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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: The Lucky Seventh
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell
+
+Release Date: June 5, 2012 [EBook #39923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
+Digital Library.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+
+
+
+By Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+  The Brother of a Hero
+  Benton’s Venture
+  Around the End
+  The Junior Trophy
+  Change Signals!
+  Finkler’s Field
+  For Yardley
+  The New Boy at Hilltop
+  Winning His “Y”
+  Double Play
+  Forward Pass!
+  The Spirit of the School
+  Four Afloat
+  Weatherby’s Inning
+  The Half-Back
+  On Your Mark
+  Four in Camp
+  Four Afoot
+  For the Honor of the School
+  Captain of the Crew
+  Behind the Line
+  The Arrival of Jimpson
+
+D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: “There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering
+wood, and——”]
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+BY
+
+RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
+
+AUTHOR OF “THE BROTHER OF A HERO,”
+“BENTON’S VENTURE,” ETC.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY NORMAN P. ROCKWELL
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+1915
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1915, by
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                 PAGE
+
+  I.     Gordon Gets a Letter                1
+  II.    Dick Consents                      10
+  III.   A Rich Man’s Son                   28
+  IV.    The Team Elects Its Captain        43
+  V.     Dick Visits the Point              57
+  VI.    Clearfield Plays the Point         67
+  VII.   The Blue Runabout                  76
+  VIII.  Across the Gully                   87
+  IX.    Mr. Merrick Breaks a Plate         95
+  X.     Gordon Bears a Message            104
+  XI.    Fudge Scents a Secret             115
+  XII.   A Reversed Decision               126
+  XIII.  Jack Is Suspended                 141
+  XIV.   A Visit To the Invalid            150
+  XV.    On the Rocks                      163
+  XVI.   Dick Scores a Defeat              177
+  XVII.  Harold Makes a Promise            193
+  XVIII. The Live Wires—and Mr. Potter     205
+  XIX.   Mr. Potter Gets Busy              218
+  XX.    Mr. Brent to the Rescue           233
+  XXI.   Mr. Brent Telephones              246
+  XXII.  Gordon Brings Good News           261
+  XXIII. Mr. Brent Throws a Ball           271
+  XXIV.  Dick Smiles                       284
+  XXV.   “The Lucky Seventh”               302
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+  “There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood——”
+                                                         _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                            FACING PAGE
+
+  “‘Good-night,’ responded Gordon and Fudge”                         54
+
+  “Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday”                        224
+
+  “The Lucky Seventh had proved itself”                             298
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GORDON GETS A LETTER
+
+
+When Gordon Merrick neared the corner of Troutman Street he slowed down
+his bicycle and finally drew in at the curb, putting out a foot to hold
+himself in the saddle while he deliberated. So deep in thought was he
+that when the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half asleep
+under the blue and white umbrella, he never knew of it until the
+sprinkler had drenched him from foot to knee. The driver awoke at that
+moment and, looking back, saw Gordon.
+
+“Hi, there!” he shouted. “Look out!”
+
+Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected bath, smiled.
+
+“Why?” he asked. “Are you coming back?”
+
+The joke was lost on the driver of the watering cart, however. He only
+scowled and settled back to slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glanced
+ruefully at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks of that no
+harm had been done, for it was a hot morning in early July and the
+feeling of the cool water against his leg had been decidedly pleasant.
+Evidently the incident had brought a decision in the weighty problem
+which had confronted him, for with no more hesitation he turned his
+wheel to the left and peddled on down E Street.
+
+“I’ll talk to Dick about it,” he said to himself. “He always knows what
+to do.”
+
+The Loverings lived in the third house from the corner, one of a
+half-dozen modest abodes occupying that side of the block. All the
+houses were painted white, although differing slightly in the simplicity
+of their architecture, and all were more or less hidden from view by
+hedges of lilac or arbor-vitæ. Old-fashioned white picket fences peeked
+out between the leaves of the hedges. The street itself was
+old-fashioned. Ten years before it had been in the desirable part of
+Clearfield, but since then the residential center had worked westward
+and the row of quiet, green-shuttered cottages was being closed in by
+such unsavory neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.
+
+Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened porch as the latter
+jumped from his bicycle and leaned it against the hitching-post in front
+of the little gate. “Hello, Gordie! Come on up.”
+
+Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which stretched the width
+of the house. There was a table beside him which held a few flowers in a
+quaint old green vase and many books and magazines. Dick’s crutches
+stood against the wall within reach, for Dick, as he put it, was “very
+fond of his crutches and never went anywhere without them.” He was
+seventeen, a tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and just the
+smallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks. As Gordon came up the
+steps Dick laid down the magazine he had been reading and smiled his
+pleasant smile.
+
+“Been in the pond?” he asked, viewing the other’s wet trousers.
+
+“Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are you, Dickums?”
+
+“Fine. Swell weather, isn’t it? You look warm, though.”
+
+“So would you if you’d been riding all over town. Say, I got a letter
+from Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think about
+it. I’ve got it here somewhere.”
+
+“Where is Bert?” asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets.
+
+“Bridgeport, Connecticut. He’s working for his uncle in some sort of a
+factory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week.
+Here it is. You’d better read it.”
+
+“You do it,” smiled Dick. “I’m lazy to-day.”
+
+“Well, he says—Where is it?—Here we are. ‘I’m sending a letter that
+came the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we’re still playing
+ball and wants a game with us. I haven’t answered it. What I was
+thinking was why don’t you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of the
+fellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot of
+fun. Those fellows at the Point aren’t anything to be scared of. You
+could get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitch
+for you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don’t you?
+Anyway, you answer the letter. I’m awfully busy here and don’t have much
+time for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all the
+time and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tell
+Harry Bryan when you see him that he’s got my glove and is to send it to
+me because I may need it. We’re getting up a team here at the factory.
+We’ve got a dandy pitcher and I guess they’ll put me at short. Don’t
+forget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.’”
+
+Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. “What do you think?” he asked.
+
+“Why, I dare say they will.”
+
+“Dare say who will? Will what?”
+
+“Put Bert at short,” chuckled Dick.
+
+“Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?”
+
+“Good, I’d say. I suppose,” with a humorous glance at his crutches, “you
+came around to see if I’d play third base for you.”
+
+“Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don’t see how you can always be so
+cheerful about—about it! I couldn’t.”
+
+“Well, it isn’t hard, Gordie, when you’ve had seventeen years’ practice.
+Of course, if I’d been able to get around like other fellows and
+then—then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chap
+might as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don’t miss much
+fun. I can’t play games or run or skate or—or do a lot of things I’d
+like to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if
+I _could_—well, play third base, say, I’d do it better than the next
+chap. The beauty of it is that you can’t prove I wouldn’t!”
+
+“I’ll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and more
+football than most of the fellows who play.”
+
+“Why not?” laughed Dick. “They don’t have as much time to study it as I
+do. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind
+about me. What’s this Billings chap say?”
+
+“Oh!” Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope and read
+its contents. “‘Mr. Bert Cable, Captain Clearfield High School Baseball
+Club, Dear Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up a ball
+team and we want games. Will you play us? We’ll play on our own field or
+on yours, just as you say. Any date after July 10th will suit us,
+Wednesdays or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average about the
+same as your team, I guess. Please let me hear from you, and if there
+are any other teams around Clearfield we could play with I wish you’d
+let me know and send managers’ addresses. Very truly, Caspar Billings,
+Captain, Rutter’s Point Baseball Association.’”
+
+“Caspar Billings,” mused Dick. “Which one of the Silk Stocking Brigade
+is he, Gordon?”
+
+Gordon smiled. “I don’t remember him particularly. He’s a sort of chum
+of Morris Brent, though.”
+
+“That all you can say for him?” asked Dick. “I suppose Morris will play
+with the Pointers?”
+
+“I guess so. He won’t be much of a help, though. He plays ball
+like—like a turtle!”
+
+“Morris says,” replied Dick with his slow smile, “that he can play a lot
+better than most of you fellows and that if Bert and Tom Haley and some
+of the others weren’t down on him he’d have made the team last spring.”
+
+“Guff! He can’t catch a ball. He’s not a bad sort, Morris, if his dad
+_does_ own the town, but he’s no Ty Cobb! Well, what do you think about
+getting up a team, Dickums?”
+
+“Why not? You’ve got plenty of fellows. Most of the school team are
+still around, aren’t they?”
+
+“All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe Browne.”
+
+“Where’s Warner?”
+
+“I don’t know. Gone away with his folks somewhere for the summer. Wish
+my folks would do that.”
+
+“Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let’s make up the team. Haley,
+pitch, and Lanny, catcher——”
+
+“I’ll play first and Harry Bryan second——”
+
+“How about Will Scott?”
+
+“Third. Then for shortstop——”
+
+“Jack Tappen?”
+
+“N-no, he’d better play in the outfield. I’ll put him down for right. I
+guess Pete Robey’s the chap for short. That leaves us Way for left field
+and I guess Fudge will do for center. He can’t hit much, but he can pull
+down a fly.”
+
+“There you are, then. What will you call the nine? You can’t be the High
+School team, I suppose.”
+
+“N-no, we’ll have to find a name. The Clearfield—what, Dickums?”
+
+“Rovers?”
+
+“Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs,” laughed Gordon. “We might call
+ourselves the Purple Sox, only it’s sort of hard to say.”
+
+“Shorten it,” suggested Dick. “Call yourselves the ‘Purps.’”
+
+“That’s worse than the Rovers! Why not just the Clearfield Ball Club?”
+
+“Why not? That’s settled. Now you want a manager——”
+
+“Got one.”
+
+“You have? Who?”
+
+“You.”
+
+“Me!”
+
+“Surest thing you know. That’s partly why I came. To tell you. You see,
+I thought you’d want to know it.”
+
+“Very thoughtful of you,” Dick laughed. “But will you tell me how I can
+manage a ball team, you idiot?”
+
+“Why can’t you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and look
+after the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make me
+captain——”
+
+“Which they will, as it’s your scheme!”
+
+“It’s really Bert’s. But if they do I’m going to tell the other fellows
+that they’ve got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I do
+and you’re going to be the real thing.”
+
+“Nonsense!”
+
+“No nonsense about it. That’s settled, then.”
+
+“But, look here, I’d have to go to places with you and—and—well, you
+know, Gordie, I can’t afford to do that very often.”
+
+“It won’t cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club.
+Besides, we’ll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess.
+Now I’m going to see Lanny and talk it over with him.”
+
+“Well, all right. I’ll be manager if you really want me to. I’d like it.
+Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think——”
+
+“You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death,” replied
+Gordon severely. “And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off
+this porch now and then. You don’t get enough sunshine and fresh air.”
+
+“Considering that I’m outdoors all day and sleep with my head through
+the window,” laughed Dick, “that’s a bit of a joke. But have your own
+way, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?”
+
+“Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I’ll come over again after dinner. Rah for
+the Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DICK CONSENTS
+
+
+“The only th-thing is,” said Fudge, “it’s going to co-cost a heap, isn’t
+it?”
+
+Fudge, whose real name was William Shaw, was fifteen years of age, had
+sandy-red hair and blue eyes and was short of stature and round of body.
+His habitual expression was one of pleased surprise, due probably to the
+fact that his blue eyes were very blue and very big. When Fudge was the
+least bit excited he stammered, but the habit was too slight to be an
+affliction, and his friends sometimes got Fudge upset in order to enjoy
+his facial contortions when the word wouldn’t come promptly. It was
+Lansing White who, several years before in grammar school, had dubbed
+him Fudge. Lanny declared that “pshaw” and “fudge” meant the same thing
+and that “fudge” was more novel. At the present moment Fudge was seated
+in the apple tree which grew by the fence where the Shaws’ side-yard and
+the Merricks’ back-yard came together. It was a favorite retreat with
+Fudge, and he had built a shelf handy to the comfortable crotch he
+affected on which to place books and papers when, as was customary, he
+was studying his lessons there. To-day, however, as school was over for
+the summer, there were no books about and the shelf bore, instead, a
+tennis racket which Fudge had been mending when Gordon found him.
+
+“I don’t see why,” replied Gordon, leaning his arms on the top of the
+fence. “We’ve all got our High School uniforms and we’ve all got bats
+and mitts and things. All we’d need to spend money on would be balls, I
+guess. Of course, when we went away every fellow would have to pay his
+transportation.”
+
+“M-meaning carfare?” queried Fudge. “Say, it’s a peach of a scheme,
+Gordie! I wish I could bat better, though. Maybe I’ll get on to it, eh?
+I guess what I need is practice.” And Fudge, swinging an imaginary bat
+at an invisible ball, almost fell off the branch. “Who’s going to be
+captain?” he asked when he had recovered his equilibrium.
+
+“We’ll vote, I suppose,” replied Gordon.
+
+Fudge grinned. “Then it’ll be me. I’m awfully popular. Have you told
+Lanny yet?”
+
+“Yes, and he says if you play center there’s got to be a rule that a hit
+to center field is good for only three bases.”
+
+Fudge snorted indignantly. “If he ever hit a ball as far as the outfield
+he’d fall in a faint! When do we start?”
+
+“I’ve got to see the other fellows yet. Harry is working in his father’s
+store and I don’t know whether his dad will let him play.”
+
+“That’s so. We need him, too. He’s a peach of a baseman. Who’s going to
+play short?”
+
+“I want Pete Robey to,” replied Gordon doubtfully. “Think he’d do,
+Fudge?”
+
+“We-ell, Pete isn’t so much of a muchness. Why don’t you p-put him in
+center and let me play short?”
+
+“Because a fellow has to have brains to play in the infield, Fudge,
+and——”
+
+Fudge tried to reach him with the racket, failed and, composing his
+features to an expression of grave interest, asked: “Won’t it be awfully
+hard to find anyone to play first?”
+
+Gordon smiled. “Never you mind about first. Get your wheel and let’s go
+around and see some of the fellows. We can catch Harry at the store if
+we hurry. I want to see Tom, too. If he won’t go into it and pitch for
+us we might as well give it up.”
+
+“Oh, Tom’ll pitch all right,” answered Fudge, dropping from the tree,
+racket in hand. “He’d rather pitch a baseball than eat. I’ll meet you
+out front in two minutes.”
+
+He wormed his way through the currant bushes to the garden path and
+disappeared toward the house, while Gordon, dodging the clothes lines
+strung near the rear fence, went along the brick walk and gained the
+side porch by the simple expedient of vaulting the railing. The Merrick
+house was new—most of the residences on that end of Troutman Street
+were—and was mildly pretentious. Mr. Merrick was a lawyer and
+comfortably well-to-do. The family had lived in Clearfield for six
+generations and had given its name to one of the principal streets in
+the downtown business part of the city. I refer to Clearfield as a city,
+and it really was, but it was not a very large city. The latest census
+credited it with something over 17,000 inhabitants. Like many New
+England cities of its kind, it owed its growth and prosperity to
+factories of various sorts. Mill River, which entered the bay two miles
+distant, flowed along the edge of the town and provided water-power for
+a number of large manufacturing plants, knitting mills, a sewing machine
+factory, a silverware factory and several others.
+
+The knitting mills were largely owned by Mr. Brent, the Honorable
+Jonathan Brent, as the Clearfield _Reporter_ usually referred to him,
+and while Gordon had spoken of Mr. Brent “owning the town,” he had, of
+course, exaggerated, but still had not been very far wide of the mark.
+Mr. Brent was Clearfield’s richest and its leading citizen. Besides the
+knitting mills he controlled two banks and the street railway and
+lighting service and had a finger—usually two or three fingers—in many
+other enterprises. The Brent residence, standing imposingly in a whole
+block of land, was visible, further along Troutman Street, from the
+Merricks’ porch. In this, the more recently developed part of the town,
+the wide streets were lined with maples as yet too young to afford much
+shade, but a giant elm tree, which had been old long before Clearfield
+even thought of growing away from the river, stood just inside the
+Merricks’ front gate and effectively screened the house from the hot
+sunlight.
+
+Gordon contented himself with putting his head inside the screen door
+and announcing in a loud voice: “Mother, I’m going downtown. Is there
+anything you want?” Mrs. Merrick’s voice floated down from upstairs in
+reply: “No, dear; but please try to be on time for dinner. You know your
+father dislikes——”
+
+But Gordon didn’t hear the rest of it. He didn’t need to. He knew what
+his father disliked. His father disliked having him late for his meals,
+disliked his going out in the evenings, disliked—oh, so many things!
+Gordon sighed as he mounted his wheel. Life was really extremely
+difficult at times!
+
+He was a well-built, athletic youth of fifteen years, with a pleasant,
+clean-cut face, dark brown eyes and hair and a well-tanned skin. He
+looked very much alive and rather enthusiastic, just the sort of a boy,
+in short, to undertake and carry through successfully such an enterprise
+as the formation of the Clearfield Baseball Club.
+
+Fudge was waiting for him around the corner, and they set off together
+in search of Tom Haley. Tom lived in what folks called the East End,
+which was that section of the town near the railroad largely inhabited
+by workers in the mills and factories. Tom’s father was a foreman in the
+sewing-machine works, and the family occupied a tiny story-and-a-half
+cottage so close to the railroad tracks that it shook whenever the
+trains passed. Fortunately they found Tom at home, very busily engaged
+repairing the front steps, surrounded by carpenter’s tools and three
+junior members of the Haley family. He rescued the chisel from Tille,
+aged four, deprived the baby of a handful of nails, told George, aged
+six, to stop sawing the chair leg, and greeted his visitors.
+
+Tom was sixteen, big, broad-shouldered and raw-boned, with an angular
+face and high cheek-bones liberally speckled with freckles. At present
+he was minus coat and vest and wore a pair of blue overalls. “You kids
+get in the house now,” he instructed the suddenly silent trio of
+youngsters, “and tell your mother to keep you in there, too. You’ve
+bothered me enough. Shoo, the whole lot of you!”
+
+They went, with many backward glances, and Tom cleared a space on the
+edge of the unrailed porch for Gordon and Fudge. “Say, it’s some warm,
+isn’t it? What you fellows up to to-day? Going to the pond?”
+
+“No, we’re calling on you,” replied Fudge.
+
+“Much obliged. What’s the game?”
+
+“Baseball,” said Gordon. “We’re getting up a team to play the Rutter’s
+Point fellows and we want you to join, Tom.”
+
+“I don’t mind, if there isn’t much practice. There’s a lot to be done
+around the house here this summer. We’re going to shingle next week, and
+after that we’ll paint. Who’s on the team?”
+
+Gordon explained all about it, read Bert Cable’s letter and Caspar
+Billings’ and told Tom the line-up of the nine as he had planned it.
+
+“Sounds all right,” said Tom. “When are you going to start?”
+
+“Right away. If you’ll pitch for us we’ll be all right. I’ll answer
+Billings’ letter and tell him we’ll meet him a week from Wednesday.
+That’ll give us a whole week for practicing.”
+
+“All right, I’m with you, only don’t expect me to practice much, Gordon.
+I’m pretty busy. I’ll come out a couple of times, though; say—let me
+see—say Friday and Monday. Going to use the school field?”
+
+“Yes. I don’t suppose anyone will object?”
+
+“Don’t see why they should. You’d better see Mr. Grayson, though.”
+
+“I will. No, that will be up to Dick. He’s going to be manager.”
+
+“Dick Lovering?” asked Tom, in surprise. “Well, I don’t see why not. He
+can get around all right. Have you asked him?”
+
+“Yes, and he said he would. The only thing is, Tom, we’ll have to pay
+his expenses if we go away from home very far. I told him we would. It
+wouldn’t be much if we shared it. You see, Dick doesn’t have much money.
+I guess they’re pretty hard-up. His father only left them that house
+they’re in and a little insurance money, and of course Dick can’t do
+much to earn any.”
+
+“He told me the other day,” said Fudge, “that he was trying to get work
+tutoring this summer over at the Point. He could do that finely if he
+could find anyone to toot. Hope he does. Dick’s a peach.”
+
+“Then we’ll have first practice Wednesday, the rest of us, and we’ll
+look for you Friday, Tom. I’ve got to catch Harry before he goes home.
+Maybe his father won’t let him off. If he won’t we’ll be in a bad way
+for a second baseman.”
+
+“If you hold practice late—say, half-past four—I guess Harry could get
+there,” said Tom. “And we wouldn’t play more than twice a week, I
+suppose. Who else are you going after besides the Pointers?”
+
+“I don’t know. Maybe Lesterville. They’ve got a pretty good club over
+there. I guess we can find games enough, Tom.”
+
+“I suppose the Springdale team has disbanded,” said Tom. “I’d like to
+get another whack at those fellows!”
+
+“So would I,” Gordon agreed. “We never should have lost that last game,
+Tom. We all played like idiots, though. Six errors is going some!”
+
+“It was an off-day with me, all right,” grumbled Tom. “I couldn’t put
+’em over the plate to save my life in the last four innings.”
+
+“We’ll lick them at football this fall,” asserted Fudge.
+
+“Bound to,” agreed Tom, with a sly wink at Gordon. “Fudge is going to
+play, you know.”
+
+“You bet I am!” exclaimed Fudge. “I’m going to p-p-play end. I’m
+g-g-going——”
+
+“So am I,” laughed Gordon. “Right now. Come along, Fudge, and we’ll hunt
+up Harry. I’m glad you’ll come in with us, Tom. By the way, I suppose we
+ought to have a sort of meeting to organize pretty soon. How would it do
+if you all came to my house to-morrow evening? We’ll have to choose a
+captain and—and talk things over.”
+
+“Oh, you’ll be captain,” said Tom. “It’s your scheme. Besides, who else
+is there?”
+
+“You, or Harry, or Will Scott, or——”
+
+“Shucks, they’re not made for it. It’ll be either you or Lansing, I
+guess. Anyway, I’ll be over to-morrow, if you say so, about eight. So
+long. I’ve got to get these boards down before dinner.”
+
+They found Harry Bryan in his father’s grocery. He, too, was very busy,
+but he stopped putting up orders long enough to hear Gordon’s tale, and
+was instantly enthusiastic.
+
+“I’ll have to ask my dad, though,” he said doubtfully. “He’s keeping me
+pretty close to business,” he added importantly.
+
+“What do you do, Harry?” asked Fudge. “Put the sand in the sugar?”
+
+Harry treated the insult with silent contempt. “I’ll ask him to-night,
+though,” he continued, “and let you know.”
+
+“Telephone me, will you? We’ll have practice late in the afternoon,
+Harry. You wouldn’t have to get away until after four.”
+
+“I know. I guess he will let me. He ought to.” Harry observed the yellow
+slips in his hand somberly. “I’ve been working pretty hard, I tell you.”
+
+“I should think,” suggested the irrepressible Fudge, “that if you worked
+late to-night you could sand enough sugar to last the week out!”
+
+“Say, they’re not going to let you play, are they, Fudge?”
+
+“How could they do without me?”
+
+“It’ll be a peach of a nine!” jeered Harry. He was only a year older
+than Fudge, but pretended to regard that youth with amused toleration,
+and so caused Fudge deep annoyance at times.
+
+“Well, we’ve got eight good ones,” responded Fudge sweetly. “If we could
+only find a fellow to play second base, we’d be all right.”
+
+“It’s a wonder they don’t put you there.”
+
+“Oh, I was offered the position, bu-but I didn’t want it. I prefer the
+outfield. There’s more re-re-responsibility there.”
+
+“You’re a wonder!” said Harry. “What would you do if a ball came your
+way? Hold your mouth open and try to swallow it?”
+
+“You wa-wait and see! If I co-co-couldn’t catch a b-b-ball better
+th-th-than you——”
+
+“Calm yourself, Fudge! You’re off your trolley again! I’ll be around
+to-morrow night, Gordon. Now I’ll have to get busy. Watch Fudge as he
+goes out, will you? Last time he was in he got away with three or four
+pounds of prunes.”
+
+“I took three of the old th-th-th-things,” said Fudge bitterly, “and
+they n-n-nearly killed me!”
+
+They left Harry surrounded by baskets, frowning over the order slips in
+his hand, and made their way back to the sidewalk and their wheels. As
+it was almost noon, Gordon decided not to risk his father’s displeasure
+by seeing any more of the fellows before dinner, and he and Fudge
+pedaled home, Fudge still sputtering about those prunes.
+
+At a little after four that afternoon Gordon was back at Dick’s to
+report success. All the members of the Clearfield Ball Club had agreed
+to play and to attend the organization meeting the next evening—all,
+that is, save Harry Bryan, who was to telephone later.
+
+“Now, Dickums, if you’ll write to Billings and tell him——”
+
+“If _I’ll_ write!”
+
+Gordon laughed. “Of course; you’re the manager, aren’t you?”
+
+“Humph! So I have to attend to the correspondence too, do I? It seems to
+me that you ought to write that letter. Bert sent it to you, and you’re
+captain, and——”
+
+“Well, that’s what I thought,” responded Gordon cheerfully, “until I got
+to thinking it over. Then I remembered that you were manager, and, of
+course, managers always attend to arranging contests; and there you are.
+Just tell him we’ll play his team on Wednesday the sixteenth, Dickums,
+at the Point.”
+
+“All right. I might call on him and tell him about it, though, for I’m
+going over to the Point in the morning.”
+
+“You are? What for?”
+
+“To get a job, I hope. You know I got them to put up a notice in the
+hotel over there for me: ‘tutoring in French, Mathematics, and English;
+references; terms on request.’ This afternoon a Mrs. Townsend called me
+up by telephone, and she wants me to come over in the morning and see
+about coaching her son. He’s going to Rifle Point School in the Fall and
+is weak on English and Math. He’s thirteen, she says. She seemed to
+think the price was all right, but she wants me to have a look at the
+youngster first. Sounded as though she was afraid I wouldn’t like him.
+I’d coach a Bengal tiger if I got paid for it. I need the money,
+Gordie.”
+
+“That’s fine! Then why not see Billings instead of writing to him? You
+could arrange the whole thing in five minutes. Do you know where he
+lives?”
+
+“No, but they can tell me at the hotel, I guess. By the way, why do you
+want to play over there? Why not have them come over here?”
+
+“Because I saw Mr. Grayson awhile ago and asked him if it would be all
+right if we used the school field, and he said it would as far as he was
+concerned, but that he’d just got notice from Mr. Brent that they are
+going to cut the field up pretty soon for building lots. I suppose we
+could use it until they begin to build on it, but I haven’t seen Mr.
+Brent yet, and I thought it would be safer to say we’d play them at the
+Point. They’ll probably want another game, and then, if it’s all right
+about the field, we could play them here.”
+
+“But that will leave us without an athletic field!” exclaimed Dick, in
+dismay. “I thought we had a lease or something on it.”
+
+“Mr. Grayson says not. Says Mr. Brent just agreed to let us use it as
+long as it wasn’t needed for anything else. Now he wants it put in the
+market for house lots. Rather tough, isn’t it? I guess we can find
+another field somewhere, though.”
+
+“Not in town,” said Dick. “We’ll probably have to go across the river
+somewhere. There are plenty of fields over there, but they’re as rough
+as the dickens. What did Mr. Grayson say about that?”
+
+“Nothing much. He seemed to think it was up to the Athletic Committee.”
+
+“Perhaps it is, but he’s principal, and——”
+
+“Shucks, he wouldn’t care a lot if we didn’t have a field, I guess!”
+
+“I don’t think that, Gordie. Grayson’s not very keen about our
+athletics, I know, but he’s been pretty decent, just the same. We’ll
+have to get busy right away and find a new place. The football fellows
+will want to start practice in something like two months. Does Way know
+about it?”
+
+“I don’t know. I saw Grayson after I left Way. I don’t believe he does,
+for he didn’t say anything. He will have to get the committee together
+and have a meeting, I guess. Who’s on it now?”
+
+“Aren’t you?”
+
+“No, not this year. There’s Way, and Harry, and Bert——”
+
+“Well, Bert can’t come. I think Will Scott is on it, isn’t he?”
+
+“Maybe; he probably is if Way belongs. Well, it’s up to Way. I thought
+I’d ask Mr. Brent if we could keep on using the field for a while; or
+have Morris ask him. I dare say he’d be more likely to say yes if Morris
+asks him. Come to think of it, Dickums, as you’re manager——”
+
+“No, you don’t! I wouldn’t beard old man Brent in his den for a hundred
+dollars! If I’ve got to do that, I’ll resign!”
+
+“All right, then, I’ll do it!” laughed Gordon. “Or I’ll see Morris about
+it. I don’t see why he needs to cut up that field, though. Seems to me
+there are enough houses in this town already.”
+
+“Wants the money, probably. Bet you Jonathan Brent would cut up the
+Garden of Eden for house lots if he had it!”
+
+“You don’t seem to care a whole lot for Mr. Brent, Dickums.”
+
+“I don’t,” responded Dick emphatically. “We wouldn’t be like we are
+now—as poor as church mice—if father hadn’t got mixed up with Mr.
+Brent in one of his real-estate schemes. I’m not saying that Mr. Brent
+was dishonest, Gordie, but he was too sharp for dad, and dad got let in
+for a pile of money.”
+
+“I didn’t know that,” said Gordon. “You never told me, did you?”
+
+“No. It was a long time ago, when I was just a kid. Dad moved here from
+Norwalk when I was three years old. He had quite a little
+money—thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars it was—and Mr. Brent got
+him to invest it in that South-west Division, as they called it. They
+got hold of a pile of land down the river toward the Point. You know;
+where the picnic grove is. They were going to sell it for factory sites
+and there was a railway coming through to connect with the Shore Line,
+and everything was fine—on paper. But the bottom fell out of the
+scheme; the factories didn’t come, and the railroad decided not to
+build; and the mortgages were foreclosed; and after it was all over Mr.
+Brent had the whole thing and dad had nothing! And it was all legal and
+above-board, too! And that’s why I’ve never had much use for Jonathan
+Brent; nor Morris, either, although Morris has never done anything to
+me.”
+
+“You and he seem to be pretty good friends,” said Gordon.
+
+“I know. He—— Well, he seems to like me pretty well, and you can’t be
+anything but decent to a fellow in that case, can you? I suppose if
+Jonathan Brent wasn’t his father I’d like him well enough. Well, I’ll
+stop in and see this Billings chap to-morrow. It’s less trouble than
+writing a letter, I guess. Wednesday the sixteenth, on their own
+grounds, at—what time?”
+
+“Three o’clock, I suppose,” answered Gordon. “That will give us plenty
+of time to get over on the two-o’clock car and warm up a bit before the
+game. You might tell him about our field, and say that if they want a
+return game we’ll play it over here if we can get the use of the field.
+By the way, that grandstand at the field belongs to the school. We’ll
+have to move that if we get out. I wish Mr. Brent would be satisfied
+with all the money he’s got and not go and take our field away from us.”
+
+“So do I. What we want to do, though, is to watch out and be sure he
+doesn’t swipe the grandstand too!”
+
+“Well, you _are_ rabid!” laughed Gordon. “Still, I don’t know that I
+blame you. I never knew that about your father, Dickums.”
+
+“Well, don’t repeat it, please. It’s all done with now, and there’s no
+use talking about it. I don’t—very often. Only sometimes—— Well, I
+get sort of hot under the collar when I think of all the money Jonathan
+Brent has and how awfully hard we have to scrabble to get along.
+Good-bye, Mr. Captain.”
+
+“Good-bye, Mr. Manager. I’m not captain, though.”
+
+“You will be,” laughed Dick. “You always are, you know!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A RICH MAN’S SON
+
+
+Gordon had doubts of finding Morris Brent at home when, shortly after
+nine o’clock the next morning, he walked up the neat artificial-stone
+path to the front door of Brentwood. But the maid who responded to his
+ring assured him that Master Morris was in, and led the way to the
+gray-and-gold reception room. He decided to take no chances with the
+spindle-legged, silk-brocaded chairs, and took refuge in front of the
+mantel, from which place he viewed the gray satin wall panels and dainty
+luxuries of the apartment with surprise. He didn’t have to wait long,
+however, for he had only just reached the conclusion that the room was
+pretty but uncomfortable when footsteps sounded quickly in the hall and
+a boy a year older than he appeared in the doorway.
+
+“Hello, Gordon! How are you? Say, what did they put you in here for?
+This room gives me the creeps, doesn’t it you? Come on out on the
+piazza.”
+
+Gordon followed his host across the hall, through a warm-toned,
+luxurious but decidedly comfortable library and out of a French door
+onto a wide porch that was screened and curtained. There were many
+bright rugs and gayly cushioned easy-chairs here; and tables with
+blossoming plants and books and magazines on them. From the porch one
+looked across a carefully kept lawn to where a symmetrically clipped
+hedge bordered Louise Street. Mr. Brent owned not only the block on
+which his estate was located, but some eight or nine adjoining blocks
+besides, his property running from his back line across Troutman,
+Lafayette, Main, and Common Streets to the river, including, two blocks
+north, the plot of land which for many years the High School had used as
+an athletic field. Mr. Brent had laid out the section himself and had
+named the two cross streets after his son and daughter, Morris and
+Louise.
+
+Morris was a good-looking youth, with a self-confident air and a
+somewhat dissatisfied expression. He was tall, carried himself well,
+dressed rather more expensively than his companions in high school, and
+was never quite able to forget or allow others to forget that he was
+Jonathan Brent’s son and heir. But, in spite of that, he was not
+unpopular, and if there was any snobbishness about him it was
+unconscious. In fact, there were one or two of his acquaintances in
+Clearfield to whom he went out of his way to ingratiate himself. Gordon
+was one and Dick was another. But Gordon had never cared to respond more
+than half-heartedly to Morris’ advances, while Dick’s attitude we
+already know.
+
+Morris pulled forward the most comfortable chair for his guest, repeated
+that he was glad to see him, and for several minutes gave Gordon no
+chance to state his errand. When he did, however, Morris was as much
+surprised as Dick had been.
+
+“Dad hasn’t mentioned it to me,” he said, with a frown. “That’s too bad,
+isn’t it? I don’t see why he needs to cut up that land just now. What’ll
+we do, Gordon, for a place to play?”
+
+“Dick said he supposed we’d have to go across the river. That would make
+it pretty far from school, though. But I don’t know of any place in
+town, do you?”
+
+Morris shook his head, and Gordon went on:
+
+“What I wanted to see you about was to ask if you thought your father
+would have any objection to our using the field until they began to
+build on it. I don’t think they’ve done anything there yet. I thought
+maybe you wouldn’t mind asking your father, Morris.”
+
+Morris hesitated a moment. “I’ll ask him,” he said, at last, “but he and
+I—well, we aren’t on very good terms just now. Honestly, I think it
+would be better if you asked him yourself, Gordon. I’m afraid he’d say
+no to me just to—to be nasty. You see, we had a sort of row about an
+automobile. He kind of promised last Christmas that he’d get me a
+runabout this Spring, and when I asked about it he put me off; and so
+I”—Morris grinned—“I went ahead and got Stacey to order one for me. It
+came yesterday, and I told dad and he got as mad as a hatter about it.
+Says I can’t have it now. I’m going to, though. I’ve got some money in
+the bank, and Stacey says he’ll wait for the rest of it. It’s only six
+hundred dollars, anyway.”
+
+“Too bad!” murmured Gordon, not very enthusiastically. “Maybe he will
+change his mind, though.”
+
+“Not he! He isn’t made that way. What are you going to do at the field?
+Play ball?”
+
+Gordon told about the letter from Caspar Billings and the formation of
+the ball club. “I suppose,” he ended, “you’ll play with the Point
+fellows?”
+
+Morris shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so. I haven’t heard anything
+about it yet. Caspar’s a friend of mine, though. We don’t move out to
+the Point until the seventeenth this summer. Dad’s full of business and
+as grouchy as the dickens. Sis and I have been trying to get mother to
+spunk up and insist on moving right away, but she won’t. Who’s on your
+team, Gordon?”
+
+Gordon told him. Morris criticised several of his selections and was
+infinitely amused at the idea of Fudge Shaw playing. Gordon had an
+uneasy feeling that Morris perhaps resented not being asked to join. But
+if Morris held any resentment, he didn’t show it.
+
+“We ought to have some good games,” he said finally and approvingly. “I
+dare say Caspar will want me to play on his team. You know him, don’t
+you?”
+
+Gordon was doubtful. “I think I remember him,” he said, “but I’m not
+sure. What does he look like?”
+
+“Oh, rather a good-looking chap—big, dark hair, plays tennis a lot and
+is pretty good at it. He lives in a cottage near the hotel, the second
+in the row at the left. He’s a dandy chap, Billings. I don’t see,
+though, where he’s going to get enough fellows at the Point to make up a
+nine, unless there are more there this year than usual. Perhaps he’s got
+some fellows staying with him. He goes to St. George’s, you know, and
+last year he brought a couple of friends home with him for a while.”
+
+“Dick went over to the Point this morning to see about coaching a boy
+who is going to Rifle Point in the Fall,” said Gordon. “He’s going to
+look up Billings and tell him we’ll play him a week from Saturday.”
+
+“Could Dick do that? Coach, I mean.”
+
+“I guess so. You know he’s about the smartest fellow in his class at
+school. He wants to earn some money, and there aren’t many things he can
+do. I hope he gets the job.”
+
+“Yes. I like Dick. He’s terribly white, isn’t he? Gee, if I had a bum
+hip like his and had to live on crutches, I’d—I’d——” But words failed
+him. He shook his head. “He’s so awfully cheerful. Who is the kid he’s
+going to coach?”
+
+“I’ve forgotten the name. He told me. Something like Prentiss, I think.”
+
+Morris shook his head again. “Don’t know them. They must be new. When I
+get over there, Gordon, I’ll see if I can’t drum up some trade for Dick.
+I know about everyone there.” He paused, and then added morosely, with a
+wry smile: “It might be a mighty good scheme if I had him coach me a
+bit. I’ve got to take my college exams next year, and I know blamed well
+I won’t pass them.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I’ve got another
+year yet. Do you have to go? Stay and play a couple of sets of tennis
+with me. You’ve never tried our court, have you?”
+
+“I’d like to, but I want to get this business settled. I guess I’d
+better go and see your father about the field. I’d like to play, though,
+some time,” he added, as he saw Morris’ face fall. “It looks like a
+bully court.”
+
+“It is. It’s a dandy. Fast as lightning. I haven’t played much myself
+this year, and I’m all out of trim. Sis and I had a couple of sets the
+other day, and she pretty nearly licked me.”
+
+“I hope your sister is well,” murmured Gordon. “And Mrs. Brent.”
+
+“Yes, thanks. Sis ought to be around somewhere. Wait till I see.”
+
+He got up and passed into the library, and Gordon heard him calling his
+sister at the stairway. He came back in a moment. “She’s coming down,”
+he announced. “Don’t hurry off. Dad will be in his office all the
+morning, I guess. I hope you don’t mind my not wanting to ask him,
+Gordon. I would in a minute, only, as I say, we aren’t very chummy just
+now.”
+
+At that moment Louise Brent came through the doorway, and Gordon, who
+had reseated himself after his first start to leave, arose again. She
+was tall, like her brother, but, unlike him, was light in coloring, with
+brown hair that just escaped being yellow and a very fair skin and blue
+eyes. She was not a beauty, but she was pretty in spite of irregular
+features, with a lot of animation and a smile that won friends at once.
+She was fifteen; but she looked older, Gordon thought as he took the
+hand she extended.
+
+“I haven’t seen you for a long time, Gordon,” she said, as she seated
+herself on the edge of Morris’ chair. “Not since the school dance in
+January. And then you didn’t ask me for a single dance.”
+
+Gordon smiled a trifle embarrassedly. “I—I don’t dance very well,” he
+said. “I thought it would be kinder to spare you.”
+
+“You didn’t spare Grace Levering,” she laughed.
+
+“Well, Grace——”
+
+“Is awfully nice. I know.”
+
+“I didn’t mean that! I meant that—she’s only thirteen—and——”
+
+“Oh, I’m too old?” Louise opened her eyes very wide. “But I’m only
+fifteen, Gordon. How old are you? Or isn’t it polite to ask?”
+
+“Fifteen, too,” he laughed. “I guess the reason I danced with Grace so
+much was because I thought she wasn’t old enough to be fussy about the
+way I did it. Kind of tough on her, though, wasn’t it?”
+
+“Kind of tough on the rest of us, you mean,” responded Louise. “You’ll
+have to make it up this summer by coming to some of our parties at the
+Point. Will you?”
+
+“Why—yes, if you want me to. But, really and truly, I’m a fierce
+dancer, Louise.”
+
+“Is he?” She turned to her brother. Morris shook his head.
+
+“Search me. I know he can bat a ball like sixty, though. I’ve been
+trying to get him to stay and play some tennis, but he won’t. You ask
+him, sis.”
+
+“Won’t you?” she begged. “The court’s just crying to be played on. If
+you will, I’ll bring you out the biggest, coldest pitcher of lemonade,
+Gordon, you ever saw!”
+
+“Thanks, but—some other time——”
+
+“That means never!” she sighed. “I don’t think you’re as nice as you
+used to be. Is he, Morris?”
+
+“He’s so full of business these days. Say, sis, father’s going to cut up
+the athletic field for building lots. What do you think of that?”
+
+“What for?” she demanded.
+
+“Search me. It leaves the school in a hole, all right.”
+
+“How horribly mean!” said Louise. “It was such a nice field, too! I
+don’t think he ought to do it, Morris, and I guess I’ll tell him so.”
+
+“Go ahead!” laughed her brother. “It’ll make a lot of difference—I
+don’t think! Gordon came around to get me to ask dad to let the fellows
+use the field until he began to cut it up, but I told him that he’d
+better do the asking himself. If I asked he might give orders to build a
+dozen houses on it to-morrow!”
+
+“I know.” Louise nodded. “I wish you’d give up the idea of that
+automobile, Morris. Mother doesn’t want you to have it, either.”
+
+“Just because dad made such a fuss,” he grumbled. “She was all right
+before that. I’m going to have it, just the same.”
+
+“I wish you wouldn’t,” she murmured. “Do you think he ought to drive an
+auto, Gordon? Don’t you think it’s too dangerous?”
+
+“I don’t know,” answered Gordon. “I’ve never had much experience with
+automobiles. I suppose, though, that if one is careful——”
+
+“Morris won’t be,” mourned Louise. “He’ll have an accident, kill
+himself, break his arm or something.”
+
+“Oh, piffle, sis! I can run an automobile as well as any chap. I’ve done
+it. When I get the car you’ll be tickled to death, and you’ll want to be
+riding in it every minute.”
+
+Louise shook her head energetically. “No, I shan’t, Morris. I’d be
+scared to death. And I think it would be much better for you to wait
+another year or two. Papa won’t like it a bit if you take your money out
+of the bank and spend it on an automobile.”
+
+“It’s my money, and I have a right to do as I please with it,” responded
+her brother. “Besides, if he’d kept his word——”
+
+“Oh, Morris, you shouldn’t say things like that! Papa never actually
+told you you could have it.”
+
+“Well, he as much as told me,” muttered Morris. “Anyway, I’m going to
+have it. Stacey would think I was a pretty funny sort if I refused to
+take it after he’d got it for me.”
+
+“Maybe he could sell it to someone else,” suggested Gordon. “’Most
+everyone is buying the things nowadays. Well, I’ll be going, I guess.
+Good-bye. Good-bye, Louise. I’ll come over some time and have that
+tennis, Morris, if you’ll let me know.”
+
+“Come whenever you can, will you? I’m at home most of the time; or I
+shall be until I get my car.” And Morris grinned exasperatingly at his
+sister.
+
+“Don’t forget that you’re to come to the Point some time and dance every
+dance with me,” Louise reminded, as she and Morris accompanied Gordon to
+the door. “That’s the only apology I’ll accept.”
+
+“You’ll wish you hadn’t invited me after the first dance,” replied the
+visitor grimly. “But I’ll come if you want me to some time. Good-bye.”
+
+On his wheel once more, and spinning down the shadow-dappled street, he
+thought, not without a little natural envy, how fine it must be to have
+as much money as the Brents. Morris had spoken of buying a
+six-hundred-dollar automobile in much the same way as Gordon might have
+announced his intention of purchasing a new suit of clothes! And yet, on
+reflection, Morris didn’t seem really happy and contented, and never
+had. He always appeared to have a quarrel with someone or something.
+Sometimes it was the teachers at High School, who were imposing on him;
+once it had been the baseball coach, Mr. Farrel, who, according to
+Morris, was keeping him off the team for spite, and now it was with his
+father. It would seem, then, that the possession of much wealth didn’t
+always bring contentment. There was Dick Levering, who was not only poor
+but a cripple as well, and who was absolutely the most cheerful and
+contented fellow of all Gordon’s acquaintances. It was a bit puzzling,
+Gordon thought, as he whirled into E Street and headed toward the
+business section of town.
+
+Mr. Jonathan Brent’s office was in the Clearfield Trust Company’s
+Building, opposite the common. Gordon left his wheel against the curb
+and mounted the flight of marble stairs. A clerk took his name
+doubtfully and indicated a chair for him to sit in while he waited Mr.
+Brent’s pleasure. As it happened, although the mill president was a very
+busy man, Gordon didn’t have to wait long. Almost at once a buzzer
+sounded, the clerk disappeared, returned, and conducted Gordon through a
+door whose ground-glass pane was marked “Private.”
+
+Mr. Brent’s office looked out across E Street into the elm-shaded
+greenery of the common. An electric fan made a soft and pleasant
+whirring from the top of the big desk which, until Gordon had crossed
+the room, hid Mr. Brent from view. A chair was set at the end of the
+desk and into this, not very confidently, Gordon lowered himself while
+Mr. Brent, without looking up, ran his eye over a letter in his hand.
+
+Jonathan Brent was a small man, small and narrow, with a lean and
+wrinkled face, shrewd but not unkindly, and a pair of gimlet-like,
+blue-gray eyes. His face was clean-shaven and the grizzled brown hair
+had retreated until the top of his head was as bald and shining as the
+white-enameled newel-post at the foot of the Merricks’ stairway. His
+mouth was thin and set in a firm, straight line, a line that never
+altered as, presently, he laid down the paper in his hand and raised his
+gaze to Gordon’s.
+
+“Well, what do you want, my boy?” he asked, in a quick but not
+unpleasant voice.
+
+“I came to see you about the athletic field, Mr. Brent,” responded
+Gordon. “I heard yesterday that you intend to cut it up for building
+lots, sir.”
+
+“Quite right. What of it?”
+
+“Well, sir, you see we’ve been using it for baseball, and some of us are
+getting up a nine to play this summer, and I wondered if you’d let us
+use it until you got ready to—to build on it.”
+
+“Oh! I see. What’s your name? Herrick?”
+
+“Merrick, sir; Gordon Merrick.”
+
+“Ellis Merrick’s boy?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“I know your father. Are you in the High School?”
+
+“Yes, sir.”
+
+“Know my boy?”
+
+“Yes, sir. I—I went to see him this morning. I thought maybe he would
+ask you for me, but—he——”
+
+Gordon floundered, and a tiny smile moved the corners of Mr. Brent’s
+straight lips.
+
+“He didn’t care to, eh? Well, Merrick, you’re welcome to use the field
+as long as you don’t interfere with the engineers or workmen. I believe
+they’re going to survey there for the street in a week or so.”
+
+“Thank you, Mr. Brent.”
+
+“All right. I dare say you boys are going to miss that playground.”
+
+“Yes, sir, we are. It—it’s been a fine place for us.”
+
+“Yes. Sorry I can’t let you have the use of it longer, but I need the
+ground. I suppose you can find another field without much trouble.”
+
+“I think so,” agreed Gordon doubtfully.
+
+“You and Morris friends?”
+
+“Yes, sir. That is, we—we know each other pretty well.”
+
+“Only pretty well, eh? What’s the matter? Don’t you like him?”
+
+“Why, yes, sir, but—but we don’t see each other much.”
+
+“Doesn’t he like you?”
+
+“I think so. He seems to.”
+
+“Did he say anything to you about an automobile, Merrick?”
+
+“Yes, sir, he mentioned it.” Gordon began to wish himself away.
+
+“Ever drive one of the things?”
+
+“No, sir.”
+
+“Like to?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I guess so. I think it would be fun to—to have one.”
+
+“Why doesn’t your father get you one?”
+
+“I don’t think he could afford it, and, besides——”
+
+“Yes? Besides?”
+
+“I guess he wouldn’t think I was—was old enough to run it.”
+
+“How old are you?”
+
+“Fifteen, sir.”
+
+“Morris is sixteen. Think your father would let you have one if you were
+a year older and he could afford it?”
+
+Gordon shook his head. “I don’t believe so, Mr. Brent.”
+
+“I don’t, either. Well, help yourself to the field, Merrick. Glad to
+have met you. Good day.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE TEAM ELECTS ITS CAPTAIN
+
+
+There was a full attendance at the organization meeting which assembled
+in the Merricks’ front parlor that evening. Besides Gordon himself, Dick
+Lovering, Fudge Shaw, Harry Bryan, who had won his father’s consent, and
+Tom Haley, all of whom we have met, there was Lansing White, otherwise
+known as “Lanny,” Jack Tappen, Pete Robey, Will Scott, and Curtis
+Wayland. Curtis and Will were inseparable companions. Damon and Pythias
+would have been excellent, if hackneyed, nicknames for the pair. Dick
+had once remarked in his quiet way, when the two chums had appeared arm
+in arm on the ball field: “Where there’s a Will there’s a Way.”
+Thereafter Curtis was called Way, and Dick’s pun was handed over to an
+appreciative public in the “Caught-in-the-Corridor” column of _The
+Purple_, the High School monthly. Way and Will were both of an age,
+which was sixteen, both of the same height to a fraction of an inch,
+and, perhaps by reason of having been together ever since they were in
+kindergarten, were so much alike in general appearance, manners, and
+speech that they were always mistaken for brothers and not infrequently
+for twins. Way was a little heavier in build than Will, and had dark
+brown hair, whereas Will’s was light. For the rest they were much the
+same, with brown eyes, short noses, and round, freckled faces. Good,
+healthy, jolly, normal boys both.
+
+Pete Robey was fifteen, a lank, dark-eyed fellow, rather diffident and
+quiet. Jack Tappen was only fourteen, but he was big for his years. He
+was not at all diffident. In fact, Jack had a pretty good opinion of
+himself. He was a clever ball player, and, for that matter, did many
+things about as well as the older fellows with whom he associated.
+
+Lansing White, or Lanny, as he was always called, was fifteen. Every one
+who knew him would have assured you earnestly that Lansing White was
+destined for great things. Perhaps they were right. At all events, he
+had the fine faculty of making friends on the instant and holding them.
+There wasn’t a kinder-hearted fellow in school, nor one more thoughtful
+of others. If a ballot had been taken for the most popular student,
+Lanny would have won, hands-down, over many a fellow far more prominent
+in school affairs. He caught for the school nine, played a fine game at
+left halfback on the football team, and regularly won his five points in
+each of the sprints at the track meetings with Springdale High School.
+
+In appearance he was rather striking by reason of his hair, which was as
+near the color of ripe flax as hair ever gets, and his eyes which were
+so dark a brown that they looked black. The contrast between light hair
+and dark eyes was rather startling. He was always a little too lean, his
+parents thought, but his leanness was quite healthy and was due,
+probably, to the fact that he was always in training for something.
+
+The nine members of the Clearfield Ball Club sat around the parlor,
+occupying every available chair and couch, and discussed the project
+exhaustively and with enthusiasm. They all agreed that it was the
+bounden duty of someone to humble the pride of those Rutter’s Point
+chaps, to whom they had long been in the habit of referring as the Silk
+Stocking Brigade; and they didn’t see but what the duty could be
+performed by them as well as by any others. Jack Tappen thought they
+could attend to it a little better than any others, and so declared.
+That point agreed on, they discussed ways and means. Everyone there
+except Fudge and Pete Robey had a High School uniform which it would,
+they decided, be quite permissible to wear. Fudge declared that he would
+buy a uniform, and Pete was sure he could borrow one. Gordon’s
+announcement that Dick had been tendered and had accepted the position
+of manager met with acclaim, and Will and Way, in the same breath,
+demanded a speech. Dick declined to address the meeting, contenting
+himself with reminding the turbulent pair that as manager he had the
+power to fine them for misconduct. At which Will and Way, pretending to
+be much alarmed, subsided. It was agreed that every member was to pay
+his own car-fares when the team journeyed from home, and that the
+manager’s expenses were to be provided for by an assessment on each of
+one-ninth of the necessary amount. Dick claimed the floor, there to
+state that it would probably not be necessary for the others to provide
+his expenses, and that in any case he would pay his own way unless the
+team journeyed a long distance.
+
+The name of the team was decided on—the Clearfield Baseball Club. Harry
+Bryan was in favor of something with more “snap” to it, something like
+the Clearfield Pirates or the Clearfield Giants, but he was defeated.
+Dick, who had taken the proceedings in hand, then announced that the
+election of a captain was in order, and Tom Haley, Fudge, and Jack
+Tappen nominated Gordon in unison. The others signified approval
+noisily. Gordon, however, insisted on being heard.
+
+“You fellows don’t have to make me captain,” he protested, “just because
+I started the thing going. It wasn’t my idea, anyhow; it was Bert
+Cable’s. I’ll be captain if you really want me, but I think some of the
+rest of you would be better, and I nominate Tom.”
+
+“Nominate all you like,” grunted Tom Haley. “I decline.”
+
+“I nominate Lanny,” said Will Scott.
+
+“Second the nomination!” piped up Way.
+
+“Much obliged, fellows,” said Lanny, “but I’d rather not. Let’s make
+Gordon captain and not be scared out of it. All in favor make a lot of
+noise!”
+
+There was a lot of noise, a very great deal of noise, and Dick
+laughingly declared Gordon elected. “Speech! Speech!” shouted the
+irrepressible Fudge, beating a tattoo on the hardwood floor with his
+heels.
+
+“Shut up, Fudge! And stop denting the floor with those hob-nailed shoes
+of yours. I saw Mr. Brent this morning, and asked him if we could use
+the field as long as it wasn’t wanted for anything else, and he said we
+could. So I propose that if the Point plays us a return game we play on
+our own grounds. Now, about practice. You fellows know we’ve got to get
+together and have a good lot of real work before we run up against those
+Point fellows. So I say let’s have practice every afternoon next week at
+four-thirty. Maybe after next week every other day will do, but we don’t
+want to let those silk-sox chaps beat us, and so we’ve got to practice
+hard. Will all you fellows agree to come to practice every afternoon?
+That doesn’t mean Tom, because he’s got a lot of work to do, and,
+besides, we don’t need him so much. He will come as often as he can. But
+the rest of us ought to get out every day.”
+
+“That’s right,” agreed Jack Tappen. “If we’re going into this thing,
+let’s go into it with both feet. There’s no reason I can see why we
+shouldn’t have as good a baseball team as there is in this part of the
+state. We all know the game pretty well——”
+
+“Oh, you right-fielder!” exclaimed Fudge.
+
+“——And most of us have played together this Spring. And with Gordon
+for captain we ought to just everlastingly wipe up the county!”
+
+Loud applause greeted this enthusiastic statement, and Fudge began his
+tattoo again, but was cautioned by a well-aimed pillow which, narrowly
+avoiding a vase on a side table, eclipsed his joyous countenance for an
+instant.
+
+“I guess,” said Lanny, “that we can all get out and practice; can’t we,
+fellows? In fact, Gordie, it might be a good plan to have it understood
+that any fellow not turning up, without a real, genuine excuse, is to
+pay a fine.”
+
+“How much?” demanded Fudge anxiously.
+
+“Half a dollar,” suggested Will.
+
+“A quarter,” said Jack.
+
+“A quarter’s enough, I guess,” said Dick. “How about it? Everyone
+agree?”
+
+“Who’s going to decide whether the excuse is a good one?” inquired
+Fudge.
+
+“Dick,” said Gordon.
+
+Fudge sighed with relief. “All right. Dick’s a friend of mine.”
+
+“Then Wednesday at four-thirty, fellows,” said Gordon, “and bring your
+bats. By the way, there’s one thing we’ve forgotten: We’ll have to buy
+balls. Suppose we all chip in a half to start with?”
+
+That was agreed to, and the meeting was served with lemonade and cakes
+and adjourned, everyone departing save Dick, Lanny, and Fudge. These,
+with Gordon, went out to the porch and took possession of the front
+steps. There was a fine big moon riding in the sky, and, since
+Clearfield was economical and did not illuminate the streets in the
+residence districts when the moon was on duty, it had no competition.
+The leafy shadows of the big elm fell across the porch, blue-black,
+trembling as a tiny breeze moved the branches above. Dick leaned against
+a pillar and laid his crutches between his knees, and the others grouped
+about him. Perhaps the refreshments had worked a somnolent effect on
+them, or perhaps the great lopsided moon stared them into silence. At
+all events, nothing was said for a minute or two, even Fudge, usually an
+extremely chatty youth, having for once no observations to offer. It was
+Gordon who finally broke the stillness.
+
+“Some moon,” he said dreamily.
+
+“Great!” agreed Lanny. “You can see the man in it plainly to-night.”
+
+“Supposing,” said Fudge thoughtfully, “supposing you were terribly big,
+miles and miles high, and you had a frightfully huge bat, couldn’t you
+get a d-d-dandy swipe at it!”
+
+“You could make a home run, Fudge!” laughed Lanny. “Only you’d have to
+hit pretty quick. Why, if you were tall enough to reach the moon, it
+would be going past you faster than one of Tom’s straight ones, Fudge!”
+
+“Quite a bit faster,” agreed Gordon. “Still, it would be ‘in the
+groove,’ and if you took a good swing and got your eye on it you could
+everlastingly bust up the game!”
+
+“I think,” replied Fudge, who had literary yearnings, “I’ll write a
+story about a giant who did that.”
+
+“Well, there are some pretty good hitters among the ‘Giants,’” commented
+Dick gravely. Fudge snorted.
+
+“You know wh-wh-what I mean!” he said severely.
+
+“Of course he does,” agreed Lanny. “Dick, you oughtn’t to poke fun at
+Fudge’s great thoughts. Fudge is a budding genius, Fudge is, and if
+you’re not careful you’ll discourage him. Remember his story about the
+fellow who won the mile race in two minutes and forty-one seconds, Dick?
+That was a peach of a——”
+
+“I didn’t!” declared Fudge passionately. “The p-p-printer made a
+mistake! I’ve told you that a th-th-th-thousand t-t-times! I wrote
+it——”
+
+“Don’t spoil it,” begged Dick. “It was a much better story the way _The
+Purple_ printed it. Any fellow might run the mile in four-something, but
+to do it under three shows real ability, Fudge. Besides, what’s a minute
+or two in a story?”
+
+“Aw, cu-cu-cut it out!” grumbled Fudge. “You f-f-fellows m-m-m-m——”
+
+“You’ll never do it, Fudge,” said Gordon sympathetically. “I’ve noticed
+that if you don’t make it the first two or three times you——”
+
+“——M-make me tired!” concluded Fudge breathlessly but triumphantly.
+
+“Snappy work!” approved Lanny. “If at first you don’t succeed——”
+
+“T-t-try, try again,” assisted Gordon. Fudge muttered something both
+unintelligible and uncomplimentary, and Gordon turned to Dick: “How did
+you get on with Mrs. Thingamabob at the Point, Dick?” he asked. “What’s
+the kid like?”
+
+“All right. The name is Townsend. They’re at the hotel. The boy is
+thirteen and he’s—he’s a bit spoiled, I guess. There’s an older
+brother, too, a fellow about seventeen. He confided to me that I’d have
+a beast of a time with the youngster. His name—the brother’s—is Loring
+Townsend. Anybody know him?”
+
+There was no response, and Dick continued:
+
+“He seemed rather a nice chap, big brother did. As for the kid—his name
+is Harold, by the way——”
+
+“Fancy names, what?” said Gordon. “Loring and Harold.”
+
+“No fancier than your own,” commented Fudge, still a trifle disgruntled.
+“Gordon! Gee, that’s a sweet name for a grown-up fellow!”
+
+“Not as sweet as Fudge, though,” answered Gordon.
+
+“That’s not my n-n-name!”
+
+“There, you’re getting him excited again,” said Lanny soothingly. “Move
+out of the moonlight, Fudge. It’s affecting your disposition. What about
+the kid, Dick? Is he the one you’re going to tutor?”
+
+“Yes; he’s entered for Rifle Point in the Autumn, and he’s way behind on
+two or three things. The worst of it is that he doesn’t seem very
+enthusiastic about catching up. I guess I’ll have my work cut out for
+me. The big brother told me that I was to take no nonsense from young
+Harold, and that he’d back me up, but—I don’t know. I guess Mrs.
+Townsend wouldn’t approve of harsh measures. She’s trying her best to
+spoil the kid, I’d say. I’m to go over five mornings a week, beginning
+Monday.”
+
+“I’m glad I don’t have to do it,” commented Gordon. “I’ll bet the kid is
+a young terror, Dick.”
+
+Dick smiled. “He is—something of the sort. But I guess he and I will
+get on all right after a while. And if he’s got it in him to learn, he
+will learn,” Dick added grimly. “That is, unless his mother——”
+
+“She’s bound to,” said Lanny. “They all do. Inside of a week she’ll be
+telling you that you’re working her darling too hard.”
+
+“How do you know so much about it?” challenged Fudge. “Anyone would
+think you were a hundred years old!”
+
+Lanny laughed. “I’ve kept my eyes open, Fudge, sweet child. Mothers are
+pretty fine institutions; no fellow should be without one; but they are
+most of them much too easy on us. And you know that as well as I do.”
+
+“Mine isn’t,” murmured Fudge regretfully. “She’s worse than my father at
+making me do things!”
+
+“Oh, well, you’re an exceptional case,” said Gordon gently. “When a
+fellow shows criminal tendencies like yours, Fudge——”
+
+“Yes, writing stories at your age! You ought to be ashamed!” Lanny spoke
+with deep severity. Fudge only chuckled.
+
+“Some day,” he announced gleefully, “I’m going to write a story and put
+you fellows all into it. Then you’ll wish you hadn’t been so fresh. The
+only thing is”—and his voice fell disconsolately—“I don’t suppose, if
+I told what I know about you, I could get it published!”
+
+“Deal gently with us, Fudge,” begged Dick humbly. “Remember, we used to
+be friends. I must be getting along, fellows. Coming over to-morrow,
+Gordie?”
+
+“Yes, I’ll drop around in the morning. We’ve got to get busy and send
+out some challenges. Who can we get to play with us, Lanny, besides
+Lesterville and, maybe, Plymouth?”
+
+“I don’t know. I think there are plenty of teams, though, if we can find
+them.”
+
+“They have a team at Logan,” said Fudge, “but I guess they’re older than
+we are.”
+
+“What do we care?” asked Gordon. “Logan’s a good way off, though, and I
+suppose it would cost like the dickens to get there.”
+
+“Make them come over here,” suggested Lanny.
+
+[Illustration: “‘Good-night,’ responded Gordon and Fudge”]
+
+“Yes, but then they’d want their expenses guaranteed.”
+
+“Look here,” observed Dick, “why couldn’t we charge admission to some of
+the games after we got started? I dare say quite a lot of folks would
+pay a quarter to see a good game.”
+
+“They might,” conceded Lanny. “We could try it, anyway. If we could get,
+say, a hundred admissions, we’d have twenty-five dollars, and then we
+could pay the expenses of any team around here. That’s a bully idea,
+Dick. As a manager you’re all to the good.”
+
+“I thank you,” replied Dick, setting his crutches under his arms. “We’ll
+talk it over to-morrow. You come over, too, Lanny; and Fudge if he is
+not in the throes of literary composition.”
+
+“I’ll walk around with you,” said Lanny. “It’s too bully a night to go
+to bed, anyway. Good-night, fellows.”
+
+“Good-night,” responded Gordon and Fudge. “Good-night, Dick.”
+
+They watched the two as long as they were in sight in the white radiance
+of the moon, and then:
+
+“They’re two of the finest fellows in the world,” said Fudge warmly.
+“And wouldn’t Dick be a wonder if he was like the rest of us, Gordie?”
+
+“Y—yes,” replied Gordon thoughtfully, “only—sometimes I think that
+maybe if Dick was like the rest of us, Fudge, he might not be the
+splendid chap he is.”
+
+Fudge objected to that, but afterward, returning home by way of the back
+fence, he thought it over. “I suppose,” he told himself, as he paused on
+his porch for a final look at the moon, “what Gordie means is that
+tribulations ennoble our characters.” That struck him as a fine phrase,
+and he made a mental note of it. Still later, as he lay in bed with the
+moonlight illumining his room, he began to plan a perfectly corking
+story around the phrase, with Dick as the hero. Unfortunately, perhaps,
+for American literature, sleep claimed him before he had completed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DICK VISITS THE POINT
+
+
+On Wednesday the Clearfield Baseball Club reported for practice. There
+was a full attendance, with the exception of Tom Haley. Gordon confined
+the hour’s work to fielding, however, and Tom’s absence was not felt.
+Fudge had purchased a brand-new High School uniform and Pete Robey had
+been lucky enough to borrow one from a boy who had played on the team
+several years before. As the shirts and caps held only the letter “C,”
+there was nothing misrepresentative about the gray uniforms. Of course,
+the fact that the C was purple and that the stockings were of the same
+royal hue might lead one to mistake the team for the High School nine;
+but Gordon had consulted the principal, Mr. Grayson, in the matter, and
+Mr. Grayson had given it as his opinion that, so long as they did not
+pretend to be the High School team, there could be no harm in wearing
+their school uniforms.
+
+Most of the fellows had not played since the final game with Springdale,
+nearly a month before, and were consequently rather out of practice.
+Muscles were stiff, and that first day’s work only produced soreness.
+But by Saturday the fellows were pegging the ball around with their
+old-time ginger and running and sliding with their accustomed agility.
+Tom pitched to the batters on Friday, and the result proved that batting
+practice was far from being a waste of time. Even Gordon, who had headed
+the batting list that Spring, found that his eye was bad and that he
+could connect with Tom’s easy offerings scarcely better than the
+tail-enders.
+
+Fudge plunged into the business with heart and soul, determined to make
+himself not only a useful member of the outfield but a regular Ty Cobb
+or Home-Run Baker at the bat. I regret to have to state that for some
+time Fudge’s fielding was not at all spectacular and that he never—or
+at least never that summer—threatened to dispute Mr. Cobb’s supremacy
+with the stick. But they didn’t expect great things from Fudge; and as
+time went on he developed a very clever judgment in the matter of fly
+balls and even became able to throw with some accuracy to the infield.
+
+Meanwhile, Dick had entered into correspondence with some half dozen
+baseball teams in not too distant towns, and already a game had been
+scheduled with Lesterville, who, to Dick’s surprise and satisfaction,
+offered to pay Clearfield’s expenses if it would visit Lesterville.
+Manager Lovering promptly agreed and the date of the contest was fixed
+for the second Saturday following the Rutter’s Point game. On Friday
+morning Dick and Caspar Billings again met and completed arrangements.
+Caspar, a boy of Dick’s own age, took a great liking to the Clearfield
+manager, and insisted on his staying to luncheon with him on that
+occasion, and it was on the Billings’ veranda, within a stone’s throw of
+the waves, that the two talked it all over.
+
+Caspar was a fine-looking youth, rather large but well conditioned, with
+dark hair and eyes, a ready smile, and a jovial laugh. He lived in New
+York, but had been spending his summers at the Point for several years.
+Dick met Caspar’s mother and two older sisters at luncheon, but Mr.
+Billings was not present, and Dick gathered that he remained in New York
+save for an occasional week-end. When Caspar explained that Dick was
+tutoring Harold Townsend, Mrs. Billings shook her head pessimistically.
+
+“I’m afraid,” she said, “you’ll find him rather difficult. He isn’t
+exactly what I’d call a nice-dispositioned boy.”
+
+“Come, mother, don’t discourage Lovering at the start,” laughed Caspar.
+“We all know that the kid’s horribly spoiled, but then Lovering isn’t
+going to be a governess to him!”
+
+“I don’t want to discourage him, dear, but I thought it only right he
+should know that—well, if he isn’t very successful, it won’t be
+altogether his fault. Mrs. Townsend is a dear woman, but I can’t admire
+the way she has brought up that boy.”
+
+“His brother has already warned me,” replied Dick, with a smile. “I’m
+prepared for the worst. So far, Harold has behaved very well. He doesn’t
+like to study much, but he hasn’t—well, lain down in the shafts yet.”
+
+“He will, though,” laughed Caspar. “And if you don’t keep a tight rein
+he will bust the shafts! That brother of his is a nice chap, though. By
+the way, he’s going to play first base for us, Lovering.”
+
+“Who is your pitcher?” asked Dick.
+
+“I—we aren’t quite sure. We expect it will be Mason, but he hasn’t come
+yet. If he doesn’t show up we’ll have to find some one else. You know
+Morris Brent, don’t you? He’s on the team, too. Then there’s Pink
+Northrop and Jim House and Gilbert Chase and Charlie Leary and—let’s
+see; oh, yes, Billy Houghton. And Mason, if he gets here in time. How
+many’s that? Never mind. I dare say I’ve forgotten one or two. I guess
+we’ll average a year or so older than you chaps, but you have been
+playing together, and I guess that will equalize things. That field over
+behind the hotel isn’t the best in the world, but it’s not bad in the
+infield.”
+
+“What position do you play?” asked Dick, when they were back on the
+veranda.
+
+“Third usually. I’m not particular. I’m not much of a player, but I get
+a lot of fun out of it. I’ve tried two years running for the team at
+school and haven’t made it yet.”
+
+“What school do you go to?”
+
+“St. George’s. We turn out some pretty fair ball teams there. I’m going
+to try again next Spring. It’s my last year, and if I don’t make it then
+I’m a goner.”
+
+“I suppose you’re going to college, though?”
+
+“No; my father doesn’t want me to. Says he needs me with him in the
+office. I don’t mind—very much. Of course, I’d like to go; ’most every
+fellow I know at school is going. Maybe father will change his mind
+before Spring. What about you, Lovering?”
+
+“College?” Dick shook his head. “I’d like it mighty well, too, but it
+costs too much. Funny how fellows who can go don’t care about it.
+There’s Morris Brent. His father’s crazy to have him go to college. He
+tells Morris he can have his pick of them all. Morris doesn’t want to go
+a bit; and he won’t, I guess, if he doesn’t brace up.”
+
+“Exams, you mean?”
+
+Dick nodded. “Morris is always in trouble with his studies.”
+
+“His father’s a bit of a Tartar, isn’t he?” asked Caspar. “I’ve only met
+him once or twice, but he seemed sort of cross-grained.”
+
+“I don’t know. I know he and Morris are always at outs about one thing
+or another. Just now, I hear, it’s an automobile. Morris wants one, and
+his father says he can’t have it. Do you know him very well?”
+
+“Not very. We’ve seen each other quite a little for several summers, but
+we aren’t awfully chummy. I don’t quite——” Caspar paused, with a
+puzzled frown. “If he’d forget that his father has a lot of money, he’d
+get on better with fellows here. I like his sister, though. She’s an
+awfully nice, jolly kid. And his mother’s mighty nice, too.”
+
+“Yes, so I’ve heard. I don’t know them. Well, I must get along. We will
+be over here in time to begin the game at three on Saturday, Billings.
+I’ll talk to Gordon about the umpire, but I’m pretty sure the chap you
+speak of will be satisfactory to us. Thanks for being so kind. Will you
+say good-bye to your mother and sisters, please?”
+
+“That’s all right,” replied Caspar warmly. “Hope you’ll come around
+often, Lovering. See you Wednesday, anyway.” He watched Dick’s deft
+manipulation of his crutches anxiously. Finally: “I say, it’s a long
+walk to the trolley. Let me take you over, won’t you? We have a sort of
+a horse and cart here, and it won’t take a minute to hitch up.”
+
+“No, thanks; I like to walk,” replied Dick, with a smile. “Maybe you
+wouldn’t call it walking, though; perhaps I ought to say that I like to
+‘crutch.’”
+
+“Call it what you like,” responded Caspar heartily, “you certainly do it
+mighty well, Lovering!”
+
+Dick reached the trolley station in ample time for the two-forty-five
+car back to Clearfield, and on the way his thoughts dwelt largely on
+Master Harold Townsend. Master Harold was a good deal of a problem. So
+far, as Dick had told Mrs. Billings, the boy had behaved very decently,
+but Dick knew quite well that it was principally because he was still in
+some awe of his tutor. That awe would soon wear off, for there wasn’t
+enough difference in the ages of the two to allow Dick to keep the upper
+hand very long. Then, as Dick realized, there’d be trouble.
+Unfortunately, he could not, he felt, count on the boy’s mother to back
+him up, for that lady was lamentably weak where her youngest son was
+concerned. Of course, Dick might keep on drawing his wages all summer
+and nothing would be said, but he didn’t intend to do that unless he was
+earning them. And it wasn’t going to be an easy matter to earn them as
+soon as Harold got over his present diffidence and the slight enthusiasm
+with which Dick had managed to imbue him. The money meant a good deal to
+Dick, and he hated to think of losing it, but one thing was certain: As
+soon as he failed to make progress with Harold he would quit. Perhaps he
+would find another pupil, he reflected more hopefully, although so far
+only Mrs. Townsend had replied to his application.
+
+Just then, his gaze wandering along the flying landscape, he caught
+sight of a small blue runabout automobile trying desperately to keep
+pace with the trolley car. The road was a good three hundred yards away,
+and it was not possible to make out with any certainty the identity of
+the lone figure in the blue car, but Dick was pretty sure that the
+daring driver was Morris Brent. If so, he had, then, overruled his
+father in the matter, thought Dick. It wasn’t like Mr. Brent to change
+his mind, either. In any case, and whoever was driving the runabout,
+that light vehicle was plunging along the none too smooth road at a pace
+that brought Dick’s heart into his mouth more than once and attracted
+the concerned attention of all the occupants of the trolley car. Several
+times, as it seemed, the runabout narrowly avoided collision with the
+white fence which ran beside the dirt road, and Dick was heartily
+relieved when, presently, a team approached from the direction of
+Clearfield, and the driver of the automobile, recognizing the futility
+of trying to pass at his present reckless speed, slowed down and was
+lost to sight from the car.
+
+Dick mentioned the incident to Gordon at practice that afternoon, but
+Gordon was unable to say whether Morris had bought the automobile he had
+spoken of. “He said he was going to, though, whether his father wanted
+him to or not. Said he had some money of his own and that Stacey, the
+agent on Oak Street, would wait for the rest. If his father finds it
+out, he will be hopping mad, I’ll bet.”
+
+“It won’t take him long to find it out,” replied Dick dryly. “At least
+two dozen persons saw him to-day. Someone’s pretty sure to speak of it.
+The idiot was driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!”
+
+“That’s the way Morris would drive,” said Gordon. “By the way, there’s a
+meeting of the Athletic Committee called for next Saturday night in
+Assembly Hall to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says he
+doesn’t see how we’re going to get a field without paying for it, and we
+haven’t any money to do that.”
+
+“It’s tough luck,” replied Dick. “Have they any field in sight?”
+
+“I don’t think so. Will said something about a piece of land on the way
+to the Point, near the picnic ground. Do you know what he means?”
+
+“No; but I guess there’s plenty of land there. I don’t believe it’s very
+level. I suppose beggars mustn’t be choosers, however.”
+
+“I think it’s mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that field away from us!”
+said Gordon scowlingly.
+
+“Did you tell him so the other day?” Dick asked innocently.
+
+Gordon laughed. “No, I forgot to! Come on and let’s get these fellows
+started. Tom, will you pitch at the net for a while?”
+
+“Shall I tell Billings it’s all right about the umpire, Gordie?”
+
+“Yes; we don’t care who umps as long as he knows how. If they play us
+again, we’ll have the choice then. Now then, fellows, get your batting
+eyes! Don’t be too easy with us, Tom. Speed ’em over, old scout!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CLEARFIELD PLAYS THE POINT
+
+
+Clearfield boarded the two-fifteen trolley car on Wednesday and set out
+for Rutter’s Point in high spirits. They had intended taking the
+two-o’clock car, but Harry Bryan and Fudge had failed to arrive at the
+starting point on time. Harry claimed business affairs as his reason for
+tardiness, but Fudge’s excuse was both vague and involved, and Gordon
+informed him that the next time he failed to be on time he would be left
+behind. Fudge smiled dreamily.
+
+The team in their gray uniforms with purple stockings presented a very
+natty appearance. To be sure, some of the stockings were pretty well
+faded and several of the suits were somewhat stained, but on the whole
+the players passed muster very well. They took possession of the first
+two seats on the car and had a very happy and fairly noisy time of it.
+Dick and Gordon got their heads together over the batting order and
+rearranged it for the third time. When it was finally fixed to their
+liking it was as follows: Bryan, 2b; Scott, 3b; Merrick, 1b; Wayland, l.
+f.; Tappen, r. f.; Robey, ss.; White, c.; Shaw, c. f.; Haley, p.
+
+“We’ll try it that way,” said Gordon, “and see how it goes. Maybe we’d
+better put Jack after me, though. What do you think?”
+
+“We had it that way, and you thought we’d better change it,” answered
+Dick patiently.
+
+“I know, but—but I guess he ought to follow me, Dick.”
+
+“Look here,” said Dick, with a smile, “who’s manager here?”
+
+“You are,” replied Gordon, a trifle sheepishly.
+
+“All right. I just wanted to know.”
+
+“Then—you think——”
+
+“I think the batting order is going to stay just as it is!”
+
+They reached the field shortly after half-past two, and found a handful
+of spectators from the hotel and cottages already seated in the shade of
+the little row of trees behind the third-base line. The Point team was
+not in evidence, and Gordon quickly distributed his players over the
+diamond and started warming up. Five minutes later the rival team
+appeared by ones and twos, and Caspar Billings sought Dick where he was
+watching the performance of his charges. When Gordon came in from first
+base, Dick introduced the rival captains and they shook hands. Other
+introductions followed, but several of the Point fellows were already
+known to the Clearfield members. Clearfield gave up the diamond to her
+opponents at ten minutes to three, and watched their practice. The Point
+team was not in agreement, it appeared, as to a uniform. Every player
+wore togs of some sort, but at least a half-dozen schools were
+represented, and there were stockings of about every color in the solar
+spectrum in evidence. The umpire was named Vokes, and was a college man
+who was serving as a clerk at the hotel. Gordon decided that while Mr.
+Vokes’ sympathies might be with Rutter’s Point he was not the sort to
+let them affect his decisions. Also, Gordon reflected, unless he was
+very much mistaken, Vokes knew baseball from A to Z. As it turned out,
+Gordon was not mistaken, and Mr. Vokes’ umpiring was perhaps the most
+perfect feature of that far from perfect contest.
+
+Clearfield, as the visiting team, went to bat first. Dick, who had been
+given the Point batting list by a youth who was to score for the home
+team, was relieved to find that Mason was not set down as a pitcher.
+Dick didn’t know a thing about Mason, but he somehow had got the
+impression that Mason was something a bit unusual. Evidently he had not
+arrived in time for to-day’s game. The pitcher whom the Point presented
+was named Porter. He looked capable and wore a Lawrenceville cap with
+what Dick took to be the second team insignia over the visor.
+
+The Point team averaged perhaps a year and a half more than the visiting
+nine, and was almost entirely composed of players from well-known
+preparatory schools. As, however, they had never performed together
+before as a team, save in one or two desultory practice games with a
+nine made up of hotel employees, Dick had hopes of taking their measure
+to-day.
+
+Some seventy or eighty onlookers were gathered together on the grass
+behind the third base line, prepared to root for the Pointers, when
+Porter delivered the first ball to Harry Bryan. It was a pretty hot
+afternoon, for what breeze there was came from the landward side of the
+sun-smitten field. Two settees had been placed on the first-base side of
+the plate for the accommodation of the visitors, and here Dick and the
+others sat in the full glare of the afternoon sun, Dick perspiring over
+his score book and the rest watching interestedly the behavior of the
+rival pitcher. The field was fairly level about the infield, but further
+out it rolled a good deal and was covered with rough, bunchy grass.
+
+Porter disposed of Harry Bryan without trouble, and Will Scott took his
+place at the plate. Will beat out a slow grounder to shortstop and went
+to second on Gordon’s bunt down third base line. But Gordon was out at
+first and Curtis Wayland let the third strike get by him.
+
+Rutter’s Point led off with a clean two-base hit by Caspar Billings and
+followed it with a neat sacrifice bunt that placed the captain on third.
+But he died there a few minutes later, for Tom Haley struck out Morris
+Brent easily and made the next man pop up a fly to Pete Robey.
+
+The second inning passed without a score, but in the first of the third,
+after Tom Haley had struck out, Harry Bryan drove a long fly into right
+field and reached second when the fielder misjudged it. Will Scott
+walked and Gordon hit clean past third, Harry scoring the first run and
+leaving third and second occupied. Way went out, second to first. Jack
+Tappen put himself in a hole and then emerged brilliantly with a smash
+that was too hot for the pitcher. Will scored and Jack reached first
+safely. With Gordon on third, Jack tried a steal. To his surprise the
+Point catcher slammed the ball down to shortstop and Jack was caught a
+yard away from base. Gordon scored too late.
+
+But with a lead of two runs things looked bright for Clearfield. The
+Point again failed to cross the platter, although Loring Townsend got as
+far as second. Tom’s shoots were too much for the home team. Neither
+side scored in the fourth. When the first half of the fifth began Pete
+Robey was up, and Pete, contrary to expectations, delivered a scratch
+hit and reached the first bag. Lanny flied out to left fielder and Pete
+reached second ahead of the throw-in. Fudge went out on strikes and,
+with Tom Haley up, the inning seemed over. But Tom made his one hit of
+the game, a Texas Leaguer that fell safely behind first baseman, and
+Pete legged it for the plate and arose from the dust triumphant with a
+tally. Tom got to second on the throw to the plate, but Harry was out,
+third baseman to first.
+
+So far Clearfield had played a clean game in the field, but in the last
+of the fifth luck deserted her. A hard smash down the first base line
+put a runner on second. A slow hit to Will Scott should have been an
+easy out, but Will booted the ball and the runner was safe. The next man
+went out on a foul to Gordon, but the following batsman cracked a liner
+between Peter and Harry and the Point scored its first run. With a man
+on third, Lanny declined to throw to second and the runner on first
+worked an easy steal. Then a batsman found one of Tom’s straight ones
+and sent it into short center. Fudge made a fine running catch, but the
+best he could do was to field the ball to Harry and Harry’s throw to the
+plate was too late to keep the Point from tying the score. Tom settled
+down then and struck out the next batter and the inning was over, with
+the score three to two.
+
+The spectators warmed up then and there was plenty of noise during the
+rest of the game. The sixth inning was uneventful, although both sides
+got men on bases. The Point pitcher was by no means remarkable, and, as
+Gordon complained, his deliveries would have been easy for Clearfield
+had the latter’s batsmen been in any sort of condition. As it was,
+though, they found him puzzling when hits meant runs and by the end of
+the sixth he had seven strike-outs to his credit. It was during the last
+half of that inning that a small youth detached himself from the group
+of spectators across the field and walked around to the Clearfield bench
+and seated himself beside Dick. He was a good-looking youngster, as
+brown as a berry, with a pair of big and rather impudent gray eyes.
+
+“Hello,” he said.
+
+“Hello,” responded Dick, glancing up from his score. “How are you
+to-day, Harold?”
+
+“Fine and dandy,” replied that youth easily. “Keeping score?”
+
+“Yes,” answered Dick, crediting Harry Bryan with an assist and Gordon
+with a put-out and penciling the mystic characters “2-1 1” in the square
+opposite Pink Northrop’s name. “Enjoying the game, Harold?”
+
+Harold Townsend yawned. “I guess so. We’re going to beat you fellows.”
+
+“Think so?” asked Dick amiably.
+
+“Sure thing. Our pitcher’s just getting good now. Bede Porter never
+begins to pitch till the middle of the game. He will have you fellows
+eating out of his hand pretty soon.”
+
+“Well, he’s pitched a pretty good game so far. Hello!” Dick was gazing
+in surprise at the boy beside him. “What have you done to your hair?”
+
+Harold grinned. “Had it clipped. Mother’s so angry she can’t see
+straight. She said I wasn’t to, but I went down to the barber shop this
+morning before breakfast. Gee, it’s fine and cool!”
+
+“Hardly the right thing to do, though, was it?”
+
+“Oh, she’ll get over it. Other fellows have their heads clipped in
+summer, don’t they?”
+
+Dick evaded the question. “How are you getting on with your lessons?” he
+asked. “Going to be all ready for me Monday morning?”
+
+“I guess so,” replied Harold without enthusiasm. “Who’s the fellow
+catching for your team, Lovering?”
+
+“Lansing White.”
+
+“Gee, that’s a good name for him, White. He’s a regular tow-head, isn’t
+he?”
+
+“Is he? He’s a fine chap, though.”
+
+“He don’t catch as well as Billy Houghton. Look at the way Gil Chase
+stole on him last inning. Say, you keep score dandy, don’t you? Isn’t it
+hard?”
+
+“Not very, when you’re used to it. Would you like to learn how?”
+
+“No, I can do it well enough. It’s too much trouble, anyhow. I’d rather
+play. My brother’s the best player on our team.”
+
+“Better than Caspar Billings?” asked Dick idly.
+
+“Aw, go on! He can’t play! Why, Loring’s been first baseman on his
+school team for two years. He could be captain if he wanted to.”
+
+“That’s very nice,” said Dick. “Now you’d better scoot along and make
+room for the fellows. That’s three out. I’ll see you Monday, Harold.”
+
+“All right. Don’t come if it’s too much trouble,” replied the boy with a
+grin. “I shan’t mind.”
+
+“That your pupil?” asked Lanny, sinking on to the bench beside Dick.
+“Looks like a fresh kid.”
+
+“He is, rather,” replied Dick dryly. “Will, you’d better play further
+in. That fellow House has laid three bunts down the base line and made
+them good twice. You’re up, Jack. Pete on deck. Let’s have a couple of
+runs this inning, fellows.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BLUE RUNABOUT
+
+
+But although Jack Tappen drove out a two-bagger over shortstop’s head
+and Pete Robey got safely to first on an error by the third baseman, the
+next three players went out in order, Lanny on a foul that was pulled
+down by third baseman, Fudge on strikes and Tom Haley on a weak effort
+to second baseman.
+
+Encouraged by the valiant cheers of its supporters, the Point went to
+work in its half of the seventh in a very business-like way. Townsend
+beat out a bunt in front of base, Morris Brent hit safely into short
+left field, advancing Townsend, and Gil Chase sent a hot one through the
+pitcher’s box which Tom couldn’t handle. With the bases full, things
+looked bad for Clearfield. Tom knocked down House’s drive, however, held
+Townsend at third, and worked the first out. Then Leary, after spoiling
+three good ones, fouled out to Lanny, and Clearfield breathed easier.
+But Pink Northrop, although a tail-ender on the batting list, came
+through with a hit that brought shrieks of delight from the Point
+sympathizers and sent two runs across. Billy Houghton trickled a slow
+bunt toward first and the man on third tried for the plate. But Gordon,
+running in fast, got the ball to Lanny ahead of the runner and the side
+was out.
+
+“You’re up, Harry,” announced Dick. “There’s a fine opening for a bright
+young man between third and short. See what you can do.”
+
+“I’ll try it, but I’m batting pretty punk,” replied Harry doubtfully.
+“What’s the matter with a bunt, Dick?”
+
+“Nothing doing, Harry. Hit it out. Get to first and try a hit-and-run
+with Will.”
+
+But Harry’s effort was a weak grounder that bounded nicely into
+shortstop’s hands and there was one out. Gordon, behind first, looked
+worried as Will faced the pitcher. But, “Pick out a good one, Will,” he
+called cheerfully. “He hasn’t much on it.”
+
+Will, profiting by the advice, sought to select one to his liking and
+Porter very soon found himself in a hole. The umpire didn’t like
+Porter’s offerings any better than Will and after six deliveries Will
+walked to first.
+
+“That’s the stuff!” cried Jack Tappen, relieving Gordon on the coaching
+line. “He’s all in! Whale it out, Gordon! Here we go, fellows!”
+
+Gordon swung viciously at the first ball across and the third baseman
+stepped cautiously back. Then came a wide one that Gordon disdained. The
+next was likewise a ball by a narrow margin. At first Will was dancing
+back and forth and Jack was coaching at the top of his lungs, while from
+behind third Lanny was offering his budget of advice and comment. Porter
+wound up again, Will started for second and Gordon swung his bat. There
+was a _crack_ as ball and bat met, and Will, nearing second, saw Lanny’s
+entreating gestures and never paused in his stride.
+
+Out in center field the ball was bounding along the turf and Gordon was
+already rounding first. Luck helped Clearfield then, for just as center
+fielder slackened his pace to get the ball the latter struck against a
+tuft of the coarse grass in front of him and bounded erratically aside.
+At third Lanny waved Will on to the plate. Gordon, pausing a few yards
+past first, took up his running again while the center fielder turned
+and raced back for the rolling ball. When he reached it Gordon was
+sliding to second in a cloud of dust and Will was halfway to the plate.
+The fielder, Jim House, made a beautiful throw, but Will beat it, and
+the best the catcher could do was to hold Gordon on second.
+
+On the Clearfield bench the purple-hosed players cheered and cavorted,
+while on the shady side of the diamond a strange silence held. Way
+tapped the base impatiently with his favorite bat and Harry implored him
+to hit it out. Porter looked nervous for the first time.
+
+“He’s up in the air!” shrieked Harry. “Wait for your base, Way. You
+don’t have to hit it! He’ll pass you! Here we go! Here we go! Here——”
+
+Harry paused only because Way had picked out the first ball offered him
+and had banged it across to shortstop. Gordon scurried to third and Way
+raced toward first. Shortstop got the ball on a low bound, cast a
+hurried look toward third and pelted it across to first. But the throw
+was poor and although first baseman got it he dropped it the next
+instant and the umpire spread his hands wide.
+
+“Watch home!” implored the catcher. But Gordon was taking no chances
+with only one out and contented himself with dancing up the base line a
+few yards to draw the throw. The ball went back to pitcher and pitcher
+and catcher met and held a conference. Gordon spoke to Lanny and Lanny
+nodded.
+
+“Well, I guess we’ve got them guessing, Harry,” he called across.
+
+“Here’s where we break it up, fellows!” responded Harry. “On your toes,
+Way! Here we go!”
+
+Porter glanced over his infield, tugged at his cap, hitched his
+trousers, studied the catcher’s signal and wound up. But the throw was
+to first and Way was nearly caught napping. Twice more Porter tried to
+clear that base, and then, anticipating a steal, threw out to the
+catcher. But Way hugged first and only grinned, while the umpire
+announced “One ball!” Then a curve went over the corner of the plate and
+Jack Tappen had a strike on him. The Point infield was playing close and
+Jack knew that a bunt would not help any. He let the second strike go
+by, a deceptive drop, and then came the signal from Harry.
+
+“Make it be good, Jack!” called Harry. “Here we go! Here we go!”
+
+Porter wound up again and Way started for second. It was now or never
+for Jack and desperately he glued his eye to the oncoming sphere, swung
+and felt the pleasant tingle that announced that he had hit it! Then he
+was racing for the base. Shortstop had the ball a dozen feet back of the
+base line. Second baseman ran to cover that bag. Perhaps he thought a
+throw to the plate would fail to head off the speeding runner from
+third, or perhaps he had some idea of starting a double play. At all
+events, Chase tossed the ball quickly toward second. It reached there
+simultaneously with second baseman and Way. Second baseman made a grab
+for it and got it, but at that instant Way, sliding into the bag
+feet-foremost, collided with the defender of the sack and the ball
+trickled away in the dust. Gordon slid across the plate, Way was safe at
+second and Jack was grinning from first!
+
+That misadventure was the Point’s undoing. Porter went to pieces then
+and there. Pete hit a liner that sent in Way, put Jack on third and
+himself on second; Lanny, enjoined to wait for his base, stood idle
+while the pitcher slammed four balls past him, and then, with the bases
+full, and one out, Fudge, with the score two strikes and two balls,
+resisted the temptation to swing and was presented with his base. Jack
+was forced across for the fourth tally.
+
+Tom, eager to add his mite to the slaughter, hit a beautiful drive
+toward left field and the runners started around. But Caspar Billings
+performed the impossible. Although the ball was at least a yard over his
+head, he knocked it down with his right, spoiling what was intended for
+a two-bagger, and sped it to the plate ten feet in front of Pete, who,
+with the possible exception of Caspar himself, was the most surprised
+youth on the field. Back flew the ball to third, but Lanny had luck with
+him and somehow managed to slide into the bag ahead of Caspar’s
+descending arm.
+
+Encouraged, Rutter’s Point set about getting the third out, and Porter
+settled down to deceive Harry Bryan. But Harry, realizing that in all
+probability this would be his last time at bat, and seeing what a fine
+opportunity was presented him to write his name on the annals of fame,
+was cautious and watchful. Porter worked a low ball over for a strike,
+followed it with a ball wide of the plate, coaxed him with a slow one
+that failed to entice Harry or please the umpire and then tried to sneak
+a fast one across in the groove. But Harry saw it coming, laid all his
+strength along that slender piece of ash he held and swung! And when the
+excitement was over three more runs had been piled on to Clearfield’s
+score and Harry was seated, breathless but happy, on third, having lined
+out a two-base hit into deep center and taken third on the throw to the
+plate. That ended it, however, for Will Scott popped a foul into first
+baseman’s hands.
+
+With the score ten to four against them the Rutter’s Point team was
+discouraged and beaten. It tried half-heartedly to get a man around in
+the last of the eighth and managed to stop Clearfield in the first of
+the ninth, although some poor base-running on the part of the visitors
+did more than any efforts of the home team to save the plate in that
+inning. And in the last half of the ninth the Point actually got a
+runner as far as third. But there he stayed while the next two batsmen
+fell before Tom’s slants and a third sent up a short fly that settled
+comfortably into Pete Robey’s hands and brought the game to an end.
+
+Clearfield cheered Rutter’s Point, in the intoxication of the moment
+using the regular High School slogan, and Rutter’s Point cheered
+Clearfield and bats were gathered up and the two teams started off the
+field. They came together at the corner of the hotel and Caspar called
+to Dick: “We’d like to try you again, Lovering, some time.” And Dick
+answered: “Glad to play you, Billings. We’ll talk it over soon.”
+
+Morris Brent laid a hand on Gordon’s arm and pulled him aside. “Say,
+Gordon, I’ve got my car here. Come on back with me, won’t you? I’ll get
+you home quicker than the trolley will do it.”
+
+“Why, much obliged,” murmured Gordon, “but——”
+
+“Oh, come on! I want you to see how dandy it runs.”
+
+“I’m not insured,” laughed Gordon, trying to pull away from the other’s
+detaining hand.
+
+“Oh, pshaw! I won’t dump you out. I’ll run as slow as you like. Come
+on.”
+
+“Well, all right,” agreed Gordon without enthusiasm. “Oh, Dick! I’m
+going back with Morris. I’ll see you this evening.”
+
+Morris led the way toward the pier, where the Clearfield road joined the
+shore avenue, and Gordon saw the blue runabout standing at the side of
+the road. It was a very attractive little car, in spite of the layer of
+gray dust which sullied the shining varnish.
+
+“Isn’t she a peach?” demanded Morris. “And go! Say, I went nearly forty
+miles an hour in her the other day!”
+
+“Yes,” replied Gordon dryly, “Dick saw you, I guess. He said you were
+racing with the trolley.”
+
+“Oh, shucks, not that time! I was only doing about thirty then. I had to
+slow down for a team. You ought to have seen me the other morning on the
+Springdale road. That was going some, I tell you!”
+
+“Well, if you try any thirty mile stunt to-day I’ll fall out the back of
+it,” warned Gordon.
+
+“I won’t. Wait till I start it. All right. In you get. Pretty
+comfortable seats, aren’t they?”
+
+“Yes,” agreed Gordon as the runabout swung around in the dusty road and
+headed toward Clearfield at a moderate speed. “Does—does your father
+know about it?”
+
+Morris chuckled. “No, not yet. I don’t want him to, but I suppose some
+busybody will tell him.”
+
+“Bound to,” said Gordon. “Especially if you do such spectacular stunts
+as you did the other day. Folks on the trolley, Dick said, expected to
+see you go off the road any minute.”
+
+“Pooh! Folks who don’t drive autos always think that. Why, you’re just
+as safe in this thing as you are in the trolley. Safer, I guess.
+Remember when the car jumped the track year before last and killed six
+or seven people?”
+
+“Yes, but I’ll take my chances with the trolley,” replied Gordon. “There
+it goes now. I wonder if the fellows caught it.”
+
+“Sure. Anyway, we’ll soon see. I can catch that trolley as though it was
+standing still!” Morris pulled down his throttle and the little car
+bounded forward with a deeper hum of its engine. Gordon grasped the arm
+of the seat beside him.
+
+“Never mind!” he exclaimed. “I don’t care whether they did or not,
+Morris! Pull her down!”
+
+Morris obeyed, laughing. “Shucks,” he said, “that wasn’t fast. We were
+only going twenty-five or six miles an hour.”
+
+“How do you know?” grumbled Gordon, relaxing his grip.
+
+Morris indicated the speedometer with his foot. “That thing tells you,”
+he explained. “Watch the long hand. We’re doing sixteen now. I’ll hit
+her up a bit. There, see the hand move around?
+Twenty—twenty-two—twenty-four——”
+
+“That’ll do, thanks! And for the love of mud, Morris, keep her away from
+this fence!”
+
+“Why, there’s five feet there,” protested the driver.
+
+“Y-yes, but the old thing wabbles so it gives me heart failure!”
+
+“You just think it does,” returned Morris. “I can keep her as straight
+as an arrow if I want to.”
+
+“Want to, then, will you?” laughed Gordon uneasily. “And—and here’s
+another car coming, Morris. Hadn’t you better slow down a little?”
+
+“Say, you’re an awful baby,” commented the other. But he lowered the
+speed of the car still further and, to Gordon’s relief, hugged the fence
+pretty closely while a big gray touring car shot by them in a cloud of
+dust. Morris turned a speculative, admiring gaze on it as it passed.
+
+“Thirty-five easily, she’s making,” he said. “Some day I’m going to have
+one like that. These little cars are all right to knock about in, but
+they’re too light to get much speed out of.”
+
+“How fast do you want to run, anyway?” grumbled Gordon. “Isn’t twenty
+miles an hour fast enough?”
+
+“You wait till you run one and you’ll see,” laughed Morris. “Why, twenty
+miles will seem like standing still to you!”
+
+“It’s fast enough for me,” sighed Gordon. “Besides, this road is so
+rough that—_Morris!_”
+
+But Gordon’s cry was too late. There was a bump, a crash, the sound of
+splintering wood, and——
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ACROSS THE GULLY
+
+
+Gordon raised himself on one aching elbow and looked dazedly about him.
+Up the bank a dozen feet away lay the blue runabout on its side, one
+forward wheel—or the remains of it—thrust through a broken panel of
+the white fence that guarded that side of the road. A cloud of dust
+still hovered above the car, proving to Gordon that the accident had
+happened but the moment before. If it was not for that he could well
+have imagined that he had lain huddled up in a clump of bushes halfway
+down the steep bank for some time. His head was spinning wildly and he
+felt horribly jarred and bruised. But a tentative effort to get to his
+feet, while it was not successful because of dizziness, showed that at
+least he had no limbs broken. A second effort, made when the clouds had
+stopped revolving overhead like a gigantic blue-and-white pin-wheel,
+brought him staggering to his feet.
+
+Strangely enough, it was not until he stood swaying unsteadily on the
+bank that he remembered Morris, or, rather, that he felt any concern for
+him. Anxiously then he looked about on every side. But no Morris was to
+be seen. Gordon called in a weak and shaky voice. There was no reply.
+Summoning his strength, Gordon crawled slowly up the side of the
+declivity, pulling himself by bushes and grass-tufts until at last he
+was clinging limply to the fence rail. There he leaned for an instant
+and closed his eyes. He felt very much as if he was going to faint, and
+perhaps he would have had he not at that moment, just as he seemed about
+to go off into a deliciously fearsome black void, heard the sound of a
+low groan.
+
+Gordon pulled himself erect, opened his eyes and tried to look about,
+but the sunlight was frantically hot and glaring and the dusty road and
+the helpless hulk of the overturned auto danced fantastically before
+him. It was a full minute before he dared attempt to again lift his head
+and look. Even then sight was uncertain. But he realized that the
+groans—he heard them quite plainly now, low and monotonous—came from
+the further side of the car. He squirmed through the stout rails and
+stepped dizzily out into the road. Then he saw Morris.
+
+He lay half in and half out of the car, one arm stretched from him in
+the dust and the other caught between the spokes of the steering wheel.
+Evidently the wheel had saved him from being thrown out as Gordon had
+been, but the latter, gazing with horror at the white face that seemed
+crushed against the dirt of the highway, surmised that it would have
+been better for Morris had he too been hurled over the fence. The
+dreadful thought that Morris was killed assailed Gordon, only to be
+banished by the comforting knowledge that dead folks don’t groan.
+
+Gordon cast despairing looks up and down the road. Not a team or person
+was in sight. Then he knelt by Morris and spoke to him. But only low,
+unconscious moans answered him. Panic-stricken for an instant, Gordon
+gazed helplessly, his wits quite deserting him. Then common-sense
+whispered and he drew a deep breath of relief and seized Morris under
+the shoulders. Tug as he might, though, he could not budge the limp
+body. Then he saw why. Morris had evidently started to leap from the car
+and had got his left leg over the side when the car struck. Now that leg
+was imprisoned with the whole weight of the runabout upon it. Again
+Gordon looked along the highway for assistance, but, as before, the road
+stretched in either direction empty and deserted. Off toward town a
+cloud of dust hovered, but whether it indicated an approaching vehicle
+or a farmer’s wagon moving slowly toward Clearfield there was no
+knowing. Gordon set his lips firmly, striving to close his ears to
+Morris’ groans, and tried to think what to do. Perhaps if he could find
+water he could bring Morris back to consciousness, but what use to do
+that so long as the boy was pinned there under the car? No, the first
+thing to do was to set him free, and Gordon strove to think of a way to
+do it. He didn’t believe for an instant that he was capable of lifting
+that car and at the same time pulling Morris’ leg from beneath it. In
+fact, he doubted if he was strong enough to raise the weight of it. To
+make certain, however, he tried. It did move a little, he thought, but
+there was no question of raising it. Then he recalled seeing
+automobilists lifting their cars with jacks to put on new tires. If
+Morris had a jack——!
+
+In a moment he was struggling with the cover over the box at the rear of
+the seat. It was jammed at one corner and it took him a full minute to
+wrench it open. When he finally did, however, the lifting jack was the
+first thing he saw. It was a small contrivance, scarcely a foot high,
+and Gordon viewed it doubtfully as he hurried with it around to the
+side. Morris’ leg was held down at the ankle by the edge of the
+turning-board and there was barely space between the ground and the side
+panel of the car in which to slip the jack. But it went in finally and
+Gordon began to work the handle. There was a heartening click as the
+cogs slipped into place and a cracking of frame and varnish as the car
+slowly rose. Bit by bit it went and at last Gordon pulled the imprisoned
+leg out. And not an instant too soon, for there was a lurch, the jack
+toppled sideways and the car settled back again in the dust, a forward
+wheel spinning slowly around.
+
+Gordon turned Morris over on his back, placed a seat cushion, which had
+toppled out, under his head and again viewed the road anxiously. In the
+distance the dust cloud had disappeared and the road was still empty. He
+groaned with disappointment and exasperation. Usually a half-dozen
+vehicles would have passed in the ten minutes that had elapsed. To-day,
+because Morris’ life perhaps depended on getting him to a doctor, not
+one appeared! Gordon again thought of water and looked around him. Only
+dry hillside met his gaze on one side and only the equally dry gully
+separating road from trolley track on the other. But sight of the track
+gave Gordon an idea. The cars ran every quarter of an hour or so and if
+he could somehow get Morris down the bank, across the wide gully and up
+the slope on the other side it would be only a matter of a few minutes
+to town. But the distance was a good two hundred and fifty yards, he
+calculated, and Morris was no light burden. And, to increase his
+difficulties, he himself was in poor shape to make the effort. There was
+nothing else for it, however, and Gordon hurried to the fence and viewed
+the descent. A little further along was a place where the bank had at
+some time loosened and fallen in a miniature landslide and toward that
+spot Gordon was presently making his way.
+
+He tried carrying Morris in his arms, but after the first few yards he
+had to give up. Instead, he took him by the wrists and dragged him as he
+might have dragged a sack of potatoes. It was hard work getting him
+through the fence, but easier when that obstacle was negotiated, for the
+descent helped. At the bottom of the bank it was necessary to worm in
+and out between bushes, while briars caught at him and tripped him as he
+toiled backward toward the further side of the gully. Twice he stopped
+to regain his breath and mop his streaming face. And it was while he was
+taking his second rest that a buzzing, humming sound came to him from
+the direction of town, a sound that grew louder even while he turned to
+look. Far down the track, visible here for a half-mile, came one of the
+big trolleys, swaying from side to side and eating up the rails in its
+rapid flight. There was but one thing to do, and Gordon did it.
+
+Dropping Morris’ wrists, he set off at a run for the track. Once he
+tripped and measured his length in the briars, but he was up again in
+the instant, while, almost at hand as it seemed, the buzzing and
+throbbing of the rails sounded. When he finally reached the foot of the
+bank it seemed that he had not enough strength left to climb it. But
+climb it he did, somehow, with toes digging into the loose gravel and
+hands clutching at the infrequent tufts of grass or weeds. And when he
+reached the top and the side of the track the plunging car was almost up
+to him.
+
+He knelt there on the edge of the embankment and waved his arms,
+shouting at the top of his exhausted lungs. A screech from the whistle
+sent its warning and then the big car was hurtling past him, the
+motorman casting a puzzled, indifferent glance as he shot by and the few
+passengers turning inquiring faces toward the boy crouched beside the
+track. Dust enveloped him and a great despair crushed him, and he did
+what was perhaps the one thing that could have stopped the car. He
+crumpled up in a heap at the ends of the ties and then rolled, slowly at
+first and then gaining momentum as he went, down the gravel slope into a
+clump of bushes at the bottom.
+
+The conductor, who had leaned outboard at the warning shriek of the
+whistle, had seen the boy and had kept his eyes on him as the car had
+gone past. “Some kid wants to get on,” he explained to a passenger
+beside him on the rear platform, “but there’s no stop here.” Then his
+hand flew to the bell-cord. Boys didn’t crumple up like that and go
+rolling down embankments for the fun of it! With a loud grinding of
+brakes the big car came shivering to a stop a hundred yards along the
+track. The conductor tugged again at the cord and slowly the car crept
+backward. By that time the passengers were on their feet and the
+conductor was hanging over the steps. Then he had dropped and was
+plunging down the embankment in a cloud of dust and a cascade of loose
+gravel, the passenger on the platform following more carefully.
+
+Gordon was already struggling to his feet when they reached him, and
+somehow he made them understand that some thirty yards away lay the
+unconscious form of Jonathan Brent’s son. After that events were very
+hazy and confused to Gordon. Kindly hands pulled and lifted him up the
+embankment and into the car, where he subsided weakly on a seat. Voices
+asked questions and he tried to answer them. Someone caught sight of the
+overturned automobile and there was much pointing and much exclaiming.
+And then three men came toiling across the ground below with Morris and
+others slid and stumbled down to help them, and almost at once the big
+car was pounding back the way it had come, its strident whistle
+shrieking above the hum of the rails in an incessant warning and alarm!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE
+
+
+That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter’s Point car ever made, and
+almost before Gordon realized that town had been reached, and certainly
+before he had fully recovered from his experiences, the big yellow-sided
+car was coming to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was but
+two short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged and frantic whistling had
+summoned a knot of curious persons to the corner as the car trundled
+around the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to bear the
+still unconscious form the remaining distance.
+
+Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly. Someone had sped
+ahead and when the little throng reached the house anxious faces were
+already at the doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the men who had
+carried Morris inside returned to linger about the door and await the
+doctor’s verdict. The latter reached the gate a minute later, and,
+leaping from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag swinging
+briskly.
+
+There was a long wait after that. The accident was discussed in low
+voices by the small gathering outside and Gordon was forced to go
+through his story again. Presently he left the front steps and wandered
+around to the side of the house. From an upper window came the low
+mutter of voices. Near at hand was a rustic seat, placed against the
+wall of the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with a big sigh
+of relief. Inside the house a telephone bell rang shrilly. Footsteps
+hurried. The voices in the room upstairs still came indistinctly through
+the open window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he ought to
+be at home. His father would be angry with him if he was late for
+supper. But he didn’t want to go until he had heard whether Morris was
+going to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable in the corner
+of the rustic seat and he would just close his eyes a minute——
+
+Someone was shaking him gently and calling “Gordon! Wake up!” He
+stretched and opened his eyes. “Yes’m,” he muttered sleepily. But it
+couldn’t be morning, for it was almost dark and—and where was he? He
+sat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until his
+roaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent
+bending above him. “Oh!” he said, recollection coming to him.
+
+“Have you been here all the time?” asked Louise. “You poor boy!”
+
+“I—I must have fallen asleep,” admitted Gordon sheepishly. “How—how is
+he, Louise?”
+
+The girl’s face went suddenly serious in the twilight. “He’s pretty
+badly hurt,” she said. “One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly,
+Gordon.”
+
+“Is that all?” he asked anxiously.
+
+“They think so. Seems to me it’s quite enough, though.”
+
+“Of course, only——” Gordon heaved a sigh of relief—“I was afraid he
+was dying. He—he looked so awfully!”
+
+“Yes, didn’t he?” Louise shuddered. “He is still unconscious, but Doctor
+Mayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must have
+had an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how it
+happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?”
+
+He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly.
+Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now.
+
+“But I think you were splendid,” said the girl warmly. “To think of
+stopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully
+scared and—and everything. And wasn’t it a wonder you weren’t hurt
+too?”
+
+“Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had been
+thrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I
+think.”
+
+“I don’t see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the—that
+thing you spoke of,” she said admiringly. “Goodness, I’d have been so
+frightened I’d have just cried!”
+
+“I guess I’d better be going home,” said Gordon.
+
+“Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven’t had any supper, have you? I
+wish I’d found you here before.”
+
+“I don’t believe I want any,” he murmured. “I—I’m mighty glad he isn’t
+hurt any worse. I’ll come around to-morrow if you don’t mind and see how
+he is.”
+
+“Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon.”
+
+“I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn’t he?” asked Gordon.
+
+“He’s too upset and anxious now to be angry,” replied Louise. “But I
+suppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all the
+time that he shouldn’t run that car. It was horrid of him to get it
+without letting anyone know.”
+
+“I guess he’s got his punishment,” replied Gordon grimly. “A broken leg
+will keep him laid up a long time. I’m awfully sorry for him.
+Good-night, Louise.”
+
+It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was in
+reality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under the
+electric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper and
+Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity.
+
+“Well, Gordon, where have you been?” he asked.
+
+“Over to the Point, sir. I—we——”
+
+“I think I have told you fairly often that I do not like you to be late
+for your meals?”
+
+“Yes, sir,” assented Gordon wearily.
+
+“Exactly. It is now—hm—nearly eight o’clock. I think you had better go
+up to your room. You don’t deserve supper at this hour. And—hm—after
+this kindly give a little consideration to my wishes.”
+
+“Yes, sir.” Gordon wanted to tell him what had happened, but he was
+frightfully tired and the thought of getting upstairs and into his bed
+was very alluring. Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation was at an
+end by again hiding his face behind the newspaper and Gordon went
+indoors and quietly climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his mother
+would not hear him. But she did, and came out of her room with the
+secrecy of a conspirator.
+
+“Gordon, dear,” she whispered, “your father was very angry and said you
+were to have no supper, but I put a little something on a plate for you.
+It’s on your bureau. You shouldn’t stay out like this, though, dear.
+Your father doesn’t like it and—and it makes me worried, too.”
+
+“Yes’m, I won’t again,” replied Gordon. “I—I’m not very hungry, though.
+I’m going to bed.”
+
+“Aren’t you—don’t you feel well?” inquired Mrs. Merrick anxiously.
+
+“Yes’m, I’m all right. I just feel sort of tired. Good-night.” He kissed
+her and went on up the second flight. Half-way up, though, he paused and
+called down in a hoarse whisper: “Thanks for the eats, ma!”
+
+In spite of his weariness, sleep didn’t come readily. It was a hot,
+still night and, although his bed was drawn close to the two windows
+that looked out into the upper branches of the big elm, not much air
+penetrated to his room. He lay for a while staring out at the motionless
+leaves, intensely black in shadow and vividly green where the light from
+the big arc on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents of the
+day. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn’t dangerously hurt, grateful
+for his own escape from injury and sorry that Morris would have to lie
+abed for many weeks while his broken leg knit together again. Finally he
+dozed off only to awake in a terror, imagining that he was riding in an
+automobile that was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and deep
+that the bottom was miles away! He awoke shaking and muttering and it
+took him several seconds to reassure himself and throw off the effects
+of the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until he remembered
+the plate on the bureau. He got up and brought it back to bed with him,
+and leaned on one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken and
+bread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But he wasn’t really
+hungry and his appetite was soon satisfied. He put the plate on the
+floor beside him and settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nine
+and a moment later the town hall clock sounded the hour sonorously. Then
+the telephone in the first floor hall rang sharply and he heard his
+father’s chair scrape on the porch and his father’s feet across the
+hall.
+
+“Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?...”
+
+Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing he knew someone was
+pushing open his bedroom door cautiously and asking if he was awake.
+
+“Yes, sir,” answered Gordon.
+
+Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the bed. “Time you were
+asleep, son,” he said concernedly. “Having trouble?”
+
+“I—I’ve been asleep once, sir. Something wakened me.”
+
+“Hm. Er—I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the telephone, Gordon.”
+
+“Yes, sir?”
+
+“Hm. He told me about the accident, son.”
+
+“Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?”
+
+“Doing very well, he said. Why didn’t you—hm—why didn’t you tell me
+about it?”
+
+“I don’t know, sir. I was sort of tired, and——”
+
+“Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile to the trolley,
+Gordon.”
+
+“It wasn’t nearly that far. And I didn’t carry him. He was too heavy.
+I—I pulled him.”
+
+“Well, the doctor says it’s a lucky thing you got him home as quick as
+you did. Mr. Brent is—hm—very grateful. He’s going to stop in the
+morning and see you.”
+
+“He needn’t be,” murmured Gordon. “It wasn’t anything.”
+
+“Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm—I’m sorry I was so
+short with you, son. If you’d explained——”
+
+“Yes, sir, I ought to have. It—it’s all right, dad.”
+
+“Well, but—if you’re hungry, Gordon——”
+
+“I’m not, sir. I—no, sir, I’m not.”
+
+“If you are I guess you and I can forage around and find something. Sure
+you wouldn’t like a little bite?”
+
+“No, sir, thank you.”
+
+“Well—hm——” Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon’s arm and pressed it.
+“Sorry I scolded, son. I—we—we’re proud of you, boy.”
+
+Gordon didn’t answer. It was rather embarrassing and he was glad of the
+darkness.
+
+“Good-night, Gordon.”
+
+“Good-night, sir.”
+
+Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunching
+china and an exclamation.
+
+“What’s this?” asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
+
+“It—it’s a plate, sir. Mother—that is——”
+
+“Hm,” said Mr. Merrick, and then again “Hm!” He pushed the broken
+fragments under the bed. “I—hm—I can understand that you aren’t very
+hungry,” he said dryly. “Evidently your mother—hm—well, good-night,
+Gordie.”
+
+The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond the
+window. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn’t his father would
+never have called him Gordie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+GORDON BEARS A MESSAGE
+
+
+Gordon was up at seven the next morning, having had, as he reckoned, a
+good nine hours and more of sleep. At breakfast he told again the story
+of the accident, this time to an interested audience of three. The third
+was Fudge, who, since almost an hour before, had been hanging around
+waiting for Gordon’s appearance, and who now was seated at table with a
+cup of coffee and one of Mrs. Merrick’s graham muffins in front of him.
+Fudge acknowledged that he had rather skimped his breakfast. Mr. Merrick
+mildly censured Gordon for accepting Morris Brent’s invitation to ride,
+but it was evident that he was too proud of Gordon’s part in the affair
+to be severe. Fudge was anxious to know what had become of the runabout
+and Gordon replied that so far as he knew it was just where they had
+left it.
+
+“I guess,” he said, “it’s pretty badly smashed up. I know one wheel has
+about all the spokes out of it, and I think the axle is busted. Still, I
+dare say it can be mended.”
+
+“B-b-bet you Morris will never run it again, though,” said Fudge. “Guess
+it’s a good chance for someone to buy an auto cheap. Wish I could!”
+
+“Why, William!” murmured Mrs. Merrick. “The idea!”
+
+“Oh, a fellow doesn’t have to run it the way Morris did,” replied Fudge
+knowingly. “Tim Turner’s father has had a car for two years and he’s
+never had an accident yet.”
+
+“Why don’t you see Mr. Brent?” suggested Gordon. “I dare say he will let
+you have it for almost nothing.”
+
+Fudge thrust a hand in a pocket and gravely counted the change he drew
+out. “If he’ll let me have it for sixty-three cents I’ll take it,” he
+said.
+
+Mr. Merrick pushed back his chair. “If I ever hear of either of you
+riding in an automobile without permission I’ll see that you get what
+you deserve,” he said grimly.
+
+Fudge grinned. “You’d have to catch me first,” he said.
+
+Gordon announced his intention of running over to see Dick and his
+father reminded him that Mr. Brent was going to call. Gordon replied
+evasively that he guessed Mr. Brent had changed his mind. He secretly
+hoped that he had. But when, after Mr. Merrick’s departure for his
+office, Gordon wheeled his bicycle down the steps he saw Mr. Brent
+coming along the street, his ivory-topped walking-stick thumping the
+pavement briskly. Escape was impossible and so Gordon leaned his wheel
+against the gate post and waited. Fudge melted into the background. Mr.
+Brent was about the only person Fudge was in awe of.
+
+“Well, my boy,” greeted Mr. Brent, “you got off lucky.”
+
+“Yes, sir. I’m awfully sorry about Morris. How is he?”
+
+“Better than he deserves,” replied Mr. Brent with a snap of his jaws.
+“The doctor tells me it will be six weeks or more before he will be on
+his feet again. I suppose he was running the thing like mad, wasn’t he?”
+
+“No, sir, he was going quite slowly. I don’t know just how it happened,
+Mr. Brent. I think there must have been a bad place in the road.”
+
+“Of course it wasn’t his fault,” said the other dryly. “Well, it was a
+merciful thing he had you with him, my boy. His mother and I are very
+grateful to you, Merrick. You did a very plucky thing.”
+
+“It wasn’t anything,” muttered Gordon, looking longingly at his wheel.
+Perhaps Mr. Brent saw that he was more than willing to avoid further
+expressions of gratitude, for he smiled and said:
+
+“Well, that’s all. I wanted to see you and thank you. And as I told your
+father last night I’m ready and anxious to prove my gratitude to you. If
+there’s anything I can do, Merrick, you call on me.”
+
+“Thank you, sir, but I guess there isn’t anything.”
+
+“Perhaps some day there will be. When that time comes don’t forget what
+I say, Merrick. I wish you’d stop in at the house to-day or to-morrow
+and see Mrs. Brent. She wants to see you, my boy. And after Morris gets
+where he can talk to folks I’d like you to pay him a visit too. He
+doesn’t deserve it, but—well, I guess he’s in for a long, hard siege of
+it.”
+
+“Yes, sir, I will. I—I was going to call to-day and ask after him, but
+now that I know how he is——”
+
+“Better go just the same. My wife is anxious to tell you how she feels
+about it, Merrick. She can do it better than I can, too. Your father at
+home?”
+
+“No, sir, he’s gone down town.”
+
+“That’s where I ought to be. I waited around for the doctor to call. By
+the way, Merrick, there’s something you can do for me if you will. See
+this man Stacey and get him to take that automobile away from there. If
+I talk to him I’ll fly off the handle and tell him what I think of him.
+I don’t care what he does with the thing. He may burn it up or fix it up
+or anything he likes, but you tell him from me that he will never get
+another cent in payment. Will you do that?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I’ll see him right away. I guess the car will be worth quite
+a good deal after it’s fixed up. I mean, sir, I don’t think Mr. Stacey
+will be out much.”
+
+“I don’t care if he is,” replied Mr. Brent grimly. “Morris tells me he
+paid three hundred and fifty dollars and owes about two hundred more. He
+will never get it. You tell him so. If he wants to sue, let him. I wish
+he would!” Mr. Brent flicked angrily with his cane at a spray of leaves
+that peeked through the fence. “Well, I’ll be grateful if you’ll attend
+to that for me, Merrick. Good morning.”
+
+After Mr. Brent had gone Gordon summoned Fudge with a whistle and that
+youth sauntered around from the back yard. “I guess Stacey will be mad,”
+he commented when Gordon had told him of the commission he had accepted.
+“I’ll go along with you. I like a scrap.”
+
+“There isn’t going to be any scrap,” said Gordon. “I’ll just tell him
+what Mr. Brent says and come away.”
+
+“All right. Wait till I get my wheel.”
+
+Mr. Stacey’s place of business was on Oak Street, a smart shop with two
+big plate-glass windows behind which were displayed shining new
+automobiles. The proprietor was a small man under thirty who affected
+brilliant neckties and a jovial smile. But the smile faded when Gordon
+delivered his message. Mr. Stacey looked angry and ugly.
+
+“Is that so?” he demanded truculently. “Old Jonathan Brent said that,
+did he? Well, you tell him I hold Morris’ note for two hundred and
+thirty-five dollars and I mean to collect it. Why, that car’s no good to
+me, son! What would I do with it? It isn’t mine, anyway. I sold it
+fairly and squarely. If he wants me to fetch it in and have it repaired
+I’ll do it and charge him only what it costs, but as to taking it back
+and calling quits—nothing doing, son. You tell him that, see?”
+
+“It isn’t my affair,” replied Gordon calmly. “I’ve only told you what
+Mr. Brent asked me to. Why don’t you talk to him about it?”
+
+“Because I haven’t any dealings with him. I sold that car to his son. If
+he wants to talk to me let him come here or call me up on the telephone.
+It’s nothing to me. I’ve got Morris Brent’s note——”
+
+“It isn’t worth anything,” piped up Fudge, who found proceedings dull.
+“He isn’t old enough to give a note.”
+
+“We’ll see whether he’s old enough,” was the answer. “I’ll go to court
+with it if it isn’t paid prompt. Get me?”
+
+“Sure. But Jonathan Brent’s a bad man to fight, I guess,” said Fudge
+with a shake of his head. “I wouldn’t want to do it.”
+
+“Maybe you wouldn’t.” Mr. Stacey had to smile in spite of himself. “But
+I would—if I had to. I’m not in this business for my health, son. You
+tell Mr. Brent that if he wants me to haul that car in and repair it
+I’ll do it, but I won’t take it back.”
+
+“All right,” answered Gordon. “Seems to me, though, you could fix it up
+for a few dollars and have a perfectly good car.”
+
+“There’s no market here for second-hand cars,” replied the dealer
+shortly. “Tell you what I will do, though. I’ll fix that car up as good
+as new as cheap as it can be done and take it on sale. Maybe I’d find a
+buyer for it.”
+
+“You mean you’ll let Morris off on the balance he owes?”
+
+“No, sir, I don’t mean anything of the sort! I mean that he’s to pay
+what he owes when it comes due. If I can sell the machine he’ll get what
+it fetches, less my commission of twenty per cent. Understand?”
+
+“Well, I’ll tell Mr. Brent what you say,” agreed Gordon. “But I don’t
+believe he will be willing to have it that way.”
+
+“There’s no other way he can have it,” snarled Mr. Stacey. “He may have
+a heap of money and own this town, but he don’t own me! And he can’t
+cheat me out of what belongs to me, either! And you can tell him so! You
+tell him that if that two-thirty-five isn’t paid by the tenth of October
+I’ll sue for it.”
+
+“Think of him suing Mr. Brent!” chuckled Fudge as they went out.
+
+“I guess he’d have a pretty good case, though,” said Gordon. “Of course
+Morris _does_ owe that money to him.”
+
+“Pshaw, Morris’ note isn’t worth a cent.”
+
+“Maybe not; I don’t know about that; but he’s morally liable, isn’t he?”
+
+“I guess so. Going to tell Mr. Brent now, Gordie?”
+
+Gordon shook his head. “Not—not right away. I think I’ll see Dick
+first. I told him I’d be over last night.”
+
+Fudge chuckled again. “You’re scared,” he said. “I’d be, too. Tell you
+what, Gordie; tell him over the ’phone, why don’t you?”
+
+“I was thinking of letting you tell him, Fudge.”
+
+“Me! Gee, I wouldn’t d-d-do it if he g-g-gave me the car!”
+
+They found Dick on the porch. “Hail to the Hero!” he declaimed.
+
+“Shut up!” said Gordon.
+
+“Modesty is very becoming,” pursued Dick. “Hello, Fudge. I’m glad to see
+you in such distinguished society. Sit down, Gordie, and tell me about
+it. First, though, how’s Morris getting on? Lanny told me that he was
+pretty well broken to pieces.”
+
+“He’s got a busted leg. Broken in two places. That’s all. He was
+unconscious when they brought him home, but he’s all right that way now.
+There isn’t much to tell. We were coming along that stretch where the
+white fence is and——”
+
+Gordon went through with it again, Fudge interpolating details where
+Gordon failed to do full justice to the narrative. Afterward Gordon told
+about his visit to the automobile agent. “I don’t know what to do,” he
+ended. “I hate to tell Mr. Brent what that fellow said, Dick.”
+
+“I don’t see why. It isn’t your fault. Besides, Mr. Brent is in the
+wrong, anyway. It’s Morris’ duty to pay what he owes. The dealer isn’t
+supposed to find out before he makes a sale whether the buyer’s
+relatives want him to own a car!”
+
+“That’s all very well,” grumbled Gordon, “but he will be as mad as a
+March hare. I don’t see why he got me to do it for him, anyway.”
+
+“Because you’ve made a hit with him,” laughed Dick. “I believe if you
+asked for it you could get a yearly pass over the trolley line. And
+speaking of trolleys reminds me that I’ve got to hustle over to the
+Point and get busy with young Mr. Townsend. What time is it?”
+
+It was almost ten, and Dick seized his crutches and swung himself
+hurriedly into the house to reappear a minute later ready for the
+journey. Gordon and Fudge walked to the corner with him.
+
+“How about another game with those fellows, Dick?” asked Gordon. “Are
+you going to see Billings to-day?”
+
+“If you want me to. There’s time enough, though, I guess. We’ve got a
+game with Lesterville the day after to-morrow, as you perhaps recall.”
+
+“I know, but I was thinking we might get the Pointers to come over and
+play us a week from Saturday. You might see what Billings thinks about
+it.”
+
+“All right. If I can find him I’ll ask. By the way, he’ll have to find
+someone to take Morris’ place, won’t he? Guess, though, it won’t be hard
+to do. Here comes my car. See you later, fellows.”
+
+Gordon and Fudge mounted their wheels again when the trolley had rolled
+off and pedaled leisurely along Sawyer Street.
+
+“Too bad,” observed Fudge, “that Dick hasn’t got that automobile,
+Gordie. It would save him a lot of hard work, wouldn’t it? Say, someone
+may run off with it if it stays out there on the road much longer. Bet
+you half of it’s gone already!”
+
+There was no reply from Gordon, who was riding slowly along with his
+gaze fixed intently on his handle-bar.
+
+“You ought to have hidden it behind a tree or something before you came
+away, Gordie.”
+
+“Eh? Hidden what?”
+
+“The automobile, of course. Say, what did you think I was talking about,
+anyway?”
+
+“I guess I didn’t hear you,” replied Gordon apologetically. “I—I was
+thinking.”
+
+“Some day you’ll be doing that and get run down by a trolley car,”
+commented Fudge crushingly. “What were you thinking about?”
+
+“Nothing much,” answered Gordon. “Want to play some tennis?”
+
+“My racket’s busted. I can borrow Lanny’s, though. But I guess it’s too
+hot for tennis, isn’t it?”
+
+“Maybe. I suppose, anyway, I’d ought to see Mr. Brent and tell him what
+that fellow said. There’s no use putting it off. Will you come with me?”
+
+“Not to speak of! I’d do most anything for you, Gordie, but not that!”
+
+“Well, ride down town with me. You needn’t go in.”
+
+“That’s fair. And I’ll try to catch you when he drops you out the
+window. Come on.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+FUDGE SCENTS A SECRET
+
+
+Mr. Brent was not in. The clerk, recognizing Gordon as the youth who had
+called previously and been admitted, explained, in answer to his look of
+perplexity, that Mr. Brent had been suddenly called to New York and
+would be gone at least overnight.
+
+“He didn’t leave any message for me, did he?” asked the boy.
+
+“No. He went away hurriedly. If it’s very important, you can reach him
+in New York by telephone this afternoon.”
+
+Gordon departed, shaking his head. On the sidewalk he was presently
+joined by Fudge, who came out of Castle’s drug store, a few doors away,
+with a suspicious moistness about the mouth.
+
+“You’re soon back,” he said. “Did he throw you out?”
+
+“He’s away. Gone to New York. Now what’ll I do?”
+
+“Do nothing. That’s easy. I should think you’d be tickled to death.”
+
+“But that automobile can’t stay out there on the road forever, Fudge.
+Someone will steal it or pull it to pieces or something. I guess I’ll go
+over to the Brents’ and see what Louise thinks we’d better do.”
+
+“Huh! What’s a girl know about it?” demanded Fudge. “Say, I had a soda.
+Want one?”
+
+Gordon shook his head at first but finally allowed himself to be
+conducted to the front of the long white marble counter. A nice cold
+raspberry phosphate is an awfully good thing to soothe the mind, and
+Gordon felt more cheerful when he emerged. Fudge, who had followed his
+original root beer with a pineapple phosphate, confided to Gordon on the
+way home that he believed he’d apply at Castle’s for a job at the soda
+fountain.
+
+“You see,” he explained, “I never had enough soda yet, and if I worked
+there I’ll bet I’d have a dandy time!”
+
+Gordon postponed his call at Brentwood until after dinner and in the
+meanwhile presented his problem to his father. Mr. Merrick’s advice was
+caution. He thought Gordon had best let the automobile alone unless he
+obtained authority from Mr. Brent or perhaps Mrs. Brent to rescue it.
+When he reached Brentwood he asked for Louise and that young lady soon
+joined him. Morris, she reported, was very comfortable, considering the
+fact that his left leg was in a cast, but the doctor didn’t want him to
+see anyone quite yet. Gordon was secretly relieved, for he was afraid he
+wouldn’t know just how to behave or just what to say to an invalid.
+Louise led the way to the porch and then disappeared in search of her
+mother. When that lady appeared Gordon had to listen to many nice things
+and many expressions of gratitude, all of which embarrassed him
+horribly.
+
+Mrs. Brent was a short, comfortably stout lady with soft, quiet manners
+and a voice to match. Gordon liked her immensely, but just now he found
+himself wishing that he might have escaped her. It was Louise who,
+noting his unhappiness, finally came to his rescue.
+
+“There, mama, you’re embarrassing Gordon awfully. I’m sure he doesn’t
+want to be thanked any more. Besides, he didn’t come to make a social
+call; he’s here on important business. He told me so.”
+
+Gordon explained the difficulty about the abandoned automobile and asked
+them what he had better do. “You see,” he pointed out, “Mr. Stacey won’t
+go after it unless someone tells him to. I was thinking that perhaps the
+best thing would be to have one of the liverymen bring it back and keep
+it until Mr. Brent decides about it.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know what to say,” replied Mrs. Brent. “If Mr. Brent says
+he won’t pay the man the rest of the money, why, he won’t, and that’s
+all there is to that. But, of course, the automobile can’t stay on the
+road. I suppose, Louise, we oughtn’t to worry Morris with it just yet.”
+
+“Goodness, no! What does it matter what happens to the horrid old thing,
+anyway, mama? Let someone bring it into town and keep it. I’m sure
+Morris will never want to see it again, even if papa is willing; and of
+course he won’t be.”
+
+“Then if Gordon will see to it——”
+
+“Yes’m, I will. I’ll get Stewart to go after it. I guess he can pull it
+if he puts a timber under the broken wheel. There wouldn’t be room in
+your stable for it, would there?”
+
+“Yes, there would,” replied Louise. “There’s lots of room in the
+carriage-house. Tell Stewart to bring it here, Gordon.”
+
+“All right. That would be the best thing, I guess. Stewart would
+probably charge storage for it if he kept it at his stable. I suppose he
+will want quite a little money to haul it in, too.”
+
+“Tell him to charge it to papa, Gordon. Do you mind attending to it?
+It’s awfully nice of you to take so much trouble for us. You’ll begin to
+think we’re a pretty bothersome family, I’m afraid.”
+
+“I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to, Louise. I wish you’d remember me to
+Morris, please. I—I’ll call and see him some time after he’s able to
+have visitors. Is there anything I can do for him, Mrs. Brent?”
+
+“I think not, Gordon. You’ve done so much already——”
+
+“I couldn’t have done any less,” murmured Gordon hurriedly, fearing that
+Mrs. Brent was about to express her gratitude again. “Folks—folks made
+more of it than it—really amounted to. I guess I’ll go and see Stewart.
+I hope Morris will get along finely and—and everything.”
+
+“I suppose,” he said, after he had bade good-bye to Mrs. Brent, “you
+won’t get over to the Point for some time, Louise.”
+
+“No, not for a month, probably. I don’t mind a great deal. The main
+thing is to get Morris well again. It’s going to be terribly dull and
+stupid for him, Gordon.”
+
+“Fierce!” They had paused at the gate. “If there’s anything I can do, or
+anything any of us can do, Louise——”
+
+“Not now, but you can do a lot later,” she replied smilingly. “You can
+come and see him and cheer him up in a day or two. Will you?”
+
+“Of course! Glad to! And I’ll bring the other fellows, too.”
+
+“I guess there aren’t very many others, are there?”
+
+“Many others?” he asked.
+
+“Many others who would care to come, I mean. Morris doesn’t seem to have
+very many boy friends, does he?”
+
+“Why, I don’t know. I guess every fellow likes Morris——”
+
+“Fibber! Never mind, though. You come when you can, Gordon. Good-bye.
+I’ll tell Ryan to get a place ready for the automobile.”
+
+His way to Stewart’s stable led him past Lanny’s house and he slowed
+down as he reached the gate and whistled. Lanny appeared from around the
+house with a bicycle chain dangling in his hand.
+
+“Come on over to Stewart’s stable with me,” commanded Gordon.
+
+“Can’t.” Lanny exhibited the chain. “Chain’s busted. I’ve been trying to
+fix it, but I think I’ll have to take it to the shop.”
+
+“Bring it along, then, and we’ll walk. I’ll stick my wheel back of the
+fence here. I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”
+
+“All right. Wait till I get some of this dirt off my hands. It won’t
+take a minute.” As a matter of fact, it took five, and Gordon was
+established comfortably on the horse-block in front of the gate when
+Lanny returned. Together they went on along B Street and turned into
+River Street, talking very earnestly all the way and more than once
+pausing stock-still on the sidewalk. Whatever the subject of
+conversation was, it was easy to see that Lanny was both interested and
+enthusiastic, and at last, just before their halting progress landed
+them outside the livery stable, Lanny clapped a hand on Gordon’s
+shoulder.
+
+“It’s a peach of a scheme!” he declared. “Does he know anything about
+it?”
+
+Gordon shook his head. “I just thought of it awhile ago, after I’d seen
+him. I don’t think we’d better say anything to him about it, Lanny,
+because he’d probably refuse.”
+
+“That’s so. The best way is to go ahead and do it—and tell him
+afterward.” Lanny chuckled. “The other fellows will have to know,
+though.”
+
+“Yes, but we’ll make them promise not to talk. Gee, if I don’t hurry
+that automobile will stay out another night, I guess!”
+
+But fortunately Mr. Stewart had a truck and horses that could be at once
+dispatched on the errand and the two boys waited while the expedition
+made ready. Mr. Stewart himself, a good-natured little red-faced
+Scotchman, proposed to accompany the truck and personally superintend
+the project. Afterward Gordon went with Lanny to the bicycle repair shop
+and waited while a new link was put in the broken chain. Later in the
+afternoon they mounted their wheels and, with Fudge, who had joined them
+meanwhile, rode over to the back entrance of Brentwood and awaited the
+arrival of the automobile. It came about half-past five and was rolled
+into a corner of the big carriage-house. Then Gordon and Lanny and Fudge
+took stock of injuries. One wheel was smashed and the front axle was
+bent. It didn’t require an expert to determine that much. For the rest,
+barring a broken lantern and bent fenders and a dent in the radiator,
+the car was as good as new so far as they could see.
+
+“I wish I knew enough about cars to try it and see if the engine is all
+right,” said Gordon. “But I don’t see how anything can be wrong there,
+do you?”
+
+“No, I guess the wheels will go around same as before,” said Lanny. “How
+much do you suppose it will cost to fix it up?”
+
+Gordon shook his head. “Maybe thirty dollars,” he said finally. “What do
+you think?”
+
+“Bet it will be nearer a hundred,” said Fudge. “Repairs on automobiles
+cost like anything.”
+
+“Fudge knows,” remarked Lanny. “His repair bills are something
+frightful, aren’t they, Fudge? Why, he was saying just the other day,
+Gordie, that he had half a mind to sell two or three of his cars!”
+
+“Th-that’s all right,” sputtered Fudge. “I’ve heard Mr. T-T-Turner say
+th-th-that——”
+
+“Of course you have,” agreed Gordon soothingly. “By the way, Lanny,
+heard the latest? Fudge is going to get a job with Castle at the soda
+fountain.”
+
+“That s-s-s-s-so?” laughed Lanny.
+
+“Yes. Can’t you see Fudge, with a white apron on, leaning across the
+counter asking, ‘What kind of s-s-s-s-soda will you have, Miss?’”
+
+“‘S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,’” responded Lanny.
+
+“‘S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we’re all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla. We’ve got
+s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate, though.’”
+
+“Oh, dry up,” said Fudge, with a grin. “If you fellows come around there
+I’ll p-p-poison you!”
+
+“Well, come on, fellows, it’s supper time,” said Lanny. “Don’t you take
+that car out and go ‘joy riding,’ Mr. Ryan.”
+
+“Huh!” growled the Brent coachman, who had viewed the proceedings with
+deep pessimism. “I wouldn’t touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How
+do I know it won’t be blowin’ me up some fine night?”
+
+“It won’t if you treat it kindly,” Fudge assured him. “Give it plenty of
+oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and a drink of gasoline now and then and it’ll
+be as quiet as a lamb.”
+
+They left the coachman muttering over the harness he was cleaning and
+got on their wheels. “Who will you get to look at it?” asked Lanny as
+they rolled homeward.
+
+“I don’t know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I’ll have to talk with
+Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I guess. And maybe it won’t come to
+anything.”
+
+“What won’t?” asked Fudge suspiciously.
+
+“Never you mind, son. It’s something that doesn’t concern little boys.”
+
+“Go on and tell me,” begged Fudge. “Is it a secret?”
+
+“It wouldn’t be if you knew it,” answered Gordon unkindly.
+
+“I’d like to know when I ever blabbed anything,” exclaimed Fudge
+indignantly. “Didn’t I know all about Charlie Matthews a whole week
+before anyone else did? And didn’t I——”
+
+“Well, we may tell you some time,” teased Gordon. “What do you think,
+Lanny?”
+
+“I guess so. It would cost money to advertise it in the paper, and
+so——”
+
+“Oh, you make me tired,” growled Fudge. “I don’t want to know it anyway.
+’Tain’t anything, I’ll bet!”
+
+“Not a thing, Fudge,” agreed Lanny.
+
+“Then what you so—so mysterious about?” Fudge demanded.
+
+“To arouse your curiosity, Fudge. Good-night, Gordie. Maybe you’d better
+tell him before he busts up. Good-night, Fudge. Say, we play Lesterville
+Saturday, don’t we?”
+
+“You bet! And don’t forget practice again to-morrow. We want to beat
+those fellows.”
+
+“Well, we’ve got a perfect record so far,” laughed Lanny. “Our
+percentage is one thousand. Played one, won one, lost none. Are the
+Pointers going to play us again?”
+
+“Sure! I told Dick to see Caspar Billings to-day if he had a chance and
+see if they’d come over here a week from Saturday.”
+
+“That’s good. Bet you, though, they lick us next time. So long.”
+
+Lanny sped homeward and Gordon and Fudge parted midway between their
+gates. “You come over after supper, Fudge, and I’ll tell you what that
+is we were talking about.”
+
+“Thanks, but I guess I don’t care to know,” replied Fudge a trifle
+haughtily. Gordon laughed.
+
+“Don’t be a chump. We were only fooling. All the fellows are going to
+know about it, but I’ll tell you first if you’ll come over.”
+
+“You told Lanny first,” Fudge objected doubtfully. “But—I’ll come.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A REVERSED DECISION
+
+
+Two days later the Clearfield Baseball Club met at the railroad station
+shortly after dinner time and boarded the train for Lesterville. Only
+Harry Bryan was missing. A press of business had developed at the
+grocery store and Mr. Bryan had, to Harry’s sorrow, set his foot down on
+a Saturday holiday. A small youth named Tim Turner, a youthful crony of
+Fudge’s, was drafted to play in right field and Jack Tappen was moved to
+second in Harry’s place.
+
+None of the fellows was very hopeful of beating Lesterville, for the
+neighboring mill town had maintained for several years a nine which
+averaged fully two years older than Clearfield. But, as Dick pointed
+out, the game would be fine practice, even if they were beaten. “We
+really need,” said Dick, “to run up against a spanking good nine and see
+how the game is played.”
+
+Some of the fellows hooted at that, but Dick only smiled. “That’s all
+right,” he replied. “I’ll wager that you’ll learn one or two tricks
+to-day worth knowing.”
+
+“What’s their pitcher like?” inquired Fudge anxiously.
+
+“They have two of them, Fudge, and they’re both pretty good.”
+
+“They won’t be hard for Fudge,” said Pete Robey. “Fudge will eat ’em
+alive!”
+
+“Bet you I make as many hits as you do,” responded Fudge eagerly. “Come
+on, now! Wh-wh-what do you say?”
+
+But Pete only grinned and shook his head. You couldn’t start an argument
+with Pete.
+
+On the way to Lesterville Dick exhibited a list of games which he had
+already arranged. Rutter’s Point was to play a return contest on the
+High School field a week from to-day, Logan was to visit Clearfield the
+following Wednesday and Corwin was to come a week later. “We have next
+Wednesday open,” explained Dick, “and a week from Saturday. I don’t
+believe we’ll be able to find a game for Wednesday, but I’ve written
+Shirley at Springdale to get up a team to play us that Saturday. I’ve
+told him we’d go over there.”
+
+“Fine!” exclaimed Tom Haley. “I’d love to have another chance at those
+fellows!”
+
+“Well, I suppose it won’t be quite the same team that we played last
+month,” said Dick. “I dare say some of their fellows have gone away for
+the summer. But that gives us three games anyhow, and perhaps four. And
+I heard of a team over at Locust Valley which may like to play us.”
+
+“All those games are at home, too,” reflected Lanny. “How about trying
+that scheme to charge admission, Dick?”
+
+“No harm in trying it,” returned the manager thoughtfully. “Whether it
+will go or not we’ll have to see. We could get a few notices printed and
+stick them around in the windows down town. And I guess the paper will
+announce the games if we ask.”
+
+“A lot of folks will pay a quarter to see a good game,” said Jack
+Tappen.
+
+“Would you?” challenged Gordon.
+
+“Sure,” laughed Jack, “if I had the quarter!”
+
+“Not if he could find a crack in the fence,” said Fudge.
+
+“Look here,” announced Will Scott, “someone said they were surveying the
+athletic field, Dick. Suppose they start to work there in a day or two.
+We couldn’t play those games, could we?”
+
+“In that case we’ll play the teams on their own grounds.”
+
+“It makes it pretty expensive,” objected Way. “I’m nearly broke now. If
+I lose my return ticket someone will have to pay my fare back.”
+
+“Oh, the walking’s good,” replied Tom carelessly.
+
+“Another thing,” said Lanny. “If we play away from home we can’t make
+any money.”
+
+At that most of the fellows observed each other with questioning and
+somewhat dismayed glances. Dick, studying his list, replied:
+
+“That doesn’t make much difference, does it? None of those places are
+far away and it won’t break us to pay trolley fares. After all, we don’t
+need the money as far as I see.”
+
+“Don’t we!” exploded Jack. “We need it like anything!”
+
+Curtis Wayland kicked him on the ankle and Jack subsided.
+
+“What for?” asked Dick, mildly surprised. “We’ve got four balls that
+haven’t been used and three that are still good. We’ve got bats and
+gloves and a mask and about everything else. I thought we were in this
+for the fun of it. What do we want to make money for?”
+
+But Jack only mumbled, while the others regarded him with threatening
+looks. Will Scott changed the subject gracefully.
+
+“You fellows don’t want to forget that there’s a meeting to-night about
+the new field. You’d better all show up. We want to get as many there as
+possible.”
+
+“Thought it was just a meeting of the committee,” said Gordon.
+
+“No, it’s public. We want to find out what the fellows think about it
+before we go ahead and do anything.”
+
+“I don’t see that there’s more than one thing we can think about it,”
+observed Tom. “The old field’s going and we’ve got to have another.
+That’s dead simple.”
+
+“Yes, but we may have to rent ground,” replied Way. “And we want to know
+how far out of town fellows are willing to go. And how much we ought to
+pay.”
+
+“And whether to get a place on the town side or across the river.
+There’s a field over toward the Point, right near the car line, that
+might do.”
+
+“That’s a long way from school, though,” objected Fudge.
+
+“Any place we find is going to be a long way,” replied Will. “There
+isn’t any place in town big enough to play baseball on. As a matter of
+fact, the whole thing is a good deal of a puzzle. It’s going to cost us
+a lot of money, any way you look at it. We’ve got to have a new track
+and we’ve got to fence the field in and move the grandstand to it. It’s
+going to cost like sixty. I wish old man Brent had to make us a present
+of the old field or lose his money.”
+
+“Stingy old codger,” muttered Fudge.
+
+“There’s no sense in blaming Mr. Brent, Fudge,” said Dick. “We ought to
+be grateful to him for letting us have the field as long as he has. What
+we’ll have to do is get subscriptions from the graduates and anyone else
+we can. The next station is ours, fellows. Get your bags together.”
+
+Lesterville was an unlovely town filled with smoking chimneys and the
+busy whirr of looms. A muddy canal intersected it and on either side
+immense brick mill buildings ran for the better part of a mile. But the
+boys didn’t tarry long in the town. A green trolley car bore them
+swiftly away from the belching chimneys and the hot, weary looking
+streets and out to the edge of the country. The ball ground was
+surrounded by a sagging fence and was ridiculously small. A long hit
+down the right or left foul line was certain to go over the fence, while
+even a good clout into center was likely to disappear through some hole
+in the rotting boards. A few unsheltered seats were clustered close to
+the first base line and these were already occupied when the Clearfield
+team arrived. The dressing-room was a ten-foot square space, unroofed,
+thrown together behind the stand. As the fellows changed into their togs
+the spectators on the top row of seats looked down upon them and offered
+sarcastic advice and rude comments. Fudge in particular aroused their
+humor and he was pestered so that he got his playing shirt on wrong side
+to.
+
+The Lesterville nine was a pretty husky aggregation. Most of them were
+mill employees and their average age must have been fully eighteen. The
+audience was particularly partisan and offensive, and Dick, settling
+himself on the visitors’ bench in the broiling sun and opening his
+score-book, reflected that it was perhaps well that there was no
+likelihood of Clearfield going home with the ball. He fancied that the
+hundred or so local sympathizers would make it quite uncomfortable for
+the visiting team if it won!
+
+There’s no necessity of following Clearfield’s fortunes that afternoon
+in detail. The contest was fairly featureless up to the eighth inning.
+The visitors could do nothing with Moriarity, the Lesterville pitcher,
+only three hits, one of them distinctly scratchy, accruing to their
+score and bringing in but one tally. On the other hand the home team
+showed itself very capable with the stick and Tom Haley’s best offerings
+were not puzzling after the second inning.
+
+A slight attack of stage-fright in that round on the part of Clearfield
+aided the home players. Almost every member of the visitors’ infield
+managed to make an error, while Tom’s wild throw to first in the third
+allowed Lesterville to add two runs to her already swelling score. When
+the eighth inning began Lesterville had nine runs to Clearfield’s one,
+and there seemed no reason to suppose that the final tally would be any
+more complimentary to Clearfield.
+
+Dick had predicted that his charges would learn some new tricks and his
+prediction was verified. Clearfield was the innocent victim of several
+plays quite outside her ken. Unfortunately, most of them were the sort
+she didn’t care to emulate. For instance, when Curtis Wayland tried to
+steal second on Jack Tappen’s lucky grounder into short right he failed
+for the simple reason that second baseman and shortstop occupied the
+base line and Way had to crawl around them to touch the bag.
+Unfortunately, by that time right fielder had sped the ball to
+shortstop, and the umpire, a young gentleman whose impartiality had all
+along been in grave doubt, ruled Way out. Of course Clearfield
+protested. Way lost his head and threatened bodily injury to the second
+baseman, who topped him by six inches, and some dozen or so Lesterville
+youths flocked to the scene. Gordon, however, lugged Way, protesting
+bitterly, from the field and then quietly asked the umpire to reverse
+his decision. But the umpire wouldn’t even listen and there was nothing
+for the visitors to do but swallow their indignation and accept the
+ruling. Again, earlier in the contest, the Lesterville pitcher objected
+to having a new ball thrown to him after Lanny had fouled a soiled one
+into the street, and turning, threw the new one far into center field.
+The center fielder refused to go after it and the umpire yielded,
+throwing out another old ball.
+
+Still, Lesterville did show some playing that the visitors opened their
+eyes at. Such base-running Gordon’s team had never witnessed. One
+red-headed youth named Myers never failed to steal second yards ahead of
+the ball and on one occasion stole all the way around the bases,
+reaching home on Tom’s wind-up and subsequent hurried and wild pitch.
+The Lesterville fellows were born ball players and had graduated from
+the back lots outside the factories. They knew every trick of the game
+and used them all.
+
+When Clearfield went to bat in the eighth it was Jack’s turn with the
+stick and Jack connected with a straight one and slammed it far out into
+left field, where it banged against the fence and rolled away from the
+fielder while Jack reached second with time to spare. Tim Turner fanned,
+Pete Robey worked a pass and Lanny hit into what should have been an
+easy double. But the Lesterville second baseman fumbled the ball and the
+bases were full. Unfortunately, with one out, it was Fudge’s turn at bat
+and Tom Haley followed Fudge. It looked to the visitors on the bench
+very much like another shut-out. But Fudge, perhaps still smarting under
+the gibes that had been thrown at him all the afternoon, surprised
+himself and everyone else by hitting cleanly between first and second.
+Two runs came in, Lanny reached third and Fudge stood panting on first.
+Tom Haley went out on strikes and Will Scott came to bat. Fudge stole
+without challenge. Will fouled off three and had two balls to his
+credit. Then something that looked good came his way and he swung at it
+mightily. The ball streaked far out into center field and the bases
+emptied. Will got to second safely, heard the frantic cries of the
+coachers and sprinted for third. Then in came the ball to shortstop, and
+that youth turned quickly and pegged to third. The sphere went fully
+four feet above third baseman’s head and Will legged it home while his
+team-mates on the bench shouted and cavorted and Dick, being unable to
+jump around, beat the ground with a crutch!
+
+Nine to seven looked a heap better than nine to one, and there was still
+but one man out. Clearfield had ecstatic visions of a victory. But the
+Lesterville pitcher settled down and disposed of Gordon with five
+pitched balls and made Way pop up an easy fly to right fielder, and the
+eighth inning was over for the visitors.
+
+Lesterville came back in her half with vigor and poor Tom was kept
+dodging liners that soon filled the bases. But the home team had a
+streak of bad luck in that inning. The runner from third was struck by a
+streaking liner that was meant for left field, and, fortunately for the
+opponents, the ball, after colliding sharply with the base-runner’s leg,
+rolled toward the pitcher’s box and Tom scooped it up and got it to
+first ahead of the batsman, who, counting on a two-base hit, had made a
+slow start. Lesterville resented her ill-fortune and, with two gone, the
+next batsman sent a long fly into left field that barely escaped going
+over the fence and had Way chasing around like a chicken with its head
+off while two tallies were added to Lesterville’s nine. A moment later
+Tom secured his fifth strike-out of the contest and the teams changed
+sides.
+
+There was still a chance to win, declared Dick, and Jack was instructed
+to lay down a bunt along third base line. Jack followed instructions
+deftly and to the letter. The ball trickled a scant ten feet and,
+although third baseman came in for it and both catcher and pitcher did
+their best, Jack was easily safe. Young Turner, instructed to sacrifice
+Jack to second, did his best but struck out miserably for the fourth
+time. Pete got the signal for a hit-and-run play and swung at the third
+ball. He missed it, but the Lesterville catcher, who so far had been
+pegging the ball to second with deadly aim, threw low and before the
+shortstop had secured the ball Jack was sprawled in the dust with one
+foot on the bag.
+
+Pete, with two strikes against him, was wary. Twice he spoiled good ones
+by fouling and then he was caught napping and retired to the bench with
+trailing bat. With two down the game looked to be over. But Lanny
+evidently thought otherwise, for he hit the first delivery squarely on
+the nose and Jack leaped away for third. The ball sped high toward
+center and although second baseman made a gallant attempt to get it, it
+went over his head. Jack turned third and streaked for the plate. The
+center fielder, however, had come in fast and now the ball was flying to
+the catcher. Lanny sped to second on the throw-in. Ten feet away from
+the home plate Jack hurled himself feet-foremost through a cloud of
+dust, rolled over the base and out of the way just as the ball settled
+into the catcher’s mitt. The umpire spread his hands wide to signify
+that the runner was safe, but the catcher turned fiercely on him.
+
+“He never touched it!” he bawled. “Look at where he went!” He indicated
+a mark far back of the plate.
+
+“Who didn’t touch it?” demanded Jack, scandalized and indignant. “I
+rolled over it!”
+
+Players ran up excitedly. The umpire hesitated, glanced from the
+belligerent catcher to the astounded Jack, shook his head and said:
+“He’s out!”
+
+“_What!_” shrieked Jack.
+
+“Sure you’re out,” said the pitcher with a grin. “You didn’t go anywhere
+near the plate. Beat it, kid!”
+
+Gordon grabbed Jack’s arm and hustled him toward the bench, pursued by
+the laughter of the Lesterville players and the gibes of the spectators,
+crowding off the stand. At second Lanny got to his feet and tramped
+morosely in to the bench.
+
+“I was all over the plate!” Jack was declaring fiercely. “He’s a
+robber!”
+
+“Of course you were,” agreed Gordon soothingly. “He knows it, but he’s
+scared of the bunch. Never mind, it’s all in the day’s work, Jack.”
+
+“I tell you I was safe!” sputtered Jack. “What do you want to quit for?
+Why don’t you make them play it out?”
+
+“No good, Jack. Shut up and change your things. We’ve got to hustle for
+the train.”
+
+Just then the Lesterville captain walked up to Gordon. “Say,” he said,
+“we’ll play you fellows again some time if you like. You put up a good
+game, all right, Merrick.”
+
+“Thanks, I dare say we can get together again,” replied Gordon not
+overly enthusiastic. “I’ll let you know.”
+
+“Next time we’ll have a decent umpire,” cried Jack, pausing on his way
+to the dressing shed. “That man’s a thief!”
+
+“Aw, don’t be a baby,” growled the opposing captain. “You were out all
+right enough. I saw the play, didn’t I?”
+
+“I don’t care whether you did or not. I was perfectly safe. I crossed
+the plate before the ball ever got to him!”
+
+“What if you did, kid? You didn’t touch it. That ump is all right. The
+trouble is you can’t take a beating. Chase yourself.”
+
+Jack was fighting mad then and pushed his way back, but Gordon and some
+of the others seized him, while the stragglers from the audience
+clustered around, eager for trouble.
+
+“Jack, you get out of here,” directed Dick sternly.
+
+“Like fun I will! That big chump can’t tell me——”
+
+“Just one more word and you’ll be suspended!” Dick spoke very quietly.
+Jack stared open-mouthed, his gaze traveling from the derisive face of
+the Lesterville captain to the stern countenance of the Clearfield
+manager. Gordon and Lanny still held him firmly. He swallowed hard,
+rewarded Dick with a baleful glare and said:
+
+“Go ahead and suspend! You’re a peach of a manager, anyhow, to stand
+around and let those robbers swipe the game on us! You——”
+
+But Gordon and Lanny hustled him promptly through the throng at that,
+the crowd dissolved and the field emptied. In spite of Jack’s protest
+the game was recorded: Lesterville, 11; Clearfield, 7.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JACK IS SUSPENDED
+
+
+They talked it over on the way back in the train and the consensus of
+Clearfield opinion was that, taking into consideration the indisputable
+fact that the umpire had been against them all through the game, the
+final score was nothing to be ashamed of. Only Jack failed to subscribe
+with any enthusiasm to that verdict. Jack frankly sulked.
+
+Dick called Gordon over to his seat after the discussion had waned and
+the fellows had quieted down. “Who,” he asked, moving his crutches to
+make room for Gordon, “can we get to take Jack’s place?”
+
+“To take Jack’s place?” exclaimed Gordon. “Why, what’s the matter with
+Jack?”
+
+“I thought you understood that he was suspended,” replied Dick calmly.
+“I certainly gave him a fair warning.”
+
+“But—but—” blurted Gordon in bewilderment, “you can’t do that!”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+Gordon stared. Finally, “Are you in earnest?” he asked.
+
+“Of course. I’m manager of this team. And while I’m manager the fellows
+have got to behave. Jack was all wrong. He had no business talking like
+that. In the first place, it wasn’t up to him to protest the decision.
+In the next place he might have got us into a nasty row with those
+toughs over there. They were dying for a scrap all along. If they had
+started anything we’d have got pretty well mussed up, Gordie.”
+
+Gordon nodded. “I know,” he said gloomily, “but—Jack was excited, Dick.
+And it _was_ a robbery. You can’t blame him for getting a bit hot about
+it.”
+
+“I don’t. I blame him for showing it, or, at least, proclaiming it. If
+I’m manager, I’m going to manage. If I can’t manage, I’m not manager.
+Which is it?”
+
+“Why, you’re manager, of course, Dick. But—Jack won’t like being
+suspended. In fact, he will probably get mad and quit altogether.”
+
+“I don’t think so,” replied Dick. “But that’s his look-out. He’s
+suspended for a week—if I’m manager.”
+
+“All right,” muttered Gordon. “Of course, you realize that leaves us in
+a hole next Saturday, Dick. Jack’s one of our best players, and I don’t
+know where we’ll find anyone to take his place.”
+
+“Neither do I yet. But we’ve got a whole week to find someone. He’d be
+suspended, though, if he was the last player on the team.”
+
+“Are you going to tell him?” asked Gordon uneasily. Dick smiled.
+
+“Evidently you don’t care to?”
+
+“I surely don’t.”
+
+“Yes, I’ll tell him. He ought to know it, though, because I usually mean
+what I say. You needn’t mention it to anyone to-day. I’ll have a talk
+with him to-morrow, maybe.”
+
+“He’ll quit flat-footed,” mourned Gordon. Dick smiled again.
+
+“I don’t believe so. I think I know Jack a little better than you do,
+Gordie.”
+
+The next afternoon, an hour or so after dinner, Dick called Gordon on
+the telephone. “Can you come around here for a few minutes?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, I was just starting, Dick. Anything up?”
+
+“Not much. I wanted to talk to you about a chap for Jack’s place.”
+
+“Oh! You—you haven’t changed your mind about that, then?”
+
+“No.” Dick’s voice sounded amused.
+
+“Well——” Gordon frowned at the telephone instrument. “I’ll be over
+right away, Dick.”
+
+Dick was on the porch, in spite of the fact that it was raining briskly,
+and his sister, Grace, was with him. Grace was thirteen and a very
+pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes. She was enveloped in a long apron
+and had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and explained to Gordon that
+she was in the middle of washing up the dinner dishes.
+
+“Dick called me out to read me a perfectly ridiculous story in the
+paper,” she laughed. “Read to Gordon, Dick, and see if he thinks it
+funny.”
+
+Dick laughed. “Grace was born without a sense of humor, Gordie, and I
+find I can’t educate her.”
+
+“Sense of humor!” scoffed Grace. “That story isn’t the least bit funny.
+I’ll leave it to Gordon.” She jumped up. “I must finish those dishes.”
+
+“What’s the story?” asked Gordon, seating himself well away from the
+dripping vines.
+
+“The story? Oh, never mind that! Jack’s just been here.”
+
+“He has? Well—what—how did he take it?” asked Gordon anxiously.
+
+Dick gravely regarded the point of one shoe. “Well, I’ll tell you the
+last thing he said as he went off, Gordie. He said: ‘Tell Gordon I know
+a fellow named Shores who works in the plating factory. He’s a pretty
+good ball player. If you like, I’ll talk to him and see if he will play
+for us Saturday.’”
+
+Gordon viewed his friend with admiration, and shook his head helplessly.
+“I don’t see how you manage folks the way you do, Dick,” he said.
+
+“That comes of being manager,” laughed Dick.
+
+“If I’d told Jack he was suspended for a week he’d have sassed me and
+gone off in a huff and never played again!”
+
+“Oh, no, he wouldn’t! Jack’s a good, sensible chap. He’s a little bit
+stuck on himself, but that doesn’t matter, and he will get over it some
+time. I just told him that he was wrong, and made him see it. And I
+convinced him without much trouble that it was for the good of the team
+that he should sit on the bench for a week. Of course, he was a bit
+huffed at first, but he got over that. In fact, Gordie, I think he’s
+rather proud of being suspended. It sounds sort of professional and
+big-leaguish!”
+
+“You could convince a fellow it was a real pleasure to have his head cut
+off!” said Gordon. “I wish I had your—your diplomacy.”
+
+“That’s a big word for it, Gordie. Last night’s meeting was rather a
+fizzle, wasn’t it?”
+
+Gordon nodded gloomily. “I don’t see how we’re going to get a field in
+time for football practice if we don’t do more than we did last night.”
+
+“Too much talk,” agreed Dick. “Somebody ought to just go ahead and find
+a field and then make a report on it. As for paying a hundred and
+twenty-five dollars a year rent for one, why, that’s poppycock. We
+couldn’t afford it, especially as we’ll have to build a running track
+before next Spring.”
+
+“Way suggested that we could transfer next Spring’s meet to Springdale.
+That would give us nearly two years to fix up a track.”
+
+“Not a bad idea. Most of the fellows seemed to fancy that place across
+the river beyond the carpet mills. It would be fairly near home, but
+it’s a mean part of town.”
+
+“Punk! If we have to find a new place—and I suppose we must—I’m for
+going out toward the Point. Fellows seem to think it’s too far out
+there, but you can jump on the trolley and get there in no time. They’d
+put a stop opposite the field for us if we asked.”
+
+“Yes, I should think Mr. Brent would do that much for us since he’s
+taking our field away,” agreed Dick. “By the way, seen Morris yet?”
+
+“No; I thought I’d go over this afternoon and see how he is. Maybe he’s
+receiving callers by this time. Dick, do you know anything about running
+an automobile?”
+
+Dick stared. Then he laughed. “Well, hardly, Gordie! How should I?”
+
+“Well, of course you’ve never run one, but you know such a raft of stuff
+fellows usually don’t know that——”
+
+“You thought I’d made a study of autos? No, I’m afraid I can’t advise
+you much, Gordie. Thinking of buying one?”
+
+“N-no, not exactly.”
+
+“Going to rent it, then?”
+
+“No, you idiot. I—I only wondered. I dare say you could drive an
+automobile finely, though. Your arms are all right and you told me once
+that you thought of getting one of those velocipede chairs that you work
+with your feet.”
+
+“I see what you’re driving at. Old Man Brent has commissioned you to
+sell that car of Morris’. Is that it?”
+
+Gordon looked startled, but shook his head. “No, he hasn’t. I dare say,
+though, anyone could buy it pretty cheap,” he remarked carelessly.
+
+“I’m afraid I couldn’t afford it, Gordie,” Dick laughed. “You’ll have to
+find another buyer.”
+
+“I know. I was just wondering if you _could_ run an auto if you had
+one.”
+
+“Why, I suppose so. I’ve got plenty of strength in my legs when I’m
+sitting down, you know, and so far my arms are still working. But I
+don’t believe I’ll ever have a chance to try, Gordie. At least, not
+unless you get an auto and let me run it for you. How would I do as a
+chauffeur?”
+
+“I’ll bet you could run an auto to the King’s taste, Dick! You do most
+everything better than the rest of us.”
+
+“You mean I think I could! Well, I’m not stuck-up about my automobile
+driving, Gordie. That’s one thing I’m not conceited about. Going now?”
+
+“Yes, I guess I’d better run over to Morris’. I told his sister I’d look
+in pretty soon. When he can see folks, Dick, will you go over with me
+some time?”
+
+“Of course. Glad to. Let me know when you want to go.”
+
+“Really?”
+
+“Why not?”
+
+“I don’t know. I thought—you seemed sort of down on Mr. Brent and maybe
+you wouldn’t want to go to his house.”
+
+“Oh, I’m not as down on him as all that,” laughed Dick. “And, anyhow,
+his house never did anything to me.” He paused and added soberly: “For
+that matter, Gordie, I don’t want you to think that I am really sore
+against Mr. Brent. Sometimes I get sort of peeved about that affair of
+dad’s, but maybe, after all, it was more his fault than Mr. Brent’s.
+Anyway, I’ve never accused Jonathan Brent of being dishonest. I don’t
+think he is. Give my regards to Morris if you see him, and tell him I’ll
+come over and call some day if he doesn’t mind. See you to-morrow
+afternoon, Gordie. We’ve got to practice hard this week. And I’ll tell
+Jack to look up his friend in the plating works.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A VISIT TO THE INVALID
+
+
+Gordon found Morris not only able but eager to see him. Louise conducted
+him upstairs to a big square bedroom in the middle of which, between two
+bay windows, Morris’ bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table by
+the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses, and some magazines,
+books, and glasses. A rocking-chair near the table with a magazine
+spread open in it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been
+reading to the invalid.
+
+Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest little pillow under
+his head. Gordon was shocked to see how pale and drawn he looked as he
+waved a hand at the visitor’s entrance and called quite cheerfully
+across the room: “Hello, Gordon! Gee, but I’m glad to see you!”
+
+Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked Morris how he felt.
+
+“Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg’s done up in a ton of plaster, I guess,
+and it hurts a good deal. But the doctor’s tickled to death with it, and
+so I suppose I’ve got to be satisfied too. How are you? I thought you
+were never coming to see a fellow.”
+
+“I’ve been wanting to come ever since—it happened,” answered Gordon;
+“but at first they said I mustn’t see you, and then, yesterday, there
+was the game at Lesterville——”
+
+“It must have been a peach of a game, even if you fellows did get
+beaten.” Morris paused abruptly and lowered his eyes. “Say, Gordon, I
+guess you know I’m—I’m awfully grateful——”
+
+“Now, look here,” interrupted Gordon sternly, “don’t you start that too!
+I’ve had a lot of it from your mother and Louise and Mr. Brent, and if
+you begin I’ll beat it out of here!”
+
+“All right,” laughed Morris, “only—well, thanks, Gordon!” A twinge of
+pain brought a momentary scowl to his face. “I was mighty glad you
+didn’t get banged up too. It was a wonder you didn’t.”
+
+“Oh, I’m like a cat; I light on my feet. What happened, anyhow?”
+
+“I don’t know—quite. The first thing I knew the wheel spun around
+almost out of my hands and we were smashing against that fence. I
+suppose there was something in the road I didn’t see. I made a grab for
+the emergency brake and tried to set it. Then I got a leg over the side
+of the car and—and that’s all I remember. How badly is the car smashed,
+Gordon?”
+
+“The right front wheel has most of the spokes out of it, and the axle is
+bent on that side. And there are some dents in the running board and
+radiator and one lamp’s done for. I don’t believe, though, it will cost
+you much to get it fixed up again almost as good as new. I suppose
+you’ll have to get rid of it, though, won’t you?”
+
+Morris grinned. “Rather! And I’ll have to pay for it, too!”
+
+“Your father says——”
+
+“I know; but Stacey has my note for the rest of the money, and I don’t
+propose to be a squealer, Gordon. I’ll get the money somehow. If dad
+won’t give it to me, maybe my mother will. I’ll get it somewhere. I’m
+not going to have Stacey telling it around that I don’t keep my word or
+pay my debts. I wish I’d let the blamed thing alone; but I didn’t, and
+so there’s no use talking about that now.”
+
+“What—what are you going to do with it?” asked Gordon.
+
+“Get Stacey to sell it for me, I guess. I haven’t talked to dad about it
+yet. He only got home from New York yesterday. I suppose he will be mad
+when I tell him I want to pay the rest of the money.”
+
+“I ought to see him, too,” said Gordon uneasily, “and tell him what Mr.
+Stacey said. Is—is he at home to-day?”
+
+“Yes, but you’d better wait a while. He always takes a nap Sunday
+afternoons. I guess I’ll let you tell him about Stacey before I tackle
+him.”
+
+“How much would you sell the car for?” asked Gordon presently.
+
+“Anything I could get, I guess. Of course, it’s never been used but a
+week; the speedometer shows only two hundred and eighty miles, I think;
+but I suppose it’s just as much second-hand as if it had been run a
+whole year. I should think Stacey might get three hundred for it,
+though.”
+
+Gordon looked disappointed. “Oh!” he murmured. “Well, I suppose it is
+worth all of that. Only, I was thinking——”
+
+“What?” asked Morris.
+
+“It—it sounds sort of cheeky,” replied Gordon, after a moment’s
+hesitation, “and you might not think much of the idea, but what I—what
+we were considering is this, Morris.” He drew the chair closer to the
+bed, with a glance at the half-open door, and lowered his voice.
+
+An hour or so later Gordon left Brentwood well satisfied. Mr. Brent had
+only smiled at Mr. Stacey’s ultimatum, thanked Gordon for the trouble he
+had taken, and approved of the rescue and temporary disposal of the
+automobile. “We’ll let it stay where it is for the present,” he said,
+“and I’ll have a talk with Morris about it some day. If Stacey doesn’t
+want to take it back, I guess we can get the junkman to haul it away.”
+
+“I think Morris has a—a scheme, sir, that would be pretty fine,”
+returned Gordon. “That is, if—if you were willing.”
+
+“A scheme? What sort of a scheme, Merrick?”
+
+“I’d rather he told you about it, sir.”
+
+“Humph! I don’t think much of Morris’ schemes as a rule,” replied Mr.
+Brent grimly. “However, I’ll hear what he has to say.”
+
+On Tuesday placards in the shop windows made the following announcement:
+
+                               BASEBALL!
+                     Clearfield vs. Rutter’s Point,
+                           HIGH SCHOOL FIELD,
+                          Saturday at 3 P. M.
+                          Admission: 25 Cents.
+
+Also on that morning the Clearfield _Reporter_ obligingly called the
+public’s attention to the game and predicted a close and exciting
+contest. The notice in the newspaper cost the club nothing, but the
+printed announcements took just a dollar and sixty-five cents from the
+exchequer, and caused Fudge, whose portion of the expense amounted to
+eighteen and one-third cents, a deal of gloom.
+
+“Nobody’s going to pay real money to see a lot of kids play ball,” said
+Fudge. “So what’s the good of spending all that on notices? Gee, we
+could have bought a new ball with that money!”
+
+One or two others thought as Fudge did, but most of the team were
+optimistic, and Tim Turner was created ticket seller and gateman, and
+was to receive fifty cents for his services. Fudge declared that if Tim
+sold enough admissions to pay himself his wages he’d be “m-m-m-mighty
+lucky!” But as events proved Fudge was unnecessarily pessimistic.
+
+Meanwhile, on Monday, Jack Tappen had fulfilled his agreement to find a
+substitute, and Danny Shores was duly “signed up” for Saturday’s game
+with the Point. Danny, who proved to be a long and lanky youth of
+sixteen or seventeen years, showed up for practice on Wednesday and made
+a good impression in right field and at the bat. Unfortunately,
+Wednesday was the only day he could get off, and, as Jack assured Dick,
+it took a lot of wire-pulling to secure that concession from Danny’s
+boss at the plating works. However, Danny played ball more or less every
+lunch-hour behind the factory, and so was by no means out of practice.
+Jack’s demeanor was amusing that week. He tried to look chastened and
+sad, but it was easy to see that he took it as a personal compliment,
+that suspension, and was vastly proud of it. Jack appeared to reason
+that if he hadn’t been an extraordinarily valuable member of the team
+Dick would not have taken the trouble to discipline him! Jack was as
+busy as a hive of bees, and was so generous with advice that Dick and
+Gordon found him something of a nuisance.
+
+“I wish he was playing ball instead of sitting on the bench,” confided
+Gordon, in comic despair. “Next time, Dick, throw him in the river, but
+don’t suspend him. He’s as pleased as Punch with himself!”
+
+Of course, the others tried their best to have their fun with Jack, but
+the attempt was not very successful. Jack seemed to consider that a
+signal honor had been done him, and, while he professed to be chagrined
+and ashamed of his position, he was secretly well contented and was
+enjoying it all greatly. As Dick said, one could have stood that well
+enough if Jack hadn’t tried to run the team!
+
+But Jack Tappen was not the only cross that Dick had to bear just then.
+As a tutor Dick was having his troubles, too. Harold Townsend had at
+last, to use Caspar Billings’ expression, “laid down in the shafts.” Not
+only that, but he was “kicking over the traces” as well. Dick was pretty
+nearly at his wits’ end. The pupil’s first slight awe of his teacher had
+soon worn off, and now he was frankly mutinous. He no longer made
+pretense of studying the lessons Dick laid out for him, only grinned
+exasperatingly when taken to task, and, in short, openly defied
+authority. Dick worried for two reasons: In the first place, he disliked
+to be beaten. In the second place, he felt that he had no right to take
+money from Harold’s mother when he was not earning it. And he wanted the
+money and needed it. Harold apparently realized that any appeal to his
+mother by Dick would be useless. And Dick was pretty certain of as much
+himself. Nevertheless, on Thursday of that week he decided that the time
+had come for an understanding. Loring, Harold’s older brother, had
+threatened all sorts of dire punishment if that youth didn’t behave, but
+the threats had not impressed Harold much. Perhaps he knew that Loring
+wouldn’t carry them out. On Thursday the lesson had been the merest
+farce, and Harold’s behavior had for once almost caused Dick to lose
+command of a usually well-governed temper. At last:
+
+“I shall have to talk to your mother, Harold,” he said. “This kind of
+thing can’t go on. You’re wasting your time and mine——”
+
+“Aw, you get paid, don’t you?” asked Harold, with a scowl.
+
+“I get paid for teaching, not for loafing,” responded Dick sharply. “I
+shall want to see you when I come back. So don’t go off, please.”
+
+“I shall if I want to. You don’t own me, Lovering. Besides, study time’s
+up, anyway.”
+
+Dick, disdaining to answer, set off to find Mrs. Townsend. The
+conference took place on a corner of the hotel veranda. Mrs. Townsend
+was a sweet-voiced, pretty woman, with a tired air. At first she seemed
+to resent Dick’s charge against her boy. Then she grew pathetic, and
+bewailed the fact of her husband’s death.
+
+“If he had lived,” she sighed, “Harold would have been a different boy.
+I’ve never been able to do anything with him. He needs a stronger hand,
+I fear. Perhaps—that is, possibly—er—it would have been better to
+have found someone—someone a little older to take him in hand. Of
+course, I don’t mean to suggest that you haven’t done excellently, Mr.
+Lovering, for I’m quite sure you have; but, of course, as you are so
+little older than Harold, he may feel—er—you see what I mean, don’t
+you?”
+
+“Yes’m, but I don’t think that’s the trouble. Harold doesn’t want to
+study, doesn’t seem to see the necessity of learning and won’t. If I had
+full authority over him——”
+
+“Oh, but you have! I thought that was understood.”
+
+“Oh, for two hours, perhaps, Mrs. Townsend; but what I mean is that if
+I—well, if you’d just back me up, I’m sure I could accomplish
+something.”
+
+“Please explain. I don’t think I understand.”
+
+“Why, it’s like this,” replied Dick desperately: “He knows now that if
+he doesn’t want to learn his lessons he doesn’t have to. So he doesn’t
+do any work. If—if you’d make him understand that he _does_ have to,
+Mrs. Townsend, that if he doesn’t he will be—punished——”
+
+“Oh, but I’ve never punished Harold!” she protested. “I don’t believe in
+punishment; that is, other than verbal. A high-spirited boy such as he
+is—er——”
+
+“Yes’m, I know, but you want him to go to Rifle Point, and he will never
+get there if he doesn’t take some interest in his lessons and do some
+work. See here, please.” Dick had provided himself with a Rifle Point
+School catalogue, and now he went over for Mrs. Townsend’s benefit the
+list of studies required for entrance. Mrs. Townsend listened with a
+puzzled, tired frown on her pretty forehead.
+
+“And you think he isn’t far enough advanced, Mr. Lovering, to enter this
+Fall?”
+
+“He isn’t advanced at all!” blurted Dick. “What he has learned he has
+forgotten. He—he’s two years behind those requirements, Mrs. Townsend.”
+
+“Dear me! And I had hoped——” She sighed tremulously. “What do you
+advise?”
+
+“I advise you to make Harold understand that he’s got to do what I tell
+him to, and that if he doesn’t he will be punished.”
+
+“But I never could punish him!”
+
+“No’m, I’m sure of that,” agreed Dick. “You let me do it.”
+
+“You?” she faltered. “Could you—that is——”
+
+“I don’t mean whip him, Mrs. Townsend, or anything like that. I’ll find
+a way that will answer quite as well.”
+
+“Could you really? But how?”
+
+“I don’t know just yet,” Dick owned. “But I’ll find a way. Really, Mrs.
+Townsend, you’ll have to do something of that sort. Harold’s just
+wasting his time and mine. And I can’t take your money when I’m not
+earning it.”
+
+“Oh, but I’m sure you are! Even if—if Harold doesn’t get on very fast,
+it is a great relief to me to know that for two hours a day at least he
+is in good care and not—not running around with those horrid bell-boys.
+I’m sure that’s worth every penny of the money!”
+
+“Not to me, ma’am. I mean I wouldn’t be satisfied to go on with things
+as they are now. I wish you’d try my way, Mrs. Townsend. All I’d want
+you to do would be just to tell Harold that he is to do absolutely as I
+tell him to, and that there is no use in his appealing to you.”
+
+“We—ell, if you’re quite certain it won’t break his spirit or—or
+anything like that,” agreed Mrs. Townsend doubtfully. “I do want him to
+get on, Mr. Lovering. If only he had half the studiousness that Loring
+has!”
+
+“He can study very well when he wants to,” replied Dick dryly. “And I’m
+pretty sure I can make him want to if you will just stand back of me,
+Mrs. Townsend.”
+
+“I will, really and truly,” she said. “Thank you so much, Mr. Lovering.
+I—I’ll speak to Harold this evening, and——”
+
+“Couldn’t you speak to him now just as well, please?”
+
+“Now? Why, I suppose so. If you wish. Perhaps I’d better, and get it
+over with.” Mrs. Townsend sighed deeply. “Will you send him to me, Mr.
+Lovering?”
+
+“Yes’m, if I can find him,” answered Dick. “I’m afraid, though, he’s
+gone off somewhere. I’ll look him up, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you very much
+for—for helping me.”
+
+Harold was not in his room where Dick had left him, and inquiry around
+the corridor of the hotel at first failed to elicit any information.
+Ultimately, however, Dick found a boy who had seen Harold walking down
+the beach about a half hour before and Dick set off in the indicated
+direction toward the distant point of rocks that jutted out into the
+sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE ROCKS
+
+
+It was hard going for Dick, for his crutches sank into the sand nearly
+to the depth of their rubber tips, but he persevered, and after some ten
+minutes of “crutching” arrived at the end of the beach where the point
+of rock from which the place received its name advanced from the grassy
+bluff and waded far into the breakers. Harold was not in sight when Dick
+reached the bottom of the ledge; but a few moments later when by careful
+climbing Dick had reached the seaward end of the rock, he came into
+view. The receding tide had left a long and narrow pool in a cleft of
+the ledge, a pool whose sides were festooned with delicate seaweed and
+set with purple mussels and green and brown snails and in whose bottom
+pink starfish crawled. Harold, perched at the edge of the pool, was
+looking fascinatingly into the clear green depths and didn’t hear the
+soft tap of Dick’s crutches until the older boy was almost beside him.
+Then he turned startledly, narrowly escaping a bath in the pool, and
+scowled at the intruder.
+
+“Had to hunt for me, anyway, didn’t you?” he asked sneeringly.
+
+Dick paid the question no heed. Instead, he moved to the edge of the
+pool and peered interestedly into it. He didn’t have to feign interest,
+he was interested. It seemed a long time to Dick since he had crouched,
+as Harold was crouched now, and gazed fascinatingly at the wonders of a
+rock pool. Nor had he done it very frequently, for climbing over the
+ledges is hard and risky work for a boy without two good legs. Harold
+continued to frown at a wavering starfish in the depths, but presently,
+as Dick did not speak, he shot a curious glance at him.
+
+“Gee,” he said to himself, “you’d think he’d never seen starfish and
+things before!”
+
+Dick took off his hat and wiped his moist forehead. Then he lowered
+himself cautiously to a seat on the rock. “Regular natural aquarium,
+isn’t it?” he asked pleasantly. Harold’s reply was an unintelligible
+growl. “Lots of queer things in there,” went on Dick musingly.
+
+“Sure; I just saw a whale,” replied Harold sarcastically.
+
+“Did you? Your eyes must be pretty good,” returned Dick, with a smile.
+“I dare say, though, I see something you don’t.”
+
+Harold viewed him suspiciously. Finally: “What?” he asked.
+
+“A sea-anemone.”
+
+“A sea-what?”
+
+“Sea-anemone.” Dick laughed. “I sea-anemone; what do you see?”
+
+“That’s a punk joke!” scoffed Harold.
+
+“I’m not joking. I’ll point him out to you. Lean over this way. See that
+purplish-brown thing on the side near the bottom? Looks like a flower,
+sort of. See?”
+
+“Sure! Is that it? It isn’t a flower, though; it moves, don’t it?”
+Harold was interested in spite of himself.
+
+“Yes, it moves, and it isn’t a flower. It’s a polyp. It’s name is
+Metridium something or other; I forget the rest of it.”
+
+“What’s a polyp? An animal?”
+
+“Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge is.”
+
+“Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!” derided the other.
+
+“Not exactly. Those things that move are little tentacles with which it
+feeds itself,” said Dick, pointing again at the anemone.
+
+“What’s it eat?” asked Harold curiously.
+
+“All sorts of animal matter that floats around in the water and that is
+so small we can’t see it.”
+
+Harold observed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe it’s alive at all,”
+he said presently. “It’s just a sort of seaweed, and it moves because
+the water moves.”
+
+“Think so?” asked Dick. “Then put your hand down there toward it and see
+what happens.”
+
+“It won’t—bite, will it?” asked Harold doubtfully.
+
+“No, but it will show you whether it’s alive or not. You needn’t touch
+it,” he added, noting the other’s hesitancy. “Just put your hand near it
+or disturb the water.”
+
+Harold pulled his sleeve up and cautiously thrust an arm into the pool.
+“Gee!” he exclaimed. “It shut its mouth!”
+
+Dick laughed. “Doesn’t look much like it did, does it?”
+
+“No; it’s an ugly little thing now,” responded the other. “Say, that’s
+funny, isn’t it? Guess it’s alive, all right.”
+
+“Yes; and it knows three things pretty well: It knows how to attach
+itself to the rocks, how to get food, and how to shut up shop when
+trouble brews.”
+
+“What would it do if you took it out?”
+
+“Die. Besides, it’s stuck on there so hard you’d have to pull it to
+pieces to get it off. I tried it once when I was a kid, and had to give
+it up.”
+
+“I’d like to find a sea-urchin,” said Harold. “I’ve got a lot of
+starfish and a horse-shoe crab and some razor-clam shells and two shark
+eggs. I guess I’ll get that big starfish down there, too.”
+
+“What’s the use?” asked Dick. “It’s just like those you’ve got. Let the
+old chap live and enjoy himself.”
+
+“I’ll get it if I want to,” replied Harold. “Say, what did you follow me
+out here for, anyway?”
+
+“Because I told your mother I’d find you and send you to her. She’s got
+something to say to you.”
+
+“Sure! I suppose you went and told her a lot of lies about me.”
+
+“You don’t suppose anything of the sort,” responded Dick quietly.
+
+“Well, anyway, I’m not afraid of her.”
+
+“Of course not, but you want to do what she wishes, don’t you?”
+
+“That’s my business,” replied the other ungraciously. “I do as I
+please.”
+
+“Well, you’re a lucky chap, then,” said Dick pleasantly. “By the way,
+are you going to see the ball game Saturday?”
+
+“Yes, I guess so. That is”—with elaborate concern—“unless you don’t
+want me to.”
+
+“I was going to say that if you’ll ask for me at the gate I’ll pass you
+in, Harold.”
+
+“Why, are they going to charge?”
+
+“Yes; twenty-five cents.”
+
+“Gee, they’ve got a crust! Who’d pay twenty-five cents to see a lot of
+wooden-heads play ball?”
+
+“Well, we’re hoping a lot will. Anyway, you won’t have to. Just ask for
+me at the gate. I guess it will be a pretty good game. Do you like
+baseball?”
+
+“I suppose so.”
+
+“Do you play?”
+
+“Sure! What do you think I am—a wooden Indian?”
+
+“That’s good. They have a pretty good team at Rifle Point. Maybe you’ll
+make it some day.”
+
+“There isn’t any maybe about it. I’m going to.”
+
+“I hope so. Well, I must be getting back. You coming along? It must be
+very nearly lunch time.”
+
+“No, I’m not,” growled Harold. “I’ll come when I’m ready.”
+
+“All right. By the way, we won’t have any lessons to-morrow. Nothing
+doing until Monday. Meanwhile you see if you can’t get the better of
+that algebra, like a good fellow. So-long!”
+
+“Long!” muttered Harold.
+
+Dick pulled himself up and fixed his crutches and began the laborious
+task of climbing back up the rock and across to the beach. Fortunately
+his rubber tips held well, and he was soon at the top of the ledge. But
+there misfortune overtook him. Just what happened he couldn’t have told,
+but the result he was very certain about. For one crutch flew out from
+under him, he spun half around on the other and fell backward, his head
+coming into violent contact with the granite ledge. For an instant he
+was too dazed to move. His head rang and buzzed like a bee-hive. In
+falling he must have cried out involuntarily, for almost before he had
+gathered his faculties together and made a move to get up he heard
+footsteps pattering on the rocks, and then the anxious voice of Harold
+Townsend:
+
+“Are you hurt, Lovering? What happened?”
+
+Harold ran to him, and bent over him with very genuine concern.
+
+“I—I’m all right, thanks,” replied Dick, a trifle vaguely. “I fell.
+That rock is some hard, Harold!” He rubbed his head ruefully and
+grimaced as his hand came in contact with the swelling bruise. “Just
+give me a hand, will you? And kick that crutch this way, please.”
+
+“Here’s your crutch,” said Harold, “but just you wait where you are a
+minute.” He sped away down the slope of the rock, and Dick, with his
+head throbbing, for once could not but feel a qualm of envy. In a moment
+the younger boy was back. He had dipped his handkerchief in the water,
+and now he offered it a trifle shyly to Dick. “Put it on your head,” he
+said gruffly. “It’ll make it feel better.”
+
+“Thanks, Harold.” Dick applied the wet compress to the bump. “It was
+stupid of me to keel over like that,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ve
+fallen down before.”
+
+“I should think you’d have lots of falls,” replied Harold. “I think you
+get around mighty well, Lovering. How does it feel now?”
+
+“Better, thanks. Just sort of give me a boost, will you?”
+
+Harold assisting, Dick got to his feet, or, rather, his crutches, and,
+with the younger boy watching anxiously, went on down the ledge to the
+beach.
+
+“You needn’t come unless you’re ready to,” said Dick. “I’ll be all right
+now, Harold.”
+
+“I guess I’ll go, too,” replied Harold carelessly. “It’s most lunch
+time.”
+
+They walked along in silence for a way, and then Dick asked: “Do you
+know who Caspar Billings has got to take Morris Brent’s place on
+Saturday?”
+
+“Fellow named Jensen. Do you know him?”
+
+“No, I think not. Pretty good, is he?”
+
+“I guess so. Loring says he is. Say, Mason’s going to pitch for us. Did
+you know that?”
+
+“Mason? Oh, he is the fellow who was to have played in the last game and
+didn’t get here. Is he a wonder, Harold?”
+
+“Is he!” Harold chuckled. “You just wait and see. You fellows won’t be
+able to touch him!”
+
+“As good as that, eh? By the way, who scores for your team?”
+
+“I don’t know.” Harold shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody, I guess. Why?”
+
+“I should think you’d like to do it.”
+
+Harold considered. “I guess,” he answered finally, “I don’t know how
+well enough.”
+
+“I can show you. You bring a book Saturday and sit by me, and I’ll make
+a professional scorer of you in no time.”
+
+“Too much trouble,” replied the other indifferently.
+
+“It isn’t trouble at all, Harold; it’s fun. Better try it some time.
+It’s a good thing to know.”
+
+Presently Harold asked: “Why aren’t you coming to-morrow?”
+
+“Because we haven’t been getting on very well, Harold. I thought it
+might be a good idea for us to stop for a couple of days and think it
+over; see whether we want to go on with it or not, you know. If we
+decide that we do, we’ll start all over again Monday and do the thing
+right.”
+
+“Humph!” muttered Harold. “What did you tell my mother?”
+
+“Oh, just that I wasn’t willing to go on and take her money without
+accomplishing something,” replied Dick cheerfully. “I told her you could
+study as well as your brother if you wanted to——”
+
+“She’s always beefing about Loring!” grumbled the boy.
+
+“And that if you didn’t want to there wasn’t much use in my coming.
+Well, I’ll cut through here for the car. I’ll see you Monday, Harold.”
+
+“What about Saturday?” asked the other. “You said——”
+
+“Of course! Look me up, and bring your score-book.”
+
+“Haven’t any.”
+
+“You can get one at Wadsworth’s, on Common Street. Or I’ll buy one for
+you, if you like.”
+
+“You needn’t. It’s too much like work. So-long!”
+
+Dick returned to Clearfield more encouraged. If only Mrs. Townsend would
+do as she had agreed to, he believed that he could manage Harold and
+earn the money that was being paid him. He had about given up hope of
+finding more pupils, and so could ill afford to lose Harold. He
+certainly didn’t want to, he reflected, but he would in an instant
+rather than make no better progress than he had been making.
+
+At practice that afternoon, Gordon told him that Morris had asked to see
+him, and Dick agreed to call at the Brents’ for a few minutes before
+supper. Morris was pathetically glad to see the two boys and very loath
+to have them go again. Mrs. Brent looked in for a short time and Louise
+met them on their way out and thanked them for coming. She looked rather
+tired, and Gordon spoke of it.
+
+“It’s been so hot to-day,” she explained, “and I’ve been indoors a good
+deal since Morris was hurt. He can’t read to himself yet, and so I have
+to do it for him. Of course, I’m very glad to, but it is hard work in a
+way. I wonder if either of you have any books he’d like. I’ve read about
+everything I can find.”
+
+“I think I have,” responded Dick. “I’ll bring two or three over. I guess
+what Morris wants is a rattling good adventure story.”
+
+“Yes; he’s crazy to hear stories about ships and pirates and hidden
+treasure, you know. About the only other thing he cares about is the
+baseball news. I read that to him every morning, and I’m getting to be
+quite—quite learned.”
+
+“I suppose,” said Dick, “the doctor won’t let you move him out to the
+Point yet.”
+
+“He says we can go in about another two weeks. I think it will be much
+better for Morris. He’s getting fearfully tired of that room up there.
+And it is hot, you know. Thank you both for coming, and do come again
+when you can. I guess it isn’t much fun for you, but Morris looks
+forward to it all day.”
+
+“She’s a nice girl,” commented Dick, as they passed through the gate.
+“Pretty, too.”
+
+“She _is_ nice,” agreed Gordon. “I guess when a fellow’s laid up like
+that a sister’s a pretty good thing to have around.”
+
+“Yes,” said Dick. And, after a moment, he added: “I’ll find those books
+and take them around to-morrow morning.”
+
+“I would,” approved the other. “You’re certain to find her in then.”
+
+“Don’t be a chump, Gordie! She’s only a kid!”
+
+“She’s as old as I am, except for a few months. And if you call me a kid
+I’ll lick you.”
+
+“If you do, I’ll suspend you,” replied Dick sternly.
+
+Gordon laughed. “I hope I’d get as much fun out of it as Jack is
+getting,” he said. “He confided to me to-day that you were a fine
+manager. ‘I tell you, Gordon,’ he said, ‘a manager’s got to have plenty
+of discipline!’ If you could only fire Jack for good and all, he’d love
+you like a brother, Dick!”
+
+“I sort of wish we were going to have him in the game Saturday,” said
+Dick. “We’ll miss his batting, I guess.”
+
+“I wonder if this fellow Mason is as good as they seem to think him.
+Anyone know where he comes from?”
+
+“I didn’t ask. He’s probably better than Porter, though. I have a
+feeling that we’re due to get the short end of the score day after
+to-morrow.”
+
+“I wouldn’t be surprised. I hope to goodness Harry can play. If he is
+out of it, we will be in a mess!”
+
+“How is Tom getting on with his shingling or painting or whatever it is
+he’s doing?”
+
+“I don’t know. Why?”
+
+“Well, it would be a good thing if he could come out and practice a
+little more. It’s too bad we can’t find another fellow to help out with
+the pitching, Gordie. If Tom got sick we’d be in a fix.”
+
+“We surely would! But I don’t believe Tom was ever sick in his life.
+Anyway, he was pretty fit to-day. I caught him for a few minutes, and he
+had everything there is.”
+
+Dick smiled. “Tom has just three balls, Gordie: an out, a pretty good
+drop, and a fast one that’s a peach. That’s all he needs, though. If he
+mixes them up right he can get by. But we’ve got to find our batting eye
+Saturday if we’re to win. How about the line-up? Think we’d better
+change it?”
+
+“Yes, I do. This fellow Shores had better follow Lanny, don’t you think?
+He seems to think he can bat, but he didn’t connect with much
+yesterday.”
+
+“Maybe he was embarrassed,” suggested Dick, with a smile.
+
+“Embarrassed!” said Gordon. “Yes, about as much embarrassed as a
+bull-pup! Maybe he will do better in a game, though. Well, so-long,
+Dick. I’ll have to hustle or I’ll be late for supper.”
+
+“Coming around to-night?”
+
+“I don’t believe so. I told Lanny I’d go over there. See you to-morrow,
+though.”
+
+“Come over in the morning, will you? I’m not going out to the Point
+to-morrow.”
+
+“You’re not? You haven’t quit, have you?”
+
+“No, not yet. I’m giving Harold a day or two to think over his sins.
+Good-night.”
+
+“I say, Dick, don’t forget your call.”
+
+“What call?” asked Dick, from the end of the hedge.
+
+“Why, on Miss Brent!”
+
+“You’ll sit on the bench if you’re not careful,” laughed Dick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DICK SCORES A DEFEAT
+
+
+“Well, what do you know about that!” ejaculated Fudge awedly. He and
+Lanny were approaching the athletic field at a little after two on
+Saturday. Ahead of them, as they turned the corner, was a group of some
+fifty or sixty persons, mostly boys and young men, and they were quite
+evidently waiting for the gate to open.
+
+“And it isn’t half-past two yet,” said Lanny. “Looks as if we were going
+to have an audience, after all, Fudge.”
+
+“Bet you they don’t know they have to pay a quarter,” responded the
+other pessimistically.
+
+“Then they’re blind, because there’s a notice right beside the gate
+there.”
+
+“Someone ought to find Tim and get him here,” said Fudge anxiously.
+“They might change their minds and go away again!”
+
+“What time is he supposed to get here?”
+
+“I don’t know. Half-past, I suppose.” They passed through a smaller gate
+which led to the dressing-room and found Dick and Gordon already on
+hand. Fudge told his fears to Dick, and Dick reassured him by agreeing
+to take the gate himself until young Mr. Turner appeared. Five minutes
+later the first two or three rows of the grandstand were occupied, and
+spectators were still dribbling through the gate and depositing quarters
+in Dick’s hand. Tim Turner arrived breathless soon after and relieved
+Dick. Some thirty Rutter’s Point residents accompanied their team and
+still further swelled the audience, and by three o’clock Dick estimated
+that fully a hundred and sixty persons had paid admission. That was much
+better than anyone had dared hope, and Lanny, making a lightning
+calculation, confided to Gordon that there’d be thirty dollars coming to
+the club after Rutter’s Point had received the twenty-five per cent.
+agreed on.
+
+“If we can do that often enough,” said Lanny delightedly, “we’ll have
+more than enough for——”
+
+“S-sh!” cautioned Gordon.
+
+“He’s over there talking to Billings. Who is the kid with him?”
+
+“That’s young Townsend, the fellow he’s coaching. It’s about time to
+start, isn’t it? There come three more, Lanny.”
+
+“Every little quarter helps,” replied Lanny. “I hope Tim Turner doesn’t
+abscond with the cash! Someone ought to stand over him with a bat! Oh,
+Fudge!”
+
+“What’s wanted?” asked Fudge, joining them.
+
+“We wanted to tell you that if Tim runs off with the money you will have
+to make good.”
+
+Fudge grinned. “He’s awfully excited,” he said. “He’s got both pockets
+full of silver, and sounds like a treasury when he moves. He’s terribly
+worried because he gave one fellow too much change. He says he knows
+him, though, and is going to get it back!”
+
+“Come on,” said Gordon. “On the run, fellows. You’re in right field,
+Shores. Throw out another ball, Jack, will you? Here you are, Harry!”
+
+A minute later Captain Billings faced Tom Haley, and the game began.
+
+The batting list of the visiting team had been changed in two instances,
+Jensen replacing Morris Brent in left field, and Mason pitching instead
+of Porter. Melville, or “Mel,” Mason was a big youth of eighteen at
+least, with a quiet, self-constrained manner that impressed Dick and
+filled him with forebodings of defeat. Clearfield was minus the services
+of Jack Tappen, Mr. Daniel Shores making his first appearance in a
+purple uniform and holding down Jack’s place in right field. The umpire
+was Mr. Cochran, physical director at the Young Men’s Christian
+Association, and a great favorite among the boys.
+
+Rutter’s Point failed to do anything in the first inning. Tom Haley
+allowed only one player to reach first, and he got no farther. When
+Clearfield came to the bat, with Harry Bryan up, the audience proved its
+loyalty to the home team by loud and prolonged cheering. It was very
+soon evidenced that “Mel” Mason was in a different class from Bede
+Porter as a pitcher. Who he was or where he came from neither Dick nor
+Gordon had learned; but, to use Fudge’s admiring and slightly resentful
+expression, he was “some pitchist!” He had plenty of speed when he cared
+to use it, but his favorite offering was a slow ball that was probably
+patterned on the “floater” of a famous league pitcher. The Clearfield
+batters hit under it or over it with discouraging regularity, and Harry,
+Will, and Gordon went out in order in the last of the first inning, only
+Will managing to hit into fair territory. Harry and Gordon fanned.
+
+For three innings the contest was a pitchers’ battle. Tom was in
+excellent shape, and, although he secured fewer strike-outs than his
+rival, managed to hold his own with the assistance of sharp fielding by
+his team-mates. If there were those among the spectators who had come to
+scoff at the kind of ball they were to see they must have been
+surprised, for both teams played a practically errorless game until the
+beginning of the fourth. And even after that, if there were frequent
+miscues, there was enough excitement and suspense to make up for them.
+
+It was Jensen, the chap who had taken Morris’ place, who started things
+going in the fourth. Loring Townsend had flied out to Pete Robey, making
+the first out. With two strikes and one ball on him, Jensen reached for
+an out-shoot, found it on the end of his bat, and deposited it neatly
+behind Gordon and close to the foul-line. Chase, the Point shortstop,
+tried twice to bunt, and then hit sharply past Pete, and Jensen went to
+third. House was over-anxious and went out on strikes, and Chase got to
+second. Then Leary waited and got his base. With the bags all occupied
+and two men down, it was up to “Pink” Northrop to come to the rescue
+with a hit. The Point coachers were jumping and shouting like mad, and
+Tom might have been excused for some unsteadiness at that juncture. But
+Tom settled down, followed Lanny’s signals closely, and at last, after
+working two strikes over on Northrop, caused that youth to hit weakly to
+third. Will Scott almost overthrew the base in his eagerness, but Gordon
+pulled the ball down in time and the crisis was over.
+
+Gordon went out, shortstop to first; Way lifted a high one to second
+baseman, and Pete Robey faced Mason with little expectation of faring
+any better. But Mason let up for a minute, probably arguing that with
+two gone he could afford to take things easy, and Pete shot a hot liner
+at third baseman. Caspar Billings got his hands on it, but it trickled
+past him, and Pete was safe. That doubtful error—Dick charitably scored
+it as a hit—seemed the signal for the Point to go up in the air. Mason
+whipped a quick throw to first which would have caught Pete flat-footed
+off the bag had Loring Townsend been ready for it. He wasn’t, however,
+and the ball went past him to the fence, and Pete, finding his feet
+quickly, shot to second and then on to third, beating out the throw by a
+fraction of an inch and causing dissatisfaction among the Pointers over
+Mr. Cochran’s decision. Lanny, impatiently waiting at the plate, swung
+twice in his eagerness to score the runner, and then waited while Mason
+teased him with wide ones. With two strikes and two balls against him,
+Lanny out-guessed the pitcher, and swung against the next one. Shortstop
+knocked it down but couldn’t find it again in time to throw either to
+the plate or to first, and Clearfield, amidst the excited whooping of
+the audience, scored her first tally.
+
+Lanny went down to second on the first pitch, and, although Houghton
+threw quickly and well to that bag, Lanny beat him by a yard. Danny
+Shores, who was at bat, had swung and was one strike to the bad when
+Mason grimly turned his attention to him again. Quite a few of Danny’s
+friends from the factory were on hand to see him perform, and when,
+after the third delivery, he caught the ball squarely on the nose and
+sent it streaking just over second baseman’s head, they shouted
+themselves hoarse in Danny’s honor. On the bench, Jack Tappen looked a
+bit glum. He had visions of being displaced by Mr. Shores. Lanny came in
+without hurrying much, and Danny reposed on first. Fudge tried to do his
+share of a hit-and-run play, but he swung far wide of the deceptive
+drop, and Danny was caught at second and the inning was over, with
+Clearfield two runs to the good.
+
+Enthusiasm reigned among the spectators on the stand, and they “rooted”
+valiantly for Clearfield throughout the rest of the game. In the fifth
+the Point got two men on bases, and was in good position to score, there
+being but one out, when Pete Robey pulled down a liner that had been
+distinctly labeled “two bases,” raced to second ahead of the runner, and
+then completed the double by making a fine throw to Gordon. Mason struck
+out Tom easily in the last of the fifth, passed Harry Bryan, fanned Will
+Scott, and then, with Gordon at bat, caught Harry off first.
+
+Every play was loudly applauded, and the audience was by this time
+perched on the edges of the seats. Again in their half of the sixth
+Rutter’s Point found Tom for two hits, and again sharp fielding kept her
+from crossing the plate. It was evident, though, that Tom was less of a
+puzzle now than in the earlier innings, and it seemed only a matter of
+time when the Pointers would bunch their hits and Dick would have to
+credit them with a run or two. You are not to suppose that Dick was
+doing nothing but keeping the score. He was managing that game from the
+bench as scientifically as if he had played the game all his short life.
+Every batsman got his orders from Dick before he stepped to the plate,
+and every coacher was instructed before he went to the box. And, besides
+that, Dick was teaching Harold Townsend how to score a ball game. In
+spite of his indifference two days before, Harold had appeared with a
+brand-new, black-covered score-book and a fountain pen. Dick had told
+him to put the pen in his pocket, and had supplied him with a pencil
+instead. Harold seated himself by Dick and watched and learned. He made
+more mistakes than enough, and his score when finished was a veritable
+hodge-podge of misinformation, but he seemed to get a lot of excitement
+and fun out of it, and he really did learn a good deal for a boy who had
+theretofore scored an out by placing a huge X opposite the batsman and a
+run by marking up an equally enormous I. When he began to memorize the
+symbols for struck out, base on balls, hit by pitched ball, and so on,
+he discovered that scoring was not the simple task he had thought it.
+About the sixth inning he gave up trying to keep a detailed score, and
+contented himself with disposing of the batsmen with his X’s and I’s.
+But by that time the excitement had grown so intense that it would have
+required a person with a much cooler head than Harold’s to keep his mind
+on scoring.
+
+Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination to add
+another brace of runs to her score and place the game safely away. Dick
+realized that Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors would
+find him for some real hits, and before that occurred he wanted
+Clearfield to have a sufficient lead to place her out of danger. Gordon
+had his instructions to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was a
+clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either Pete or Lanny was
+to supply the hit to score Gordon. But plans don’t always carry through.
+Dick’s didn’t on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason’s hands,
+and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to first for the out. Way
+bunted down the first-base line, and managed to beat out the throw. Pete
+flied to center field, and Way was held on first. With two down the
+inning should have been as good as over, but Fate took a hand and
+prolonged it until the bases were filled, and Dick, watching intently
+from the bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do the
+impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose, forcing Way to second.
+Then Danny Shores had come through with a mild wallop down third-base
+line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the side, but his wits
+must have been wool-gathering, for, after gathering in the ball on the
+bound five feet away from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing
+past him hardly out of arm’s length, but hurled the ball across to
+first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was too surprised to realize what was
+required of him. At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and
+Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out, had to reverse his
+decision.
+
+And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his favorite bat and manfully
+stalked to the plate, resolved to do or die. Fudge was right in the
+midst of a baseball romance at that time, and only the night before,
+writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in bed, he had
+described how his hero, despised and ridiculed by his school-mates, had
+gone to the bat in the last of the ninth and, even while the crowds
+turned disappointedly away from the field, had out-guessed the marvelous
+pitcher of the rival school and with one mighty stroke of his faithful
+bat had turned defeat into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring
+the men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his bat and faced
+Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant and undismayed. He wondered
+whether things ever happened in real life as they did in stories.
+Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly improbable
+to-day. Fudge determined to tone it down a little that evening. A
+two-bagger would answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly
+sound more plausible.
+
+Dick’s voice from the bench reached him as Mason, after glancing over
+the bases, wound up. “Make him pitch to you, Fudge! It only takes one!”
+Back and forth from behind first and third the cries of Harry Bryan and
+Gordon rattled. Fudge gripped his bat tighter yet and glued his eyes to
+the upraised hands of Mel Mason. Then the ball, a particularly dirty
+one, streaked toward him; Fudge’s heart beat loudly and he stepped
+nimbly out of the way, only to hear the fell verdict: “Strike!”
+
+Fudge looked reproachfully at Mr. Cochran, sighed, and again faced the
+pitcher. That ball had come well across the inner corner of the plate,
+and Fudge determined that Mason shouldn’t fool him a second time with
+that particular kind of a delivery. So when the next ball shot forward
+apparently coming the same way Fudge held his ground scornfully and
+prepared to swing his bat. But the next instant he had forgotten all
+about swinging and was sitting on the ground with both hands clasped to
+his ribs and an expression of pained surprise on his face. When he had
+regained his breath and the use of his legs, Fudge thought that the joy
+of his team-mates was very ill-considered. It seemed nothing to them
+that he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of an infuriated
+baseball; they only shouted and jumped about because a run had been
+forced in!
+
+Fudge walked painfully to first, reflecting how differently his hero
+would have performed. There was something distinctly humiliating to
+Fudge in gaining his base in such a manner, and so deeply did he feel
+the humiliation that he quite forgot to heed the warnings of Gordon,
+coaching behind the base, and was surprised to have Loring Townsend,
+without any provocation, punch him forcibly in exactly the spot that
+Mason’s in-shoot had collided with. That was too much for Fudge. The
+pain brought tears to his eyes and wrath to his heart. He sprang upon
+the first baseman with clenched fists, and only Gordon’s prompt
+interference prevented trouble. Gordon haled Fudge away, patiently
+explaining that Loring had tagged him with the ball while he had been
+apparently fast asleep a yard off the base. The explanation, however,
+was not entirely satisfactory to Fudge.
+
+“What of it? He didn’t have to punch me in the ribs as hard as he knew
+how, did he?” demanded Fudge angrily. “What kind of a way is that to
+play ball?”
+
+“Shut up, Fudge!” said Gordon exasperatedly. “Why the dickens weren’t
+you watching the pitcher? What’s the good of getting hit if you get put
+out the next minute?”
+
+“Good of it!” exclaimed Fudge. “Good of it! There isn’t any good of it!
+I just wish he’d lammed you in the ribs the way he did me! Good of it!”
+And Fudge, still muttering, wandered disgustedly out to center field,
+one hand pressed to his side.
+
+The seventh inning passed uneventfully. Tom had small difficulty with
+the last three men on the Point batting-list, and Mason disposed of Tom
+Haley and Harry Bryan with five balls apiece, and caused Will Scott to
+pop up a foul to first baseman. So the eighth inning started and Dick
+began to breathe easier, and the Clearfield sympathizers were jubilant.
+After all, three runs was a good lead, and even if the Point got to
+batting Tom in the next two innings, surely Clearfield could stop them
+short of three tallies. Thus argued Dick, and said as much to Harold,
+who, to-day, at least, was divided in his sympathies. Harold, having
+predicted great things of Mason, was a bit disgruntled with that youth,
+and expressed the wish once that Clearfield would wallop him out of the
+box. But when Dick voiced his belief that the game was pretty safe
+Harold took exception.
+
+“You wait,” he said darkly. “Here comes Loring up. He hasn’t done
+anything yet, and he’s just bound to. And if he gets on Gil Chase will
+send him home. You wait!”
+
+Loring Townsend let two balls go by, failed to size up the third
+delivery as a strike, and swung unsuccessfully at the next. With the
+score two and two, Tom sped a straight one over and Loring met it with
+his bat and set out for first. He didn’t run very fast, though, for the
+hit was a weak one and was bounding straight at Will Scott at third. But
+Will made a mess of that play. He got the ball, dropped it, found it
+again and threw hurriedly across the diamond. Gordon leaped into the
+air, just managed to tip the ball with his fingers, and then dashed off
+on a chase for it as it rolled toward the fence. When the shouting had
+died away, Loring was on second, Al Jensen was swinging his bat eagerly
+and impatiently, and Harold had dropped his score-book between his feet
+and didn’t know it!
+
+That was a disastrous inning for Clearfield. Tom managed to strike out
+Jensen after that player had knocked six fouls into various parts of the
+field, and managed, too, to hold Loring on second. But when Gil Chase
+got the signal from first and trickled the ball into the pitcher’s box
+while Loring sped to third, Tom, with plenty of time to make the out at
+first, tossed the ball six feet over Gordon’s head and Loring slid home
+with the first run for the Point, while Chase got to second.
+
+Then Tom had his troubles. His misplay had taken his nerve, and for a
+while he went thoroughly to pieces. Eight batsmen faced him in that
+inning, and four hits, for a total of six bases, and five runs were made
+off him before he finally managed to strike out Mason. When that inning
+was over the game had a different complexion. Instead of being three
+runs ahead, with the prospect of winning a shut-out, Clearfield was two
+tallies behind, and defeat stared her in the face.
+
+The home team returned determinedly to the fray, but Mason was
+impregnable. In the last of the eighth not a man saw first and only four
+players faced him. In the first of the ninth, Rutter’s Point again
+started things with a whoop when Caspar Billings, first up, singled into
+left field, took second on Townsend’s sacrifice, and was advanced to
+third when Jensen hit past Will Scott. Then Jensen was caught off first
+and House flied out to Shores.
+
+I would like to tell how Clearfield went to bat in the last half of that
+final inning and pounded Mason for enough hits to win the game. But as
+this isn’t one of Fudge’s romances I can’t do anything of the sort. As a
+matter of regrettable fact, Clearfield stood up to the plate and watched
+Mason’s “floaters” waft past them and listened to the fateful voice of
+the umpire calling strikes. Mason ended the day in a blaze of glory,
+striking out three men in order and sending his team off the field
+victors by the score of 5 to 3.
+
+Harold Townsend, slapping his score-book shut, grinned at Dick as the
+last man went out. “What did I tell you?” he asked gleefully. “Say, you
+fellows can’t play ball for shucks, Lovering!”
+
+Dick smiled imperturbably. He had the ability to smile in the face of
+disaster, had Dick.
+
+“We’ll try you again some day,” he answered. “Good-bye, Harold. See you
+Monday.”
+
+“I may not be home,” replied Harold airily.
+
+But when Dick was accompanying his team-mates toward the dressing-room a
+minute or two later, he felt a hand on his arm and looked around to find
+that Harold had followed him.
+
+“Say, Lovering, I—I’m sorry your team got beaten. And thanks for
+showing me about scoring, you know.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HAROLD MAKES A PROMISE
+
+
+The Clearfield _Reporter_ was quite enthusiastic over the game in its
+Monday’s issue. There had been, it declared, for some time a demand for
+a baseball team to represent the city, a demand which had now been
+satisfied in the recent formation of the club which had given such a
+good account of itself on Saturday. It was to be hoped that the
+organization would prosper and receive the support of the many lovers of
+clean sport residing in the town. The _Reporter_ gave the game almost
+play by play, indulging in a wealth of baseball slang and metaphor
+worthy of a metropolitan journal. It was quite evident that the writer
+had thoroughly enjoyed his task. He dealt out praise lavishly and was
+especially complimentary to the Rutter’s Point pitcher, who, it seemed,
+had struck out ten batsmen besides fielding his position perfectly.
+Incidentally the _Reporter_ provided the information that the Clearfield
+players had failed to obtain.
+
+“Melville Mason,” said the paper, “gives every promise of becoming a
+top-notch twirler, and there is no doubt a berth awaiting him in one of
+the big league teams if he wants it. He has been playing ball for six
+years, and last season was second-choice pitcher on the Erskine College
+team. He is nineteen years of age. The Rutter’s Point team is to be
+congratulated on securing the services of so accomplished a player. We
+are assured by Captain Billings that Mr. Mason receives no salary.”
+(“Bet you he’s having his expenses paid, though,” commented Gordon, when
+he and Dick read the _Reporter_ that morning.) “We trust,” concluded the
+_Reporter_, “that a third and determining game will be arranged between
+Saturday’s adversaries and that it will be played on the local grounds,
+where, doubtless, a large audience will be on hand to enjoy it.”
+
+“That isn’t a bad idea,” said Lanny. “We took in forty-three dollars
+Saturday. I dare say we could do even better the next time. And I don’t
+believe but what the Pointers would be willing to play here if they got
+their twenty-five per cent. again.”
+
+“We might offer them a third of the receipts,” suggested Gordon.
+
+Dick looked puzzled. “You fellows are frightfully keen on the financial
+end of it, seems to me,” he said. “What’s the idea, Lanny? What are we
+going to do with the money we get, anyway? We can’t buy balls with all
+of it.”
+
+“Well, there’s no harm in having it,” replied Lanny evasively. “You
+never know when you’ll need money.”
+
+“I know when I need it,” said Dick grimly. “That’s most of the time.”
+
+“It wouldn’t be a bad scheme to sound Billings,” said Gordon. “You might
+tell him we’d like to play a deciding game, and that—er—that as
+Clearfield is interested in the series it would perhaps be best to play
+here. If Billings kicked, you could offer him a third. I dare say we’d
+get a couple of hundred people easily for the next game, and that would
+give the Point something like seventeen dollars.”
+
+“I don’t believe they’re as much on the make as you Shylocks,” objected
+Dick. “Still, I’ll talk it over with him some day. Perhaps, though, it
+would be better to wait and see if they won’t propose the game
+themselves. Then we’d be in a better position to make conditions.”
+
+“Isn’t he the nifty old diplomat?” asked Lanny admiringly.
+
+“A regular fox,” agreed Gordon. “Work it your own way, Dick.”
+
+“We can’t play them for about three weeks, anyway,” said Dick. “We’re
+filled up with games until the third of September. I got a letter from
+Tyson over in Springdale this morning. He says they’ll play us there a
+week from next Saturday if we’ll come over. What do you say?”
+
+“I say yes, by all means,” replied Gordon, with enthusiasm. “And I guess
+we’re all eager to have another try at those chaps after what they did
+to us in June.”
+
+“Well, it won’t be quite the same team, Tyson says, and they’re calling
+themselves the Independents.”
+
+“We’ll call them down,” laughed Lanny. “We play Logan the day after
+to-morrow, don’t we?”
+
+“Yes, and that reminds me that I must see to getting notices printed and
+sent around. I wish you’d do that, Gordon. I’ve got to go out to the
+Point in half an hour. I’ll write out the copy and all you’ll have to do
+is to take it down to the printers. They’ll strike them right off and
+distribute them for us this afternoon.”
+
+“All right. I’ll go there first thing. I’m going to see Morris for a few
+minutes this morning. Any little message I can take from you, Dick?”
+
+“Message? No, not that I know of. Tell him I hope he will hurry up and
+get well again.”
+
+“Of course, but—ah!—is there any other member of the family——”
+
+“Oh, you run away!” laughed Dick.
+
+If Dick expected to find a chastened and much reformed pupil at the
+Point that Monday morning, he was doomed to disappointment. He gathered
+from a remark that the boy let fall that Mrs. Townsend had kept her
+promise to speak to him, but Dick doubted if she had accomplished much.
+And yet there was improvement visible. Harold had actually mastered two
+of the four lessons and Dick gathered some encouragement.
+
+“I guess we won’t go on with this,” he said toward the end of the
+period. “You haven’t studied it, Harold. We’ll take it over to-morrow.
+How did you like the game Saturday?”
+
+“Oh, pretty well! You fellows going to play us again?”
+
+“Maybe, some day. We play Logan Wednesday. Do you care to come over and
+see it? We might have another lesson in scoring.”
+
+“I guess so. We’re going to play a team from Bay Harbor on Saturday.
+Say, Loring says if I’ll learn to score, I can be official scorer for
+the team. I guess I’ll do it.”
+
+“Fine! Then you come over Wednesday, and we’ll try it again. You did
+very well the other day.”
+
+“Did I really? Gee, but there’s a lot to put down, isn’t there? Caspar’s
+got six games arranged for the team. Loring says if I’m scorer they’ll
+take me with them when they go away to play.”
+
+That was really no news to Dick, since it was at his suggestion that
+Loring had made the offer. But he pretended to be surprised and
+interested, and said all he could to encourage Harold to learn to score.
+And Harold became so enthusiastic that he walked over to the trolley car
+with Dick, talking volubly all the way.
+
+“I wish you’d make a real try at those lessons to-day, Harold,” Dick
+said, at parting. “Won’t you?”
+
+Harold grinned noncommittingly.
+
+But the next morning he went through with flying colors, and when Dick
+complimented him he laughed. “Gee, I can get that stuff all right if I
+want to,” he said carelessly. “It’s easy.”
+
+“Why don’t you, then?”
+
+“Aw, what’s the use? I’d rather play around, anyway.”
+
+“Don’t you want to go to Rifle Point, Harold?”
+
+“I guess so. I don’t care much. If I do, Loring will be always bossing
+me about. I’d rather go somewhere else, I guess.”
+
+“Loring’s being there will make things easier for you,” said Dick. “I
+fancy he’s pretty well liked and the fellows will be nice to you on his
+account. But I’ll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won’t get to
+Rifle Point this Fall.”
+
+Harold opened his eyes widely. “I won’t?” he exclaimed.
+
+“Certainly not. And you won’t get there next Fall unless you buckle down
+and learn something.”
+
+“Loring said I could!”
+
+“Loring probably thought you were more advanced than you are, then,”
+replied Dick. “I’m sorry, Harold; but facts are facts.”
+
+“Then what’ll I do this Winter?” asked the boy lugubriously.
+
+“How about another year where you were?”
+
+“I won’t! I hate that place! I won’t go back there, no matter what
+anyone says!”
+
+“Then you might have a tutor.”
+
+That suggestion didn’t seem to make much of a hit. Harold scowled for a
+minute in silence. Then: “Don’t you think I could get in this Fall,
+Lovering, if—if I studied hard?”
+
+Dick hesitated.
+
+“I’m entered, you know,” pleaded Harold. “I should think I might,
+Lovering.”
+
+“Yes, you might,” returned Dick grimly, “but it would mean studying a
+good deal differently than the way you’ve been studying, Harold. It
+would mean getting your nose right down into the books, putting your
+whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime. Think you could do
+that?”
+
+It was Harold’s turn to hesitate. Finally, though, he nodded.
+
+“Well, do you think you _would_ do it?” asked Dick.
+
+“Sure, if—if you’ll help me!”
+
+“I’ll help you, all right, Harold. But there must be no changing your
+mind about it later. If we start this thing, we’re going to keep it up.
+If you’ll work honestly and do the very best you know how, I’ll get you
+so you can pass the exams this Fall. What do you say? Is it a bargain?”
+
+“You bet!” said Harold.
+
+“All right. Hand me those books, please.” Dick turned the pages and made
+new marks on the margins of them. “There; we’ll start off with eight
+pages instead of four, Harold. We’ve got to pretty nearly break all
+existing records, I guess.”
+
+Harold whistled softly. “Gee!” he murmured. “Eight pages of that stuff!”
+Dick looked across inquiringly. Harold squared his shoulders with the
+suggestion of a swagger. “Oh, I’ll do it, all right!” he said. “You just
+watch me!”
+
+Wednesday’s game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic
+field than had the Saturday contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets
+of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received
+only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was
+one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan
+pitchers—she used two of them—were easy for the home-team batsmen,
+while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two of Logan’s runs resulted
+from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender,
+and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an
+atrocious throw to second.
+
+On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone after breakfast. It was
+Louise Brent at the other end of the line, and Louise informed him that
+Morris wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. “It’s something
+about the automobile,” explained Louise. “There’s a man here to look at
+it, Gordon.”
+
+Gordon promised to go right over, and did so. What passed in the sick
+chamber is not to be set down here, but later Gordon went out to the
+stable and stood around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge on the
+end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically and grunted
+at intervals. Finally:
+
+“About fifty dollars will do it,” he said, in a sad tone of voice.
+“There’ll have to be new spokes set in that wheel, and them fenders’ll
+have to be straightened out again, and it’ll need a new lamp and the
+radiator’s sprung and likely leaks and——”
+
+“Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?” asked Gordon.
+
+“I don’t know how good it was when it was new,” responded the man
+dolefully. “But fifty dollars’ll fix it up in good shape, likely.”
+
+“All right. I’ll tell him, and he will let you know. Could you start on
+it right away?”
+
+“Likely I could. I’d have to haul it down to my place, though.”
+
+“How long would it take?”
+
+“Two or three weeks, likely.”
+
+“All right. Much obliged. We’ll let you know for certain to-morrow.
+Fifty dollars is the cheapest you could do it for?”
+
+“Well”—the man scratched his head reflectively—“maybe I could do it
+for forty-five, if I didn’t find anything else the matter with it.
+Likely there ain’t.”
+
+They called him “Mr. Likely” during the following three weeks, for which
+period of time the runabout was in his care. Mr. Likely was a born
+pessimist, and about every two days he called up the Brents’ house to
+inform whoever answered the telephone that “that wheel’s a lot worse’n I
+thought it was, and’ll likely have to have a new rim,” or “I got to send
+out West for a new lamp, and it’ll likely take two weeks or more.” But,
+to anticipate, Mr. Likely made a good job of it, and in the course of
+time the blue runabout was returned to the Brents’ stable, shining and
+polished like a brand-new car. By that time the family had moved out to
+the cottage at the Point, and it was Gordon who saw the automobile run
+into the carriage-room under its own power and who locked the door
+afterward and pocketed the key.
+
+Morris’ leg had knitted so well by the time Clearfield played Springdale
+that he was allowed to make the trip to the neighboring town in a
+carriage and witnessed the contest from a position far more comfortable
+than the sun-smitten boards of the grandstand. That was a pretty good
+game to watch, too. There was plenty of hitting on both sides, enough
+errors to add interest, and several rattling good plays. The game was in
+doubt until the last inning, when Clearfield, with a one-run margin,
+trotted into the field to do her best to hold the home team scoreless.
+Tom Haley had been touched up for eight or nine hits—Dick and Harold
+made it eight, but the Springdale scorer insisted on nine—and, as luck
+would have it, the head of the local batting list was up when the last
+of the ninth began. But Tom and Lanny worked together finely, and,
+although one runner got as far as second, the game ended with a
+spectacular catch by Fudge in deep center, and Clearfield went home with
+the ball. The final score was 7 to 6, and Clearfield derived a lot of
+satisfaction from that victory.
+
+The Saturday before she had played Locust Valley, and had been pretty
+badly defeated, and the following Wednesday she had barely pulled out of
+the game against Corwin with a victory. Corwin had journeyed to
+Clearfield for the contest and the club treasury had had another
+twenty-odd dollars added to it. What puzzled Manager Dick Lovering those
+days was the interest displayed by the whole team in the condition of
+the exchequer. It seemed to Dick that every fellow was showing a
+strangely commercial spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE LIVE WIRES
+
+
+The matter of a new athletic field dragged. Two more meetings had been
+held by the committee, and several trips of inspection had been made to
+near-by fields, but no decision had been reached. In the meanwhile, the
+surveyors had shown activity and had run lines through the old field and
+even demolished a section of the fence. It was a question whether the
+team would be able to use the diamond much longer, although inquiries
+failed to elicit any definite information from the men who were doing
+the surveying. The football enthusiasts were becoming impatient. The
+prospect of having no better place to hold practice the next month than
+an empty lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad didn’t please
+them, and they demanded action.
+
+Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, the principal, had left Clearfield on his
+summer vacation, and several other members of the High School faculty
+were also out of town, and the committee showed a disposition to await
+their return. The hope was several times expressed that, since Mr. Brent
+had done nothing with the field so far, he might postpone cutting it up
+until next year. But when the surveyors got to work that hope seemed
+idle, and at last a public meeting was called at which the Athletic
+Committee was to make a report and recommend the leasing of what was
+known as Tilden’s Meadow for a term of two years. The meadow was a mile
+from Clearfield and on the trolley route to Rutter’s Point, and
+consisted of about fourteen acres of fairly level turf. Only sufficient
+space for a football field and diamond was to be used, and the rest of
+the land was to remain as at present. Mr. Tilden was to keep the grass
+cut in return for the hay and was to receive one hundred dollars a year.
+There was no question of having a running track, for the owner
+absolutely refused to allow one to be laid out, and that, at first
+glance, seemed a great objection to the project. But, as several of the
+committee pointed out, there was no money on hand to build a track even
+if Mr. Tilden would allow it. The plan was to make use of the Y. M. C.
+A. field, a small enclosure behind the Association’s building on
+Lafayette Street, for training purposes, and hold the meets with
+Springdale at the latter’s grounds until Clearfield could secure a track
+of its own.
+
+A piece of land sufficiently large for all athletic purposes was to be
+had across the river and fairly handy to the G Street Bridge, but it was
+next to the railroad tracks and the mills and the sentiment of the
+female members of the High School was strongly opposed to it. “It would
+be horrid!” they declared indignantly. “The smoke and soot from the
+engines and the mill chimneys would spoil our dresses and hats. And,
+besides, we’d have to walk a whole block through dust up to our
+shoe-tops!”
+
+In the face of such weighty opposition the committee gave way, and the
+North Side location was abandoned. Only Tilden’s meadow remained then,
+and to that, too, there was much opposition. Many thought it too far
+from town; others pointed out that, since it was unfenced, there would
+be no way of keeping persons from witnessing games without paying, and
+still others dwelt on the lack of a track. The Athletic Committee was
+not to be envied.
+
+Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning. Dick had got into the
+habit lately of walking over to the Brents’ in the morning before going
+out to the Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the car,
+although it is true that by retracing his steps two blocks he could get
+the trolley at B Street and consequently went only seven blocks out of
+his way. But seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is quite
+a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered by the interest in
+his recovery which led Dick so far afield four or five mornings a week.
+Dick began by taking books to Morris, but his library was soon
+exhausted, and after that he continued to call just the same. Of course
+he always saw Morris, and equally of course Louise appeared at some
+period of his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to have doubts
+as to being the chief attraction. At all events he very frequently left
+Dick for his sister to entertain and it wasn’t apparent that Dick
+mourned his absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and
+sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should not have been quite
+satisfied with her company.
+
+On the morning in question, the morning of the Wednesday following the
+Springdale game, Morris had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to
+the gate and back and having his proposition declined, wandered away
+toward the tennis court, leaving Dick and Louise on the front steps,
+which, at nine o’clock in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had
+brought up the subject of the athletic field and both Morris and Louise
+had had their say. Morris, who was an ardent football enthusiast and
+played a good game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact that,
+with practice commencing in another three weeks or so, no place had been
+provided for it. Louise had reminded him gently that the doctor held out
+slight hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris had briefly
+and succinctly informed them that the doctor was an old granny and
+didn’t know what he was talking about. When he had gone Louise said:
+
+“You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa not to take the field,
+but he wouldn’t listen to us. He said the school could find another
+place to play on without trouble. He seems to think that all we need is
+a back yard or a vacant lot! I don’t think papa ever saw a game of
+baseball or football in his life.”
+
+“It is too bad that he has to cut that field up,” replied Dick, “but I
+don’t see any reason why he should consider us any. He’s been very good
+to let us use it so long. And he’s never charged us a penny, you know.”
+
+“May Scott told me yesterday that her father had told her that the field
+might not be cut up after all. It seems that the mayor or whoever it is
+that has the say about such things doesn’t want papa to put the street
+through there unless he builds it up to some grade or other. I don’t
+understand about it. And papa doesn’t want to do that.”
+
+“Yes, I heard something of that sort. I believe the matter is to come up
+at a meeting this week. It’s the board of aldermen, I think, who are
+against it. It seems that the city has established a new grade out there
+and the present grade is several feet below it. I suppose it means that
+your father would have to do a good deal of filling in if he put the
+street through. Otherwise the city wouldn’t accept it.”
+
+“It sounds awfully complicated to me,” said Louise. “I just wish father
+would change his mind about it. I almost wish the—the aldermen would
+tell him he couldn’t do it!”
+
+“Perhaps they will,” laughed Dick. “But in that case your father would
+probably build to the new grade. So there isn’t much hope, I fear. No, I
+guess it’s up to us to move to new quarters. It’s a queer thing that in
+a town of this size there isn’t a place we can use.”
+
+“I know. And that field they’re talking about now is so hard to get to!
+Of course, there’s the trolley, but it’s been such fun to walk out to
+the games and have the field so near home. Your team plays a game this
+afternoon, doesn’t it, Dick?”
+
+“A sort of a game. We’re going to play a team called the Live Wires at
+four o’clock. They’re fellows in the mills and I guess they haven’t
+played together much. It’ll be sort of a practice affair for us. Tom
+Haley can’t play and Curtis Wayland is going to pitch for us. You
+haven’t been to any of the games, have you?”
+
+“No one has asked me,” she laughed. “Morris has been laid up and——”
+
+“Would you care to go Saturday? We play the Hemlock Camp fellows. I
+guess they have a pretty good team.”
+
+“I’d love to!”
+
+“Then I——” Dick paused and frowned. “The trouble is,” he went on
+apologetically, “I’ll have to be on the bench a good deal of the time.
+Perhaps you’d rather not go.”
+
+“I shouldn’t mind. Just come and see me now and then, Dick.”
+
+“Really? Then I’ll get Gordon or one of the fellows to call for you
+about half-past two.”
+
+“Indeed?” asked Louise coldly. “Why Gordon—or one of the fellows,
+please?”
+
+“Why—why—because,” stammered Dick, “I thought probably you’d rather
+not—That is, I get along so slowly, you know——”
+
+“Dick Lovering, you were going to say you thought I wouldn’t want to
+walk with you! Weren’t you?”
+
+“Well, something of the sort. You see——”
+
+“No, I don’t see at all,” she responded with suspicious sweetness. “I
+shall be very glad to go to the game with you, Dick, but I refuse to be
+palmed off on ‘Gordon or one of the fellows!’”
+
+“Then I’ll be here for you at two-thirty, Louise. It isn’t very far,
+after all; only three blocks, you know.”
+
+“I ought to know,” she said dryly, “since I can see the top of the
+grandstand this minute. I may decide, however, that I want to go by way
+of the Common, Dick.”
+
+Dick smiled doubtfully. “We-ell, that’s all right. I’m game! Now I guess
+I’d better be getting along.”
+
+“The car just went in,” said Louise. “You’ve got nearly a quarter of an
+hour yet. How are you getting along with your pupil?”
+
+“Finely! I tell him two or three times a week that we’ll never be able
+to do it, and he doubles up his fists and glares at me and wants to
+fight—almost. He’s an awfully stubborn little chap and he’s simply made
+up his mind that he’s going to get into school this Fall, and I think he
+will, too. He will if I can keep him mad!” And Dick, smiling, went
+swinging off to catch the car.
+
+That game with the Live Wires wasn’t as easy for Clearfield as Dick and
+Gordon and most of the others expected it to be. Of course Way wasn’t
+much of a pitcher, and that had to be reckoned with, but even allowing
+for that the Live Wires showed up a lot better than anticipated. From a
+financial standpoint the game was a huge success, in spite of the fact
+that the admission had been lowered to fifteen cents to entice the mill
+workers to attend. Attend they did, and “rooted” so lustily and
+incessantly for their team that poor Way was more than once up in the
+air. Young Tim Turner played in right field and Jack Tappen went over to
+left in place of Way. Tim didn’t do so badly, since out of three chances
+he got two flies and only muffed the third because the crowd hooted so
+loudly.
+
+It was quite a tight game up to the fifth inning, with both pitchers
+suffering badly at the hands of the opposing batsmen and both infields
+guilty of many stupid errors. But in the fifth Clearfield landed on
+Kelly, the Live Wires’ pitcher, and batted around before they were
+stopped, adding seven runs to the six already accumulated. In the
+seventh the opposing team returned the compliment and had Way dancing
+out of the path of liners and giving bases on the least provocation. But
+the infield steadied down then and only three runs came over for the
+Live Wires. The final score was fourteen to eight and Dick, who had
+acted as gateman in Tim’s absence, turned over nearly seventeen dollars
+to himself as treasurer. So, on the whole, the game was a success.
+
+When Dick got home after the game his mother told him that a Mr. Potter,
+from the _Reporter_, had called to see him and would be back about
+eight. Gordon came over after supper and was still there when the
+representative of the newspaper repeated his call. Mr. Potter, a
+wide-awake, energetic young man of twenty-five or six years, professed
+his pleasure at finding Gordon on hand. “Because,” he said as he took a
+chair in the Loverings’ little parlor, “I want to talk about another
+game of ball between your team and the Point. I wrote the story of the
+last game, by the way. I don’t know whether you saw it?”
+
+“Yes, we read it,” said Dick. “It was awfully good, I thought.”
+
+“I used to do that sort of stuff in Hartford. Well, say, fellows, how
+about another game? Anything doing along that line?”
+
+“Yes, we’re to play the Point again later. There hasn’t been any date
+set yet, though.”
+
+“Well, that’s good. I mean I’m glad you’re going to get together again.
+Folks who saw that game enjoyed it. There’s nothing like a game of ball
+to bring folks out and give them a good time. Now, Stevens—he’s my boss
+on the _Reporter_, you know—Stevens wants to get up a rousing good game
+for the final one, see? You and what’s-his-name out at the Point set a
+date; make it some Saturday, of course; and let me know and the
+_Reporter_ will whoop things up. How would it do if we got the retail
+tradesmen or someone to offer a prize? Say a silver cup or a phonograph
+or a set of books or something? What the _Reporter_ wants to do is to
+stir up some excitement; see? Get a big crowd there, have the Mayor
+throw out the ball, get folks pulling for the home team and all that
+sort of thing. Great scheme, eh? What do you fellows think?”
+
+The boys looked both doubtful and perplexed.
+
+“Why, I don’t know, Mr. Potter, that we want to make a—a Roman holiday
+of it,” objected Dick. “We started up the team just to have some fun,
+you see.”
+
+“Well, you’ll have your fun, won’t you?” asked the newspaper man
+eagerly. “Don’t mind winning a prize and making a little money, too, do
+you? Look here, fellows, I’m keen on this. I want to make it go. To tell
+the truth, it was my idea. I put it up to Stevens and he fell for it.
+This town needs livening up. Say, honest, we could have the finest sort
+of a hullabaloo without half trying!”
+
+“I don’t see why not, Dick,” observed Gordon, thinking a good deal of
+the money side of the project.
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds sort of like a four-ring circus,
+doesn’t it?” He asked. “Still, I don’t mind. I dare say it would amuse
+folks.”
+
+“Amuse ’em! Say, I’ll guarantee to have ’em talking nothing but baseball
+in a week! I’ll get ’em so they’ll be offering fancy prices for the
+first row in the grandstand!”
+
+The boys laughed. There was something infectious in the man’s enthusiasm
+and the proposed affair began to loom up as a huge and very amusing
+lark.
+
+“Do you really think you can do it?” asked Dick.
+
+“Watch me! I’ll run a story to-morrow on the first page that
+negotiations are under way looking to a deciding game, see? And I’ll
+hint that there is so much feeling between the two teams that the
+outcome is doubtful. Then——”
+
+“That’s hardly truthful, is it?” asked Dick.
+
+“Well, maybe I can get around that,” was the untroubled reply. “I’ll say
+that the folks at the Point are so certain that their team will win that
+they’re willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third game.”
+
+“You’ve got some imagination,” laughed Gordon.
+
+“Have to have in my business,” replied Mr. Potter with satisfaction.
+“You trust me to work up the excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go
+the limit. We’ll print your score-cards for you, and—that reminds me.
+How about a band? Ought to have a band there, oughtn’t we?”
+
+“Bands cost a good deal,” Gordon objected.
+
+“What of it? Why, say, we’ll have three or four hundred folks to see
+that game! We’ll get ’em in from the country and over from Springdale
+and Corwin and from miles around. It might be a good idea——” Mr.
+Potter paused and stared into space a moment. Then he nodded vehemently.
+“That’s the scheme! I’ll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that
+afternoon. Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday.”
+
+Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in amazement.
+
+“Why—why he wouldn’t do that, would he?” gasped Gordon. “Not just for a
+ball game?”
+
+“Sure, he would, if the _Reporter_ got after him hard. Say, you see that
+Point fellow, whatever his name is, and let me know by day after
+to-morrow. And don’t put it off too long. Let’s strike while the iron’s
+hot. Folks want to see baseball now. In another three weeks it’ll be
+about out of season. Well, that’s all. Glad to have met you fellows.”
+Mr. Potter shook hands briskly. “We’ll give Clearfield a ball game she
+won’t forget! Good-night. I’ll see you again in a day or two.”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MR. POTTER GETS BUSY
+
+
+When he was gone the two boys looked at each other a moment and then
+began to laugh.
+
+“Rather takes your breath away, doesn’t he?” gasped Gordon.
+
+“I should say so! And of all crazy stunts——”
+
+“Get out! It’s going to be a heap of fun! I’m for it—strong!”
+
+“So I see. But maybe the Pointers won’t care to take part in such a
+silly affair.”
+
+“Why not? Why, we’ll offer them twenty-five per cent. of the gate
+receipts and they’ll be dead anxious.”
+
+“Pshaw! They don’t need any money. What would they do with it?”
+
+“Do with it? Why—why, what would anyone do with it? Eat it, of course!”
+
+“That’s what I’d like to know. What are _we_ going to do with it, for
+instance?”
+
+“Oh, there’s a lot of things we can do with it, Dick. We might—might
+give it to charity or—or—oh, lots of things!”
+
+“Well, we’re in for it, anyway. I’ll talk to Caspar to-morrow. I guess
+two weeks from next Saturday would be a good date. The trouble is
+they’ve got a lot of games arranged and they may not be able to play
+us.”
+
+“You tell them what this Potter chap says and whoop it up, Dick. They
+can cancel a game if they want to.”
+
+True to his word, Mr. Potter started the ball rolling the next morning.
+The _Reporter_ contained an announcement on the front page under a big
+head:
+
+                            MAY PLAY OFF TIE
+                CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER’S POINT BALL TEAMS
+                    NEGOTIATE FOR THIRD GAME—BITTER
+                             RIVALRY EXISTS
+
+“Who has the better ball team, Clearfield or Rutter’s Point? That’s the
+question that is agitating both this community and the summer colony at
+the end of the trolley. And, if present plans carry, it is a question
+that will soon be settled definitely, and, we hope, to the satisfaction
+of Clearfield. Negotiations are to be opened to-day between
+representatives of the two teams looking to a third and deciding contest
+to be played on the High School field some time between now and the end
+of the month. Each nine has won one game and each nine claims to be a
+little better than the other. Over at the Point they are so certain that
+they have the champion bunch of players that they’re willing to do most
+anything to secure another game with Clearfield. At this end of the line
+there is an equally strong conviction to the effect that our own
+aggregation has more than a shade on the Point team. That’s the way it
+stands now, but the _Reporter_ hopes to be able to announce in another
+day or two that the managers and backers of the rival teams have met and
+agreed on a deciding game. In which case we predict that those who are
+fortunate enough to witness the final battle will see a struggle they
+won’t forget in a long time. Watch for developments!”
+
+Besides that highly-colored effusion there was a short editorial inside
+in which the writer extolled athletics in general and baseball in
+particular. In twenty lines the writer alluded to Greek athletes, Roman
+games, Christopher Mathewson, Tyrus Cobb, the American Eagle, the Spirit
+of Fair Play and Clearfield. The style of the two productions was so
+much alike that Dick and Gordon decided that Mr. Potter was responsible
+for both.
+
+“I hope,” said Dick, “that Caspar won’t see this until I’ve prepared him
+for it. He will think we’ve gone crazy!”
+
+As it happened, however, Caspar Billings was much too busy playing
+tennis that morning to read the _Clearfield Reporter_, and when Dick met
+him he knew nothing of Mr. Potter’s activities. But five minutes later
+he had found the paper and was chuckling enjoyably over the story. “It’s
+great!” he declared. “That fellow ought to be working in New York. He’s
+lost in Clearfield. Say, we’ll have more fun than a picnic out of this,
+Lovering. What sort of a prize did he say?”
+
+“A cup or a phonograph or—or something like that.”
+
+“Me for a phonograph!” laughed Caspar. “Now, when can we play? Of
+course, we’ll go over to your field. Have to, anyway. How about two
+weeks from Saturday?”
+
+“That’s the day I was going to suggest,” replied Dick.
+
+“That’s all right for us. We had a game scheduled with a nine from the
+Ocean House at Traskville, but they telephoned the other day that they
+couldn’t make up a team. That gives What’s-his-name, your newspaper
+friend, a fortnight to work up the excitement. And I’ll bet you he will
+do it!”
+
+“I guess there’s no doubt about that,” replied Dick. “That’s settled,
+then, and I’ll let Potter know. Did I tell you he wanted to get the
+Mayor to declare a holiday and have the stores close?”
+
+“Great Scott, no!” chuckled Caspar. “He’s a wonder. Say, why don’t you
+suggest to him that it would be a bully idea to have the Governor issue
+a proclamation? Wonder if the New York stock market will close,
+Lovering.”
+
+“It will if Potter thinks of it,” laughed Dick. “Well, I must be going.
+I’ll see you again next week and we’ll arrange about an umpire.”
+
+“_An_ umpire!” scoffed Caspar. “We’ll have to have two of them for this
+game; one at the plate and one on bases. Maybe your friend Potter can
+persuade President Johnson to officiate. This is going to be some game,
+Lovering!”
+
+“It’s going to be a circus,” replied Dick. “I dare say they’ll be
+selling popcorn and peanuts there!”
+
+“Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I’m crazy about it. By the way, how
+are you and young Townsend getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the
+kid thinks you’re about the finest thing that ever walked on—I
+mean——”
+
+“Ever hobbled on two crutches,” laughed Dick. “Well, Harold and I pull
+together pretty well these days. The boy is really working like a slave,
+Billings. I didn’t think he could do it.”
+
+“He’s a heap more decent than he was the first of the season. You always
+wanted to kick him then. Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose
+he’s told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn’t do so badly,
+either. If you criticize his way of scoring he looks at you haughtily
+and says, ‘This is the way Lovering does it, and he knows!’”
+
+“You’ll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your scorer doesn’t do you
+justice, Billings. Good-bye!”
+
+It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational aspect of the third
+contest with Rutter’s Point. Fudge loved excitement and color and
+romance, and for that reason the _Reporter’s_ daily items about the
+soul-stirring event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book and
+almost filled it with the amazing articles that appeared from Mr.
+Potter’s feverish and versatile pen. On the morning after Dick’s call on
+Caspar Billings the _Reporter_ blazed forth at the top of the third
+column of the first page as follows:
+
+                          THIRD GAME AGREED ON
+
+               CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER’S POINT TO PLAY OFF
+               TIE ON AUG. 27—LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT
+               STAKE—WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.
+
+What the captains said was that they expected a close game and didn’t
+care to predict the winner. At least, that’s what they really said. In
+Mr. Potter’s account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot more.
+Gordon read his remarks with astonishment and began to wonder whether he
+had not possibly said all those things after all!
+
+[Illustration: “Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday”]
+
+Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and
+did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately, several of
+Louise’s girl friends were there and Dick’s frequent absences from her
+side were not so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned
+dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever captain, played the sort of
+baseball one reads of. The Camp’s pitcher was something of a marvel and
+soon had Dick’s charges eating out of his hand, to use Harold’s
+expression. The contest developed into a pitcher’s battle in which Tom
+had slightly the worst of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by
+the score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting as some
+previous contests, it was at least nearly free of errors and full of
+fast, clean playing. Dick regretted on the way home that Louise had seen
+a defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that she had enjoyed
+it all very much.
+
+“You must come a week from to-day,” said Dick. “Lesterville is coming to
+play us a return game and that will be close and exciting, I think.
+Would you care to?”
+
+“Yes, indeed, only we’ll be at the Point then. Still, I could come over
+on the trolley, couldn’t I? I’ll get Morris to come with me. I wouldn’t
+think of having you come way over there for me, Dick.”
+
+Dick expressed his entire willingness to go to the Point and escort her
+to town, but Louise refused to allow it. “If you’ll come and see us
+during the game it will do just as well,” she said. Dick didn’t think
+so, but he said nothing.
+
+The mass meeting to take action on securing a new athletic field came
+off that evening in the High School assembly hall and, after much
+discussion, the meeting endorsed the committee’s plan to lease Tilden’s
+meadow for a term of two years. The committee reported that it had a
+balance on hand of twenty-eight dollars and forty-six cents and asked
+for more money. It was voted to appoint canvassers to visit the students
+and the graduates, and, if not enough money was secured from them, to
+ask the public to assist. Dick found himself one of the committee on
+subscriptions. Lanny was another. They sympathized with each other on
+their way home and were gibed at by Gordon and Fudge. Fudge offered Dick
+five cents then and there, and, his offer being unexpectedly accepted,
+had to borrow the nickel from Gordon.
+
+The next Monday the _Reporter_ announced that a silver cup was to be
+donated by the merchants as a prize for the team winning the baseball
+game and that it would be on exhibition all next week in the window of
+Wetherell’s jewelry store. Tuesday afternoon Mr. Potter called on Dick
+with a proof of the poster which the _Reporter_ was getting out. It was
+a gay piece of work in red and green ink and well calculated to attract
+the eye. In the center was a picture of a batsman with a flashing eye
+and a poised bat. That was printed in red. The lettering was in green
+and announced: “Championship Baseball! Clearfield vs. Rutter’s Point,
+High School Field, Saturday, September third, two-thirty o’clock. Music
+by Nagel’s Band. Admission 50 Cents, Reserved Seats 75 Cents. Tickets at
+Howland’s Drug Store, and at the Field before the game.”
+
+“We’re going to use a heavy cardboard stock,” explained Mr. Potter, “and
+we’ll strike off a hundred of ’em. We’re going to charge you just what
+the stock and the labor cost us and no more.”
+
+“What about the score-cards?” asked Dick.
+
+“Won’t cost you a cent. I’ve got about a dozen advertisements and those
+will pay for the cards. Another thing we’re going to do is to run an ad
+of the game on Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next week.”
+
+“That’s very kind,” murmured Dick. “You really think folks will pay
+seventy-five cents for seats? Wouldn’t it be better to make the prices
+fifty cents and a quarter?”
+
+“I don’t think so, Lovering. We want ’em to understand that what they’re
+going to see is a real game of ball. They’ll pay the price all right.
+That reminds me of another thing. How would it do for you fellows to get
+hold of a crackerjack pitcher for this game? You could get one for
+thirty dollars or so. There’s Lafferty, of Providence, for instance. I
+dare say he’d twirl for you for twenty-five and his expenses. He’s a
+corker, too! I’ve seen him work.”
+
+“I guess not,” replied Dick. “I think we’ll stick to home talent. It
+seems a bit fairer.”
+
+“Well, just as you say. This fellow Mason, though, is pretty good, and
+everyone would like to see the home team win that game. Better think it
+over. If you change your mind you let me know and I’ll attend to the
+matter for you. I suppose you chaps are keeping up practice pretty
+well?”
+
+“Yes, we practice every day except when there’s a game.”
+
+“That’s the ticket! You play Lesterville next Saturday, don’t you? Well,
+I’ll give a good write-up of the game on Monday. Got to keep the
+excitement going.”
+
+When the newspaper man had gone Dick went out to the porch and sank into
+his favorite chair beside the little table. He was tired and the day was
+a scorching hot one. There had been a solid three hours that morning
+with Harold Townsend and, although Harold had done his share without a
+whimper, it had been pretty hard for teacher as well as pupil. Dick
+closed his eyes and frowned in the green shadow of the vines. Was Harold
+going to make it? There were times when Dick was sure that he would, but
+also there were moments, usually when, as to-day, he was fagged out,
+when he had his doubts. If Harold could remember what he had learned
+when the time came he would undoubtedly get through, but there was
+always the danger that he wouldn’t. Dick sighed. At least, though, he
+reflected, his frown fading, he was doing his honest best for the boy.
+And—and here the frown quite disappeared—he had made a nice lot of
+money that was greatly needed. He would, he told himself, have enough by
+the middle of the month, when Harold went off to Rifle Point to put the
+summer’s work to the test, to pay for a new heater for the house. That
+was the most necessary improvement of the many that were needed. For the
+last two or three years the old furnace, never satisfactory, had quite
+failed to keep them comfortable in cold weather. Dick was wondering how
+much the hardware man would allow him for it when the gate clicked and
+Gordon and Morris Brent came up the path.
+
+Morris still used his crutches, but, as he explained, the doctor had
+told him yesterday that he might lay them aside in another week. “And
+I’ll be mighty glad to,” he added. “They’re rotten things to have to get
+about with.” Then his eye fell on Dick’s crutches, leaning within reach,
+and he colored. “I guess I oughtn’t to kick, though,” he added hastily.
+
+Dick smiled. “They are awkward if you’re not used to them, I suppose,
+Morris. I’m glad you’re getting on so well. Gordon says you’re going to
+move to the Point this week.”
+
+Morris nodded. “Wednesday,” he said. “I want you and Gordon to come out
+some evening and have dinner. Will you?”
+
+“Why, yes, I’d be glad to, Morris. Thank you.”
+
+“Then I’ll settle on a day with the folks. Mother told me to tell you
+she wanted very much to have you. Louise, too. How would Saturday do?”
+
+“All right, I think. We have a game Saturday, but I dare say it will be
+over by five. What time do you dine?”
+
+“Seven. That’ll give you heaps of time. I’m going to fetch Louise in to
+see the game and we can all go back together.” Morris turned to Gordon.
+“That suit you?” he asked.
+
+“Finely. Could we get the quarter of six car, do you think? I’d like
+mighty well to get a swim before dinner. Got an extra bathing suit out
+there?”
+
+“You can take mine. What do you want to do with this?” Morris held up a
+book in a red cloth cover.
+
+“Oh, I brought that over for you, Dick,” said Gordon. “That is, I
+borrowed it and he brought it. Thought you might like to look it over.”
+
+“Much obliged,” said Dick, accepting the volume and reading the title
+rather puzzledly. “‘The Automobile; it’s Care and Management.’
+Er—what——” He looked from Gordon to Morris. “What’s the idea,
+fellows? I’m much obliged, of course, but why should I want to study up
+on autos, please?”
+
+“Oh, you like to know how to do everything,” replied Gordon carelessly.
+“That’s mighty interesting, isn’t it, Morris?”
+
+“Great!” agreed the other enthusiastically. Dick still looked puzzled,
+but opened the book and glanced at two or three of its pages.
+
+“All right, I’ll have a go at it some time. It does look interesting.
+Thank you.” He laid the volume on the table. “What ever became of that
+car of yours, Morris?”
+
+“It’s home. I’m going to sell it. I paid Stacey the rest of the money I
+owed him the other day. He’s a mean little runt. Don’t want to buy it,
+do you, Dick?”
+
+Dick smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid I couldn’t afford it. It
+would be sort of handy for me to get around in, though, wouldn’t it?
+Look here!” He viewed the two boys searchingly. “You fellows didn’t
+bring me this book expecting I’d get daffy about automobiles and buy
+that one of yours, did you?”
+
+“Of course not,” disclaimed Gordon hurriedly. “Besides, Morris has a
+buyer for that car already. That is, he thinks he has.”
+
+“All right. Still I don’t see why you think I want to read up on
+automobiles,” said Dick. “What’s the use of knowing how to run a car and
+grease its joints if I haven’t got one and couldn’t run it if I had?”
+
+“Couldn’t run it! Of course you could run it,” said Gordon. “Couldn’t
+he, Morris?”
+
+“Easy! It’s nothing to do. I could show you how in two days. Why——”
+
+But at that moment Morris encountered Gordon’s warning look and
+subsided. Dick stared perplexedly.
+
+“I think you chaps are crazed by the heat,” he said. “You’ve got
+automobiles on the brain. What you need, Gordie, is to get out and play
+ball. It must be about time to start for the field, too. By the way,
+Harry telephoned over at noon that he couldn’t get out to-day.”
+
+“Again? I’ll bet anything Harry’s father isn’t keeping him away from
+practice. He’s just lazy. I guess we’d better come down on him with that
+twenty-five cent fine!”
+
+“I’ll go over with you and look on if you don’t mind,” said Morris. “You
+can’t call me one of the enemy now, you know.”
+
+“Glad to have you,” responded Dick. “I’ll put this book inside and we’ll
+start along. We’ll make a fine appearance,” he laughed. “Two cripples
+and a crazy fellow!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+MR. BRENT TO THE RESCUE
+
+
+A big crowd turned out the following Saturday for the Lesterville game.
+As a manufacturing town Lesterville was something of a rival to
+Clearfield and baseball lovers of the latter place were eager to see the
+Lesterville players humbled. By half-past two—the game was scheduled
+for three o’clock—the stand was well filled. Dick’s charges reached the
+field soon after the half-hour and began practice. They had, however,
+scarcely begun throwing the balls around when there was a commotion at
+the gate and Tim Turner was seen excitedly gesticulating toward Dick,
+who, near first base, was watching the team. Dick hurried across to the
+gate and found Tim trying to exclude a short, red-faced man in blue
+overalls.
+
+“He says he wants to get in to open the big gate,” explained Tim. “He
+says they’re going to begin work in here. They’ve got a cart down the
+street there and a lot of men and——”
+
+“Sure,” said the man in overalls. “We’re going to plow in here. Them’s
+the orders.”
+
+“But you can’t do it now,” exclaimed Dick. “We’re going to play in half
+an hour. Those folks on the stand have paid to see the game. Can’t you
+wait until Monday?”
+
+“We cannot,” replied the man emphatically. “Mr. Brent give me the
+contract to build the street through here and me time’s valuable. You’ll
+have to play your game somewhere else, I’m thinking.”
+
+“But we can’t do that! There isn’t any other place! Look here, Mr. Brent
+gave us permission to use this field and I’m sure he wouldn’t want you
+to come and break up our game like this. The other fellows have come all
+the way from Lesterville to play us.”
+
+“’Tis no affair of mine, young feller.” The man tried to push by Dick
+and Tim, but many of the audience, attracted by the argument, had
+gathered around, and these, taking Dick’s side, stood immovably in the
+way. The contractor showed anger. “Now you fellers let me through here
+till I open them gates down there,” he blustered. “If you don’t we’ll
+break ’em down.”
+
+“Try it!” said someone eagerly, and a laugh of approval went up.
+
+“I’ll get the cops here if you make trouble for me an’ me men! An’ if
+it’s trouble you’re lookin’ for——”
+
+“Oh, run away till the game’s over, can’t you?” asked another of the
+throng. “Be a sport! What’s the good of busting up the fun?”
+
+“An’ me losin’ money while you fellers play ball, eh? What for would I
+be doin’ that? You leave me get to the gates.”
+
+“Nothing doing, friend! Better back out!”
+
+“Hold on a minute,” said Dick quietly. “Will you wait fifteen minutes,
+Mister—er——”
+
+“Me name’s Mullin,” growled the contractor. “What’ll I be waitin’ fer?”
+
+“To give us a chance to see Mr. Brent about it.”
+
+“I got me contract, an’——”
+
+“I know,” said Dick soothingly. “That’s all right. You’ve got a perfect
+right to come in here and do whatever you’ve got to do, but it’s going
+to put us in an awful mess. Give us time to find Mr. Brent and see what
+he says about it, won’t you?”
+
+“How long will it take?”
+
+“Not long. Say fifteen minutes. He’s probably here in town. I’ll ask his
+son. He’s over there in the stand.” Dick wasn’t at all certain that
+Morris had arrived, but he risked it. The contractor hesitated and
+finally nodded surlily.
+
+“All right. I’ll give you till three o’clock. Then I’m goin’ in here,
+an’ if anyone tries to stop me——”
+
+“I understand. Thank you. Tim, pass the gentleman inside until we settle
+this.”
+
+“I’ll wait here,” said the contractor grimly.
+
+Dick hurried across to the stand and searched for Morris. Presently he
+found him, with Louise at his side, halfway up the slope.
+
+“Is your father in town, Morris?” he asked anxiously after he had
+greeted Louise.
+
+“I don’t know. What’s wanted, Dick?”
+
+Dick explained hurriedly and Morris whistled. “He may be at his office
+or he may be on his way out to the Point. He doesn’t usually stay in
+town on Saturday afternoons in summer. I’ll see if I can find him,
+though. Only thing is, it’ll take me a long time to hobble over to his
+office.”
+
+“I can do it quicker, I guess. Or, hold on! I know! I’ll get Gordon to
+go. I’ll be back presently.”
+
+Dick hurried down to the diamond and summoned Gordon from first base.
+Practice was still going on, but in a desultory way, for most eyes had
+been turned toward the gate. As quickly as he could Dick explained what
+had happened. “He will do it for you if he will for anyone,” ended Dick.
+“See if he won’t call off the workmen until after the game or until
+Monday, Gordon. Morris says he may be at his office. If he isn’t he’s
+gone home to the Point. Try the telephone in that case. And try to get
+back here by three. That chap won’t wait much longer.”
+
+Gordon nodded and sped toward the gate just as the Lesterville team came
+onto the field. He was in his playing clothes, but there was no time to
+change them and he didn’t, as a matter of fact, give much thought to
+them. It was five blocks to Mr. Brent’s office in the bank building, and
+two of the blocks were long ones. Gordon did the distance in five
+minutes and leaped up the marble stairway to find a clerk just locking
+the outer door of the office.
+
+“Mr. Brent?” he gasped.
+
+“Gone home,” replied the clerk, looking curiously at Gordon’s attire and
+perspiring countenance. “He left about five minutes ago. You might catch
+him before he gets the trolley.”
+
+Gordon raced off again and fortune was with him. Only a block down F
+Street he descried Mr. Brent in front of him walking briskly toward the
+car line and tapping the pavement with his cane. Gordon overtook him
+just over the Main Street crossing. Morris’ father turned at the boy’s
+breathless hail.
+
+“Ah, that you, Merrick? How do you do! Want to see me?”
+
+“Yes, sir, please!” gasped Gordon. “Mr. Brent, they’re trying to get
+into the field, sir, to start work on it this afternoon. And we’re
+playing Lesterville and there’s a big crowd there, sir——”
+
+“You mean that Mullin is starting work there? Well, that’s all right, my
+boy. I told him to.”
+
+“Yes, sir, of course, but—but couldn’t he wait until Monday, sir? We
+are going to play Lesterville, and they’re here and there’s a lot of
+folks paid to see the game.”
+
+“Oh, that’s it, is it? Why, I don’t know, Merrick. What does Mullin say?
+It’s his affair now. He has the contract for the work, you see.”
+
+“He says he won’t wait, Mr. Brent. But if you told him to——”
+
+“But really, Merrick, I haven’t any right to interfere!”
+
+“It—it’s your field, sir! And you said we could use it!”
+
+Mr. Brent frowned. “I said you could use it until I was ready to put the
+street through, Merrick. Wasn’t that it?”
+
+“Yes, sir, I suppose so,” replied Gordon dejectedly. Mr. Brent drew his
+big gold watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped it open, frowned at it
+and snapped it shut again.
+
+“As a matter of fact, Merrick, if the city council hadn’t held me up on
+that business you’d have lost your field weeks ago. You ought to be
+thankful for that. We’re late on starting that work as it is and I
+prefer not to have any more delay. I’m sorry, but you boys will have to
+play your game somewhere else.” He smiled, dropped his watch back to his
+pocket and turned toward the car line.
+
+“There isn’t any other place, sir,” said Gordon sadly.
+
+“No other place? Why, there must be lots of places! I’ve seen boys
+playing ball all sorts of places. There’s a back-lot behind my offices,
+now. I’ve seen them playing there day after day—and making a lot of
+noise, too. Come now, Merrick, you’re fibbing a little, aren’t you?”
+
+“No, sir, really,” Gordon answered earnestly. “You can’t play a real
+game of baseball on a small lot, sir. I guess—I guess you’ve never seen
+one, Mr. Brent.”
+
+“Seen a game of ball? N-no, I suppose not. I thought all you needed was
+an empty lot or a back-yard, Merrick. You say there isn’t any other
+place?”
+
+“No, sir. We’re going to lease a piece of ground out toward the Point,
+but we haven’t got it yet, and, anyway, it isn’t ready for playing on.”
+
+“Too bad,” said Mr. Brent sympathetically. “But, really, Merrick, you
+ought not to ask me to stop work in order that you can play baseball.
+That—that’s a little too much, eh?”
+
+“I suppose so, sir,” acknowledged Gordon dejectedly. “Only—we
+thought—maybe a half a day wouldn’t make much difference——”
+
+“A half a day might make a lot of difference. Minutes count, my boy.
+You’ll learn that some day. No, no, I can’t interfere with Mullin. It’s
+his job. If he wants to accommodate you, all right, but you mustn’t
+expect me to interfere in his affairs, Merrick. Sorry. I’d like to
+oblige you.”
+
+Gordon stared at the pavement. Mr. Brent coughed, turned away and
+hesitated. “Well, good-day, Merrick,” he said finally.
+
+“Mr. Brent!” Gordon raised his head, his cheeks rather red. “Mr. Brent,
+you said once that—that if I ever wanted a favor—you——”
+
+“Hm; yes, I know I did.”
+
+“Well, sir, I’d like awfully to have you do this for us.”
+
+“Think that will square accounts, Merrick?”
+
+“Why—why, you don’t owe me anything, sir,” stammered Gordon, “but you
+said——”
+
+“Yes, and I’ll keep my word.” Mr. Brent sighed and looked regretfully
+down the street. “All right. Come on, then. I’ll walk over with you and
+see what can be done.”
+
+“Thank you,” Gordon murmured as he fell into step beside the man.
+“It—it’s awfully good of you, sir.”
+
+“H’m,” replied Mr. Brent dryly. “You evidently don’t value your service
+to me very highly, Merrick. It doesn’t occur to you, apparently, that
+you might ask a good deal more than this in return for what you did for
+Morris.”
+
+“I—I never meant to ask for anything,” murmured Gordon.
+
+“Hm. More fool you, then!”
+
+There was no more conversation. Mr. Brent walked briskly and it was but
+a minute or two after three when they reached the field. It was evident
+that they had got there none too soon, for the big gates halfway along
+the board fence were open and a wagon with a plow in it was drawn partly
+through it. That it was not all the way through was due to the fact that
+the audience, or a good part of it, had gathered at the point of attack
+and was doing its best to repel the contractor’s men. Shouts and jeers
+and laughter came from the scene. At the ticket gate young Tim Turner,
+afraid to leave his post of duty, was peering longingly toward the
+turmoil. Mr. Brent strode more quickly.
+
+“Hm,” he said, “I don’t see that I was needed much, Merrick.”
+
+Mullin, the contractor, very red of face and angry of eye, was berating
+the jeering crowd with the rough side of his tongue. Five laborers, two
+of them clutching the bridles of the horses, looked ready and eager for
+a fight. At sight of Mr. Brent a cheer went up from the crowd inside the
+gates, and Dick, anxious-eyed, fell back from where he had been vainly
+trying to avert trouble. Mr. Brent walked up to the contractor.
+
+“Get out, Mullin,” he said. “Leave it until Monday.”
+
+Mullin scowled hard. “An’ who’ll pay me for the time I’ll be losin’, Mr.
+Brent?” he demanded angrily.
+
+“I will,” was the reply. “You ought to have seen, anyway, that the field
+was being used. Get your team out now. I’ll settle for your loss.”
+
+“That’s all right, then,” replied the contractor. “All I wants is me
+rights. Back ’em out, Jerry.” And amidst the jeers of the spectators
+Mullin and his men retired, the gates were closed again and barred and,
+laughing and jostling, the defenders hurried back to secure their seats
+before others appropriated them, leaving Dick and the ball players and a
+few still curious ones at the gate. Among the latter was Morris, and it
+was Morris who, grinning broadly, came forward on his crutches.
+
+“Good stuff, dad,” he said approvingly.
+
+Mr. Brent viewed him without enthusiasm. “You here?” he asked. “Where is
+your sister?”
+
+“In the stand, sir. I——”
+
+“You’d better go back and look after her, it seems to me,” said Mr.
+Brent grimly. Morris’s grin faded and, with a wink at Gordon, he hobbled
+back toward the seats.
+
+“We’re awfully much obliged, sir,” said Dick. “If it hadn’t been for all
+these people, who had paid to see the game——”
+
+“Of course. I understand. You needn’t thank me. Thank Merrick.”
+
+The players went back to their places, Lesterville to the diamond to
+finish her warming up, and Clearfield to the bench. Gordon was left
+practically alone with Mr. Brent, even Dick deserting him. From beyond
+the fence came the angry bellow of the contractor’s orders. “Leave the
+team here, Jerry,” he was saying. “We’ll be back Monday, an’ I’d like to
+see the man that’ll be stoppin’ me then!”
+
+“Wouldn’t you like to see the game, Mr. Brent, now that you’re here?”
+asked Gordon at last. He ought to be with his team-mates, but he didn’t
+want to walk away and leave Mr. Brent standing alone there by the gate.
+The latter, who had been looking curiously at the renewed activity of
+the Lesterville players, now glanced at his watch, grunted and nodded.
+
+“I might as well stay awhile,” he replied. “Where do you pay?”
+
+“You needn’t pay, sir. We’re glad to have you see the game.”
+
+“I prefer to pay,” was the reply as Mr. Brent followed Gordon toward the
+stand. “Here, son!” He had caught sight of Tim Turner at the ticket gate
+and walked across to him. “What’s the price?”
+
+“T-Twenty-five cents, sir,” stammered Tim.
+
+Mr. Brent found two dimes and a nickel among his change, handed them to
+the awed Tim and went on. “Where’s Morris?” he asked. “I’ll sit with him
+a few minutes.”
+
+Gordon didn’t know where Morris was, but he called to Dick and Dick
+pointed him out. Then Gordon piloted Mr. Brent up the stand and by dint
+of much moving and shoving a place was made for him and Gordon,
+muttering his thanks again and getting a non-committal nod from Mr.
+Brent, took himself off.
+
+“I’m so glad, papa,” said Louise gratefully. “It would have been horrid
+if they couldn’t have played the game, wouldn’t it?”
+
+“Would it?” Mr. Brent smiled and settled his cane between his knees.
+“Who are those young fellows out there, Morris?”
+
+“Those are the Lesterville players, sir. They’re warming up for the
+game.”
+
+“Warming up, eh? Then the game hasn’t begun yet?”
+
+“No, sir. They’re coming in now, though. It will start in a minute.”
+
+“Need all this room for a game of ball, do they?”
+
+“Why, of course, papa,” replied Louise. “Sometimes they hit the ball way
+over by the further fence there!”
+
+“That so? Well, let’s see ’em do it!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MR. BRENT TELEPHONES
+
+
+Perhaps a liking for baseball is latent in every American. Otherwise how
+explain the fact that Mr. Jonathan Brent, who, on his own showing, had
+never witnessed a game before in his life, watched that one with very
+evident interest? It was, of course, quite incomprehensible to him at
+first and both Morris and Louise had to do a lot of patient explaining.
+But by the end of the second inning their father had a very fair notion
+of what was going on, although he still was puzzled by many of the
+incidents. As when a Lesterville player tried to reach second after Will
+Scott had captured a foul behind third base and was thrown out by a
+scant foot. If it was a foul, argued Mr. Brent, that fellow on first
+shouldn’t have left his base. No sooner was that explained—by Morris,
+since Louise’s knowledge of baseball wasn’t sufficient for the
+task—than Tom Haley was unfortunate enough to hit the Lesterville right
+fielder on the elbow. The umpire waved the squirming, dancing batter to
+first and Mr. Brent exclaimed: “Now, what’s that for, Morris? He didn’t
+hit the ball, did he?”
+
+At the end of the fourth inning, when Clearfield had managed to bat out
+a two run lead, Mr. Brent looked at his watch and announced his
+intention of leaving. “Guess you can finish this without me now,” he
+said. “Mother will be wondering where I’ve gone to.”
+
+“No, she won’t,” replied Louise. “Mama’s gone to Mrs. Grey’s this
+afternoon. Do stay and see just two more innings, papa.”
+
+“Yes, don’t leave us now, dad,” said Morris. “You never can tell what’s
+going to happen in a ball game!”
+
+Mr. Brent frowned, fidgeted and finally leaned back again. “Well,” he
+said, “I’ll see one more turn for each of ’em.”
+
+But at the end of the seventh when, after Lesterville had gone ahead in
+the fifth, Clearfield came back with two doubles and a base on balls and
+evened up the score, Mr. Brent was still there and showed no signs of
+leaving. In fact, although we have only Morris’ word for it—Louise
+remaining smilingly reticent on the point—when, in the eighth, with
+three Lesterville players on bases and only one out, Harry Bryan and
+Pete Robey executed a lightning double-play that retired the side
+without a tally, Mr. Brent’s voice was to be heard with the others that
+went up in a shout of delight! And even Louise affirmed that, in the
+tenth inning, when Gordon rapped out the single that sent Harry Bryan
+across with the winning run Mr. Brent pounded approvingly with his cane
+and declared that “that Merrick boy was a smart one!”
+
+Ten to nine was the final tally and Dick and Harold Townsend, who had
+sat beside the manager during the entire game and kept a perfectly
+correct score—barring a mistake or two quickly set right by a
+surreptitious glance at Dick’s columns—closed their score-books with
+delighted slams. Revenge is sweet, and this had been fairly won.
+
+Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable Harold
+journeyed together by trolley car to the Point and talked the game over
+with a wealth of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry party at
+the Brents’ cottage that evening. Mr. Brent pretended to have found the
+game very tiresome and declared that he didn’t see any sense in grown-up
+boys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the young folks, and Mrs.
+Brent, too, she having heard of her husband’s doings, pretended that
+they believed him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his swim
+in the ocean before, borrowed Morris’ suit and went in by moonlight. The
+cottage almost overhung the waves and the others, on the veranda,
+watched him glide in and out of the moon’s path and supplied him with a
+lot of doubtless excellent advice on the subject of swimming. Still
+later, with Gordon once more among them, Louise brought out her mandolin
+and they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring Townsend and Caspar
+Billings joined the company and added their voices to the chorus. Then
+they talked some more; of the day’s game, of the next Saturday’s
+important contest—and the _Reporter’s_ latest efforts—of school and a
+dozen other things.
+
+Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield, both comfortably
+tired and sleepy, and Gordon walked home with Dick. It was just before
+they reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise on his
+friend.
+
+“I’ve been thinking,” announced Dick, “that there’s one mighty good use
+we can put our money to, Gordie.”
+
+“What money?” asked Gordon, with a yawn.
+
+“Why, the money we’ve made on the games. You see, if we have the crowd
+next week that Potter thinks we’ll have we ought to be about two hundred
+and fifty dollars in pocket.”
+
+“Easy! Then what?”
+
+“Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a track on the new field.
+How’s that for a scheme?”
+
+“Why—er—oh, that’s fine!” But Gordon’s tone didn’t sound terribly
+enthusiastic!
+
+Mr. Potter’s prediction came true. By Monday Clearfield was undeniably
+baseball-mad. Even middle-aged and serious-minded merchants discussed
+the probable outcome of the third game between the home team and the
+Pointers when they met each other on the street or when they hobnobbed
+over the Fifty Cent Merchant’s Lunch at Martin’s Café. The younger
+element of the town was wrought up to a fine pitch of excitement. Those
+of its sterner sex who could do so went out to watch the Clearfield team
+practice in the afternoon, while the gentler sex, especially those with
+High School affiliations, became wildly partisan. A dozen or more girls,
+led by Grace Lovering, got together and manufactured a gorgeous pennant
+of purple and white silk, some four feet long, which, when completed,
+was hung behind the silver trophy in Wetherell’s window and, like the
+handsome cup, was to be presented to the winner. It was Lanny who made
+the suggestion that the pennant was much too good looking to become the
+property of the Pointers and that it should be a perpetual trophy to be
+played for each year. The girls approved the suggestion and the
+_Reporter_ amended its previous statement regarding the flag. The
+trolley company announced a fare of one-half the usual rate for the
+round-trip on Saturday between Clearfield and near-by towns, and, while
+Mr. Potter failed to prevail on the Mayor to declare a public holiday,
+he did persuade the shop-keepers to agree to close their places of
+business between the hours of two and five. As a matter of fact, with
+few exceptions all of them were glad to do so, for they wanted to see
+that game as much as anyone!
+
+There was usually a crowd in front of Wetherell’s jewelry store that
+week. In the front row one found a half-dozen or so of small urchins
+with their noses pressed closely against the plate-glass, while behind
+them stood a scattering of older persons admiring, criticizing and
+audibly reading the engraved inscription which informed the world that
+the cup was to be “Presented by the Retail Merchants of Clearfield to
+the —— Baseball Club, Winners of the Clearfield Championship,
+September Third, Nineteen Hundred and——.” It was a very attractive
+affair, that trophy; twelve inches high, with a fluted base and two
+scrolled handles and a polished ebony stand beneath it. It was generally
+conceded that the merchants had done themselves proud. The _Reporter_
+gave a picture of it and a half-column list of those who had subscribed.
+
+The town was liberally scattered with the red and green posters on
+Monday. They glared and shouted at one from every window. One was not
+allowed to forget for an instant that on the following Saturday
+afternoon the greatest and most important athletic event in the history
+of Clearfield was to be witnessed at the High School Field for the
+ridiculously moderate price of fifty cents—or seventy-five if you
+wanted to be sure of a seat!
+
+All this in spite of the fact that from every indication there would be
+no field to play on!
+
+Mr. Potter was at Dick’s at a quarter past seven that morning. He was
+filled with dismay and wrath, and some of the things he said about Mr.
+Jonathan Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-five
+he hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a few minutes before nine he was
+back again, literally frothing at the mouth.
+
+“Say!” he almost shouted in response to Dick’s anxious query. “Say! He
+didn’t say a thing! He let me talk my head off, that is all he did! I
+told him that public opinion would be against him if he allowed that
+field to be demolished before the game, that Clearfield would be up in
+arms, that the _Reporter_ would deal editorially with the matter and not
+mince its words!” Mr. Potter faltered then.
+
+“What did he say to that?” asked Dick. “He must have said something!”
+
+“He said,” replied the newspaper man subduedly, “that he controlled
+three-fifths of the stock of the _Reporter_ and he guessed the paper
+wouldn’t be too hard on him!”
+
+Dick grinned. “Does he?”
+
+Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. “Yes, but I’d forgotten it. After that I
+had to—well, I had to tone down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn’t be
+possible to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I told him
+about all the advertising that had been done and how everyone was
+looking forward to the game and all that, you know.”
+
+“Yes? And he wouldn’t agree?”
+
+“He said, ‘Young man, get out!’ Just that and not another word!”
+
+“Then I guess it’s all off,” said Dick regretfully. “It’s too bad. Of
+course, we might play the game at the Point——”
+
+“We couldn’t get the crowd over there. No, sir, it’s got to be played
+here. You’re certain there isn’t another field anywhere?”
+
+“Absolutely certain.”
+
+“Then there’s just one thing to be done. It’s a last resort and it
+doesn’t promise well, but I’ll try it.”
+
+“What?” asked Dick.
+
+Mr. Potter sank his voice. “See the contractor,” he said, “and buy him
+off. For a hundred dollars——”
+
+“A hundred dollars!” exclaimed his hearer. “Where’d we get it?”
+
+“Pshaw, we’ll clear up two hundred easy if we can pull the game off!”
+
+“Well,” replied Dick doubtfully, “but even so I don’t believe Mullin
+would dare to do it.”
+
+“Supposing, though, his men went on strike?” suggested the other with a
+wink. “He couldn’t help himself then, could he?”
+
+“N-no, but—I don’t like it, Mr. Potter. It’s pretty under-hand, it
+seems to me. After all, we don’t _have_ to play that game, and——”
+
+“Don’t have to! You bet you have to! Look at that cup! Look at all the
+printing we’ve done; posters, score-cards, tickets! Look at——” But
+words failed him and he seized his hat from the table. “Here, I’ve got
+to get busy! That Irishman may be plowing up the field right now! See
+you later, Lovering!”
+
+And Mr. Potter dashed off again.
+
+Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about developments and after
+that Tom Haley wanted information. Dick had no hopeful news to impart,
+however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as Dick was starting for the
+Point—by way of Brentwood—and walked with him as far as the corner of
+A Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and reminded him that three was a
+crowd. Dick had the grace to blush.
+
+“Oh, come on,” he said awkwardly. “Don’t be a silly chump!”
+
+“Thanks,” murmured Gordon sweetly, “but we wouldn’t think of intruding.
+Come along, Fudge.”
+
+“Wh-wh-what’s up?” asked Fudge when Dick had gone on. “Wh-why didn’t you
+w-w-want to go along?”
+
+“I can’t explain,” replied Gordon gently. “You’re too young, Fudge, to
+hear such things.”
+
+Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to “ch-ch-chase himself!”
+
+Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at Dick because
+he hadn’t been able to find him before. “Say, there’s something funny
+about this business,” he confided, sinking into a chair on the porch and
+mopping his forehead vigorously. “I went over to the field after I left
+you this morning and there wasn’t a thing doing. You said Mullin left
+his wagon there, didn’t you?” Dick nodded. “Well, it’s gone now. I tried
+to get him on the ’phone and his wife said he was out of town. What do
+you make of that?”
+
+Dick shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe Mr. Brent thought better of it
+after you left him. You’re certain the wagon was gone?”
+
+“Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside. There wasn’t a
+scratch there and there wasn’t even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now,
+what does that mean? I’d call the old chap up and ask him, only—well,
+frankly, Lovering, I’m afraid I’ll lose my job! I suppose you wouldn’t
+want to get him on the telephone and ask him about it?”
+
+“I’d a lot rather not,” owned Dick. “I guess I’m just about as scared of
+him as you are.”
+
+“But he can’t hurt you! With me it’s different. If he ever tells Stevens
+I went to his office and read the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me a
+ticket and a week’s pay!”
+
+“I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to,” said Dick after a
+moment’s thought. “I’ll see if I can find him on the ’phone.”
+
+But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gone
+somewhere with Fudge.
+
+“I’ll see him at four o’clock,” said Dick. “I told the fellows we’d meet
+at the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don’t see
+why—Excuse me a minute, will you?”
+
+The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches again and once more
+swung himself into the house.
+
+“This you, Dick?” asked the voice at the other end of the line. “This is
+Morris. Say, Dick, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago.
+He telephoned from the office. ‘You can tell that Merrick boy,’ says he,
+‘that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see me
+Wednesday. I’m going to Hartford at three and I’ll be back Wednesday
+noon.’ That’s great, isn’t it?”
+
+“Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Saturday,
+Morris?”
+
+“Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn’t it? And his wanting to see Gordon
+makes it look that way, too. I’ve been trying to find Gordon, but his
+mother says he’s out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me up
+here at the Point, Dick.”
+
+“I will. That’s bully news, Morris, and your father’s a brick! I’ve just
+been talking with Mr. Potter. He’s all het up about it,” laughed Dick.
+“He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I’ll tell
+Gordon when I see him about four.”
+
+Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted by
+Mr. Potter’s eager and questioning countenance.
+
+“I couldn’t help hearing what you said,” he exclaimed. “Has he come
+around?”
+
+“I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on and
+use the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He’s
+going to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it’s all right.”
+
+Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. “Well, I hope so. I want to put
+this thing through now that I’ve started, Lovering. I’ll breathe easier,
+though, when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again about
+Wednesday we’ll be in a worse pickle than ever!”
+
+“I don’t think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he’s concluded to let us use
+the field. If he hadn’t Mullin would be at work this minute. If I were
+you, though, I’d hear what Mullin says.”
+
+“I will, just as soon as he gets home.” Mr. Potter looked at his watch
+and jumped to his feet. “I must be off. Say, that’s a load off my mind,
+all right! Now I’ll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. He
+wants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that’s fair enough. By the
+way, can you let me have your batting-list to-morrow? We want to print
+those score-cards about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything more
+call me up at the office. If I’m not there they’ll take a message. Bye!”
+
+“I wonder,” mused Gordon when Dick met him at practice an hour later,
+“what he wants to see me about.”
+
+“Well, it’s about the field, I suppose,” said Dick. “Don’t look so
+frightened, Gordie. He won’t eat you!”
+
+Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully. “I know, but that man
+scares me to death. I don’t know why, either. He’s always been as nice
+as pie to me. I guess it’s his eyes. They sort of go right through you
+and come out the other side!”
+
+There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon and the
+Clearfield Baseball Club performed to enthusiastic applause. Dick had
+sought to arrange a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no team
+that could or would play them, which was a matter of regret since
+Clearfield needed harder practice than it could get without an opponent.
+Rutter’s Point, which had been playing two games a week steadily, was to
+meet Logan on Wednesday at the Point.
+
+“I wish we had got them,” said Dick. “They’d give us just about the sort
+of a game we need.”
+
+“Maybe,” suggested Jack Tappen, “they’d swap dates with us if we asked
+them. They won’t get any money at the Point, you know.”
+
+“Yes, they will,” piped up Harold, who had come over to watch practice
+at Dick’s invitation. “They pass a hat around and sometimes get ten or
+twelve dollars.”
+
+“Anyway, I don’t care to do a thing like that,” said Dick. “It wouldn’t
+be exactly square, I guess.”
+
+“I’ll tell you what!” exclaimed Harold.
+
+“Go ahead,” said Jack. “You’re full of information, kid.”
+
+“Well,” said Harold, pausing long enough to regard Jack with a look of
+disdain, “why don’t you play them in the morning?”
+
+“By jove!” said Lanny.
+
+“‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!’” murmured Jack. “Kid,
+you’re all right!”
+
+“We might,” pondered Dick. “They’re coming over anyway, and I dare say
+they’d just as lief come in the morning as later. I’ll get hold of that
+captain of theirs this evening and see what he says.”
+
+“Tell ’em we’ll pay their fares both ways,” suggested Will Scott.
+
+“Sure thing; and buy them a lunch,” agreed Way.
+
+“They’ll do it,” said Gordon. “Make the game at ten-thirty, Dick.”
+
+“Better say eleven. They could hardly get over here before half-past
+ten. Well, I’ll get after them as soon as I get home. Harold, you are a
+youth of ideas!”
+
+And Harold smiled proudly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS
+
+
+That was just about the busiest week for Dick that he ever remembered
+spending. In the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter to be seen and
+Mr. Potter’s newest schemes to be considered. And, after that, for
+nearly three hours, he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter’s
+room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley slaves. All the
+hard work wasn’t the younger boy’s, either, for Dick had to do a lot of
+studying in order to maintain with dignity his rôle of teacher. It would
+never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him napping! The younger
+boy’s capacity for study was a revelation to Dick, and his progress a
+source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week Dick could,
+and did, assure himself that the battle was won! That unless Harold had
+an almost total lapse of memory when he was put through examinations he
+could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course cramming is not the best
+means of learning, and much of what Harold learned that summer he was
+bound to forget later, but Dick hoped that the forgetting would not come
+until he had passed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and
+relief when Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in
+what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her
+gratitude, or the expression of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.
+
+After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one
+o’clock Dick had two hours to himself. Or he had unless the
+indefatigable Mr. Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce
+progress or to present a problem to be solved. At four there was
+practice at the field. In the evenings Dick very often had to go over
+the next day’s lessons, a task more often than not interrupted by the
+visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all three. Tuesday
+evening not only that trio but Morris Brent as well descended upon him.
+Morris had at last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost
+imperceptible limp. The doctor assured him that the limp would leave him
+in a week or so, and Morris, an ardent football enthusiast, was already
+talking punts and drop-kicks.
+
+Since Logan had readily consented to play a game with Clearfield at
+eleven o’clock the next morning, and since Dick’s services would be
+needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been
+postponed until Wednesday evening. Dick hadn’t the heart to ask Harold
+to give up seeing Logan and Rutter’s Point play in the afternoon. And so
+when the visitors announced their presence that evening by a series of
+loud whistles from the gate Dick closed his books regretfully, knowing
+that he would have to sit up very late after his callers had gone.
+
+They sat out on the porch and talked of many things while the crickets
+and katydids chirped and fiddled in the darkness. It had been decided
+that Tom was to pitch only three innings of the morning’s game and that
+Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep Tom fresh for the big
+game on Saturday. To equalize matters, Logan was to pitch her third
+baseman against Clearfield so that she might save her regular box artist
+for the afternoon contest. They discussed this and other features of the
+morrow’s battle, and then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted
+to the Saturday’s event. Fudge was filled with excitement these days and
+stuttered like an empty soda fountain whenever the subject was broached.
+
+“Jordan and Fillmore’s window is f-f-f-full of flags and p-p-pennants,”
+announced Fudge. “It looks s-s-s-swell!”
+
+“It’s sort of one-sided, though,” said Lanny. “They ought to put up some
+Point flags too.”
+
+“I don’t suppose there are any,” answered Gordon. “They haven’t any
+regular color over there, have they?”
+
+“Sure; blue and yellow. It’s a funny combination, but some of the girls
+out at the Point have made some flags and they say they look mighty
+well.”
+
+“Mr. Potter told me to-day,” remarked Dick, “that he’s hired four kids
+to sell flags at the field. He got Jordan and Fillmore to make up two
+hundred of them for him. He can certainly think of more things to do!”
+
+“Those are probably the flags they have in their window,” suggested
+Lanny. “What are they like, Fudge?”
+
+“J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have just a C instead of
+C. H. S. on them. They’re s-s-swell!”
+
+“You told us that before,” said Gordon. “I guess Potter will be stuck
+with about a hundred and fifty of his two hundred.”
+
+“I don’t believe he will. Say, why didn’t we think of doing that,
+fellows? We might have made a lot of money.” And Lanny looked almost
+accusingly at Dick.
+
+“I don’t see that we need any more money,” replied the manager. “We’ll
+have so much as it is that we’ll have to open a bank account. I’m scared
+to death to have it in the house.”
+
+“How much have we got now?” asked Lanny.
+
+“Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell you my scheme for
+using it, Lanny?”
+
+“Yes,” was the unenthusiastic reply. “But I don’t believe——”
+
+“It’s a dandy scheme,” interrupted Gordon quickly. “We—we’ll talk it
+over some day, after this game’s over with. No use trying to think of
+anything else right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile
+book any?”
+
+“No, I haven’t had a minute’s time. No hurry, is there? I’ve about
+decided to wait another month or so and get one of the next year’s
+models. I’ve already got almost two dollars laid by toward it.”
+
+“Well, don’t buy a cheap car,” laughed Lanny. “Get—get one like
+Morris’s.”
+
+The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by Morris. “Yes, but don’t
+break a leg with it,” he exclaimed. Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed
+loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness of the porch
+with a puzzled look on his face. He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a
+kick at Lanny’s shin and, judging from Lanny’s pained contortions
+immediately afterward, Dick fancied that Gordon’s aim had been true. For
+over a week now Dick had been aware that some project was under way by
+the others that he was purposely excluded from. What it was he couldn’t
+imagine, but that it had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More
+than once he had seen warning glances sent from one fellow to another
+and quite often a remark had been cut short at his approach. That the
+mystery concerned him particularly Dick did not suspect, however. And
+just now he had too many things on his mind to allow of much
+consideration of it.
+
+“You really ought to read that book, though,” said Gordon. “Oughtn’t he,
+Morris?”
+
+Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, “You really ought, Dick!”
+and Lanny murmured something about it being well to know such things.
+
+“Look here,” exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half in earnest, “if you
+fellows don’t quit nagging me to read that book I’ll—I’ll pitch it out
+the window! What the dickens do I want to learn about running an
+automobile for? Are you fellows dippy?”
+
+There was complete silence until Lanny said: “You never can tell, Dick,
+when you might be called on to—to profit by the—er——”
+
+“Oh, certainly,” responded Dick with sarcasm. “Most any old day I might
+get the offer of a chauffeur’s job! Or maybe you fellows are going to
+save up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!”
+
+“Ha, ha!” said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled. Gordon had a fit of
+coughing. Morris became intensely interested in the stars seen through
+the vines.
+
+“You’d make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick,” laughed Gordon finally.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Why—er—just because,” replied Gordon flatly. “Say, I’ve got to be
+going home, fellows. You coming my way?”
+
+The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm for departure,
+and after they had clicked the little gate behind them Dick could hear
+them talking in low and excited tones as they passed up the street. He
+shook his head as he moved his crutches toward the doorway.
+
+“Either they’re all crazy,” he murmured, “or they’re trying to work some
+sort of a game on me. I wonder what it is.”
+
+But he didn’t wonder long, for the morrow’s lessons awaited him upstairs
+and when he had finished with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder
+about anything.
+
+Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the next forenoon. The
+visitors arrived nearly twenty minutes late and the game dragged. There
+was a lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to make more errors
+than its opponent. Curtis Wayland and the rival pitcher were pretty
+evenly matched and it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her
+endeavors, failed to tally as many errors as Logan that the home team
+stood three runs ahead when the contest was called to allow the visitors
+to snatch some dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn’t
+derive much satisfaction from that game, and was inclined to be downcast
+until, just before supper time, Harold telephoned over to him that the
+Point team had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered up and saw
+things more brightly. And then, scarcely two minutes later, came Gordon
+with his news.
+
+“We’ve got the field, Dick!” he cried from the sidewalk even before he
+reached the gate. “Mr. Brent is going to give it to the school! It isn’t
+going to be cut up!”
+
+“Give it to the school!” echoed Dick amazedly.
+
+“Yes! Isn’t that fine and dandy?” Gordon sprawled into a chair on the
+porch and fanned himself vigorously with his straw hat. “He’s having a
+deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes back it will be
+ours. Morris is giving it.”
+
+“Morris! How can he give it?”
+
+“Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris’s name. It’s to be called
+Brent Field. And he almost as much as promised to build us a big new
+grandstand some day! Isn’t he—isn’t he a corker?”
+
+“But—but what—how——”
+
+Gordon laughed excitedly. “I guess it was seeing us play the other day
+that did it. He said he guessed as we got so much enjoyment out of the
+field we ought to have it. He didn’t get home until nearly half-past
+four and I called at the office three times before I found him. I
+thought the first time that I’d sneak off and not come back. But I’m
+glad I did, though. I was scared to death when I went in. But he was as
+nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball and football and
+the Athletic Committee and the field we talked of getting, and
+then—then—well, then he asked me if I thought the fellows would like
+to keep the field. And I said of course they would. And then he said he
+had decided to make the school a present of it if—if I wanted him to.”
+
+“If you wanted him to!” exclaimed his hearer.
+
+Gordon nodded. “You know he told me the time I—the time I was with
+Morris when he got hurt that if I wanted anything I was to ask him for
+it. So the other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field I—I
+sort of reminded him of what he had said and told him I’d like him to
+let us use the field that day. I didn’t tell you, but that was how we
+got it. Well, to-day he said I hadn’t made the most of my opportunity,
+or something like that. He said I should have asked for the field
+outright if I wanted it. ‘Why didn’t you?’ he asked. Gee, I didn’t know
+what to say, so I just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said
+how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did for Morris that day
+and that if I’d asked him then for the field he’d have given it to me; I
+mean to the school. So I said, ‘Yes, sir, if you please,’ and he laughed
+and said: ‘All right, Merrick. I’ll have the deed made out to-morrow.
+But I want you to understand that it is Morris who is giving the field
+and not me. He’s one of you and the gift will come better from him.’ And
+then he shook hands with me and walked ’way out to the stairs with me!
+And—and say, Dick, isn’t it _great_?”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+MR. BRENT THROWS A BALL
+
+
+If that Saturday had been manufactured to Mr. Potter’s order it couldn’t
+have been finer. There was a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud
+bigger than a handkerchief to be seen. A westerly breeze, bearing the
+first hint of Autumn, cooled the ardor of the sun. Clearfield had a gala
+look as soon as the shades at the store windows were drawn in the
+morning. Touches of purple appeared everywhere. By ten o’clock the
+downtown streets began to show the incursion of visitors from the
+neighboring villages and even from the country and the stores reaped a
+small harvest. At noon Common Street in the vicinity of the field was
+well lined with sidewalk vendors of peanuts and popcorn, lemonade and
+soft drinks, while in a vacant lot near-by a hustling gentleman with a
+blue-black mustache and a yellow corduroy coat had set up a
+merry-go-round whose strident organ ground out a repertory of four tunes
+monotonously from forenoon to midnight. Small boys with purple pennants
+bearing white C’s importuned passers to show their patriotism at the
+expense of a quarter of a dollar and other small boys flaunted copies of
+the morning _Reporter_. “Line-up of to-day’s game! Here you are!
+_Reporter!_ Only two cents!”
+
+The reserved seat tickets on sale at Howland’s gave out at eleven
+o’clock, and at twelve, after a hasty conference over the telephone with
+Dick, Mr. Potter had a load of lumber and four carpenters at the field
+erecting sixty extra seats.
+
+At one, even before the last nail had been driven, the drug store
+reported that they had again sold out. “Sell fifty more,” telephoned Mr.
+Potter, “and mark them ‘Bench!’” Then he hurried to Odd Fellows’ Hall
+with a moving-van and transferred ten settees from there to the ball
+grounds and placed them in a double row all along the third base line.
+After that he threw up his hands.
+
+Shortly before noon a blue runabout, with its brass glistening radiantly
+and its newly varnished surface reflecting back the sunlight, stopped in
+front of the carriage gate at the field and honked its horn. After which
+Gordon, who rode beside the operator, jumped to the ground, climbed the
+fence and unbarred the gates from inside. Then Morris drove in, Gordon
+dropped the bar back in place and climbed into the car again and the
+blue runabout ambled across the white foul line and stopped a few feet
+from the home plate, with its glistening radiator pointed at the
+grandstand.
+
+“That’s my last ride in her,” said Morris regretfully as he got out.
+
+“Oh, I don’t know,” said Gordon. “He may give you a lift some time.”
+
+Morris smiled. “I meant the last time I’d run her,” he amended. “Gee,
+but I kind of hate to give her up, Gordon.”
+
+“She’s a nice little car,” replied the other, “even if she did try to
+break your neck for you. And she certainly looks dandy. And she runs as
+well as ever, doesn’t she?”
+
+“Better, it seems to me. I suppose she’s getting the stiffness out of
+her. Well, we’d better hike along to dinner. You’re sure your mother
+won’t mind having me, Gordon?”
+
+“She expects you. I telephoned I was bringing you. Come on.”
+
+It was long before two o’clock when the crowd began moving toward the
+field. Stewart, the liveryman, ran carriages from the station to the
+entrance and did a good business. At a few minutes before two Gordon and
+Dick and Lanny arrived. Mr. Potter was already on hand, instructing the
+two boys who were acting as ushers and keeping an eye on the amateur
+ticket seller at the gate. Tim Turner stood inside and took the tickets,
+dropping them into a tin box and looking as professional as you please.
+Dick’s gaze found the automobile the instant he was inside and he
+stopped short and stared at it. And no wonder, for a blue runabout
+placed imposingly in the center of a baseball diamond is about as
+incongruous a sight as one often sees.
+
+“Wh-what the dickens!” gasped Dick.
+
+“Oh, that?” said Gordon. “That’s the car that Morris just sold. Looks
+pretty well, doesn’t it? Come on in the dressing-room.”
+
+“But what’s it doing there?” asked Dick. “Whose is it?”
+
+“I suppose someone left it there. Gee, Dick, look at the crowd here
+already! We’ll have to have groundrules if they keep coming!”
+
+“Yes, I guess so. But—that car! It can’t stand there, Gordie!”
+
+“Of course not. It’ll be out of the way by the time we’re ready to
+practice, I dare say. There’s Tom. Come on. We’d better get changed. It
+must be almost two.”
+
+Dick followed them into the dressing-room without further remarks, but
+it was plain to be seen that the incident of the misplaced automobile
+was occupying his thoughts. Most of the team had arrived and in another
+moment Dick found enough to attend to and talk about without further
+bothering his head with the blue runabout. The Point team came in a few
+minutes later and then there was a fine confusion and noise in there.
+Everyone was in the best of spirits and there was no sign of animosity
+between the opponents. One might have thought, were it not for the
+difference in costumes, that the two dozen or so fellows were team-mates
+rather than rivals. It was the first time that most of the Clearfield
+fellows had seen the Rutter’s Point players in their new togs, and they
+had to acknowledge that the white suits and blue-and-yellow-striped
+stockings were very attractive.
+
+Of course Harold was there, score-book under arm, following Dick around
+closely. And Morris, too, in his capacity of honorary member of the
+visiting nine. Probably he would have been welcome in any case, for
+to-day was to witness the formal transfer of the field, in Morris’s
+name, from Mr. Brent to the High School. Mr. Grayson, who had arrived
+home the day before, was to attend and Morris was to deliver the deed to
+him, as a sort of added attraction. Morris, however, didn’t appear
+oppressed by his importance, a fact which his companions were quick to
+notice and approve.
+
+At five minutes past the two teams went out to the diamond, and as they
+appeared, the band, massed fourteen strong in front of the grandstand,
+broke into the triumphal strains of “See the Conquering Hero Comes.” By
+that time the stand was filled to overflowing, the extra seats were well
+occupied and the settees sprinkled, while around the diamond what looked
+to the startled gaze of the players to be a vast assemblage sat or
+stood.
+
+“Jumpin’ Jupiter!” muttered Fudge, his eyes very big and round.
+“S-s-s-say, Jack, I won’t b-b-b-be able to c-c-catch a thing!”
+
+“I guess we’ll all have stage-fright,” replied Jack Tappen, with a
+rather nervous laugh. “Who would have thought all this crowd would have
+come? And look at the gate! They’re still coming, Fudge!”
+
+“G-g-guess I’ll s-s-s-sneak home,” said Fudge.
+
+Dick was frankly puzzled. Instead of trotting into the field to begin
+practice, his charges were lounging over toward the plate, and with them
+went the Point team. Then Dick’s eyes fell on that blue runabout again,
+and he frowned and followed the players, who by this time had gathered
+about it. Harold, who never allowed Dick to get more than six feet away
+from him, went, too.
+
+“Someone will have to get that car out of here,” announced Dick
+impatiently. “Whose is it, anyway?”
+
+As the band, which had been blaring forth a twostep, stopped suddenly at
+a signal from Gordon, just in the middle of Dick’s pronouncement, he
+finished it in a voice which, owing to the silence, was audible halfway
+to the outfield. A ripple of amusement came from the nearer seats. Dick,
+embarrassed by events and by an impending something that he sensed,
+looked blankly about the grinning faces.
+
+“Wh-what’s the matter?” he faltered, appealing to Gordon.
+
+Gordon cleared his throat and took a step forward. The rest of the
+players shuffled into the semblance of a half-circle behind him and
+about the blue car. The audience, none of them in the secret but all
+suspecting interesting developments, grew very still.
+
+“Dick,” began Gordon, very red of countenance and nervous of manner,
+“we—that is——”
+
+“Go to it, Gordie,” murmured Lanny encouragingly. Gordon took a deep
+breath and another start:
+
+“The Clearfield Baseball Club, in recognition of your services as
+manager and—and in token of its esteem and——”
+
+“Respect and esteem,” prompted Lanny, _sotto voce_.
+
+——“Respect and esteem,” corrected Gordon, who had prepared his speech
+with much care and had now pretty well forgotten it, “desires to present
+to you this automobile, in the hope—er—in the hope——”
+
+“That it will provide——”
+
+“——That it will provide both comfort and pleasure. It is with much—it
+is with much——”
+
+Gordon looked imploringly at Lanny, but Lanny’s gaze was fixed blankly
+on space. He, too, had forgotten the lines! Fudge gave way to his
+nervousness and giggled. Gordon waved his hand toward the car. “And we
+hope you’ll like it,” he ended breathlessly.
+
+There was an instant’s silence, and then came a joyous screech from
+Harold. That was the signal for much hand-clapping and other evidences
+of applause from the spectators who, although Gordon’s speech had not
+been audible to them, had by this time gathered that someone was being
+presented with the natty blue automobile. Dick, rather white of face,
+smiled.
+
+“I—I——” he began. Then he faltered. When he went on his voice was
+husky. “Thank you, fellows,” he said. “I don’t see why you did it,
+but—but I appreciate it more than I can say. And—I can’t make a
+speech, so I’ll just say thank you and—you’ll have to understand that
+it means a lot more than I can put in words!”
+
+Then they cheered quite madly, being heartily glad to be over with the
+embarrassment, and flocked around him and shook hands just as though
+they hadn’t seen him for months!
+
+“‘It is with much pride that we offer this small token,’” said Lanny
+explosively in Gordon’s ear. Gordon laughed derisively.
+
+“What’s the good now?” he demanded. “Why didn’t you say that two minutes
+ago? You’re a fine one to help a fellow!”
+
+“Why didn’t you remember it yourself?” asked Lanny, in an injured voice.
+“Gee! You wrote it, didn’t you?”
+
+Morris jumped into the driver’s seat of the car and Dick, impelled by
+friendly hands, climbed in beside him. Will Scott spun the crank, the
+engine purred, and, to the cheers and laughter of the fellows and the
+enthusiastic applause of the spectators, the blue runabout chugged
+around the field and back into an angle of the grandstand, while the
+band played loudly.
+
+“I’ll show you how to run it in two days, Dick,” Morris said, as they
+circled the diamond. “You’ll find it’s as easy as anything you ever
+did.”
+
+“Did you know about it?” asked Dick curiously.
+
+“Sure. It was Gordon’s scheme; but he told me what he wanted to do and
+dad and I were strong for it.”
+
+“But—but where’d they get the money?” asked Dick.
+
+“They haven’t got it yet,” chuckled Morris. “You have it!”
+
+“I have——Oh, the baseball money!”
+
+“Surest think you know, Dick!”
+
+“Oh!” Dick gave a sigh of relief. “I was afraid they’d paid for it out
+of their pockets or—or somehow. I—I knew for two or three weeks that
+they were up to something, but I never suspected this. Say, doesn’t it
+just get there!”
+
+“She’s a fine little car,” agreed Morris proudly, as he brought it to a
+stop behind the extra seats. “And I’ll just bet you’ll be crazy about
+her, Dick, in a week!”
+
+“I guess I’m sort of crazy about her now,” murmured Dick.
+
+There was still another ceremony to be gone through with; in fact, two.
+The first was performed a minute later when Morris, taking a folded
+sheet of paper from his pocket, walked across to the front of the
+grandstand, accompanied by the players, and with a neat but brief speech
+formally presented the deed of the athletic field to Mr. Grayson. The
+principal, however, wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to indulge in
+eloquence, and his speech of thanks went on for quite five minutes. It
+was a very good speech, too, but few heard it, for the spectators out of
+ear-shot were clamoring for the game to begin. When he had finished and
+bowed and taken his seat again, there was more applause, and the bass
+drum boomed ecstatically and Gordon led three cheers for Mr. Brent, and
+at last the home team trotted on to the diamond and the visitors began
+passing and warming up at one side.
+
+By that time it was nearly the hour set for the game to begin, and
+almost every available spot on the field was occupied by spectators.
+Four of Clearfield’s modest police force were on duty in the outfield,
+patrolling back and forth, restraining the advance of the crowds which
+stretched along the continuations of the foul lines.
+
+On the “press stand,” a kitchen table and two straight-backed chairs at
+the end of the home team’s bench, stood the silver trophy on its ebony
+stand. Around the base was twined the purple silk pennant with the white
+“C.” At the “press stand” sat Mr. Potter, his straw hat tilted back on
+his head, a pile of yellow copy paper in front of him and a big cigar
+tucked in the corner of his mouth. Mr. Potter, looking proudly about the
+crowded field, was happy. Apparently all the pennants had been
+purchased, for they waved on all sides, and flashes of purple glowed
+everywhere in the sunlight; everywhere, that is to say, except in one
+small section of the main stand, where the Rutter’s Point contingent,
+some fifty strong, waved blue-and-yellow flags and cheered for their
+heroes.
+
+Dick, leaning on his crutches near first base, allowed his gaze to
+wander a minute from the work of his charges toward the crowded seats.
+There were his mother and Grace up there, and, farther along, Mr. and
+Mrs. Brent and Louise—and Morris just returning to his place beside
+them. Strangely enough, Louise happened to be looking just as Dick
+glanced her way, and nodded and waved. Dick took off his hat in answer.
+A second later he was bowing again, for Mrs. Townsend was waving her
+blue-and-yellow banner toward him.
+
+Then, presently, the home team yielded the diamond to the visitors, and
+Dick went back to the bench with them. Harold was sharpening his pencils
+as Dick took his place beside him.
+
+“Dick,” he said, in a low voice, “I hope you win.”
+
+“Thanks, Harold! That’s treachery, isn’t it, though?”
+
+Harold frowned and shook his head. “Can’t help it,” he muttered. “I do,
+anyway.”
+
+The umpires were Mr. Cochran, of the Y.M.C.A., chosen by Clearfield, and
+Mr. Vokes, who had officiated at the first game between the two teams,
+the Point’s selection. The latter gentleman was on bases and Mr. Cochran
+umpired at the plate. At twenty minutes to three Clearfield trotted into
+the field to the cheers of the audience, and Gordon, taking a nice new
+ball from Mr. Cochran, ascended the stand to where Mr. Brent sat.
+
+“Mr. Brent,” said Gordon, “we’d like very much to have you throw out the
+ball to us, sir, if you don’t mind.”
+
+“Throw out the ball!” exclaimed Mr. Brent. “How—how do I do it?”
+
+“Just stand up, sir, and toss it to Tom Haley, down there.”
+
+Mr. Brent looked doubtful, but Morris and Louise urged him on, and
+finally he got to his feet, measured the distance anxiously, clutched
+the ball with a death-like grip, and hurled it toward Tom. It went a
+yard over his head, and was fielded by Harry Bryan near second! But that
+didn’t matter! Everyone cheered just as hard!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+DICK SMILES
+
+
+                   CLEARFIELD          RUTTER’S POINT
+
+                   Bryan, 2b.          Billings, 3b.
+                   Scott, 3b.          Townsend, 1b.
+                   Merrick, 1b.        Chase, ss.
+                   Wayland, l. f.      House, c. f.
+                   Tappen, r. f.       Leary, 2b.
+                   White, c.           Northrop, r. f.
+                   Robey, ss.          Jensen, l. f.
+                   Haley, p.           Houghton, c.
+                   Shaw, c. f.         Mason, p.
+
+Gordon took his position off first base, thumped fist into glove, and
+called cheerfully across to Tom Haley:
+
+“First man, Tom! Let’s have him!”
+
+But Gordon wasn’t nearly as cool and collected as he tried to seem. He
+was conscious of the crowd, and especially of the throng that stretched
+four and five deep along the base line but a half dozen yards away. The
+noise, too, was disconcerting. He didn’t mind the bellowing of Jim House
+back of first, nor the answering shrieks of Pink Northrop behind third;
+but the steady hum and stir of the crowd gave him what was very much
+like stage fright. He almost hoped that the first hit would not come
+into his territory, for he was virtually sure that he would misplay it.
+But Gordon wasn’t the only one suffering from nervous embarrassment. Tom
+was as wild as a hawk, and if the batsmen had not been up in the air as
+well Rutter’s Point might have won the game then and there!
+
+Dick, none too self-possessed himself, in spite of the fact that on the
+bench he was practically out of the public gaze, saw that in the
+outfield Way, Jack, and Fudge were each moving restlessly about, and he
+mentally hoped that there would be no long flies for a few minutes! The
+only one of the home team who seemed absolutely self-possessed and
+unconcerned was Lanny. Lanny, behind his mask and protector, gave his
+signals calmly, and called to Tom coolly and encouragingly, holding his
+hands over the center of the plate and inviting Tom to “put it right
+here!” And Tom tried his best to follow signals, and failed lamentably.
+
+Caspar Billings went to base on balls, and Gordon took the bag. Tom
+tried one throw across, and Gordon, to his relief, caught the ball.
+While Tom had been in the act of swinging around and stepping out,
+Gordon had been sure that the ball would get by him. Caspar was playing
+it safe, however, and after Gordon threw the sphere back to Tom the
+latter gave his attention to the next batsman, Loring Townsend. Loring,
+with one strike and two balls against him, reached for a low one and
+sent it up in the air to Pete Robey. Pete caught it, juggled it, dropped
+it, and then sped it to second. Caspar, who had stopped halfway down the
+base line, turned back to the bench.
+
+With one out, Tom settled down a little. Loring Townsend stole on the
+second delivery and beat out the throw. The Point clamored for a hit,
+but the best Gil Chase could do was to trickle a slow bunt to Tom, who
+threw out the runner at first.
+
+“Two gone!” called Gordon. “Let him hit, Tom!”
+
+But Tom did the hitting himself, bumping Jim House on the elbow with his
+first ball. Jim trotted to first, and Leary came to bat. Leary ought to
+have been easy, but he landed on the very first offering and sent a fly
+into short left field. Way started with the ball and got it after a hard
+run, and the inning was over.
+
+“We got out of that mighty luckily,” muttered Gordon, as he took his
+seat beside Dick. “I guess we’ve all got nerves.”
+
+“Well, so have the others,” replied Dick. “Try to get rid of yours
+first, Gordie.”
+
+Harry Bryan waited and got his base. Will Scott, instructed to bunt and
+sacrifice, fouled two attempts, and finally went out on strikes. Gordon
+brought the stands to their feet by a bunt along first-base line which
+started well but eventually rolled into foul territory under the anxious
+gaze of Mason and Townsend. Then came a swipe that missed the ball by
+inches, then two balls, and last, with two and two, a straight one that
+Gordon liked the looks of. He found it, all right, but it dropped into
+center-fielder’s hands, and, with two down, Bryan was still anchored on
+first. A minute later he tried a steal, and was caught a yard away.
+
+In the second Tom pitched better, and Northrop and Jensen fanned.
+Houghton, the Point catcher, got a scratch hit, and reached the first
+bag but died there when Mason struck out.
+
+Clearfield did no better in her half, Wayland, Tappen, and Lanny White
+going out in order, and only Jack getting a rap at the ball.
+
+It was not until the fourth inning that things began to happen. Leary
+started the Point’s half with a sharp tap between Pete and Harry that
+put him safely on first. Then, with the Point coachers yelling like mad
+and dancing like a couple of dervishes, Tom passed Pink Northrop. With
+the three tail-enders coming up there seemed no cause for alarm. But
+Jensen laid down a nice bunt right in front of the plate, and Lanny,
+tossing aside his mask, picked it up and hurled it to third.
+Unfortunately, Will Scott had started in toward the plate, and the ball
+got to third ahead of him. By the time Way had recovered it, Leary had
+scored, Northrop was on second, and Jensen on first. The Pointers went
+wild with delight, and the blue-and-yellow flags waved in the
+grandstand. Houghton, aching for a hit, was over-anxious, and fell a
+victim to the wiles of Lanny and Tom, and there was one out. Pitcher
+Mason was no more of a batsman than the average twirler, and yet he
+managed to make it two and three before he finally put an end to the
+suspense and the inning by hitting to Harry Bryan, who tagged Jensen as
+he went past and then threw to Gordon, completing the double.
+
+For the next two innings it looked very much as though that one run
+would be enough to win the game, for Mason settled down and pitched
+air-tight ball and added four more strike-outs to his credit. Tom Haley
+was less spectacular, and yet got by without yielding a hit. He passed
+two batters and in the sixth Jensen got as far as third when Pete Robey
+fumbled Houghton’s liner. But there were no runs scored, and at the
+beginning of the seventh the score still stood 1 to 0 in the visitors’
+favor, and Clearfield already tasted defeat. But the audience shouted
+that here was the “lucky seventh,” and those fortunate to have seats
+stood up and stretched cramped limbs, and everyone shouted.
+
+In the first half of the seventh the clouds began to gather again over
+Clearfield’s head. Caspar Billings, first man up, beat out a weak hit
+and took second when Townsend sacrificed, Scott to Merrick. A moment
+later he reached third when Chase flied out to right field. Then House
+provided a half dozen attacks of heart disease when, with three balls
+and two strikes on him, he knocked fouls to nearly every point of the
+compass in his endeavor to secure a safe hit and score Caspar. But in
+the end Tom tricked him into a high fly that settled comfortably into
+Pete Robey’s glove, and again the sky cleared.
+
+“If those boys don’t win a run this time,” said Mr. Brent, almost
+crossly, “I’ll be sorry I gave them the field.”
+
+“You mean, dad, you’ll be sorry _I_ gave them the field,” corrected
+Morris, with a grin. Mr. Brent grunted.
+
+“Why don’t they bat the ball?” he demanded. “Every time one of them gets
+on a base, the others leave him there. What they ought to do is to take
+a good bang at it and send it out there beyond those fellows.”
+
+“That’s what they’re trying to do, papa,” replied Louise, “but the Point
+pitcher won’t let them. He’s a wonderful pitcher, isn’t he, Morris?”
+
+“Pretty fair. He’ll get his before the game’s over, though. See if he
+doesn’t.”
+
+“Get his what?” asked his father curiously.
+
+“Get what’s coming to him,” laughed Morris. “I mean the Clearfield chaps
+will bat him. He can’t keep this pace up much longer. I wouldn’t be
+surprised if we got after him this inning.”
+
+“Oh, I wish we might!” sighed Louise. “I wish they’d just—just _slam_
+him!”
+
+“My dear!” murmured Mrs. Brent. “That doesn’t sound very nice.”
+
+“It’s all right, mama; it’s just baseball talk.”
+
+“Even so, dear, I’m not certain,” replied her mother, “that——”
+
+But Louise didn’t hear the rest, for she was waving her purple pennant
+wildly and shrieking in a manner that Mrs. Brent must have disapproved
+of thoroughly. But she had a good excuse. Even Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+tapping his cane and breathing hard, while Morris was frankly on his
+feet, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+Jack, the first Clearfield batsman, had landed on the second ball
+pitched, and now it was rolling along the grass between right fielder
+and center, and Jack was traveling fast for second base. He drew up
+there, breathless but happy. From the stands and from the crowds along
+the edges of the diamond came shouts and cheers. At last, Clearfield was
+to tie the score!
+
+And yet even with a runner on second and only a hit necessary to bring
+in a tally, it began to look as if once more the hopes of Clearfield’s
+supporters were doomed. Lanny, determined and cool, after waiting until
+he had three balls to his credit and no strikes, tried to drop out of
+the way of a close one, only to have it hit his bat and roll fair! Mason
+fielded it to first, and there was one out. The incessant shouting from
+the spectators died away and Gordon, coaching at first, swung on his
+heel and kicked viciously at a pebble to relieve his feelings. Then,
+with Pete Robey up, there came an exchange of signals, and Jack started
+for third as the ball left Mason’s hand for the second time. It was an
+unexpected play, and it succeeded. Pete swung and missed and Houghton
+side-stepped and hurled to third. But Jack, who was a fast youth on his
+feet, was diving head-first for the bag when the ball arrived, and Mr.
+Vokes, trotting past, spread his hands. Clearfield applauded wildly.
+
+With a man on third, Rutter’s Point considered discretion the better
+part of valor, and Mason pitched out three times to Pete and Pete walked
+to first, while the home team’s supporters jeered and shouted
+disparaging remarks to Mason. A minute later Pete went to second
+unchallenged. Tom Haley was up, and Houghton had argued that Tom could
+be easily disposed of. And it seemed that he could. Tom made desperate
+swings at the first two deliveries, and you could have heard the sighs
+of despair that came from the anxious watchers on the seats. Then,
+heeding the coachers’ voices at last, Tom got his eye on the ball and
+watched idly while Mason sped two wide ones past him. Then he tried
+again and a foul resulted, Houghton getting his hands on it at the edge
+of the stand but dropping it. A third ball narrowly escaped being a
+strike, and Gordon cried: “That’s waiting, Tom! Let him walk you; he’ll
+do it in a minute!”
+
+And he would have, for the next delivery was inches wide of the outer
+corner of the plate, but Tom reached out eagerly, got that ball on the
+tip of his bat and sent it arching up in a low fly that fell three feet
+inside the first-base foul line and just out of the reach of the three
+fielders who raced after it! In trotted Jack, scoring the tying run, and
+in sped Pete Robey, close on his heels, while Clearfield went mad with
+delight and the purple pennants waved on high. Pete beat the throw to
+the plate by inches, but Tom, trying to reach second on the throw-in,
+was less fortunate and fell victim to a fine heave from Houghton to
+Leary.
+
+Dick motioned Fudge to him. “We want another run, Fudge,” he said
+softly. “Mason will be up in the air now. Make him think you’re anxious
+to hit. Move up in the box and swing your bat; try to look nervous——”
+
+“I don’t have t-t-t-to try,” muttered Fudge.
+
+“Never mind. Make him think you’ll offer at anything, but _don’t_ swing
+but once. Pick out a wide one and swing at it, Fudge, but be careful not
+to hit it. If you work it right, he will pass you sure as shooting! Now,
+go ahead.”
+
+Harold Townsend, so excited that he hadn’t scored a thing since Jack’s
+two-bagger, looked at Dick in open admiration. “I guess that’s what they
+call ‘inside baseball,’ isn’t it, Dick?”
+
+“I don’t know,” was the reply. “It’s what I’d call horse-sense. I hope
+it works, anyhow!”
+
+With two out and the bases empty the scoring was apparently over, and
+the Pointers were doubtless already occupying their thoughts with the
+task before them of overcoming that one-run lead when they at last
+returned to their positions.
+
+“Last man, Mel!” called Billy Houghton. “Let’s have him!” Then Billy
+signaled for a straight one. But Mason, as Dick had predicted, was a bit
+flustered. The straight one came over too low and was a ball. He tried
+it again, and another ball resulted. Houghton returned the sphere with a
+slow and cautioning toss, and then spread his fingers for a curve. The
+curve came, went wide, and Fudge, as nervous as a wet hen, made a mighty
+swing at it, missing it by six inches and winning a laugh from the
+spectators. Then he walked to the pitcher’s end of the box and
+flourished his bat, and seemed to be daring Mason to put one where he
+could get it. Houghton signaled for a curve once more, for he figured
+that Fudge was in a condition to offer at anything that came. And Mason,
+winding his fingers none too carefully about the ball, let drive with
+it, and was properly surprised when Fudge made no offer!
+
+Then Houghton woke up. The score was three balls and one strike. He
+signaled for one over the plate, and it came. “Strike!” called Mr.
+Cochran. On the bench Dick watched anxiously. If Fudge could get his
+base, he reasoned, Harry Bryan would be up, and, in the present
+disgruntled state of mind of the Point players, errors were likely to
+result. On the mound Mason was shaking his head at Houghton’s
+instructions. He had no doubt that he could put the third strike over,
+but he preferred to make the batter fan. Houghton signaled again, Mason
+wound up, and the ball traveled forward. It had a jump on it, if ever a
+ball did, and that jump was Mason’s undoing. Fudge never moved as the
+ball passed him, only turned inquiringly toward the umpire. The latter
+nodded. “Take your base,” he said.
+
+Billy Houghton ejaculated an amazed “_What?_” and Mason disgustedly
+kicked up the dust, but Fudge, grinning toward the bench as he passed,
+trotted to first. Rutter’s Point suddenly awakened to the fact that
+perhaps the trouble was not yet over, after all!
+
+Nor was it. Harry Bryan found something to his liking, and banged it
+head-high across the diamond toward Billings. Caspar knocked it down,
+fumbled it, and then threw too late to Townsend. Harry was safe on first
+and Fudge on second. Clearfield yelled like wild Indians, and the crowd
+swayed and threatened to push on to the field. Then began a panicky five
+minutes.
+
+Fudge danced around at second and Bryan at first. The coachers shouted
+and leaped, and the crowd kept up an incessant thumping of feet and a
+steady roar of voices. Up in the main stand, Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+hugging his cane and leaning forward from the very edge of his seat.
+Louise had her purple pennant twisted into a hard knot, and Morris was
+talking hoarsely to himself or whoever might be listening. “Take a good
+lead, Shaw!” he directed. “Look out, Bryan! He almost got you! Here we
+go, fellows! Here we go!” Of course, neither Fudge nor Harry heard him,
+but Morris never thought about that. Morris was running that game for
+himself just then.
+
+Dick whispered a few words to Jack Tappen, and Jack sped to first and
+whispered a few words to Gordon. And Gordon turned his head inquiringly
+toward the bench, caught Dick’s emphatic nod, and renewed his shouting.
+
+“What did you tell him, Dick?” asked Harold, in a low voice.
+
+Dick smiled. “You wait and see, Harold,” he said.
+
+Will Scott was up now, with one ball to his credit. Mason had made three
+attempts to catch Bryan napping at first, and now he directed his
+attention to the batsman again. A waister went for a strike, a wide one
+followed and scored the second ball, and then Mason wound up once more
+and shot his arm out. And as he did so Fudge leaped away toward third,
+Bryan sped for second, and a cry of “There he goes!” went up from the
+visitors’ bench. Will Scott glued his eye to that ball, swung and missed
+it. Houghton made a desperate attempt to cut off the runner at third,
+but failed, and bedlam broke loose. Mr. Potter knocked the silver trophy
+off its base in his excitement, and only caught it at the edge of the
+“press-stand” table. Harold kicked his legs in air and tossed his
+score-book up. Mr. Anthony Brent nearly broke his walking-stick. Morris
+challenged everyone within hearing to deny that that was the prettiest
+double steal that had ever been pulled off. Louise clapped her hands
+until her palms ached and her white gloves threatened to rip. And some
+six hundred other folks did whatever it occurred to them to do, and did
+it just as noisily as they knew how!
+
+Dick Lovering, Manager of the Clearfield Baseball Club, only smiled
+quietly and made little marks in his score-book.
+
+A minute later Scott was perched on first base, Mason having been
+totally unable to locate the plate, and Gordon faced the pitcher. Bases
+full, two out, and the captain at bat! Well, it was a fine situation, no
+matter what might come of it. The Point infield crept toward the plate.
+Everyone talked loudly to the pitcher, as much, perhaps, to tranquilize
+his own nerves as to encourage Mason. Mason, it seemed, needed
+encouragement. He was palpably unstrung, and the first ball he pitched
+proved it, for it was as wild as a shooting-star, and if Billy Houghton
+had not leaped sidewise and sprawled on his elbow it would have been by
+him and let in a run. But Billy stopped it, and Fudge scuttled back to
+safety at third.
+
+Mason worked a slow ball over for a strike on the next attempt, and that
+seemed to settle him somewhat. Gordon let one go by and found he had
+judged it correctly. Then a foul back of first base made the standing
+two and two. The noise had diminished, and now an almost breathless
+silence enveloped the field. Only the voices of the coachers were to be
+heard.
+
+“Oh, come on, Fudge! Take a lead! That’s better! Hold it! On your toes,
+everyone! Look out for a passed ball now! Here’s where we score a few!”
+
+“Pick out a good one, Cap! Make him pitch to you! Here it is! Here it
+is!”
+
+But Gordon refused to offer at it, and, “Ball!” announced the umpire.
+
+“It’s got to be good, now, Gordie!” yelled Jack. “Lean on it! Lean on
+it! Make it a homer, Cap!”
+
+Mason wound, unwound, sped the ball toward the plate, bat and ball met
+and a sudden swelling pæan of joy went up as the spectators leaped to
+their feet and craned their necks. But Gordon, speeding down the
+first-base line, and the other runners, spurning the dust between bags,
+slowed up and turned disappointedly back. The hit had gone foul by
+several yards. A brand-new ball was thrown to the pitcher, and Gordon
+picked up his bat again, waited until the runners had regained their
+bases, and then once more faced Mason.
+
+That new white ball looked good to him! What he feared most now was that
+Mason would pitch a bad one and that he would have to take his base on
+balls. To be sure, that would force in another run, but Gordon wanted
+more than that. Something told him that if Mason put one over he could
+hit it! Perhaps it would have been well if Mason had sacrificed a run
+and passed the Clearfield captain, but Mason couldn’t be expected to
+know what was to happen. He wanted to strike the batsman out and end a
+deplorable inning, and Billy Houghton wanted the same thing. And so
+Billy spread his hands wide and Mason was just a bit more careful than
+usual and the ball sped forward fast and straight. And Gordon felt his
+heart jump as he saw what was coming. Every muscle tightened, his bat
+swung sharply, there was a _crack_ that was easily heard outside the
+field where an eager army of small boys had their eyes glued to all
+available cracks and knot-holes, and Gordon was racing for first!
+
+Over Leary’s upstretched glove traveled the ball into the outfield. Jim
+House made a desperate effort to get it on the bound, missed it, whirled
+and scuttled back toward the fence. It was Pink Northrop, right fielder,
+who finally recovered it and threw it frantically in to second baseman.
+But by that time three joyous youths had crossed the plate and Gordon
+was sliding, in a cloud of dust, to third. And he might have kept his
+feet, at that, for poor Caspar, seeing the game slipping away, muffed
+the throw. Gordon had come through with a clean three-bagger! The score
+stood five to one! The “lucky seventh” had proved itself!
+
+[Illustration: “The Lucky Seventh had proved itself”]
+
+The inning ended two minutes later when Way was
+an easy out, shortstop to first, and Rutter’s Point again took up the
+bat. But four runs was a desperate handicap to overcome, and Tom Haley,
+encouraged by success, pitched the best ball of his career. To be sure,
+Rutter’s Point did score once more, in the first of the ninth, Caspar
+Billings slamming out a two-bagger much too hot for Pete Robey to handle
+and sending Jensen across the plate. And after that Townsend got to
+first on an error by Will Scott, and the Point, with Gil Chase at bat,
+tried heroically to pull the game out of the fire by a ninth-inning
+rally. But Tom was not to be trifled with, and Chase finally went out on
+a long fly to center, which Fudge, making the most of his second chance
+of the game, pulled down without a tremor!
+
+And then the band crashed forth into a triumphant march, the stands
+emptied, the field was flooded with laughing, satisfied spectators,
+cheers were given and answered, and, surrounded by a dense throng of
+enthusiastic admirers, Gordon and Dick and the others tried to hear Mr.
+Potter’s speech as he presented to them the silver cup and the silken
+pennant. That speech appeared in full in Monday’s _Reporter_, together
+with three columns of descriptive matter and a detailed story of the
+game; but no one heard it now.
+
+Five minutes later, Dick, the trophy held on his knees, sat in the blue
+runabout, and, with the triumphant Clearfield nine following behind, was
+paraded thrice around the field, Morris acting as charioteer. And the
+crowd, loitering behind to miss none of the fun, scuttled aside and
+cheered and waved purple flags.
+
+Last of all, with a score-book somewhat the worse for wear clutched
+tightly under his arm, strode Harold, adding his shrill cheers to the
+general tumult.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+“THE LUCKY SEVENTH”
+
+
+On a crisp and sunny Saturday morning, a fortnight after the game, a
+blue runabout automobile came quietly and circumspectly along Troutman
+Street, under the yellowing maples, and, with two gruff toots of its
+horn, slowed down and came to a stop in front of the Merricks’ gate. As
+the driver of the car slid the gears into neutral and kicked off the
+switch at the battery, a look of relief succeeded the somewhat strained
+and anxious expression he had worn. I think he even sighed his
+satisfaction as he relaxed his grasp of the steering wheel and looked
+toward the doorway. Along the running-board on the driver’s side of the
+car lay a pair of crutches, held in place by an ingenious contrivance of
+heavy wire.
+
+After that, there is no use trying to longer conceal the identity of the
+boy at the wheel. It was Dick. A week of instruction by Morris and a
+second week spent in operating alone had made him a fairly competent
+driver, but he had not yet passed the stage where a corner was something
+to be approached with vast anxiety and to be negotiated with care and
+deliberation. Every inch of the blue varnished surface of the car shone
+resplendently, and every particle of brass was polished until it was
+painful to view.
+
+Two more blasts of the grumpy horn at last produced results. The screen
+door flew open, and Gordon, a piece of toast in one hand and a napkin in
+the other, appeared.
+
+“Say, what time do you think it is?” he demanded laughingly.
+
+“It’s time you were through breakfast, anyway,” responded Dick. “Get a
+hustle on. _Eli_ hates to stand.” (Dick had named the car _Eli Yale_
+because of its color, but generally referred to it as _Eli_.)
+
+“I’ll bring a lump of sugar for him,” said Gordon. “Keep a tight rein on
+him, Dick, and I’ll be with you in five minutes. Maybe he will stand
+long enough for you to come in and have a cup of coffee.”
+
+“I wouldn’t dare risk it,” replied Dick gravely. “Besides, I never take
+coffee in the middle of the forenoon.”
+
+“Middle of the forenoon!” grunted the other. “It isn’t half-past eight
+yet! Since you got that car, you never go to bed at all, I guess!”
+
+Gordon vanished with that, and Dick leaned comfortably back in the
+runabout to wait. But an instant later a speck of tarnish on the dash
+clock—a gift from Louise Brent—caught his eye, and he whisked a piece
+of cheesecloth from a pocket on the inside of the door and attacked it
+indignantly. Before he had conquered it, returned the cloth and buttoned
+the flap again, Gordon appeared once more, capped and ready for the
+ride.
+
+“All set?”
+
+Dick looked carefully at levers and switch. “All set,” he said.
+
+Gordon turned the handle half over, and _Eli_ broke into a frantic
+chugging that could be heard six blocks away. Dick pushed back the
+throttle and pulled down the spark, however, and _Eli_ moderated his
+transports. Gordon, who had clapped his hands to his ears, grinned as he
+climbed in beside Dick and slammed the door. “Gee,” he said, “but he’s
+some noisy!”
+
+“Not at all,” denied Dick indignantly. “He naturally chortles a little
+at times.”
+
+“Oh, was he chortling? I thought he was champing his bit. Hello, see
+who’s here!” added Gordon, as the car swayed across B Street. A lusty
+shouting was heard, and Fudge came racing along the sidewalk. Dick
+stopped.
+
+“W-w-where you going?” panted Fudge. “Take me, too, Dick. You haven’t
+given me a ride yet!”
+
+“All right,” laughed Dick. “Open the door and sit on the edge there,
+Fudge. But don’t drag your big feet and stop the car.”
+
+“Go get your cap,” advised Gordon.
+
+“Don’t need a cap. Where are you going?”
+
+“Oh, just for a ride,” replied Dick, throwing in his clutch again after
+a calculating survey of the empty street.
+
+“The Springdale road’s pretty good,” suggested Gordon, with a wink at
+Fudge.
+
+“I thought I’d run out toward the Point,” said Dick carelessly. “You
+don’t meet many teams that way.”
+
+“By the way,” asked Gordon, “when do they move in?”
+
+“Who?” Dick inquired.
+
+“The Brents, of course.” Fudge giggled.
+
+Dick laughed. “Who said anything about the Brents, you idiot?”
+
+“No one; only you spoke of going to the Point. You can drop Fudge and me
+at the hotel. We don’t want to be in the way.”
+
+“Oh, you run along and play!” said Dick good-naturedly. “If you really
+want to know when they’re coming back to town, I’ll tell you. They’re
+going to move in next Wednesday. Morris says it’s too hard to get to
+school on time. And since football practice has begun——” Dick broke
+off to negotiate a corner.
+
+“Morris is crazy to think he can play this Fall,” said Fudge. “He will
+bust his leg again. You’ll see.”
+
+“He’s going to try, anyway,” said Gordon. “They’re going to mark out the
+gridiron this morning, Dick.”
+
+“That so? Oh, by the way, I heard from Harold. I’ve got his letter here
+somewhere. Steady the wheel a minute, Gordie, will you?” Dick drew forth
+an envelope from his pocket and handed it across. “Read it aloud.”
+
+  “‘Dear Dick,’” read Gordon, “‘I passed all right. Only I have got to
+  do some extra Math this term. I was sort of rotten on Math. Old
+  Penny (he’s the principal) says I did better than lots of fellows
+  who come here. Loring said I was to thank you, and I do awfully,
+  Dick. You were fine and dandy to me, and I am sorry I was such a
+  rotter at first. And I am very sorry about the Math. It wasn’t your
+  fault, Dick. Please remember me to the fellows, and tell them I am
+  coming back next year. I am going out for the junior baseball team
+  next week and maybe next summer I can play for you, Dick, if you
+  want me. Loring says remember him to you, and so no more at present
+  from your firm friend,
+                                                             Harold.’”
+
+“‘Firm friend’ is pretty good,” commented Gordon, as he folded the
+letter up and returned it to its envelope. “But I’m glad the kid passed,
+if only on your account, Dick.”
+
+“Yes; if he had failed, I’d have felt sort of mean about taking the
+money. Speaking of money, fellows,” he continued, as the runabout slid
+across the trolley tracks and headed toward Rutter’s Point, “Mr. Potter
+sent me the statement this morning. I didn’t bring it, though.”
+
+“How did we come out?” asked Gordon. “About the way we figured?”
+
+“Nearly forty dollars better. There were six hundred and thirty-three
+paid admissions to the game, amounting to four hundred and three
+dollars. The total expenses were, I think, sixty-one dollars; or maybe
+they were sixty-three. Anyway, the net profits amount to three hundred
+and forty-two dollars. That includes four dollars and something made on
+the pennants sold.”
+
+“Peanuts?” exclaimed Fudge. “I didn’t know we——”
+
+“Pennants, stupid!” corrected Gordon. “Well, that’s doing pretty well,
+Dick. Then, after paying for the car, we have money left?”
+
+“Over fifty dollars,” was the reply. “What shall we do with it?”
+
+“G-g-give it to me,” suggested Fudge.
+
+“I think you ought to have it for gasoline and tires,” laughed Gordon.
+“This thing will keep you poor, I’m afraid, Dick.”
+
+“No, sir,” replied the owner of the car seriously. “I’m studying up on
+autos, and I’m going to make my own repairs. And I’ve sent for a
+vulcanizing outfit that only costs three dollars and a half. When I get
+that I can fix my own tires. As for gasoline, why, _Eli_ only drinks a
+gallon every twenty miles! And I don’t run that far in three days! I
+think it would be a good plan to hand over what we have left to the
+Athletic Committee, Gordie. They’ll need a lot of money now that we own
+the field. We’ll have to pay the taxes and for water and other things.”
+
+“That’s right. As far as I’m concerned——”
+
+“Remember this place?” interrupted Dick.
+
+Gordon nodded. “Yes; that’s where Morris steered the car into the fence
+and me into the bushes.”
+
+“It’s where you became a blooming hero,” said Fudge.
+
+“Hero, nothing! What I did didn’t amount to a row of pins!”
+
+“Well, it amounted to the gift of an athletic field to the school,” said
+Dick, with a smile. “That’s something, you know!”
+
+“And it amounted to something else, t-t-too,” added Fudge. “It made
+Morris a respectable member of s-s-s-society!”
+
+“What beautiful expressions you do use, Fudge!” laughed Gordon.
+
+“Fudge is right, though,” agreed Dick, when he had carefully steered the
+car around a wagon. “Morris is a heap more—more likable than he was
+last year. Whether it was the accident——”
+
+“It jarred some of the nonsense out of him, perhaps,” said Gordon.
+“Although, for that matter, Dick, maybe you like him better for other
+reasons.”
+
+“Humph!” said Dick, with a suspicious sidelong glance. Fudge chuckled.
+
+“Even you and Morris’ father seem to be getting quite chummy,” pursued
+Gordon, “while as for Mrs. Brent, why, she’s absolutely spoony about
+you!”
+
+“Go ahead and enjoy yourself,” said Dick. “I don’t mind your ravings.
+Looks as though they were getting ready to close the hotel, doesn’t it?”
+he added, as they took the corner cautiously and turned into the shore
+road.
+
+“I should think they would. About everyone has gone. Did I tell you what
+Caspar Billings said at the station the other day?”
+
+“I don’t think so. What was it?”
+
+“He said he was going to send circulars of the hotel to all the prep
+schools next Spring, so he could get up a nine that would beat us next
+summer and get that pennant back!”
+
+“L-l-let him!” sputtered Fudge. “We’ll be ready for them!”
+
+“Yes, indeed, for we’ll have Mr. Harold Townsend playing for us,” said
+Gordon. “By the way, Dick, we’d better put him in center field, don’t
+you think?”
+
+“Certainly.”
+
+“That’s all r-r-right!” exploded Fudge. “P-p-put him there! I’m going to
+p-p-p-play in the infield next s-s-s-summer! I’m g-g-going——”
+
+But Fudge’s remarks were drowned by the sudden croaking of the horn as
+the blue runabout approached the Brents’ cottage.
+
+“There’s Morris on the porch,” said Dick, adding another dismal warning.
+
+“Yes, and—am I mistaken, or is that—— My sight isn’t what it used to
+be, Fudge. Look and tell me if that is Louise on the steps.”
+
+“Dry up!” muttered Dick, turning the car toward the curb and throwing
+out the clutch.
+
+Morris and Louise came down the walk. “Some driving, that, Dick,” Morris
+applauded.
+
+“Oh, I told him what to do!” said Gordon modestly.
+
+“Good morning, Mister Manager,” greeted Louise. “Good morning, Mister
+Captain. Good morning, Mister——” She paused, at a loss.
+
+“Mister Historian,” supplied Gordon. “Fudge is writing a beautiful story
+about the game, aren’t you, Fudge? He’s going to call it——”
+
+“C-c-cut it out!” growled Fudge.
+
+“Please tell me, Fudge,” begged Louise. “What _are_ you going to call
+it?”
+
+Fudge scowled, grinned, and relented.
+
+“I’m g-g-going to c-c-c-call it,” he said, “‘The Lucky Seventh.’”
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: The Lucky Seventh
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell
+
+Release Date: June 5, 2012 [EBook #39923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
+Digital Library.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+
+
+
+By Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+  The Brother of a Hero
+  Benton's Venture
+  Around the End
+  The Junior Trophy
+  Change Signals!
+  Finkler's Field
+  For Yardley
+  The New Boy at Hilltop
+  Winning His "Y"
+  Double Play
+  Forward Pass!
+  The Spirit of the School
+  Four Afloat
+  Weatherby's Inning
+  The Half-Back
+  On Your Mark
+  Four in Camp
+  Four Afoot
+  For the Honor of the School
+  Captain of the Crew
+  Behind the Line
+  The Arrival of Jimpson
+
+D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering
+wood, and----"]
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+BY
+
+RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE BROTHER OF A HERO,"
+"BENTON'S VENTURE," ETC.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY NORMAN P. ROCKWELL
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+1915
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1915, by
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                 PAGE
+
+  I.     Gordon Gets a Letter                1
+  II.    Dick Consents                      10
+  III.   A Rich Man's Son                   28
+  IV.    The Team Elects Its Captain        43
+  V.     Dick Visits the Point              57
+  VI.    Clearfield Plays the Point         67
+  VII.   The Blue Runabout                  76
+  VIII.  Across the Gully                   87
+  IX.    Mr. Merrick Breaks a Plate         95
+  X.     Gordon Bears a Message            104
+  XI.    Fudge Scents a Secret             115
+  XII.   A Reversed Decision               126
+  XIII.  Jack Is Suspended                 141
+  XIV.   A Visit To the Invalid            150
+  XV.    On the Rocks                      163
+  XVI.   Dick Scores a Defeat              177
+  XVII.  Harold Makes a Promise            193
+  XVIII. The Live Wires--and Mr. Potter    205
+  XIX.   Mr. Potter Gets Busy              218
+  XX.    Mr. Brent to the Rescue           233
+  XXI.   Mr. Brent Telephones              246
+  XXII.  Gordon Brings Good News           261
+  XXIII. Mr. Brent Throws a Ball           271
+  XXIV.  Dick Smiles                       284
+  XXV.   "The Lucky Seventh"               302
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+  "There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood----"
+                                                         _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                            FACING PAGE
+
+  "'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge"                         54
+
+  "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"                        224
+
+  "The Lucky Seventh had proved itself"                             298
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GORDON GETS A LETTER
+
+
+When Gordon Merrick neared the corner of Troutman Street he slowed down
+his bicycle and finally drew in at the curb, putting out a foot to hold
+himself in the saddle while he deliberated. So deep in thought was he
+that when the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half asleep
+under the blue and white umbrella, he never knew of it until the
+sprinkler had drenched him from foot to knee. The driver awoke at that
+moment and, looking back, saw Gordon.
+
+"Hi, there!" he shouted. "Look out!"
+
+Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected bath, smiled.
+
+"Why?" he asked. "Are you coming back?"
+
+The joke was lost on the driver of the watering cart, however. He only
+scowled and settled back to slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glanced
+ruefully at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks of that no
+harm had been done, for it was a hot morning in early July and the
+feeling of the cool water against his leg had been decidedly pleasant.
+Evidently the incident had brought a decision in the weighty problem
+which had confronted him, for with no more hesitation he turned his
+wheel to the left and peddled on down E Street.
+
+"I'll talk to Dick about it," he said to himself. "He always knows what
+to do."
+
+The Loverings lived in the third house from the corner, one of a
+half-dozen modest abodes occupying that side of the block. All the
+houses were painted white, although differing slightly in the simplicity
+of their architecture, and all were more or less hidden from view by
+hedges of lilac or arbor-vit�. Old-fashioned white picket fences peeked
+out between the leaves of the hedges. The street itself was
+old-fashioned. Ten years before it had been in the desirable part of
+Clearfield, but since then the residential center had worked westward
+and the row of quiet, green-shuttered cottages was being closed in by
+such unsavory neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.
+
+Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened porch as the latter
+jumped from his bicycle and leaned it against the hitching-post in front
+of the little gate. "Hello, Gordie! Come on up."
+
+Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which stretched the width
+of the house. There was a table beside him which held a few flowers in a
+quaint old green vase and many books and magazines. Dick's crutches
+stood against the wall within reach, for Dick, as he put it, was "very
+fond of his crutches and never went anywhere without them." He was
+seventeen, a tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and just the
+smallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks. As Gordon came up the
+steps Dick laid down the magazine he had been reading and smiled his
+pleasant smile.
+
+"Been in the pond?" he asked, viewing the other's wet trousers.
+
+"Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are you, Dickums?"
+
+"Fine. Swell weather, isn't it? You look warm, though."
+
+"So would you if you'd been riding all over town. Say, I got a letter
+from Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think about
+it. I've got it here somewhere."
+
+"Where is Bert?" asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets.
+
+"Bridgeport, Connecticut. He's working for his uncle in some sort of a
+factory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week.
+Here it is. You'd better read it."
+
+"You do it," smiled Dick. "I'm lazy to-day."
+
+"Well, he says--Where is it?--Here we are. 'I'm sending a letter that
+came the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we're still playing
+ball and wants a game with us. I haven't answered it. What I was
+thinking was why don't you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of the
+fellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot of
+fun. Those fellows at the Point aren't anything to be scared of. You
+could get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitch
+for you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don't you?
+Anyway, you answer the letter. I'm awfully busy here and don't have much
+time for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all the
+time and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tell
+Harry Bryan when you see him that he's got my glove and is to send it to
+me because I may need it. We're getting up a team here at the factory.
+We've got a dandy pitcher and I guess they'll put me at short. Don't
+forget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.'"
+
+Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. "What do you think?" he asked.
+
+"Why, I dare say they will."
+
+"Dare say who will? Will what?"
+
+"Put Bert at short," chuckled Dick.
+
+"Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?"
+
+"Good, I'd say. I suppose," with a humorous glance at his crutches, "you
+came around to see if I'd play third base for you."
+
+"Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don't see how you can always be so
+cheerful about--about it! I couldn't."
+
+"Well, it isn't hard, Gordie, when you've had seventeen years' practice.
+Of course, if I'd been able to get around like other fellows and
+then--then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chap
+might as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don't miss much
+fun. I can't play games or run or skate or--or do a lot of things I'd
+like to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if
+I _could_--well, play third base, say, I'd do it better than the next
+chap. The beauty of it is that you can't prove I wouldn't!"
+
+"I'll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and more
+football than most of the fellows who play."
+
+"Why not?" laughed Dick. "They don't have as much time to study it as I
+do. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind
+about me. What's this Billings chap say?"
+
+"Oh!" Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope and read
+its contents. "'Mr. Bert Cable, Captain Clearfield High School Baseball
+Club, Dear Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up a ball
+team and we want games. Will you play us? We'll play on our own field or
+on yours, just as you say. Any date after July 10th will suit us,
+Wednesdays or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average about the
+same as your team, I guess. Please let me hear from you, and if there
+are any other teams around Clearfield we could play with I wish you'd
+let me know and send managers' addresses. Very truly, Caspar Billings,
+Captain, Rutter's Point Baseball Association.'"
+
+"Caspar Billings," mused Dick. "Which one of the Silk Stocking Brigade
+is he, Gordon?"
+
+Gordon smiled. "I don't remember him particularly. He's a sort of chum
+of Morris Brent, though."
+
+"That all you can say for him?" asked Dick. "I suppose Morris will play
+with the Pointers?"
+
+"I guess so. He won't be much of a help, though. He plays ball
+like--like a turtle!"
+
+"Morris says," replied Dick with his slow smile, "that he can play a lot
+better than most of you fellows and that if Bert and Tom Haley and some
+of the others weren't down on him he'd have made the team last spring."
+
+"Guff! He can't catch a ball. He's not a bad sort, Morris, if his dad
+_does_ own the town, but he's no Ty Cobb! Well, what do you think about
+getting up a team, Dickums?"
+
+"Why not? You've got plenty of fellows. Most of the school team are
+still around, aren't they?"
+
+"All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe Browne."
+
+"Where's Warner?"
+
+"I don't know. Gone away with his folks somewhere for the summer. Wish
+my folks would do that."
+
+"Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let's make up the team. Haley,
+pitch, and Lanny, catcher----"
+
+"I'll play first and Harry Bryan second----"
+
+"How about Will Scott?"
+
+"Third. Then for shortstop----"
+
+"Jack Tappen?"
+
+"N-no, he'd better play in the outfield. I'll put him down for right. I
+guess Pete Robey's the chap for short. That leaves us Way for left field
+and I guess Fudge will do for center. He can't hit much, but he can pull
+down a fly."
+
+"There you are, then. What will you call the nine? You can't be the High
+School team, I suppose."
+
+"N-no, we'll have to find a name. The Clearfield--what, Dickums?"
+
+"Rovers?"
+
+"Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs," laughed Gordon. "We might call
+ourselves the Purple Sox, only it's sort of hard to say."
+
+"Shorten it," suggested Dick. "Call yourselves the 'Purps.'"
+
+"That's worse than the Rovers! Why not just the Clearfield Ball Club?"
+
+"Why not? That's settled. Now you want a manager----"
+
+"Got one."
+
+"You have? Who?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Surest thing you know. That's partly why I came. To tell you. You see,
+I thought you'd want to know it."
+
+"Very thoughtful of you," Dick laughed. "But will you tell me how I can
+manage a ball team, you idiot?"
+
+"Why can't you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and look
+after the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make me
+captain----"
+
+"Which they will, as it's your scheme!"
+
+"It's really Bert's. But if they do I'm going to tell the other fellows
+that they've got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I do
+and you're going to be the real thing."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense about it. That's settled, then."
+
+"But, look here, I'd have to go to places with you and--and--well, you
+know, Gordie, I can't afford to do that very often."
+
+"It won't cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club.
+Besides, we'll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess.
+Now I'm going to see Lanny and talk it over with him."
+
+"Well, all right. I'll be manager if you really want me to. I'd like it.
+Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think----"
+
+"You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death," replied
+Gordon severely. "And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off
+this porch now and then. You don't get enough sunshine and fresh air."
+
+"Considering that I'm outdoors all day and sleep with my head through
+the window," laughed Dick, "that's a bit of a joke. But have your own
+way, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?"
+
+"Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I'll come over again after dinner. Rah for
+the Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DICK CONSENTS
+
+
+"The only th-thing is," said Fudge, "it's going to co-cost a heap, isn't
+it?"
+
+Fudge, whose real name was William Shaw, was fifteen years of age, had
+sandy-red hair and blue eyes and was short of stature and round of body.
+His habitual expression was one of pleased surprise, due probably to the
+fact that his blue eyes were very blue and very big. When Fudge was the
+least bit excited he stammered, but the habit was too slight to be an
+affliction, and his friends sometimes got Fudge upset in order to enjoy
+his facial contortions when the word wouldn't come promptly. It was
+Lansing White who, several years before in grammar school, had dubbed
+him Fudge. Lanny declared that "pshaw" and "fudge" meant the same thing
+and that "fudge" was more novel. At the present moment Fudge was seated
+in the apple tree which grew by the fence where the Shaws' side-yard and
+the Merricks' back-yard came together. It was a favorite retreat with
+Fudge, and he had built a shelf handy to the comfortable crotch he
+affected on which to place books and papers when, as was customary, he
+was studying his lessons there. To-day, however, as school was over for
+the summer, there were no books about and the shelf bore, instead, a
+tennis racket which Fudge had been mending when Gordon found him.
+
+"I don't see why," replied Gordon, leaning his arms on the top of the
+fence. "We've all got our High School uniforms and we've all got bats
+and mitts and things. All we'd need to spend money on would be balls, I
+guess. Of course, when we went away every fellow would have to pay his
+transportation."
+
+"M-meaning carfare?" queried Fudge. "Say, it's a peach of a scheme,
+Gordie! I wish I could bat better, though. Maybe I'll get on to it, eh?
+I guess what I need is practice." And Fudge, swinging an imaginary bat
+at an invisible ball, almost fell off the branch. "Who's going to be
+captain?" he asked when he had recovered his equilibrium.
+
+"We'll vote, I suppose," replied Gordon.
+
+Fudge grinned. "Then it'll be me. I'm awfully popular. Have you told
+Lanny yet?"
+
+"Yes, and he says if you play center there's got to be a rule that a hit
+to center field is good for only three bases."
+
+Fudge snorted indignantly. "If he ever hit a ball as far as the outfield
+he'd fall in a faint! When do we start?"
+
+"I've got to see the other fellows yet. Harry is working in his father's
+store and I don't know whether his dad will let him play."
+
+"That's so. We need him, too. He's a peach of a baseman. Who's going to
+play short?"
+
+"I want Pete Robey to," replied Gordon doubtfully. "Think he'd do,
+Fudge?"
+
+"We-ell, Pete isn't so much of a muchness. Why don't you p-put him in
+center and let me play short?"
+
+"Because a fellow has to have brains to play in the infield, Fudge,
+and----"
+
+Fudge tried to reach him with the racket, failed and, composing his
+features to an expression of grave interest, asked: "Won't it be awfully
+hard to find anyone to play first?"
+
+Gordon smiled. "Never you mind about first. Get your wheel and let's go
+around and see some of the fellows. We can catch Harry at the store if
+we hurry. I want to see Tom, too. If he won't go into it and pitch for
+us we might as well give it up."
+
+"Oh, Tom'll pitch all right," answered Fudge, dropping from the tree,
+racket in hand. "He'd rather pitch a baseball than eat. I'll meet you
+out front in two minutes."
+
+He wormed his way through the currant bushes to the garden path and
+disappeared toward the house, while Gordon, dodging the clothes lines
+strung near the rear fence, went along the brick walk and gained the
+side porch by the simple expedient of vaulting the railing. The Merrick
+house was new--most of the residences on that end of Troutman Street
+were--and was mildly pretentious. Mr. Merrick was a lawyer and
+comfortably well-to-do. The family had lived in Clearfield for six
+generations and had given its name to one of the principal streets in
+the downtown business part of the city. I refer to Clearfield as a city,
+and it really was, but it was not a very large city. The latest census
+credited it with something over 17,000 inhabitants. Like many New
+England cities of its kind, it owed its growth and prosperity to
+factories of various sorts. Mill River, which entered the bay two miles
+distant, flowed along the edge of the town and provided water-power for
+a number of large manufacturing plants, knitting mills, a sewing machine
+factory, a silverware factory and several others.
+
+The knitting mills were largely owned by Mr. Brent, the Honorable
+Jonathan Brent, as the Clearfield _Reporter_ usually referred to him,
+and while Gordon had spoken of Mr. Brent "owning the town," he had, of
+course, exaggerated, but still had not been very far wide of the mark.
+Mr. Brent was Clearfield's richest and its leading citizen. Besides the
+knitting mills he controlled two banks and the street railway and
+lighting service and had a finger--usually two or three fingers--in many
+other enterprises. The Brent residence, standing imposingly in a whole
+block of land, was visible, further along Troutman Street, from the
+Merricks' porch. In this, the more recently developed part of the town,
+the wide streets were lined with maples as yet too young to afford much
+shade, but a giant elm tree, which had been old long before Clearfield
+even thought of growing away from the river, stood just inside the
+Merricks' front gate and effectively screened the house from the hot
+sunlight.
+
+Gordon contented himself with putting his head inside the screen door
+and announcing in a loud voice: "Mother, I'm going downtown. Is there
+anything you want?" Mrs. Merrick's voice floated down from upstairs in
+reply: "No, dear; but please try to be on time for dinner. You know your
+father dislikes----"
+
+But Gordon didn't hear the rest of it. He didn't need to. He knew what
+his father disliked. His father disliked having him late for his meals,
+disliked his going out in the evenings, disliked--oh, so many things!
+Gordon sighed as he mounted his wheel. Life was really extremely
+difficult at times!
+
+He was a well-built, athletic youth of fifteen years, with a pleasant,
+clean-cut face, dark brown eyes and hair and a well-tanned skin. He
+looked very much alive and rather enthusiastic, just the sort of a boy,
+in short, to undertake and carry through successfully such an enterprise
+as the formation of the Clearfield Baseball Club.
+
+Fudge was waiting for him around the corner, and they set off together
+in search of Tom Haley. Tom lived in what folks called the East End,
+which was that section of the town near the railroad largely inhabited
+by workers in the mills and factories. Tom's father was a foreman in the
+sewing-machine works, and the family occupied a tiny story-and-a-half
+cottage so close to the railroad tracks that it shook whenever the
+trains passed. Fortunately they found Tom at home, very busily engaged
+repairing the front steps, surrounded by carpenter's tools and three
+junior members of the Haley family. He rescued the chisel from Tille,
+aged four, deprived the baby of a handful of nails, told George, aged
+six, to stop sawing the chair leg, and greeted his visitors.
+
+Tom was sixteen, big, broad-shouldered and raw-boned, with an angular
+face and high cheek-bones liberally speckled with freckles. At present
+he was minus coat and vest and wore a pair of blue overalls. "You kids
+get in the house now," he instructed the suddenly silent trio of
+youngsters, "and tell your mother to keep you in there, too. You've
+bothered me enough. Shoo, the whole lot of you!"
+
+They went, with many backward glances, and Tom cleared a space on the
+edge of the unrailed porch for Gordon and Fudge. "Say, it's some warm,
+isn't it? What you fellows up to to-day? Going to the pond?"
+
+"No, we're calling on you," replied Fudge.
+
+"Much obliged. What's the game?"
+
+"Baseball," said Gordon. "We're getting up a team to play the Rutter's
+Point fellows and we want you to join, Tom."
+
+"I don't mind, if there isn't much practice. There's a lot to be done
+around the house here this summer. We're going to shingle next week, and
+after that we'll paint. Who's on the team?"
+
+Gordon explained all about it, read Bert Cable's letter and Caspar
+Billings' and told Tom the line-up of the nine as he had planned it.
+
+"Sounds all right," said Tom. "When are you going to start?"
+
+"Right away. If you'll pitch for us we'll be all right. I'll answer
+Billings' letter and tell him we'll meet him a week from Wednesday.
+That'll give us a whole week for practicing."
+
+"All right, I'm with you, only don't expect me to practice much, Gordon.
+I'm pretty busy. I'll come out a couple of times, though; say--let me
+see--say Friday and Monday. Going to use the school field?"
+
+"Yes. I don't suppose anyone will object?"
+
+"Don't see why they should. You'd better see Mr. Grayson, though."
+
+"I will. No, that will be up to Dick. He's going to be manager."
+
+"Dick Lovering?" asked Tom, in surprise. "Well, I don't see why not. He
+can get around all right. Have you asked him?"
+
+"Yes, and he said he would. The only thing is, Tom, we'll have to pay
+his expenses if we go away from home very far. I told him we would. It
+wouldn't be much if we shared it. You see, Dick doesn't have much money.
+I guess they're pretty hard-up. His father only left them that house
+they're in and a little insurance money, and of course Dick can't do
+much to earn any."
+
+"He told me the other day," said Fudge, "that he was trying to get work
+tutoring this summer over at the Point. He could do that finely if he
+could find anyone to toot. Hope he does. Dick's a peach."
+
+"Then we'll have first practice Wednesday, the rest of us, and we'll
+look for you Friday, Tom. I've got to catch Harry before he goes home.
+Maybe his father won't let him off. If he won't we'll be in a bad way
+for a second baseman."
+
+"If you hold practice late--say, half-past four--I guess Harry could get
+there," said Tom. "And we wouldn't play more than twice a week, I
+suppose. Who else are you going after besides the Pointers?"
+
+"I don't know. Maybe Lesterville. They've got a pretty good club over
+there. I guess we can find games enough, Tom."
+
+"I suppose the Springdale team has disbanded," said Tom. "I'd like to
+get another whack at those fellows!"
+
+"So would I," Gordon agreed. "We never should have lost that last game,
+Tom. We all played like idiots, though. Six errors is going some!"
+
+"It was an off-day with me, all right," grumbled Tom. "I couldn't put
+'em over the plate to save my life in the last four innings."
+
+"We'll lick them at football this fall," asserted Fudge.
+
+"Bound to," agreed Tom, with a sly wink at Gordon. "Fudge is going to
+play, you know."
+
+"You bet I am!" exclaimed Fudge. "I'm going to p-p-play end. I'm
+g-g-going----"
+
+"So am I," laughed Gordon. "Right now. Come along, Fudge, and we'll hunt
+up Harry. I'm glad you'll come in with us, Tom. By the way, I suppose we
+ought to have a sort of meeting to organize pretty soon. How would it do
+if you all came to my house to-morrow evening? We'll have to choose a
+captain and--and talk things over."
+
+"Oh, you'll be captain," said Tom. "It's your scheme. Besides, who else
+is there?"
+
+"You, or Harry, or Will Scott, or----"
+
+"Shucks, they're not made for it. It'll be either you or Lansing, I
+guess. Anyway, I'll be over to-morrow, if you say so, about eight. So
+long. I've got to get these boards down before dinner."
+
+They found Harry Bryan in his father's grocery. He, too, was very busy,
+but he stopped putting up orders long enough to hear Gordon's tale, and
+was instantly enthusiastic.
+
+"I'll have to ask my dad, though," he said doubtfully. "He's keeping me
+pretty close to business," he added importantly.
+
+"What do you do, Harry?" asked Fudge. "Put the sand in the sugar?"
+
+Harry treated the insult with silent contempt. "I'll ask him to-night,
+though," he continued, "and let you know."
+
+"Telephone me, will you? We'll have practice late in the afternoon,
+Harry. You wouldn't have to get away until after four."
+
+"I know. I guess he will let me. He ought to." Harry observed the yellow
+slips in his hand somberly. "I've been working pretty hard, I tell you."
+
+"I should think," suggested the irrepressible Fudge, "that if you worked
+late to-night you could sand enough sugar to last the week out!"
+
+"Say, they're not going to let you play, are they, Fudge?"
+
+"How could they do without me?"
+
+"It'll be a peach of a nine!" jeered Harry. He was only a year older
+than Fudge, but pretended to regard that youth with amused toleration,
+and so caused Fudge deep annoyance at times.
+
+"Well, we've got eight good ones," responded Fudge sweetly. "If we could
+only find a fellow to play second base, we'd be all right."
+
+"It's a wonder they don't put you there."
+
+"Oh, I was offered the position, bu-but I didn't want it. I prefer the
+outfield. There's more re-re-responsibility there."
+
+"You're a wonder!" said Harry. "What would you do if a ball came your
+way? Hold your mouth open and try to swallow it?"
+
+"You wa-wait and see! If I co-co-couldn't catch a b-b-ball better
+th-th-than you----"
+
+"Calm yourself, Fudge! You're off your trolley again! I'll be around
+to-morrow night, Gordon. Now I'll have to get busy. Watch Fudge as he
+goes out, will you? Last time he was in he got away with three or four
+pounds of prunes."
+
+"I took three of the old th-th-th-things," said Fudge bitterly, "and
+they n-n-nearly killed me!"
+
+They left Harry surrounded by baskets, frowning over the order slips in
+his hand, and made their way back to the sidewalk and their wheels. As
+it was almost noon, Gordon decided not to risk his father's displeasure
+by seeing any more of the fellows before dinner, and he and Fudge
+pedaled home, Fudge still sputtering about those prunes.
+
+At a little after four that afternoon Gordon was back at Dick's to
+report success. All the members of the Clearfield Ball Club had agreed
+to play and to attend the organization meeting the next evening--all,
+that is, save Harry Bryan, who was to telephone later.
+
+"Now, Dickums, if you'll write to Billings and tell him----"
+
+"If _I'll_ write!"
+
+Gordon laughed. "Of course; you're the manager, aren't you?"
+
+"Humph! So I have to attend to the correspondence too, do I? It seems to
+me that you ought to write that letter. Bert sent it to you, and you're
+captain, and----"
+
+"Well, that's what I thought," responded Gordon cheerfully, "until I got
+to thinking it over. Then I remembered that you were manager, and, of
+course, managers always attend to arranging contests; and there you are.
+Just tell him we'll play his team on Wednesday the sixteenth, Dickums,
+at the Point."
+
+"All right. I might call on him and tell him about it, though, for I'm
+going over to the Point in the morning."
+
+"You are? What for?"
+
+"To get a job, I hope. You know I got them to put up a notice in the
+hotel over there for me: 'tutoring in French, Mathematics, and English;
+references; terms on request.' This afternoon a Mrs. Townsend called me
+up by telephone, and she wants me to come over in the morning and see
+about coaching her son. He's going to Rifle Point School in the Fall and
+is weak on English and Math. He's thirteen, she says. She seemed to
+think the price was all right, but she wants me to have a look at the
+youngster first. Sounded as though she was afraid I wouldn't like him.
+I'd coach a Bengal tiger if I got paid for it. I need the money,
+Gordie."
+
+"That's fine! Then why not see Billings instead of writing to him? You
+could arrange the whole thing in five minutes. Do you know where he
+lives?"
+
+"No, but they can tell me at the hotel, I guess. By the way, why do you
+want to play over there? Why not have them come over here?"
+
+"Because I saw Mr. Grayson awhile ago and asked him if it would be all
+right if we used the school field, and he said it would as far as he was
+concerned, but that he'd just got notice from Mr. Brent that they are
+going to cut the field up pretty soon for building lots. I suppose we
+could use it until they begin to build on it, but I haven't seen Mr.
+Brent yet, and I thought it would be safer to say we'd play them at the
+Point. They'll probably want another game, and then, if it's all right
+about the field, we could play them here."
+
+"But that will leave us without an athletic field!" exclaimed Dick, in
+dismay. "I thought we had a lease or something on it."
+
+"Mr. Grayson says not. Says Mr. Brent just agreed to let us use it as
+long as it wasn't needed for anything else. Now he wants it put in the
+market for house lots. Rather tough, isn't it? I guess we can find
+another field somewhere, though."
+
+"Not in town," said Dick. "We'll probably have to go across the river
+somewhere. There are plenty of fields over there, but they're as rough
+as the dickens. What did Mr. Grayson say about that?"
+
+"Nothing much. He seemed to think it was up to the Athletic Committee."
+
+"Perhaps it is, but he's principal, and----"
+
+"Shucks, he wouldn't care a lot if we didn't have a field, I guess!"
+
+"I don't think that, Gordie. Grayson's not very keen about our
+athletics, I know, but he's been pretty decent, just the same. We'll
+have to get busy right away and find a new place. The football fellows
+will want to start practice in something like two months. Does Way know
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know. I saw Grayson after I left Way. I don't believe he does,
+for he didn't say anything. He will have to get the committee together
+and have a meeting, I guess. Who's on it now?"
+
+"Aren't you?"
+
+"No, not this year. There's Way, and Harry, and Bert----"
+
+"Well, Bert can't come. I think Will Scott is on it, isn't he?"
+
+"Maybe; he probably is if Way belongs. Well, it's up to Way. I thought
+I'd ask Mr. Brent if we could keep on using the field for a while; or
+have Morris ask him. I dare say he'd be more likely to say yes if Morris
+asks him. Come to think of it, Dickums, as you're manager----"
+
+"No, you don't! I wouldn't beard old man Brent in his den for a hundred
+dollars! If I've got to do that, I'll resign!"
+
+"All right, then, I'll do it!" laughed Gordon. "Or I'll see Morris about
+it. I don't see why he needs to cut up that field, though. Seems to me
+there are enough houses in this town already."
+
+"Wants the money, probably. Bet you Jonathan Brent would cut up the
+Garden of Eden for house lots if he had it!"
+
+"You don't seem to care a whole lot for Mr. Brent, Dickums."
+
+"I don't," responded Dick emphatically. "We wouldn't be like we are
+now--as poor as church mice--if father hadn't got mixed up with Mr.
+Brent in one of his real-estate schemes. I'm not saying that Mr. Brent
+was dishonest, Gordie, but he was too sharp for dad, and dad got let in
+for a pile of money."
+
+"I didn't know that," said Gordon. "You never told me, did you?"
+
+"No. It was a long time ago, when I was just a kid. Dad moved here from
+Norwalk when I was three years old. He had quite a little
+money--thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars it was--and Mr. Brent got
+him to invest it in that South-west Division, as they called it. They
+got hold of a pile of land down the river toward the Point. You know;
+where the picnic grove is. They were going to sell it for factory sites
+and there was a railway coming through to connect with the Shore Line,
+and everything was fine--on paper. But the bottom fell out of the
+scheme; the factories didn't come, and the railroad decided not to
+build; and the mortgages were foreclosed; and after it was all over Mr.
+Brent had the whole thing and dad had nothing! And it was all legal and
+above-board, too! And that's why I've never had much use for Jonathan
+Brent; nor Morris, either, although Morris has never done anything to
+me."
+
+"You and he seem to be pretty good friends," said Gordon.
+
+"I know. He---- Well, he seems to like me pretty well, and you can't be
+anything but decent to a fellow in that case, can you? I suppose if
+Jonathan Brent wasn't his father I'd like him well enough. Well, I'll
+stop in and see this Billings chap to-morrow. It's less trouble than
+writing a letter, I guess. Wednesday the sixteenth, on their own
+grounds, at--what time?"
+
+"Three o'clock, I suppose," answered Gordon. "That will give us plenty
+of time to get over on the two-o'clock car and warm up a bit before the
+game. You might tell him about our field, and say that if they want a
+return game we'll play it over here if we can get the use of the field.
+By the way, that grandstand at the field belongs to the school. We'll
+have to move that if we get out. I wish Mr. Brent would be satisfied
+with all the money he's got and not go and take our field away from us."
+
+"So do I. What we want to do, though, is to watch out and be sure he
+doesn't swipe the grandstand too!"
+
+"Well, you _are_ rabid!" laughed Gordon. "Still, I don't know that I
+blame you. I never knew that about your father, Dickums."
+
+"Well, don't repeat it, please. It's all done with now, and there's no
+use talking about it. I don't--very often. Only sometimes---- Well, I
+get sort of hot under the collar when I think of all the money Jonathan
+Brent has and how awfully hard we have to scrabble to get along.
+Good-bye, Mr. Captain."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Manager. I'm not captain, though."
+
+"You will be," laughed Dick. "You always are, you know!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A RICH MAN'S SON
+
+
+Gordon had doubts of finding Morris Brent at home when, shortly after
+nine o'clock the next morning, he walked up the neat artificial-stone
+path to the front door of Brentwood. But the maid who responded to his
+ring assured him that Master Morris was in, and led the way to the
+gray-and-gold reception room. He decided to take no chances with the
+spindle-legged, silk-brocaded chairs, and took refuge in front of the
+mantel, from which place he viewed the gray satin wall panels and dainty
+luxuries of the apartment with surprise. He didn't have to wait long,
+however, for he had only just reached the conclusion that the room was
+pretty but uncomfortable when footsteps sounded quickly in the hall and
+a boy a year older than he appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Hello, Gordon! How are you? Say, what did they put you in here for?
+This room gives me the creeps, doesn't it you? Come on out on the
+piazza."
+
+Gordon followed his host across the hall, through a warm-toned,
+luxurious but decidedly comfortable library and out of a French door
+onto a wide porch that was screened and curtained. There were many
+bright rugs and gayly cushioned easy-chairs here; and tables with
+blossoming plants and books and magazines on them. From the porch one
+looked across a carefully kept lawn to where a symmetrically clipped
+hedge bordered Louise Street. Mr. Brent owned not only the block on
+which his estate was located, but some eight or nine adjoining blocks
+besides, his property running from his back line across Troutman,
+Lafayette, Main, and Common Streets to the river, including, two blocks
+north, the plot of land which for many years the High School had used as
+an athletic field. Mr. Brent had laid out the section himself and had
+named the two cross streets after his son and daughter, Morris and
+Louise.
+
+Morris was a good-looking youth, with a self-confident air and a
+somewhat dissatisfied expression. He was tall, carried himself well,
+dressed rather more expensively than his companions in high school, and
+was never quite able to forget or allow others to forget that he was
+Jonathan Brent's son and heir. But, in spite of that, he was not
+unpopular, and if there was any snobbishness about him it was
+unconscious. In fact, there were one or two of his acquaintances in
+Clearfield to whom he went out of his way to ingratiate himself. Gordon
+was one and Dick was another. But Gordon had never cared to respond more
+than half-heartedly to Morris' advances, while Dick's attitude we
+already know.
+
+Morris pulled forward the most comfortable chair for his guest, repeated
+that he was glad to see him, and for several minutes gave Gordon no
+chance to state his errand. When he did, however, Morris was as much
+surprised as Dick had been.
+
+"Dad hasn't mentioned it to me," he said, with a frown. "That's too bad,
+isn't it? I don't see why he needs to cut up that land just now. What'll
+we do, Gordon, for a place to play?"
+
+"Dick said he supposed we'd have to go across the river. That would make
+it pretty far from school, though. But I don't know of any place in
+town, do you?"
+
+Morris shook his head, and Gordon went on:
+
+"What I wanted to see you about was to ask if you thought your father
+would have any objection to our using the field until they began to
+build on it. I don't think they've done anything there yet. I thought
+maybe you wouldn't mind asking your father, Morris."
+
+Morris hesitated a moment. "I'll ask him," he said, at last, "but he and
+I--well, we aren't on very good terms just now. Honestly, I think it
+would be better if you asked him yourself, Gordon. I'm afraid he'd say
+no to me just to--to be nasty. You see, we had a sort of row about an
+automobile. He kind of promised last Christmas that he'd get me a
+runabout this Spring, and when I asked about it he put me off; and so
+I"--Morris grinned--"I went ahead and got Stacey to order one for me. It
+came yesterday, and I told dad and he got as mad as a hatter about it.
+Says I can't have it now. I'm going to, though. I've got some money in
+the bank, and Stacey says he'll wait for the rest of it. It's only six
+hundred dollars, anyway."
+
+"Too bad!" murmured Gordon, not very enthusiastically. "Maybe he will
+change his mind, though."
+
+"Not he! He isn't made that way. What are you going to do at the field?
+Play ball?"
+
+Gordon told about the letter from Caspar Billings and the formation of
+the ball club. "I suppose," he ended, "you'll play with the Point
+fellows?"
+
+Morris shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose so. I haven't heard anything
+about it yet. Caspar's a friend of mine, though. We don't move out to
+the Point until the seventeenth this summer. Dad's full of business and
+as grouchy as the dickens. Sis and I have been trying to get mother to
+spunk up and insist on moving right away, but she won't. Who's on your
+team, Gordon?"
+
+Gordon told him. Morris criticised several of his selections and was
+infinitely amused at the idea of Fudge Shaw playing. Gordon had an
+uneasy feeling that Morris perhaps resented not being asked to join. But
+if Morris held any resentment, he didn't show it.
+
+"We ought to have some good games," he said finally and approvingly. "I
+dare say Caspar will want me to play on his team. You know him, don't
+you?"
+
+Gordon was doubtful. "I think I remember him," he said, "but I'm not
+sure. What does he look like?"
+
+"Oh, rather a good-looking chap--big, dark hair, plays tennis a lot and
+is pretty good at it. He lives in a cottage near the hotel, the second
+in the row at the left. He's a dandy chap, Billings. I don't see,
+though, where he's going to get enough fellows at the Point to make up a
+nine, unless there are more there this year than usual. Perhaps he's got
+some fellows staying with him. He goes to St. George's, you know, and
+last year he brought a couple of friends home with him for a while."
+
+"Dick went over to the Point this morning to see about coaching a boy
+who is going to Rifle Point in the Fall," said Gordon. "He's going to
+look up Billings and tell him we'll play him a week from Saturday."
+
+"Could Dick do that? Coach, I mean."
+
+"I guess so. You know he's about the smartest fellow in his class at
+school. He wants to earn some money, and there aren't many things he can
+do. I hope he gets the job."
+
+"Yes. I like Dick. He's terribly white, isn't he? Gee, if I had a bum
+hip like his and had to live on crutches, I'd--I'd----" But words failed
+him. He shook his head. "He's so awfully cheerful. Who is the kid he's
+going to coach?"
+
+"I've forgotten the name. He told me. Something like Prentiss, I think."
+
+Morris shook his head again. "Don't know them. They must be new. When I
+get over there, Gordon, I'll see if I can't drum up some trade for Dick.
+I know about everyone there." He paused, and then added morosely, with a
+wry smile: "It might be a mighty good scheme if I had him coach me a
+bit. I've got to take my college exams next year, and I know blamed well
+I won't pass them." He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I've got another
+year yet. Do you have to go? Stay and play a couple of sets of tennis
+with me. You've never tried our court, have you?"
+
+"I'd like to, but I want to get this business settled. I guess I'd
+better go and see your father about the field. I'd like to play, though,
+some time," he added, as he saw Morris' face fall. "It looks like a
+bully court."
+
+"It is. It's a dandy. Fast as lightning. I haven't played much myself
+this year, and I'm all out of trim. Sis and I had a couple of sets the
+other day, and she pretty nearly licked me."
+
+"I hope your sister is well," murmured Gordon. "And Mrs. Brent."
+
+"Yes, thanks. Sis ought to be around somewhere. Wait till I see."
+
+He got up and passed into the library, and Gordon heard him calling his
+sister at the stairway. He came back in a moment. "She's coming down,"
+he announced. "Don't hurry off. Dad will be in his office all the
+morning, I guess. I hope you don't mind my not wanting to ask him,
+Gordon. I would in a minute, only, as I say, we aren't very chummy just
+now."
+
+At that moment Louise Brent came through the doorway, and Gordon, who
+had reseated himself after his first start to leave, arose again. She
+was tall, like her brother, but, unlike him, was light in coloring, with
+brown hair that just escaped being yellow and a very fair skin and blue
+eyes. She was not a beauty, but she was pretty in spite of irregular
+features, with a lot of animation and a smile that won friends at once.
+She was fifteen; but she looked older, Gordon thought as he took the
+hand she extended.
+
+"I haven't seen you for a long time, Gordon," she said, as she seated
+herself on the edge of Morris' chair. "Not since the school dance in
+January. And then you didn't ask me for a single dance."
+
+Gordon smiled a trifle embarrassedly. "I--I don't dance very well," he
+said. "I thought it would be kinder to spare you."
+
+"You didn't spare Grace Levering," she laughed.
+
+"Well, Grace----"
+
+"Is awfully nice. I know."
+
+"I didn't mean that! I meant that--she's only thirteen--and----"
+
+"Oh, I'm too old?" Louise opened her eyes very wide. "But I'm only
+fifteen, Gordon. How old are you? Or isn't it polite to ask?"
+
+"Fifteen, too," he laughed. "I guess the reason I danced with Grace so
+much was because I thought she wasn't old enough to be fussy about the
+way I did it. Kind of tough on her, though, wasn't it?"
+
+"Kind of tough on the rest of us, you mean," responded Louise. "You'll
+have to make it up this summer by coming to some of our parties at the
+Point. Will you?"
+
+"Why--yes, if you want me to. But, really and truly, I'm a fierce
+dancer, Louise."
+
+"Is he?" She turned to her brother. Morris shook his head.
+
+"Search me. I know he can bat a ball like sixty, though. I've been
+trying to get him to stay and play some tennis, but he won't. You ask
+him, sis."
+
+"Won't you?" she begged. "The court's just crying to be played on. If
+you will, I'll bring you out the biggest, coldest pitcher of lemonade,
+Gordon, you ever saw!"
+
+"Thanks, but--some other time----"
+
+"That means never!" she sighed. "I don't think you're as nice as you
+used to be. Is he, Morris?"
+
+"He's so full of business these days. Say, sis, father's going to cut up
+the athletic field for building lots. What do you think of that?"
+
+"What for?" she demanded.
+
+"Search me. It leaves the school in a hole, all right."
+
+"How horribly mean!" said Louise. "It was such a nice field, too! I
+don't think he ought to do it, Morris, and I guess I'll tell him so."
+
+"Go ahead!" laughed her brother. "It'll make a lot of difference--I
+don't think! Gordon came around to get me to ask dad to let the fellows
+use the field until he began to cut it up, but I told him that he'd
+better do the asking himself. If I asked he might give orders to build a
+dozen houses on it to-morrow!"
+
+"I know." Louise nodded. "I wish you'd give up the idea of that
+automobile, Morris. Mother doesn't want you to have it, either."
+
+"Just because dad made such a fuss," he grumbled. "She was all right
+before that. I'm going to have it, just the same."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't," she murmured. "Do you think he ought to drive an
+auto, Gordon? Don't you think it's too dangerous?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Gordon. "I've never had much experience with
+automobiles. I suppose, though, that if one is careful----"
+
+"Morris won't be," mourned Louise. "He'll have an accident, kill
+himself, break his arm or something."
+
+"Oh, piffle, sis! I can run an automobile as well as any chap. I've done
+it. When I get the car you'll be tickled to death, and you'll want to be
+riding in it every minute."
+
+Louise shook her head energetically. "No, I shan't, Morris. I'd be
+scared to death. And I think it would be much better for you to wait
+another year or two. Papa won't like it a bit if you take your money out
+of the bank and spend it on an automobile."
+
+"It's my money, and I have a right to do as I please with it," responded
+her brother. "Besides, if he'd kept his word----"
+
+"Oh, Morris, you shouldn't say things like that! Papa never actually
+told you you could have it."
+
+"Well, he as much as told me," muttered Morris. "Anyway, I'm going to
+have it. Stacey would think I was a pretty funny sort if I refused to
+take it after he'd got it for me."
+
+"Maybe he could sell it to someone else," suggested Gordon. "'Most
+everyone is buying the things nowadays. Well, I'll be going, I guess.
+Good-bye. Good-bye, Louise. I'll come over some time and have that
+tennis, Morris, if you'll let me know."
+
+"Come whenever you can, will you? I'm at home most of the time; or I
+shall be until I get my car." And Morris grinned exasperatingly at his
+sister.
+
+"Don't forget that you're to come to the Point some time and dance every
+dance with me," Louise reminded, as she and Morris accompanied Gordon to
+the door. "That's the only apology I'll accept."
+
+"You'll wish you hadn't invited me after the first dance," replied the
+visitor grimly. "But I'll come if you want me to some time. Good-bye."
+
+On his wheel once more, and spinning down the shadow-dappled street, he
+thought, not without a little natural envy, how fine it must be to have
+as much money as the Brents. Morris had spoken of buying a
+six-hundred-dollar automobile in much the same way as Gordon might have
+announced his intention of purchasing a new suit of clothes! And yet, on
+reflection, Morris didn't seem really happy and contented, and never
+had. He always appeared to have a quarrel with someone or something.
+Sometimes it was the teachers at High School, who were imposing on him;
+once it had been the baseball coach, Mr. Farrel, who, according to
+Morris, was keeping him off the team for spite, and now it was with his
+father. It would seem, then, that the possession of much wealth didn't
+always bring contentment. There was Dick Levering, who was not only poor
+but a cripple as well, and who was absolutely the most cheerful and
+contented fellow of all Gordon's acquaintances. It was a bit puzzling,
+Gordon thought, as he whirled into E Street and headed toward the
+business section of town.
+
+Mr. Jonathan Brent's office was in the Clearfield Trust Company's
+Building, opposite the common. Gordon left his wheel against the curb
+and mounted the flight of marble stairs. A clerk took his name
+doubtfully and indicated a chair for him to sit in while he waited Mr.
+Brent's pleasure. As it happened, although the mill president was a very
+busy man, Gordon didn't have to wait long. Almost at once a buzzer
+sounded, the clerk disappeared, returned, and conducted Gordon through a
+door whose ground-glass pane was marked "Private."
+
+Mr. Brent's office looked out across E Street into the elm-shaded
+greenery of the common. An electric fan made a soft and pleasant
+whirring from the top of the big desk which, until Gordon had crossed
+the room, hid Mr. Brent from view. A chair was set at the end of the
+desk and into this, not very confidently, Gordon lowered himself while
+Mr. Brent, without looking up, ran his eye over a letter in his hand.
+
+Jonathan Brent was a small man, small and narrow, with a lean and
+wrinkled face, shrewd but not unkindly, and a pair of gimlet-like,
+blue-gray eyes. His face was clean-shaven and the grizzled brown hair
+had retreated until the top of his head was as bald and shining as the
+white-enameled newel-post at the foot of the Merricks' stairway. His
+mouth was thin and set in a firm, straight line, a line that never
+altered as, presently, he laid down the paper in his hand and raised his
+gaze to Gordon's.
+
+"Well, what do you want, my boy?" he asked, in a quick but not
+unpleasant voice.
+
+"I came to see you about the athletic field, Mr. Brent," responded
+Gordon. "I heard yesterday that you intend to cut it up for building
+lots, sir."
+
+"Quite right. What of it?"
+
+"Well, sir, you see we've been using it for baseball, and some of us are
+getting up a nine to play this summer, and I wondered if you'd let us
+use it until you got ready to--to build on it."
+
+"Oh! I see. What's your name? Herrick?"
+
+"Merrick, sir; Gordon Merrick."
+
+"Ellis Merrick's boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I know your father. Are you in the High School?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Know my boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I--I went to see him this morning. I thought maybe he would
+ask you for me, but--he----"
+
+Gordon floundered, and a tiny smile moved the corners of Mr. Brent's
+straight lips.
+
+"He didn't care to, eh? Well, Merrick, you're welcome to use the field
+as long as you don't interfere with the engineers or workmen. I believe
+they're going to survey there for the street in a week or so."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Brent."
+
+"All right. I dare say you boys are going to miss that playground."
+
+"Yes, sir, we are. It--it's been a fine place for us."
+
+"Yes. Sorry I can't let you have the use of it longer, but I need the
+ground. I suppose you can find another field without much trouble."
+
+"I think so," agreed Gordon doubtfully.
+
+"You and Morris friends?"
+
+"Yes, sir. That is, we--we know each other pretty well."
+
+"Only pretty well, eh? What's the matter? Don't you like him?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, but--but we don't see each other much."
+
+"Doesn't he like you?"
+
+"I think so. He seems to."
+
+"Did he say anything to you about an automobile, Merrick?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he mentioned it." Gordon began to wish himself away.
+
+"Ever drive one of the things?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Like to?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I guess so. I think it would be fun to--to have one."
+
+"Why doesn't your father get you one?"
+
+"I don't think he could afford it, and, besides----"
+
+"Yes? Besides?"
+
+"I guess he wouldn't think I was--was old enough to run it."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Fifteen, sir."
+
+"Morris is sixteen. Think your father would let you have one if you were
+a year older and he could afford it?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "I don't believe so, Mr. Brent."
+
+"I don't, either. Well, help yourself to the field, Merrick. Glad to
+have met you. Good day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE TEAM ELECTS ITS CAPTAIN
+
+
+There was a full attendance at the organization meeting which assembled
+in the Merricks' front parlor that evening. Besides Gordon himself, Dick
+Lovering, Fudge Shaw, Harry Bryan, who had won his father's consent, and
+Tom Haley, all of whom we have met, there was Lansing White, otherwise
+known as "Lanny," Jack Tappen, Pete Robey, Will Scott, and Curtis
+Wayland. Curtis and Will were inseparable companions. Damon and Pythias
+would have been excellent, if hackneyed, nicknames for the pair. Dick
+had once remarked in his quiet way, when the two chums had appeared arm
+in arm on the ball field: "Where there's a Will there's a Way."
+Thereafter Curtis was called Way, and Dick's pun was handed over to an
+appreciative public in the "Caught-in-the-Corridor" column of _The
+Purple_, the High School monthly. Way and Will were both of an age,
+which was sixteen, both of the same height to a fraction of an inch,
+and, perhaps by reason of having been together ever since they were in
+kindergarten, were so much alike in general appearance, manners, and
+speech that they were always mistaken for brothers and not infrequently
+for twins. Way was a little heavier in build than Will, and had dark
+brown hair, whereas Will's was light. For the rest they were much the
+same, with brown eyes, short noses, and round, freckled faces. Good,
+healthy, jolly, normal boys both.
+
+Pete Robey was fifteen, a lank, dark-eyed fellow, rather diffident and
+quiet. Jack Tappen was only fourteen, but he was big for his years. He
+was not at all diffident. In fact, Jack had a pretty good opinion of
+himself. He was a clever ball player, and, for that matter, did many
+things about as well as the older fellows with whom he associated.
+
+Lansing White, or Lanny, as he was always called, was fifteen. Every one
+who knew him would have assured you earnestly that Lansing White was
+destined for great things. Perhaps they were right. At all events, he
+had the fine faculty of making friends on the instant and holding them.
+There wasn't a kinder-hearted fellow in school, nor one more thoughtful
+of others. If a ballot had been taken for the most popular student,
+Lanny would have won, hands-down, over many a fellow far more prominent
+in school affairs. He caught for the school nine, played a fine game at
+left halfback on the football team, and regularly won his five points in
+each of the sprints at the track meetings with Springdale High School.
+
+In appearance he was rather striking by reason of his hair, which was as
+near the color of ripe flax as hair ever gets, and his eyes which were
+so dark a brown that they looked black. The contrast between light hair
+and dark eyes was rather startling. He was always a little too lean, his
+parents thought, but his leanness was quite healthy and was due,
+probably, to the fact that he was always in training for something.
+
+The nine members of the Clearfield Ball Club sat around the parlor,
+occupying every available chair and couch, and discussed the project
+exhaustively and with enthusiasm. They all agreed that it was the
+bounden duty of someone to humble the pride of those Rutter's Point
+chaps, to whom they had long been in the habit of referring as the Silk
+Stocking Brigade; and they didn't see but what the duty could be
+performed by them as well as by any others. Jack Tappen thought they
+could attend to it a little better than any others, and so declared.
+That point agreed on, they discussed ways and means. Everyone there
+except Fudge and Pete Robey had a High School uniform which it would,
+they decided, be quite permissible to wear. Fudge declared that he would
+buy a uniform, and Pete was sure he could borrow one. Gordon's
+announcement that Dick had been tendered and had accepted the position
+of manager met with acclaim, and Will and Way, in the same breath,
+demanded a speech. Dick declined to address the meeting, contenting
+himself with reminding the turbulent pair that as manager he had the
+power to fine them for misconduct. At which Will and Way, pretending to
+be much alarmed, subsided. It was agreed that every member was to pay
+his own car-fares when the team journeyed from home, and that the
+manager's expenses were to be provided for by an assessment on each of
+one-ninth of the necessary amount. Dick claimed the floor, there to
+state that it would probably not be necessary for the others to provide
+his expenses, and that in any case he would pay his own way unless the
+team journeyed a long distance.
+
+The name of the team was decided on--the Clearfield Baseball Club. Harry
+Bryan was in favor of something with more "snap" to it, something like
+the Clearfield Pirates or the Clearfield Giants, but he was defeated.
+Dick, who had taken the proceedings in hand, then announced that the
+election of a captain was in order, and Tom Haley, Fudge, and Jack
+Tappen nominated Gordon in unison. The others signified approval
+noisily. Gordon, however, insisted on being heard.
+
+"You fellows don't have to make me captain," he protested, "just because
+I started the thing going. It wasn't my idea, anyhow; it was Bert
+Cable's. I'll be captain if you really want me, but I think some of the
+rest of you would be better, and I nominate Tom."
+
+"Nominate all you like," grunted Tom Haley. "I decline."
+
+"I nominate Lanny," said Will Scott.
+
+"Second the nomination!" piped up Way.
+
+"Much obliged, fellows," said Lanny, "but I'd rather not. Let's make
+Gordon captain and not be scared out of it. All in favor make a lot of
+noise!"
+
+There was a lot of noise, a very great deal of noise, and Dick
+laughingly declared Gordon elected. "Speech! Speech!" shouted the
+irrepressible Fudge, beating a tattoo on the hardwood floor with his
+heels.
+
+"Shut up, Fudge! And stop denting the floor with those hob-nailed shoes
+of yours. I saw Mr. Brent this morning, and asked him if we could use
+the field as long as it wasn't wanted for anything else, and he said we
+could. So I propose that if the Point plays us a return game we play on
+our own grounds. Now, about practice. You fellows know we've got to get
+together and have a good lot of real work before we run up against those
+Point fellows. So I say let's have practice every afternoon next week at
+four-thirty. Maybe after next week every other day will do, but we don't
+want to let those silk-sox chaps beat us, and so we've got to practice
+hard. Will all you fellows agree to come to practice every afternoon?
+That doesn't mean Tom, because he's got a lot of work to do, and,
+besides, we don't need him so much. He will come as often as he can. But
+the rest of us ought to get out every day."
+
+"That's right," agreed Jack Tappen. "If we're going into this thing,
+let's go into it with both feet. There's no reason I can see why we
+shouldn't have as good a baseball team as there is in this part of the
+state. We all know the game pretty well----"
+
+"Oh, you right-fielder!" exclaimed Fudge.
+
+"----And most of us have played together this Spring. And with Gordon
+for captain we ought to just everlastingly wipe up the county!"
+
+Loud applause greeted this enthusiastic statement, and Fudge began his
+tattoo again, but was cautioned by a well-aimed pillow which, narrowly
+avoiding a vase on a side table, eclipsed his joyous countenance for an
+instant.
+
+"I guess," said Lanny, "that we can all get out and practice; can't we,
+fellows? In fact, Gordie, it might be a good plan to have it understood
+that any fellow not turning up, without a real, genuine excuse, is to
+pay a fine."
+
+"How much?" demanded Fudge anxiously.
+
+"Half a dollar," suggested Will.
+
+"A quarter," said Jack.
+
+"A quarter's enough, I guess," said Dick. "How about it? Everyone
+agree?"
+
+"Who's going to decide whether the excuse is a good one?" inquired
+Fudge.
+
+"Dick," said Gordon.
+
+Fudge sighed with relief. "All right. Dick's a friend of mine."
+
+"Then Wednesday at four-thirty, fellows," said Gordon, "and bring your
+bats. By the way, there's one thing we've forgotten: We'll have to buy
+balls. Suppose we all chip in a half to start with?"
+
+That was agreed to, and the meeting was served with lemonade and cakes
+and adjourned, everyone departing save Dick, Lanny, and Fudge. These,
+with Gordon, went out to the porch and took possession of the front
+steps. There was a fine big moon riding in the sky, and, since
+Clearfield was economical and did not illuminate the streets in the
+residence districts when the moon was on duty, it had no competition.
+The leafy shadows of the big elm fell across the porch, blue-black,
+trembling as a tiny breeze moved the branches above. Dick leaned against
+a pillar and laid his crutches between his knees, and the others grouped
+about him. Perhaps the refreshments had worked a somnolent effect on
+them, or perhaps the great lopsided moon stared them into silence. At
+all events, nothing was said for a minute or two, even Fudge, usually an
+extremely chatty youth, having for once no observations to offer. It was
+Gordon who finally broke the stillness.
+
+"Some moon," he said dreamily.
+
+"Great!" agreed Lanny. "You can see the man in it plainly to-night."
+
+"Supposing," said Fudge thoughtfully, "supposing you were terribly big,
+miles and miles high, and you had a frightfully huge bat, couldn't you
+get a d-d-dandy swipe at it!"
+
+"You could make a home run, Fudge!" laughed Lanny. "Only you'd have to
+hit pretty quick. Why, if you were tall enough to reach the moon, it
+would be going past you faster than one of Tom's straight ones, Fudge!"
+
+"Quite a bit faster," agreed Gordon. "Still, it would be 'in the
+groove,' and if you took a good swing and got your eye on it you could
+everlastingly bust up the game!"
+
+"I think," replied Fudge, who had literary yearnings, "I'll write a
+story about a giant who did that."
+
+"Well, there are some pretty good hitters among the 'Giants,'" commented
+Dick gravely. Fudge snorted.
+
+"You know wh-wh-what I mean!" he said severely.
+
+"Of course he does," agreed Lanny. "Dick, you oughtn't to poke fun at
+Fudge's great thoughts. Fudge is a budding genius, Fudge is, and if
+you're not careful you'll discourage him. Remember his story about the
+fellow who won the mile race in two minutes and forty-one seconds, Dick?
+That was a peach of a----"
+
+"I didn't!" declared Fudge passionately. "The p-p-printer made a
+mistake! I've told you that a th-th-th-thousand t-t-times! I wrote
+it----"
+
+"Don't spoil it," begged Dick. "It was a much better story the way _The
+Purple_ printed it. Any fellow might run the mile in four-something, but
+to do it under three shows real ability, Fudge. Besides, what's a minute
+or two in a story?"
+
+"Aw, cu-cu-cut it out!" grumbled Fudge. "You f-f-fellows m-m-m-m----"
+
+"You'll never do it, Fudge," said Gordon sympathetically. "I've noticed
+that if you don't make it the first two or three times you----"
+
+"----M-make me tired!" concluded Fudge breathlessly but triumphantly.
+
+"Snappy work!" approved Lanny. "If at first you don't succeed----"
+
+"T-t-try, try again," assisted Gordon. Fudge muttered something both
+unintelligible and uncomplimentary, and Gordon turned to Dick: "How did
+you get on with Mrs. Thingamabob at the Point, Dick?" he asked. "What's
+the kid like?"
+
+"All right. The name is Townsend. They're at the hotel. The boy is
+thirteen and he's--he's a bit spoiled, I guess. There's an older
+brother, too, a fellow about seventeen. He confided to me that I'd have
+a beast of a time with the youngster. His name--the brother's--is Loring
+Townsend. Anybody know him?"
+
+There was no response, and Dick continued:
+
+"He seemed rather a nice chap, big brother did. As for the kid--his name
+is Harold, by the way----"
+
+"Fancy names, what?" said Gordon. "Loring and Harold."
+
+"No fancier than your own," commented Fudge, still a trifle disgruntled.
+"Gordon! Gee, that's a sweet name for a grown-up fellow!"
+
+"Not as sweet as Fudge, though," answered Gordon.
+
+"That's not my n-n-name!"
+
+"There, you're getting him excited again," said Lanny soothingly. "Move
+out of the moonlight, Fudge. It's affecting your disposition. What about
+the kid, Dick? Is he the one you're going to tutor?"
+
+"Yes; he's entered for Rifle Point in the Autumn, and he's way behind on
+two or three things. The worst of it is that he doesn't seem very
+enthusiastic about catching up. I guess I'll have my work cut out for
+me. The big brother told me that I was to take no nonsense from young
+Harold, and that he'd back me up, but--I don't know. I guess Mrs.
+Townsend wouldn't approve of harsh measures. She's trying her best to
+spoil the kid, I'd say. I'm to go over five mornings a week, beginning
+Monday."
+
+"I'm glad I don't have to do it," commented Gordon. "I'll bet the kid is
+a young terror, Dick."
+
+Dick smiled. "He is--something of the sort. But I guess he and I will
+get on all right after a while. And if he's got it in him to learn, he
+will learn," Dick added grimly. "That is, unless his mother----"
+
+"She's bound to," said Lanny. "They all do. Inside of a week she'll be
+telling you that you're working her darling too hard."
+
+"How do you know so much about it?" challenged Fudge. "Anyone would
+think you were a hundred years old!"
+
+Lanny laughed. "I've kept my eyes open, Fudge, sweet child. Mothers are
+pretty fine institutions; no fellow should be without one; but they are
+most of them much too easy on us. And you know that as well as I do."
+
+"Mine isn't," murmured Fudge regretfully. "She's worse than my father at
+making me do things!"
+
+"Oh, well, you're an exceptional case," said Gordon gently. "When a
+fellow shows criminal tendencies like yours, Fudge----"
+
+"Yes, writing stories at your age! You ought to be ashamed!" Lanny spoke
+with deep severity. Fudge only chuckled.
+
+"Some day," he announced gleefully, "I'm going to write a story and put
+you fellows all into it. Then you'll wish you hadn't been so fresh. The
+only thing is"--and his voice fell disconsolately--"I don't suppose, if
+I told what I know about you, I could get it published!"
+
+"Deal gently with us, Fudge," begged Dick humbly. "Remember, we used to
+be friends. I must be getting along, fellows. Coming over to-morrow,
+Gordie?"
+
+"Yes, I'll drop around in the morning. We've got to get busy and send
+out some challenges. Who can we get to play with us, Lanny, besides
+Lesterville and, maybe, Plymouth?"
+
+"I don't know. I think there are plenty of teams, though, if we can find
+them."
+
+"They have a team at Logan," said Fudge, "but I guess they're older than
+we are."
+
+"What do we care?" asked Gordon. "Logan's a good way off, though, and I
+suppose it would cost like the dickens to get there."
+
+"Make them come over here," suggested Lanny.
+
+[Illustration: "'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge"]
+
+"Yes, but then they'd want their expenses guaranteed."
+
+"Look here," observed Dick, "why couldn't we charge admission to some of
+the games after we got started? I dare say quite a lot of folks would
+pay a quarter to see a good game."
+
+"They might," conceded Lanny. "We could try it, anyway. If we could get,
+say, a hundred admissions, we'd have twenty-five dollars, and then we
+could pay the expenses of any team around here. That's a bully idea,
+Dick. As a manager you're all to the good."
+
+"I thank you," replied Dick, setting his crutches under his arms. "We'll
+talk it over to-morrow. You come over, too, Lanny; and Fudge if he is
+not in the throes of literary composition."
+
+"I'll walk around with you," said Lanny. "It's too bully a night to go
+to bed, anyway. Good-night, fellows."
+
+"Good-night," responded Gordon and Fudge. "Good-night, Dick."
+
+They watched the two as long as they were in sight in the white radiance
+of the moon, and then:
+
+"They're two of the finest fellows in the world," said Fudge warmly.
+"And wouldn't Dick be a wonder if he was like the rest of us, Gordie?"
+
+"Y--yes," replied Gordon thoughtfully, "only--sometimes I think that
+maybe if Dick was like the rest of us, Fudge, he might not be the
+splendid chap he is."
+
+Fudge objected to that, but afterward, returning home by way of the back
+fence, he thought it over. "I suppose," he told himself, as he paused on
+his porch for a final look at the moon, "what Gordie means is that
+tribulations ennoble our characters." That struck him as a fine phrase,
+and he made a mental note of it. Still later, as he lay in bed with the
+moonlight illumining his room, he began to plan a perfectly corking
+story around the phrase, with Dick as the hero. Unfortunately, perhaps,
+for American literature, sleep claimed him before he had completed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DICK VISITS THE POINT
+
+
+On Wednesday the Clearfield Baseball Club reported for practice. There
+was a full attendance, with the exception of Tom Haley. Gordon confined
+the hour's work to fielding, however, and Tom's absence was not felt.
+Fudge had purchased a brand-new High School uniform and Pete Robey had
+been lucky enough to borrow one from a boy who had played on the team
+several years before. As the shirts and caps held only the letter "C,"
+there was nothing misrepresentative about the gray uniforms. Of course,
+the fact that the C was purple and that the stockings were of the same
+royal hue might lead one to mistake the team for the High School nine;
+but Gordon had consulted the principal, Mr. Grayson, in the matter, and
+Mr. Grayson had given it as his opinion that, so long as they did not
+pretend to be the High School team, there could be no harm in wearing
+their school uniforms.
+
+Most of the fellows had not played since the final game with Springdale,
+nearly a month before, and were consequently rather out of practice.
+Muscles were stiff, and that first day's work only produced soreness.
+But by Saturday the fellows were pegging the ball around with their
+old-time ginger and running and sliding with their accustomed agility.
+Tom pitched to the batters on Friday, and the result proved that batting
+practice was far from being a waste of time. Even Gordon, who had headed
+the batting list that Spring, found that his eye was bad and that he
+could connect with Tom's easy offerings scarcely better than the
+tail-enders.
+
+Fudge plunged into the business with heart and soul, determined to make
+himself not only a useful member of the outfield but a regular Ty Cobb
+or Home-Run Baker at the bat. I regret to have to state that for some
+time Fudge's fielding was not at all spectacular and that he never--or
+at least never that summer--threatened to dispute Mr. Cobb's supremacy
+with the stick. But they didn't expect great things from Fudge; and as
+time went on he developed a very clever judgment in the matter of fly
+balls and even became able to throw with some accuracy to the infield.
+
+Meanwhile, Dick had entered into correspondence with some half dozen
+baseball teams in not too distant towns, and already a game had been
+scheduled with Lesterville, who, to Dick's surprise and satisfaction,
+offered to pay Clearfield's expenses if it would visit Lesterville.
+Manager Lovering promptly agreed and the date of the contest was fixed
+for the second Saturday following the Rutter's Point game. On Friday
+morning Dick and Caspar Billings again met and completed arrangements.
+Caspar, a boy of Dick's own age, took a great liking to the Clearfield
+manager, and insisted on his staying to luncheon with him on that
+occasion, and it was on the Billings' veranda, within a stone's throw of
+the waves, that the two talked it all over.
+
+Caspar was a fine-looking youth, rather large but well conditioned, with
+dark hair and eyes, a ready smile, and a jovial laugh. He lived in New
+York, but had been spending his summers at the Point for several years.
+Dick met Caspar's mother and two older sisters at luncheon, but Mr.
+Billings was not present, and Dick gathered that he remained in New York
+save for an occasional week-end. When Caspar explained that Dick was
+tutoring Harold Townsend, Mrs. Billings shook her head pessimistically.
+
+"I'm afraid," she said, "you'll find him rather difficult. He isn't
+exactly what I'd call a nice-dispositioned boy."
+
+"Come, mother, don't discourage Lovering at the start," laughed Caspar.
+"We all know that the kid's horribly spoiled, but then Lovering isn't
+going to be a governess to him!"
+
+"I don't want to discourage him, dear, but I thought it only right he
+should know that--well, if he isn't very successful, it won't be
+altogether his fault. Mrs. Townsend is a dear woman, but I can't admire
+the way she has brought up that boy."
+
+"His brother has already warned me," replied Dick, with a smile. "I'm
+prepared for the worst. So far, Harold has behaved very well. He doesn't
+like to study much, but he hasn't--well, lain down in the shafts yet."
+
+"He will, though," laughed Caspar. "And if you don't keep a tight rein
+he will bust the shafts! That brother of his is a nice chap, though. By
+the way, he's going to play first base for us, Lovering."
+
+"Who is your pitcher?" asked Dick.
+
+"I--we aren't quite sure. We expect it will be Mason, but he hasn't come
+yet. If he doesn't show up we'll have to find some one else. You know
+Morris Brent, don't you? He's on the team, too. Then there's Pink
+Northrop and Jim House and Gilbert Chase and Charlie Leary and--let's
+see; oh, yes, Billy Houghton. And Mason, if he gets here in time. How
+many's that? Never mind. I dare say I've forgotten one or two. I guess
+we'll average a year or so older than you chaps, but you have been
+playing together, and I guess that will equalize things. That field over
+behind the hotel isn't the best in the world, but it's not bad in the
+infield."
+
+"What position do you play?" asked Dick, when they were back on the
+veranda.
+
+"Third usually. I'm not particular. I'm not much of a player, but I get
+a lot of fun out of it. I've tried two years running for the team at
+school and haven't made it yet."
+
+"What school do you go to?"
+
+"St. George's. We turn out some pretty fair ball teams there. I'm going
+to try again next Spring. It's my last year, and if I don't make it then
+I'm a goner."
+
+"I suppose you're going to college, though?"
+
+"No; my father doesn't want me to. Says he needs me with him in the
+office. I don't mind--very much. Of course, I'd like to go; 'most every
+fellow I know at school is going. Maybe father will change his mind
+before Spring. What about you, Lovering?"
+
+"College?" Dick shook his head. "I'd like it mighty well, too, but it
+costs too much. Funny how fellows who can go don't care about it.
+There's Morris Brent. His father's crazy to have him go to college. He
+tells Morris he can have his pick of them all. Morris doesn't want to go
+a bit; and he won't, I guess, if he doesn't brace up."
+
+"Exams, you mean?"
+
+Dick nodded. "Morris is always in trouble with his studies."
+
+"His father's a bit of a Tartar, isn't he?" asked Caspar. "I've only met
+him once or twice, but he seemed sort of cross-grained."
+
+"I don't know. I know he and Morris are always at outs about one thing
+or another. Just now, I hear, it's an automobile. Morris wants one, and
+his father says he can't have it. Do you know him very well?"
+
+"Not very. We've seen each other quite a little for several summers, but
+we aren't awfully chummy. I don't quite----" Caspar paused, with a
+puzzled frown. "If he'd forget that his father has a lot of money, he'd
+get on better with fellows here. I like his sister, though. She's an
+awfully nice, jolly kid. And his mother's mighty nice, too."
+
+"Yes, so I've heard. I don't know them. Well, I must get along. We will
+be over here in time to begin the game at three on Saturday, Billings.
+I'll talk to Gordon about the umpire, but I'm pretty sure the chap you
+speak of will be satisfactory to us. Thanks for being so kind. Will you
+say good-bye to your mother and sisters, please?"
+
+"That's all right," replied Caspar warmly. "Hope you'll come around
+often, Lovering. See you Wednesday, anyway." He watched Dick's deft
+manipulation of his crutches anxiously. Finally: "I say, it's a long
+walk to the trolley. Let me take you over, won't you? We have a sort of
+a horse and cart here, and it won't take a minute to hitch up."
+
+"No, thanks; I like to walk," replied Dick, with a smile. "Maybe you
+wouldn't call it walking, though; perhaps I ought to say that I like to
+'crutch.'"
+
+"Call it what you like," responded Caspar heartily, "you certainly do it
+mighty well, Lovering!"
+
+Dick reached the trolley station in ample time for the two-forty-five
+car back to Clearfield, and on the way his thoughts dwelt largely on
+Master Harold Townsend. Master Harold was a good deal of a problem. So
+far, as Dick had told Mrs. Billings, the boy had behaved very decently,
+but Dick knew quite well that it was principally because he was still in
+some awe of his tutor. That awe would soon wear off, for there wasn't
+enough difference in the ages of the two to allow Dick to keep the upper
+hand very long. Then, as Dick realized, there'd be trouble.
+Unfortunately, he could not, he felt, count on the boy's mother to back
+him up, for that lady was lamentably weak where her youngest son was
+concerned. Of course, Dick might keep on drawing his wages all summer
+and nothing would be said, but he didn't intend to do that unless he was
+earning them. And it wasn't going to be an easy matter to earn them as
+soon as Harold got over his present diffidence and the slight enthusiasm
+with which Dick had managed to imbue him. The money meant a good deal to
+Dick, and he hated to think of losing it, but one thing was certain: As
+soon as he failed to make progress with Harold he would quit. Perhaps he
+would find another pupil, he reflected more hopefully, although so far
+only Mrs. Townsend had replied to his application.
+
+Just then, his gaze wandering along the flying landscape, he caught
+sight of a small blue runabout automobile trying desperately to keep
+pace with the trolley car. The road was a good three hundred yards away,
+and it was not possible to make out with any certainty the identity of
+the lone figure in the blue car, but Dick was pretty sure that the
+daring driver was Morris Brent. If so, he had, then, overruled his
+father in the matter, thought Dick. It wasn't like Mr. Brent to change
+his mind, either. In any case, and whoever was driving the runabout,
+that light vehicle was plunging along the none too smooth road at a pace
+that brought Dick's heart into his mouth more than once and attracted
+the concerned attention of all the occupants of the trolley car. Several
+times, as it seemed, the runabout narrowly avoided collision with the
+white fence which ran beside the dirt road, and Dick was heartily
+relieved when, presently, a team approached from the direction of
+Clearfield, and the driver of the automobile, recognizing the futility
+of trying to pass at his present reckless speed, slowed down and was
+lost to sight from the car.
+
+Dick mentioned the incident to Gordon at practice that afternoon, but
+Gordon was unable to say whether Morris had bought the automobile he had
+spoken of. "He said he was going to, though, whether his father wanted
+him to or not. Said he had some money of his own and that Stacey, the
+agent on Oak Street, would wait for the rest. If his father finds it
+out, he will be hopping mad, I'll bet."
+
+"It won't take him long to find it out," replied Dick dryly. "At least
+two dozen persons saw him to-day. Someone's pretty sure to speak of it.
+The idiot was driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!"
+
+"That's the way Morris would drive," said Gordon. "By the way, there's a
+meeting of the Athletic Committee called for next Saturday night in
+Assembly Hall to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says he
+doesn't see how we're going to get a field without paying for it, and we
+haven't any money to do that."
+
+"It's tough luck," replied Dick. "Have they any field in sight?"
+
+"I don't think so. Will said something about a piece of land on the way
+to the Point, near the picnic ground. Do you know what he means?"
+
+"No; but I guess there's plenty of land there. I don't believe it's very
+level. I suppose beggars mustn't be choosers, however."
+
+"I think it's mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that field away from us!"
+said Gordon scowlingly.
+
+"Did you tell him so the other day?" Dick asked innocently.
+
+Gordon laughed. "No, I forgot to! Come on and let's get these fellows
+started. Tom, will you pitch at the net for a while?"
+
+"Shall I tell Billings it's all right about the umpire, Gordie?"
+
+"Yes; we don't care who umps as long as he knows how. If they play us
+again, we'll have the choice then. Now then, fellows, get your batting
+eyes! Don't be too easy with us, Tom. Speed 'em over, old scout!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CLEARFIELD PLAYS THE POINT
+
+
+Clearfield boarded the two-fifteen trolley car on Wednesday and set out
+for Rutter's Point in high spirits. They had intended taking the
+two-o'clock car, but Harry Bryan and Fudge had failed to arrive at the
+starting point on time. Harry claimed business affairs as his reason for
+tardiness, but Fudge's excuse was both vague and involved, and Gordon
+informed him that the next time he failed to be on time he would be left
+behind. Fudge smiled dreamily.
+
+The team in their gray uniforms with purple stockings presented a very
+natty appearance. To be sure, some of the stockings were pretty well
+faded and several of the suits were somewhat stained, but on the whole
+the players passed muster very well. They took possession of the first
+two seats on the car and had a very happy and fairly noisy time of it.
+Dick and Gordon got their heads together over the batting order and
+rearranged it for the third time. When it was finally fixed to their
+liking it was as follows: Bryan, 2b; Scott, 3b; Merrick, 1b; Wayland, l.
+f.; Tappen, r. f.; Robey, ss.; White, c.; Shaw, c. f.; Haley, p.
+
+"We'll try it that way," said Gordon, "and see how it goes. Maybe we'd
+better put Jack after me, though. What do you think?"
+
+"We had it that way, and you thought we'd better change it," answered
+Dick patiently.
+
+"I know, but--but I guess he ought to follow me, Dick."
+
+"Look here," said Dick, with a smile, "who's manager here?"
+
+"You are," replied Gordon, a trifle sheepishly.
+
+"All right. I just wanted to know."
+
+"Then--you think----"
+
+"I think the batting order is going to stay just as it is!"
+
+They reached the field shortly after half-past two, and found a handful
+of spectators from the hotel and cottages already seated in the shade of
+the little row of trees behind the third-base line. The Point team was
+not in evidence, and Gordon quickly distributed his players over the
+diamond and started warming up. Five minutes later the rival team
+appeared by ones and twos, and Caspar Billings sought Dick where he was
+watching the performance of his charges. When Gordon came in from first
+base, Dick introduced the rival captains and they shook hands. Other
+introductions followed, but several of the Point fellows were already
+known to the Clearfield members. Clearfield gave up the diamond to her
+opponents at ten minutes to three, and watched their practice. The Point
+team was not in agreement, it appeared, as to a uniform. Every player
+wore togs of some sort, but at least a half-dozen schools were
+represented, and there were stockings of about every color in the solar
+spectrum in evidence. The umpire was named Vokes, and was a college man
+who was serving as a clerk at the hotel. Gordon decided that while Mr.
+Vokes' sympathies might be with Rutter's Point he was not the sort to
+let them affect his decisions. Also, Gordon reflected, unless he was
+very much mistaken, Vokes knew baseball from A to Z. As it turned out,
+Gordon was not mistaken, and Mr. Vokes' umpiring was perhaps the most
+perfect feature of that far from perfect contest.
+
+Clearfield, as the visiting team, went to bat first. Dick, who had been
+given the Point batting list by a youth who was to score for the home
+team, was relieved to find that Mason was not set down as a pitcher.
+Dick didn't know a thing about Mason, but he somehow had got the
+impression that Mason was something a bit unusual. Evidently he had not
+arrived in time for to-day's game. The pitcher whom the Point presented
+was named Porter. He looked capable and wore a Lawrenceville cap with
+what Dick took to be the second team insignia over the visor.
+
+The Point team averaged perhaps a year and a half more than the visiting
+nine, and was almost entirely composed of players from well-known
+preparatory schools. As, however, they had never performed together
+before as a team, save in one or two desultory practice games with a
+nine made up of hotel employees, Dick had hopes of taking their measure
+to-day.
+
+Some seventy or eighty onlookers were gathered together on the grass
+behind the third base line, prepared to root for the Pointers, when
+Porter delivered the first ball to Harry Bryan. It was a pretty hot
+afternoon, for what breeze there was came from the landward side of the
+sun-smitten field. Two settees had been placed on the first-base side of
+the plate for the accommodation of the visitors, and here Dick and the
+others sat in the full glare of the afternoon sun, Dick perspiring over
+his score book and the rest watching interestedly the behavior of the
+rival pitcher. The field was fairly level about the infield, but further
+out it rolled a good deal and was covered with rough, bunchy grass.
+
+Porter disposed of Harry Bryan without trouble, and Will Scott took his
+place at the plate. Will beat out a slow grounder to shortstop and went
+to second on Gordon's bunt down third base line. But Gordon was out at
+first and Curtis Wayland let the third strike get by him.
+
+Rutter's Point led off with a clean two-base hit by Caspar Billings and
+followed it with a neat sacrifice bunt that placed the captain on third.
+But he died there a few minutes later, for Tom Haley struck out Morris
+Brent easily and made the next man pop up a fly to Pete Robey.
+
+The second inning passed without a score, but in the first of the third,
+after Tom Haley had struck out, Harry Bryan drove a long fly into right
+field and reached second when the fielder misjudged it. Will Scott
+walked and Gordon hit clean past third, Harry scoring the first run and
+leaving third and second occupied. Way went out, second to first. Jack
+Tappen put himself in a hole and then emerged brilliantly with a smash
+that was too hot for the pitcher. Will scored and Jack reached first
+safely. With Gordon on third, Jack tried a steal. To his surprise the
+Point catcher slammed the ball down to shortstop and Jack was caught a
+yard away from base. Gordon scored too late.
+
+But with a lead of two runs things looked bright for Clearfield. The
+Point again failed to cross the platter, although Loring Townsend got as
+far as second. Tom's shoots were too much for the home team. Neither
+side scored in the fourth. When the first half of the fifth began Pete
+Robey was up, and Pete, contrary to expectations, delivered a scratch
+hit and reached the first bag. Lanny flied out to left fielder and Pete
+reached second ahead of the throw-in. Fudge went out on strikes and,
+with Tom Haley up, the inning seemed over. But Tom made his one hit of
+the game, a Texas Leaguer that fell safely behind first baseman, and
+Pete legged it for the plate and arose from the dust triumphant with a
+tally. Tom got to second on the throw to the plate, but Harry was out,
+third baseman to first.
+
+So far Clearfield had played a clean game in the field, but in the last
+of the fifth luck deserted her. A hard smash down the first base line
+put a runner on second. A slow hit to Will Scott should have been an
+easy out, but Will booted the ball and the runner was safe. The next man
+went out on a foul to Gordon, but the following batsman cracked a liner
+between Peter and Harry and the Point scored its first run. With a man
+on third, Lanny declined to throw to second and the runner on first
+worked an easy steal. Then a batsman found one of Tom's straight ones
+and sent it into short center. Fudge made a fine running catch, but the
+best he could do was to field the ball to Harry and Harry's throw to the
+plate was too late to keep the Point from tying the score. Tom settled
+down then and struck out the next batter and the inning was over, with
+the score three to two.
+
+The spectators warmed up then and there was plenty of noise during the
+rest of the game. The sixth inning was uneventful, although both sides
+got men on bases. The Point pitcher was by no means remarkable, and, as
+Gordon complained, his deliveries would have been easy for Clearfield
+had the latter's batsmen been in any sort of condition. As it was,
+though, they found him puzzling when hits meant runs and by the end of
+the sixth he had seven strike-outs to his credit. It was during the last
+half of that inning that a small youth detached himself from the group
+of spectators across the field and walked around to the Clearfield bench
+and seated himself beside Dick. He was a good-looking youngster, as
+brown as a berry, with a pair of big and rather impudent gray eyes.
+
+"Hello," he said.
+
+"Hello," responded Dick, glancing up from his score. "How are you
+to-day, Harold?"
+
+"Fine and dandy," replied that youth easily. "Keeping score?"
+
+"Yes," answered Dick, crediting Harry Bryan with an assist and Gordon
+with a put-out and penciling the mystic characters "2-1 1" in the square
+opposite Pink Northrop's name. "Enjoying the game, Harold?"
+
+Harold Townsend yawned. "I guess so. We're going to beat you fellows."
+
+"Think so?" asked Dick amiably.
+
+"Sure thing. Our pitcher's just getting good now. Bede Porter never
+begins to pitch till the middle of the game. He will have you fellows
+eating out of his hand pretty soon."
+
+"Well, he's pitched a pretty good game so far. Hello!" Dick was gazing
+in surprise at the boy beside him. "What have you done to your hair?"
+
+Harold grinned. "Had it clipped. Mother's so angry she can't see
+straight. She said I wasn't to, but I went down to the barber shop this
+morning before breakfast. Gee, it's fine and cool!"
+
+"Hardly the right thing to do, though, was it?"
+
+"Oh, she'll get over it. Other fellows have their heads clipped in
+summer, don't they?"
+
+Dick evaded the question. "How are you getting on with your lessons?" he
+asked. "Going to be all ready for me Monday morning?"
+
+"I guess so," replied Harold without enthusiasm. "Who's the fellow
+catching for your team, Lovering?"
+
+"Lansing White."
+
+"Gee, that's a good name for him, White. He's a regular tow-head, isn't
+he?"
+
+"Is he? He's a fine chap, though."
+
+"He don't catch as well as Billy Houghton. Look at the way Gil Chase
+stole on him last inning. Say, you keep score dandy, don't you? Isn't it
+hard?"
+
+"Not very, when you're used to it. Would you like to learn how?"
+
+"No, I can do it well enough. It's too much trouble, anyhow. I'd rather
+play. My brother's the best player on our team."
+
+"Better than Caspar Billings?" asked Dick idly.
+
+"Aw, go on! He can't play! Why, Loring's been first baseman on his
+school team for two years. He could be captain if he wanted to."
+
+"That's very nice," said Dick. "Now you'd better scoot along and make
+room for the fellows. That's three out. I'll see you Monday, Harold."
+
+"All right. Don't come if it's too much trouble," replied the boy with a
+grin. "I shan't mind."
+
+"That your pupil?" asked Lanny, sinking on to the bench beside Dick.
+"Looks like a fresh kid."
+
+"He is, rather," replied Dick dryly. "Will, you'd better play further
+in. That fellow House has laid three bunts down the base line and made
+them good twice. You're up, Jack. Pete on deck. Let's have a couple of
+runs this inning, fellows."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BLUE RUNABOUT
+
+
+But although Jack Tappen drove out a two-bagger over shortstop's head
+and Pete Robey got safely to first on an error by the third baseman, the
+next three players went out in order, Lanny on a foul that was pulled
+down by third baseman, Fudge on strikes and Tom Haley on a weak effort
+to second baseman.
+
+Encouraged by the valiant cheers of its supporters, the Point went to
+work in its half of the seventh in a very business-like way. Townsend
+beat out a bunt in front of base, Morris Brent hit safely into short
+left field, advancing Townsend, and Gil Chase sent a hot one through the
+pitcher's box which Tom couldn't handle. With the bases full, things
+looked bad for Clearfield. Tom knocked down House's drive, however, held
+Townsend at third, and worked the first out. Then Leary, after spoiling
+three good ones, fouled out to Lanny, and Clearfield breathed easier.
+But Pink Northrop, although a tail-ender on the batting list, came
+through with a hit that brought shrieks of delight from the Point
+sympathizers and sent two runs across. Billy Houghton trickled a slow
+bunt toward first and the man on third tried for the plate. But Gordon,
+running in fast, got the ball to Lanny ahead of the runner and the side
+was out.
+
+"You're up, Harry," announced Dick. "There's a fine opening for a bright
+young man between third and short. See what you can do."
+
+"I'll try it, but I'm batting pretty punk," replied Harry doubtfully.
+"What's the matter with a bunt, Dick?"
+
+"Nothing doing, Harry. Hit it out. Get to first and try a hit-and-run
+with Will."
+
+But Harry's effort was a weak grounder that bounded nicely into
+shortstop's hands and there was one out. Gordon, behind first, looked
+worried as Will faced the pitcher. But, "Pick out a good one, Will," he
+called cheerfully. "He hasn't much on it."
+
+Will, profiting by the advice, sought to select one to his liking and
+Porter very soon found himself in a hole. The umpire didn't like
+Porter's offerings any better than Will and after six deliveries Will
+walked to first.
+
+"That's the stuff!" cried Jack Tappen, relieving Gordon on the coaching
+line. "He's all in! Whale it out, Gordon! Here we go, fellows!"
+
+Gordon swung viciously at the first ball across and the third baseman
+stepped cautiously back. Then came a wide one that Gordon disdained. The
+next was likewise a ball by a narrow margin. At first Will was dancing
+back and forth and Jack was coaching at the top of his lungs, while from
+behind third Lanny was offering his budget of advice and comment. Porter
+wound up again, Will started for second and Gordon swung his bat. There
+was a _crack_ as ball and bat met, and Will, nearing second, saw Lanny's
+entreating gestures and never paused in his stride.
+
+Out in center field the ball was bounding along the turf and Gordon was
+already rounding first. Luck helped Clearfield then, for just as center
+fielder slackened his pace to get the ball the latter struck against a
+tuft of the coarse grass in front of him and bounded erratically aside.
+At third Lanny waved Will on to the plate. Gordon, pausing a few yards
+past first, took up his running again while the center fielder turned
+and raced back for the rolling ball. When he reached it Gordon was
+sliding to second in a cloud of dust and Will was halfway to the plate.
+The fielder, Jim House, made a beautiful throw, but Will beat it, and
+the best the catcher could do was to hold Gordon on second.
+
+On the Clearfield bench the purple-hosed players cheered and cavorted,
+while on the shady side of the diamond a strange silence held. Way
+tapped the base impatiently with his favorite bat and Harry implored him
+to hit it out. Porter looked nervous for the first time.
+
+"He's up in the air!" shrieked Harry. "Wait for your base, Way. You
+don't have to hit it! He'll pass you! Here we go! Here we go! Here----"
+
+Harry paused only because Way had picked out the first ball offered him
+and had banged it across to shortstop. Gordon scurried to third and Way
+raced toward first. Shortstop got the ball on a low bound, cast a
+hurried look toward third and pelted it across to first. But the throw
+was poor and although first baseman got it he dropped it the next
+instant and the umpire spread his hands wide.
+
+"Watch home!" implored the catcher. But Gordon was taking no chances
+with only one out and contented himself with dancing up the base line a
+few yards to draw the throw. The ball went back to pitcher and pitcher
+and catcher met and held a conference. Gordon spoke to Lanny and Lanny
+nodded.
+
+"Well, I guess we've got them guessing, Harry," he called across.
+
+"Here's where we break it up, fellows!" responded Harry. "On your toes,
+Way! Here we go!"
+
+Porter glanced over his infield, tugged at his cap, hitched his
+trousers, studied the catcher's signal and wound up. But the throw was
+to first and Way was nearly caught napping. Twice more Porter tried to
+clear that base, and then, anticipating a steal, threw out to the
+catcher. But Way hugged first and only grinned, while the umpire
+announced "One ball!" Then a curve went over the corner of the plate and
+Jack Tappen had a strike on him. The Point infield was playing close and
+Jack knew that a bunt would not help any. He let the second strike go
+by, a deceptive drop, and then came the signal from Harry.
+
+"Make it be good, Jack!" called Harry. "Here we go! Here we go!"
+
+Porter wound up again and Way started for second. It was now or never
+for Jack and desperately he glued his eye to the oncoming sphere, swung
+and felt the pleasant tingle that announced that he had hit it! Then he
+was racing for the base. Shortstop had the ball a dozen feet back of the
+base line. Second baseman ran to cover that bag. Perhaps he thought a
+throw to the plate would fail to head off the speeding runner from
+third, or perhaps he had some idea of starting a double play. At all
+events, Chase tossed the ball quickly toward second. It reached there
+simultaneously with second baseman and Way. Second baseman made a grab
+for it and got it, but at that instant Way, sliding into the bag
+feet-foremost, collided with the defender of the sack and the ball
+trickled away in the dust. Gordon slid across the plate, Way was safe at
+second and Jack was grinning from first!
+
+That misadventure was the Point's undoing. Porter went to pieces then
+and there. Pete hit a liner that sent in Way, put Jack on third and
+himself on second; Lanny, enjoined to wait for his base, stood idle
+while the pitcher slammed four balls past him, and then, with the bases
+full, and one out, Fudge, with the score two strikes and two balls,
+resisted the temptation to swing and was presented with his base. Jack
+was forced across for the fourth tally.
+
+Tom, eager to add his mite to the slaughter, hit a beautiful drive
+toward left field and the runners started around. But Caspar Billings
+performed the impossible. Although the ball was at least a yard over his
+head, he knocked it down with his right, spoiling what was intended for
+a two-bagger, and sped it to the plate ten feet in front of Pete, who,
+with the possible exception of Caspar himself, was the most surprised
+youth on the field. Back flew the ball to third, but Lanny had luck with
+him and somehow managed to slide into the bag ahead of Caspar's
+descending arm.
+
+Encouraged, Rutter's Point set about getting the third out, and Porter
+settled down to deceive Harry Bryan. But Harry, realizing that in all
+probability this would be his last time at bat, and seeing what a fine
+opportunity was presented him to write his name on the annals of fame,
+was cautious and watchful. Porter worked a low ball over for a strike,
+followed it with a ball wide of the plate, coaxed him with a slow one
+that failed to entice Harry or please the umpire and then tried to sneak
+a fast one across in the groove. But Harry saw it coming, laid all his
+strength along that slender piece of ash he held and swung! And when the
+excitement was over three more runs had been piled on to Clearfield's
+score and Harry was seated, breathless but happy, on third, having lined
+out a two-base hit into deep center and taken third on the throw to the
+plate. That ended it, however, for Will Scott popped a foul into first
+baseman's hands.
+
+With the score ten to four against them the Rutter's Point team was
+discouraged and beaten. It tried half-heartedly to get a man around in
+the last of the eighth and managed to stop Clearfield in the first of
+the ninth, although some poor base-running on the part of the visitors
+did more than any efforts of the home team to save the plate in that
+inning. And in the last half of the ninth the Point actually got a
+runner as far as third. But there he stayed while the next two batsmen
+fell before Tom's slants and a third sent up a short fly that settled
+comfortably into Pete Robey's hands and brought the game to an end.
+
+Clearfield cheered Rutter's Point, in the intoxication of the moment
+using the regular High School slogan, and Rutter's Point cheered
+Clearfield and bats were gathered up and the two teams started off the
+field. They came together at the corner of the hotel and Caspar called
+to Dick: "We'd like to try you again, Lovering, some time." And Dick
+answered: "Glad to play you, Billings. We'll talk it over soon."
+
+Morris Brent laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pulled him aside. "Say,
+Gordon, I've got my car here. Come on back with me, won't you? I'll get
+you home quicker than the trolley will do it."
+
+"Why, much obliged," murmured Gordon, "but----"
+
+"Oh, come on! I want you to see how dandy it runs."
+
+"I'm not insured," laughed Gordon, trying to pull away from the other's
+detaining hand.
+
+"Oh, pshaw! I won't dump you out. I'll run as slow as you like. Come
+on."
+
+"Well, all right," agreed Gordon without enthusiasm. "Oh, Dick! I'm
+going back with Morris. I'll see you this evening."
+
+Morris led the way toward the pier, where the Clearfield road joined the
+shore avenue, and Gordon saw the blue runabout standing at the side of
+the road. It was a very attractive little car, in spite of the layer of
+gray dust which sullied the shining varnish.
+
+"Isn't she a peach?" demanded Morris. "And go! Say, I went nearly forty
+miles an hour in her the other day!"
+
+"Yes," replied Gordon dryly, "Dick saw you, I guess. He said you were
+racing with the trolley."
+
+"Oh, shucks, not that time! I was only doing about thirty then. I had to
+slow down for a team. You ought to have seen me the other morning on the
+Springdale road. That was going some, I tell you!"
+
+"Well, if you try any thirty mile stunt to-day I'll fall out the back of
+it," warned Gordon.
+
+"I won't. Wait till I start it. All right. In you get. Pretty
+comfortable seats, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes," agreed Gordon as the runabout swung around in the dusty road and
+headed toward Clearfield at a moderate speed. "Does--does your father
+know about it?"
+
+Morris chuckled. "No, not yet. I don't want him to, but I suppose some
+busybody will tell him."
+
+"Bound to," said Gordon. "Especially if you do such spectacular stunts
+as you did the other day. Folks on the trolley, Dick said, expected to
+see you go off the road any minute."
+
+"Pooh! Folks who don't drive autos always think that. Why, you're just
+as safe in this thing as you are in the trolley. Safer, I guess.
+Remember when the car jumped the track year before last and killed six
+or seven people?"
+
+"Yes, but I'll take my chances with the trolley," replied Gordon. "There
+it goes now. I wonder if the fellows caught it."
+
+"Sure. Anyway, we'll soon see. I can catch that trolley as though it was
+standing still!" Morris pulled down his throttle and the little car
+bounded forward with a deeper hum of its engine. Gordon grasped the arm
+of the seat beside him.
+
+"Never mind!" he exclaimed. "I don't care whether they did or not,
+Morris! Pull her down!"
+
+Morris obeyed, laughing. "Shucks," he said, "that wasn't fast. We were
+only going twenty-five or six miles an hour."
+
+"How do you know?" grumbled Gordon, relaxing his grip.
+
+Morris indicated the speedometer with his foot. "That thing tells you,"
+he explained. "Watch the long hand. We're doing sixteen now. I'll hit
+her up a bit. There, see the hand move around?
+Twenty--twenty-two--twenty-four----"
+
+"That'll do, thanks! And for the love of mud, Morris, keep her away from
+this fence!"
+
+"Why, there's five feet there," protested the driver.
+
+"Y-yes, but the old thing wabbles so it gives me heart failure!"
+
+"You just think it does," returned Morris. "I can keep her as straight
+as an arrow if I want to."
+
+"Want to, then, will you?" laughed Gordon uneasily. "And--and here's
+another car coming, Morris. Hadn't you better slow down a little?"
+
+"Say, you're an awful baby," commented the other. But he lowered the
+speed of the car still further and, to Gordon's relief, hugged the fence
+pretty closely while a big gray touring car shot by them in a cloud of
+dust. Morris turned a speculative, admiring gaze on it as it passed.
+
+"Thirty-five easily, she's making," he said. "Some day I'm going to have
+one like that. These little cars are all right to knock about in, but
+they're too light to get much speed out of."
+
+"How fast do you want to run, anyway?" grumbled Gordon. "Isn't twenty
+miles an hour fast enough?"
+
+"You wait till you run one and you'll see," laughed Morris. "Why, twenty
+miles will seem like standing still to you!"
+
+"It's fast enough for me," sighed Gordon. "Besides, this road is so
+rough that--_Morris!_"
+
+But Gordon's cry was too late. There was a bump, a crash, the sound of
+splintering wood, and----
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ACROSS THE GULLY
+
+
+Gordon raised himself on one aching elbow and looked dazedly about him.
+Up the bank a dozen feet away lay the blue runabout on its side, one
+forward wheel--or the remains of it--thrust through a broken panel of
+the white fence that guarded that side of the road. A cloud of dust
+still hovered above the car, proving to Gordon that the accident had
+happened but the moment before. If it was not for that he could well
+have imagined that he had lain huddled up in a clump of bushes halfway
+down the steep bank for some time. His head was spinning wildly and he
+felt horribly jarred and bruised. But a tentative effort to get to his
+feet, while it was not successful because of dizziness, showed that at
+least he had no limbs broken. A second effort, made when the clouds had
+stopped revolving overhead like a gigantic blue-and-white pin-wheel,
+brought him staggering to his feet.
+
+Strangely enough, it was not until he stood swaying unsteadily on the
+bank that he remembered Morris, or, rather, that he felt any concern for
+him. Anxiously then he looked about on every side. But no Morris was to
+be seen. Gordon called in a weak and shaky voice. There was no reply.
+Summoning his strength, Gordon crawled slowly up the side of the
+declivity, pulling himself by bushes and grass-tufts until at last he
+was clinging limply to the fence rail. There he leaned for an instant
+and closed his eyes. He felt very much as if he was going to faint, and
+perhaps he would have had he not at that moment, just as he seemed about
+to go off into a deliciously fearsome black void, heard the sound of a
+low groan.
+
+Gordon pulled himself erect, opened his eyes and tried to look about,
+but the sunlight was frantically hot and glaring and the dusty road and
+the helpless hulk of the overturned auto danced fantastically before
+him. It was a full minute before he dared attempt to again lift his head
+and look. Even then sight was uncertain. But he realized that the
+groans--he heard them quite plainly now, low and monotonous--came from
+the further side of the car. He squirmed through the stout rails and
+stepped dizzily out into the road. Then he saw Morris.
+
+He lay half in and half out of the car, one arm stretched from him in
+the dust and the other caught between the spokes of the steering wheel.
+Evidently the wheel had saved him from being thrown out as Gordon had
+been, but the latter, gazing with horror at the white face that seemed
+crushed against the dirt of the highway, surmised that it would have
+been better for Morris had he too been hurled over the fence. The
+dreadful thought that Morris was killed assailed Gordon, only to be
+banished by the comforting knowledge that dead folks don't groan.
+
+Gordon cast despairing looks up and down the road. Not a team or person
+was in sight. Then he knelt by Morris and spoke to him. But only low,
+unconscious moans answered him. Panic-stricken for an instant, Gordon
+gazed helplessly, his wits quite deserting him. Then common-sense
+whispered and he drew a deep breath of relief and seized Morris under
+the shoulders. Tug as he might, though, he could not budge the limp
+body. Then he saw why. Morris had evidently started to leap from the car
+and had got his left leg over the side when the car struck. Now that leg
+was imprisoned with the whole weight of the runabout upon it. Again
+Gordon looked along the highway for assistance, but, as before, the road
+stretched in either direction empty and deserted. Off toward town a
+cloud of dust hovered, but whether it indicated an approaching vehicle
+or a farmer's wagon moving slowly toward Clearfield there was no
+knowing. Gordon set his lips firmly, striving to close his ears to
+Morris' groans, and tried to think what to do. Perhaps if he could find
+water he could bring Morris back to consciousness, but what use to do
+that so long as the boy was pinned there under the car? No, the first
+thing to do was to set him free, and Gordon strove to think of a way to
+do it. He didn't believe for an instant that he was capable of lifting
+that car and at the same time pulling Morris' leg from beneath it. In
+fact, he doubted if he was strong enough to raise the weight of it. To
+make certain, however, he tried. It did move a little, he thought, but
+there was no question of raising it. Then he recalled seeing
+automobilists lifting their cars with jacks to put on new tires. If
+Morris had a jack----!
+
+In a moment he was struggling with the cover over the box at the rear of
+the seat. It was jammed at one corner and it took him a full minute to
+wrench it open. When he finally did, however, the lifting jack was the
+first thing he saw. It was a small contrivance, scarcely a foot high,
+and Gordon viewed it doubtfully as he hurried with it around to the
+side. Morris' leg was held down at the ankle by the edge of the
+turning-board and there was barely space between the ground and the side
+panel of the car in which to slip the jack. But it went in finally and
+Gordon began to work the handle. There was a heartening click as the
+cogs slipped into place and a cracking of frame and varnish as the car
+slowly rose. Bit by bit it went and at last Gordon pulled the imprisoned
+leg out. And not an instant too soon, for there was a lurch, the jack
+toppled sideways and the car settled back again in the dust, a forward
+wheel spinning slowly around.
+
+Gordon turned Morris over on his back, placed a seat cushion, which had
+toppled out, under his head and again viewed the road anxiously. In the
+distance the dust cloud had disappeared and the road was still empty. He
+groaned with disappointment and exasperation. Usually a half-dozen
+vehicles would have passed in the ten minutes that had elapsed. To-day,
+because Morris' life perhaps depended on getting him to a doctor, not
+one appeared! Gordon again thought of water and looked around him. Only
+dry hillside met his gaze on one side and only the equally dry gully
+separating road from trolley track on the other. But sight of the track
+gave Gordon an idea. The cars ran every quarter of an hour or so and if
+he could somehow get Morris down the bank, across the wide gully and up
+the slope on the other side it would be only a matter of a few minutes
+to town. But the distance was a good two hundred and fifty yards, he
+calculated, and Morris was no light burden. And, to increase his
+difficulties, he himself was in poor shape to make the effort. There was
+nothing else for it, however, and Gordon hurried to the fence and viewed
+the descent. A little further along was a place where the bank had at
+some time loosened and fallen in a miniature landslide and toward that
+spot Gordon was presently making his way.
+
+He tried carrying Morris in his arms, but after the first few yards he
+had to give up. Instead, he took him by the wrists and dragged him as he
+might have dragged a sack of potatoes. It was hard work getting him
+through the fence, but easier when that obstacle was negotiated, for the
+descent helped. At the bottom of the bank it was necessary to worm in
+and out between bushes, while briars caught at him and tripped him as he
+toiled backward toward the further side of the gully. Twice he stopped
+to regain his breath and mop his streaming face. And it was while he was
+taking his second rest that a buzzing, humming sound came to him from
+the direction of town, a sound that grew louder even while he turned to
+look. Far down the track, visible here for a half-mile, came one of the
+big trolleys, swaying from side to side and eating up the rails in its
+rapid flight. There was but one thing to do, and Gordon did it.
+
+Dropping Morris' wrists, he set off at a run for the track. Once he
+tripped and measured his length in the briars, but he was up again in
+the instant, while, almost at hand as it seemed, the buzzing and
+throbbing of the rails sounded. When he finally reached the foot of the
+bank it seemed that he had not enough strength left to climb it. But
+climb it he did, somehow, with toes digging into the loose gravel and
+hands clutching at the infrequent tufts of grass or weeds. And when he
+reached the top and the side of the track the plunging car was almost up
+to him.
+
+He knelt there on the edge of the embankment and waved his arms,
+shouting at the top of his exhausted lungs. A screech from the whistle
+sent its warning and then the big car was hurtling past him, the
+motorman casting a puzzled, indifferent glance as he shot by and the few
+passengers turning inquiring faces toward the boy crouched beside the
+track. Dust enveloped him and a great despair crushed him, and he did
+what was perhaps the one thing that could have stopped the car. He
+crumpled up in a heap at the ends of the ties and then rolled, slowly at
+first and then gaining momentum as he went, down the gravel slope into a
+clump of bushes at the bottom.
+
+The conductor, who had leaned outboard at the warning shriek of the
+whistle, had seen the boy and had kept his eyes on him as the car had
+gone past. "Some kid wants to get on," he explained to a passenger
+beside him on the rear platform, "but there's no stop here." Then his
+hand flew to the bell-cord. Boys didn't crumple up like that and go
+rolling down embankments for the fun of it! With a loud grinding of
+brakes the big car came shivering to a stop a hundred yards along the
+track. The conductor tugged again at the cord and slowly the car crept
+backward. By that time the passengers were on their feet and the
+conductor was hanging over the steps. Then he had dropped and was
+plunging down the embankment in a cloud of dust and a cascade of loose
+gravel, the passenger on the platform following more carefully.
+
+Gordon was already struggling to his feet when they reached him, and
+somehow he made them understand that some thirty yards away lay the
+unconscious form of Jonathan Brent's son. After that events were very
+hazy and confused to Gordon. Kindly hands pulled and lifted him up the
+embankment and into the car, where he subsided weakly on a seat. Voices
+asked questions and he tried to answer them. Someone caught sight of the
+overturned automobile and there was much pointing and much exclaiming.
+And then three men came toiling across the ground below with Morris and
+others slid and stumbled down to help them, and almost at once the big
+car was pounding back the way it had come, its strident whistle
+shrieking above the hum of the rails in an incessant warning and alarm!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE
+
+
+That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter's Point car ever made, and
+almost before Gordon realized that town had been reached, and certainly
+before he had fully recovered from his experiences, the big yellow-sided
+car was coming to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was but
+two short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged and frantic whistling had
+summoned a knot of curious persons to the corner as the car trundled
+around the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to bear the
+still unconscious form the remaining distance.
+
+Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly. Someone had sped
+ahead and when the little throng reached the house anxious faces were
+already at the doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the men who had
+carried Morris inside returned to linger about the door and await the
+doctor's verdict. The latter reached the gate a minute later, and,
+leaping from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag swinging
+briskly.
+
+There was a long wait after that. The accident was discussed in low
+voices by the small gathering outside and Gordon was forced to go
+through his story again. Presently he left the front steps and wandered
+around to the side of the house. From an upper window came the low
+mutter of voices. Near at hand was a rustic seat, placed against the
+wall of the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with a big sigh
+of relief. Inside the house a telephone bell rang shrilly. Footsteps
+hurried. The voices in the room upstairs still came indistinctly through
+the open window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he ought to
+be at home. His father would be angry with him if he was late for
+supper. But he didn't want to go until he had heard whether Morris was
+going to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable in the corner
+of the rustic seat and he would just close his eyes a minute----
+
+Someone was shaking him gently and calling "Gordon! Wake up!" He
+stretched and opened his eyes. "Yes'm," he muttered sleepily. But it
+couldn't be morning, for it was almost dark and--and where was he? He
+sat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until his
+roaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent
+bending above him. "Oh!" he said, recollection coming to him.
+
+"Have you been here all the time?" asked Louise. "You poor boy!"
+
+"I--I must have fallen asleep," admitted Gordon sheepishly. "How--how is
+he, Louise?"
+
+The girl's face went suddenly serious in the twilight. "He's pretty
+badly hurt," she said. "One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly,
+Gordon."
+
+"Is that all?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"They think so. Seems to me it's quite enough, though."
+
+"Of course, only----" Gordon heaved a sigh of relief--"I was afraid he
+was dying. He--he looked so awfully!"
+
+"Yes, didn't he?" Louise shuddered. "He is still unconscious, but Doctor
+Mayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must have
+had an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how it
+happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?"
+
+He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly.
+Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now.
+
+"But I think you were splendid," said the girl warmly. "To think of
+stopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully
+scared and--and everything. And wasn't it a wonder you weren't hurt
+too?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had been
+thrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I
+think."
+
+"I don't see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the--that
+thing you spoke of," she said admiringly. "Goodness, I'd have been so
+frightened I'd have just cried!"
+
+"I guess I'd better be going home," said Gordon.
+
+"Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven't had any supper, have you? I
+wish I'd found you here before."
+
+"I don't believe I want any," he murmured. "I--I'm mighty glad he isn't
+hurt any worse. I'll come around to-morrow if you don't mind and see how
+he is."
+
+"Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon."
+
+"I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn't he?" asked Gordon.
+
+"He's too upset and anxious now to be angry," replied Louise. "But I
+suppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all the
+time that he shouldn't run that car. It was horrid of him to get it
+without letting anyone know."
+
+"I guess he's got his punishment," replied Gordon grimly. "A broken leg
+will keep him laid up a long time. I'm awfully sorry for him.
+Good-night, Louise."
+
+It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was in
+reality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under the
+electric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper and
+Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity.
+
+"Well, Gordon, where have you been?" he asked.
+
+"Over to the Point, sir. I--we----"
+
+"I think I have told you fairly often that I do not like you to be late
+for your meals?"
+
+"Yes, sir," assented Gordon wearily.
+
+"Exactly. It is now--hm--nearly eight o'clock. I think you had better go
+up to your room. You don't deserve supper at this hour. And--hm--after
+this kindly give a little consideration to my wishes."
+
+"Yes, sir." Gordon wanted to tell him what had happened, but he was
+frightfully tired and the thought of getting upstairs and into his bed
+was very alluring. Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation was at an
+end by again hiding his face behind the newspaper and Gordon went
+indoors and quietly climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his mother
+would not hear him. But she did, and came out of her room with the
+secrecy of a conspirator.
+
+"Gordon, dear," she whispered, "your father was very angry and said you
+were to have no supper, but I put a little something on a plate for you.
+It's on your bureau. You shouldn't stay out like this, though, dear.
+Your father doesn't like it and--and it makes me worried, too."
+
+"Yes'm, I won't again," replied Gordon. "I--I'm not very hungry, though.
+I'm going to bed."
+
+"Aren't you--don't you feel well?" inquired Mrs. Merrick anxiously.
+
+"Yes'm, I'm all right. I just feel sort of tired. Good-night." He kissed
+her and went on up the second flight. Half-way up, though, he paused and
+called down in a hoarse whisper: "Thanks for the eats, ma!"
+
+In spite of his weariness, sleep didn't come readily. It was a hot,
+still night and, although his bed was drawn close to the two windows
+that looked out into the upper branches of the big elm, not much air
+penetrated to his room. He lay for a while staring out at the motionless
+leaves, intensely black in shadow and vividly green where the light from
+the big arc on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents of the
+day. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn't dangerously hurt, grateful
+for his own escape from injury and sorry that Morris would have to lie
+abed for many weeks while his broken leg knit together again. Finally he
+dozed off only to awake in a terror, imagining that he was riding in an
+automobile that was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and deep
+that the bottom was miles away! He awoke shaking and muttering and it
+took him several seconds to reassure himself and throw off the effects
+of the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until he remembered
+the plate on the bureau. He got up and brought it back to bed with him,
+and leaned on one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken and
+bread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But he wasn't really
+hungry and his appetite was soon satisfied. He put the plate on the
+floor beside him and settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nine
+and a moment later the town hall clock sounded the hour sonorously. Then
+the telephone in the first floor hall rang sharply and he heard his
+father's chair scrape on the porch and his father's feet across the
+hall.
+
+"Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?..."
+
+Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing he knew someone was
+pushing open his bedroom door cautiously and asking if he was awake.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Gordon.
+
+Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the bed. "Time you were
+asleep, son," he said concernedly. "Having trouble?"
+
+"I--I've been asleep once, sir. Something wakened me."
+
+"Hm. Er--I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the telephone, Gordon."
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"Hm. He told me about the accident, son."
+
+"Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?"
+
+"Doing very well, he said. Why didn't you--hm--why didn't you tell me
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. I was sort of tired, and----"
+
+"Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile to the trolley,
+Gordon."
+
+"It wasn't nearly that far. And I didn't carry him. He was too heavy.
+I--I pulled him."
+
+"Well, the doctor says it's a lucky thing you got him home as quick as
+you did. Mr. Brent is--hm--very grateful. He's going to stop in the
+morning and see you."
+
+"He needn't be," murmured Gordon. "It wasn't anything."
+
+"Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm--I'm sorry I was so
+short with you, son. If you'd explained----"
+
+"Yes, sir, I ought to have. It--it's all right, dad."
+
+"Well, but--if you're hungry, Gordon----"
+
+"I'm not, sir. I--no, sir, I'm not."
+
+"If you are I guess you and I can forage around and find something. Sure
+you wouldn't like a little bite?"
+
+"No, sir, thank you."
+
+"Well--hm----" Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pressed it.
+"Sorry I scolded, son. I--we--we're proud of you, boy."
+
+Gordon didn't answer. It was rather embarrassing and he was glad of the
+darkness.
+
+"Good-night, Gordon."
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunching
+china and an exclamation.
+
+"What's this?" asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
+
+"It--it's a plate, sir. Mother--that is----"
+
+"Hm," said Mr. Merrick, and then again "Hm!" He pushed the broken
+fragments under the bed. "I--hm--I can understand that you aren't very
+hungry," he said dryly. "Evidently your mother--hm--well, good-night,
+Gordie."
+
+The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond the
+window. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn't his father would
+never have called him Gordie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+GORDON BEARS A MESSAGE
+
+
+Gordon was up at seven the next morning, having had, as he reckoned, a
+good nine hours and more of sleep. At breakfast he told again the story
+of the accident, this time to an interested audience of three. The third
+was Fudge, who, since almost an hour before, had been hanging around
+waiting for Gordon's appearance, and who now was seated at table with a
+cup of coffee and one of Mrs. Merrick's graham muffins in front of him.
+Fudge acknowledged that he had rather skimped his breakfast. Mr. Merrick
+mildly censured Gordon for accepting Morris Brent's invitation to ride,
+but it was evident that he was too proud of Gordon's part in the affair
+to be severe. Fudge was anxious to know what had become of the runabout
+and Gordon replied that so far as he knew it was just where they had
+left it.
+
+"I guess," he said, "it's pretty badly smashed up. I know one wheel has
+about all the spokes out of it, and I think the axle is busted. Still, I
+dare say it can be mended."
+
+"B-b-bet you Morris will never run it again, though," said Fudge. "Guess
+it's a good chance for someone to buy an auto cheap. Wish I could!"
+
+"Why, William!" murmured Mrs. Merrick. "The idea!"
+
+"Oh, a fellow doesn't have to run it the way Morris did," replied Fudge
+knowingly. "Tim Turner's father has had a car for two years and he's
+never had an accident yet."
+
+"Why don't you see Mr. Brent?" suggested Gordon. "I dare say he will let
+you have it for almost nothing."
+
+Fudge thrust a hand in a pocket and gravely counted the change he drew
+out. "If he'll let me have it for sixty-three cents I'll take it," he
+said.
+
+Mr. Merrick pushed back his chair. "If I ever hear of either of you
+riding in an automobile without permission I'll see that you get what
+you deserve," he said grimly.
+
+Fudge grinned. "You'd have to catch me first," he said.
+
+Gordon announced his intention of running over to see Dick and his
+father reminded him that Mr. Brent was going to call. Gordon replied
+evasively that he guessed Mr. Brent had changed his mind. He secretly
+hoped that he had. But when, after Mr. Merrick's departure for his
+office, Gordon wheeled his bicycle down the steps he saw Mr. Brent
+coming along the street, his ivory-topped walking-stick thumping the
+pavement briskly. Escape was impossible and so Gordon leaned his wheel
+against the gate post and waited. Fudge melted into the background. Mr.
+Brent was about the only person Fudge was in awe of.
+
+"Well, my boy," greeted Mr. Brent, "you got off lucky."
+
+"Yes, sir. I'm awfully sorry about Morris. How is he?"
+
+"Better than he deserves," replied Mr. Brent with a snap of his jaws.
+"The doctor tells me it will be six weeks or more before he will be on
+his feet again. I suppose he was running the thing like mad, wasn't he?"
+
+"No, sir, he was going quite slowly. I don't know just how it happened,
+Mr. Brent. I think there must have been a bad place in the road."
+
+"Of course it wasn't his fault," said the other dryly. "Well, it was a
+merciful thing he had you with him, my boy. His mother and I are very
+grateful to you, Merrick. You did a very plucky thing."
+
+"It wasn't anything," muttered Gordon, looking longingly at his wheel.
+Perhaps Mr. Brent saw that he was more than willing to avoid further
+expressions of gratitude, for he smiled and said:
+
+"Well, that's all. I wanted to see you and thank you. And as I told your
+father last night I'm ready and anxious to prove my gratitude to you. If
+there's anything I can do, Merrick, you call on me."
+
+"Thank you, sir, but I guess there isn't anything."
+
+"Perhaps some day there will be. When that time comes don't forget what
+I say, Merrick. I wish you'd stop in at the house to-day or to-morrow
+and see Mrs. Brent. She wants to see you, my boy. And after Morris gets
+where he can talk to folks I'd like you to pay him a visit too. He
+doesn't deserve it, but--well, I guess he's in for a long, hard siege of
+it."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will. I--I was going to call to-day and ask after him, but
+now that I know how he is----"
+
+"Better go just the same. My wife is anxious to tell you how she feels
+about it, Merrick. She can do it better than I can, too. Your father at
+home?"
+
+"No, sir, he's gone down town."
+
+"That's where I ought to be. I waited around for the doctor to call. By
+the way, Merrick, there's something you can do for me if you will. See
+this man Stacey and get him to take that automobile away from there. If
+I talk to him I'll fly off the handle and tell him what I think of him.
+I don't care what he does with the thing. He may burn it up or fix it up
+or anything he likes, but you tell him from me that he will never get
+another cent in payment. Will you do that?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I'll see him right away. I guess the car will be worth quite
+a good deal after it's fixed up. I mean, sir, I don't think Mr. Stacey
+will be out much."
+
+"I don't care if he is," replied Mr. Brent grimly. "Morris tells me he
+paid three hundred and fifty dollars and owes about two hundred more. He
+will never get it. You tell him so. If he wants to sue, let him. I wish
+he would!" Mr. Brent flicked angrily with his cane at a spray of leaves
+that peeked through the fence. "Well, I'll be grateful if you'll attend
+to that for me, Merrick. Good morning."
+
+After Mr. Brent had gone Gordon summoned Fudge with a whistle and that
+youth sauntered around from the back yard. "I guess Stacey will be mad,"
+he commented when Gordon had told him of the commission he had accepted.
+"I'll go along with you. I like a scrap."
+
+"There isn't going to be any scrap," said Gordon. "I'll just tell him
+what Mr. Brent says and come away."
+
+"All right. Wait till I get my wheel."
+
+Mr. Stacey's place of business was on Oak Street, a smart shop with two
+big plate-glass windows behind which were displayed shining new
+automobiles. The proprietor was a small man under thirty who affected
+brilliant neckties and a jovial smile. But the smile faded when Gordon
+delivered his message. Mr. Stacey looked angry and ugly.
+
+"Is that so?" he demanded truculently. "Old Jonathan Brent said that,
+did he? Well, you tell him I hold Morris' note for two hundred and
+thirty-five dollars and I mean to collect it. Why, that car's no good to
+me, son! What would I do with it? It isn't mine, anyway. I sold it
+fairly and squarely. If he wants me to fetch it in and have it repaired
+I'll do it and charge him only what it costs, but as to taking it back
+and calling quits--nothing doing, son. You tell him that, see?"
+
+"It isn't my affair," replied Gordon calmly. "I've only told you what
+Mr. Brent asked me to. Why don't you talk to him about it?"
+
+"Because I haven't any dealings with him. I sold that car to his son. If
+he wants to talk to me let him come here or call me up on the telephone.
+It's nothing to me. I've got Morris Brent's note----"
+
+"It isn't worth anything," piped up Fudge, who found proceedings dull.
+"He isn't old enough to give a note."
+
+"We'll see whether he's old enough," was the answer. "I'll go to court
+with it if it isn't paid prompt. Get me?"
+
+"Sure. But Jonathan Brent's a bad man to fight, I guess," said Fudge
+with a shake of his head. "I wouldn't want to do it."
+
+"Maybe you wouldn't." Mr. Stacey had to smile in spite of himself. "But
+I would--if I had to. I'm not in this business for my health, son. You
+tell Mr. Brent that if he wants me to haul that car in and repair it
+I'll do it, but I won't take it back."
+
+"All right," answered Gordon. "Seems to me, though, you could fix it up
+for a few dollars and have a perfectly good car."
+
+"There's no market here for second-hand cars," replied the dealer
+shortly. "Tell you what I will do, though. I'll fix that car up as good
+as new as cheap as it can be done and take it on sale. Maybe I'd find a
+buyer for it."
+
+"You mean you'll let Morris off on the balance he owes?"
+
+"No, sir, I don't mean anything of the sort! I mean that he's to pay
+what he owes when it comes due. If I can sell the machine he'll get what
+it fetches, less my commission of twenty per cent. Understand?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell Mr. Brent what you say," agreed Gordon. "But I don't
+believe he will be willing to have it that way."
+
+"There's no other way he can have it," snarled Mr. Stacey. "He may have
+a heap of money and own this town, but he don't own me! And he can't
+cheat me out of what belongs to me, either! And you can tell him so! You
+tell him that if that two-thirty-five isn't paid by the tenth of October
+I'll sue for it."
+
+"Think of him suing Mr. Brent!" chuckled Fudge as they went out.
+
+"I guess he'd have a pretty good case, though," said Gordon. "Of course
+Morris _does_ owe that money to him."
+
+"Pshaw, Morris' note isn't worth a cent."
+
+"Maybe not; I don't know about that; but he's morally liable, isn't he?"
+
+"I guess so. Going to tell Mr. Brent now, Gordie?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "Not--not right away. I think I'll see Dick
+first. I told him I'd be over last night."
+
+Fudge chuckled again. "You're scared," he said. "I'd be, too. Tell you
+what, Gordie; tell him over the 'phone, why don't you?"
+
+"I was thinking of letting you tell him, Fudge."
+
+"Me! Gee, I wouldn't d-d-do it if he g-g-gave me the car!"
+
+They found Dick on the porch. "Hail to the Hero!" he declaimed.
+
+"Shut up!" said Gordon.
+
+"Modesty is very becoming," pursued Dick. "Hello, Fudge. I'm glad to see
+you in such distinguished society. Sit down, Gordie, and tell me about
+it. First, though, how's Morris getting on? Lanny told me that he was
+pretty well broken to pieces."
+
+"He's got a busted leg. Broken in two places. That's all. He was
+unconscious when they brought him home, but he's all right that way now.
+There isn't much to tell. We were coming along that stretch where the
+white fence is and----"
+
+Gordon went through with it again, Fudge interpolating details where
+Gordon failed to do full justice to the narrative. Afterward Gordon told
+about his visit to the automobile agent. "I don't know what to do," he
+ended. "I hate to tell Mr. Brent what that fellow said, Dick."
+
+"I don't see why. It isn't your fault. Besides, Mr. Brent is in the
+wrong, anyway. It's Morris' duty to pay what he owes. The dealer isn't
+supposed to find out before he makes a sale whether the buyer's
+relatives want him to own a car!"
+
+"That's all very well," grumbled Gordon, "but he will be as mad as a
+March hare. I don't see why he got me to do it for him, anyway."
+
+"Because you've made a hit with him," laughed Dick. "I believe if you
+asked for it you could get a yearly pass over the trolley line. And
+speaking of trolleys reminds me that I've got to hustle over to the
+Point and get busy with young Mr. Townsend. What time is it?"
+
+It was almost ten, and Dick seized his crutches and swung himself
+hurriedly into the house to reappear a minute later ready for the
+journey. Gordon and Fudge walked to the corner with him.
+
+"How about another game with those fellows, Dick?" asked Gordon. "Are
+you going to see Billings to-day?"
+
+"If you want me to. There's time enough, though, I guess. We've got a
+game with Lesterville the day after to-morrow, as you perhaps recall."
+
+"I know, but I was thinking we might get the Pointers to come over and
+play us a week from Saturday. You might see what Billings thinks about
+it."
+
+"All right. If I can find him I'll ask. By the way, he'll have to find
+someone to take Morris' place, won't he? Guess, though, it won't be hard
+to do. Here comes my car. See you later, fellows."
+
+Gordon and Fudge mounted their wheels again when the trolley had rolled
+off and pedaled leisurely along Sawyer Street.
+
+"Too bad," observed Fudge, "that Dick hasn't got that automobile,
+Gordie. It would save him a lot of hard work, wouldn't it? Say, someone
+may run off with it if it stays out there on the road much longer. Bet
+you half of it's gone already!"
+
+There was no reply from Gordon, who was riding slowly along with his
+gaze fixed intently on his handle-bar.
+
+"You ought to have hidden it behind a tree or something before you came
+away, Gordie."
+
+"Eh? Hidden what?"
+
+"The automobile, of course. Say, what did you think I was talking about,
+anyway?"
+
+"I guess I didn't hear you," replied Gordon apologetically. "I--I was
+thinking."
+
+"Some day you'll be doing that and get run down by a trolley car,"
+commented Fudge crushingly. "What were you thinking about?"
+
+"Nothing much," answered Gordon. "Want to play some tennis?"
+
+"My racket's busted. I can borrow Lanny's, though. But I guess it's too
+hot for tennis, isn't it?"
+
+"Maybe. I suppose, anyway, I'd ought to see Mr. Brent and tell him what
+that fellow said. There's no use putting it off. Will you come with me?"
+
+"Not to speak of! I'd do most anything for you, Gordie, but not that!"
+
+"Well, ride down town with me. You needn't go in."
+
+"That's fair. And I'll try to catch you when he drops you out the
+window. Come on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+FUDGE SCENTS A SECRET
+
+
+Mr. Brent was not in. The clerk, recognizing Gordon as the youth who had
+called previously and been admitted, explained, in answer to his look of
+perplexity, that Mr. Brent had been suddenly called to New York and
+would be gone at least overnight.
+
+"He didn't leave any message for me, did he?" asked the boy.
+
+"No. He went away hurriedly. If it's very important, you can reach him
+in New York by telephone this afternoon."
+
+Gordon departed, shaking his head. On the sidewalk he was presently
+joined by Fudge, who came out of Castle's drug store, a few doors away,
+with a suspicious moistness about the mouth.
+
+"You're soon back," he said. "Did he throw you out?"
+
+"He's away. Gone to New York. Now what'll I do?"
+
+"Do nothing. That's easy. I should think you'd be tickled to death."
+
+"But that automobile can't stay out there on the road forever, Fudge.
+Someone will steal it or pull it to pieces or something. I guess I'll go
+over to the Brents' and see what Louise thinks we'd better do."
+
+"Huh! What's a girl know about it?" demanded Fudge. "Say, I had a soda.
+Want one?"
+
+Gordon shook his head at first but finally allowed himself to be
+conducted to the front of the long white marble counter. A nice cold
+raspberry phosphate is an awfully good thing to soothe the mind, and
+Gordon felt more cheerful when he emerged. Fudge, who had followed his
+original root beer with a pineapple phosphate, confided to Gordon on the
+way home that he believed he'd apply at Castle's for a job at the soda
+fountain.
+
+"You see," he explained, "I never had enough soda yet, and if I worked
+there I'll bet I'd have a dandy time!"
+
+Gordon postponed his call at Brentwood until after dinner and in the
+meanwhile presented his problem to his father. Mr. Merrick's advice was
+caution. He thought Gordon had best let the automobile alone unless he
+obtained authority from Mr. Brent or perhaps Mrs. Brent to rescue it.
+When he reached Brentwood he asked for Louise and that young lady soon
+joined him. Morris, she reported, was very comfortable, considering the
+fact that his left leg was in a cast, but the doctor didn't want him to
+see anyone quite yet. Gordon was secretly relieved, for he was afraid he
+wouldn't know just how to behave or just what to say to an invalid.
+Louise led the way to the porch and then disappeared in search of her
+mother. When that lady appeared Gordon had to listen to many nice things
+and many expressions of gratitude, all of which embarrassed him
+horribly.
+
+Mrs. Brent was a short, comfortably stout lady with soft, quiet manners
+and a voice to match. Gordon liked her immensely, but just now he found
+himself wishing that he might have escaped her. It was Louise who,
+noting his unhappiness, finally came to his rescue.
+
+"There, mama, you're embarrassing Gordon awfully. I'm sure he doesn't
+want to be thanked any more. Besides, he didn't come to make a social
+call; he's here on important business. He told me so."
+
+Gordon explained the difficulty about the abandoned automobile and asked
+them what he had better do. "You see," he pointed out, "Mr. Stacey won't
+go after it unless someone tells him to. I was thinking that perhaps the
+best thing would be to have one of the liverymen bring it back and keep
+it until Mr. Brent decides about it."
+
+"Well, I don't know what to say," replied Mrs. Brent. "If Mr. Brent says
+he won't pay the man the rest of the money, why, he won't, and that's
+all there is to that. But, of course, the automobile can't stay on the
+road. I suppose, Louise, we oughtn't to worry Morris with it just yet."
+
+"Goodness, no! What does it matter what happens to the horrid old thing,
+anyway, mama? Let someone bring it into town and keep it. I'm sure
+Morris will never want to see it again, even if papa is willing; and of
+course he won't be."
+
+"Then if Gordon will see to it----"
+
+"Yes'm, I will. I'll get Stewart to go after it. I guess he can pull it
+if he puts a timber under the broken wheel. There wouldn't be room in
+your stable for it, would there?"
+
+"Yes, there would," replied Louise. "There's lots of room in the
+carriage-house. Tell Stewart to bring it here, Gordon."
+
+"All right. That would be the best thing, I guess. Stewart would
+probably charge storage for it if he kept it at his stable. I suppose he
+will want quite a little money to haul it in, too."
+
+"Tell him to charge it to papa, Gordon. Do you mind attending to it?
+It's awfully nice of you to take so much trouble for us. You'll begin to
+think we're a pretty bothersome family, I'm afraid."
+
+"I don't mind at all. I'm glad to, Louise. I wish you'd remember me to
+Morris, please. I--I'll call and see him some time after he's able to
+have visitors. Is there anything I can do for him, Mrs. Brent?"
+
+"I think not, Gordon. You've done so much already----"
+
+"I couldn't have done any less," murmured Gordon hurriedly, fearing that
+Mrs. Brent was about to express her gratitude again. "Folks--folks made
+more of it than it--really amounted to. I guess I'll go and see Stewart.
+I hope Morris will get along finely and--and everything."
+
+"I suppose," he said, after he had bade good-bye to Mrs. Brent, "you
+won't get over to the Point for some time, Louise."
+
+"No, not for a month, probably. I don't mind a great deal. The main
+thing is to get Morris well again. It's going to be terribly dull and
+stupid for him, Gordon."
+
+"Fierce!" They had paused at the gate. "If there's anything I can do, or
+anything any of us can do, Louise----"
+
+"Not now, but you can do a lot later," she replied smilingly. "You can
+come and see him and cheer him up in a day or two. Will you?"
+
+"Of course! Glad to! And I'll bring the other fellows, too."
+
+"I guess there aren't very many others, are there?"
+
+"Many others?" he asked.
+
+"Many others who would care to come, I mean. Morris doesn't seem to have
+very many boy friends, does he?"
+
+"Why, I don't know. I guess every fellow likes Morris----"
+
+"Fibber! Never mind, though. You come when you can, Gordon. Good-bye.
+I'll tell Ryan to get a place ready for the automobile."
+
+His way to Stewart's stable led him past Lanny's house and he slowed
+down as he reached the gate and whistled. Lanny appeared from around the
+house with a bicycle chain dangling in his hand.
+
+"Come on over to Stewart's stable with me," commanded Gordon.
+
+"Can't." Lanny exhibited the chain. "Chain's busted. I've been trying to
+fix it, but I think I'll have to take it to the shop."
+
+"Bring it along, then, and we'll walk. I'll stick my wheel back of the
+fence here. I've got something I want to talk to you about."
+
+"All right. Wait till I get some of this dirt off my hands. It won't
+take a minute." As a matter of fact, it took five, and Gordon was
+established comfortably on the horse-block in front of the gate when
+Lanny returned. Together they went on along B Street and turned into
+River Street, talking very earnestly all the way and more than once
+pausing stock-still on the sidewalk. Whatever the subject of
+conversation was, it was easy to see that Lanny was both interested and
+enthusiastic, and at last, just before their halting progress landed
+them outside the livery stable, Lanny clapped a hand on Gordon's
+shoulder.
+
+"It's a peach of a scheme!" he declared. "Does he know anything about
+it?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "I just thought of it awhile ago, after I'd seen
+him. I don't think we'd better say anything to him about it, Lanny,
+because he'd probably refuse."
+
+"That's so. The best way is to go ahead and do it--and tell him
+afterward." Lanny chuckled. "The other fellows will have to know,
+though."
+
+"Yes, but we'll make them promise not to talk. Gee, if I don't hurry
+that automobile will stay out another night, I guess!"
+
+But fortunately Mr. Stewart had a truck and horses that could be at once
+dispatched on the errand and the two boys waited while the expedition
+made ready. Mr. Stewart himself, a good-natured little red-faced
+Scotchman, proposed to accompany the truck and personally superintend
+the project. Afterward Gordon went with Lanny to the bicycle repair shop
+and waited while a new link was put in the broken chain. Later in the
+afternoon they mounted their wheels and, with Fudge, who had joined them
+meanwhile, rode over to the back entrance of Brentwood and awaited the
+arrival of the automobile. It came about half-past five and was rolled
+into a corner of the big carriage-house. Then Gordon and Lanny and Fudge
+took stock of injuries. One wheel was smashed and the front axle was
+bent. It didn't require an expert to determine that much. For the rest,
+barring a broken lantern and bent fenders and a dent in the radiator,
+the car was as good as new so far as they could see.
+
+"I wish I knew enough about cars to try it and see if the engine is all
+right," said Gordon. "But I don't see how anything can be wrong there,
+do you?"
+
+"No, I guess the wheels will go around same as before," said Lanny. "How
+much do you suppose it will cost to fix it up?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "Maybe thirty dollars," he said finally. "What do
+you think?"
+
+"Bet it will be nearer a hundred," said Fudge. "Repairs on automobiles
+cost like anything."
+
+"Fudge knows," remarked Lanny. "His repair bills are something
+frightful, aren't they, Fudge? Why, he was saying just the other day,
+Gordie, that he had half a mind to sell two or three of his cars!"
+
+"Th-that's all right," sputtered Fudge. "I've heard Mr. T-T-Turner say
+th-th-that----"
+
+"Of course you have," agreed Gordon soothingly. "By the way, Lanny,
+heard the latest? Fudge is going to get a job with Castle at the soda
+fountain."
+
+"That s-s-s-s-so?" laughed Lanny.
+
+"Yes. Can't you see Fudge, with a white apron on, leaning across the
+counter asking, 'What kind of s-s-s-s-soda will you have, Miss?'"
+
+"'S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,'" responded Lanny.
+
+"'S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we're all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla. We've got
+s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate, though.'"
+
+"Oh, dry up," said Fudge, with a grin. "If you fellows come around there
+I'll p-p-poison you!"
+
+"Well, come on, fellows, it's supper time," said Lanny. "Don't you take
+that car out and go 'joy riding,' Mr. Ryan."
+
+"Huh!" growled the Brent coachman, who had viewed the proceedings with
+deep pessimism. "I wouldn't touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How
+do I know it won't be blowin' me up some fine night?"
+
+"It won't if you treat it kindly," Fudge assured him. "Give it plenty of
+oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and a drink of gasoline now and then and it'll
+be as quiet as a lamb."
+
+They left the coachman muttering over the harness he was cleaning and
+got on their wheels. "Who will you get to look at it?" asked Lanny as
+they rolled homeward.
+
+"I don't know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I'll have to talk with
+Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I guess. And maybe it won't come to
+anything."
+
+"What won't?" asked Fudge suspiciously.
+
+"Never you mind, son. It's something that doesn't concern little boys."
+
+"Go on and tell me," begged Fudge. "Is it a secret?"
+
+"It wouldn't be if you knew it," answered Gordon unkindly.
+
+"I'd like to know when I ever blabbed anything," exclaimed Fudge
+indignantly. "Didn't I know all about Charlie Matthews a whole week
+before anyone else did? And didn't I----"
+
+"Well, we may tell you some time," teased Gordon. "What do you think,
+Lanny?"
+
+"I guess so. It would cost money to advertise it in the paper, and
+so----"
+
+"Oh, you make me tired," growled Fudge. "I don't want to know it anyway.
+'Tain't anything, I'll bet!"
+
+"Not a thing, Fudge," agreed Lanny.
+
+"Then what you so--so mysterious about?" Fudge demanded.
+
+"To arouse your curiosity, Fudge. Good-night, Gordie. Maybe you'd better
+tell him before he busts up. Good-night, Fudge. Say, we play Lesterville
+Saturday, don't we?"
+
+"You bet! And don't forget practice again to-morrow. We want to beat
+those fellows."
+
+"Well, we've got a perfect record so far," laughed Lanny. "Our
+percentage is one thousand. Played one, won one, lost none. Are the
+Pointers going to play us again?"
+
+"Sure! I told Dick to see Caspar Billings to-day if he had a chance and
+see if they'd come over here a week from Saturday."
+
+"That's good. Bet you, though, they lick us next time. So long."
+
+Lanny sped homeward and Gordon and Fudge parted midway between their
+gates. "You come over after supper, Fudge, and I'll tell you what that
+is we were talking about."
+
+"Thanks, but I guess I don't care to know," replied Fudge a trifle
+haughtily. Gordon laughed.
+
+"Don't be a chump. We were only fooling. All the fellows are going to
+know about it, but I'll tell you first if you'll come over."
+
+"You told Lanny first," Fudge objected doubtfully. "But--I'll come."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A REVERSED DECISION
+
+
+Two days later the Clearfield Baseball Club met at the railroad station
+shortly after dinner time and boarded the train for Lesterville. Only
+Harry Bryan was missing. A press of business had developed at the
+grocery store and Mr. Bryan had, to Harry's sorrow, set his foot down on
+a Saturday holiday. A small youth named Tim Turner, a youthful crony of
+Fudge's, was drafted to play in right field and Jack Tappen was moved to
+second in Harry's place.
+
+None of the fellows was very hopeful of beating Lesterville, for the
+neighboring mill town had maintained for several years a nine which
+averaged fully two years older than Clearfield. But, as Dick pointed
+out, the game would be fine practice, even if they were beaten. "We
+really need," said Dick, "to run up against a spanking good nine and see
+how the game is played."
+
+Some of the fellows hooted at that, but Dick only smiled. "That's all
+right," he replied. "I'll wager that you'll learn one or two tricks
+to-day worth knowing."
+
+"What's their pitcher like?" inquired Fudge anxiously.
+
+"They have two of them, Fudge, and they're both pretty good."
+
+"They won't be hard for Fudge," said Pete Robey. "Fudge will eat 'em
+alive!"
+
+"Bet you I make as many hits as you do," responded Fudge eagerly. "Come
+on, now! Wh-wh-what do you say?"
+
+But Pete only grinned and shook his head. You couldn't start an argument
+with Pete.
+
+On the way to Lesterville Dick exhibited a list of games which he had
+already arranged. Rutter's Point was to play a return contest on the
+High School field a week from to-day, Logan was to visit Clearfield the
+following Wednesday and Corwin was to come a week later. "We have next
+Wednesday open," explained Dick, "and a week from Saturday. I don't
+believe we'll be able to find a game for Wednesday, but I've written
+Shirley at Springdale to get up a team to play us that Saturday. I've
+told him we'd go over there."
+
+"Fine!" exclaimed Tom Haley. "I'd love to have another chance at those
+fellows!"
+
+"Well, I suppose it won't be quite the same team that we played last
+month," said Dick. "I dare say some of their fellows have gone away for
+the summer. But that gives us three games anyhow, and perhaps four. And
+I heard of a team over at Locust Valley which may like to play us."
+
+"All those games are at home, too," reflected Lanny. "How about trying
+that scheme to charge admission, Dick?"
+
+"No harm in trying it," returned the manager thoughtfully. "Whether it
+will go or not we'll have to see. We could get a few notices printed and
+stick them around in the windows down town. And I guess the paper will
+announce the games if we ask."
+
+"A lot of folks will pay a quarter to see a good game," said Jack
+Tappen.
+
+"Would you?" challenged Gordon.
+
+"Sure," laughed Jack, "if I had the quarter!"
+
+"Not if he could find a crack in the fence," said Fudge.
+
+"Look here," announced Will Scott, "someone said they were surveying the
+athletic field, Dick. Suppose they start to work there in a day or two.
+We couldn't play those games, could we?"
+
+"In that case we'll play the teams on their own grounds."
+
+"It makes it pretty expensive," objected Way. "I'm nearly broke now. If
+I lose my return ticket someone will have to pay my fare back."
+
+"Oh, the walking's good," replied Tom carelessly.
+
+"Another thing," said Lanny. "If we play away from home we can't make
+any money."
+
+At that most of the fellows observed each other with questioning and
+somewhat dismayed glances. Dick, studying his list, replied:
+
+"That doesn't make much difference, does it? None of those places are
+far away and it won't break us to pay trolley fares. After all, we don't
+need the money as far as I see."
+
+"Don't we!" exploded Jack. "We need it like anything!"
+
+Curtis Wayland kicked him on the ankle and Jack subsided.
+
+"What for?" asked Dick, mildly surprised. "We've got four balls that
+haven't been used and three that are still good. We've got bats and
+gloves and a mask and about everything else. I thought we were in this
+for the fun of it. What do we want to make money for?"
+
+But Jack only mumbled, while the others regarded him with threatening
+looks. Will Scott changed the subject gracefully.
+
+"You fellows don't want to forget that there's a meeting to-night about
+the new field. You'd better all show up. We want to get as many there as
+possible."
+
+"Thought it was just a meeting of the committee," said Gordon.
+
+"No, it's public. We want to find out what the fellows think about it
+before we go ahead and do anything."
+
+"I don't see that there's more than one thing we can think about it,"
+observed Tom. "The old field's going and we've got to have another.
+That's dead simple."
+
+"Yes, but we may have to rent ground," replied Way. "And we want to know
+how far out of town fellows are willing to go. And how much we ought to
+pay."
+
+"And whether to get a place on the town side or across the river.
+There's a field over toward the Point, right near the car line, that
+might do."
+
+"That's a long way from school, though," objected Fudge.
+
+"Any place we find is going to be a long way," replied Will. "There
+isn't any place in town big enough to play baseball on. As a matter of
+fact, the whole thing is a good deal of a puzzle. It's going to cost us
+a lot of money, any way you look at it. We've got to have a new track
+and we've got to fence the field in and move the grandstand to it. It's
+going to cost like sixty. I wish old man Brent had to make us a present
+of the old field or lose his money."
+
+"Stingy old codger," muttered Fudge.
+
+"There's no sense in blaming Mr. Brent, Fudge," said Dick. "We ought to
+be grateful to him for letting us have the field as long as he has. What
+we'll have to do is get subscriptions from the graduates and anyone else
+we can. The next station is ours, fellows. Get your bags together."
+
+Lesterville was an unlovely town filled with smoking chimneys and the
+busy whirr of looms. A muddy canal intersected it and on either side
+immense brick mill buildings ran for the better part of a mile. But the
+boys didn't tarry long in the town. A green trolley car bore them
+swiftly away from the belching chimneys and the hot, weary looking
+streets and out to the edge of the country. The ball ground was
+surrounded by a sagging fence and was ridiculously small. A long hit
+down the right or left foul line was certain to go over the fence, while
+even a good clout into center was likely to disappear through some hole
+in the rotting boards. A few unsheltered seats were clustered close to
+the first base line and these were already occupied when the Clearfield
+team arrived. The dressing-room was a ten-foot square space, unroofed,
+thrown together behind the stand. As the fellows changed into their togs
+the spectators on the top row of seats looked down upon them and offered
+sarcastic advice and rude comments. Fudge in particular aroused their
+humor and he was pestered so that he got his playing shirt on wrong side
+to.
+
+The Lesterville nine was a pretty husky aggregation. Most of them were
+mill employees and their average age must have been fully eighteen. The
+audience was particularly partisan and offensive, and Dick, settling
+himself on the visitors' bench in the broiling sun and opening his
+score-book, reflected that it was perhaps well that there was no
+likelihood of Clearfield going home with the ball. He fancied that the
+hundred or so local sympathizers would make it quite uncomfortable for
+the visiting team if it won!
+
+There's no necessity of following Clearfield's fortunes that afternoon
+in detail. The contest was fairly featureless up to the eighth inning.
+The visitors could do nothing with Moriarity, the Lesterville pitcher,
+only three hits, one of them distinctly scratchy, accruing to their
+score and bringing in but one tally. On the other hand the home team
+showed itself very capable with the stick and Tom Haley's best offerings
+were not puzzling after the second inning.
+
+A slight attack of stage-fright in that round on the part of Clearfield
+aided the home players. Almost every member of the visitors' infield
+managed to make an error, while Tom's wild throw to first in the third
+allowed Lesterville to add two runs to her already swelling score. When
+the eighth inning began Lesterville had nine runs to Clearfield's one,
+and there seemed no reason to suppose that the final tally would be any
+more complimentary to Clearfield.
+
+Dick had predicted that his charges would learn some new tricks and his
+prediction was verified. Clearfield was the innocent victim of several
+plays quite outside her ken. Unfortunately, most of them were the sort
+she didn't care to emulate. For instance, when Curtis Wayland tried to
+steal second on Jack Tappen's lucky grounder into short right he failed
+for the simple reason that second baseman and shortstop occupied the
+base line and Way had to crawl around them to touch the bag.
+Unfortunately, by that time right fielder had sped the ball to
+shortstop, and the umpire, a young gentleman whose impartiality had all
+along been in grave doubt, ruled Way out. Of course Clearfield
+protested. Way lost his head and threatened bodily injury to the second
+baseman, who topped him by six inches, and some dozen or so Lesterville
+youths flocked to the scene. Gordon, however, lugged Way, protesting
+bitterly, from the field and then quietly asked the umpire to reverse
+his decision. But the umpire wouldn't even listen and there was nothing
+for the visitors to do but swallow their indignation and accept the
+ruling. Again, earlier in the contest, the Lesterville pitcher objected
+to having a new ball thrown to him after Lanny had fouled a soiled one
+into the street, and turning, threw the new one far into center field.
+The center fielder refused to go after it and the umpire yielded,
+throwing out another old ball.
+
+Still, Lesterville did show some playing that the visitors opened their
+eyes at. Such base-running Gordon's team had never witnessed. One
+red-headed youth named Myers never failed to steal second yards ahead of
+the ball and on one occasion stole all the way around the bases,
+reaching home on Tom's wind-up and subsequent hurried and wild pitch.
+The Lesterville fellows were born ball players and had graduated from
+the back lots outside the factories. They knew every trick of the game
+and used them all.
+
+When Clearfield went to bat in the eighth it was Jack's turn with the
+stick and Jack connected with a straight one and slammed it far out into
+left field, where it banged against the fence and rolled away from the
+fielder while Jack reached second with time to spare. Tim Turner fanned,
+Pete Robey worked a pass and Lanny hit into what should have been an
+easy double. But the Lesterville second baseman fumbled the ball and the
+bases were full. Unfortunately, with one out, it was Fudge's turn at bat
+and Tom Haley followed Fudge. It looked to the visitors on the bench
+very much like another shut-out. But Fudge, perhaps still smarting under
+the gibes that had been thrown at him all the afternoon, surprised
+himself and everyone else by hitting cleanly between first and second.
+Two runs came in, Lanny reached third and Fudge stood panting on first.
+Tom Haley went out on strikes and Will Scott came to bat. Fudge stole
+without challenge. Will fouled off three and had two balls to his
+credit. Then something that looked good came his way and he swung at it
+mightily. The ball streaked far out into center field and the bases
+emptied. Will got to second safely, heard the frantic cries of the
+coachers and sprinted for third. Then in came the ball to shortstop, and
+that youth turned quickly and pegged to third. The sphere went fully
+four feet above third baseman's head and Will legged it home while his
+team-mates on the bench shouted and cavorted and Dick, being unable to
+jump around, beat the ground with a crutch!
+
+Nine to seven looked a heap better than nine to one, and there was still
+but one man out. Clearfield had ecstatic visions of a victory. But the
+Lesterville pitcher settled down and disposed of Gordon with five
+pitched balls and made Way pop up an easy fly to right fielder, and the
+eighth inning was over for the visitors.
+
+Lesterville came back in her half with vigor and poor Tom was kept
+dodging liners that soon filled the bases. But the home team had a
+streak of bad luck in that inning. The runner from third was struck by a
+streaking liner that was meant for left field, and, fortunately for the
+opponents, the ball, after colliding sharply with the base-runner's leg,
+rolled toward the pitcher's box and Tom scooped it up and got it to
+first ahead of the batsman, who, counting on a two-base hit, had made a
+slow start. Lesterville resented her ill-fortune and, with two gone, the
+next batsman sent a long fly into left field that barely escaped going
+over the fence and had Way chasing around like a chicken with its head
+off while two tallies were added to Lesterville's nine. A moment later
+Tom secured his fifth strike-out of the contest and the teams changed
+sides.
+
+There was still a chance to win, declared Dick, and Jack was instructed
+to lay down a bunt along third base line. Jack followed instructions
+deftly and to the letter. The ball trickled a scant ten feet and,
+although third baseman came in for it and both catcher and pitcher did
+their best, Jack was easily safe. Young Turner, instructed to sacrifice
+Jack to second, did his best but struck out miserably for the fourth
+time. Pete got the signal for a hit-and-run play and swung at the third
+ball. He missed it, but the Lesterville catcher, who so far had been
+pegging the ball to second with deadly aim, threw low and before the
+shortstop had secured the ball Jack was sprawled in the dust with one
+foot on the bag.
+
+Pete, with two strikes against him, was wary. Twice he spoiled good ones
+by fouling and then he was caught napping and retired to the bench with
+trailing bat. With two down the game looked to be over. But Lanny
+evidently thought otherwise, for he hit the first delivery squarely on
+the nose and Jack leaped away for third. The ball sped high toward
+center and although second baseman made a gallant attempt to get it, it
+went over his head. Jack turned third and streaked for the plate. The
+center fielder, however, had come in fast and now the ball was flying to
+the catcher. Lanny sped to second on the throw-in. Ten feet away from
+the home plate Jack hurled himself feet-foremost through a cloud of
+dust, rolled over the base and out of the way just as the ball settled
+into the catcher's mitt. The umpire spread his hands wide to signify
+that the runner was safe, but the catcher turned fiercely on him.
+
+"He never touched it!" he bawled. "Look at where he went!" He indicated
+a mark far back of the plate.
+
+"Who didn't touch it?" demanded Jack, scandalized and indignant. "I
+rolled over it!"
+
+Players ran up excitedly. The umpire hesitated, glanced from the
+belligerent catcher to the astounded Jack, shook his head and said:
+"He's out!"
+
+"_What!_" shrieked Jack.
+
+"Sure you're out," said the pitcher with a grin. "You didn't go anywhere
+near the plate. Beat it, kid!"
+
+Gordon grabbed Jack's arm and hustled him toward the bench, pursued by
+the laughter of the Lesterville players and the gibes of the spectators,
+crowding off the stand. At second Lanny got to his feet and tramped
+morosely in to the bench.
+
+"I was all over the plate!" Jack was declaring fiercely. "He's a
+robber!"
+
+"Of course you were," agreed Gordon soothingly. "He knows it, but he's
+scared of the bunch. Never mind, it's all in the day's work, Jack."
+
+"I tell you I was safe!" sputtered Jack. "What do you want to quit for?
+Why don't you make them play it out?"
+
+"No good, Jack. Shut up and change your things. We've got to hustle for
+the train."
+
+Just then the Lesterville captain walked up to Gordon. "Say," he said,
+"we'll play you fellows again some time if you like. You put up a good
+game, all right, Merrick."
+
+"Thanks, I dare say we can get together again," replied Gordon not
+overly enthusiastic. "I'll let you know."
+
+"Next time we'll have a decent umpire," cried Jack, pausing on his way
+to the dressing shed. "That man's a thief!"
+
+"Aw, don't be a baby," growled the opposing captain. "You were out all
+right enough. I saw the play, didn't I?"
+
+"I don't care whether you did or not. I was perfectly safe. I crossed
+the plate before the ball ever got to him!"
+
+"What if you did, kid? You didn't touch it. That ump is all right. The
+trouble is you can't take a beating. Chase yourself."
+
+Jack was fighting mad then and pushed his way back, but Gordon and some
+of the others seized him, while the stragglers from the audience
+clustered around, eager for trouble.
+
+"Jack, you get out of here," directed Dick sternly.
+
+"Like fun I will! That big chump can't tell me----"
+
+"Just one more word and you'll be suspended!" Dick spoke very quietly.
+Jack stared open-mouthed, his gaze traveling from the derisive face of
+the Lesterville captain to the stern countenance of the Clearfield
+manager. Gordon and Lanny still held him firmly. He swallowed hard,
+rewarded Dick with a baleful glare and said:
+
+"Go ahead and suspend! You're a peach of a manager, anyhow, to stand
+around and let those robbers swipe the game on us! You----"
+
+But Gordon and Lanny hustled him promptly through the throng at that,
+the crowd dissolved and the field emptied. In spite of Jack's protest
+the game was recorded: Lesterville, 11; Clearfield, 7.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JACK IS SUSPENDED
+
+
+They talked it over on the way back in the train and the consensus of
+Clearfield opinion was that, taking into consideration the indisputable
+fact that the umpire had been against them all through the game, the
+final score was nothing to be ashamed of. Only Jack failed to subscribe
+with any enthusiasm to that verdict. Jack frankly sulked.
+
+Dick called Gordon over to his seat after the discussion had waned and
+the fellows had quieted down. "Who," he asked, moving his crutches to
+make room for Gordon, "can we get to take Jack's place?"
+
+"To take Jack's place?" exclaimed Gordon. "Why, what's the matter with
+Jack?"
+
+"I thought you understood that he was suspended," replied Dick calmly.
+"I certainly gave him a fair warning."
+
+"But--but--" blurted Gordon in bewilderment, "you can't do that!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Gordon stared. Finally, "Are you in earnest?" he asked.
+
+"Of course. I'm manager of this team. And while I'm manager the fellows
+have got to behave. Jack was all wrong. He had no business talking like
+that. In the first place, it wasn't up to him to protest the decision.
+In the next place he might have got us into a nasty row with those
+toughs over there. They were dying for a scrap all along. If they had
+started anything we'd have got pretty well mussed up, Gordie."
+
+Gordon nodded. "I know," he said gloomily, "but--Jack was excited, Dick.
+And it _was_ a robbery. You can't blame him for getting a bit hot about
+it."
+
+"I don't. I blame him for showing it, or, at least, proclaiming it. If
+I'm manager, I'm going to manage. If I can't manage, I'm not manager.
+Which is it?"
+
+"Why, you're manager, of course, Dick. But--Jack won't like being
+suspended. In fact, he will probably get mad and quit altogether."
+
+"I don't think so," replied Dick. "But that's his look-out. He's
+suspended for a week--if I'm manager."
+
+"All right," muttered Gordon. "Of course, you realize that leaves us in
+a hole next Saturday, Dick. Jack's one of our best players, and I don't
+know where we'll find anyone to take his place."
+
+"Neither do I yet. But we've got a whole week to find someone. He'd be
+suspended, though, if he was the last player on the team."
+
+"Are you going to tell him?" asked Gordon uneasily. Dick smiled.
+
+"Evidently you don't care to?"
+
+"I surely don't."
+
+"Yes, I'll tell him. He ought to know it, though, because I usually mean
+what I say. You needn't mention it to anyone to-day. I'll have a talk
+with him to-morrow, maybe."
+
+"He'll quit flat-footed," mourned Gordon. Dick smiled again.
+
+"I don't believe so. I think I know Jack a little better than you do,
+Gordie."
+
+The next afternoon, an hour or so after dinner, Dick called Gordon on
+the telephone. "Can you come around here for a few minutes?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I was just starting, Dick. Anything up?"
+
+"Not much. I wanted to talk to you about a chap for Jack's place."
+
+"Oh! You--you haven't changed your mind about that, then?"
+
+"No." Dick's voice sounded amused.
+
+"Well----" Gordon frowned at the telephone instrument. "I'll be over
+right away, Dick."
+
+Dick was on the porch, in spite of the fact that it was raining briskly,
+and his sister, Grace, was with him. Grace was thirteen and a very
+pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes. She was enveloped in a long apron
+and had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and explained to Gordon that
+she was in the middle of washing up the dinner dishes.
+
+"Dick called me out to read me a perfectly ridiculous story in the
+paper," she laughed. "Read to Gordon, Dick, and see if he thinks it
+funny."
+
+Dick laughed. "Grace was born without a sense of humor, Gordie, and I
+find I can't educate her."
+
+"Sense of humor!" scoffed Grace. "That story isn't the least bit funny.
+I'll leave it to Gordon." She jumped up. "I must finish those dishes."
+
+"What's the story?" asked Gordon, seating himself well away from the
+dripping vines.
+
+"The story? Oh, never mind that! Jack's just been here."
+
+"He has? Well--what--how did he take it?" asked Gordon anxiously.
+
+Dick gravely regarded the point of one shoe. "Well, I'll tell you the
+last thing he said as he went off, Gordie. He said: 'Tell Gordon I know
+a fellow named Shores who works in the plating factory. He's a pretty
+good ball player. If you like, I'll talk to him and see if he will play
+for us Saturday.'"
+
+Gordon viewed his friend with admiration, and shook his head helplessly.
+"I don't see how you manage folks the way you do, Dick," he said.
+
+"That comes of being manager," laughed Dick.
+
+"If I'd told Jack he was suspended for a week he'd have sassed me and
+gone off in a huff and never played again!"
+
+"Oh, no, he wouldn't! Jack's a good, sensible chap. He's a little bit
+stuck on himself, but that doesn't matter, and he will get over it some
+time. I just told him that he was wrong, and made him see it. And I
+convinced him without much trouble that it was for the good of the team
+that he should sit on the bench for a week. Of course, he was a bit
+huffed at first, but he got over that. In fact, Gordie, I think he's
+rather proud of being suspended. It sounds sort of professional and
+big-leaguish!"
+
+"You could convince a fellow it was a real pleasure to have his head cut
+off!" said Gordon. "I wish I had your--your diplomacy."
+
+"That's a big word for it, Gordie. Last night's meeting was rather a
+fizzle, wasn't it?"
+
+Gordon nodded gloomily. "I don't see how we're going to get a field in
+time for football practice if we don't do more than we did last night."
+
+"Too much talk," agreed Dick. "Somebody ought to just go ahead and find
+a field and then make a report on it. As for paying a hundred and
+twenty-five dollars a year rent for one, why, that's poppycock. We
+couldn't afford it, especially as we'll have to build a running track
+before next Spring."
+
+"Way suggested that we could transfer next Spring's meet to Springdale.
+That would give us nearly two years to fix up a track."
+
+"Not a bad idea. Most of the fellows seemed to fancy that place across
+the river beyond the carpet mills. It would be fairly near home, but
+it's a mean part of town."
+
+"Punk! If we have to find a new place--and I suppose we must--I'm for
+going out toward the Point. Fellows seem to think it's too far out
+there, but you can jump on the trolley and get there in no time. They'd
+put a stop opposite the field for us if we asked."
+
+"Yes, I should think Mr. Brent would do that much for us since he's
+taking our field away," agreed Dick. "By the way, seen Morris yet?"
+
+"No; I thought I'd go over this afternoon and see how he is. Maybe he's
+receiving callers by this time. Dick, do you know anything about running
+an automobile?"
+
+Dick stared. Then he laughed. "Well, hardly, Gordie! How should I?"
+
+"Well, of course you've never run one, but you know such a raft of stuff
+fellows usually don't know that----"
+
+"You thought I'd made a study of autos? No, I'm afraid I can't advise
+you much, Gordie. Thinking of buying one?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly."
+
+"Going to rent it, then?"
+
+"No, you idiot. I--I only wondered. I dare say you could drive an
+automobile finely, though. Your arms are all right and you told me once
+that you thought of getting one of those velocipede chairs that you work
+with your feet."
+
+"I see what you're driving at. Old Man Brent has commissioned you to
+sell that car of Morris'. Is that it?"
+
+Gordon looked startled, but shook his head. "No, he hasn't. I dare say,
+though, anyone could buy it pretty cheap," he remarked carelessly.
+
+"I'm afraid I couldn't afford it, Gordie," Dick laughed. "You'll have to
+find another buyer."
+
+"I know. I was just wondering if you _could_ run an auto if you had
+one."
+
+"Why, I suppose so. I've got plenty of strength in my legs when I'm
+sitting down, you know, and so far my arms are still working. But I
+don't believe I'll ever have a chance to try, Gordie. At least, not
+unless you get an auto and let me run it for you. How would I do as a
+chauffeur?"
+
+"I'll bet you could run an auto to the King's taste, Dick! You do most
+everything better than the rest of us."
+
+"You mean I think I could! Well, I'm not stuck-up about my automobile
+driving, Gordie. That's one thing I'm not conceited about. Going now?"
+
+"Yes, I guess I'd better run over to Morris'. I told his sister I'd look
+in pretty soon. When he can see folks, Dick, will you go over with me
+some time?"
+
+"Of course. Glad to. Let me know when you want to go."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. I thought--you seemed sort of down on Mr. Brent and maybe
+you wouldn't want to go to his house."
+
+"Oh, I'm not as down on him as all that," laughed Dick. "And, anyhow,
+his house never did anything to me." He paused and added soberly: "For
+that matter, Gordie, I don't want you to think that I am really sore
+against Mr. Brent. Sometimes I get sort of peeved about that affair of
+dad's, but maybe, after all, it was more his fault than Mr. Brent's.
+Anyway, I've never accused Jonathan Brent of being dishonest. I don't
+think he is. Give my regards to Morris if you see him, and tell him I'll
+come over and call some day if he doesn't mind. See you to-morrow
+afternoon, Gordie. We've got to practice hard this week. And I'll tell
+Jack to look up his friend in the plating works."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A VISIT TO THE INVALID
+
+
+Gordon found Morris not only able but eager to see him. Louise conducted
+him upstairs to a big square bedroom in the middle of which, between two
+bay windows, Morris' bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table by
+the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses, and some magazines,
+books, and glasses. A rocking-chair near the table with a magazine
+spread open in it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been
+reading to the invalid.
+
+Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest little pillow under
+his head. Gordon was shocked to see how pale and drawn he looked as he
+waved a hand at the visitor's entrance and called quite cheerfully
+across the room: "Hello, Gordon! Gee, but I'm glad to see you!"
+
+Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked Morris how he felt.
+
+"Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg's done up in a ton of plaster, I guess,
+and it hurts a good deal. But the doctor's tickled to death with it, and
+so I suppose I've got to be satisfied too. How are you? I thought you
+were never coming to see a fellow."
+
+"I've been wanting to come ever since--it happened," answered Gordon;
+"but at first they said I mustn't see you, and then, yesterday, there
+was the game at Lesterville----"
+
+"It must have been a peach of a game, even if you fellows did get
+beaten." Morris paused abruptly and lowered his eyes. "Say, Gordon, I
+guess you know I'm--I'm awfully grateful----"
+
+"Now, look here," interrupted Gordon sternly, "don't you start that too!
+I've had a lot of it from your mother and Louise and Mr. Brent, and if
+you begin I'll beat it out of here!"
+
+"All right," laughed Morris, "only--well, thanks, Gordon!" A twinge of
+pain brought a momentary scowl to his face. "I was mighty glad you
+didn't get banged up too. It was a wonder you didn't."
+
+"Oh, I'm like a cat; I light on my feet. What happened, anyhow?"
+
+"I don't know--quite. The first thing I knew the wheel spun around
+almost out of my hands and we were smashing against that fence. I
+suppose there was something in the road I didn't see. I made a grab for
+the emergency brake and tried to set it. Then I got a leg over the side
+of the car and--and that's all I remember. How badly is the car smashed,
+Gordon?"
+
+"The right front wheel has most of the spokes out of it, and the axle is
+bent on that side. And there are some dents in the running board and
+radiator and one lamp's done for. I don't believe, though, it will cost
+you much to get it fixed up again almost as good as new. I suppose
+you'll have to get rid of it, though, won't you?"
+
+Morris grinned. "Rather! And I'll have to pay for it, too!"
+
+"Your father says----"
+
+"I know; but Stacey has my note for the rest of the money, and I don't
+propose to be a squealer, Gordon. I'll get the money somehow. If dad
+won't give it to me, maybe my mother will. I'll get it somewhere. I'm
+not going to have Stacey telling it around that I don't keep my word or
+pay my debts. I wish I'd let the blamed thing alone; but I didn't, and
+so there's no use talking about that now."
+
+"What--what are you going to do with it?" asked Gordon.
+
+"Get Stacey to sell it for me, I guess. I haven't talked to dad about it
+yet. He only got home from New York yesterday. I suppose he will be mad
+when I tell him I want to pay the rest of the money."
+
+"I ought to see him, too," said Gordon uneasily, "and tell him what Mr.
+Stacey said. Is--is he at home to-day?"
+
+"Yes, but you'd better wait a while. He always takes a nap Sunday
+afternoons. I guess I'll let you tell him about Stacey before I tackle
+him."
+
+"How much would you sell the car for?" asked Gordon presently.
+
+"Anything I could get, I guess. Of course, it's never been used but a
+week; the speedometer shows only two hundred and eighty miles, I think;
+but I suppose it's just as much second-hand as if it had been run a
+whole year. I should think Stacey might get three hundred for it,
+though."
+
+Gordon looked disappointed. "Oh!" he murmured. "Well, I suppose it is
+worth all of that. Only, I was thinking----"
+
+"What?" asked Morris.
+
+"It--it sounds sort of cheeky," replied Gordon, after a moment's
+hesitation, "and you might not think much of the idea, but what I--what
+we were considering is this, Morris." He drew the chair closer to the
+bed, with a glance at the half-open door, and lowered his voice.
+
+An hour or so later Gordon left Brentwood well satisfied. Mr. Brent had
+only smiled at Mr. Stacey's ultimatum, thanked Gordon for the trouble he
+had taken, and approved of the rescue and temporary disposal of the
+automobile. "We'll let it stay where it is for the present," he said,
+"and I'll have a talk with Morris about it some day. If Stacey doesn't
+want to take it back, I guess we can get the junkman to haul it away."
+
+"I think Morris has a--a scheme, sir, that would be pretty fine,"
+returned Gordon. "That is, if--if you were willing."
+
+"A scheme? What sort of a scheme, Merrick?"
+
+"I'd rather he told you about it, sir."
+
+"Humph! I don't think much of Morris' schemes as a rule," replied Mr.
+Brent grimly. "However, I'll hear what he has to say."
+
+On Tuesday placards in the shop windows made the following announcement:
+
+                               BASEBALL!
+                     Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
+                           HIGH SCHOOL FIELD,
+                          Saturday at 3 P. M.
+                          Admission: 25 Cents.
+
+Also on that morning the Clearfield _Reporter_ obligingly called the
+public's attention to the game and predicted a close and exciting
+contest. The notice in the newspaper cost the club nothing, but the
+printed announcements took just a dollar and sixty-five cents from the
+exchequer, and caused Fudge, whose portion of the expense amounted to
+eighteen and one-third cents, a deal of gloom.
+
+"Nobody's going to pay real money to see a lot of kids play ball," said
+Fudge. "So what's the good of spending all that on notices? Gee, we
+could have bought a new ball with that money!"
+
+One or two others thought as Fudge did, but most of the team were
+optimistic, and Tim Turner was created ticket seller and gateman, and
+was to receive fifty cents for his services. Fudge declared that if Tim
+sold enough admissions to pay himself his wages he'd be "m-m-m-mighty
+lucky!" But as events proved Fudge was unnecessarily pessimistic.
+
+Meanwhile, on Monday, Jack Tappen had fulfilled his agreement to find a
+substitute, and Danny Shores was duly "signed up" for Saturday's game
+with the Point. Danny, who proved to be a long and lanky youth of
+sixteen or seventeen years, showed up for practice on Wednesday and made
+a good impression in right field and at the bat. Unfortunately,
+Wednesday was the only day he could get off, and, as Jack assured Dick,
+it took a lot of wire-pulling to secure that concession from Danny's
+boss at the plating works. However, Danny played ball more or less every
+lunch-hour behind the factory, and so was by no means out of practice.
+Jack's demeanor was amusing that week. He tried to look chastened and
+sad, but it was easy to see that he took it as a personal compliment,
+that suspension, and was vastly proud of it. Jack appeared to reason
+that if he hadn't been an extraordinarily valuable member of the team
+Dick would not have taken the trouble to discipline him! Jack was as
+busy as a hive of bees, and was so generous with advice that Dick and
+Gordon found him something of a nuisance.
+
+"I wish he was playing ball instead of sitting on the bench," confided
+Gordon, in comic despair. "Next time, Dick, throw him in the river, but
+don't suspend him. He's as pleased as Punch with himself!"
+
+Of course, the others tried their best to have their fun with Jack, but
+the attempt was not very successful. Jack seemed to consider that a
+signal honor had been done him, and, while he professed to be chagrined
+and ashamed of his position, he was secretly well contented and was
+enjoying it all greatly. As Dick said, one could have stood that well
+enough if Jack hadn't tried to run the team!
+
+But Jack Tappen was not the only cross that Dick had to bear just then.
+As a tutor Dick was having his troubles, too. Harold Townsend had at
+last, to use Caspar Billings' expression, "laid down in the shafts." Not
+only that, but he was "kicking over the traces" as well. Dick was pretty
+nearly at his wits' end. The pupil's first slight awe of his teacher had
+soon worn off, and now he was frankly mutinous. He no longer made
+pretense of studying the lessons Dick laid out for him, only grinned
+exasperatingly when taken to task, and, in short, openly defied
+authority. Dick worried for two reasons: In the first place, he disliked
+to be beaten. In the second place, he felt that he had no right to take
+money from Harold's mother when he was not earning it. And he wanted the
+money and needed it. Harold apparently realized that any appeal to his
+mother by Dick would be useless. And Dick was pretty certain of as much
+himself. Nevertheless, on Thursday of that week he decided that the time
+had come for an understanding. Loring, Harold's older brother, had
+threatened all sorts of dire punishment if that youth didn't behave, but
+the threats had not impressed Harold much. Perhaps he knew that Loring
+wouldn't carry them out. On Thursday the lesson had been the merest
+farce, and Harold's behavior had for once almost caused Dick to lose
+command of a usually well-governed temper. At last:
+
+"I shall have to talk to your mother, Harold," he said. "This kind of
+thing can't go on. You're wasting your time and mine----"
+
+"Aw, you get paid, don't you?" asked Harold, with a scowl.
+
+"I get paid for teaching, not for loafing," responded Dick sharply. "I
+shall want to see you when I come back. So don't go off, please."
+
+"I shall if I want to. You don't own me, Lovering. Besides, study time's
+up, anyway."
+
+Dick, disdaining to answer, set off to find Mrs. Townsend. The
+conference took place on a corner of the hotel veranda. Mrs. Townsend
+was a sweet-voiced, pretty woman, with a tired air. At first she seemed
+to resent Dick's charge against her boy. Then she grew pathetic, and
+bewailed the fact of her husband's death.
+
+"If he had lived," she sighed, "Harold would have been a different boy.
+I've never been able to do anything with him. He needs a stronger hand,
+I fear. Perhaps--that is, possibly--er--it would have been better to
+have found someone--someone a little older to take him in hand. Of
+course, I don't mean to suggest that you haven't done excellently, Mr.
+Lovering, for I'm quite sure you have; but, of course, as you are so
+little older than Harold, he may feel--er--you see what I mean, don't
+you?"
+
+"Yes'm, but I don't think that's the trouble. Harold doesn't want to
+study, doesn't seem to see the necessity of learning and won't. If I had
+full authority over him----"
+
+"Oh, but you have! I thought that was understood."
+
+"Oh, for two hours, perhaps, Mrs. Townsend; but what I mean is that if
+I--well, if you'd just back me up, I'm sure I could accomplish
+something."
+
+"Please explain. I don't think I understand."
+
+"Why, it's like this," replied Dick desperately: "He knows now that if
+he doesn't want to learn his lessons he doesn't have to. So he doesn't
+do any work. If--if you'd make him understand that he _does_ have to,
+Mrs. Townsend, that if he doesn't he will be--punished----"
+
+"Oh, but I've never punished Harold!" she protested. "I don't believe in
+punishment; that is, other than verbal. A high-spirited boy such as he
+is--er----"
+
+"Yes'm, I know, but you want him to go to Rifle Point, and he will never
+get there if he doesn't take some interest in his lessons and do some
+work. See here, please." Dick had provided himself with a Rifle Point
+School catalogue, and now he went over for Mrs. Townsend's benefit the
+list of studies required for entrance. Mrs. Townsend listened with a
+puzzled, tired frown on her pretty forehead.
+
+"And you think he isn't far enough advanced, Mr. Lovering, to enter this
+Fall?"
+
+"He isn't advanced at all!" blurted Dick. "What he has learned he has
+forgotten. He--he's two years behind those requirements, Mrs. Townsend."
+
+"Dear me! And I had hoped----" She sighed tremulously. "What do you
+advise?"
+
+"I advise you to make Harold understand that he's got to do what I tell
+him to, and that if he doesn't he will be punished."
+
+"But I never could punish him!"
+
+"No'm, I'm sure of that," agreed Dick. "You let me do it."
+
+"You?" she faltered. "Could you--that is----"
+
+"I don't mean whip him, Mrs. Townsend, or anything like that. I'll find
+a way that will answer quite as well."
+
+"Could you really? But how?"
+
+"I don't know just yet," Dick owned. "But I'll find a way. Really, Mrs.
+Townsend, you'll have to do something of that sort. Harold's just
+wasting his time and mine. And I can't take your money when I'm not
+earning it."
+
+"Oh, but I'm sure you are! Even if--if Harold doesn't get on very fast,
+it is a great relief to me to know that for two hours a day at least he
+is in good care and not--not running around with those horrid bell-boys.
+I'm sure that's worth every penny of the money!"
+
+"Not to me, ma'am. I mean I wouldn't be satisfied to go on with things
+as they are now. I wish you'd try my way, Mrs. Townsend. All I'd want
+you to do would be just to tell Harold that he is to do absolutely as I
+tell him to, and that there is no use in his appealing to you."
+
+"We--ell, if you're quite certain it won't break his spirit or--or
+anything like that," agreed Mrs. Townsend doubtfully. "I do want him to
+get on, Mr. Lovering. If only he had half the studiousness that Loring
+has!"
+
+"He can study very well when he wants to," replied Dick dryly. "And I'm
+pretty sure I can make him want to if you will just stand back of me,
+Mrs. Townsend."
+
+"I will, really and truly," she said. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lovering.
+I--I'll speak to Harold this evening, and----"
+
+"Couldn't you speak to him now just as well, please?"
+
+"Now? Why, I suppose so. If you wish. Perhaps I'd better, and get it
+over with." Mrs. Townsend sighed deeply. "Will you send him to me, Mr.
+Lovering?"
+
+"Yes'm, if I can find him," answered Dick. "I'm afraid, though, he's
+gone off somewhere. I'll look him up, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you very much
+for--for helping me."
+
+Harold was not in his room where Dick had left him, and inquiry around
+the corridor of the hotel at first failed to elicit any information.
+Ultimately, however, Dick found a boy who had seen Harold walking down
+the beach about a half hour before and Dick set off in the indicated
+direction toward the distant point of rocks that jutted out into the
+sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE ROCKS
+
+
+It was hard going for Dick, for his crutches sank into the sand nearly
+to the depth of their rubber tips, but he persevered, and after some ten
+minutes of "crutching" arrived at the end of the beach where the point
+of rock from which the place received its name advanced from the grassy
+bluff and waded far into the breakers. Harold was not in sight when Dick
+reached the bottom of the ledge; but a few moments later when by careful
+climbing Dick had reached the seaward end of the rock, he came into
+view. The receding tide had left a long and narrow pool in a cleft of
+the ledge, a pool whose sides were festooned with delicate seaweed and
+set with purple mussels and green and brown snails and in whose bottom
+pink starfish crawled. Harold, perched at the edge of the pool, was
+looking fascinatingly into the clear green depths and didn't hear the
+soft tap of Dick's crutches until the older boy was almost beside him.
+Then he turned startledly, narrowly escaping a bath in the pool, and
+scowled at the intruder.
+
+"Had to hunt for me, anyway, didn't you?" he asked sneeringly.
+
+Dick paid the question no heed. Instead, he moved to the edge of the
+pool and peered interestedly into it. He didn't have to feign interest,
+he was interested. It seemed a long time to Dick since he had crouched,
+as Harold was crouched now, and gazed fascinatingly at the wonders of a
+rock pool. Nor had he done it very frequently, for climbing over the
+ledges is hard and risky work for a boy without two good legs. Harold
+continued to frown at a wavering starfish in the depths, but presently,
+as Dick did not speak, he shot a curious glance at him.
+
+"Gee," he said to himself, "you'd think he'd never seen starfish and
+things before!"
+
+Dick took off his hat and wiped his moist forehead. Then he lowered
+himself cautiously to a seat on the rock. "Regular natural aquarium,
+isn't it?" he asked pleasantly. Harold's reply was an unintelligible
+growl. "Lots of queer things in there," went on Dick musingly.
+
+"Sure; I just saw a whale," replied Harold sarcastically.
+
+"Did you? Your eyes must be pretty good," returned Dick, with a smile.
+"I dare say, though, I see something you don't."
+
+Harold viewed him suspiciously. Finally: "What?" he asked.
+
+"A sea-anemone."
+
+"A sea-what?"
+
+"Sea-anemone." Dick laughed. "I sea-anemone; what do you see?"
+
+"That's a punk joke!" scoffed Harold.
+
+"I'm not joking. I'll point him out to you. Lean over this way. See that
+purplish-brown thing on the side near the bottom? Looks like a flower,
+sort of. See?"
+
+"Sure! Is that it? It isn't a flower, though; it moves, don't it?"
+Harold was interested in spite of himself.
+
+"Yes, it moves, and it isn't a flower. It's a polyp. It's name is
+Metridium something or other; I forget the rest of it."
+
+"What's a polyp? An animal?"
+
+"Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge is."
+
+"Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!" derided the other.
+
+"Not exactly. Those things that move are little tentacles with which it
+feeds itself," said Dick, pointing again at the anemone.
+
+"What's it eat?" asked Harold curiously.
+
+"All sorts of animal matter that floats around in the water and that is
+so small we can't see it."
+
+Harold observed him suspiciously. "I don't believe it's alive at all,"
+he said presently. "It's just a sort of seaweed, and it moves because
+the water moves."
+
+"Think so?" asked Dick. "Then put your hand down there toward it and see
+what happens."
+
+"It won't--bite, will it?" asked Harold doubtfully.
+
+"No, but it will show you whether it's alive or not. You needn't touch
+it," he added, noting the other's hesitancy. "Just put your hand near it
+or disturb the water."
+
+Harold pulled his sleeve up and cautiously thrust an arm into the pool.
+"Gee!" he exclaimed. "It shut its mouth!"
+
+Dick laughed. "Doesn't look much like it did, does it?"
+
+"No; it's an ugly little thing now," responded the other. "Say, that's
+funny, isn't it? Guess it's alive, all right."
+
+"Yes; and it knows three things pretty well: It knows how to attach
+itself to the rocks, how to get food, and how to shut up shop when
+trouble brews."
+
+"What would it do if you took it out?"
+
+"Die. Besides, it's stuck on there so hard you'd have to pull it to
+pieces to get it off. I tried it once when I was a kid, and had to give
+it up."
+
+"I'd like to find a sea-urchin," said Harold. "I've got a lot of
+starfish and a horse-shoe crab and some razor-clam shells and two shark
+eggs. I guess I'll get that big starfish down there, too."
+
+"What's the use?" asked Dick. "It's just like those you've got. Let the
+old chap live and enjoy himself."
+
+"I'll get it if I want to," replied Harold. "Say, what did you follow me
+out here for, anyway?"
+
+"Because I told your mother I'd find you and send you to her. She's got
+something to say to you."
+
+"Sure! I suppose you went and told her a lot of lies about me."
+
+"You don't suppose anything of the sort," responded Dick quietly.
+
+"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of her."
+
+"Of course not, but you want to do what she wishes, don't you?"
+
+"That's my business," replied the other ungraciously. "I do as I
+please."
+
+"Well, you're a lucky chap, then," said Dick pleasantly. "By the way,
+are you going to see the ball game Saturday?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so. That is"--with elaborate concern--"unless you don't
+want me to."
+
+"I was going to say that if you'll ask for me at the gate I'll pass you
+in, Harold."
+
+"Why, are they going to charge?"
+
+"Yes; twenty-five cents."
+
+"Gee, they've got a crust! Who'd pay twenty-five cents to see a lot of
+wooden-heads play ball?"
+
+"Well, we're hoping a lot will. Anyway, you won't have to. Just ask for
+me at the gate. I guess it will be a pretty good game. Do you like
+baseball?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Do you play?"
+
+"Sure! What do you think I am--a wooden Indian?"
+
+"That's good. They have a pretty good team at Rifle Point. Maybe you'll
+make it some day."
+
+"There isn't any maybe about it. I'm going to."
+
+"I hope so. Well, I must be getting back. You coming along? It must be
+very nearly lunch time."
+
+"No, I'm not," growled Harold. "I'll come when I'm ready."
+
+"All right. By the way, we won't have any lessons to-morrow. Nothing
+doing until Monday. Meanwhile you see if you can't get the better of
+that algebra, like a good fellow. So-long!"
+
+"Long!" muttered Harold.
+
+Dick pulled himself up and fixed his crutches and began the laborious
+task of climbing back up the rock and across to the beach. Fortunately
+his rubber tips held well, and he was soon at the top of the ledge. But
+there misfortune overtook him. Just what happened he couldn't have told,
+but the result he was very certain about. For one crutch flew out from
+under him, he spun half around on the other and fell backward, his head
+coming into violent contact with the granite ledge. For an instant he
+was too dazed to move. His head rang and buzzed like a bee-hive. In
+falling he must have cried out involuntarily, for almost before he had
+gathered his faculties together and made a move to get up he heard
+footsteps pattering on the rocks, and then the anxious voice of Harold
+Townsend:
+
+"Are you hurt, Lovering? What happened?"
+
+Harold ran to him, and bent over him with very genuine concern.
+
+"I--I'm all right, thanks," replied Dick, a trifle vaguely. "I fell.
+That rock is some hard, Harold!" He rubbed his head ruefully and
+grimaced as his hand came in contact with the swelling bruise. "Just
+give me a hand, will you? And kick that crutch this way, please."
+
+"Here's your crutch," said Harold, "but just you wait where you are a
+minute." He sped away down the slope of the rock, and Dick, with his
+head throbbing, for once could not but feel a qualm of envy. In a moment
+the younger boy was back. He had dipped his handkerchief in the water,
+and now he offered it a trifle shyly to Dick. "Put it on your head," he
+said gruffly. "It'll make it feel better."
+
+"Thanks, Harold." Dick applied the wet compress to the bump. "It was
+stupid of me to keel over like that," he said. "I don't know when I've
+fallen down before."
+
+"I should think you'd have lots of falls," replied Harold. "I think you
+get around mighty well, Lovering. How does it feel now?"
+
+"Better, thanks. Just sort of give me a boost, will you?"
+
+Harold assisting, Dick got to his feet, or, rather, his crutches, and,
+with the younger boy watching anxiously, went on down the ledge to the
+beach.
+
+"You needn't come unless you're ready to," said Dick. "I'll be all right
+now, Harold."
+
+"I guess I'll go, too," replied Harold carelessly. "It's most lunch
+time."
+
+They walked along in silence for a way, and then Dick asked: "Do you
+know who Caspar Billings has got to take Morris Brent's place on
+Saturday?"
+
+"Fellow named Jensen. Do you know him?"
+
+"No, I think not. Pretty good, is he?"
+
+"I guess so. Loring says he is. Say, Mason's going to pitch for us. Did
+you know that?"
+
+"Mason? Oh, he is the fellow who was to have played in the last game and
+didn't get here. Is he a wonder, Harold?"
+
+"Is he!" Harold chuckled. "You just wait and see. You fellows won't be
+able to touch him!"
+
+"As good as that, eh? By the way, who scores for your team?"
+
+"I don't know." Harold shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody, I guess. Why?"
+
+"I should think you'd like to do it."
+
+Harold considered. "I guess," he answered finally, "I don't know how
+well enough."
+
+"I can show you. You bring a book Saturday and sit by me, and I'll make
+a professional scorer of you in no time."
+
+"Too much trouble," replied the other indifferently.
+
+"It isn't trouble at all, Harold; it's fun. Better try it some time.
+It's a good thing to know."
+
+Presently Harold asked: "Why aren't you coming to-morrow?"
+
+"Because we haven't been getting on very well, Harold. I thought it
+might be a good idea for us to stop for a couple of days and think it
+over; see whether we want to go on with it or not, you know. If we
+decide that we do, we'll start all over again Monday and do the thing
+right."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Harold. "What did you tell my mother?"
+
+"Oh, just that I wasn't willing to go on and take her money without
+accomplishing something," replied Dick cheerfully. "I told her you could
+study as well as your brother if you wanted to----"
+
+"She's always beefing about Loring!" grumbled the boy.
+
+"And that if you didn't want to there wasn't much use in my coming.
+Well, I'll cut through here for the car. I'll see you Monday, Harold."
+
+"What about Saturday?" asked the other. "You said----"
+
+"Of course! Look me up, and bring your score-book."
+
+"Haven't any."
+
+"You can get one at Wadsworth's, on Common Street. Or I'll buy one for
+you, if you like."
+
+"You needn't. It's too much like work. So-long!"
+
+Dick returned to Clearfield more encouraged. If only Mrs. Townsend would
+do as she had agreed to, he believed that he could manage Harold and
+earn the money that was being paid him. He had about given up hope of
+finding more pupils, and so could ill afford to lose Harold. He
+certainly didn't want to, he reflected, but he would in an instant
+rather than make no better progress than he had been making.
+
+At practice that afternoon, Gordon told him that Morris had asked to see
+him, and Dick agreed to call at the Brents' for a few minutes before
+supper. Morris was pathetically glad to see the two boys and very loath
+to have them go again. Mrs. Brent looked in for a short time and Louise
+met them on their way out and thanked them for coming. She looked rather
+tired, and Gordon spoke of it.
+
+"It's been so hot to-day," she explained, "and I've been indoors a good
+deal since Morris was hurt. He can't read to himself yet, and so I have
+to do it for him. Of course, I'm very glad to, but it is hard work in a
+way. I wonder if either of you have any books he'd like. I've read about
+everything I can find."
+
+"I think I have," responded Dick. "I'll bring two or three over. I guess
+what Morris wants is a rattling good adventure story."
+
+"Yes; he's crazy to hear stories about ships and pirates and hidden
+treasure, you know. About the only other thing he cares about is the
+baseball news. I read that to him every morning, and I'm getting to be
+quite--quite learned."
+
+"I suppose," said Dick, "the doctor won't let you move him out to the
+Point yet."
+
+"He says we can go in about another two weeks. I think it will be much
+better for Morris. He's getting fearfully tired of that room up there.
+And it is hot, you know. Thank you both for coming, and do come again
+when you can. I guess it isn't much fun for you, but Morris looks
+forward to it all day."
+
+"She's a nice girl," commented Dick, as they passed through the gate.
+"Pretty, too."
+
+"She _is_ nice," agreed Gordon. "I guess when a fellow's laid up like
+that a sister's a pretty good thing to have around."
+
+"Yes," said Dick. And, after a moment, he added: "I'll find those books
+and take them around to-morrow morning."
+
+"I would," approved the other. "You're certain to find her in then."
+
+"Don't be a chump, Gordie! She's only a kid!"
+
+"She's as old as I am, except for a few months. And if you call me a kid
+I'll lick you."
+
+"If you do, I'll suspend you," replied Dick sternly.
+
+Gordon laughed. "I hope I'd get as much fun out of it as Jack is
+getting," he said. "He confided to me to-day that you were a fine
+manager. 'I tell you, Gordon,' he said, 'a manager's got to have plenty
+of discipline!' If you could only fire Jack for good and all, he'd love
+you like a brother, Dick!"
+
+"I sort of wish we were going to have him in the game Saturday," said
+Dick. "We'll miss his batting, I guess."
+
+"I wonder if this fellow Mason is as good as they seem to think him.
+Anyone know where he comes from?"
+
+"I didn't ask. He's probably better than Porter, though. I have a
+feeling that we're due to get the short end of the score day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"I wouldn't be surprised. I hope to goodness Harry can play. If he is
+out of it, we will be in a mess!"
+
+"How is Tom getting on with his shingling or painting or whatever it is
+he's doing?"
+
+"I don't know. Why?"
+
+"Well, it would be a good thing if he could come out and practice a
+little more. It's too bad we can't find another fellow to help out with
+the pitching, Gordie. If Tom got sick we'd be in a fix."
+
+"We surely would! But I don't believe Tom was ever sick in his life.
+Anyway, he was pretty fit to-day. I caught him for a few minutes, and he
+had everything there is."
+
+Dick smiled. "Tom has just three balls, Gordie: an out, a pretty good
+drop, and a fast one that's a peach. That's all he needs, though. If he
+mixes them up right he can get by. But we've got to find our batting eye
+Saturday if we're to win. How about the line-up? Think we'd better
+change it?"
+
+"Yes, I do. This fellow Shores had better follow Lanny, don't you think?
+He seems to think he can bat, but he didn't connect with much
+yesterday."
+
+"Maybe he was embarrassed," suggested Dick, with a smile.
+
+"Embarrassed!" said Gordon. "Yes, about as much embarrassed as a
+bull-pup! Maybe he will do better in a game, though. Well, so-long,
+Dick. I'll have to hustle or I'll be late for supper."
+
+"Coming around to-night?"
+
+"I don't believe so. I told Lanny I'd go over there. See you to-morrow,
+though."
+
+"Come over in the morning, will you? I'm not going out to the Point
+to-morrow."
+
+"You're not? You haven't quit, have you?"
+
+"No, not yet. I'm giving Harold a day or two to think over his sins.
+Good-night."
+
+"I say, Dick, don't forget your call."
+
+"What call?" asked Dick, from the end of the hedge.
+
+"Why, on Miss Brent!"
+
+"You'll sit on the bench if you're not careful," laughed Dick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DICK SCORES A DEFEAT
+
+
+"Well, what do you know about that!" ejaculated Fudge awedly. He and
+Lanny were approaching the athletic field at a little after two on
+Saturday. Ahead of them, as they turned the corner, was a group of some
+fifty or sixty persons, mostly boys and young men, and they were quite
+evidently waiting for the gate to open.
+
+"And it isn't half-past two yet," said Lanny. "Looks as if we were going
+to have an audience, after all, Fudge."
+
+"Bet you they don't know they have to pay a quarter," responded the
+other pessimistically.
+
+"Then they're blind, because there's a notice right beside the gate
+there."
+
+"Someone ought to find Tim and get him here," said Fudge anxiously.
+"They might change their minds and go away again!"
+
+"What time is he supposed to get here?"
+
+"I don't know. Half-past, I suppose." They passed through a smaller gate
+which led to the dressing-room and found Dick and Gordon already on
+hand. Fudge told his fears to Dick, and Dick reassured him by agreeing
+to take the gate himself until young Mr. Turner appeared. Five minutes
+later the first two or three rows of the grandstand were occupied, and
+spectators were still dribbling through the gate and depositing quarters
+in Dick's hand. Tim Turner arrived breathless soon after and relieved
+Dick. Some thirty Rutter's Point residents accompanied their team and
+still further swelled the audience, and by three o'clock Dick estimated
+that fully a hundred and sixty persons had paid admission. That was much
+better than anyone had dared hope, and Lanny, making a lightning
+calculation, confided to Gordon that there'd be thirty dollars coming to
+the club after Rutter's Point had received the twenty-five per cent.
+agreed on.
+
+"If we can do that often enough," said Lanny delightedly, "we'll have
+more than enough for----"
+
+"S-sh!" cautioned Gordon.
+
+"He's over there talking to Billings. Who is the kid with him?"
+
+"That's young Townsend, the fellow he's coaching. It's about time to
+start, isn't it? There come three more, Lanny."
+
+"Every little quarter helps," replied Lanny. "I hope Tim Turner doesn't
+abscond with the cash! Someone ought to stand over him with a bat! Oh,
+Fudge!"
+
+"What's wanted?" asked Fudge, joining them.
+
+"We wanted to tell you that if Tim runs off with the money you will have
+to make good."
+
+Fudge grinned. "He's awfully excited," he said. "He's got both pockets
+full of silver, and sounds like a treasury when he moves. He's terribly
+worried because he gave one fellow too much change. He says he knows
+him, though, and is going to get it back!"
+
+"Come on," said Gordon. "On the run, fellows. You're in right field,
+Shores. Throw out another ball, Jack, will you? Here you are, Harry!"
+
+A minute later Captain Billings faced Tom Haley, and the game began.
+
+The batting list of the visiting team had been changed in two instances,
+Jensen replacing Morris Brent in left field, and Mason pitching instead
+of Porter. Melville, or "Mel," Mason was a big youth of eighteen at
+least, with a quiet, self-constrained manner that impressed Dick and
+filled him with forebodings of defeat. Clearfield was minus the services
+of Jack Tappen, Mr. Daniel Shores making his first appearance in a
+purple uniform and holding down Jack's place in right field. The umpire
+was Mr. Cochran, physical director at the Young Men's Christian
+Association, and a great favorite among the boys.
+
+Rutter's Point failed to do anything in the first inning. Tom Haley
+allowed only one player to reach first, and he got no farther. When
+Clearfield came to the bat, with Harry Bryan up, the audience proved its
+loyalty to the home team by loud and prolonged cheering. It was very
+soon evidenced that "Mel" Mason was in a different class from Bede
+Porter as a pitcher. Who he was or where he came from neither Dick nor
+Gordon had learned; but, to use Fudge's admiring and slightly resentful
+expression, he was "some pitchist!" He had plenty of speed when he cared
+to use it, but his favorite offering was a slow ball that was probably
+patterned on the "floater" of a famous league pitcher. The Clearfield
+batters hit under it or over it with discouraging regularity, and Harry,
+Will, and Gordon went out in order in the last of the first inning, only
+Will managing to hit into fair territory. Harry and Gordon fanned.
+
+For three innings the contest was a pitchers' battle. Tom was in
+excellent shape, and, although he secured fewer strike-outs than his
+rival, managed to hold his own with the assistance of sharp fielding by
+his team-mates. If there were those among the spectators who had come to
+scoff at the kind of ball they were to see they must have been
+surprised, for both teams played a practically errorless game until the
+beginning of the fourth. And even after that, if there were frequent
+miscues, there was enough excitement and suspense to make up for them.
+
+It was Jensen, the chap who had taken Morris' place, who started things
+going in the fourth. Loring Townsend had flied out to Pete Robey, making
+the first out. With two strikes and one ball on him, Jensen reached for
+an out-shoot, found it on the end of his bat, and deposited it neatly
+behind Gordon and close to the foul-line. Chase, the Point shortstop,
+tried twice to bunt, and then hit sharply past Pete, and Jensen went to
+third. House was over-anxious and went out on strikes, and Chase got to
+second. Then Leary waited and got his base. With the bags all occupied
+and two men down, it was up to "Pink" Northrop to come to the rescue
+with a hit. The Point coachers were jumping and shouting like mad, and
+Tom might have been excused for some unsteadiness at that juncture. But
+Tom settled down, followed Lanny's signals closely, and at last, after
+working two strikes over on Northrop, caused that youth to hit weakly to
+third. Will Scott almost overthrew the base in his eagerness, but Gordon
+pulled the ball down in time and the crisis was over.
+
+Gordon went out, shortstop to first; Way lifted a high one to second
+baseman, and Pete Robey faced Mason with little expectation of faring
+any better. But Mason let up for a minute, probably arguing that with
+two gone he could afford to take things easy, and Pete shot a hot liner
+at third baseman. Caspar Billings got his hands on it, but it trickled
+past him, and Pete was safe. That doubtful error--Dick charitably scored
+it as a hit--seemed the signal for the Point to go up in the air. Mason
+whipped a quick throw to first which would have caught Pete flat-footed
+off the bag had Loring Townsend been ready for it. He wasn't, however,
+and the ball went past him to the fence, and Pete, finding his feet
+quickly, shot to second and then on to third, beating out the throw by a
+fraction of an inch and causing dissatisfaction among the Pointers over
+Mr. Cochran's decision. Lanny, impatiently waiting at the plate, swung
+twice in his eagerness to score the runner, and then waited while Mason
+teased him with wide ones. With two strikes and two balls against him,
+Lanny out-guessed the pitcher, and swung against the next one. Shortstop
+knocked it down but couldn't find it again in time to throw either to
+the plate or to first, and Clearfield, amidst the excited whooping of
+the audience, scored her first tally.
+
+Lanny went down to second on the first pitch, and, although Houghton
+threw quickly and well to that bag, Lanny beat him by a yard. Danny
+Shores, who was at bat, had swung and was one strike to the bad when
+Mason grimly turned his attention to him again. Quite a few of Danny's
+friends from the factory were on hand to see him perform, and when,
+after the third delivery, he caught the ball squarely on the nose and
+sent it streaking just over second baseman's head, they shouted
+themselves hoarse in Danny's honor. On the bench, Jack Tappen looked a
+bit glum. He had visions of being displaced by Mr. Shores. Lanny came in
+without hurrying much, and Danny reposed on first. Fudge tried to do his
+share of a hit-and-run play, but he swung far wide of the deceptive
+drop, and Danny was caught at second and the inning was over, with
+Clearfield two runs to the good.
+
+Enthusiasm reigned among the spectators on the stand, and they "rooted"
+valiantly for Clearfield throughout the rest of the game. In the fifth
+the Point got two men on bases, and was in good position to score, there
+being but one out, when Pete Robey pulled down a liner that had been
+distinctly labeled "two bases," raced to second ahead of the runner, and
+then completed the double by making a fine throw to Gordon. Mason struck
+out Tom easily in the last of the fifth, passed Harry Bryan, fanned Will
+Scott, and then, with Gordon at bat, caught Harry off first.
+
+Every play was loudly applauded, and the audience was by this time
+perched on the edges of the seats. Again in their half of the sixth
+Rutter's Point found Tom for two hits, and again sharp fielding kept her
+from crossing the plate. It was evident, though, that Tom was less of a
+puzzle now than in the earlier innings, and it seemed only a matter of
+time when the Pointers would bunch their hits and Dick would have to
+credit them with a run or two. You are not to suppose that Dick was
+doing nothing but keeping the score. He was managing that game from the
+bench as scientifically as if he had played the game all his short life.
+Every batsman got his orders from Dick before he stepped to the plate,
+and every coacher was instructed before he went to the box. And, besides
+that, Dick was teaching Harold Townsend how to score a ball game. In
+spite of his indifference two days before, Harold had appeared with a
+brand-new, black-covered score-book and a fountain pen. Dick had told
+him to put the pen in his pocket, and had supplied him with a pencil
+instead. Harold seated himself by Dick and watched and learned. He made
+more mistakes than enough, and his score when finished was a veritable
+hodge-podge of misinformation, but he seemed to get a lot of excitement
+and fun out of it, and he really did learn a good deal for a boy who had
+theretofore scored an out by placing a huge X opposite the batsman and a
+run by marking up an equally enormous I. When he began to memorize the
+symbols for struck out, base on balls, hit by pitched ball, and so on,
+he discovered that scoring was not the simple task he had thought it.
+About the sixth inning he gave up trying to keep a detailed score, and
+contented himself with disposing of the batsmen with his X's and I's.
+But by that time the excitement had grown so intense that it would have
+required a person with a much cooler head than Harold's to keep his mind
+on scoring.
+
+Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination to add
+another brace of runs to her score and place the game safely away. Dick
+realized that Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors would
+find him for some real hits, and before that occurred he wanted
+Clearfield to have a sufficient lead to place her out of danger. Gordon
+had his instructions to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was a
+clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either Pete or Lanny was
+to supply the hit to score Gordon. But plans don't always carry through.
+Dick's didn't on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason's hands,
+and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to first for the out. Way
+bunted down the first-base line, and managed to beat out the throw. Pete
+flied to center field, and Way was held on first. With two down the
+inning should have been as good as over, but Fate took a hand and
+prolonged it until the bases were filled, and Dick, watching intently
+from the bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do the
+impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose, forcing Way to second.
+Then Danny Shores had come through with a mild wallop down third-base
+line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the side, but his wits
+must have been wool-gathering, for, after gathering in the ball on the
+bound five feet away from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing
+past him hardly out of arm's length, but hurled the ball across to
+first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was too surprised to realize what was
+required of him. At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and
+Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out, had to reverse his
+decision.
+
+And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his favorite bat and manfully
+stalked to the plate, resolved to do or die. Fudge was right in the
+midst of a baseball romance at that time, and only the night before,
+writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in bed, he had
+described how his hero, despised and ridiculed by his school-mates, had
+gone to the bat in the last of the ninth and, even while the crowds
+turned disappointedly away from the field, had out-guessed the marvelous
+pitcher of the rival school and with one mighty stroke of his faithful
+bat had turned defeat into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring
+the men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his bat and faced
+Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant and undismayed. He wondered
+whether things ever happened in real life as they did in stories.
+Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly improbable
+to-day. Fudge determined to tone it down a little that evening. A
+two-bagger would answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly
+sound more plausible.
+
+Dick's voice from the bench reached him as Mason, after glancing over
+the bases, wound up. "Make him pitch to you, Fudge! It only takes one!"
+Back and forth from behind first and third the cries of Harry Bryan and
+Gordon rattled. Fudge gripped his bat tighter yet and glued his eyes to
+the upraised hands of Mel Mason. Then the ball, a particularly dirty
+one, streaked toward him; Fudge's heart beat loudly and he stepped
+nimbly out of the way, only to hear the fell verdict: "Strike!"
+
+Fudge looked reproachfully at Mr. Cochran, sighed, and again faced the
+pitcher. That ball had come well across the inner corner of the plate,
+and Fudge determined that Mason shouldn't fool him a second time with
+that particular kind of a delivery. So when the next ball shot forward
+apparently coming the same way Fudge held his ground scornfully and
+prepared to swing his bat. But the next instant he had forgotten all
+about swinging and was sitting on the ground with both hands clasped to
+his ribs and an expression of pained surprise on his face. When he had
+regained his breath and the use of his legs, Fudge thought that the joy
+of his team-mates was very ill-considered. It seemed nothing to them
+that he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of an infuriated
+baseball; they only shouted and jumped about because a run had been
+forced in!
+
+Fudge walked painfully to first, reflecting how differently his hero
+would have performed. There was something distinctly humiliating to
+Fudge in gaining his base in such a manner, and so deeply did he feel
+the humiliation that he quite forgot to heed the warnings of Gordon,
+coaching behind the base, and was surprised to have Loring Townsend,
+without any provocation, punch him forcibly in exactly the spot that
+Mason's in-shoot had collided with. That was too much for Fudge. The
+pain brought tears to his eyes and wrath to his heart. He sprang upon
+the first baseman with clenched fists, and only Gordon's prompt
+interference prevented trouble. Gordon haled Fudge away, patiently
+explaining that Loring had tagged him with the ball while he had been
+apparently fast asleep a yard off the base. The explanation, however,
+was not entirely satisfactory to Fudge.
+
+"What of it? He didn't have to punch me in the ribs as hard as he knew
+how, did he?" demanded Fudge angrily. "What kind of a way is that to
+play ball?"
+
+"Shut up, Fudge!" said Gordon exasperatedly. "Why the dickens weren't
+you watching the pitcher? What's the good of getting hit if you get put
+out the next minute?"
+
+"Good of it!" exclaimed Fudge. "Good of it! There isn't any good of it!
+I just wish he'd lammed you in the ribs the way he did me! Good of it!"
+And Fudge, still muttering, wandered disgustedly out to center field,
+one hand pressed to his side.
+
+The seventh inning passed uneventfully. Tom had small difficulty with
+the last three men on the Point batting-list, and Mason disposed of Tom
+Haley and Harry Bryan with five balls apiece, and caused Will Scott to
+pop up a foul to first baseman. So the eighth inning started and Dick
+began to breathe easier, and the Clearfield sympathizers were jubilant.
+After all, three runs was a good lead, and even if the Point got to
+batting Tom in the next two innings, surely Clearfield could stop them
+short of three tallies. Thus argued Dick, and said as much to Harold,
+who, to-day, at least, was divided in his sympathies. Harold, having
+predicted great things of Mason, was a bit disgruntled with that youth,
+and expressed the wish once that Clearfield would wallop him out of the
+box. But when Dick voiced his belief that the game was pretty safe
+Harold took exception.
+
+"You wait," he said darkly. "Here comes Loring up. He hasn't done
+anything yet, and he's just bound to. And if he gets on Gil Chase will
+send him home. You wait!"
+
+Loring Townsend let two balls go by, failed to size up the third
+delivery as a strike, and swung unsuccessfully at the next. With the
+score two and two, Tom sped a straight one over and Loring met it with
+his bat and set out for first. He didn't run very fast, though, for the
+hit was a weak one and was bounding straight at Will Scott at third. But
+Will made a mess of that play. He got the ball, dropped it, found it
+again and threw hurriedly across the diamond. Gordon leaped into the
+air, just managed to tip the ball with his fingers, and then dashed off
+on a chase for it as it rolled toward the fence. When the shouting had
+died away, Loring was on second, Al Jensen was swinging his bat eagerly
+and impatiently, and Harold had dropped his score-book between his feet
+and didn't know it!
+
+That was a disastrous inning for Clearfield. Tom managed to strike out
+Jensen after that player had knocked six fouls into various parts of the
+field, and managed, too, to hold Loring on second. But when Gil Chase
+got the signal from first and trickled the ball into the pitcher's box
+while Loring sped to third, Tom, with plenty of time to make the out at
+first, tossed the ball six feet over Gordon's head and Loring slid home
+with the first run for the Point, while Chase got to second.
+
+Then Tom had his troubles. His misplay had taken his nerve, and for a
+while he went thoroughly to pieces. Eight batsmen faced him in that
+inning, and four hits, for a total of six bases, and five runs were made
+off him before he finally managed to strike out Mason. When that inning
+was over the game had a different complexion. Instead of being three
+runs ahead, with the prospect of winning a shut-out, Clearfield was two
+tallies behind, and defeat stared her in the face.
+
+The home team returned determinedly to the fray, but Mason was
+impregnable. In the last of the eighth not a man saw first and only four
+players faced him. In the first of the ninth, Rutter's Point again
+started things with a whoop when Caspar Billings, first up, singled into
+left field, took second on Townsend's sacrifice, and was advanced to
+third when Jensen hit past Will Scott. Then Jensen was caught off first
+and House flied out to Shores.
+
+I would like to tell how Clearfield went to bat in the last half of that
+final inning and pounded Mason for enough hits to win the game. But as
+this isn't one of Fudge's romances I can't do anything of the sort. As a
+matter of regrettable fact, Clearfield stood up to the plate and watched
+Mason's "floaters" waft past them and listened to the fateful voice of
+the umpire calling strikes. Mason ended the day in a blaze of glory,
+striking out three men in order and sending his team off the field
+victors by the score of 5 to 3.
+
+Harold Townsend, slapping his score-book shut, grinned at Dick as the
+last man went out. "What did I tell you?" he asked gleefully. "Say, you
+fellows can't play ball for shucks, Lovering!"
+
+Dick smiled imperturbably. He had the ability to smile in the face of
+disaster, had Dick.
+
+"We'll try you again some day," he answered. "Good-bye, Harold. See you
+Monday."
+
+"I may not be home," replied Harold airily.
+
+But when Dick was accompanying his team-mates toward the dressing-room a
+minute or two later, he felt a hand on his arm and looked around to find
+that Harold had followed him.
+
+"Say, Lovering, I--I'm sorry your team got beaten. And thanks for
+showing me about scoring, you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HAROLD MAKES A PROMISE
+
+
+The Clearfield _Reporter_ was quite enthusiastic over the game in its
+Monday's issue. There had been, it declared, for some time a demand for
+a baseball team to represent the city, a demand which had now been
+satisfied in the recent formation of the club which had given such a
+good account of itself on Saturday. It was to be hoped that the
+organization would prosper and receive the support of the many lovers of
+clean sport residing in the town. The _Reporter_ gave the game almost
+play by play, indulging in a wealth of baseball slang and metaphor
+worthy of a metropolitan journal. It was quite evident that the writer
+had thoroughly enjoyed his task. He dealt out praise lavishly and was
+especially complimentary to the Rutter's Point pitcher, who, it seemed,
+had struck out ten batsmen besides fielding his position perfectly.
+Incidentally the _Reporter_ provided the information that the Clearfield
+players had failed to obtain.
+
+"Melville Mason," said the paper, "gives every promise of becoming a
+top-notch twirler, and there is no doubt a berth awaiting him in one of
+the big league teams if he wants it. He has been playing ball for six
+years, and last season was second-choice pitcher on the Erskine College
+team. He is nineteen years of age. The Rutter's Point team is to be
+congratulated on securing the services of so accomplished a player. We
+are assured by Captain Billings that Mr. Mason receives no salary."
+("Bet you he's having his expenses paid, though," commented Gordon, when
+he and Dick read the _Reporter_ that morning.) "We trust," concluded the
+_Reporter_, "that a third and determining game will be arranged between
+Saturday's adversaries and that it will be played on the local grounds,
+where, doubtless, a large audience will be on hand to enjoy it."
+
+"That isn't a bad idea," said Lanny. "We took in forty-three dollars
+Saturday. I dare say we could do even better the next time. And I don't
+believe but what the Pointers would be willing to play here if they got
+their twenty-five per cent. again."
+
+"We might offer them a third of the receipts," suggested Gordon.
+
+Dick looked puzzled. "You fellows are frightfully keen on the financial
+end of it, seems to me," he said. "What's the idea, Lanny? What are we
+going to do with the money we get, anyway? We can't buy balls with all
+of it."
+
+"Well, there's no harm in having it," replied Lanny evasively. "You
+never know when you'll need money."
+
+"I know when I need it," said Dick grimly. "That's most of the time."
+
+"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to sound Billings," said Gordon. "You might
+tell him we'd like to play a deciding game, and that--er--that as
+Clearfield is interested in the series it would perhaps be best to play
+here. If Billings kicked, you could offer him a third. I dare say we'd
+get a couple of hundred people easily for the next game, and that would
+give the Point something like seventeen dollars."
+
+"I don't believe they're as much on the make as you Shylocks," objected
+Dick. "Still, I'll talk it over with him some day. Perhaps, though, it
+would be better to wait and see if they won't propose the game
+themselves. Then we'd be in a better position to make conditions."
+
+"Isn't he the nifty old diplomat?" asked Lanny admiringly.
+
+"A regular fox," agreed Gordon. "Work it your own way, Dick."
+
+"We can't play them for about three weeks, anyway," said Dick. "We're
+filled up with games until the third of September. I got a letter from
+Tyson over in Springdale this morning. He says they'll play us there a
+week from next Saturday if we'll come over. What do you say?"
+
+"I say yes, by all means," replied Gordon, with enthusiasm. "And I guess
+we're all eager to have another try at those chaps after what they did
+to us in June."
+
+"Well, it won't be quite the same team, Tyson says, and they're calling
+themselves the Independents."
+
+"We'll call them down," laughed Lanny. "We play Logan the day after
+to-morrow, don't we?"
+
+"Yes, and that reminds me that I must see to getting notices printed and
+sent around. I wish you'd do that, Gordon. I've got to go out to the
+Point in half an hour. I'll write out the copy and all you'll have to do
+is to take it down to the printers. They'll strike them right off and
+distribute them for us this afternoon."
+
+"All right. I'll go there first thing. I'm going to see Morris for a few
+minutes this morning. Any little message I can take from you, Dick?"
+
+"Message? No, not that I know of. Tell him I hope he will hurry up and
+get well again."
+
+"Of course, but--ah!--is there any other member of the family----"
+
+"Oh, you run away!" laughed Dick.
+
+If Dick expected to find a chastened and much reformed pupil at the
+Point that Monday morning, he was doomed to disappointment. He gathered
+from a remark that the boy let fall that Mrs. Townsend had kept her
+promise to speak to him, but Dick doubted if she had accomplished much.
+And yet there was improvement visible. Harold had actually mastered two
+of the four lessons and Dick gathered some encouragement.
+
+"I guess we won't go on with this," he said toward the end of the
+period. "You haven't studied it, Harold. We'll take it over to-morrow.
+How did you like the game Saturday?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well! You fellows going to play us again?"
+
+"Maybe, some day. We play Logan Wednesday. Do you care to come over and
+see it? We might have another lesson in scoring."
+
+"I guess so. We're going to play a team from Bay Harbor on Saturday.
+Say, Loring says if I'll learn to score, I can be official scorer for
+the team. I guess I'll do it."
+
+"Fine! Then you come over Wednesday, and we'll try it again. You did
+very well the other day."
+
+"Did I really? Gee, but there's a lot to put down, isn't there? Caspar's
+got six games arranged for the team. Loring says if I'm scorer they'll
+take me with them when they go away to play."
+
+That was really no news to Dick, since it was at his suggestion that
+Loring had made the offer. But he pretended to be surprised and
+interested, and said all he could to encourage Harold to learn to score.
+And Harold became so enthusiastic that he walked over to the trolley car
+with Dick, talking volubly all the way.
+
+"I wish you'd make a real try at those lessons to-day, Harold," Dick
+said, at parting. "Won't you?"
+
+Harold grinned noncommittingly.
+
+But the next morning he went through with flying colors, and when Dick
+complimented him he laughed. "Gee, I can get that stuff all right if I
+want to," he said carelessly. "It's easy."
+
+"Why don't you, then?"
+
+"Aw, what's the use? I'd rather play around, anyway."
+
+"Don't you want to go to Rifle Point, Harold?"
+
+"I guess so. I don't care much. If I do, Loring will be always bossing
+me about. I'd rather go somewhere else, I guess."
+
+"Loring's being there will make things easier for you," said Dick. "I
+fancy he's pretty well liked and the fellows will be nice to you on his
+account. But I'll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won't get to
+Rifle Point this Fall."
+
+Harold opened his eyes widely. "I won't?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Certainly not. And you won't get there next Fall unless you buckle down
+and learn something."
+
+"Loring said I could!"
+
+"Loring probably thought you were more advanced than you are, then,"
+replied Dick. "I'm sorry, Harold; but facts are facts."
+
+"Then what'll I do this Winter?" asked the boy lugubriously.
+
+"How about another year where you were?"
+
+"I won't! I hate that place! I won't go back there, no matter what
+anyone says!"
+
+"Then you might have a tutor."
+
+That suggestion didn't seem to make much of a hit. Harold scowled for a
+minute in silence. Then: "Don't you think I could get in this Fall,
+Lovering, if--if I studied hard?"
+
+Dick hesitated.
+
+"I'm entered, you know," pleaded Harold. "I should think I might,
+Lovering."
+
+"Yes, you might," returned Dick grimly, "but it would mean studying a
+good deal differently than the way you've been studying, Harold. It
+would mean getting your nose right down into the books, putting your
+whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime. Think you could do
+that?"
+
+It was Harold's turn to hesitate. Finally, though, he nodded.
+
+"Well, do you think you _would_ do it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Sure, if--if you'll help me!"
+
+"I'll help you, all right, Harold. But there must be no changing your
+mind about it later. If we start this thing, we're going to keep it up.
+If you'll work honestly and do the very best you know how, I'll get you
+so you can pass the exams this Fall. What do you say? Is it a bargain?"
+
+"You bet!" said Harold.
+
+"All right. Hand me those books, please." Dick turned the pages and made
+new marks on the margins of them. "There; we'll start off with eight
+pages instead of four, Harold. We've got to pretty nearly break all
+existing records, I guess."
+
+Harold whistled softly. "Gee!" he murmured. "Eight pages of that stuff!"
+Dick looked across inquiringly. Harold squared his shoulders with the
+suggestion of a swagger. "Oh, I'll do it, all right!" he said. "You just
+watch me!"
+
+Wednesday's game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic
+field than had the Saturday contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets
+of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received
+only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was
+one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan
+pitchers--she used two of them--were easy for the home-team batsmen,
+while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two of Logan's runs resulted
+from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender,
+and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an
+atrocious throw to second.
+
+On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone after breakfast. It was
+Louise Brent at the other end of the line, and Louise informed him that
+Morris wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. "It's something
+about the automobile," explained Louise. "There's a man here to look at
+it, Gordon."
+
+Gordon promised to go right over, and did so. What passed in the sick
+chamber is not to be set down here, but later Gordon went out to the
+stable and stood around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge on the
+end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically and grunted
+at intervals. Finally:
+
+"About fifty dollars will do it," he said, in a sad tone of voice.
+"There'll have to be new spokes set in that wheel, and them fenders'll
+have to be straightened out again, and it'll need a new lamp and the
+radiator's sprung and likely leaks and----"
+
+"Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?" asked Gordon.
+
+"I don't know how good it was when it was new," responded the man
+dolefully. "But fifty dollars'll fix it up in good shape, likely."
+
+"All right. I'll tell him, and he will let you know. Could you start on
+it right away?"
+
+"Likely I could. I'd have to haul it down to my place, though."
+
+"How long would it take?"
+
+"Two or three weeks, likely."
+
+"All right. Much obliged. We'll let you know for certain to-morrow.
+Fifty dollars is the cheapest you could do it for?"
+
+"Well"--the man scratched his head reflectively--"maybe I could do it
+for forty-five, if I didn't find anything else the matter with it.
+Likely there ain't."
+
+They called him "Mr. Likely" during the following three weeks, for which
+period of time the runabout was in his care. Mr. Likely was a born
+pessimist, and about every two days he called up the Brents' house to
+inform whoever answered the telephone that "that wheel's a lot worse'n I
+thought it was, and'll likely have to have a new rim," or "I got to send
+out West for a new lamp, and it'll likely take two weeks or more." But,
+to anticipate, Mr. Likely made a good job of it, and in the course of
+time the blue runabout was returned to the Brents' stable, shining and
+polished like a brand-new car. By that time the family had moved out to
+the cottage at the Point, and it was Gordon who saw the automobile run
+into the carriage-room under its own power and who locked the door
+afterward and pocketed the key.
+
+Morris' leg had knitted so well by the time Clearfield played Springdale
+that he was allowed to make the trip to the neighboring town in a
+carriage and witnessed the contest from a position far more comfortable
+than the sun-smitten boards of the grandstand. That was a pretty good
+game to watch, too. There was plenty of hitting on both sides, enough
+errors to add interest, and several rattling good plays. The game was in
+doubt until the last inning, when Clearfield, with a one-run margin,
+trotted into the field to do her best to hold the home team scoreless.
+Tom Haley had been touched up for eight or nine hits--Dick and Harold
+made it eight, but the Springdale scorer insisted on nine--and, as luck
+would have it, the head of the local batting list was up when the last
+of the ninth began. But Tom and Lanny worked together finely, and,
+although one runner got as far as second, the game ended with a
+spectacular catch by Fudge in deep center, and Clearfield went home with
+the ball. The final score was 7 to 6, and Clearfield derived a lot of
+satisfaction from that victory.
+
+The Saturday before she had played Locust Valley, and had been pretty
+badly defeated, and the following Wednesday she had barely pulled out of
+the game against Corwin with a victory. Corwin had journeyed to
+Clearfield for the contest and the club treasury had had another
+twenty-odd dollars added to it. What puzzled Manager Dick Lovering those
+days was the interest displayed by the whole team in the condition of
+the exchequer. It seemed to Dick that every fellow was showing a
+strangely commercial spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE LIVE WIRES
+
+
+The matter of a new athletic field dragged. Two more meetings had been
+held by the committee, and several trips of inspection had been made to
+near-by fields, but no decision had been reached. In the meanwhile, the
+surveyors had shown activity and had run lines through the old field and
+even demolished a section of the fence. It was a question whether the
+team would be able to use the diamond much longer, although inquiries
+failed to elicit any definite information from the men who were doing
+the surveying. The football enthusiasts were becoming impatient. The
+prospect of having no better place to hold practice the next month than
+an empty lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad didn't please
+them, and they demanded action.
+
+Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, the principal, had left Clearfield on his
+summer vacation, and several other members of the High School faculty
+were also out of town, and the committee showed a disposition to await
+their return. The hope was several times expressed that, since Mr. Brent
+had done nothing with the field so far, he might postpone cutting it up
+until next year. But when the surveyors got to work that hope seemed
+idle, and at last a public meeting was called at which the Athletic
+Committee was to make a report and recommend the leasing of what was
+known as Tilden's Meadow for a term of two years. The meadow was a mile
+from Clearfield and on the trolley route to Rutter's Point, and
+consisted of about fourteen acres of fairly level turf. Only sufficient
+space for a football field and diamond was to be used, and the rest of
+the land was to remain as at present. Mr. Tilden was to keep the grass
+cut in return for the hay and was to receive one hundred dollars a year.
+There was no question of having a running track, for the owner
+absolutely refused to allow one to be laid out, and that, at first
+glance, seemed a great objection to the project. But, as several of the
+committee pointed out, there was no money on hand to build a track even
+if Mr. Tilden would allow it. The plan was to make use of the Y. M. C.
+A. field, a small enclosure behind the Association's building on
+Lafayette Street, for training purposes, and hold the meets with
+Springdale at the latter's grounds until Clearfield could secure a track
+of its own.
+
+A piece of land sufficiently large for all athletic purposes was to be
+had across the river and fairly handy to the G Street Bridge, but it was
+next to the railroad tracks and the mills and the sentiment of the
+female members of the High School was strongly opposed to it. "It would
+be horrid!" they declared indignantly. "The smoke and soot from the
+engines and the mill chimneys would spoil our dresses and hats. And,
+besides, we'd have to walk a whole block through dust up to our
+shoe-tops!"
+
+In the face of such weighty opposition the committee gave way, and the
+North Side location was abandoned. Only Tilden's meadow remained then,
+and to that, too, there was much opposition. Many thought it too far
+from town; others pointed out that, since it was unfenced, there would
+be no way of keeping persons from witnessing games without paying, and
+still others dwelt on the lack of a track. The Athletic Committee was
+not to be envied.
+
+Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning. Dick had got into the
+habit lately of walking over to the Brents' in the morning before going
+out to the Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the car,
+although it is true that by retracing his steps two blocks he could get
+the trolley at B Street and consequently went only seven blocks out of
+his way. But seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is quite
+a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered by the interest in
+his recovery which led Dick so far afield four or five mornings a week.
+Dick began by taking books to Morris, but his library was soon
+exhausted, and after that he continued to call just the same. Of course
+he always saw Morris, and equally of course Louise appeared at some
+period of his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to have doubts
+as to being the chief attraction. At all events he very frequently left
+Dick for his sister to entertain and it wasn't apparent that Dick
+mourned his absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and
+sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should not have been quite
+satisfied with her company.
+
+On the morning in question, the morning of the Wednesday following the
+Springdale game, Morris had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to
+the gate and back and having his proposition declined, wandered away
+toward the tennis court, leaving Dick and Louise on the front steps,
+which, at nine o'clock in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had
+brought up the subject of the athletic field and both Morris and Louise
+had had their say. Morris, who was an ardent football enthusiast and
+played a good game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact that,
+with practice commencing in another three weeks or so, no place had been
+provided for it. Louise had reminded him gently that the doctor held out
+slight hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris had briefly
+and succinctly informed them that the doctor was an old granny and
+didn't know what he was talking about. When he had gone Louise said:
+
+"You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa not to take the field,
+but he wouldn't listen to us. He said the school could find another
+place to play on without trouble. He seems to think that all we need is
+a back yard or a vacant lot! I don't think papa ever saw a game of
+baseball or football in his life."
+
+"It is too bad that he has to cut that field up," replied Dick, "but I
+don't see any reason why he should consider us any. He's been very good
+to let us use it so long. And he's never charged us a penny, you know."
+
+"May Scott told me yesterday that her father had told her that the field
+might not be cut up after all. It seems that the mayor or whoever it is
+that has the say about such things doesn't want papa to put the street
+through there unless he builds it up to some grade or other. I don't
+understand about it. And papa doesn't want to do that."
+
+"Yes, I heard something of that sort. I believe the matter is to come up
+at a meeting this week. It's the board of aldermen, I think, who are
+against it. It seems that the city has established a new grade out there
+and the present grade is several feet below it. I suppose it means that
+your father would have to do a good deal of filling in if he put the
+street through. Otherwise the city wouldn't accept it."
+
+"It sounds awfully complicated to me," said Louise. "I just wish father
+would change his mind about it. I almost wish the--the aldermen would
+tell him he couldn't do it!"
+
+"Perhaps they will," laughed Dick. "But in that case your father would
+probably build to the new grade. So there isn't much hope, I fear. No, I
+guess it's up to us to move to new quarters. It's a queer thing that in
+a town of this size there isn't a place we can use."
+
+"I know. And that field they're talking about now is so hard to get to!
+Of course, there's the trolley, but it's been such fun to walk out to
+the games and have the field so near home. Your team plays a game this
+afternoon, doesn't it, Dick?"
+
+"A sort of a game. We're going to play a team called the Live Wires at
+four o'clock. They're fellows in the mills and I guess they haven't
+played together much. It'll be sort of a practice affair for us. Tom
+Haley can't play and Curtis Wayland is going to pitch for us. You
+haven't been to any of the games, have you?"
+
+"No one has asked me," she laughed. "Morris has been laid up and----"
+
+"Would you care to go Saturday? We play the Hemlock Camp fellows. I
+guess they have a pretty good team."
+
+"I'd love to!"
+
+"Then I----" Dick paused and frowned. "The trouble is," he went on
+apologetically, "I'll have to be on the bench a good deal of the time.
+Perhaps you'd rather not go."
+
+"I shouldn't mind. Just come and see me now and then, Dick."
+
+"Really? Then I'll get Gordon or one of the fellows to call for you
+about half-past two."
+
+"Indeed?" asked Louise coldly. "Why Gordon--or one of the fellows,
+please?"
+
+"Why--why--because," stammered Dick, "I thought probably you'd rather
+not--That is, I get along so slowly, you know----"
+
+"Dick Lovering, you were going to say you thought I wouldn't want to
+walk with you! Weren't you?"
+
+"Well, something of the sort. You see----"
+
+"No, I don't see at all," she responded with suspicious sweetness. "I
+shall be very glad to go to the game with you, Dick, but I refuse to be
+palmed off on 'Gordon or one of the fellows!'"
+
+"Then I'll be here for you at two-thirty, Louise. It isn't very far,
+after all; only three blocks, you know."
+
+"I ought to know," she said dryly, "since I can see the top of the
+grandstand this minute. I may decide, however, that I want to go by way
+of the Common, Dick."
+
+Dick smiled doubtfully. "We-ell, that's all right. I'm game! Now I guess
+I'd better be getting along."
+
+"The car just went in," said Louise. "You've got nearly a quarter of an
+hour yet. How are you getting along with your pupil?"
+
+"Finely! I tell him two or three times a week that we'll never be able
+to do it, and he doubles up his fists and glares at me and wants to
+fight--almost. He's an awfully stubborn little chap and he's simply made
+up his mind that he's going to get into school this Fall, and I think he
+will, too. He will if I can keep him mad!" And Dick, smiling, went
+swinging off to catch the car.
+
+That game with the Live Wires wasn't as easy for Clearfield as Dick and
+Gordon and most of the others expected it to be. Of course Way wasn't
+much of a pitcher, and that had to be reckoned with, but even allowing
+for that the Live Wires showed up a lot better than anticipated. From a
+financial standpoint the game was a huge success, in spite of the fact
+that the admission had been lowered to fifteen cents to entice the mill
+workers to attend. Attend they did, and "rooted" so lustily and
+incessantly for their team that poor Way was more than once up in the
+air. Young Tim Turner played in right field and Jack Tappen went over to
+left in place of Way. Tim didn't do so badly, since out of three chances
+he got two flies and only muffed the third because the crowd hooted so
+loudly.
+
+It was quite a tight game up to the fifth inning, with both pitchers
+suffering badly at the hands of the opposing batsmen and both infields
+guilty of many stupid errors. But in the fifth Clearfield landed on
+Kelly, the Live Wires' pitcher, and batted around before they were
+stopped, adding seven runs to the six already accumulated. In the
+seventh the opposing team returned the compliment and had Way dancing
+out of the path of liners and giving bases on the least provocation. But
+the infield steadied down then and only three runs came over for the
+Live Wires. The final score was fourteen to eight and Dick, who had
+acted as gateman in Tim's absence, turned over nearly seventeen dollars
+to himself as treasurer. So, on the whole, the game was a success.
+
+When Dick got home after the game his mother told him that a Mr. Potter,
+from the _Reporter_, had called to see him and would be back about
+eight. Gordon came over after supper and was still there when the
+representative of the newspaper repeated his call. Mr. Potter, a
+wide-awake, energetic young man of twenty-five or six years, professed
+his pleasure at finding Gordon on hand. "Because," he said as he took a
+chair in the Loverings' little parlor, "I want to talk about another
+game of ball between your team and the Point. I wrote the story of the
+last game, by the way. I don't know whether you saw it?"
+
+"Yes, we read it," said Dick. "It was awfully good, I thought."
+
+"I used to do that sort of stuff in Hartford. Well, say, fellows, how
+about another game? Anything doing along that line?"
+
+"Yes, we're to play the Point again later. There hasn't been any date
+set yet, though."
+
+"Well, that's good. I mean I'm glad you're going to get together again.
+Folks who saw that game enjoyed it. There's nothing like a game of ball
+to bring folks out and give them a good time. Now, Stevens--he's my boss
+on the _Reporter_, you know--Stevens wants to get up a rousing good game
+for the final one, see? You and what's-his-name out at the Point set a
+date; make it some Saturday, of course; and let me know and the
+_Reporter_ will whoop things up. How would it do if we got the retail
+tradesmen or someone to offer a prize? Say a silver cup or a phonograph
+or a set of books or something? What the _Reporter_ wants to do is to
+stir up some excitement; see? Get a big crowd there, have the Mayor
+throw out the ball, get folks pulling for the home team and all that
+sort of thing. Great scheme, eh? What do you fellows think?"
+
+The boys looked both doubtful and perplexed.
+
+"Why, I don't know, Mr. Potter, that we want to make a--a Roman holiday
+of it," objected Dick. "We started up the team just to have some fun,
+you see."
+
+"Well, you'll have your fun, won't you?" asked the newspaper man
+eagerly. "Don't mind winning a prize and making a little money, too, do
+you? Look here, fellows, I'm keen on this. I want to make it go. To tell
+the truth, it was my idea. I put it up to Stevens and he fell for it.
+This town needs livening up. Say, honest, we could have the finest sort
+of a hullabaloo without half trying!"
+
+"I don't see why not, Dick," observed Gordon, thinking a good deal of
+the money side of the project.
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds sort of like a four-ring circus,
+doesn't it?" He asked. "Still, I don't mind. I dare say it would amuse
+folks."
+
+"Amuse 'em! Say, I'll guarantee to have 'em talking nothing but baseball
+in a week! I'll get 'em so they'll be offering fancy prices for the
+first row in the grandstand!"
+
+The boys laughed. There was something infectious in the man's enthusiasm
+and the proposed affair began to loom up as a huge and very amusing
+lark.
+
+"Do you really think you can do it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Watch me! I'll run a story to-morrow on the first page that
+negotiations are under way looking to a deciding game, see? And I'll
+hint that there is so much feeling between the two teams that the
+outcome is doubtful. Then----"
+
+"That's hardly truthful, is it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Well, maybe I can get around that," was the untroubled reply. "I'll say
+that the folks at the Point are so certain that their team will win that
+they're willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third game."
+
+"You've got some imagination," laughed Gordon.
+
+"Have to have in my business," replied Mr. Potter with satisfaction.
+"You trust me to work up the excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go
+the limit. We'll print your score-cards for you, and--that reminds me.
+How about a band? Ought to have a band there, oughtn't we?"
+
+"Bands cost a good deal," Gordon objected.
+
+"What of it? Why, say, we'll have three or four hundred folks to see
+that game! We'll get 'em in from the country and over from Springdale
+and Corwin and from miles around. It might be a good idea----" Mr.
+Potter paused and stared into space a moment. Then he nodded vehemently.
+"That's the scheme! I'll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that
+afternoon. Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday."
+
+Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in amazement.
+
+"Why--why he wouldn't do that, would he?" gasped Gordon. "Not just for a
+ball game?"
+
+"Sure, he would, if the _Reporter_ got after him hard. Say, you see that
+Point fellow, whatever his name is, and let me know by day after
+to-morrow. And don't put it off too long. Let's strike while the iron's
+hot. Folks want to see baseball now. In another three weeks it'll be
+about out of season. Well, that's all. Glad to have met you fellows."
+Mr. Potter shook hands briskly. "We'll give Clearfield a ball game she
+won't forget! Good-night. I'll see you again in a day or two."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MR. POTTER GETS BUSY
+
+
+When he was gone the two boys looked at each other a moment and then
+began to laugh.
+
+"Rather takes your breath away, doesn't he?" gasped Gordon.
+
+"I should say so! And of all crazy stunts----"
+
+"Get out! It's going to be a heap of fun! I'm for it--strong!"
+
+"So I see. But maybe the Pointers won't care to take part in such a
+silly affair."
+
+"Why not? Why, we'll offer them twenty-five per cent. of the gate
+receipts and they'll be dead anxious."
+
+"Pshaw! They don't need any money. What would they do with it?"
+
+"Do with it? Why--why, what would anyone do with it? Eat it, of course!"
+
+"That's what I'd like to know. What are _we_ going to do with it, for
+instance?"
+
+"Oh, there's a lot of things we can do with it, Dick. We might--might
+give it to charity or--or--oh, lots of things!"
+
+"Well, we're in for it, anyway. I'll talk to Caspar to-morrow. I guess
+two weeks from next Saturday would be a good date. The trouble is
+they've got a lot of games arranged and they may not be able to play
+us."
+
+"You tell them what this Potter chap says and whoop it up, Dick. They
+can cancel a game if they want to."
+
+True to his word, Mr. Potter started the ball rolling the next morning.
+The _Reporter_ contained an announcement on the front page under a big
+head:
+
+                            MAY PLAY OFF TIE
+                CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT BALL TEAMS
+                    NEGOTIATE FOR THIRD GAME--BITTER
+                             RIVALRY EXISTS
+
+"Who has the better ball team, Clearfield or Rutter's Point? That's the
+question that is agitating both this community and the summer colony at
+the end of the trolley. And, if present plans carry, it is a question
+that will soon be settled definitely, and, we hope, to the satisfaction
+of Clearfield. Negotiations are to be opened to-day between
+representatives of the two teams looking to a third and deciding contest
+to be played on the High School field some time between now and the end
+of the month. Each nine has won one game and each nine claims to be a
+little better than the other. Over at the Point they are so certain that
+they have the champion bunch of players that they're willing to do most
+anything to secure another game with Clearfield. At this end of the line
+there is an equally strong conviction to the effect that our own
+aggregation has more than a shade on the Point team. That's the way it
+stands now, but the _Reporter_ hopes to be able to announce in another
+day or two that the managers and backers of the rival teams have met and
+agreed on a deciding game. In which case we predict that those who are
+fortunate enough to witness the final battle will see a struggle they
+won't forget in a long time. Watch for developments!"
+
+Besides that highly-colored effusion there was a short editorial inside
+in which the writer extolled athletics in general and baseball in
+particular. In twenty lines the writer alluded to Greek athletes, Roman
+games, Christopher Mathewson, Tyrus Cobb, the American Eagle, the Spirit
+of Fair Play and Clearfield. The style of the two productions was so
+much alike that Dick and Gordon decided that Mr. Potter was responsible
+for both.
+
+"I hope," said Dick, "that Caspar won't see this until I've prepared him
+for it. He will think we've gone crazy!"
+
+As it happened, however, Caspar Billings was much too busy playing
+tennis that morning to read the _Clearfield Reporter_, and when Dick met
+him he knew nothing of Mr. Potter's activities. But five minutes later
+he had found the paper and was chuckling enjoyably over the story. "It's
+great!" he declared. "That fellow ought to be working in New York. He's
+lost in Clearfield. Say, we'll have more fun than a picnic out of this,
+Lovering. What sort of a prize did he say?"
+
+"A cup or a phonograph or--or something like that."
+
+"Me for a phonograph!" laughed Caspar. "Now, when can we play? Of
+course, we'll go over to your field. Have to, anyway. How about two
+weeks from Saturday?"
+
+"That's the day I was going to suggest," replied Dick.
+
+"That's all right for us. We had a game scheduled with a nine from the
+Ocean House at Traskville, but they telephoned the other day that they
+couldn't make up a team. That gives What's-his-name, your newspaper
+friend, a fortnight to work up the excitement. And I'll bet you he will
+do it!"
+
+"I guess there's no doubt about that," replied Dick. "That's settled,
+then, and I'll let Potter know. Did I tell you he wanted to get the
+Mayor to declare a holiday and have the stores close?"
+
+"Great Scott, no!" chuckled Caspar. "He's a wonder. Say, why don't you
+suggest to him that it would be a bully idea to have the Governor issue
+a proclamation? Wonder if the New York stock market will close,
+Lovering."
+
+"It will if Potter thinks of it," laughed Dick. "Well, I must be going.
+I'll see you again next week and we'll arrange about an umpire."
+
+"_An_ umpire!" scoffed Caspar. "We'll have to have two of them for this
+game; one at the plate and one on bases. Maybe your friend Potter can
+persuade President Johnson to officiate. This is going to be some game,
+Lovering!"
+
+"It's going to be a circus," replied Dick. "I dare say they'll be
+selling popcorn and peanuts there!"
+
+"Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I'm crazy about it. By the way, how
+are you and young Townsend getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the
+kid thinks you're about the finest thing that ever walked on--I
+mean----"
+
+"Ever hobbled on two crutches," laughed Dick. "Well, Harold and I pull
+together pretty well these days. The boy is really working like a slave,
+Billings. I didn't think he could do it."
+
+"He's a heap more decent than he was the first of the season. You always
+wanted to kick him then. Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose
+he's told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn't do so badly,
+either. If you criticize his way of scoring he looks at you haughtily
+and says, 'This is the way Lovering does it, and he knows!'"
+
+"You'll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your scorer doesn't do you
+justice, Billings. Good-bye!"
+
+It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational aspect of the third
+contest with Rutter's Point. Fudge loved excitement and color and
+romance, and for that reason the _Reporter's_ daily items about the
+soul-stirring event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book and
+almost filled it with the amazing articles that appeared from Mr.
+Potter's feverish and versatile pen. On the morning after Dick's call on
+Caspar Billings the _Reporter_ blazed forth at the top of the third
+column of the first page as follows:
+
+                          THIRD GAME AGREED ON
+
+               CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT TO PLAY OFF
+               TIE ON AUG. 27--LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT
+               STAKE--WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.
+
+What the captains said was that they expected a close game and didn't
+care to predict the winner. At least, that's what they really said. In
+Mr. Potter's account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot more.
+Gordon read his remarks with astonishment and began to wonder whether he
+had not possibly said all those things after all!
+
+[Illustration: "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"]
+
+Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and
+did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately, several of
+Louise's girl friends were there and Dick's frequent absences from her
+side were not so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned
+dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever captain, played the sort of
+baseball one reads of. The Camp's pitcher was something of a marvel and
+soon had Dick's charges eating out of his hand, to use Harold's
+expression. The contest developed into a pitcher's battle in which Tom
+had slightly the worst of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by
+the score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting as some
+previous contests, it was at least nearly free of errors and full of
+fast, clean playing. Dick regretted on the way home that Louise had seen
+a defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that she had enjoyed
+it all very much.
+
+"You must come a week from to-day," said Dick. "Lesterville is coming to
+play us a return game and that will be close and exciting, I think.
+Would you care to?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, only we'll be at the Point then. Still, I could come over
+on the trolley, couldn't I? I'll get Morris to come with me. I wouldn't
+think of having you come way over there for me, Dick."
+
+Dick expressed his entire willingness to go to the Point and escort her
+to town, but Louise refused to allow it. "If you'll come and see us
+during the game it will do just as well," she said. Dick didn't think
+so, but he said nothing.
+
+The mass meeting to take action on securing a new athletic field came
+off that evening in the High School assembly hall and, after much
+discussion, the meeting endorsed the committee's plan to lease Tilden's
+meadow for a term of two years. The committee reported that it had a
+balance on hand of twenty-eight dollars and forty-six cents and asked
+for more money. It was voted to appoint canvassers to visit the students
+and the graduates, and, if not enough money was secured from them, to
+ask the public to assist. Dick found himself one of the committee on
+subscriptions. Lanny was another. They sympathized with each other on
+their way home and were gibed at by Gordon and Fudge. Fudge offered Dick
+five cents then and there, and, his offer being unexpectedly accepted,
+had to borrow the nickel from Gordon.
+
+The next Monday the _Reporter_ announced that a silver cup was to be
+donated by the merchants as a prize for the team winning the baseball
+game and that it would be on exhibition all next week in the window of
+Wetherell's jewelry store. Tuesday afternoon Mr. Potter called on Dick
+with a proof of the poster which the _Reporter_ was getting out. It was
+a gay piece of work in red and green ink and well calculated to attract
+the eye. In the center was a picture of a batsman with a flashing eye
+and a poised bat. That was printed in red. The lettering was in green
+and announced: "Championship Baseball! Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
+High School Field, Saturday, September third, two-thirty o'clock. Music
+by Nagel's Band. Admission 50 Cents, Reserved Seats 75 Cents. Tickets at
+Howland's Drug Store, and at the Field before the game."
+
+"We're going to use a heavy cardboard stock," explained Mr. Potter, "and
+we'll strike off a hundred of 'em. We're going to charge you just what
+the stock and the labor cost us and no more."
+
+"What about the score-cards?" asked Dick.
+
+"Won't cost you a cent. I've got about a dozen advertisements and those
+will pay for the cards. Another thing we're going to do is to run an ad
+of the game on Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next week."
+
+"That's very kind," murmured Dick. "You really think folks will pay
+seventy-five cents for seats? Wouldn't it be better to make the prices
+fifty cents and a quarter?"
+
+"I don't think so, Lovering. We want 'em to understand that what they're
+going to see is a real game of ball. They'll pay the price all right.
+That reminds me of another thing. How would it do for you fellows to get
+hold of a crackerjack pitcher for this game? You could get one for
+thirty dollars or so. There's Lafferty, of Providence, for instance. I
+dare say he'd twirl for you for twenty-five and his expenses. He's a
+corker, too! I've seen him work."
+
+"I guess not," replied Dick. "I think we'll stick to home talent. It
+seems a bit fairer."
+
+"Well, just as you say. This fellow Mason, though, is pretty good, and
+everyone would like to see the home team win that game. Better think it
+over. If you change your mind you let me know and I'll attend to the
+matter for you. I suppose you chaps are keeping up practice pretty
+well?"
+
+"Yes, we practice every day except when there's a game."
+
+"That's the ticket! You play Lesterville next Saturday, don't you? Well,
+I'll give a good write-up of the game on Monday. Got to keep the
+excitement going."
+
+When the newspaper man had gone Dick went out to the porch and sank into
+his favorite chair beside the little table. He was tired and the day was
+a scorching hot one. There had been a solid three hours that morning
+with Harold Townsend and, although Harold had done his share without a
+whimper, it had been pretty hard for teacher as well as pupil. Dick
+closed his eyes and frowned in the green shadow of the vines. Was Harold
+going to make it? There were times when Dick was sure that he would, but
+also there were moments, usually when, as to-day, he was fagged out,
+when he had his doubts. If Harold could remember what he had learned
+when the time came he would undoubtedly get through, but there was
+always the danger that he wouldn't. Dick sighed. At least, though, he
+reflected, his frown fading, he was doing his honest best for the boy.
+And--and here the frown quite disappeared--he had made a nice lot of
+money that was greatly needed. He would, he told himself, have enough by
+the middle of the month, when Harold went off to Rifle Point to put the
+summer's work to the test, to pay for a new heater for the house. That
+was the most necessary improvement of the many that were needed. For the
+last two or three years the old furnace, never satisfactory, had quite
+failed to keep them comfortable in cold weather. Dick was wondering how
+much the hardware man would allow him for it when the gate clicked and
+Gordon and Morris Brent came up the path.
+
+Morris still used his crutches, but, as he explained, the doctor had
+told him yesterday that he might lay them aside in another week. "And
+I'll be mighty glad to," he added. "They're rotten things to have to get
+about with." Then his eye fell on Dick's crutches, leaning within reach,
+and he colored. "I guess I oughtn't to kick, though," he added hastily.
+
+Dick smiled. "They are awkward if you're not used to them, I suppose,
+Morris. I'm glad you're getting on so well. Gordon says you're going to
+move to the Point this week."
+
+Morris nodded. "Wednesday," he said. "I want you and Gordon to come out
+some evening and have dinner. Will you?"
+
+"Why, yes, I'd be glad to, Morris. Thank you."
+
+"Then I'll settle on a day with the folks. Mother told me to tell you
+she wanted very much to have you. Louise, too. How would Saturday do?"
+
+"All right, I think. We have a game Saturday, but I dare say it will be
+over by five. What time do you dine?"
+
+"Seven. That'll give you heaps of time. I'm going to fetch Louise in to
+see the game and we can all go back together." Morris turned to Gordon.
+"That suit you?" he asked.
+
+"Finely. Could we get the quarter of six car, do you think? I'd like
+mighty well to get a swim before dinner. Got an extra bathing suit out
+there?"
+
+"You can take mine. What do you want to do with this?" Morris held up a
+book in a red cloth cover.
+
+"Oh, I brought that over for you, Dick," said Gordon. "That is, I
+borrowed it and he brought it. Thought you might like to look it over."
+
+"Much obliged," said Dick, accepting the volume and reading the title
+rather puzzledly. "'The Automobile; it's Care and Management.'
+Er--what----" He looked from Gordon to Morris. "What's the idea,
+fellows? I'm much obliged, of course, but why should I want to study up
+on autos, please?"
+
+"Oh, you like to know how to do everything," replied Gordon carelessly.
+"That's mighty interesting, isn't it, Morris?"
+
+"Great!" agreed the other enthusiastically. Dick still looked puzzled,
+but opened the book and glanced at two or three of its pages.
+
+"All right, I'll have a go at it some time. It does look interesting.
+Thank you." He laid the volume on the table. "What ever became of that
+car of yours, Morris?"
+
+"It's home. I'm going to sell it. I paid Stacey the rest of the money I
+owed him the other day. He's a mean little runt. Don't want to buy it,
+do you, Dick?"
+
+Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford it. It
+would be sort of handy for me to get around in, though, wouldn't it?
+Look here!" He viewed the two boys searchingly. "You fellows didn't
+bring me this book expecting I'd get daffy about automobiles and buy
+that one of yours, did you?"
+
+"Of course not," disclaimed Gordon hurriedly. "Besides, Morris has a
+buyer for that car already. That is, he thinks he has."
+
+"All right. Still I don't see why you think I want to read up on
+automobiles," said Dick. "What's the use of knowing how to run a car and
+grease its joints if I haven't got one and couldn't run it if I had?"
+
+"Couldn't run it! Of course you could run it," said Gordon. "Couldn't
+he, Morris?"
+
+"Easy! It's nothing to do. I could show you how in two days. Why----"
+
+But at that moment Morris encountered Gordon's warning look and
+subsided. Dick stared perplexedly.
+
+"I think you chaps are crazed by the heat," he said. "You've got
+automobiles on the brain. What you need, Gordie, is to get out and play
+ball. It must be about time to start for the field, too. By the way,
+Harry telephoned over at noon that he couldn't get out to-day."
+
+"Again? I'll bet anything Harry's father isn't keeping him away from
+practice. He's just lazy. I guess we'd better come down on him with that
+twenty-five cent fine!"
+
+"I'll go over with you and look on if you don't mind," said Morris. "You
+can't call me one of the enemy now, you know."
+
+"Glad to have you," responded Dick. "I'll put this book inside and we'll
+start along. We'll make a fine appearance," he laughed. "Two cripples
+and a crazy fellow!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+MR. BRENT TO THE RESCUE
+
+
+A big crowd turned out the following Saturday for the Lesterville game.
+As a manufacturing town Lesterville was something of a rival to
+Clearfield and baseball lovers of the latter place were eager to see the
+Lesterville players humbled. By half-past two--the game was scheduled
+for three o'clock--the stand was well filled. Dick's charges reached the
+field soon after the half-hour and began practice. They had, however,
+scarcely begun throwing the balls around when there was a commotion at
+the gate and Tim Turner was seen excitedly gesticulating toward Dick,
+who, near first base, was watching the team. Dick hurried across to the
+gate and found Tim trying to exclude a short, red-faced man in blue
+overalls.
+
+"He says he wants to get in to open the big gate," explained Tim. "He
+says they're going to begin work in here. They've got a cart down the
+street there and a lot of men and----"
+
+"Sure," said the man in overalls. "We're going to plow in here. Them's
+the orders."
+
+"But you can't do it now," exclaimed Dick. "We're going to play in half
+an hour. Those folks on the stand have paid to see the game. Can't you
+wait until Monday?"
+
+"We cannot," replied the man emphatically. "Mr. Brent give me the
+contract to build the street through here and me time's valuable. You'll
+have to play your game somewhere else, I'm thinking."
+
+"But we can't do that! There isn't any other place! Look here, Mr. Brent
+gave us permission to use this field and I'm sure he wouldn't want you
+to come and break up our game like this. The other fellows have come all
+the way from Lesterville to play us."
+
+"'Tis no affair of mine, young feller." The man tried to push by Dick
+and Tim, but many of the audience, attracted by the argument, had
+gathered around, and these, taking Dick's side, stood immovably in the
+way. The contractor showed anger. "Now you fellers let me through here
+till I open them gates down there," he blustered. "If you don't we'll
+break 'em down."
+
+"Try it!" said someone eagerly, and a laugh of approval went up.
+
+"I'll get the cops here if you make trouble for me an' me men! An' if
+it's trouble you're lookin' for----"
+
+"Oh, run away till the game's over, can't you?" asked another of the
+throng. "Be a sport! What's the good of busting up the fun?"
+
+"An' me losin' money while you fellers play ball, eh? What for would I
+be doin' that? You leave me get to the gates."
+
+"Nothing doing, friend! Better back out!"
+
+"Hold on a minute," said Dick quietly. "Will you wait fifteen minutes,
+Mister--er----"
+
+"Me name's Mullin," growled the contractor. "What'll I be waitin' fer?"
+
+"To give us a chance to see Mr. Brent about it."
+
+"I got me contract, an'----"
+
+"I know," said Dick soothingly. "That's all right. You've got a perfect
+right to come in here and do whatever you've got to do, but it's going
+to put us in an awful mess. Give us time to find Mr. Brent and see what
+he says about it, won't you?"
+
+"How long will it take?"
+
+"Not long. Say fifteen minutes. He's probably here in town. I'll ask his
+son. He's over there in the stand." Dick wasn't at all certain that
+Morris had arrived, but he risked it. The contractor hesitated and
+finally nodded surlily.
+
+"All right. I'll give you till three o'clock. Then I'm goin' in here,
+an' if anyone tries to stop me----"
+
+"I understand. Thank you. Tim, pass the gentleman inside until we settle
+this."
+
+"I'll wait here," said the contractor grimly.
+
+Dick hurried across to the stand and searched for Morris. Presently he
+found him, with Louise at his side, halfway up the slope.
+
+"Is your father in town, Morris?" he asked anxiously after he had
+greeted Louise.
+
+"I don't know. What's wanted, Dick?"
+
+Dick explained hurriedly and Morris whistled. "He may be at his office
+or he may be on his way out to the Point. He doesn't usually stay in
+town on Saturday afternoons in summer. I'll see if I can find him,
+though. Only thing is, it'll take me a long time to hobble over to his
+office."
+
+"I can do it quicker, I guess. Or, hold on! I know! I'll get Gordon to
+go. I'll be back presently."
+
+Dick hurried down to the diamond and summoned Gordon from first base.
+Practice was still going on, but in a desultory way, for most eyes had
+been turned toward the gate. As quickly as he could Dick explained what
+had happened. "He will do it for you if he will for anyone," ended Dick.
+"See if he won't call off the workmen until after the game or until
+Monday, Gordon. Morris says he may be at his office. If he isn't he's
+gone home to the Point. Try the telephone in that case. And try to get
+back here by three. That chap won't wait much longer."
+
+Gordon nodded and sped toward the gate just as the Lesterville team came
+onto the field. He was in his playing clothes, but there was no time to
+change them and he didn't, as a matter of fact, give much thought to
+them. It was five blocks to Mr. Brent's office in the bank building, and
+two of the blocks were long ones. Gordon did the distance in five
+minutes and leaped up the marble stairway to find a clerk just locking
+the outer door of the office.
+
+"Mr. Brent?" he gasped.
+
+"Gone home," replied the clerk, looking curiously at Gordon's attire and
+perspiring countenance. "He left about five minutes ago. You might catch
+him before he gets the trolley."
+
+Gordon raced off again and fortune was with him. Only a block down F
+Street he descried Mr. Brent in front of him walking briskly toward the
+car line and tapping the pavement with his cane. Gordon overtook him
+just over the Main Street crossing. Morris' father turned at the boy's
+breathless hail.
+
+"Ah, that you, Merrick? How do you do! Want to see me?"
+
+"Yes, sir, please!" gasped Gordon. "Mr. Brent, they're trying to get
+into the field, sir, to start work on it this afternoon. And we're
+playing Lesterville and there's a big crowd there, sir----"
+
+"You mean that Mullin is starting work there? Well, that's all right, my
+boy. I told him to."
+
+"Yes, sir, of course, but--but couldn't he wait until Monday, sir? We
+are going to play Lesterville, and they're here and there's a lot of
+folks paid to see the game."
+
+"Oh, that's it, is it? Why, I don't know, Merrick. What does Mullin say?
+It's his affair now. He has the contract for the work, you see."
+
+"He says he won't wait, Mr. Brent. But if you told him to----"
+
+"But really, Merrick, I haven't any right to interfere!"
+
+"It--it's your field, sir! And you said we could use it!"
+
+Mr. Brent frowned. "I said you could use it until I was ready to put the
+street through, Merrick. Wasn't that it?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied Gordon dejectedly. Mr. Brent drew his
+big gold watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped it open, frowned at it
+and snapped it shut again.
+
+"As a matter of fact, Merrick, if the city council hadn't held me up on
+that business you'd have lost your field weeks ago. You ought to be
+thankful for that. We're late on starting that work as it is and I
+prefer not to have any more delay. I'm sorry, but you boys will have to
+play your game somewhere else." He smiled, dropped his watch back to his
+pocket and turned toward the car line.
+
+"There isn't any other place, sir," said Gordon sadly.
+
+"No other place? Why, there must be lots of places! I've seen boys
+playing ball all sorts of places. There's a back-lot behind my offices,
+now. I've seen them playing there day after day--and making a lot of
+noise, too. Come now, Merrick, you're fibbing a little, aren't you?"
+
+"No, sir, really," Gordon answered earnestly. "You can't play a real
+game of baseball on a small lot, sir. I guess--I guess you've never seen
+one, Mr. Brent."
+
+"Seen a game of ball? N-no, I suppose not. I thought all you needed was
+an empty lot or a back-yard, Merrick. You say there isn't any other
+place?"
+
+"No, sir. We're going to lease a piece of ground out toward the Point,
+but we haven't got it yet, and, anyway, it isn't ready for playing on."
+
+"Too bad," said Mr. Brent sympathetically. "But, really, Merrick, you
+ought not to ask me to stop work in order that you can play baseball.
+That--that's a little too much, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so, sir," acknowledged Gordon dejectedly. "Only--we
+thought--maybe a half a day wouldn't make much difference----"
+
+"A half a day might make a lot of difference. Minutes count, my boy.
+You'll learn that some day. No, no, I can't interfere with Mullin. It's
+his job. If he wants to accommodate you, all right, but you mustn't
+expect me to interfere in his affairs, Merrick. Sorry. I'd like to
+oblige you."
+
+Gordon stared at the pavement. Mr. Brent coughed, turned away and
+hesitated. "Well, good-day, Merrick," he said finally.
+
+"Mr. Brent!" Gordon raised his head, his cheeks rather red. "Mr. Brent,
+you said once that--that if I ever wanted a favor--you----"
+
+"Hm; yes, I know I did."
+
+"Well, sir, I'd like awfully to have you do this for us."
+
+"Think that will square accounts, Merrick?"
+
+"Why--why, you don't owe me anything, sir," stammered Gordon, "but you
+said----"
+
+"Yes, and I'll keep my word." Mr. Brent sighed and looked regretfully
+down the street. "All right. Come on, then. I'll walk over with you and
+see what can be done."
+
+"Thank you," Gordon murmured as he fell into step beside the man.
+"It--it's awfully good of you, sir."
+
+"H'm," replied Mr. Brent dryly. "You evidently don't value your service
+to me very highly, Merrick. It doesn't occur to you, apparently, that
+you might ask a good deal more than this in return for what you did for
+Morris."
+
+"I--I never meant to ask for anything," murmured Gordon.
+
+"Hm. More fool you, then!"
+
+There was no more conversation. Mr. Brent walked briskly and it was but
+a minute or two after three when they reached the field. It was evident
+that they had got there none too soon, for the big gates halfway along
+the board fence were open and a wagon with a plow in it was drawn partly
+through it. That it was not all the way through was due to the fact that
+the audience, or a good part of it, had gathered at the point of attack
+and was doing its best to repel the contractor's men. Shouts and jeers
+and laughter came from the scene. At the ticket gate young Tim Turner,
+afraid to leave his post of duty, was peering longingly toward the
+turmoil. Mr. Brent strode more quickly.
+
+"Hm," he said, "I don't see that I was needed much, Merrick."
+
+Mullin, the contractor, very red of face and angry of eye, was berating
+the jeering crowd with the rough side of his tongue. Five laborers, two
+of them clutching the bridles of the horses, looked ready and eager for
+a fight. At sight of Mr. Brent a cheer went up from the crowd inside the
+gates, and Dick, anxious-eyed, fell back from where he had been vainly
+trying to avert trouble. Mr. Brent walked up to the contractor.
+
+"Get out, Mullin," he said. "Leave it until Monday."
+
+Mullin scowled hard. "An' who'll pay me for the time I'll be losin', Mr.
+Brent?" he demanded angrily.
+
+"I will," was the reply. "You ought to have seen, anyway, that the field
+was being used. Get your team out now. I'll settle for your loss."
+
+"That's all right, then," replied the contractor. "All I wants is me
+rights. Back 'em out, Jerry." And amidst the jeers of the spectators
+Mullin and his men retired, the gates were closed again and barred and,
+laughing and jostling, the defenders hurried back to secure their seats
+before others appropriated them, leaving Dick and the ball players and a
+few still curious ones at the gate. Among the latter was Morris, and it
+was Morris who, grinning broadly, came forward on his crutches.
+
+"Good stuff, dad," he said approvingly.
+
+Mr. Brent viewed him without enthusiasm. "You here?" he asked. "Where is
+your sister?"
+
+"In the stand, sir. I----"
+
+"You'd better go back and look after her, it seems to me," said Mr.
+Brent grimly. Morris's grin faded and, with a wink at Gordon, he hobbled
+back toward the seats.
+
+"We're awfully much obliged, sir," said Dick. "If it hadn't been for all
+these people, who had paid to see the game----"
+
+"Of course. I understand. You needn't thank me. Thank Merrick."
+
+The players went back to their places, Lesterville to the diamond to
+finish her warming up, and Clearfield to the bench. Gordon was left
+practically alone with Mr. Brent, even Dick deserting him. From beyond
+the fence came the angry bellow of the contractor's orders. "Leave the
+team here, Jerry," he was saying. "We'll be back Monday, an' I'd like to
+see the man that'll be stoppin' me then!"
+
+"Wouldn't you like to see the game, Mr. Brent, now that you're here?"
+asked Gordon at last. He ought to be with his team-mates, but he didn't
+want to walk away and leave Mr. Brent standing alone there by the gate.
+The latter, who had been looking curiously at the renewed activity of
+the Lesterville players, now glanced at his watch, grunted and nodded.
+
+"I might as well stay awhile," he replied. "Where do you pay?"
+
+"You needn't pay, sir. We're glad to have you see the game."
+
+"I prefer to pay," was the reply as Mr. Brent followed Gordon toward the
+stand. "Here, son!" He had caught sight of Tim Turner at the ticket gate
+and walked across to him. "What's the price?"
+
+"T-Twenty-five cents, sir," stammered Tim.
+
+Mr. Brent found two dimes and a nickel among his change, handed them to
+the awed Tim and went on. "Where's Morris?" he asked. "I'll sit with him
+a few minutes."
+
+Gordon didn't know where Morris was, but he called to Dick and Dick
+pointed him out. Then Gordon piloted Mr. Brent up the stand and by dint
+of much moving and shoving a place was made for him and Gordon,
+muttering his thanks again and getting a non-committal nod from Mr.
+Brent, took himself off.
+
+"I'm so glad, papa," said Louise gratefully. "It would have been horrid
+if they couldn't have played the game, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Would it?" Mr. Brent smiled and settled his cane between his knees.
+"Who are those young fellows out there, Morris?"
+
+"Those are the Lesterville players, sir. They're warming up for the
+game."
+
+"Warming up, eh? Then the game hasn't begun yet?"
+
+"No, sir. They're coming in now, though. It will start in a minute."
+
+"Need all this room for a game of ball, do they?"
+
+"Why, of course, papa," replied Louise. "Sometimes they hit the ball way
+over by the further fence there!"
+
+"That so? Well, let's see 'em do it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MR. BRENT TELEPHONES
+
+
+Perhaps a liking for baseball is latent in every American. Otherwise how
+explain the fact that Mr. Jonathan Brent, who, on his own showing, had
+never witnessed a game before in his life, watched that one with very
+evident interest? It was, of course, quite incomprehensible to him at
+first and both Morris and Louise had to do a lot of patient explaining.
+But by the end of the second inning their father had a very fair notion
+of what was going on, although he still was puzzled by many of the
+incidents. As when a Lesterville player tried to reach second after Will
+Scott had captured a foul behind third base and was thrown out by a
+scant foot. If it was a foul, argued Mr. Brent, that fellow on first
+shouldn't have left his base. No sooner was that explained--by Morris,
+since Louise's knowledge of baseball wasn't sufficient for the
+task--than Tom Haley was unfortunate enough to hit the Lesterville right
+fielder on the elbow. The umpire waved the squirming, dancing batter to
+first and Mr. Brent exclaimed: "Now, what's that for, Morris? He didn't
+hit the ball, did he?"
+
+At the end of the fourth inning, when Clearfield had managed to bat out
+a two run lead, Mr. Brent looked at his watch and announced his
+intention of leaving. "Guess you can finish this without me now," he
+said. "Mother will be wondering where I've gone to."
+
+"No, she won't," replied Louise. "Mama's gone to Mrs. Grey's this
+afternoon. Do stay and see just two more innings, papa."
+
+"Yes, don't leave us now, dad," said Morris. "You never can tell what's
+going to happen in a ball game!"
+
+Mr. Brent frowned, fidgeted and finally leaned back again. "Well," he
+said, "I'll see one more turn for each of 'em."
+
+But at the end of the seventh when, after Lesterville had gone ahead in
+the fifth, Clearfield came back with two doubles and a base on balls and
+evened up the score, Mr. Brent was still there and showed no signs of
+leaving. In fact, although we have only Morris' word for it--Louise
+remaining smilingly reticent on the point--when, in the eighth, with
+three Lesterville players on bases and only one out, Harry Bryan and
+Pete Robey executed a lightning double-play that retired the side
+without a tally, Mr. Brent's voice was to be heard with the others that
+went up in a shout of delight! And even Louise affirmed that, in the
+tenth inning, when Gordon rapped out the single that sent Harry Bryan
+across with the winning run Mr. Brent pounded approvingly with his cane
+and declared that "that Merrick boy was a smart one!"
+
+Ten to nine was the final tally and Dick and Harold Townsend, who had
+sat beside the manager during the entire game and kept a perfectly
+correct score--barring a mistake or two quickly set right by a
+surreptitious glance at Dick's columns--closed their score-books with
+delighted slams. Revenge is sweet, and this had been fairly won.
+
+Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable Harold
+journeyed together by trolley car to the Point and talked the game over
+with a wealth of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry party at
+the Brents' cottage that evening. Mr. Brent pretended to have found the
+game very tiresome and declared that he didn't see any sense in grown-up
+boys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the young folks, and Mrs.
+Brent, too, she having heard of her husband's doings, pretended that
+they believed him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his swim
+in the ocean before, borrowed Morris' suit and went in by moonlight. The
+cottage almost overhung the waves and the others, on the veranda,
+watched him glide in and out of the moon's path and supplied him with a
+lot of doubtless excellent advice on the subject of swimming. Still
+later, with Gordon once more among them, Louise brought out her mandolin
+and they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring Townsend and Caspar
+Billings joined the company and added their voices to the chorus. Then
+they talked some more; of the day's game, of the next Saturday's
+important contest--and the _Reporter's_ latest efforts--of school and a
+dozen other things.
+
+Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield, both comfortably
+tired and sleepy, and Gordon walked home with Dick. It was just before
+they reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise on his
+friend.
+
+"I've been thinking," announced Dick, "that there's one mighty good use
+we can put our money to, Gordie."
+
+"What money?" asked Gordon, with a yawn.
+
+"Why, the money we've made on the games. You see, if we have the crowd
+next week that Potter thinks we'll have we ought to be about two hundred
+and fifty dollars in pocket."
+
+"Easy! Then what?"
+
+"Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a track on the new field.
+How's that for a scheme?"
+
+"Why--er--oh, that's fine!" But Gordon's tone didn't sound terribly
+enthusiastic!
+
+Mr. Potter's prediction came true. By Monday Clearfield was undeniably
+baseball-mad. Even middle-aged and serious-minded merchants discussed
+the probable outcome of the third game between the home team and the
+Pointers when they met each other on the street or when they hobnobbed
+over the Fifty Cent Merchant's Lunch at Martin's Caf�. The younger
+element of the town was wrought up to a fine pitch of excitement. Those
+of its sterner sex who could do so went out to watch the Clearfield team
+practice in the afternoon, while the gentler sex, especially those with
+High School affiliations, became wildly partisan. A dozen or more girls,
+led by Grace Lovering, got together and manufactured a gorgeous pennant
+of purple and white silk, some four feet long, which, when completed,
+was hung behind the silver trophy in Wetherell's window and, like the
+handsome cup, was to be presented to the winner. It was Lanny who made
+the suggestion that the pennant was much too good looking to become the
+property of the Pointers and that it should be a perpetual trophy to be
+played for each year. The girls approved the suggestion and the
+_Reporter_ amended its previous statement regarding the flag. The
+trolley company announced a fare of one-half the usual rate for the
+round-trip on Saturday between Clearfield and near-by towns, and, while
+Mr. Potter failed to prevail on the Mayor to declare a public holiday,
+he did persuade the shop-keepers to agree to close their places of
+business between the hours of two and five. As a matter of fact, with
+few exceptions all of them were glad to do so, for they wanted to see
+that game as much as anyone!
+
+There was usually a crowd in front of Wetherell's jewelry store that
+week. In the front row one found a half-dozen or so of small urchins
+with their noses pressed closely against the plate-glass, while behind
+them stood a scattering of older persons admiring, criticizing and
+audibly reading the engraved inscription which informed the world that
+the cup was to be "Presented by the Retail Merchants of Clearfield to
+the ---- Baseball Club, Winners of the Clearfield Championship,
+September Third, Nineteen Hundred and----." It was a very attractive
+affair, that trophy; twelve inches high, with a fluted base and two
+scrolled handles and a polished ebony stand beneath it. It was generally
+conceded that the merchants had done themselves proud. The _Reporter_
+gave a picture of it and a half-column list of those who had subscribed.
+
+The town was liberally scattered with the red and green posters on
+Monday. They glared and shouted at one from every window. One was not
+allowed to forget for an instant that on the following Saturday
+afternoon the greatest and most important athletic event in the history
+of Clearfield was to be witnessed at the High School Field for the
+ridiculously moderate price of fifty cents--or seventy-five if you
+wanted to be sure of a seat!
+
+All this in spite of the fact that from every indication there would be
+no field to play on!
+
+Mr. Potter was at Dick's at a quarter past seven that morning. He was
+filled with dismay and wrath, and some of the things he said about Mr.
+Jonathan Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-five
+he hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a few minutes before nine he was
+back again, literally frothing at the mouth.
+
+"Say!" he almost shouted in response to Dick's anxious query. "Say! He
+didn't say a thing! He let me talk my head off, that is all he did! I
+told him that public opinion would be against him if he allowed that
+field to be demolished before the game, that Clearfield would be up in
+arms, that the _Reporter_ would deal editorially with the matter and not
+mince its words!" Mr. Potter faltered then.
+
+"What did he say to that?" asked Dick. "He must have said something!"
+
+"He said," replied the newspaper man subduedly, "that he controlled
+three-fifths of the stock of the _Reporter_ and he guessed the paper
+wouldn't be too hard on him!"
+
+Dick grinned. "Does he?"
+
+Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. "Yes, but I'd forgotten it. After that I
+had to--well, I had to tone down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn't be
+possible to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I told him
+about all the advertising that had been done and how everyone was
+looking forward to the game and all that, you know."
+
+"Yes? And he wouldn't agree?"
+
+"He said, 'Young man, get out!' Just that and not another word!"
+
+"Then I guess it's all off," said Dick regretfully. "It's too bad. Of
+course, we might play the game at the Point----"
+
+"We couldn't get the crowd over there. No, sir, it's got to be played
+here. You're certain there isn't another field anywhere?"
+
+"Absolutely certain."
+
+"Then there's just one thing to be done. It's a last resort and it
+doesn't promise well, but I'll try it."
+
+"What?" asked Dick.
+
+Mr. Potter sank his voice. "See the contractor," he said, "and buy him
+off. For a hundred dollars----"
+
+"A hundred dollars!" exclaimed his hearer. "Where'd we get it?"
+
+"Pshaw, we'll clear up two hundred easy if we can pull the game off!"
+
+"Well," replied Dick doubtfully, "but even so I don't believe Mullin
+would dare to do it."
+
+"Supposing, though, his men went on strike?" suggested the other with a
+wink. "He couldn't help himself then, could he?"
+
+"N-no, but--I don't like it, Mr. Potter. It's pretty under-hand, it
+seems to me. After all, we don't _have_ to play that game, and----"
+
+"Don't have to! You bet you have to! Look at that cup! Look at all the
+printing we've done; posters, score-cards, tickets! Look at----" But
+words failed him and he seized his hat from the table. "Here, I've got
+to get busy! That Irishman may be plowing up the field right now! See
+you later, Lovering!"
+
+And Mr. Potter dashed off again.
+
+Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about developments and after
+that Tom Haley wanted information. Dick had no hopeful news to impart,
+however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as Dick was starting for the
+Point--by way of Brentwood--and walked with him as far as the corner of
+A Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and reminded him that three was a
+crowd. Dick had the grace to blush.
+
+"Oh, come on," he said awkwardly. "Don't be a silly chump!"
+
+"Thanks," murmured Gordon sweetly, "but we wouldn't think of intruding.
+Come along, Fudge."
+
+"Wh-wh-what's up?" asked Fudge when Dick had gone on. "Wh-why didn't you
+w-w-want to go along?"
+
+"I can't explain," replied Gordon gently. "You're too young, Fudge, to
+hear such things."
+
+Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to "ch-ch-chase himself!"
+
+Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at Dick because
+he hadn't been able to find him before. "Say, there's something funny
+about this business," he confided, sinking into a chair on the porch and
+mopping his forehead vigorously. "I went over to the field after I left
+you this morning and there wasn't a thing doing. You said Mullin left
+his wagon there, didn't you?" Dick nodded. "Well, it's gone now. I tried
+to get him on the 'phone and his wife said he was out of town. What do
+you make of that?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Mr. Brent thought better of it
+after you left him. You're certain the wagon was gone?"
+
+"Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside. There wasn't a
+scratch there and there wasn't even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now,
+what does that mean? I'd call the old chap up and ask him, only--well,
+frankly, Lovering, I'm afraid I'll lose my job! I suppose you wouldn't
+want to get him on the telephone and ask him about it?"
+
+"I'd a lot rather not," owned Dick. "I guess I'm just about as scared of
+him as you are."
+
+"But he can't hurt you! With me it's different. If he ever tells Stevens
+I went to his office and read the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me a
+ticket and a week's pay!"
+
+"I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to," said Dick after a
+moment's thought. "I'll see if I can find him on the 'phone."
+
+But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gone
+somewhere with Fudge.
+
+"I'll see him at four o'clock," said Dick. "I told the fellows we'd meet
+at the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don't see
+why--Excuse me a minute, will you?"
+
+The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches again and once more
+swung himself into the house.
+
+"This you, Dick?" asked the voice at the other end of the line. "This is
+Morris. Say, Dick, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago.
+He telephoned from the office. 'You can tell that Merrick boy,' says he,
+'that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see me
+Wednesday. I'm going to Hartford at three and I'll be back Wednesday
+noon.' That's great, isn't it?"
+
+"Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Saturday,
+Morris?"
+
+"Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn't it? And his wanting to see Gordon
+makes it look that way, too. I've been trying to find Gordon, but his
+mother says he's out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me up
+here at the Point, Dick."
+
+"I will. That's bully news, Morris, and your father's a brick! I've just
+been talking with Mr. Potter. He's all het up about it," laughed Dick.
+"He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I'll tell
+Gordon when I see him about four."
+
+Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted by
+Mr. Potter's eager and questioning countenance.
+
+"I couldn't help hearing what you said," he exclaimed. "Has he come
+around?"
+
+"I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on and
+use the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He's
+going to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it's all right."
+
+Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. "Well, I hope so. I want to put
+this thing through now that I've started, Lovering. I'll breathe easier,
+though, when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again about
+Wednesday we'll be in a worse pickle than ever!"
+
+"I don't think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he's concluded to let us use
+the field. If he hadn't Mullin would be at work this minute. If I were
+you, though, I'd hear what Mullin says."
+
+"I will, just as soon as he gets home." Mr. Potter looked at his watch
+and jumped to his feet. "I must be off. Say, that's a load off my mind,
+all right! Now I'll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. He
+wants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that's fair enough. By the
+way, can you let me have your batting-list to-morrow? We want to print
+those score-cards about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything more
+call me up at the office. If I'm not there they'll take a message. Bye!"
+
+"I wonder," mused Gordon when Dick met him at practice an hour later,
+"what he wants to see me about."
+
+"Well, it's about the field, I suppose," said Dick. "Don't look so
+frightened, Gordie. He won't eat you!"
+
+Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully. "I know, but that man
+scares me to death. I don't know why, either. He's always been as nice
+as pie to me. I guess it's his eyes. They sort of go right through you
+and come out the other side!"
+
+There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon and the
+Clearfield Baseball Club performed to enthusiastic applause. Dick had
+sought to arrange a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no team
+that could or would play them, which was a matter of regret since
+Clearfield needed harder practice than it could get without an opponent.
+Rutter's Point, which had been playing two games a week steadily, was to
+meet Logan on Wednesday at the Point.
+
+"I wish we had got them," said Dick. "They'd give us just about the sort
+of a game we need."
+
+"Maybe," suggested Jack Tappen, "they'd swap dates with us if we asked
+them. They won't get any money at the Point, you know."
+
+"Yes, they will," piped up Harold, who had come over to watch practice
+at Dick's invitation. "They pass a hat around and sometimes get ten or
+twelve dollars."
+
+"Anyway, I don't care to do a thing like that," said Dick. "It wouldn't
+be exactly square, I guess."
+
+"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Harold.
+
+"Go ahead," said Jack. "You're full of information, kid."
+
+"Well," said Harold, pausing long enough to regard Jack with a look of
+disdain, "why don't you play them in the morning?"
+
+"By jove!" said Lanny.
+
+"'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!'" murmured Jack. "Kid,
+you're all right!"
+
+"We might," pondered Dick. "They're coming over anyway, and I dare say
+they'd just as lief come in the morning as later. I'll get hold of that
+captain of theirs this evening and see what he says."
+
+"Tell 'em we'll pay their fares both ways," suggested Will Scott.
+
+"Sure thing; and buy them a lunch," agreed Way.
+
+"They'll do it," said Gordon. "Make the game at ten-thirty, Dick."
+
+"Better say eleven. They could hardly get over here before half-past
+ten. Well, I'll get after them as soon as I get home. Harold, you are a
+youth of ideas!"
+
+And Harold smiled proudly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS
+
+
+That was just about the busiest week for Dick that he ever remembered
+spending. In the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter to be seen and
+Mr. Potter's newest schemes to be considered. And, after that, for
+nearly three hours, he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter's
+room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley slaves. All the
+hard work wasn't the younger boy's, either, for Dick had to do a lot of
+studying in order to maintain with dignity his r�le of teacher. It would
+never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him napping! The younger
+boy's capacity for study was a revelation to Dick, and his progress a
+source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week Dick could,
+and did, assure himself that the battle was won! That unless Harold had
+an almost total lapse of memory when he was put through examinations he
+could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course cramming is not the best
+means of learning, and much of what Harold learned that summer he was
+bound to forget later, but Dick hoped that the forgetting would not come
+until he had passed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and
+relief when Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in
+what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her
+gratitude, or the expression of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.
+
+After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one
+o'clock Dick had two hours to himself. Or he had unless the
+indefatigable Mr. Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce
+progress or to present a problem to be solved. At four there was
+practice at the field. In the evenings Dick very often had to go over
+the next day's lessons, a task more often than not interrupted by the
+visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all three. Tuesday
+evening not only that trio but Morris Brent as well descended upon him.
+Morris had at last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost
+imperceptible limp. The doctor assured him that the limp would leave him
+in a week or so, and Morris, an ardent football enthusiast, was already
+talking punts and drop-kicks.
+
+Since Logan had readily consented to play a game with Clearfield at
+eleven o'clock the next morning, and since Dick's services would be
+needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been
+postponed until Wednesday evening. Dick hadn't the heart to ask Harold
+to give up seeing Logan and Rutter's Point play in the afternoon. And so
+when the visitors announced their presence that evening by a series of
+loud whistles from the gate Dick closed his books regretfully, knowing
+that he would have to sit up very late after his callers had gone.
+
+They sat out on the porch and talked of many things while the crickets
+and katydids chirped and fiddled in the darkness. It had been decided
+that Tom was to pitch only three innings of the morning's game and that
+Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep Tom fresh for the big
+game on Saturday. To equalize matters, Logan was to pitch her third
+baseman against Clearfield so that she might save her regular box artist
+for the afternoon contest. They discussed this and other features of the
+morrow's battle, and then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted
+to the Saturday's event. Fudge was filled with excitement these days and
+stuttered like an empty soda fountain whenever the subject was broached.
+
+"Jordan and Fillmore's window is f-f-f-full of flags and p-p-pennants,"
+announced Fudge. "It looks s-s-s-swell!"
+
+"It's sort of one-sided, though," said Lanny. "They ought to put up some
+Point flags too."
+
+"I don't suppose there are any," answered Gordon. "They haven't any
+regular color over there, have they?"
+
+"Sure; blue and yellow. It's a funny combination, but some of the girls
+out at the Point have made some flags and they say they look mighty
+well."
+
+"Mr. Potter told me to-day," remarked Dick, "that he's hired four kids
+to sell flags at the field. He got Jordan and Fillmore to make up two
+hundred of them for him. He can certainly think of more things to do!"
+
+"Those are probably the flags they have in their window," suggested
+Lanny. "What are they like, Fudge?"
+
+"J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have just a C instead of
+C. H. S. on them. They're s-s-swell!"
+
+"You told us that before," said Gordon. "I guess Potter will be stuck
+with about a hundred and fifty of his two hundred."
+
+"I don't believe he will. Say, why didn't we think of doing that,
+fellows? We might have made a lot of money." And Lanny looked almost
+accusingly at Dick.
+
+"I don't see that we need any more money," replied the manager. "We'll
+have so much as it is that we'll have to open a bank account. I'm scared
+to death to have it in the house."
+
+"How much have we got now?" asked Lanny.
+
+"Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell you my scheme for
+using it, Lanny?"
+
+"Yes," was the unenthusiastic reply. "But I don't believe----"
+
+"It's a dandy scheme," interrupted Gordon quickly. "We--we'll talk it
+over some day, after this game's over with. No use trying to think of
+anything else right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile
+book any?"
+
+"No, I haven't had a minute's time. No hurry, is there? I've about
+decided to wait another month or so and get one of the next year's
+models. I've already got almost two dollars laid by toward it."
+
+"Well, don't buy a cheap car," laughed Lanny. "Get--get one like
+Morris's."
+
+The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by Morris. "Yes, but don't
+break a leg with it," he exclaimed. Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed
+loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness of the porch
+with a puzzled look on his face. He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a
+kick at Lanny's shin and, judging from Lanny's pained contortions
+immediately afterward, Dick fancied that Gordon's aim had been true. For
+over a week now Dick had been aware that some project was under way by
+the others that he was purposely excluded from. What it was he couldn't
+imagine, but that it had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More
+than once he had seen warning glances sent from one fellow to another
+and quite often a remark had been cut short at his approach. That the
+mystery concerned him particularly Dick did not suspect, however. And
+just now he had too many things on his mind to allow of much
+consideration of it.
+
+"You really ought to read that book, though," said Gordon. "Oughtn't he,
+Morris?"
+
+Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, "You really ought, Dick!"
+and Lanny murmured something about it being well to know such things.
+
+"Look here," exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half in earnest, "if you
+fellows don't quit nagging me to read that book I'll--I'll pitch it out
+the window! What the dickens do I want to learn about running an
+automobile for? Are you fellows dippy?"
+
+There was complete silence until Lanny said: "You never can tell, Dick,
+when you might be called on to--to profit by the--er----"
+
+"Oh, certainly," responded Dick with sarcasm. "Most any old day I might
+get the offer of a chauffeur's job! Or maybe you fellows are going to
+save up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!"
+
+"Ha, ha!" said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled. Gordon had a fit of
+coughing. Morris became intensely interested in the stars seen through
+the vines.
+
+"You'd make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick," laughed Gordon finally.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why--er--just because," replied Gordon flatly. "Say, I've got to be
+going home, fellows. You coming my way?"
+
+The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm for departure,
+and after they had clicked the little gate behind them Dick could hear
+them talking in low and excited tones as they passed up the street. He
+shook his head as he moved his crutches toward the doorway.
+
+"Either they're all crazy," he murmured, "or they're trying to work some
+sort of a game on me. I wonder what it is."
+
+But he didn't wonder long, for the morrow's lessons awaited him upstairs
+and when he had finished with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder
+about anything.
+
+Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the next forenoon. The
+visitors arrived nearly twenty minutes late and the game dragged. There
+was a lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to make more errors
+than its opponent. Curtis Wayland and the rival pitcher were pretty
+evenly matched and it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her
+endeavors, failed to tally as many errors as Logan that the home team
+stood three runs ahead when the contest was called to allow the visitors
+to snatch some dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn't
+derive much satisfaction from that game, and was inclined to be downcast
+until, just before supper time, Harold telephoned over to him that the
+Point team had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered up and saw
+things more brightly. And then, scarcely two minutes later, came Gordon
+with his news.
+
+"We've got the field, Dick!" he cried from the sidewalk even before he
+reached the gate. "Mr. Brent is going to give it to the school! It isn't
+going to be cut up!"
+
+"Give it to the school!" echoed Dick amazedly.
+
+"Yes! Isn't that fine and dandy?" Gordon sprawled into a chair on the
+porch and fanned himself vigorously with his straw hat. "He's having a
+deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes back it will be
+ours. Morris is giving it."
+
+"Morris! How can he give it?"
+
+"Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris's name. It's to be called
+Brent Field. And he almost as much as promised to build us a big new
+grandstand some day! Isn't he--isn't he a corker?"
+
+"But--but what--how----"
+
+Gordon laughed excitedly. "I guess it was seeing us play the other day
+that did it. He said he guessed as we got so much enjoyment out of the
+field we ought to have it. He didn't get home until nearly half-past
+four and I called at the office three times before I found him. I
+thought the first time that I'd sneak off and not come back. But I'm
+glad I did, though. I was scared to death when I went in. But he was as
+nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball and football and
+the Athletic Committee and the field we talked of getting, and
+then--then--well, then he asked me if I thought the fellows would like
+to keep the field. And I said of course they would. And then he said he
+had decided to make the school a present of it if--if I wanted him to."
+
+"If you wanted him to!" exclaimed his hearer.
+
+Gordon nodded. "You know he told me the time I--the time I was with
+Morris when he got hurt that if I wanted anything I was to ask him for
+it. So the other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field I--I
+sort of reminded him of what he had said and told him I'd like him to
+let us use the field that day. I didn't tell you, but that was how we
+got it. Well, to-day he said I hadn't made the most of my opportunity,
+or something like that. He said I should have asked for the field
+outright if I wanted it. 'Why didn't you?' he asked. Gee, I didn't know
+what to say, so I just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said
+how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did for Morris that day
+and that if I'd asked him then for the field he'd have given it to me; I
+mean to the school. So I said, 'Yes, sir, if you please,' and he laughed
+and said: 'All right, Merrick. I'll have the deed made out to-morrow.
+But I want you to understand that it is Morris who is giving the field
+and not me. He's one of you and the gift will come better from him.' And
+then he shook hands with me and walked 'way out to the stairs with me!
+And--and say, Dick, isn't it _great_?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+MR. BRENT THROWS A BALL
+
+
+If that Saturday had been manufactured to Mr. Potter's order it couldn't
+have been finer. There was a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud
+bigger than a handkerchief to be seen. A westerly breeze, bearing the
+first hint of Autumn, cooled the ardor of the sun. Clearfield had a gala
+look as soon as the shades at the store windows were drawn in the
+morning. Touches of purple appeared everywhere. By ten o'clock the
+downtown streets began to show the incursion of visitors from the
+neighboring villages and even from the country and the stores reaped a
+small harvest. At noon Common Street in the vicinity of the field was
+well lined with sidewalk vendors of peanuts and popcorn, lemonade and
+soft drinks, while in a vacant lot near-by a hustling gentleman with a
+blue-black mustache and a yellow corduroy coat had set up a
+merry-go-round whose strident organ ground out a repertory of four tunes
+monotonously from forenoon to midnight. Small boys with purple pennants
+bearing white C's importuned passers to show their patriotism at the
+expense of a quarter of a dollar and other small boys flaunted copies of
+the morning _Reporter_. "Line-up of to-day's game! Here you are!
+_Reporter!_ Only two cents!"
+
+The reserved seat tickets on sale at Howland's gave out at eleven
+o'clock, and at twelve, after a hasty conference over the telephone with
+Dick, Mr. Potter had a load of lumber and four carpenters at the field
+erecting sixty extra seats.
+
+At one, even before the last nail had been driven, the drug store
+reported that they had again sold out. "Sell fifty more," telephoned Mr.
+Potter, "and mark them 'Bench!'" Then he hurried to Odd Fellows' Hall
+with a moving-van and transferred ten settees from there to the ball
+grounds and placed them in a double row all along the third base line.
+After that he threw up his hands.
+
+Shortly before noon a blue runabout, with its brass glistening radiantly
+and its newly varnished surface reflecting back the sunlight, stopped in
+front of the carriage gate at the field and honked its horn. After which
+Gordon, who rode beside the operator, jumped to the ground, climbed the
+fence and unbarred the gates from inside. Then Morris drove in, Gordon
+dropped the bar back in place and climbed into the car again and the
+blue runabout ambled across the white foul line and stopped a few feet
+from the home plate, with its glistening radiator pointed at the
+grandstand.
+
+"That's my last ride in her," said Morris regretfully as he got out.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Gordon. "He may give you a lift some time."
+
+Morris smiled. "I meant the last time I'd run her," he amended. "Gee,
+but I kind of hate to give her up, Gordon."
+
+"She's a nice little car," replied the other, "even if she did try to
+break your neck for you. And she certainly looks dandy. And she runs as
+well as ever, doesn't she?"
+
+"Better, it seems to me. I suppose she's getting the stiffness out of
+her. Well, we'd better hike along to dinner. You're sure your mother
+won't mind having me, Gordon?"
+
+"She expects you. I telephoned I was bringing you. Come on."
+
+It was long before two o'clock when the crowd began moving toward the
+field. Stewart, the liveryman, ran carriages from the station to the
+entrance and did a good business. At a few minutes before two Gordon and
+Dick and Lanny arrived. Mr. Potter was already on hand, instructing the
+two boys who were acting as ushers and keeping an eye on the amateur
+ticket seller at the gate. Tim Turner stood inside and took the tickets,
+dropping them into a tin box and looking as professional as you please.
+Dick's gaze found the automobile the instant he was inside and he
+stopped short and stared at it. And no wonder, for a blue runabout
+placed imposingly in the center of a baseball diamond is about as
+incongruous a sight as one often sees.
+
+"Wh-what the dickens!" gasped Dick.
+
+"Oh, that?" said Gordon. "That's the car that Morris just sold. Looks
+pretty well, doesn't it? Come on in the dressing-room."
+
+"But what's it doing there?" asked Dick. "Whose is it?"
+
+"I suppose someone left it there. Gee, Dick, look at the crowd here
+already! We'll have to have groundrules if they keep coming!"
+
+"Yes, I guess so. But--that car! It can't stand there, Gordie!"
+
+"Of course not. It'll be out of the way by the time we're ready to
+practice, I dare say. There's Tom. Come on. We'd better get changed. It
+must be almost two."
+
+Dick followed them into the dressing-room without further remarks, but
+it was plain to be seen that the incident of the misplaced automobile
+was occupying his thoughts. Most of the team had arrived and in another
+moment Dick found enough to attend to and talk about without further
+bothering his head with the blue runabout. The Point team came in a few
+minutes later and then there was a fine confusion and noise in there.
+Everyone was in the best of spirits and there was no sign of animosity
+between the opponents. One might have thought, were it not for the
+difference in costumes, that the two dozen or so fellows were team-mates
+rather than rivals. It was the first time that most of the Clearfield
+fellows had seen the Rutter's Point players in their new togs, and they
+had to acknowledge that the white suits and blue-and-yellow-striped
+stockings were very attractive.
+
+Of course Harold was there, score-book under arm, following Dick around
+closely. And Morris, too, in his capacity of honorary member of the
+visiting nine. Probably he would have been welcome in any case, for
+to-day was to witness the formal transfer of the field, in Morris's
+name, from Mr. Brent to the High School. Mr. Grayson, who had arrived
+home the day before, was to attend and Morris was to deliver the deed to
+him, as a sort of added attraction. Morris, however, didn't appear
+oppressed by his importance, a fact which his companions were quick to
+notice and approve.
+
+At five minutes past the two teams went out to the diamond, and as they
+appeared, the band, massed fourteen strong in front of the grandstand,
+broke into the triumphal strains of "See the Conquering Hero Comes." By
+that time the stand was filled to overflowing, the extra seats were well
+occupied and the settees sprinkled, while around the diamond what looked
+to the startled gaze of the players to be a vast assemblage sat or
+stood.
+
+"Jumpin' Jupiter!" muttered Fudge, his eyes very big and round.
+"S-s-s-say, Jack, I won't b-b-b-be able to c-c-catch a thing!"
+
+"I guess we'll all have stage-fright," replied Jack Tappen, with a
+rather nervous laugh. "Who would have thought all this crowd would have
+come? And look at the gate! They're still coming, Fudge!"
+
+"G-g-guess I'll s-s-s-sneak home," said Fudge.
+
+Dick was frankly puzzled. Instead of trotting into the field to begin
+practice, his charges were lounging over toward the plate, and with them
+went the Point team. Then Dick's eyes fell on that blue runabout again,
+and he frowned and followed the players, who by this time had gathered
+about it. Harold, who never allowed Dick to get more than six feet away
+from him, went, too.
+
+"Someone will have to get that car out of here," announced Dick
+impatiently. "Whose is it, anyway?"
+
+As the band, which had been blaring forth a twostep, stopped suddenly at
+a signal from Gordon, just in the middle of Dick's pronouncement, he
+finished it in a voice which, owing to the silence, was audible halfway
+to the outfield. A ripple of amusement came from the nearer seats. Dick,
+embarrassed by events and by an impending something that he sensed,
+looked blankly about the grinning faces.
+
+"Wh-what's the matter?" he faltered, appealing to Gordon.
+
+Gordon cleared his throat and took a step forward. The rest of the
+players shuffled into the semblance of a half-circle behind him and
+about the blue car. The audience, none of them in the secret but all
+suspecting interesting developments, grew very still.
+
+"Dick," began Gordon, very red of countenance and nervous of manner,
+"we--that is----"
+
+"Go to it, Gordie," murmured Lanny encouragingly. Gordon took a deep
+breath and another start:
+
+"The Clearfield Baseball Club, in recognition of your services as
+manager and--and in token of its esteem and----"
+
+"Respect and esteem," prompted Lanny, _sotto voce_.
+
+----"Respect and esteem," corrected Gordon, who had prepared his speech
+with much care and had now pretty well forgotten it, "desires to present
+to you this automobile, in the hope--er--in the hope----"
+
+"That it will provide----"
+
+"----That it will provide both comfort and pleasure. It is with much--it
+is with much----"
+
+Gordon looked imploringly at Lanny, but Lanny's gaze was fixed blankly
+on space. He, too, had forgotten the lines! Fudge gave way to his
+nervousness and giggled. Gordon waved his hand toward the car. "And we
+hope you'll like it," he ended breathlessly.
+
+There was an instant's silence, and then came a joyous screech from
+Harold. That was the signal for much hand-clapping and other evidences
+of applause from the spectators who, although Gordon's speech had not
+been audible to them, had by this time gathered that someone was being
+presented with the natty blue automobile. Dick, rather white of face,
+smiled.
+
+"I--I----" he began. Then he faltered. When he went on his voice was
+husky. "Thank you, fellows," he said. "I don't see why you did it,
+but--but I appreciate it more than I can say. And--I can't make a
+speech, so I'll just say thank you and--you'll have to understand that
+it means a lot more than I can put in words!"
+
+Then they cheered quite madly, being heartily glad to be over with the
+embarrassment, and flocked around him and shook hands just as though
+they hadn't seen him for months!
+
+"'It is with much pride that we offer this small token,'" said Lanny
+explosively in Gordon's ear. Gordon laughed derisively.
+
+"What's the good now?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say that two minutes
+ago? You're a fine one to help a fellow!"
+
+"Why didn't you remember it yourself?" asked Lanny, in an injured voice.
+"Gee! You wrote it, didn't you?"
+
+Morris jumped into the driver's seat of the car and Dick, impelled by
+friendly hands, climbed in beside him. Will Scott spun the crank, the
+engine purred, and, to the cheers and laughter of the fellows and the
+enthusiastic applause of the spectators, the blue runabout chugged
+around the field and back into an angle of the grandstand, while the
+band played loudly.
+
+"I'll show you how to run it in two days, Dick," Morris said, as they
+circled the diamond. "You'll find it's as easy as anything you ever
+did."
+
+"Did you know about it?" asked Dick curiously.
+
+"Sure. It was Gordon's scheme; but he told me what he wanted to do and
+dad and I were strong for it."
+
+"But--but where'd they get the money?" asked Dick.
+
+"They haven't got it yet," chuckled Morris. "You have it!"
+
+"I have----Oh, the baseball money!"
+
+"Surest think you know, Dick!"
+
+"Oh!" Dick gave a sigh of relief. "I was afraid they'd paid for it out
+of their pockets or--or somehow. I--I knew for two or three weeks that
+they were up to something, but I never suspected this. Say, doesn't it
+just get there!"
+
+"She's a fine little car," agreed Morris proudly, as he brought it to a
+stop behind the extra seats. "And I'll just bet you'll be crazy about
+her, Dick, in a week!"
+
+"I guess I'm sort of crazy about her now," murmured Dick.
+
+There was still another ceremony to be gone through with; in fact, two.
+The first was performed a minute later when Morris, taking a folded
+sheet of paper from his pocket, walked across to the front of the
+grandstand, accompanied by the players, and with a neat but brief speech
+formally presented the deed of the athletic field to Mr. Grayson. The
+principal, however, wasn't going to miss the opportunity to indulge in
+eloquence, and his speech of thanks went on for quite five minutes. It
+was a very good speech, too, but few heard it, for the spectators out of
+ear-shot were clamoring for the game to begin. When he had finished and
+bowed and taken his seat again, there was more applause, and the bass
+drum boomed ecstatically and Gordon led three cheers for Mr. Brent, and
+at last the home team trotted on to the diamond and the visitors began
+passing and warming up at one side.
+
+By that time it was nearly the hour set for the game to begin, and
+almost every available spot on the field was occupied by spectators.
+Four of Clearfield's modest police force were on duty in the outfield,
+patrolling back and forth, restraining the advance of the crowds which
+stretched along the continuations of the foul lines.
+
+On the "press stand," a kitchen table and two straight-backed chairs at
+the end of the home team's bench, stood the silver trophy on its ebony
+stand. Around the base was twined the purple silk pennant with the white
+"C." At the "press stand" sat Mr. Potter, his straw hat tilted back on
+his head, a pile of yellow copy paper in front of him and a big cigar
+tucked in the corner of his mouth. Mr. Potter, looking proudly about the
+crowded field, was happy. Apparently all the pennants had been
+purchased, for they waved on all sides, and flashes of purple glowed
+everywhere in the sunlight; everywhere, that is to say, except in one
+small section of the main stand, where the Rutter's Point contingent,
+some fifty strong, waved blue-and-yellow flags and cheered for their
+heroes.
+
+Dick, leaning on his crutches near first base, allowed his gaze to
+wander a minute from the work of his charges toward the crowded seats.
+There were his mother and Grace up there, and, farther along, Mr. and
+Mrs. Brent and Louise--and Morris just returning to his place beside
+them. Strangely enough, Louise happened to be looking just as Dick
+glanced her way, and nodded and waved. Dick took off his hat in answer.
+A second later he was bowing again, for Mrs. Townsend was waving her
+blue-and-yellow banner toward him.
+
+Then, presently, the home team yielded the diamond to the visitors, and
+Dick went back to the bench with them. Harold was sharpening his pencils
+as Dick took his place beside him.
+
+"Dick," he said, in a low voice, "I hope you win."
+
+"Thanks, Harold! That's treachery, isn't it, though?"
+
+Harold frowned and shook his head. "Can't help it," he muttered. "I do,
+anyway."
+
+The umpires were Mr. Cochran, of the Y.M.C.A., chosen by Clearfield, and
+Mr. Vokes, who had officiated at the first game between the two teams,
+the Point's selection. The latter gentleman was on bases and Mr. Cochran
+umpired at the plate. At twenty minutes to three Clearfield trotted into
+the field to the cheers of the audience, and Gordon, taking a nice new
+ball from Mr. Cochran, ascended the stand to where Mr. Brent sat.
+
+"Mr. Brent," said Gordon, "we'd like very much to have you throw out the
+ball to us, sir, if you don't mind."
+
+"Throw out the ball!" exclaimed Mr. Brent. "How--how do I do it?"
+
+"Just stand up, sir, and toss it to Tom Haley, down there."
+
+Mr. Brent looked doubtful, but Morris and Louise urged him on, and
+finally he got to his feet, measured the distance anxiously, clutched
+the ball with a death-like grip, and hurled it toward Tom. It went a
+yard over his head, and was fielded by Harry Bryan near second! But that
+didn't matter! Everyone cheered just as hard!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+DICK SMILES
+
+
+                   CLEARFIELD          RUTTER'S POINT
+
+                   Bryan, 2b.          Billings, 3b.
+                   Scott, 3b.          Townsend, 1b.
+                   Merrick, 1b.        Chase, ss.
+                   Wayland, l. f.      House, c. f.
+                   Tappen, r. f.       Leary, 2b.
+                   White, c.           Northrop, r. f.
+                   Robey, ss.          Jensen, l. f.
+                   Haley, p.           Houghton, c.
+                   Shaw, c. f.         Mason, p.
+
+Gordon took his position off first base, thumped fist into glove, and
+called cheerfully across to Tom Haley:
+
+"First man, Tom! Let's have him!"
+
+But Gordon wasn't nearly as cool and collected as he tried to seem. He
+was conscious of the crowd, and especially of the throng that stretched
+four and five deep along the base line but a half dozen yards away. The
+noise, too, was disconcerting. He didn't mind the bellowing of Jim House
+back of first, nor the answering shrieks of Pink Northrop behind third;
+but the steady hum and stir of the crowd gave him what was very much
+like stage fright. He almost hoped that the first hit would not come
+into his territory, for he was virtually sure that he would misplay it.
+But Gordon wasn't the only one suffering from nervous embarrassment. Tom
+was as wild as a hawk, and if the batsmen had not been up in the air as
+well Rutter's Point might have won the game then and there!
+
+Dick, none too self-possessed himself, in spite of the fact that on the
+bench he was practically out of the public gaze, saw that in the
+outfield Way, Jack, and Fudge were each moving restlessly about, and he
+mentally hoped that there would be no long flies for a few minutes! The
+only one of the home team who seemed absolutely self-possessed and
+unconcerned was Lanny. Lanny, behind his mask and protector, gave his
+signals calmly, and called to Tom coolly and encouragingly, holding his
+hands over the center of the plate and inviting Tom to "put it right
+here!" And Tom tried his best to follow signals, and failed lamentably.
+
+Caspar Billings went to base on balls, and Gordon took the bag. Tom
+tried one throw across, and Gordon, to his relief, caught the ball.
+While Tom had been in the act of swinging around and stepping out,
+Gordon had been sure that the ball would get by him. Caspar was playing
+it safe, however, and after Gordon threw the sphere back to Tom the
+latter gave his attention to the next batsman, Loring Townsend. Loring,
+with one strike and two balls against him, reached for a low one and
+sent it up in the air to Pete Robey. Pete caught it, juggled it, dropped
+it, and then sped it to second. Caspar, who had stopped halfway down the
+base line, turned back to the bench.
+
+With one out, Tom settled down a little. Loring Townsend stole on the
+second delivery and beat out the throw. The Point clamored for a hit,
+but the best Gil Chase could do was to trickle a slow bunt to Tom, who
+threw out the runner at first.
+
+"Two gone!" called Gordon. "Let him hit, Tom!"
+
+But Tom did the hitting himself, bumping Jim House on the elbow with his
+first ball. Jim trotted to first, and Leary came to bat. Leary ought to
+have been easy, but he landed on the very first offering and sent a fly
+into short left field. Way started with the ball and got it after a hard
+run, and the inning was over.
+
+"We got out of that mighty luckily," muttered Gordon, as he took his
+seat beside Dick. "I guess we've all got nerves."
+
+"Well, so have the others," replied Dick. "Try to get rid of yours
+first, Gordie."
+
+Harry Bryan waited and got his base. Will Scott, instructed to bunt and
+sacrifice, fouled two attempts, and finally went out on strikes. Gordon
+brought the stands to their feet by a bunt along first-base line which
+started well but eventually rolled into foul territory under the anxious
+gaze of Mason and Townsend. Then came a swipe that missed the ball by
+inches, then two balls, and last, with two and two, a straight one that
+Gordon liked the looks of. He found it, all right, but it dropped into
+center-fielder's hands, and, with two down, Bryan was still anchored on
+first. A minute later he tried a steal, and was caught a yard away.
+
+In the second Tom pitched better, and Northrop and Jensen fanned.
+Houghton, the Point catcher, got a scratch hit, and reached the first
+bag but died there when Mason struck out.
+
+Clearfield did no better in her half, Wayland, Tappen, and Lanny White
+going out in order, and only Jack getting a rap at the ball.
+
+It was not until the fourth inning that things began to happen. Leary
+started the Point's half with a sharp tap between Pete and Harry that
+put him safely on first. Then, with the Point coachers yelling like mad
+and dancing like a couple of dervishes, Tom passed Pink Northrop. With
+the three tail-enders coming up there seemed no cause for alarm. But
+Jensen laid down a nice bunt right in front of the plate, and Lanny,
+tossing aside his mask, picked it up and hurled it to third.
+Unfortunately, Will Scott had started in toward the plate, and the ball
+got to third ahead of him. By the time Way had recovered it, Leary had
+scored, Northrop was on second, and Jensen on first. The Pointers went
+wild with delight, and the blue-and-yellow flags waved in the
+grandstand. Houghton, aching for a hit, was over-anxious, and fell a
+victim to the wiles of Lanny and Tom, and there was one out. Pitcher
+Mason was no more of a batsman than the average twirler, and yet he
+managed to make it two and three before he finally put an end to the
+suspense and the inning by hitting to Harry Bryan, who tagged Jensen as
+he went past and then threw to Gordon, completing the double.
+
+For the next two innings it looked very much as though that one run
+would be enough to win the game, for Mason settled down and pitched
+air-tight ball and added four more strike-outs to his credit. Tom Haley
+was less spectacular, and yet got by without yielding a hit. He passed
+two batters and in the sixth Jensen got as far as third when Pete Robey
+fumbled Houghton's liner. But there were no runs scored, and at the
+beginning of the seventh the score still stood 1 to 0 in the visitors'
+favor, and Clearfield already tasted defeat. But the audience shouted
+that here was the "lucky seventh," and those fortunate to have seats
+stood up and stretched cramped limbs, and everyone shouted.
+
+In the first half of the seventh the clouds began to gather again over
+Clearfield's head. Caspar Billings, first man up, beat out a weak hit
+and took second when Townsend sacrificed, Scott to Merrick. A moment
+later he reached third when Chase flied out to right field. Then House
+provided a half dozen attacks of heart disease when, with three balls
+and two strikes on him, he knocked fouls to nearly every point of the
+compass in his endeavor to secure a safe hit and score Caspar. But in
+the end Tom tricked him into a high fly that settled comfortably into
+Pete Robey's glove, and again the sky cleared.
+
+"If those boys don't win a run this time," said Mr. Brent, almost
+crossly, "I'll be sorry I gave them the field."
+
+"You mean, dad, you'll be sorry _I_ gave them the field," corrected
+Morris, with a grin. Mr. Brent grunted.
+
+"Why don't they bat the ball?" he demanded. "Every time one of them gets
+on a base, the others leave him there. What they ought to do is to take
+a good bang at it and send it out there beyond those fellows."
+
+"That's what they're trying to do, papa," replied Louise, "but the Point
+pitcher won't let them. He's a wonderful pitcher, isn't he, Morris?"
+
+"Pretty fair. He'll get his before the game's over, though. See if he
+doesn't."
+
+"Get his what?" asked his father curiously.
+
+"Get what's coming to him," laughed Morris. "I mean the Clearfield chaps
+will bat him. He can't keep this pace up much longer. I wouldn't be
+surprised if we got after him this inning."
+
+"Oh, I wish we might!" sighed Louise. "I wish they'd just--just _slam_
+him!"
+
+"My dear!" murmured Mrs. Brent. "That doesn't sound very nice."
+
+"It's all right, mama; it's just baseball talk."
+
+"Even so, dear, I'm not certain," replied her mother, "that----"
+
+But Louise didn't hear the rest, for she was waving her purple pennant
+wildly and shrieking in a manner that Mrs. Brent must have disapproved
+of thoroughly. But she had a good excuse. Even Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+tapping his cane and breathing hard, while Morris was frankly on his
+feet, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+Jack, the first Clearfield batsman, had landed on the second ball
+pitched, and now it was rolling along the grass between right fielder
+and center, and Jack was traveling fast for second base. He drew up
+there, breathless but happy. From the stands and from the crowds along
+the edges of the diamond came shouts and cheers. At last, Clearfield was
+to tie the score!
+
+And yet even with a runner on second and only a hit necessary to bring
+in a tally, it began to look as if once more the hopes of Clearfield's
+supporters were doomed. Lanny, determined and cool, after waiting until
+he had three balls to his credit and no strikes, tried to drop out of
+the way of a close one, only to have it hit his bat and roll fair! Mason
+fielded it to first, and there was one out. The incessant shouting from
+the spectators died away and Gordon, coaching at first, swung on his
+heel and kicked viciously at a pebble to relieve his feelings. Then,
+with Pete Robey up, there came an exchange of signals, and Jack started
+for third as the ball left Mason's hand for the second time. It was an
+unexpected play, and it succeeded. Pete swung and missed and Houghton
+side-stepped and hurled to third. But Jack, who was a fast youth on his
+feet, was diving head-first for the bag when the ball arrived, and Mr.
+Vokes, trotting past, spread his hands. Clearfield applauded wildly.
+
+With a man on third, Rutter's Point considered discretion the better
+part of valor, and Mason pitched out three times to Pete and Pete walked
+to first, while the home team's supporters jeered and shouted
+disparaging remarks to Mason. A minute later Pete went to second
+unchallenged. Tom Haley was up, and Houghton had argued that Tom could
+be easily disposed of. And it seemed that he could. Tom made desperate
+swings at the first two deliveries, and you could have heard the sighs
+of despair that came from the anxious watchers on the seats. Then,
+heeding the coachers' voices at last, Tom got his eye on the ball and
+watched idly while Mason sped two wide ones past him. Then he tried
+again and a foul resulted, Houghton getting his hands on it at the edge
+of the stand but dropping it. A third ball narrowly escaped being a
+strike, and Gordon cried: "That's waiting, Tom! Let him walk you; he'll
+do it in a minute!"
+
+And he would have, for the next delivery was inches wide of the outer
+corner of the plate, but Tom reached out eagerly, got that ball on the
+tip of his bat and sent it arching up in a low fly that fell three feet
+inside the first-base foul line and just out of the reach of the three
+fielders who raced after it! In trotted Jack, scoring the tying run, and
+in sped Pete Robey, close on his heels, while Clearfield went mad with
+delight and the purple pennants waved on high. Pete beat the throw to
+the plate by inches, but Tom, trying to reach second on the throw-in,
+was less fortunate and fell victim to a fine heave from Houghton to
+Leary.
+
+Dick motioned Fudge to him. "We want another run, Fudge," he said
+softly. "Mason will be up in the air now. Make him think you're anxious
+to hit. Move up in the box and swing your bat; try to look nervous----"
+
+"I don't have t-t-t-to try," muttered Fudge.
+
+"Never mind. Make him think you'll offer at anything, but _don't_ swing
+but once. Pick out a wide one and swing at it, Fudge, but be careful not
+to hit it. If you work it right, he will pass you sure as shooting! Now,
+go ahead."
+
+Harold Townsend, so excited that he hadn't scored a thing since Jack's
+two-bagger, looked at Dick in open admiration. "I guess that's what they
+call 'inside baseball,' isn't it, Dick?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply. "It's what I'd call horse-sense. I hope
+it works, anyhow!"
+
+With two out and the bases empty the scoring was apparently over, and
+the Pointers were doubtless already occupying their thoughts with the
+task before them of overcoming that one-run lead when they at last
+returned to their positions.
+
+"Last man, Mel!" called Billy Houghton. "Let's have him!" Then Billy
+signaled for a straight one. But Mason, as Dick had predicted, was a bit
+flustered. The straight one came over too low and was a ball. He tried
+it again, and another ball resulted. Houghton returned the sphere with a
+slow and cautioning toss, and then spread his fingers for a curve. The
+curve came, went wide, and Fudge, as nervous as a wet hen, made a mighty
+swing at it, missing it by six inches and winning a laugh from the
+spectators. Then he walked to the pitcher's end of the box and
+flourished his bat, and seemed to be daring Mason to put one where he
+could get it. Houghton signaled for a curve once more, for he figured
+that Fudge was in a condition to offer at anything that came. And Mason,
+winding his fingers none too carefully about the ball, let drive with
+it, and was properly surprised when Fudge made no offer!
+
+Then Houghton woke up. The score was three balls and one strike. He
+signaled for one over the plate, and it came. "Strike!" called Mr.
+Cochran. On the bench Dick watched anxiously. If Fudge could get his
+base, he reasoned, Harry Bryan would be up, and, in the present
+disgruntled state of mind of the Point players, errors were likely to
+result. On the mound Mason was shaking his head at Houghton's
+instructions. He had no doubt that he could put the third strike over,
+but he preferred to make the batter fan. Houghton signaled again, Mason
+wound up, and the ball traveled forward. It had a jump on it, if ever a
+ball did, and that jump was Mason's undoing. Fudge never moved as the
+ball passed him, only turned inquiringly toward the umpire. The latter
+nodded. "Take your base," he said.
+
+Billy Houghton ejaculated an amazed "_What?_" and Mason disgustedly
+kicked up the dust, but Fudge, grinning toward the bench as he passed,
+trotted to first. Rutter's Point suddenly awakened to the fact that
+perhaps the trouble was not yet over, after all!
+
+Nor was it. Harry Bryan found something to his liking, and banged it
+head-high across the diamond toward Billings. Caspar knocked it down,
+fumbled it, and then threw too late to Townsend. Harry was safe on first
+and Fudge on second. Clearfield yelled like wild Indians, and the crowd
+swayed and threatened to push on to the field. Then began a panicky five
+minutes.
+
+Fudge danced around at second and Bryan at first. The coachers shouted
+and leaped, and the crowd kept up an incessant thumping of feet and a
+steady roar of voices. Up in the main stand, Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+hugging his cane and leaning forward from the very edge of his seat.
+Louise had her purple pennant twisted into a hard knot, and Morris was
+talking hoarsely to himself or whoever might be listening. "Take a good
+lead, Shaw!" he directed. "Look out, Bryan! He almost got you! Here we
+go, fellows! Here we go!" Of course, neither Fudge nor Harry heard him,
+but Morris never thought about that. Morris was running that game for
+himself just then.
+
+Dick whispered a few words to Jack Tappen, and Jack sped to first and
+whispered a few words to Gordon. And Gordon turned his head inquiringly
+toward the bench, caught Dick's emphatic nod, and renewed his shouting.
+
+"What did you tell him, Dick?" asked Harold, in a low voice.
+
+Dick smiled. "You wait and see, Harold," he said.
+
+Will Scott was up now, with one ball to his credit. Mason had made three
+attempts to catch Bryan napping at first, and now he directed his
+attention to the batsman again. A waister went for a strike, a wide one
+followed and scored the second ball, and then Mason wound up once more
+and shot his arm out. And as he did so Fudge leaped away toward third,
+Bryan sped for second, and a cry of "There he goes!" went up from the
+visitors' bench. Will Scott glued his eye to that ball, swung and missed
+it. Houghton made a desperate attempt to cut off the runner at third,
+but failed, and bedlam broke loose. Mr. Potter knocked the silver trophy
+off its base in his excitement, and only caught it at the edge of the
+"press-stand" table. Harold kicked his legs in air and tossed his
+score-book up. Mr. Anthony Brent nearly broke his walking-stick. Morris
+challenged everyone within hearing to deny that that was the prettiest
+double steal that had ever been pulled off. Louise clapped her hands
+until her palms ached and her white gloves threatened to rip. And some
+six hundred other folks did whatever it occurred to them to do, and did
+it just as noisily as they knew how!
+
+Dick Lovering, Manager of the Clearfield Baseball Club, only smiled
+quietly and made little marks in his score-book.
+
+A minute later Scott was perched on first base, Mason having been
+totally unable to locate the plate, and Gordon faced the pitcher. Bases
+full, two out, and the captain at bat! Well, it was a fine situation, no
+matter what might come of it. The Point infield crept toward the plate.
+Everyone talked loudly to the pitcher, as much, perhaps, to tranquilize
+his own nerves as to encourage Mason. Mason, it seemed, needed
+encouragement. He was palpably unstrung, and the first ball he pitched
+proved it, for it was as wild as a shooting-star, and if Billy Houghton
+had not leaped sidewise and sprawled on his elbow it would have been by
+him and let in a run. But Billy stopped it, and Fudge scuttled back to
+safety at third.
+
+Mason worked a slow ball over for a strike on the next attempt, and that
+seemed to settle him somewhat. Gordon let one go by and found he had
+judged it correctly. Then a foul back of first base made the standing
+two and two. The noise had diminished, and now an almost breathless
+silence enveloped the field. Only the voices of the coachers were to be
+heard.
+
+"Oh, come on, Fudge! Take a lead! That's better! Hold it! On your toes,
+everyone! Look out for a passed ball now! Here's where we score a few!"
+
+"Pick out a good one, Cap! Make him pitch to you! Here it is! Here it
+is!"
+
+But Gordon refused to offer at it, and, "Ball!" announced the umpire.
+
+"It's got to be good, now, Gordie!" yelled Jack. "Lean on it! Lean on
+it! Make it a homer, Cap!"
+
+Mason wound, unwound, sped the ball toward the plate, bat and ball met
+and a sudden swelling p�an of joy went up as the spectators leaped to
+their feet and craned their necks. But Gordon, speeding down the
+first-base line, and the other runners, spurning the dust between bags,
+slowed up and turned disappointedly back. The hit had gone foul by
+several yards. A brand-new ball was thrown to the pitcher, and Gordon
+picked up his bat again, waited until the runners had regained their
+bases, and then once more faced Mason.
+
+That new white ball looked good to him! What he feared most now was that
+Mason would pitch a bad one and that he would have to take his base on
+balls. To be sure, that would force in another run, but Gordon wanted
+more than that. Something told him that if Mason put one over he could
+hit it! Perhaps it would have been well if Mason had sacrificed a run
+and passed the Clearfield captain, but Mason couldn't be expected to
+know what was to happen. He wanted to strike the batsman out and end a
+deplorable inning, and Billy Houghton wanted the same thing. And so
+Billy spread his hands wide and Mason was just a bit more careful than
+usual and the ball sped forward fast and straight. And Gordon felt his
+heart jump as he saw what was coming. Every muscle tightened, his bat
+swung sharply, there was a _crack_ that was easily heard outside the
+field where an eager army of small boys had their eyes glued to all
+available cracks and knot-holes, and Gordon was racing for first!
+
+Over Leary's upstretched glove traveled the ball into the outfield. Jim
+House made a desperate effort to get it on the bound, missed it, whirled
+and scuttled back toward the fence. It was Pink Northrop, right fielder,
+who finally recovered it and threw it frantically in to second baseman.
+But by that time three joyous youths had crossed the plate and Gordon
+was sliding, in a cloud of dust, to third. And he might have kept his
+feet, at that, for poor Caspar, seeing the game slipping away, muffed
+the throw. Gordon had come through with a clean three-bagger! The score
+stood five to one! The "lucky seventh" had proved itself!
+
+[Illustration: "The Lucky Seventh had proved itself"]
+
+The inning ended two minutes later when Way was
+an easy out, shortstop to first, and Rutter's Point again took up the
+bat. But four runs was a desperate handicap to overcome, and Tom Haley,
+encouraged by success, pitched the best ball of his career. To be sure,
+Rutter's Point did score once more, in the first of the ninth, Caspar
+Billings slamming out a two-bagger much too hot for Pete Robey to handle
+and sending Jensen across the plate. And after that Townsend got to
+first on an error by Will Scott, and the Point, with Gil Chase at bat,
+tried heroically to pull the game out of the fire by a ninth-inning
+rally. But Tom was not to be trifled with, and Chase finally went out on
+a long fly to center, which Fudge, making the most of his second chance
+of the game, pulled down without a tremor!
+
+And then the band crashed forth into a triumphant march, the stands
+emptied, the field was flooded with laughing, satisfied spectators,
+cheers were given and answered, and, surrounded by a dense throng of
+enthusiastic admirers, Gordon and Dick and the others tried to hear Mr.
+Potter's speech as he presented to them the silver cup and the silken
+pennant. That speech appeared in full in Monday's _Reporter_, together
+with three columns of descriptive matter and a detailed story of the
+game; but no one heard it now.
+
+Five minutes later, Dick, the trophy held on his knees, sat in the blue
+runabout, and, with the triumphant Clearfield nine following behind, was
+paraded thrice around the field, Morris acting as charioteer. And the
+crowd, loitering behind to miss none of the fun, scuttled aside and
+cheered and waved purple flags.
+
+Last of all, with a score-book somewhat the worse for wear clutched
+tightly under his arm, strode Harold, adding his shrill cheers to the
+general tumult.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"THE LUCKY SEVENTH"
+
+
+On a crisp and sunny Saturday morning, a fortnight after the game, a
+blue runabout automobile came quietly and circumspectly along Troutman
+Street, under the yellowing maples, and, with two gruff toots of its
+horn, slowed down and came to a stop in front of the Merricks' gate. As
+the driver of the car slid the gears into neutral and kicked off the
+switch at the battery, a look of relief succeeded the somewhat strained
+and anxious expression he had worn. I think he even sighed his
+satisfaction as he relaxed his grasp of the steering wheel and looked
+toward the doorway. Along the running-board on the driver's side of the
+car lay a pair of crutches, held in place by an ingenious contrivance of
+heavy wire.
+
+After that, there is no use trying to longer conceal the identity of the
+boy at the wheel. It was Dick. A week of instruction by Morris and a
+second week spent in operating alone had made him a fairly competent
+driver, but he had not yet passed the stage where a corner was something
+to be approached with vast anxiety and to be negotiated with care and
+deliberation. Every inch of the blue varnished surface of the car shone
+resplendently, and every particle of brass was polished until it was
+painful to view.
+
+Two more blasts of the grumpy horn at last produced results. The screen
+door flew open, and Gordon, a piece of toast in one hand and a napkin in
+the other, appeared.
+
+"Say, what time do you think it is?" he demanded laughingly.
+
+"It's time you were through breakfast, anyway," responded Dick. "Get a
+hustle on. _Eli_ hates to stand." (Dick had named the car _Eli Yale_
+because of its color, but generally referred to it as _Eli_.)
+
+"I'll bring a lump of sugar for him," said Gordon. "Keep a tight rein on
+him, Dick, and I'll be with you in five minutes. Maybe he will stand
+long enough for you to come in and have a cup of coffee."
+
+"I wouldn't dare risk it," replied Dick gravely. "Besides, I never take
+coffee in the middle of the forenoon."
+
+"Middle of the forenoon!" grunted the other. "It isn't half-past eight
+yet! Since you got that car, you never go to bed at all, I guess!"
+
+Gordon vanished with that, and Dick leaned comfortably back in the
+runabout to wait. But an instant later a speck of tarnish on the dash
+clock--a gift from Louise Brent--caught his eye, and he whisked a piece
+of cheesecloth from a pocket on the inside of the door and attacked it
+indignantly. Before he had conquered it, returned the cloth and buttoned
+the flap again, Gordon appeared once more, capped and ready for the
+ride.
+
+"All set?"
+
+Dick looked carefully at levers and switch. "All set," he said.
+
+Gordon turned the handle half over, and _Eli_ broke into a frantic
+chugging that could be heard six blocks away. Dick pushed back the
+throttle and pulled down the spark, however, and _Eli_ moderated his
+transports. Gordon, who had clapped his hands to his ears, grinned as he
+climbed in beside Dick and slammed the door. "Gee," he said, "but he's
+some noisy!"
+
+"Not at all," denied Dick indignantly. "He naturally chortles a little
+at times."
+
+"Oh, was he chortling? I thought he was champing his bit. Hello, see
+who's here!" added Gordon, as the car swayed across B Street. A lusty
+shouting was heard, and Fudge came racing along the sidewalk. Dick
+stopped.
+
+"W-w-where you going?" panted Fudge. "Take me, too, Dick. You haven't
+given me a ride yet!"
+
+"All right," laughed Dick. "Open the door and sit on the edge there,
+Fudge. But don't drag your big feet and stop the car."
+
+"Go get your cap," advised Gordon.
+
+"Don't need a cap. Where are you going?"
+
+"Oh, just for a ride," replied Dick, throwing in his clutch again after
+a calculating survey of the empty street.
+
+"The Springdale road's pretty good," suggested Gordon, with a wink at
+Fudge.
+
+"I thought I'd run out toward the Point," said Dick carelessly. "You
+don't meet many teams that way."
+
+"By the way," asked Gordon, "when do they move in?"
+
+"Who?" Dick inquired.
+
+"The Brents, of course." Fudge giggled.
+
+Dick laughed. "Who said anything about the Brents, you idiot?"
+
+"No one; only you spoke of going to the Point. You can drop Fudge and me
+at the hotel. We don't want to be in the way."
+
+"Oh, you run along and play!" said Dick good-naturedly. "If you really
+want to know when they're coming back to town, I'll tell you. They're
+going to move in next Wednesday. Morris says it's too hard to get to
+school on time. And since football practice has begun----" Dick broke
+off to negotiate a corner.
+
+"Morris is crazy to think he can play this Fall," said Fudge. "He will
+bust his leg again. You'll see."
+
+"He's going to try, anyway," said Gordon. "They're going to mark out the
+gridiron this morning, Dick."
+
+"That so? Oh, by the way, I heard from Harold. I've got his letter here
+somewhere. Steady the wheel a minute, Gordie, will you?" Dick drew forth
+an envelope from his pocket and handed it across. "Read it aloud."
+
+  "'Dear Dick,'" read Gordon, "'I passed all right. Only I have got to
+  do some extra Math this term. I was sort of rotten on Math. Old
+  Penny (he's the principal) says I did better than lots of fellows
+  who come here. Loring said I was to thank you, and I do awfully,
+  Dick. You were fine and dandy to me, and I am sorry I was such a
+  rotter at first. And I am very sorry about the Math. It wasn't your
+  fault, Dick. Please remember me to the fellows, and tell them I am
+  coming back next year. I am going out for the junior baseball team
+  next week and maybe next summer I can play for you, Dick, if you
+  want me. Loring says remember him to you, and so no more at present
+  from your firm friend,
+                                                             Harold.'"
+
+"'Firm friend' is pretty good," commented Gordon, as he folded the
+letter up and returned it to its envelope. "But I'm glad the kid passed,
+if only on your account, Dick."
+
+"Yes; if he had failed, I'd have felt sort of mean about taking the
+money. Speaking of money, fellows," he continued, as the runabout slid
+across the trolley tracks and headed toward Rutter's Point, "Mr. Potter
+sent me the statement this morning. I didn't bring it, though."
+
+"How did we come out?" asked Gordon. "About the way we figured?"
+
+"Nearly forty dollars better. There were six hundred and thirty-three
+paid admissions to the game, amounting to four hundred and three
+dollars. The total expenses were, I think, sixty-one dollars; or maybe
+they were sixty-three. Anyway, the net profits amount to three hundred
+and forty-two dollars. That includes four dollars and something made on
+the pennants sold."
+
+"Peanuts?" exclaimed Fudge. "I didn't know we----"
+
+"Pennants, stupid!" corrected Gordon. "Well, that's doing pretty well,
+Dick. Then, after paying for the car, we have money left?"
+
+"Over fifty dollars," was the reply. "What shall we do with it?"
+
+"G-g-give it to me," suggested Fudge.
+
+"I think you ought to have it for gasoline and tires," laughed Gordon.
+"This thing will keep you poor, I'm afraid, Dick."
+
+"No, sir," replied the owner of the car seriously. "I'm studying up on
+autos, and I'm going to make my own repairs. And I've sent for a
+vulcanizing outfit that only costs three dollars and a half. When I get
+that I can fix my own tires. As for gasoline, why, _Eli_ only drinks a
+gallon every twenty miles! And I don't run that far in three days! I
+think it would be a good plan to hand over what we have left to the
+Athletic Committee, Gordie. They'll need a lot of money now that we own
+the field. We'll have to pay the taxes and for water and other things."
+
+"That's right. As far as I'm concerned----"
+
+"Remember this place?" interrupted Dick.
+
+Gordon nodded. "Yes; that's where Morris steered the car into the fence
+and me into the bushes."
+
+"It's where you became a blooming hero," said Fudge.
+
+"Hero, nothing! What I did didn't amount to a row of pins!"
+
+"Well, it amounted to the gift of an athletic field to the school," said
+Dick, with a smile. "That's something, you know!"
+
+"And it amounted to something else, t-t-too," added Fudge. "It made
+Morris a respectable member of s-s-s-society!"
+
+"What beautiful expressions you do use, Fudge!" laughed Gordon.
+
+"Fudge is right, though," agreed Dick, when he had carefully steered the
+car around a wagon. "Morris is a heap more--more likable than he was
+last year. Whether it was the accident----"
+
+"It jarred some of the nonsense out of him, perhaps," said Gordon.
+"Although, for that matter, Dick, maybe you like him better for other
+reasons."
+
+"Humph!" said Dick, with a suspicious sidelong glance. Fudge chuckled.
+
+"Even you and Morris' father seem to be getting quite chummy," pursued
+Gordon, "while as for Mrs. Brent, why, she's absolutely spoony about
+you!"
+
+"Go ahead and enjoy yourself," said Dick. "I don't mind your ravings.
+Looks as though they were getting ready to close the hotel, doesn't it?"
+he added, as they took the corner cautiously and turned into the shore
+road.
+
+"I should think they would. About everyone has gone. Did I tell you what
+Caspar Billings said at the station the other day?"
+
+"I don't think so. What was it?"
+
+"He said he was going to send circulars of the hotel to all the prep
+schools next Spring, so he could get up a nine that would beat us next
+summer and get that pennant back!"
+
+"L-l-let him!" sputtered Fudge. "We'll be ready for them!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, for we'll have Mr. Harold Townsend playing for us," said
+Gordon. "By the way, Dick, we'd better put him in center field, don't
+you think?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"That's all r-r-right!" exploded Fudge. "P-p-put him there! I'm going to
+p-p-p-play in the infield next s-s-s-summer! I'm g-g-going----"
+
+But Fudge's remarks were drowned by the sudden croaking of the horn as
+the blue runabout approached the Brents' cottage.
+
+"There's Morris on the porch," said Dick, adding another dismal warning.
+
+"Yes, and--am I mistaken, or is that---- My sight isn't what it used to
+be, Fudge. Look and tell me if that is Louise on the steps."
+
+"Dry up!" muttered Dick, turning the car toward the curb and throwing
+out the clutch.
+
+Morris and Louise came down the walk. "Some driving, that, Dick," Morris
+applauded.
+
+"Oh, I told him what to do!" said Gordon modestly.
+
+"Good morning, Mister Manager," greeted Louise. "Good morning, Mister
+Captain. Good morning, Mister----" She paused, at a loss.
+
+"Mister Historian," supplied Gordon. "Fudge is writing a beautiful story
+about the game, aren't you, Fudge? He's going to call it----"
+
+"C-c-cut it out!" growled Fudge.
+
+"Please tell me, Fudge," begged Louise. "What _are_ you going to call
+it?"
+
+Fudge scowled, grinned, and relented.
+
+"I'm g-g-going to c-c-c-call it," he said, "'The Lucky Seventh.'"
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Transitional//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-transitional.dtd">
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">
+<head>
+  <meta http-equiv='Content-Type' content='text/html; charset=utf-8' />
+  <meta name='author' content='Ralph Henry Barbour' />
+  <meta name='generator' content='ph.py (version 20120603)' />
+  <title>The Lucky Seventh</title>
+  <style type='text/css'>
+    body { margin:2em 7%; text-align: justify; }
+    h1 { text-align: center; font-size: large; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1.5em;}
+    h2 { text-align: center; font-size: medium; font-weight: normal; margin-top:3em; margin-bottom:1.5em;}
+    hr.pb { border:none;border-bottom:1px solid #cccccc; margin: 30px auto; }
+    div.centered { text-align: center; }
+    div.centered table { margin: 0 auto; text-align: left; }
+  </style>
+</head>
+<body>
+
+
+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: The Lucky Seventh
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell
+
+Release Date: June 5, 2012 [EBook #39923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
+Digital Library.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>THE LUCKY SEVENTH</h1>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<p style='text-align:center; font-size:larger;'>By Ralph Henry Barbour</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>The Brother of a Hero<br/>
+Benton’s Venture<br/>
+Around the End<br/>
+The Junior Trophy<br/>
+Change Signals!<br/>
+Finkler’s Field<br/>
+For Yardley<br/>
+The New Boy at Hilltop<br/>
+Winning His “Y”<br/>
+Double Play<br/>
+Forward Pass!<br/>
+The Spirit of the School<br/>
+Four Afloat<br/>
+Weatherby’s Inning<br/>
+The Half-Back<br/>
+On Your Mark<br/>
+Four in Camp<br/>
+Four Afoot<br/>
+For the Honor of the School<br/>
+Captain of the Crew<br/>
+Behind the Line<br/>
+The Arrival of Jimpson</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>D. APPLETON &amp; COMPANY, NEW YORK</p>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<div align='center'>
+<img alt='' id='i0' src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' />
+<p style='width:346px'>“There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+</div>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<h1>THE LUCKY SEVENTH</h1>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>BY<br/>
+<span style='font-size:larger'>RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</span></p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>AUTHOR OF “THE BROTHER OF A HERO,”<br/>
+“BENTON’S VENTURE,” ETC.</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>ILLUSTRATED BY<br/>NORMAN P. ROCKWELL</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>NEW YORK AND LONDON<br/>
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br/>
+1915</p>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>Copyright, 1915, by<br/>
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>Printed in the United States of America</p>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<p>CONTENTS</p>
+
+<p>
+<a href='#c1'>I. Gordon Gets a Letter</a><br/>
+<a href='#c2'>II. Dick Consents</a><br/>
+<a href='#c3'>III. A Rich Man’s Son</a><br/>
+<a href='#c4'>IV. The Team Elects Its Captain</a><br/>
+<a href='#c5'>V. Dick Visits the Point</a><br/>
+<a href='#c6'>VI. Clearfield Plays the Point</a><br/>
+<a href='#c7'>VII. The Blue Runabout</a><br/>
+<a href='#c8'>VIII. Across the Gully</a><br/>
+<a href='#c9'>IX. Mr. Merrick Breaks a Plate</a><br/>
+<a href='#c10'>X. Gordon Bears a Message</a><br/>
+<a href='#c11'>XI. Fudge Scents a Secret</a><br/>
+<a href='#c12'>XII. A Reversed Decision</a><br/>
+<a href='#c13'>XIII. Jack Is Suspended</a><br/>
+<a href='#c14'>XIV. A Visit To the Invalid</a><br/>
+<a href='#c15'>XV. On the Rocks</a><br/>
+<a href='#c16'>XVI. Dick Scores a Defeat</a><br/>
+<a href='#c17'>XVII. Harold Makes a Promise</a><br/>
+<a href='#c18'>XVIII. The Live Wires—and Mr. Potter</a><br/>
+<a href='#c19'>XIX. Mr. Potter Gets Busy</a><br/>
+<a href='#c20'>XX. Mr. Brent to the Rescue</a><br/>
+<a href='#c21'>XXI. Mr. Brent Telephones</a><br/>
+<a href='#c22'>XXII. Gordon Brings Good News</a><br/>
+<a href='#c23'>XXIII. Mr. Brent Throws a Ball</a><br/>
+<a href='#c24'>XXIV. Dick Smiles</a><br/>
+<a href='#c25'>XXV. “The Lucky Seventh”</a><br/>
+</p>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<p>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</p>
+
+<p><a href='#i0'>“There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</a><br/>
+<a href='#i1'>“‘Good-night,’ responded Gordon and Fudge”</a><br/>
+<a href='#i2'>“Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday”</a><br/>
+<a href='#i3'>“The Lucky Seventh had proved itself”</a></p>
+
+<hr class='pb' />
+
+<h2 id='c1'>CHAPTER I<br/>GORDON GETS A LETTER</h2>
+
+<p>When Gordon Merrick neared the corner
+of Troutman Street he slowed down his
+bicycle and finally drew in at the curb,
+putting out a foot to hold himself in the saddle while
+he deliberated. So deep in thought was he that when
+the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half
+asleep under the blue and white umbrella, he never
+knew of it until the sprinkler had drenched him from
+foot to knee. The driver awoke at that moment and,
+looking back, saw Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Hi, there!” he shouted. “Look out!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected
+bath, smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Why?” he asked. “Are you coming back?”</p>
+
+<p>The joke was lost on the driver of the watering
+cart, however. He only scowled and settled back to
+slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glanced ruefully
+at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks
+of that no harm had been done, for it was a hot morning
+in early July and the feeling of the cool water
+against his leg had been decidedly pleasant. Evidently
+the incident had brought a decision in the
+weighty problem which had confronted him, for with
+no more hesitation he turned his wheel to the left and
+peddled on down E Street.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll talk to Dick about it,” he said to himself. “He
+always knows what to do.”</p>
+
+<p>The Loverings lived in the third house from the
+corner, one of a half-dozen modest abodes occupying
+that side of the block. All the houses were painted
+white, although differing slightly in the simplicity of
+their architecture, and all were more or less hidden
+from view by hedges of lilac or arbor-vitæ. Old-fashioned
+white picket fences peeked out between the leaves
+of the hedges. The street itself was old-fashioned.
+Ten years before it had been in the desirable part of
+Clearfield, but since then the residential center had
+worked westward and the row of quiet, green-shuttered
+cottages was being closed in by such unsavory
+neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.</p>
+
+<p>Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened
+porch as the latter jumped from his bicycle and leaned
+it against the hitching-post in front of the little gate.
+“Hello, Gordie! Come on up.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which
+stretched the width of the house. There was a table
+beside him which held a few flowers in a quaint old
+green vase and many books and magazines. Dick’s
+crutches stood against the wall within reach, for Dick,
+as he put it, was “very fond of his crutches and never
+went anywhere without them.” He was seventeen, a
+tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and
+just the smallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks.
+As Gordon came up the steps Dick laid down the
+magazine he had been reading and smiled his pleasant
+smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Been in the pond?” he asked, viewing the other’s
+wet trousers.</p>
+
+<p>“Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are
+you, Dickums?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fine. Swell weather, isn’t it? You look warm,
+though.”</p>
+
+<p>“So would you if you’d been riding all over town.
+Say, I got a letter from Bert Cable this morning and
+I want you to see what you think about it. I’ve got
+it here somewhere.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where is Bert?” asked Dick as Gordon searched
+his pockets.</p>
+
+<p>“Bridgeport, Connecticut. He’s working for his
+uncle in some sort of a factory over there. He told
+me he was going to get eight dollars a week. Here
+it is. You’d better read it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You do it,” smiled Dick. “I’m lazy to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he says—Where is it?—Here we are. ‘I’m
+sending a letter that came the other day from Caspar
+Billings. He thinks we’re still playing ball and wants
+a game with us. I haven’t answered it. What I was
+thinking was why don’t you and Lansing and Fudge
+Shaw and some of the fellows get a team together
+and play the Point? You could have a lot of fun.
+Those fellows at the Point aren’t anything to be scared
+of. You could get up a team that would wallop
+them easy. Tom Haley would pitch for you and Lansing
+could catch and you could play first. Why don’t
+you? Anyway, you answer the letter. I’m awfully
+busy here and don’t have much time for writing letters.
+This is a swell town, lots going on all the time
+and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows
+and tell Harry Bryan when you see him that he’s
+got my glove and is to send it to me because I may
+need it. We’re getting up a team here at the factory.
+We’ve got a dandy pitcher and I guess they’ll put me
+at short. Don’t forget to write to Billings anyway.
+Yours truly, Bert.’”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. “What
+do you think?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I dare say they will.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dare say who will? Will what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Put Bert at short,” chuckled Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think
+of the scheme?”</p>
+
+<p>“Good, I’d say. I suppose,” with a humorous glance
+at his crutches, “you came around to see if I’d play
+third base for you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don’t see how
+you can always be so cheerful about—about it! I
+couldn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it isn’t hard, Gordie, when you’ve had seventeen
+years’ practice. Of course, if I’d been able to get
+around like other fellows and then—then had this
+happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a
+chap might as well be cheerful as anything else. After
+all, I don’t miss much fun. I can’t play games or run or
+skate or—or do a lot of things I’d like to, but I can
+watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if I
+<i>could</i>—well, play third base, say, I’d do it better than
+the next chap. The beauty of it is that you can’t
+prove I wouldn’t!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know
+more baseball and more football than most of the
+fellows who play.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?” laughed Dick. “They don’t have as
+much time to study it as I do. They have to get out
+and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind
+about me. What’s this Billings chap say?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from
+the envelope and read its contents. “‘Mr. Bert Cable,
+Captain Clearfield High School Baseball Club, Dear
+Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up
+a ball team and we want games. Will you play us?
+We’ll play on our own field or on yours, just as you
+say. Any date after July 10th will suit us, Wednesdays
+or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average
+about the same as your team, I guess. Please let
+me hear from you, and if there are any other teams
+around Clearfield we could play with I wish you’d let
+me know and send managers’ addresses. Very truly,
+Caspar Billings, Captain, Rutter’s Point Baseball Association.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Caspar Billings,” mused Dick. “Which one of the
+Silk Stocking Brigade is he, Gordon?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon smiled. “I don’t remember him particularly.
+He’s a sort of chum of Morris Brent, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“That all you can say for him?” asked Dick. “I
+suppose Morris will play with the Pointers?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. He won’t be much of a help, though.
+He plays ball like—like a turtle!”</p>
+
+<p>“Morris says,” replied Dick with his slow smile,
+“that he can play a lot better than most of you fellows
+and that if Bert and Tom Haley and some of the
+others weren’t down on him he’d have made the team
+last spring.”</p>
+
+<p>“Guff! He can’t catch a ball. He’s not a bad sort,
+Morris, if his dad <i>does</i> own the town, but he’s no Ty
+Cobb! Well, what do you think about getting up a
+team, Dickums?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not? You’ve got plenty of fellows. Most
+of the school team are still around, aren’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe
+Browne.”</p>
+
+<p>“Where’s Warner?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Gone away with his folks somewhere
+for the summer. Wish my folks would do
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let’s make
+up the team. Haley, pitch, and Lanny, catcher<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll play first and Harry Bryan second<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“How about Will Scott?”</p>
+
+<p>“Third. Then for shortstop<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Jack Tappen?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no, he’d better play in the outfield. I’ll put him
+down for right. I guess Pete Robey’s the chap for
+short. That leaves us Way for left field and I guess
+Fudge will do for center. He can’t hit much, but he
+can pull down a fly.”</p>
+
+<p>“There you are, then. What will you call the nine?
+You can’t be the High School team, I suppose.”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no, we’ll have to find a name. The Clearfield—what,
+Dickums?”</p>
+
+<p>“Rovers?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs,” laughed
+Gordon. “We might call ourselves the Purple Sox,
+only it’s sort of hard to say.”</p>
+
+<p>“Shorten it,” suggested Dick. “Call yourselves the
+‘Purps.’”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s worse than the Rovers! Why not just the
+Clearfield Ball Club?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not? That’s settled. Now you want a manager<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Got one.”</p>
+
+<p>“You have? Who?”</p>
+
+<p>“You.”</p>
+
+<p>“Me!”</p>
+
+<p>“Surest thing you know. That’s partly why I came.
+To tell you. You see, I thought you’d want to
+know it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Very thoughtful of you,” Dick laughed. “But will
+you tell me how I can manage a ball team, you idiot?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why can’t you? All you have to do is to arrange
+games for us and look after the expenses and see that
+we behave ourselves. If they make me captain<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Which they will, as it’s your scheme!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s really Bert’s. But if they do I’m going to tell
+the other fellows that they’ve got to do just as you
+say. You know more baseball than I do and you’re
+going to be the real thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nonsense!”</p>
+
+<p>“No nonsense about it. That’s settled, then.”</p>
+
+<p>“But, look here, I’d have to go to places with you
+and—and—well, you know, Gordie, I can’t afford to
+do that very often.”</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t cost you anything. Your expenses will
+be paid by the club. Besides, we’ll only go over to
+the Point and places like that, I guess. Now I’m going
+to see Lanny and talk it over with him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, all right. I’ll be manager if you really want
+me to. I’d like it. Only, if you change your mind,
+or the other fellows think<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“You know very well the other fellows will be
+tickled to death,” replied Gordon severely. “And it
+will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off this
+porch now and then. You don’t get enough sunshine
+and fresh air.”</p>
+
+<p>“Considering that I’m outdoors all day and sleep
+with my head through the window,” laughed Dick,
+“that’s a bit of a joke. But have your own way,
+Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I’ll come over
+again after dinner. Rah for the Clearfield Ball Club,
+Dickums! So long!”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c2'>CHAPTER II<br/>DICK CONSENTS</h2>
+
+<p>“The only th-thing is,” said Fudge, “it’s going
+to co-cost a heap, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge, whose real name was William
+Shaw, was fifteen years of age, had sandy-red hair
+and blue eyes and was short of stature and round of
+body. His habitual expression was one of pleased
+surprise, due probably to the fact that his blue eyes
+were very blue and very big. When Fudge was the
+least bit excited he stammered, but the habit was too
+slight to be an affliction, and his friends sometimes
+got Fudge upset in order to enjoy his facial contortions
+when the word wouldn’t come promptly. It
+was Lansing White who, several years before in grammar
+school, had dubbed him Fudge. Lanny declared
+that “pshaw” and “fudge” meant the same thing and
+that “fudge” was more novel. At the present moment
+Fudge was seated in the apple tree which grew
+by the fence where the Shaws’ side-yard and the
+Merricks’ back-yard came together. It was a favorite
+retreat with Fudge, and he had built a shelf handy
+to the comfortable crotch he affected on which to
+place books and papers when, as was customary, he
+was studying his lessons there. To-day, however, as
+school was over for the summer, there were no books
+about and the shelf bore, instead, a tennis racket which
+Fudge had been mending when Gordon found him.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see why,” replied Gordon, leaning his arms
+on the top of the fence. “We’ve all got our High
+School uniforms and we’ve all got bats and mitts and
+things. All we’d need to spend money on would be
+balls, I guess. Of course, when we went away every
+fellow would have to pay his transportation.”</p>
+
+<p>“M-meaning carfare?” queried Fudge. “Say, it’s
+a peach of a scheme, Gordie! I wish I could bat better,
+though. Maybe I’ll get on to it, eh? I guess what
+I need is practice.” And Fudge, swinging an imaginary
+bat at an invisible ball, almost fell off the branch.
+“Who’s going to be captain?” he asked when he had
+recovered his equilibrium.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll vote, I suppose,” replied Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>Fudge grinned. “Then it’ll be me. I’m awfully
+popular. Have you told Lanny yet?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and he says if you play center there’s got to
+be a rule that a hit to center field is good for only three
+bases.”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge snorted indignantly. “If he ever hit a ball
+as far as the outfield he’d fall in a faint! When do
+we start?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve got to see the other fellows yet. Harry is
+working in his father’s store and I don’t know whether
+his dad will let him play.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so. We need him, too. He’s a peach of a
+baseman. Who’s going to play short?”</p>
+
+<p>“I want Pete Robey to,” replied Gordon doubtfully.
+“Think he’d do, Fudge?”</p>
+
+<p>“We-ell, Pete isn’t so much of a muchness. Why
+don’t you p-put him in center and let me play short?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because a fellow has to have brains to play in the
+infield, Fudge, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge tried to reach him with the racket, failed and,
+composing his features to an expression of grave interest,
+asked: “Won’t it be awfully hard to find anyone
+to play first?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon smiled. “Never you mind about first. Get
+your wheel and let’s go around and see some of the
+fellows. We can catch Harry at the store if we hurry.
+I want to see Tom, too. If he won’t go into it and
+pitch for us we might as well give it up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Tom’ll pitch all right,” answered Fudge, dropping
+from the tree, racket in hand. “He’d rather pitch
+a baseball than eat. I’ll meet you out front in two
+minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>He wormed his way through the currant bushes to
+the garden path and disappeared toward the house,
+while Gordon, dodging the clothes lines strung near
+the rear fence, went along the brick walk and gained
+the side porch by the simple expedient of vaulting the
+railing. The Merrick house was new—most of the
+residences on that end of Troutman Street were—and
+was mildly pretentious. Mr. Merrick was a lawyer
+and comfortably well-to-do. The family had lived in
+Clearfield for six generations and had given its name
+to one of the principal streets in the downtown business
+part of the city. I refer to Clearfield as a city,
+and it really was, but it was not a very large city.
+The latest census credited it with something over 17,000
+inhabitants. Like many New England cities of
+its kind, it owed its growth and prosperity to factories
+of various sorts. Mill River, which entered the bay
+two miles distant, flowed along the edge of the town
+and provided water-power for a number of large
+manufacturing plants, knitting mills, a sewing machine
+factory, a silverware factory and several others.</p>
+
+<p>The knitting mills were largely owned by Mr.
+Brent, the Honorable Jonathan Brent, as the Clearfield
+<i>Reporter</i> usually referred to him, and while Gordon
+had spoken of Mr. Brent “owning the town,” he
+had, of course, exaggerated, but still had not been very
+far wide of the mark. Mr. Brent was Clearfield’s
+richest and its leading citizen. Besides the knitting
+mills he controlled two banks and the street railway
+and lighting service and had a finger—usually two or
+three fingers—in many other enterprises. The Brent
+residence, standing imposingly in a whole block of
+land, was visible, further along Troutman Street,
+from the Merricks’ porch. In this, the more recently
+developed part of the town, the wide streets were
+lined with maples as yet too young to afford much
+shade, but a giant elm tree, which had been old long
+before Clearfield even thought of growing away from
+the river, stood just inside the Merricks’ front gate
+and effectively screened the house from the hot sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon contented himself with putting his head
+inside the screen door and announcing in a loud voice:
+“Mother, I’m going downtown. Is there anything you
+want?” Mrs. Merrick’s voice floated down from upstairs
+in reply: “No, dear; but please try to be on
+time for dinner. You know your father dislikes<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>But Gordon didn’t hear the rest of it. He didn’t
+need to. He knew what his father disliked. His
+father disliked having him late for his meals, disliked
+his going out in the evenings, disliked—oh, so many
+things! Gordon sighed as he mounted his wheel.
+Life was really extremely difficult at times!</p>
+
+<p>He was a well-built, athletic youth of fifteen years,
+with a pleasant, clean-cut face, dark brown eyes and
+hair and a well-tanned skin. He looked very much
+alive and rather enthusiastic, just the sort of a boy,
+in short, to undertake and carry through successfully
+such an enterprise as the formation of the Clearfield
+Baseball Club.</p>
+
+<p>Fudge was waiting for him around the corner, and
+they set off together in search of Tom Haley. Tom
+lived in what folks called the East End, which was
+that section of the town near the railroad largely inhabited
+by workers in the mills and factories. Tom’s
+father was a foreman in the sewing-machine works,
+and the family occupied a tiny story-and-a-half cottage
+so close to the railroad tracks that it shook whenever
+the trains passed. Fortunately they found Tom
+at home, very busily engaged repairing the front
+steps, surrounded by carpenter’s tools and three junior
+members of the Haley family. He rescued the chisel
+from Tille, aged four, deprived the baby of a handful
+of nails, told George, aged six, to stop sawing the
+chair leg, and greeted his visitors.</p>
+
+<p>Tom was sixteen, big, broad-shouldered and raw-boned,
+with an angular face and high cheek-bones liberally
+speckled with freckles. At present he was minus
+coat and vest and wore a pair of blue overalls. “You
+kids get in the house now,” he instructed the suddenly
+silent trio of youngsters, “and tell your mother to keep
+you in there, too. You’ve bothered me enough. Shoo,
+the whole lot of you!”</p>
+
+<p>They went, with many backward glances, and Tom
+cleared a space on the edge of the unrailed porch for
+Gordon and Fudge. “Say, it’s some warm, isn’t it?
+What you fellows up to to-day? Going to the
+pond?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, we’re calling on you,” replied Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Much obliged. What’s the game?”</p>
+
+<p>“Baseball,” said Gordon. “We’re getting up a
+team to play the Rutter’s Point fellows and we want
+you to join, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t mind, if there isn’t much practice. There’s
+a lot to be done around the house here this summer.
+We’re going to shingle next week, and after that we’ll
+paint. Who’s on the team?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon explained all about it, read Bert Cable’s
+letter and Caspar Billings’ and told Tom the line-up
+of the nine as he had planned it.</p>
+
+<p>“Sounds all right,” said Tom. “When are you going
+to start?”</p>
+
+<p>“Right away. If you’ll pitch for us we’ll be all right.
+I’ll answer Billings’ letter and tell him we’ll meet him
+a week from Wednesday. That’ll give us a whole week
+for practicing.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’m with you, only don’t expect me to
+practice much, Gordon. I’m pretty busy. I’ll come out
+a couple of times, though; say—let me see—say Friday
+and Monday. Going to use the school field?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I don’t suppose anyone will object?”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t see why they should. You’d better see Mr.
+Grayson, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will. No, that will be up to Dick. He’s going
+to be manager.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dick Lovering?” asked Tom, in surprise. “Well,
+I don’t see why not. He can get around all right.
+Have you asked him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and he said he would. The only thing is,
+Tom, we’ll have to pay his expenses if we go away
+from home very far. I told him we would. It
+wouldn’t be much if we shared it. You see, Dick
+doesn’t have much money. I guess they’re pretty
+hard-up. His father only left them that house they’re
+in and a little insurance money, and of course Dick
+can’t do much to earn any.”</p>
+
+<p>“He told me the other day,” said Fudge, “that he
+was trying to get work tutoring this summer over at
+the Point. He could do that finely if he could find
+anyone to toot. Hope he does. Dick’s a peach.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then we’ll have first practice Wednesday, the rest
+of us, and we’ll look for you Friday, Tom. I’ve got
+to catch Harry before he goes home. Maybe his
+father won’t let him off. If he won’t we’ll be in a
+bad way for a second baseman.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you hold practice late—say, half-past four—I
+guess Harry could get there,” said Tom. “And we
+wouldn’t play more than twice a week, I suppose. Who
+else are you going after besides the Pointers?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Maybe Lesterville. They’ve got
+a pretty good club over there. I guess we can find
+games enough, Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose the Springdale team has disbanded,”
+said Tom. “I’d like to get another whack at those fellows!”</p>
+
+<p>“So would I,” Gordon agreed. “We never should
+have lost that last game, Tom. We all played like
+idiots, though. Six errors is going some!”</p>
+
+<p>“It was an off-day with me, all right,” grumbled
+Tom. “I couldn’t put ’em over the plate to save my
+life in the last four innings.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll lick them at football this fall,” asserted
+Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Bound to,” agreed Tom, with a sly wink at Gordon.
+“Fudge is going to play, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet I am!” exclaimed Fudge. “I’m going to
+p-p-play end. I’m g-g-going<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“So am I,” laughed Gordon. “Right now. Come
+along, Fudge, and we’ll hunt up Harry. I’m glad
+you’ll come in with us, Tom. By the way, I suppose
+we ought to have a sort of meeting to organize pretty
+soon. How would it do if you all came to my house
+to-morrow evening? We’ll have to choose a captain
+and—and talk things over.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you’ll be captain,” said Tom. “It’s your
+scheme. Besides, who else is there?”</p>
+
+<p>“You, or Harry, or Will Scott, or<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks, they’re not made for it. It’ll be either
+you or Lansing, I guess. Anyway, I’ll be over to-morrow,
+if you say so, about eight. So long. I’ve
+got to get these boards down before dinner.”</p>
+
+<p>They found Harry Bryan in his father’s grocery.
+He, too, was very busy, but he stopped putting up
+orders long enough to hear Gordon’s tale, and was instantly
+enthusiastic.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll have to ask my dad, though,” he said doubtfully.
+“He’s keeping me pretty close to business,”
+he added importantly.</p>
+
+<p>“What do you do, Harry?” asked Fudge. “Put
+the sand in the sugar?”</p>
+
+<p>Harry treated the insult with silent contempt. “I’ll
+ask him to-night, though,” he continued, “and let you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Telephone me, will you? We’ll have practice late
+in the afternoon, Harry. You wouldn’t have to get
+away until after four.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. I guess he will let me. He ought to.”
+Harry observed the yellow slips in his hand somberly.
+“I’ve been working pretty hard, I tell you.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should think,” suggested the irrepressible Fudge,
+“that if you worked late to-night you could sand
+enough sugar to last the week out!”</p>
+
+<p>“Say, they’re not going to let you play, are they,
+Fudge?”</p>
+
+<p>“How could they do without me?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’ll be a peach of a nine!” jeered Harry. He was
+only a year older than Fudge, but pretended to regard
+that youth with amused toleration, and so caused
+Fudge deep annoyance at times.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’ve got eight good ones,” responded Fudge
+sweetly. “If we could only find a fellow to play second
+base, we’d be all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a wonder they don’t put you there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I was offered the position, bu-but I didn’t want
+it. I prefer the outfield. There’s more re-re-responsibility
+there.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re a wonder!” said Harry. “What would you
+do if a ball came your way? Hold your mouth open
+and try to swallow it?”</p>
+
+<p>“You wa-wait and see! If I co-co-couldn’t catch a
+b-b-ball better th-th-than you<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Calm yourself, Fudge! You’re off your trolley
+again! I’ll be around to-morrow night, Gordon. Now
+I’ll have to get busy. Watch Fudge as he goes out,
+will you? Last time he was in he got away with three
+or four pounds of prunes.”</p>
+
+<p>“I took three of the old th-th-th-things,” said Fudge
+bitterly, “and they n-n-nearly killed me!”</p>
+
+<p>They left Harry surrounded by baskets, frowning
+over the order slips in his hand, and made their way
+back to the sidewalk and their wheels. As it was almost
+noon, Gordon decided not to risk his father’s displeasure
+by seeing any more of the fellows before
+dinner, and he and Fudge pedaled home, Fudge still
+sputtering about those prunes.</p>
+
+<p>At a little after four that afternoon Gordon was
+back at Dick’s to report success. All the members of
+the Clearfield Ball Club had agreed to play and to
+attend the organization meeting the next evening—all,
+that is, save Harry Bryan, who was to telephone
+later.</p>
+
+<p>“Now, Dickums, if you’ll write to Billings and tell
+him<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“If <i>I’ll</i> write!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon laughed. “Of course; you’re the manager,
+aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! So I have to attend to the correspondence
+too, do I? It seems to me that you ought to
+write that letter. Bert sent it to you, and you’re captain,
+and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s what I thought,” responded Gordon
+cheerfully, “until I got to thinking it over. Then I
+remembered that you were manager, and, of course,
+managers always attend to arranging contests; and
+there you are. Just tell him we’ll play his team on
+Wednesday the sixteenth, Dickums, at the Point.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I might call on him and tell him about
+it, though, for I’m going over to the Point in the
+morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“You are? What for?”</p>
+
+<p>“To get a job, I hope. You know I got them to
+put up a notice in the hotel over there for me: ‘tutoring
+in French, Mathematics, and English; references;
+terms on request.’ This afternoon a Mrs. Townsend
+called me up by telephone, and she wants me to come
+over in the morning and see about coaching her son.
+He’s going to Rifle Point School in the Fall and is
+weak on English and Math. He’s thirteen, she says.
+She seemed to think the price was all right, but she
+wants me to have a look at the youngster first. Sounded
+as though she was afraid I wouldn’t like him.
+I’d coach a Bengal tiger if I got paid for it. I need
+the money, Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s fine! Then why not see Billings instead
+of writing to him? You could arrange the whole
+thing in five minutes. Do you know where he lives?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, but they can tell me at the hotel, I guess. By
+the way, why do you want to play over there? Why
+not have them come over here?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I saw Mr. Grayson awhile ago and asked
+him if it would be all right if we used the school field,
+and he said it would as far as he was concerned, but
+that he’d just got notice from Mr. Brent that they are
+going to cut the field up pretty soon for building lots.
+I suppose we could use it until they begin to build on
+it, but I haven’t seen Mr. Brent yet, and I thought it
+would be safer to say we’d play them at the Point.
+They’ll probably want another game, and then, if it’s
+all right about the field, we could play them here.”</p>
+
+<p>“But that will leave us without an athletic field!”
+exclaimed Dick, in dismay. “I thought we had a lease
+or something on it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Grayson says not. Says Mr. Brent just agreed
+to let us use it as long as it wasn’t needed for anything
+else. Now he wants it put in the market for
+house lots. Rather tough, isn’t it? I guess we can
+find another field somewhere, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not in town,” said Dick. “We’ll probably have to
+go across the river somewhere. There are plenty of
+fields over there, but they’re as rough as the dickens.
+What did Mr. Grayson say about that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing much. He seemed to think it was up to
+the Athletic Committee.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps it is, but he’s principal, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Shucks, he wouldn’t care a lot if we didn’t have a
+field, I guess!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think that, Gordie. Grayson’s not very
+keen about our athletics, I know, but he’s been pretty
+decent, just the same. We’ll have to get busy right
+away and find a new place. The football fellows will
+want to start practice in something like two months.
+Does Way know about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I saw Grayson after I left Way. I
+don’t believe he does, for he didn’t say anything. He
+will have to get the committee together and have a
+meeting, I guess. Who’s on it now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not this year. There’s Way, and Harry, and
+Bert<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Bert can’t come. I think Will Scott is on it,
+isn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe; he probably is if Way belongs. Well, it’s
+up to Way. I thought I’d ask Mr. Brent if we could
+keep on using the field for a while; or have Morris ask
+him. I dare say he’d be more likely to say yes if Morris
+asks him. Come to think of it, Dickums, as you’re
+manager<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“No, you don’t! I wouldn’t beard old man Brent in
+his den for a hundred dollars! If I’ve got to do that,
+I’ll resign!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, then, I’ll do it!” laughed Gordon. “Or
+I’ll see Morris about it. I don’t see why he needs to
+cut up that field, though. Seems to me there are
+enough houses in this town already.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wants the money, probably. Bet you Jonathan
+Brent would cut up the Garden of Eden for house
+lots if he had it!”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t seem to care a whole lot for Mr. Brent,
+Dickums.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t,” responded Dick emphatically. “We
+wouldn’t be like we are now—as poor as church mice—if
+father hadn’t got mixed up with Mr. Brent in
+one of his real-estate schemes. I’m not saying that
+Mr. Brent was dishonest, Gordie, but he was too sharp
+for dad, and dad got let in for a pile of money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t know that,” said Gordon. “You never
+told me, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No. It was a long time ago, when I was just a
+kid. Dad moved here from Norwalk when I was
+three years old. He had quite a little money—thirteen
+or fourteen thousand dollars it was—and Mr.
+Brent got him to invest it in that South-west Division,
+as they called it. They got hold of a pile of land down
+the river toward the Point. You know; where the picnic
+grove is. They were going to sell it for factory
+sites and there was a railway coming through to connect
+with the Shore Line, and everything was fine—on
+paper. But the bottom fell out of the scheme; the
+factories didn’t come, and the railroad decided not to
+build; and the mortgages were foreclosed; and after
+it was all over Mr. Brent had the whole thing and dad
+had nothing! And it was all legal and above-board,
+too! And that’s why I’ve never had much use for
+Jonathan Brent; nor Morris, either, although Morris
+has never done anything to me.”</p>
+
+<p>“You and he seem to be pretty good friends,” said
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“I know. He<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span> Well, he seems to like me pretty
+well, and you can’t be anything but decent to a fellow
+in that case, can you? I suppose if Jonathan Brent
+wasn’t his father I’d like him well enough. Well, I’ll
+stop in and see this Billings chap to-morrow. It’s
+less trouble than writing a letter, I guess. Wednesday
+the sixteenth, on their own grounds, at—what
+time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Three o’clock, I suppose,” answered Gordon.
+“That will give us plenty of time to get over on the
+two-o’clock car and warm up a bit before the game.
+You might tell him about our field, and say that if they
+want a return game we’ll play it over here if we can
+get the use of the field. By the way, that grandstand
+at the field belongs to the school. We’ll have to move
+that if we get out. I wish Mr. Brent would be satisfied
+with all the money he’s got and not go and take
+our field away from us.”</p>
+
+<p>“So do I. What we want to do, though, is to watch
+out and be sure he doesn’t swipe the grandstand too!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you <i>are</i> rabid!” laughed Gordon. “Still, I
+don’t know that I blame you. I never knew that about
+your father, Dickums.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, don’t repeat it, please. It’s all done with
+now, and there’s no use talking about it. I don’t—very
+often. Only sometimes<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span> Well, I get sort of
+hot under the collar when I think of all the money Jonathan
+Brent has and how awfully hard we have to
+scrabble to get along. Good-bye, Mr. Captain.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-bye, Mr. Manager. I’m not captain, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“You will be,” laughed Dick. “You always are,
+you know!”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c3'>CHAPTER III<br/>A RICH MAN’S SON</h2>
+
+<p>Gordon had doubts of finding Morris Brent
+at home when, shortly after nine o’clock the
+next morning, he walked up the neat artificial-stone
+path to the front door of Brentwood. But
+the maid who responded to his ring assured him that
+Master Morris was in, and led the way to the gray-and-gold
+reception room. He decided to take no
+chances with the spindle-legged, silk-brocaded chairs,
+and took refuge in front of the mantel, from which
+place he viewed the gray satin wall panels and dainty
+luxuries of the apartment with surprise. He didn’t
+have to wait long, however, for he had only just
+reached the conclusion that the room was pretty but
+uncomfortable when footsteps sounded quickly in the
+hall and a boy a year older than he appeared in the
+doorway.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello, Gordon! How are you? Say, what did
+they put you in here for? This room gives me the
+creeps, doesn’t it you? Come on out on the
+piazza.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon followed his host across the hall, through
+a warm-toned, luxurious but decidedly comfortable library
+and out of a French door onto a wide porch that
+was screened and curtained. There were many bright
+rugs and gayly cushioned easy-chairs here; and tables
+with blossoming plants and books and magazines on
+them. From the porch one looked across a carefully
+kept lawn to where a symmetrically clipped hedge bordered
+Louise Street. Mr. Brent owned not only the
+block on which his estate was located, but some eight
+or nine adjoining blocks besides, his property running
+from his back line across Troutman, Lafayette, Main,
+and Common Streets to the river, including, two
+blocks north, the plot of land which for many years
+the High School had used as an athletic field. Mr.
+Brent had laid out the section himself and had named
+the two cross streets after his son and daughter, Morris
+and Louise.</p>
+
+<p>Morris was a good-looking youth, with a self-confident
+air and a somewhat dissatisfied expression. He
+was tall, carried himself well, dressed rather more expensively
+than his companions in high school, and was
+never quite able to forget or allow others to forget that
+he was Jonathan Brent’s son and heir. But, in spite of
+that, he was not unpopular, and if there was any
+snobbishness about him it was unconscious. In fact, there
+were one or two of his acquaintances in Clearfield to
+whom he went out of his way to ingratiate himself.
+Gordon was one and Dick was another. But Gordon
+had never cared to respond more than half-heartedly
+to Morris’ advances, while Dick’s attitude we already
+know.</p>
+
+<p>Morris pulled forward the most comfortable chair
+for his guest, repeated that he was glad to see him,
+and for several minutes gave Gordon no chance to
+state his errand. When he did, however, Morris was
+as much surprised as Dick had been.</p>
+
+<p>“Dad hasn’t mentioned it to me,” he said, with a
+frown. “That’s too bad, isn’t it? I don’t see why he
+needs to cut up that land just now. What’ll we do,
+Gordon, for a place to play?”</p>
+
+<p>“Dick said he supposed we’d have to go across the
+river. That would make it pretty far from school,
+though. But I don’t know of any place in town, do
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>Morris shook his head, and Gordon went on:</p>
+
+<p>“What I wanted to see you about was to ask if you
+thought your father would have any objection to our
+using the field until they began to build on it. I don’t
+think they’ve done anything there yet. I thought maybe
+you wouldn’t mind asking your father, Morris.”</p>
+
+<p>Morris hesitated a moment. “I’ll ask him,” he said,
+at last, “but he and I—well, we aren’t on very good
+terms just now. Honestly, I think it would be better
+if you asked him yourself, Gordon. I’m afraid he’d
+say no to me just to—to be nasty. You see, we had a
+sort of row about an automobile. He kind of promised
+last Christmas that he’d get me a runabout this
+Spring, and when I asked about it he put me off; and
+so I”—Morris grinned—“I went ahead and got Stacey
+to order one for me. It came yesterday, and I told
+dad and he got as mad as a hatter about it. Says I
+can’t have it now. I’m going to, though. I’ve got
+some money in the bank, and Stacey says he’ll wait
+for the rest of it. It’s only six hundred dollars, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Too bad!” murmured Gordon, not very enthusiastically.
+“Maybe he will change his mind, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not he! He isn’t made that way. What are you
+going to do at the field? Play ball?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon told about the letter from Caspar Billings
+and the formation of the ball club. “I suppose,” he
+ended, “you’ll play with the Point fellows?”</p>
+
+<p>Morris shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose so. I
+haven’t heard anything about it yet. Caspar’s a friend
+of mine, though. We don’t move out to the Point
+until the seventeenth this summer. Dad’s full of business
+and as grouchy as the dickens. Sis and I have
+been trying to get mother to spunk up and insist on
+moving right away, but she won’t. Who’s on your
+team, Gordon?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon told him. Morris criticised several of his
+selections and was infinitely amused at the idea of
+Fudge Shaw playing. Gordon had an uneasy feeling
+that Morris perhaps resented not being asked to join.
+But if Morris held any resentment, he didn’t show it.</p>
+
+<p>“We ought to have some good games,” he said
+finally and approvingly. “I dare say Caspar will want
+me to play on his team. You know him, don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon was doubtful. “I think I remember him,”
+he said, “but I’m not sure. What does he look like?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, rather a good-looking chap—big, dark hair,
+plays tennis a lot and is pretty good at it. He lives
+in a cottage near the hotel, the second in the row at
+the left. He’s a dandy chap, Billings. I don’t see,
+though, where he’s going to get enough fellows at the
+Point to make up a nine, unless there are more there
+this year than usual. Perhaps he’s got some fellows
+staying with him. He goes to St. George’s, you know,
+and last year he brought a couple of friends home with
+him for a while.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dick went over to the Point this morning to see
+about coaching a boy who is going to Rifle Point in
+the Fall,” said Gordon. “He’s going to look up
+Billings and tell him we’ll play him a week from Saturday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could Dick do that? Coach, I mean.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. You know he’s about the smartest
+fellow in his class at school. He wants to earn some
+money, and there aren’t many things he can do. I
+hope he gets the job.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. I like Dick. He’s terribly white, isn’t he?
+Gee, if I had a bum hip like his and had to live on
+crutches, I’d—I’d<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” But words failed him. He
+shook his head. “He’s so awfully cheerful. Who is
+the kid he’s going to coach?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve forgotten the name. He told me. Something
+like Prentiss, I think.”</p>
+
+<p>Morris shook his head again. “Don’t know them.
+They must be new. When I get over there, Gordon,
+I’ll see if I can’t drum up some trade for Dick. I
+know about everyone there.” He paused, and then
+added morosely, with a wry smile: “It might be a
+mighty good scheme if I had him coach me a bit. I’ve
+got to take my college exams next year, and I know
+blamed well I won’t pass them.” He shrugged his
+shoulders. “Well, I’ve got another year yet. Do
+you have to go? Stay and play a couple of sets of
+tennis with me. You’ve never tried our court, have
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d like to, but I want to get this business settled.
+I guess I’d better go and see your father about the
+field. I’d like to play, though, some time,” he added,
+as he saw Morris’ face fall. “It looks like a bully
+court.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is. It’s a dandy. Fast as lightning. I haven’t
+played much myself this year, and I’m all out of trim.
+Sis and I had a couple of sets the other day, and she
+pretty nearly licked me.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope your sister is well,” murmured Gordon.
+“And Mrs. Brent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, thanks. Sis ought to be around somewhere.
+Wait till I see.”</p>
+
+<p>He got up and passed into the library, and Gordon
+heard him calling his sister at the stairway. He came
+back in a moment. “She’s coming down,” he announced.
+“Don’t hurry off. Dad will be in his office
+all the morning, I guess. I hope you don’t mind my
+not wanting to ask him, Gordon. I would in a minute,
+only, as I say, we aren’t very chummy just now.”</p>
+
+<p>At that moment Louise Brent came through the
+doorway, and Gordon, who had reseated himself after
+his first start to leave, arose again. She was tall, like
+her brother, but, unlike him, was light in coloring,
+with brown hair that just escaped being yellow and a
+very fair skin and blue eyes. She was not a beauty,
+but she was pretty in spite of irregular features, with a
+lot of animation and a smile that won friends at once.
+She was fifteen; but she looked older, Gordon thought
+as he took the hand she extended.</p>
+
+<p>“I haven’t seen you for a long time, Gordon,” she
+said, as she seated herself on the edge of Morris’ chair.
+“Not since the school dance in January. And then
+you didn’t ask me for a single dance.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon smiled a trifle embarrassedly. “I—I don’t
+dance very well,” he said. “I thought it would be
+kinder to spare you.”</p>
+
+<p>“You didn’t spare Grace Levering,” she laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Grace<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Is awfully nice. I know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t mean that! I meant that—she’s only thirteen—and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m too old?” Louise opened her eyes very
+wide. “But I’m only fifteen, Gordon. How old are
+you? Or isn’t it polite to ask?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fifteen, too,” he laughed. “I guess the reason I
+danced with Grace so much was because I thought she
+wasn’t old enough to be fussy about the way I did it.
+Kind of tough on her, though, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Kind of tough on the rest of us, you mean,” responded
+Louise. “You’ll have to make it up this summer
+by coming to some of our parties at the Point.
+Will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—yes, if you want me to. But, really and
+truly, I’m a fierce dancer, Louise.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he?” She turned to her brother. Morris shook
+his head.</p>
+
+<p>“Search me. I know he can bat a ball like sixty,
+though. I’ve been trying to get him to stay and play
+some tennis, but he won’t. You ask him, sis.”</p>
+
+<p>“Won’t you?” she begged. “The court’s just crying
+to be played on. If you will, I’ll bring you out
+the biggest, coldest pitcher of lemonade, Gordon, you
+ever saw!”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, but—some other time<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“That means never!” she sighed. “I don’t think
+you’re as nice as you used to be. Is he, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s so full of business these days. Say, sis, father’s
+going to cut up the athletic field for building lots.
+What do you think of that?”</p>
+
+<p>“What for?” she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“Search me. It leaves the school in a hole, all
+right.”</p>
+
+<p>“How horribly mean!” said Louise. “It was such
+a nice field, too! I don’t think he ought to do it, Morris,
+and I guess I’ll tell him so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go ahead!” laughed her brother. “It’ll make a
+lot of difference—I don’t think! Gordon came around
+to get me to ask dad to let the fellows use the field
+until he began to cut it up, but I told him that he’d
+better do the asking himself. If I asked he might
+give orders to build a dozen houses on it to-morrow!”</p>
+
+<p>“I know.” Louise nodded. “I wish you’d give up
+the idea of that automobile, Morris. Mother doesn’t
+want you to have it, either.”</p>
+
+<p>“Just because dad made such a fuss,” he grumbled.
+“She was all right before that. I’m going to have it,
+just the same.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you wouldn’t,” she murmured. “Do you
+think he ought to drive an auto, Gordon? Don’t you
+think it’s too dangerous?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” answered Gordon. “I’ve never had
+much experience with automobiles. I suppose, though,
+that if one is careful<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Morris won’t be,” mourned Louise. “He’ll have
+an accident, kill himself, break his arm or something.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, piffle, sis! I can run an automobile as well as
+any chap. I’ve done it. When I get the car you’ll be
+tickled to death, and you’ll want to be riding in it
+every minute.”</p>
+
+<p>Louise shook her head energetically. “No, I shan’t,
+Morris. I’d be scared to death. And I think it would
+be much better for you to wait another year or two.
+Papa won’t like it a bit if you take your money out of
+the bank and spend it on an automobile.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s my money, and I have a right to do as I
+please with it,” responded her brother. “Besides, if
+he’d kept his word<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, Morris, you shouldn’t say things like that!
+Papa never actually told you you could have it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he as much as told me,” muttered Morris.
+“Anyway, I’m going to have it. Stacey would think
+I was a pretty funny sort if I refused to take it after
+he’d got it for me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe he could sell it to someone else,” suggested
+Gordon. “’Most everyone is buying the things
+nowadays. Well, I’ll be going, I guess. Good-bye.
+Good-bye, Louise. I’ll come over some time and have
+that tennis, Morris, if you’ll let me know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come whenever you can, will you? I’m at home
+most of the time; or I shall be until I get my car.”
+And Morris grinned exasperatingly at his sister.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t forget that you’re to come to the Point
+some time and dance every dance with me,” Louise
+reminded, as she and Morris accompanied Gordon to
+the door. “That’s the only apology I’ll accept.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll wish you hadn’t invited me after the first
+dance,” replied the visitor grimly. “But I’ll come if
+you want me to some time. Good-bye.”</p>
+
+<p>On his wheel once more, and spinning down the
+shadow-dappled street, he thought, not without a little
+natural envy, how fine it must be to have as much
+money as the Brents. Morris had spoken of buying a
+six-hundred-dollar automobile in much the same way
+as Gordon might have announced his intention of purchasing
+a new suit of clothes! And yet, on reflection,
+Morris didn’t seem really happy and contented, and
+never had. He always appeared to have a quarrel
+with someone or something. Sometimes it was the
+teachers at High School, who were imposing on him;
+once it had been the baseball coach, Mr. Farrel, who,
+according to Morris, was keeping him off the team
+for spite, and now it was with his father. It would
+seem, then, that the possession of much wealth didn’t
+always bring contentment. There was Dick Levering,
+who was not only poor but a cripple as well, and who
+was absolutely the most cheerful and contented fellow
+of all Gordon’s acquaintances. It was a bit puzzling,
+Gordon thought, as he whirled into E Street and
+headed toward the business section of town.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Jonathan Brent’s office was in the Clearfield
+Trust Company’s Building, opposite the common.
+Gordon left his wheel against the curb and mounted
+the flight of marble stairs. A clerk took his name
+doubtfully and indicated a chair for him to sit in
+while he waited Mr. Brent’s pleasure. As it happened,
+although the mill president was a very busy man, Gordon
+didn’t have to wait long. Almost at once a buzzer
+sounded, the clerk disappeared, returned, and conducted
+Gordon through a door whose ground-glass
+pane was marked “Private.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent’s office looked out across E Street into the
+elm-shaded greenery of the common. An electric fan
+made a soft and pleasant whirring from the top of the
+big desk which, until Gordon had crossed the room,
+hid Mr. Brent from view. A chair was set at the end
+of the desk and into this, not very confidently, Gordon
+lowered himself while Mr. Brent, without looking up,
+ran his eye over a letter in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>Jonathan Brent was a small man, small and narrow,
+with a lean and wrinkled face, shrewd but not
+unkindly, and a pair of gimlet-like, blue-gray eyes.
+His face was clean-shaven and the grizzled brown
+hair had retreated until the top of his head was as
+bald and shining as the white-enameled newel-post at
+the foot of the Merricks’ stairway. His mouth was
+thin and set in a firm, straight line, a line that never
+altered as, presently, he laid down the paper in his
+hand and raised his gaze to Gordon’s.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, what do you want, my boy?” he asked, in
+a quick but not unpleasant voice.</p>
+
+<p>“I came to see you about the athletic field, Mr.
+Brent,” responded Gordon. “I heard yesterday that
+you intend to cut it up for building lots, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite right. What of it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, sir, you see we’ve been using it for baseball,
+and some of us are getting up a nine to play this summer,
+and I wondered if you’d let us use it until you got
+ready to—to build on it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! I see. What’s your name? Herrick?”</p>
+
+<p>“Merrick, sir; Gordon Merrick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Ellis Merrick’s boy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know your father. Are you in the High School?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Know my boy?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. I—I went to see him this morning. I
+thought maybe he would ask you for me, but—he<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon floundered, and a tiny smile moved the corners
+of Mr. Brent’s straight lips.</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t care to, eh? Well, Merrick, you’re
+welcome to use the field as long as you don’t interfere
+with the engineers or workmen. I believe they’re
+going to survey there for the street in a week or so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, Mr. Brent.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I dare say you boys are going to miss
+that playground.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, we are. It—it’s been a fine place for us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Sorry I can’t let you have the use of it
+longer, but I need the ground. I suppose you can find
+another field without much trouble.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think so,” agreed Gordon doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>“You and Morris friends?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. That is, we—we know each other pretty
+well.”</p>
+
+<p>“Only pretty well, eh? What’s the matter? Don’t
+you like him?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, sir, but—but we don’t see each other
+much.”</p>
+
+<p>“Doesn’t he like you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think so. He seems to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did he say anything to you about an automobile,
+Merrick?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, he mentioned it.” Gordon began to wish
+himself away.</p>
+
+<p>“Ever drive one of the things?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Like to?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I guess so. I think it would be fun to—to
+have one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why doesn’t your father get you one?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think he could afford it, and, besides<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes? Besides?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess he wouldn’t think I was—was old enough
+to run it.”</p>
+
+<p>“How old are you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fifteen, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Morris is sixteen. Think your father would let
+you have one if you were a year older and he could
+afford it?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon shook his head. “I don’t believe so, Mr.
+Brent.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t, either. Well, help yourself to the field,
+Merrick. Glad to have met you. Good day.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c4'>CHAPTER IV<br/>THE TEAM ELECTS ITS CAPTAIN</h2>
+
+<p>There was a full attendance at the organization
+meeting which assembled in the Merricks’
+front parlor that evening. Besides
+Gordon himself, Dick Lovering, Fudge Shaw, Harry
+Bryan, who had won his father’s consent, and Tom
+Haley, all of whom we have met, there was Lansing
+White, otherwise known as “Lanny,” Jack Tappen,
+Pete Robey, Will Scott, and Curtis Wayland. Curtis
+and Will were inseparable companions. Damon and
+Pythias would have been excellent, if hackneyed,
+nicknames for the pair. Dick had once remarked in
+his quiet way, when the two chums had appeared arm
+in arm on the ball field: “Where there’s a Will there’s
+a Way.” Thereafter Curtis was called Way, and
+Dick’s pun was handed over to an appreciative public
+in the “Caught-in-the-Corridor” column of <i>The Purple</i>,
+the High School monthly. Way and Will were
+both of an age, which was sixteen, both of the same
+height to a fraction of an inch, and, perhaps by reason
+of having been together ever since they were in
+kindergarten, were so much alike in general appearance,
+manners, and speech that they were always mistaken
+for brothers and not infrequently for twins.
+Way was a little heavier in build than Will, and had
+dark brown hair, whereas Will’s was light. For the
+rest they were much the same, with brown eyes, short
+noses, and round, freckled faces. Good, healthy, jolly,
+normal boys both.</p>
+
+<p>Pete Robey was fifteen, a lank, dark-eyed fellow,
+rather diffident and quiet. Jack Tappen was only
+fourteen, but he was big for his years. He was not
+at all diffident. In fact, Jack had a pretty good opinion
+of himself. He was a clever ball player, and, for
+that matter, did many things about as well as the older
+fellows with whom he associated.</p>
+
+<p>Lansing White, or Lanny, as he was always called,
+was fifteen. Every one who knew him would have
+assured you earnestly that Lansing White was destined
+for great things. Perhaps they were right. At
+all events, he had the fine faculty of making friends on
+the instant and holding them. There wasn’t a kinder-hearted
+fellow in school, nor one more thoughtful of
+others. If a ballot had been taken for the most popular
+student, Lanny would have won, hands-down, over
+many a fellow far more prominent in school affairs.
+He caught for the school nine, played a fine game at
+left halfback on the football team, and regularly won
+his five points in each of the sprints at the track meetings
+with Springdale High School.</p>
+
+<p>In appearance he was rather striking by reason of
+his hair, which was as near the color of ripe flax as
+hair ever gets, and his eyes which were so dark a
+brown that they looked black. The contrast between
+light hair and dark eyes was rather startling. He was
+always a little too lean, his parents thought, but his
+leanness was quite healthy and was due, probably, to
+the fact that he was always in training for something.</p>
+
+<p>The nine members of the Clearfield Ball Club sat
+around the parlor, occupying every available chair and
+couch, and discussed the project exhaustively and with
+enthusiasm. They all agreed that it was the bounden
+duty of someone to humble the pride of those Rutter’s
+Point chaps, to whom they had long been in the habit
+of referring as the Silk Stocking Brigade; and they
+didn’t see but what the duty could be performed by
+them as well as by any others. Jack Tappen thought
+they could attend to it a little better than any others,
+and so declared. That point agreed on, they discussed
+ways and means. Everyone there except Fudge
+and Pete Robey had a High School uniform which it
+would, they decided, be quite permissible to wear.
+Fudge declared that he would buy a uniform, and Pete
+was sure he could borrow one. Gordon’s announcement
+that Dick had been tendered and had accepted
+the position of manager met with acclaim, and Will
+and Way, in the same breath, demanded a speech.
+Dick declined to address the meeting, contenting himself
+with reminding the turbulent pair that as manager
+he had the power to fine them for misconduct. At
+which Will and Way, pretending to be much alarmed,
+subsided. It was agreed that every member was to
+pay his own car-fares when the team journeyed from
+home, and that the manager’s expenses were to be provided
+for by an assessment on each of one-ninth of
+the necessary amount. Dick claimed the floor, there to
+state that it would probably not be necessary for the
+others to provide his expenses, and that in any case he
+would pay his own way unless the team journeyed a
+long distance.</p>
+
+<p>The name of the team was decided on—the Clearfield
+Baseball Club. Harry Bryan was in favor of
+something with more “snap” to it, something like the
+Clearfield Pirates or the Clearfield Giants, but he was
+defeated. Dick, who had taken the proceedings in
+hand, then announced that the election of a captain
+was in order, and Tom Haley, Fudge, and Jack Tappen
+nominated Gordon in unison. The others signified
+approval noisily. Gordon, however, insisted on
+being heard.</p>
+
+<p>“You fellows don’t have to make me captain,” he
+protested, “just because I started the thing going. It
+wasn’t my idea, anyhow; it was Bert Cable’s. I’ll be
+captain if you really want me, but I think some of the
+rest of you would be better, and I nominate Tom.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nominate all you like,” grunted Tom Haley. “I
+decline.”</p>
+
+<p>“I nominate Lanny,” said Will Scott.</p>
+
+<p>“Second the nomination!” piped up Way.</p>
+
+<p>“Much obliged, fellows,” said Lanny, “but I’d
+rather not. Let’s make Gordon captain and not be
+scared out of it. All in favor make a lot of noise!”</p>
+
+<p>There was a lot of noise, a very great deal of noise,
+and Dick laughingly declared Gordon elected.
+“Speech! Speech!” shouted the irrepressible Fudge,
+beating a tattoo on the hardwood floor with his heels.</p>
+
+<p>“Shut up, Fudge! And stop denting the floor with
+those hob-nailed shoes of yours. I saw Mr. Brent this
+morning, and asked him if we could use the field as
+long as it wasn’t wanted for anything else, and he said
+we could. So I propose that if the Point plays us a
+return game we play on our own grounds. Now,
+about practice. You fellows know we’ve got to get
+together and have a good lot of real work before we
+run up against those Point fellows. So I say let’s
+have practice every afternoon next week at four-thirty.
+Maybe after next week every other day will do, but
+we don’t want to let those silk-sox chaps beat us, and
+so we’ve got to practice hard. Will all you fellows
+agree to come to practice every afternoon? That
+doesn’t mean Tom, because he’s got a lot of work to
+do, and, besides, we don’t need him so much. He will
+come as often as he can. But the rest of us ought to
+get out every day.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right,” agreed Jack Tappen. “If we’re going
+into this thing, let’s go into it with both feet.
+There’s no reason I can see why we shouldn’t have as
+good a baseball team as there is in this part of the
+state. We all know the game pretty well<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you right-fielder!” exclaimed Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>And most of us have played together this
+Spring. And with Gordon for captain we ought to
+just everlastingly wipe up the county!”</p>
+
+<p>Loud applause greeted this enthusiastic statement,
+and Fudge began his tattoo again, but was cautioned
+by a well-aimed pillow which, narrowly avoiding a
+vase on a side table, eclipsed his joyous countenance
+for an instant.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess,” said Lanny, “that we can all get out and
+practice; can’t we, fellows? In fact, Gordie, it might
+be a good plan to have it understood that any fellow
+not turning up, without a real, genuine excuse, is to
+pay a fine.”</p>
+
+<p>“How much?” demanded Fudge anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Half a dollar,” suggested Will.</p>
+
+<p>“A quarter,” said Jack.</p>
+
+<p>“A quarter’s enough, I guess,” said Dick. “How
+about it? Everyone agree?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who’s going to decide whether the excuse is a
+good one?” inquired Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Dick,” said Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>Fudge sighed with relief. “All right. Dick’s a
+friend of mine.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then Wednesday at four-thirty, fellows,” said
+Gordon, “and bring your bats. By the way, there’s
+one thing we’ve forgotten: We’ll have to buy balls.
+Suppose we all chip in a half to start with?”</p>
+
+<p>That was agreed to, and the meeting was served
+with lemonade and cakes and adjourned, everyone departing
+save Dick, Lanny, and Fudge. These, with
+Gordon, went out to the porch and took possession of
+the front steps. There was a fine big moon riding in
+the sky, and, since Clearfield was economical and did
+not illuminate the streets in the residence districts
+when the moon was on duty, it had no competition.
+The leafy shadows of the big elm fell across the porch,
+blue-black, trembling as a tiny breeze moved the
+branches above. Dick leaned against a pillar and laid
+his crutches between his knees, and the others grouped
+about him. Perhaps the refreshments had worked a
+somnolent effect on them, or perhaps the great
+lopsided moon stared them into silence. At all events,
+nothing was said for a minute or two, even Fudge,
+usually an extremely chatty youth, having for once no
+observations to offer. It was Gordon who finally
+broke the stillness.</p>
+
+<p>“Some moon,” he said dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>“Great!” agreed Lanny. “You can see the man in
+it plainly to-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Supposing,” said Fudge thoughtfully, “supposing
+you were terribly big, miles and miles high, and you
+had a frightfully huge bat, couldn’t you get a
+d-d-dandy swipe at it!”</p>
+
+<p>“You could make a home run, Fudge!” laughed
+Lanny. “Only you’d have to hit pretty quick. Why,
+if you were tall enough to reach the moon, it would
+be going past you faster than one of Tom’s straight
+ones, Fudge!”</p>
+
+<p>“Quite a bit faster,” agreed Gordon. “Still, it
+would be ‘in the groove,’ and if you took a good
+swing and got your eye on it you could everlastingly
+bust up the game!”</p>
+
+<p>“I think,” replied Fudge, who had literary yearnings,
+“I’ll write a story about a giant who did that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there are some pretty good hitters among
+the ‘Giants,’” commented Dick gravely. Fudge
+snorted.</p>
+
+<p>“You know wh-wh-what I mean!” he said severely.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course he does,” agreed Lanny. “Dick, you
+oughtn’t to poke fun at Fudge’s great thoughts.
+Fudge is a budding genius, Fudge is, and if you’re
+not careful you’ll discourage him. Remember his
+story about the fellow who won the mile race in two
+minutes and forty-one seconds, Dick? That was a
+peach of a<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t!” declared Fudge passionately. “The
+p-p-printer made a mistake! I’ve told you that a
+th-th-th-thousand t-t-times! I wrote it<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t spoil it,” begged Dick. “It was a much better
+story the way <i>The Purple</i> printed it. Any fellow
+might run the mile in four-something, but to do it
+under three shows real ability, Fudge. Besides, what’s
+a minute or two in a story?”</p>
+
+<p>“Aw, cu-cu-cut it out!” grumbled Fudge. “You
+f-f-fellows m-m-m-m<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll never do it, Fudge,” said Gordon sympathetically.
+“I’ve noticed that if you don’t make it the
+first two or three times you<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>M-make me tired!” concluded Fudge breathlessly
+but triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p>“Snappy work!” approved Lanny. “If at first you
+don’t succeed<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“T-t-try, try again,” assisted Gordon. Fudge muttered
+something both unintelligible and uncomplimentary,
+and Gordon turned to Dick: “How did you get
+on with Mrs. Thingamabob at the Point, Dick?” he
+asked. “What’s the kid like?”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. The name is Townsend. They’re at
+the hotel. The boy is thirteen and he’s—he’s a bit
+spoiled, I guess. There’s an older brother, too, a fellow
+about seventeen. He confided to me that I’d have
+a beast of a time with the youngster. His name—the
+brother’s—is Loring Townsend. Anybody know
+him?”</p>
+
+<p>There was no response, and Dick continued:</p>
+
+<p>“He seemed rather a nice chap, big brother did. As
+for the kid—his name is Harold, by the way<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Fancy names, what?” said Gordon. “Loring and
+Harold.”</p>
+
+<p>“No fancier than your own,” commented Fudge,
+still a trifle disgruntled. “Gordon! Gee, that’s a sweet
+name for a grown-up fellow!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not as sweet as Fudge, though,” answered Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s not my n-n-name!”</p>
+
+<p>“There, you’re getting him excited again,” said
+Lanny soothingly. “Move out of the moonlight,
+Fudge. It’s affecting your disposition. What about
+the kid, Dick? Is he the one you’re going to tutor?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; he’s entered for Rifle Point in the Autumn,
+and he’s way behind on two or three things. The
+worst of it is that he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic
+about catching up. I guess I’ll have my work cut out
+for me. The big brother told me that I was to take
+no nonsense from young Harold, and that he’d back
+me up, but—I don’t know. I guess Mrs. Townsend
+wouldn’t approve of harsh measures. She’s trying her
+best to spoil the kid, I’d say. I’m to go over five mornings
+a week, beginning Monday.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m glad I don’t have to do it,” commented Gordon.
+“I’ll bet the kid is a young terror, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled. “He is—something of the sort. But
+I guess he and I will get on all right after a while.
+And if he’s got it in him to learn, he will learn,” Dick
+added grimly. “That is, unless his mother<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s bound to,” said Lanny. “They all do. Inside
+of a week she’ll be telling you that you’re working
+her darling too hard.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know so much about it?” challenged
+Fudge. “Anyone would think you were a hundred
+years old!”</p>
+
+<p>Lanny laughed. “I’ve kept my eyes open, Fudge,
+sweet child. Mothers are pretty fine institutions; no
+fellow should be without one; but they are most of
+them much too easy on us. And you know that as well
+as I do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mine isn’t,” murmured Fudge regretfully. “She’s
+worse than my father at making me do things!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, well, you’re an exceptional case,” said Gordon
+gently. “When a fellow shows criminal tendencies
+like yours, Fudge<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, writing stories at your age! You ought to
+be ashamed!” Lanny spoke with deep severity. Fudge
+only chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>“Some day,” he announced gleefully, “I’m going to
+write a story and put you fellows all into it. Then
+you’ll wish you hadn’t been so fresh. The only thing
+is”—and his voice fell disconsolately—“I don’t suppose,
+if I told what I know about you, I could get it
+published!”</p>
+
+<p>“Deal gently with us, Fudge,” begged Dick humbly.
+“Remember, we used to be friends. I must be
+getting along, fellows. Coming over to-morrow,
+Gordie?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’ll drop around in the morning. We’ve got
+to get busy and send out some challenges. Who can
+we get to play with us, Lanny, besides Lesterville and,
+maybe, Plymouth?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I think there are plenty of teams,
+though, if we can find them.”</p>
+
+<p>“They have a team at Logan,” said Fudge, “but I
+guess they’re older than we are.”</p>
+
+<p>“What do we care?” asked Gordon. “Logan’s a
+good way off, though, and I suppose it would cost like
+the dickens to get there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Make them come over here,” suggested Lanny.</p>
+
+<div align='center'>
+<img alt='' id='i1' src='images/illus-054.jpg' />
+<p style='width:349px'>“‘Good-night,’ responded Gordon and Fudge”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>“Yes, but then they’d want their expenses guaranteed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” observed Dick, “why couldn’t we
+charge admission to some of the games after we got
+started? I dare say quite a lot of folks would pay a
+quarter to see a good game.”</p>
+
+<p>“They might,” conceded Lanny. “We could try it,
+anyway. If we could get, say, a hundred admissions,
+we’d have twenty-five dollars, and then we could pay
+the expenses of any team around here. That’s a bully
+idea, Dick. As a manager you’re all to the good.”</p>
+
+<p>“I thank you,” replied Dick, setting his crutches under
+his arms. “We’ll talk it over to-morrow. You
+come over, too, Lanny; and Fudge if he is not in the
+throes of literary composition.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll walk around with you,” said Lanny. “It’s too
+bully a night to go to bed, anyway. Good-night, fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-night,” responded Gordon and Fudge. “Good-night, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>They watched the two as long as they were in sight
+in the white radiance of the moon, and then:</p>
+
+<p>“They’re two of the finest fellows in the world,”
+said Fudge warmly. “And wouldn’t Dick be a wonder
+if he was like the rest of us, Gordie?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y—yes,” replied Gordon thoughtfully, “only—sometimes
+I think that maybe if Dick was like the rest
+of us, Fudge, he might not be the splendid chap
+he is.”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge objected to that, but afterward, returning
+home by way of the back fence, he thought it over.
+“I suppose,” he told himself, as he paused on his porch
+for a final look at the moon, “what Gordie means is
+that tribulations ennoble our characters.” That struck
+him as a fine phrase, and he made a mental note of it.
+Still later, as he lay in bed with the moonlight illumining
+his room, he began to plan a perfectly corking
+story around the phrase, with Dick as the hero. Unfortunately,
+perhaps, for American literature, sleep
+claimed him before he had completed it.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c5'>CHAPTER V<br/>DICK VISITS THE POINT</h2>
+
+<p>On Wednesday the Clearfield Baseball Club reported
+for practice. There was a full attendance,
+with the exception of Tom Haley.
+Gordon confined the hour’s work to fielding, however,
+and Tom’s absence was not felt. Fudge had purchased
+a brand-new High School uniform and Pete
+Robey had been lucky enough to borrow one from a
+boy who had played on the team several years before.
+As the shirts and caps held only the letter “C,” there
+was nothing misrepresentative about the gray uniforms.
+Of course, the fact that the C was purple and
+that the stockings were of the same royal hue might
+lead one to mistake the team for the High School nine;
+but Gordon had consulted the principal, Mr. Grayson,
+in the matter, and Mr. Grayson had given it as his
+opinion that, so long as they did not pretend to be the
+High School team, there could be no harm in wearing
+their school uniforms.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the fellows had not played since the final
+game with Springdale, nearly a month before, and
+were consequently rather out of practice. Muscles
+were stiff, and that first day’s work only produced soreness.
+But by Saturday the fellows were pegging the
+ball around with their old-time ginger and running
+and sliding with their accustomed agility. Tom
+pitched to the batters on Friday, and the result proved
+that batting practice was far from being a waste of
+time. Even Gordon, who had headed the batting list
+that Spring, found that his eye was bad and that he
+could connect with Tom’s easy offerings scarcely better
+than the tail-enders.</p>
+
+<p>Fudge plunged into the business with heart and soul,
+determined to make himself not only a useful member
+of the outfield but a regular Ty Cobb or Home-Run
+Baker at the bat. I regret to have to state that
+for some time Fudge’s fielding was not at all spectacular
+and that he never—or at least never that summer—threatened
+to dispute Mr. Cobb’s supremacy with the
+stick. But they didn’t expect great things from Fudge;
+and as time went on he developed a very clever judgment
+in the matter of fly balls and even became able to
+throw with some accuracy to the infield.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, Dick had entered into correspondence
+with some half dozen baseball teams in not too distant
+towns, and already a game had been scheduled
+with Lesterville, who, to Dick’s surprise and satisfaction,
+offered to pay Clearfield’s expenses if it would
+visit Lesterville. Manager Lovering promptly agreed
+and the date of the contest was fixed for the second
+Saturday following the Rutter’s Point game. On Friday
+morning Dick and Caspar Billings again met and
+completed arrangements. Caspar, a boy of Dick’s
+own age, took a great liking to the Clearfield manager,
+and insisted on his staying to luncheon with him on
+that occasion, and it was on the Billings’ veranda,
+within a stone’s throw of the waves, that the two
+talked it all over.</p>
+
+<p>Caspar was a fine-looking youth, rather large but
+well conditioned, with dark hair and eyes, a ready
+smile, and a jovial laugh. He lived in New York, but
+had been spending his summers at the Point for several
+years. Dick met Caspar’s mother and two older
+sisters at luncheon, but Mr. Billings was not present,
+and Dick gathered that he remained in New York
+save for an occasional week-end. When Caspar explained
+that Dick was tutoring Harold Townsend, Mrs.
+Billings shook her head pessimistically.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid,” she said, “you’ll find him rather difficult.
+He isn’t exactly what I’d call a nice-dispositioned
+boy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come, mother, don’t discourage Lovering at the
+start,” laughed Caspar. “We all know that the kid’s
+horribly spoiled, but then Lovering isn’t going to be a
+governess to him!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t want to discourage him, dear, but I thought
+it only right he should know that—well, if he isn’t very
+successful, it won’t be altogether his fault. Mrs.
+Townsend is a dear woman, but I can’t admire the
+way she has brought up that boy.”</p>
+
+<p>“His brother has already warned me,” replied Dick,
+with a smile. “I’m prepared for the worst. So far,
+Harold has behaved very well. He doesn’t like to
+study much, but he hasn’t—well, lain down in the
+shafts yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“He will, though,” laughed Caspar. “And if you
+don’t keep a tight rein he will bust the shafts! That
+brother of his is a nice chap, though. By the way, he’s
+going to play first base for us, Lovering.”</p>
+
+<p>“Who is your pitcher?” asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“I—we aren’t quite sure. We expect it will be Mason,
+but he hasn’t come yet. If he doesn’t show up
+we’ll have to find some one else. You know Morris
+Brent, don’t you? He’s on the team, too. Then
+there’s Pink Northrop and Jim House and Gilbert
+Chase and Charlie Leary and—let’s see; oh, yes, Billy
+Houghton. And Mason, if he gets here in time. How
+many’s that? Never mind. I dare say I’ve forgotten
+one or two. I guess we’ll average a year or so older
+than you chaps, but you have been playing together,
+and I guess that will equalize things. That field over
+behind the hotel isn’t the best in the world, but it’s not
+bad in the infield.”</p>
+
+<p>“What position do you play?” asked Dick, when
+they were back on the veranda.</p>
+
+<p>“Third usually. I’m not particular. I’m not much
+of a player, but I get a lot of fun out of it. I’ve tried
+two years running for the team at school and haven’t
+made it yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“What school do you go to?”</p>
+
+<p>“St. George’s. We turn out some pretty fair ball
+teams there. I’m going to try again next Spring.
+It’s my last year, and if I don’t make it then I’m a
+goner.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose you’re going to college, though?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; my father doesn’t want me to. Says he needs
+me with him in the office. I don’t mind—very much.
+Of course, I’d like to go; ’most every fellow I know at
+school is going. Maybe father will change his mind
+before Spring. What about you, Lovering?”</p>
+
+<p>“College?” Dick shook his head. “I’d like it
+mighty well, too, but it costs too much. Funny how
+fellows who can go don’t care about it. There’s Morris
+Brent. His father’s crazy to have him go to college.
+He tells Morris he can have his pick of them all.
+Morris doesn’t want to go a bit; and he won’t, I guess,
+if he doesn’t brace up.”</p>
+
+<p>“Exams, you mean?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick nodded. “Morris is always in trouble with
+his studies.”</p>
+
+<p>“His father’s a bit of a Tartar, isn’t he?” asked
+Caspar. “I’ve only met him once or twice, but he
+seemed sort of cross-grained.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I know he and Morris are always
+at outs about one thing or another. Just now, I hear,
+it’s an automobile. Morris wants one, and his father
+says he can’t have it. Do you know him very well?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not very. We’ve seen each other quite a little for
+several summers, but we aren’t awfully chummy. I
+don’t quite<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” Caspar paused, with a puzzled
+frown. “If he’d forget that his father has a lot of
+money, he’d get on better with fellows here. I like
+his sister, though. She’s an awfully nice, jolly kid.
+And his mother’s mighty nice, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, so I’ve heard. I don’t know them. Well, I
+must get along. We will be over here in time to begin
+the game at three on Saturday, Billings. I’ll talk to
+Gordon about the umpire, but I’m pretty sure the chap
+you speak of will be satisfactory to us. Thanks for
+being so kind. Will you say good-bye to your mother
+and sisters, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right,” replied Caspar warmly. “Hope
+you’ll come around often, Lovering. See you Wednesday,
+anyway.” He watched Dick’s deft manipulation
+of his crutches anxiously. Finally: “I say, it’s a long
+walk to the trolley. Let me take you over, won’t you?
+We have a sort of a horse and cart here, and it won’t
+take a minute to hitch up.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, thanks; I like to walk,” replied Dick, with a
+smile. “Maybe you wouldn’t call it walking, though;
+perhaps I ought to say that I like to ‘crutch.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Call it what you like,” responded Caspar heartily,
+“you certainly do it mighty well, Lovering!”</p>
+
+<p>Dick reached the trolley station in ample time for
+the two-forty-five car back to Clearfield, and on the
+way his thoughts dwelt largely on Master Harold
+Townsend. Master Harold was a good deal of a
+problem. So far, as Dick had told Mrs. Billings, the
+boy had behaved very decently, but Dick knew quite
+well that it was principally because he was still in some
+awe of his tutor. That awe would soon wear off, for
+there wasn’t enough difference in the ages of the two
+to allow Dick to keep the upper hand very long. Then,
+as Dick realized, there’d be trouble. Unfortunately,
+he could not, he felt, count on the boy’s mother to back
+him up, for that lady was lamentably weak where her
+youngest son was concerned. Of course, Dick might
+keep on drawing his wages all summer and nothing
+would be said, but he didn’t intend to do that unless he
+was earning them. And it wasn’t going to be an easy
+matter to earn them as soon as Harold got over his
+present diffidence and the slight enthusiasm with which
+Dick had managed to imbue him. The money meant
+a good deal to Dick, and he hated to think of losing it,
+but one thing was certain: As soon as he failed to
+make progress with Harold he would quit. Perhaps
+he would find another pupil, he reflected more hopefully,
+although so far only Mrs. Townsend had replied
+to his application.</p>
+
+<p>Just then, his gaze wandering along the flying landscape,
+he caught sight of a small blue runabout automobile
+trying desperately to keep pace with the trolley
+car. The road was a good three hundred yards away,
+and it was not possible to make out with any certainty
+the identity of the lone figure in the blue car, but Dick
+was pretty sure that the daring driver was Morris
+Brent. If so, he had, then, overruled his father in the
+matter, thought Dick. It wasn’t like Mr. Brent to
+change his mind, either. In any case, and whoever
+was driving the runabout, that light vehicle was plunging
+along the none too smooth road at a pace that
+brought Dick’s heart into his mouth more than once
+and attracted the concerned attention of all the occupants
+of the trolley car. Several times, as it seemed,
+the runabout narrowly avoided collision with the white
+fence which ran beside the dirt road, and Dick was
+heartily relieved when, presently, a team approached
+from the direction of Clearfield, and the driver of the
+automobile, recognizing the futility of trying to pass
+at his present reckless speed, slowed down and was
+lost to sight from the car.</p>
+
+<p>Dick mentioned the incident to Gordon at practice
+that afternoon, but Gordon was unable to say whether
+Morris had bought the automobile he had spoken of.
+“He said he was going to, though, whether his father
+wanted him to or not. Said he had some money of his
+own and that Stacey, the agent on Oak Street, would
+wait for the rest. If his father finds it out, he will
+be hopping mad, I’ll bet.”</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t take him long to find it out,” replied Dick
+dryly. “At least two dozen persons saw him to-day.
+Someone’s pretty sure to speak of it. The idiot was
+driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the way Morris would drive,” said Gordon.
+“By the way, there’s a meeting of the Athletic Committee
+called for next Saturday night in Assembly Hall
+to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says
+he doesn’t see how we’re going to get a field without
+paying for it, and we haven’t any money to do that.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s tough luck,” replied Dick. “Have they any
+field in sight?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think so. Will said something about a piece
+of land on the way to the Point, near the picnic
+ground. Do you know what he means?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; but I guess there’s plenty of land there. I
+don’t believe it’s very level. I suppose beggars mustn’t
+be choosers, however.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think it’s mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that
+field away from us!” said Gordon scowlingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you tell him so the other day?” Dick asked innocently.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon laughed. “No, I forgot to! Come on and
+let’s get these fellows started. Tom, will you pitch at
+the net for a while?”</p>
+
+<p>“Shall I tell Billings it’s all right about the umpire,
+Gordie?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; we don’t care who umps as long as he knows
+how. If they play us again, we’ll have the choice then.
+Now then, fellows, get your batting eyes! Don’t be
+too easy with us, Tom. Speed ’em over, old scout!”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c6'>CHAPTER VI<br/>CLEARFIELD PLAYS THE POINT</h2>
+
+<p>Clearfield boarded the two-fifteen trolley
+car on Wednesday and set out for Rutter’s
+Point in high spirits. They had intended taking
+the two-o’clock car, but Harry Bryan and Fudge
+had failed to arrive at the starting point on time.
+Harry claimed business affairs as his reason for tardiness,
+but Fudge’s excuse was both vague and involved,
+and Gordon informed him that the next time he failed
+to be on time he would be left behind. Fudge smiled
+dreamily.</p>
+
+<p>The team in their gray uniforms with purple stockings
+presented a very natty appearance. To be sure,
+some of the stockings were pretty well faded and several
+of the suits were somewhat stained, but on the
+whole the players passed muster very well. They took
+possession of the first two seats on the car and had a
+very happy and fairly noisy time of it. Dick and
+Gordon got their heads together over the batting order
+and rearranged it for the third time. When it was
+finally fixed to their liking it was as follows: Bryan,
+2b; Scott, 3b; Merrick, 1b; Wayland, l. f.; Tappen,
+r. f.; Robey, ss.; White, c.; Shaw, c. f.; Haley, p.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll try it that way,” said Gordon, “and see how
+it goes. Maybe we’d better put Jack after me, though.
+What do you think?”</p>
+
+<p>“We had it that way, and you thought we’d better
+change it,” answered Dick patiently.</p>
+
+<p>“I know, but—but I guess he ought to follow me,
+Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” said Dick, with a smile, “who’s manager
+here?”</p>
+
+<p>“You are,” replied Gordon, a trifle sheepishly.</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I just wanted to know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then—you think<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I think the batting order is going to stay just as it
+is!”</p>
+
+<p>They reached the field shortly after half-past two,
+and found a handful of spectators from the hotel and
+cottages already seated in the shade of the little row
+of trees behind the third-base line. The Point team
+was not in evidence, and Gordon quickly distributed
+his players over the diamond and started warming up.
+Five minutes later the rival team appeared by ones
+and twos, and Caspar Billings sought Dick where he
+was watching the performance of his charges. When
+Gordon came in from first base, Dick introduced the
+rival captains and they shook hands. Other introductions
+followed, but several of the Point fellows were
+already known to the Clearfield members. Clearfield
+gave up the diamond to her opponents at ten minutes
+to three, and watched their practice. The Point team
+was not in agreement, it appeared, as to a uniform.
+Every player wore togs of some sort, but at least a
+half-dozen schools were represented, and there were
+stockings of about every color in the solar spectrum in
+evidence. The umpire was named Vokes, and was a
+college man who was serving as a clerk at the hotel.
+Gordon decided that while Mr. Vokes’ sympathies
+might be with Rutter’s Point he was not the sort to
+let them affect his decisions. Also, Gordon reflected,
+unless he was very much mistaken, Vokes knew baseball
+from A to Z. As it turned out, Gordon was not
+mistaken, and Mr. Vokes’ umpiring was perhaps the
+most perfect feature of that far from perfect contest.</p>
+
+<p>Clearfield, as the visiting team, went to bat first.
+Dick, who had been given the Point batting list by a
+youth who was to score for the home team, was relieved
+to find that Mason was not set down as a
+pitcher. Dick didn’t know a thing about Mason, but
+he somehow had got the impression that Mason was
+something a bit unusual. Evidently he had not arrived
+in time for to-day’s game. The pitcher whom
+the Point presented was named Porter. He looked
+capable and wore a Lawrenceville cap with what Dick
+took to be the second team insignia over the visor.</p>
+
+<p>The Point team averaged perhaps a year and a half
+more than the visiting nine, and was almost entirely
+composed of players from well-known preparatory
+schools. As, however, they had never performed together
+before as a team, save in one or two desultory
+practice games with a nine made up of hotel employees,
+Dick had hopes of taking their measure to-day.</p>
+
+<p>Some seventy or eighty onlookers were gathered
+together on the grass behind the third base line, prepared
+to root for the Pointers, when Porter delivered
+the first ball to Harry Bryan. It was a pretty hot afternoon,
+for what breeze there was came from the landward
+side of the sun-smitten field. Two settees had
+been placed on the first-base side of the plate for the
+accommodation of the visitors, and here Dick and the
+others sat in the full glare of the afternoon sun, Dick
+perspiring over his score book and the rest watching
+interestedly the behavior of the rival pitcher. The
+field was fairly level about the infield, but further out
+it rolled a good deal and was covered with rough,
+bunchy grass.</p>
+
+<p>Porter disposed of Harry Bryan without trouble,
+and Will Scott took his place at the plate. Will beat
+out a slow grounder to shortstop and went to
+second on Gordon’s bunt down third base line. But
+Gordon was out at first and Curtis Wayland let the
+third strike get by him.</p>
+
+<p>Rutter’s Point led off with a clean two-base hit
+by Caspar Billings and followed it with a neat sacrifice
+bunt that placed the captain on third. But
+he died there a few minutes later, for Tom Haley
+struck out Morris Brent easily and made the next
+man pop up a fly to Pete Robey.</p>
+
+<p>The second inning passed without a score, but in
+the first of the third, after Tom Haley had struck
+out, Harry Bryan drove a long fly into right field
+and reached second when the fielder misjudged it.
+Will Scott walked and Gordon hit clean past third,
+Harry scoring the first run and leaving third and
+second occupied. Way went out, second to first.
+Jack Tappen put himself in a hole and then emerged
+brilliantly with a smash that was too hot for the
+pitcher. Will scored and Jack reached first safely.
+With Gordon on third, Jack tried a steal. To his surprise
+the Point catcher slammed the ball down to shortstop
+and Jack was caught a yard away from base.
+Gordon scored too late.</p>
+
+<p>But with a lead of two runs things looked bright
+for Clearfield. The Point again failed to cross the
+platter, although Loring Townsend got as far as
+second. Tom’s shoots were too much for the home
+team. Neither side scored in the fourth. When
+the first half of the fifth began Pete Robey was up,
+and Pete, contrary to expectations, delivered a scratch
+hit and reached the first bag. Lanny flied out to left
+fielder and Pete reached second ahead of the throw-in.
+Fudge went out on strikes and, with Tom Haley
+up, the inning seemed over. But Tom made his one
+hit of the game, a Texas Leaguer that fell safely behind
+first baseman, and Pete legged it for the plate
+and arose from the dust triumphant with a tally. Tom
+got to second on the throw to the plate, but Harry
+was out, third baseman to first.</p>
+
+<p>So far Clearfield had played a clean game in the
+field, but in the last of the fifth luck deserted her. A
+hard smash down the first base line put a runner on
+second. A slow hit to Will Scott should have been
+an easy out, but Will booted the ball and the runner
+was safe. The next man went out on a foul to Gordon,
+but the following batsman cracked a liner between
+Peter and Harry and the Point scored its first
+run. With a man on third, Lanny declined to throw
+to second and the runner on first worked an easy steal.
+Then a batsman found one of Tom’s straight ones
+and sent it into short center. Fudge made a fine
+running catch, but the best he could do was to field
+the ball to Harry and Harry’s throw to the plate was
+too late to keep the Point from tying the score. Tom
+settled down then and struck out the next batter and
+the inning was over, with the score three to two.</p>
+
+<p>The spectators warmed up then and there was plenty
+of noise during the rest of the game. The sixth inning
+was uneventful, although both sides got men on
+bases. The Point pitcher was by no means remarkable,
+and, as Gordon complained, his deliveries would
+have been easy for Clearfield had the latter’s batsmen
+been in any sort of condition. As it was, though, they
+found him puzzling when hits meant runs and by the
+end of the sixth he had seven strike-outs to his credit.
+It was during the last half of that inning that a small
+youth detached himself from the group of spectators
+across the field and walked around to the Clearfield
+bench and seated himself beside Dick. He was a good-looking
+youngster, as brown as a berry, with a pair of
+big and rather impudent gray eyes.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello,” responded Dick, glancing up from his
+score. “How are you to-day, Harold?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fine and dandy,” replied that youth easily. “Keeping
+score?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” answered Dick, crediting Harry Bryan with
+an assist and Gordon with a put-out and penciling
+the mystic characters “2-1 1” in the square opposite
+Pink Northrop’s name. “Enjoying the game, Harold?”</p>
+
+<p>Harold Townsend yawned. “I guess so. We’re
+going to beat you fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Think so?” asked Dick amiably.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure thing. Our pitcher’s just getting good now.
+Bede Porter never begins to pitch till the middle of
+the game. He will have you fellows eating out of
+his hand pretty soon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, he’s pitched a pretty good game so far.
+Hello!” Dick was gazing in surprise at the boy beside
+him. “What have you done to your hair?”</p>
+
+<p>Harold grinned. “Had it clipped. Mother’s so
+angry she can’t see straight. She said I wasn’t to,
+but I went down to the barber shop this morning before
+breakfast. Gee, it’s fine and cool!”</p>
+
+<p>“Hardly the right thing to do, though, was it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, she’ll get over it. Other fellows have their
+heads clipped in summer, don’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick evaded the question. “How are you getting
+on with your lessons?” he asked. “Going to be all
+ready for me Monday morning?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so,” replied Harold without enthusiasm.
+“Who’s the fellow catching for your team, Lovering?”</p>
+
+<p>“Lansing White.”</p>
+
+<p>“Gee, that’s a good name for him, White. He’s
+a regular tow-head, isn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he? He’s a fine chap, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“He don’t catch as well as Billy Houghton. Look
+at the way Gil Chase stole on him last inning. Say,
+you keep score dandy, don’t you? Isn’t it hard?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not very, when you’re used to it. Would you like
+to learn how?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I can do it well enough. It’s too much trouble,
+anyhow. I’d rather play. My brother’s the best
+player on our team.”</p>
+
+<p>“Better than Caspar Billings?” asked Dick idly.</p>
+
+<p>“Aw, go on! He can’t play! Why, Loring’s been
+first baseman on his school team for two years. He
+could be captain if he wanted to.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very nice,” said Dick. “Now you’d better
+scoot along and make room for the fellows. That’s
+three out. I’ll see you Monday, Harold.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Don’t come if it’s too much trouble,”
+replied the boy with a grin. “I shan’t mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“That your pupil?” asked Lanny, sinking on to the
+bench beside Dick. “Looks like a fresh kid.”</p>
+
+<p>“He is, rather,” replied Dick dryly. “Will, you’d
+better play further in. That fellow House has laid
+three bunts down the base line and made them good
+twice. You’re up, Jack. Pete on deck. Let’s have
+a couple of runs this inning, fellows.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c7'>CHAPTER VII<br/>THE BLUE RUNABOUT</h2>
+
+<p>But although Jack Tappen drove out a two-bagger
+over shortstop’s head and Pete Robey
+got safely to first on an error by the third
+baseman, the next three players went out in order,
+Lanny on a foul that was pulled down by third baseman,
+Fudge on strikes and Tom Haley on a weak effort
+to second baseman.</p>
+
+<p>Encouraged by the valiant cheers of its supporters,
+the Point went to work in its half of the seventh
+in a very business-like way. Townsend beat out a
+bunt in front of base, Morris Brent hit safely into
+short left field, advancing Townsend, and Gil Chase
+sent a hot one through the pitcher’s box which Tom
+couldn’t handle. With the bases full, things looked bad
+for Clearfield. Tom knocked down House’s drive,
+however, held Townsend at third, and worked the first
+out. Then Leary, after spoiling three good ones,
+fouled out to Lanny, and Clearfield breathed easier.
+But Pink Northrop, although a tail-ender on the batting
+list, came through with a hit that brought shrieks
+of delight from the Point sympathizers and sent two
+runs across. Billy Houghton trickled a slow bunt
+toward first and the man on third tried for the plate.
+But Gordon, running in fast, got the ball to Lanny
+ahead of the runner and the side was out.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re up, Harry,” announced Dick. “There’s a
+fine opening for a bright young man between third
+and short. See what you can do.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll try it, but I’m batting pretty punk,” replied
+Harry doubtfully. “What’s the matter with a bunt,
+Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing doing, Harry. Hit it out. Get to first
+and try a hit-and-run with Will.”</p>
+
+<p>But Harry’s effort was a weak grounder that
+bounded nicely into shortstop’s hands and there was
+one out. Gordon, behind first, looked worried as
+Will faced the pitcher. But, “Pick out a good one,
+Will,” he called cheerfully. “He hasn’t much on
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>Will, profiting by the advice, sought to select one
+to his liking and Porter very soon found himself in
+a hole. The umpire didn’t like Porter’s offerings any
+better than Will and after six deliveries Will walked
+to first.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried Jack Tappen, relieving
+Gordon on the coaching line. “He’s all in! Whale it
+out, Gordon! Here we go, fellows!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon swung viciously at the first ball across and
+the third baseman stepped cautiously back. Then came
+a wide one that Gordon disdained. The next was
+likewise a ball by a narrow margin. At first Will was
+dancing back and forth and Jack was coaching at the
+top of his lungs, while from behind third Lanny was
+offering his budget of advice and comment. Porter
+wound up again, Will started for second and Gordon
+swung his bat. There was a <i>crack</i> as ball and bat
+met, and Will, nearing second, saw Lanny’s entreating
+gestures and never paused in his stride.</p>
+
+<p>Out in center field the ball was bounding along the
+turf and Gordon was already rounding first. Luck
+helped Clearfield then, for just as center fielder
+slackened his pace to get the ball the latter struck
+against a tuft of the coarse grass in front of him and
+bounded erratically aside. At third Lanny waved Will
+on to the plate. Gordon, pausing a few yards past
+first, took up his running again while the center fielder
+turned and raced back for the rolling ball. When he
+reached it Gordon was sliding to second in a cloud of
+dust and Will was halfway to the plate. The fielder,
+Jim House, made a beautiful throw, but Will beat it,
+and the best the catcher could do was to hold Gordon
+on second.</p>
+
+<p>On the Clearfield bench the purple-hosed players
+cheered and cavorted, while on the shady side of the
+diamond a strange silence held. Way tapped the base
+impatiently with his favorite bat and Harry implored
+him to hit it out. Porter looked nervous for the first
+time.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s up in the air!” shrieked Harry. “Wait for
+your base, Way. You don’t have to hit it! He’ll
+pass you! Here we go! Here we go! Here<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>Harry paused only because Way had picked out the
+first ball offered him and had banged it across to shortstop.
+Gordon scurried to third and Way raced toward
+first. Shortstop got the ball on a low bound, cast a
+hurried look toward third and pelted it across to first.
+But the throw was poor and although first baseman
+got it he dropped it the next instant and the umpire
+spread his hands wide.</p>
+
+<p>“Watch home!” implored the catcher. But Gordon
+was taking no chances with only one out and contented
+himself with dancing up the base line a few
+yards to draw the throw. The ball went back to
+pitcher and pitcher and catcher met and held a conference.
+Gordon spoke to Lanny and Lanny nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I guess we’ve got them guessing, Harry,” he
+called across.</p>
+
+<p>“Here’s where we break it up, fellows!” responded
+Harry. “On your toes, Way! Here we go!”</p>
+
+<p>Porter glanced over his infield, tugged at his cap,
+hitched his trousers, studied the catcher’s signal and
+wound up. But the throw was to first and Way was
+nearly caught napping. Twice more Porter tried to
+clear that base, and then, anticipating a steal, threw
+out to the catcher. But Way hugged first and only
+grinned, while the umpire announced “One ball!”
+Then a curve went over the corner of the plate and
+Jack Tappen had a strike on him. The Point infield
+was playing close and Jack knew that a bunt would
+not help any. He let the second strike go by, a deceptive
+drop, and then came the signal from Harry.</p>
+
+<p>“Make it be good, Jack!” called Harry. “Here we
+go! Here we go!”</p>
+
+<p>Porter wound up again and Way started for second.
+It was now or never for Jack and desperately
+he glued his eye to the oncoming sphere, swung and
+felt the pleasant tingle that announced that he had hit
+it! Then he was racing for the base. Shortstop
+had the ball a dozen feet back of the base line. Second
+baseman ran to cover that bag. Perhaps he thought
+a throw to the plate would fail to head off the speeding
+runner from third, or perhaps he had some idea
+of starting a double play. At all events, Chase tossed
+the ball quickly toward second. It reached there simultaneously
+with second baseman and Way. Second
+baseman made a grab for it and got it, but at
+that instant Way, sliding into the bag feet-foremost,
+collided with the defender of the sack and the ball
+trickled away in the dust. Gordon slid across the
+plate, Way was safe at second and Jack was grinning
+from first!</p>
+
+<p>That misadventure was the Point’s undoing. Porter
+went to pieces then and there. Pete hit a liner
+that sent in Way, put Jack on third and himself on
+second; Lanny, enjoined to wait for his base, stood
+idle while the pitcher slammed four balls past him,
+and then, with the bases full, and one out, Fudge,
+with the score two strikes and two balls, resisted the
+temptation to swing and was presented with his base.
+Jack was forced across for the fourth tally.</p>
+
+<p>Tom, eager to add his mite to the slaughter, hit a
+beautiful drive toward left field and the runners started
+around. But Caspar Billings performed the impossible.
+Although the ball was at least a yard over his
+head, he knocked it down with his right, spoiling what
+was intended for a two-bagger, and sped it to the
+plate ten feet in front of Pete, who, with the possible
+exception of Caspar himself, was the most surprised
+youth on the field. Back flew the ball to third,
+but Lanny had luck with him and somehow managed
+to slide into the bag ahead of Caspar’s descending
+arm.</p>
+
+<p>Encouraged, Rutter’s Point set about getting the
+third out, and Porter settled down to deceive Harry
+Bryan. But Harry, realizing that in all probability this
+would be his last time at bat, and seeing what a fine
+opportunity was presented him to write his name on
+the annals of fame, was cautious and watchful. Porter
+worked a low ball over for a strike, followed it
+with a ball wide of the plate, coaxed him with a slow
+one that failed to entice Harry or please the umpire
+and then tried to sneak a fast one across in the groove.
+But Harry saw it coming, laid all his strength along
+that slender piece of ash he held and swung! And
+when the excitement was over three more runs had
+been piled on to Clearfield’s score and Harry was
+seated, breathless but happy, on third, having lined
+out a two-base hit into deep center and taken third on
+the throw to the plate. That ended it, however, for
+Will Scott popped a foul into first baseman’s hands.</p>
+
+<p>With the score ten to four against them the Rutter’s
+Point team was discouraged and beaten. It tried
+half-heartedly to get a man around in the last of the
+eighth and managed to stop Clearfield in the first of
+the ninth, although some poor base-running on the part
+of the visitors did more than any efforts of the home
+team to save the plate in that inning. And in the
+last half of the ninth the Point actually got a runner
+as far as third. But there he stayed while the next
+two batsmen fell before Tom’s slants and a third
+sent up a short fly that settled comfortably into Pete
+Robey’s hands and brought the game to an end.</p>
+
+<p>Clearfield cheered Rutter’s Point, in the intoxication
+of the moment using the regular High School
+slogan, and Rutter’s Point cheered Clearfield and bats
+were gathered up and the two teams started off the
+field. They came together at the corner of the hotel
+and Caspar called to Dick: “We’d like to try you
+again, Lovering, some time.” And Dick answered:
+“Glad to play you, Billings. We’ll talk it over soon.”</p>
+
+<p>Morris Brent laid a hand on Gordon’s arm and
+pulled him aside. “Say, Gordon, I’ve got my car
+here. Come on back with me, won’t you? I’ll get you
+home quicker than the trolley will do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, much obliged,” murmured Gordon,
+“but<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come on! I want you to see how dandy it
+runs.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not insured,” laughed Gordon, trying to pull
+away from the other’s detaining hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pshaw! I won’t dump you out. I’ll run as
+slow as you like. Come on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, all right,” agreed Gordon without enthusiasm.
+“Oh, Dick! I’m going back with Morris. I’ll
+see you this evening.”</p>
+
+<p>Morris led the way toward the pier, where the
+Clearfield road joined the shore avenue, and Gordon
+saw the blue runabout standing at the side of the
+road. It was a very attractive little car, in spite of
+the layer of gray dust which sullied the shining varnish.</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t she a peach?” demanded Morris. “And go!
+Say, I went nearly forty miles an hour in her the
+other day!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” replied Gordon dryly, “Dick saw you, I
+guess. He said you were racing with the trolley.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, shucks, not that time! I was only doing about
+thirty then. I had to slow down for a team. You
+ought to have seen me the other morning on the
+Springdale road. That was going some, I tell you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, if you try any thirty mile stunt to-day I’ll
+fall out the back of it,” warned Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t. Wait till I start it. All right. In you
+get. Pretty comfortable seats, aren’t they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” agreed Gordon as the runabout swung
+around in the dusty road and headed toward Clearfield
+at a moderate speed. “Does—does your father
+know about it?”</p>
+
+<p>Morris chuckled. “No, not yet. I don’t want him
+to, but I suppose some busybody will tell him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bound to,” said Gordon. “Especially if you do
+such spectacular stunts as you did the other day. Folks
+on the trolley, Dick said, expected to see you go off
+the road any minute.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pooh! Folks who don’t drive autos always think
+that. Why, you’re just as safe in this thing as you
+are in the trolley. Safer, I guess. Remember when
+the car jumped the track year before last and killed
+six or seven people?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but I’ll take my chances with the trolley,” replied
+Gordon. “There it goes now. I wonder if the
+fellows caught it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure. Anyway, we’ll soon see. I can catch that
+trolley as though it was standing still!” Morris pulled
+down his throttle and the little car bounded forward
+with a deeper hum of its engine. Gordon grasped the
+arm of the seat beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind!” he exclaimed. “I don’t care whether
+they did or not, Morris! Pull her down!”</p>
+
+<p>Morris obeyed, laughing. “Shucks,” he said, “that
+wasn’t fast. We were only going twenty-five or six
+miles an hour.”</p>
+
+<p>“How do you know?” grumbled Gordon, relaxing
+his grip.</p>
+
+<p>Morris indicated the speedometer with his foot.
+“That thing tells you,” he explained. “Watch the
+long hand. We’re doing sixteen now. I’ll hit her up
+a bit. There, see the hand move around? Twenty—twenty-two—twenty-four<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“That’ll do, thanks! And for the love of mud, Morris,
+keep her away from this fence!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, there’s five feet there,” protested the driver.</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, but the old thing wabbles so it gives me
+heart failure!”</p>
+
+<p>“You just think it does,” returned Morris. “I can
+keep her as straight as an arrow if I want to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Want to, then, will you?” laughed Gordon uneasily.
+“And—and here’s another car coming, Morris.
+Hadn’t you better slow down a little?”</p>
+
+<p>“Say, you’re an awful baby,” commented the other.
+But he lowered the speed of the car still further and,
+to Gordon’s relief, hugged the fence pretty closely
+while a big gray touring car shot by them in a cloud
+of dust. Morris turned a speculative, admiring gaze
+on it as it passed.</p>
+
+<p>“Thirty-five easily, she’s making,” he said. “Some
+day I’m going to have one like that. These little
+cars are all right to knock about in, but they’re too
+light to get much speed out of.”</p>
+
+<p>“How fast do you want to run, anyway?” grumbled
+Gordon. “Isn’t twenty miles an hour fast enough?”</p>
+
+<p>“You wait till you run one and you’ll see,” laughed
+Morris. “Why, twenty miles will seem like standing
+still to you!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s fast enough for me,” sighed Gordon. “Besides,
+this road is so rough that—<i>Morris!</i>”</p>
+
+<p>But Gordon’s cry was too late. There was a bump,
+a crash, the sound of splintering wood, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span></p>
+
+<h2 id='c8'>CHAPTER VIII<br/>ACROSS THE GULLY</h2>
+
+<p>Gordon raised himself on one aching elbow
+and looked dazedly about him. Up the bank
+a dozen feet away lay the blue runabout on
+its side, one forward wheel—or the remains of it—thrust
+through a broken panel of the white fence that
+guarded that side of the road. A cloud of dust still
+hovered above the car, proving to Gordon that the
+accident had happened but the moment before. If it
+was not for that he could well have imagined that
+he had lain huddled up in a clump of bushes halfway
+down the steep bank for some time. His head
+was spinning wildly and he felt horribly jarred and
+bruised. But a tentative effort to get to his feet,
+while it was not successful because of dizziness,
+showed that at least he had no limbs broken. A second
+effort, made when the clouds had stopped revolving
+overhead like a gigantic blue-and-white pin-wheel,
+brought him staggering to his feet.</p>
+
+<p>Strangely enough, it was not until he stood swaying
+unsteadily on the bank that he remembered Morris,
+or, rather, that he felt any concern for him. Anxiously
+then he looked about on every side. But no
+Morris was to be seen. Gordon called in a weak and
+shaky voice. There was no reply. Summoning his
+strength, Gordon crawled slowly up the side of the
+declivity, pulling himself by bushes and grass-tufts
+until at last he was clinging limply to the fence rail.
+There he leaned for an instant and closed his eyes.
+He felt very much as if he was going to faint, and
+perhaps he would have had he not at that moment, just
+as he seemed about to go off into a deliciously fearsome
+black void, heard the sound of a low groan.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon pulled himself erect, opened his eyes and
+tried to look about, but the sunlight was frantically
+hot and glaring and the dusty road and the helpless
+hulk of the overturned auto danced fantastically
+before him. It was a full minute before he dared
+attempt to again lift his head and look. Even then
+sight was uncertain. But he realized that the groans—he
+heard them quite plainly now, low and monotonous—came
+from the further side of the car. He
+squirmed through the stout rails and stepped dizzily
+out into the road. Then he saw Morris.</p>
+
+<p>He lay half in and half out of the car, one arm
+stretched from him in the dust and the other caught
+between the spokes of the steering wheel. Evidently
+the wheel had saved him from being thrown out as
+Gordon had been, but the latter, gazing with horror
+at the white face that seemed crushed against the
+dirt of the highway, surmised that it would have been
+better for Morris had he too been hurled over the
+fence. The dreadful thought that Morris was killed
+assailed Gordon, only to be banished by the comforting
+knowledge that dead folks don’t groan.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon cast despairing looks up and down the road.
+Not a team or person was in sight. Then he knelt
+by Morris and spoke to him. But only low, unconscious
+moans answered him. Panic-stricken for an
+instant, Gordon gazed helplessly, his wits quite deserting
+him. Then common-sense whispered and he
+drew a deep breath of relief and seized Morris under
+the shoulders. Tug as he might, though, he could
+not budge the limp body. Then he saw why. Morris
+had evidently started to leap from the car and had
+got his left leg over the side when the car struck.
+Now that leg was imprisoned with the whole weight
+of the runabout upon it. Again Gordon looked along
+the highway for assistance, but, as before, the road
+stretched in either direction empty and deserted. Off
+toward town a cloud of dust hovered, but whether it
+indicated an approaching vehicle or a farmer’s wagon
+moving slowly toward Clearfield there was no knowing.
+Gordon set his lips firmly, striving to close his
+ears to Morris’ groans, and tried to think what to
+do. Perhaps if he could find water he could bring
+Morris back to consciousness, but what use to do that
+so long as the boy was pinned there under the car?
+No, the first thing to do was to set him free, and Gordon
+strove to think of a way to do it. He didn’t believe
+for an instant that he was capable of lifting that
+car and at the same time pulling Morris’ leg from
+beneath it. In fact, he doubted if he was strong
+enough to raise the weight of it. To make certain,
+however, he tried. It did move a little, he thought,
+but there was no question of raising it. Then he recalled
+seeing automobilists lifting their cars with jacks
+to put on new tires. If Morris had a jack<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>!</p>
+
+<p>In a moment he was struggling with the cover
+over the box at the rear of the seat. It was jammed
+at one corner and it took him a full minute to wrench
+it open. When he finally did, however, the lifting
+jack was the first thing he saw. It was a small contrivance,
+scarcely a foot high, and Gordon viewed
+it doubtfully as he hurried with it around to the side.
+Morris’ leg was held down at the ankle by the edge
+of the turning-board and there was barely space between
+the ground and the side panel of the car in
+which to slip the jack. But it went in finally and
+Gordon began to work the handle. There was a heartening
+click as the cogs slipped into place and a cracking
+of frame and varnish as the car slowly rose. Bit
+by bit it went and at last Gordon pulled the imprisoned
+leg out. And not an instant too soon, for there
+was a lurch, the jack toppled sideways and the car
+settled back again in the dust, a forward wheel spinning
+slowly around.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon turned Morris over on his back, placed a
+seat cushion, which had toppled out, under his head
+and again viewed the road anxiously. In the distance
+the dust cloud had disappeared and the road
+was still empty. He groaned with disappointment
+and exasperation. Usually a half-dozen vehicles
+would have passed in the ten minutes that had elapsed.
+To-day, because Morris’ life perhaps depended on getting
+him to a doctor, not one appeared! Gordon
+again thought of water and looked around him. Only
+dry hillside met his gaze on one side and only the
+equally dry gully separating road from trolley track
+on the other. But sight of the track gave Gordon
+an idea. The cars ran every quarter of an hour or
+so and if he could somehow get Morris down the bank,
+across the wide gully and up the slope on the other
+side it would be only a matter of a few minutes to
+town. But the distance was a good two hundred and
+fifty yards, he calculated, and Morris was no light
+burden. And, to increase his difficulties, he himself
+was in poor shape to make the effort. There was
+nothing else for it, however, and Gordon hurried to
+the fence and viewed the descent. A little further
+along was a place where the bank had at some time
+loosened and fallen in a miniature landslide and toward
+that spot Gordon was presently making his way.</p>
+
+<p>He tried carrying Morris in his arms, but after the
+first few yards he had to give up. Instead, he took
+him by the wrists and dragged him as he might have
+dragged a sack of potatoes. It was hard work getting
+him through the fence, but easier when that
+obstacle was negotiated, for the descent helped. At
+the bottom of the bank it was necessary to worm in
+and out between bushes, while briars caught at him
+and tripped him as he toiled backward toward the
+further side of the gully. Twice he stopped to regain
+his breath and mop his streaming face. And
+it was while he was taking his second rest that a
+buzzing, humming sound came to him from the direction
+of town, a sound that grew louder even while
+he turned to look. Far down the track, visible here
+for a half-mile, came one of the big trolleys, swaying
+from side to side and eating up the rails in its rapid
+flight. There was but one thing to do, and Gordon
+did it.</p>
+
+<p>Dropping Morris’ wrists, he set off at a run for
+the track. Once he tripped and measured his length
+in the briars, but he was up again in the instant, while,
+almost at hand as it seemed, the buzzing and throbbing
+of the rails sounded. When he finally reached
+the foot of the bank it seemed that he had not enough
+strength left to climb it. But climb it he did, somehow,
+with toes digging into the loose gravel and hands
+clutching at the infrequent tufts of grass or weeds.
+And when he reached the top and the side of the
+track the plunging car was almost up to him.</p>
+
+<p>He knelt there on the edge of the embankment and
+waved his arms, shouting at the top of his exhausted
+lungs. A screech from the whistle sent its warning
+and then the big car was hurtling past him, the motorman
+casting a puzzled, indifferent glance as he
+shot by and the few passengers turning inquiring
+faces toward the boy crouched beside the track. Dust
+enveloped him and a great despair crushed him, and
+he did what was perhaps the one thing that could
+have stopped the car. He crumpled up in a heap at
+the ends of the ties and then rolled, slowly at first
+and then gaining momentum as he went, down the
+gravel slope into a clump of bushes at the bottom.</p>
+
+<p>The conductor, who had leaned outboard at the
+warning shriek of the whistle, had seen the boy and
+had kept his eyes on him as the car had gone past.
+“Some kid wants to get on,” he explained to a passenger
+beside him on the rear platform, “but there’s
+no stop here.” Then his hand flew to the bell-cord.
+Boys didn’t crumple up like that and go rolling down
+embankments for the fun of it! With a loud grinding
+of brakes the big car came shivering to a stop a
+hundred yards along the track. The conductor tugged
+again at the cord and slowly the car crept backward.
+By that time the passengers were on their feet and
+the conductor was hanging over the steps. Then he
+had dropped and was plunging down the embankment
+in a cloud of dust and a cascade of loose gravel, the
+passenger on the platform following more carefully.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon was already struggling to his feet when
+they reached him, and somehow he made them understand
+that some thirty yards away lay the unconscious
+form of Jonathan Brent’s son. After that events were
+very hazy and confused to Gordon. Kindly hands
+pulled and lifted him up the embankment and into
+the car, where he subsided weakly on a seat. Voices
+asked questions and he tried to answer them. Someone
+caught sight of the overturned automobile and
+there was much pointing and much exclaiming. And
+then three men came toiling across the ground below
+with Morris and others slid and stumbled down to
+help them, and almost at once the big car was pounding
+back the way it had come, its strident whistle
+shrieking above the hum of the rails in an incessant
+warning and alarm!</p>
+
+<h2 id='c9'>CHAPTER IX<br/>MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE</h2>
+
+<p>That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter’s
+Point car ever made, and almost before
+Gordon realized that town had been reached,
+and certainly before he had fully recovered from
+his experiences, the big yellow-sided car was coming
+to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was
+but two short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged
+and frantic whistling had summoned a knot of curious
+persons to the corner as the car trundled around
+the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to
+bear the still unconscious form the remaining distance.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly.
+Someone had sped ahead and when the little throng
+reached the house anxious faces were already at the
+doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the
+men who had carried Morris inside returned to linger
+about the door and await the doctor’s verdict. The
+latter reached the gate a minute later, and, leaping
+from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag
+swinging briskly.</p>
+
+<p>There was a long wait after that. The accident
+was discussed in low voices by the small gathering
+outside and Gordon was forced to go through his
+story again. Presently he left the front steps and
+wandered around to the side of the house. From an
+upper window came the low mutter of voices. Near
+at hand was a rustic seat, placed against the wall of
+the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with
+a big sigh of relief. Inside the house a telephone bell
+rang shrilly. Footsteps hurried. The voices in the
+room upstairs still came indistinctly through the open
+window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he
+ought to be at home. His father would be angry with
+him if he was late for supper. But he didn’t want
+to go until he had heard whether Morris was going
+to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable
+in the corner of the rustic seat and he would just
+close his eyes a minute<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span></p>
+
+<p>Someone was shaking him gently and calling “Gordon!
+Wake up!” He stretched and opened his eyes.
+“Yes’m,” he muttered sleepily. But it couldn’t be
+morning, for it was almost dark and—and where was
+he? He sat up quickly then and gazed about him in
+blank surprise until his roaming glance encountered
+the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent bending
+above him. “Oh!” he said, recollection coming
+to him.</p>
+
+<p>“Have you been here all the time?” asked Louise.
+“You poor boy!”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I must have fallen asleep,” admitted Gordon
+sheepishly. “How—how is he, Louise?”</p>
+
+<p>The girl’s face went suddenly serious in the twilight.
+“He’s pretty badly hurt,” she said. “One
+leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Is that all?” he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“They think so. Seems to me it’s quite enough,
+though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, only<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” Gordon heaved a sigh of relief—“I
+was afraid he was dying. He—he looked
+so awfully!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, didn’t he?” Louise shuddered. “He is still
+unconscious, but Doctor Mayrick says he will get his
+senses back in a little while. He must have had an
+awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me
+just how it happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?”</p>
+
+<p>He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride
+rather uncertainly. Somehow, they had got pretty
+much mixed up by now.</p>
+
+<p>“But I think you were splendid,” said the girl
+warmly. “To think of stopping the trolley car was
+fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully scared
+and—and everything. And wasn’t it a wonder you
+weren’t hurt too?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been
+better if Morris had been thrown out of the car too.
+It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I think.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see how you ever thought of lifting the
+car up with the—that thing you spoke of,” she said
+admiringly. “Goodness, I’d have been so frightened
+I’d have just cried!”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I’d better be going home,” said Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven’t had
+any supper, have you? I wish I’d found you here
+before.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe I want any,” he murmured. “I—I’m
+mighty glad he isn’t hurt any worse. I’ll come
+around to-morrow if you don’t mind and see how
+he is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn’t he?”
+asked Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s too upset and anxious now to be angry,”
+replied Louise. “But I suppose he will have something
+to say to Morris later. I felt all the time that
+he shouldn’t run that car. It was horrid of him to
+get it without letting anyone know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess he’s got his punishment,” replied
+Gordon grimly. “A broken leg will keep him laid up a
+long time. I’m awfully sorry for him. Good-night,
+Louise.”</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a terribly long distance to his home,
+although it was in reality but two blocks. His father
+was on the porch, reading under the electric light,
+when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the
+paper and Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold
+severity.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, Gordon, where have you been?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Over to the Point, sir. I—we<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I think I have told you fairly often that I do not
+like you to be late for your meals?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir,” assented Gordon wearily.</p>
+
+<p>“Exactly. It is now—hm—nearly eight o’clock. I
+think you had better go up to your room. You don’t
+deserve supper at this hour. And—hm—after this
+kindly give a little consideration to my wishes.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir.” Gordon wanted to tell him what had
+happened, but he was frightfully tired and the thought
+of getting upstairs and into his bed was very alluring.
+Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation
+was at an end by again hiding his face behind the
+newspaper and Gordon went indoors and quietly
+climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his mother would
+not hear him. But she did, and came out of her
+room with the secrecy of a conspirator.</p>
+
+<p>“Gordon, dear,” she whispered, “your father was
+very angry and said you were to have no supper, but I
+put a little something on a plate for you. It’s on your
+bureau. You shouldn’t stay out like this, though,
+dear. Your father doesn’t like it and—and it makes
+me worried, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, I won’t again,” replied Gordon. “I—I’m
+not very hungry, though. I’m going to bed.”</p>
+
+<p>“Aren’t you—don’t you feel well?” inquired Mrs.
+Merrick anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, I’m all right. I just feel sort of tired.
+Good-night.” He kissed her and went on up the second
+flight. Half-way up, though, he paused and called
+down in a hoarse whisper: “Thanks for the eats,
+ma!”</p>
+
+<p>In spite of his weariness, sleep didn’t come readily.
+It was a hot, still night and, although his bed was
+drawn close to the two windows that looked out into
+the upper branches of the big elm, not much air penetrated
+to his room. He lay for a while staring out
+at the motionless leaves, intensely black in shadow
+and vividly green where the light from the big arc
+on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents
+of the day. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn’t
+dangerously hurt, grateful for his own escape from
+injury and sorry that Morris would have to lie abed
+for many weeks while his broken leg knit together
+again. Finally he dozed off only to awake in a terror,
+imagining that he was riding in an automobile that
+was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and
+deep that the bottom was miles away! He awoke
+shaking and muttering and it took him several seconds
+to reassure himself and throw off the effects of
+the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until
+he remembered the plate on the bureau. He got up
+and brought it back to bed with him, and leaned on
+one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken and
+bread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But
+he wasn’t really hungry and his appetite was soon satisfied.
+He put the plate on the floor beside him and
+settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nine
+and a moment later the town hall clock sounded the
+hour sonorously. Then the telephone in the first
+floor hall rang sharply and he heard his father’s chair
+scrape on the porch and his father’s feet across the
+hall.</p>
+
+<p>“Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?...”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing
+he knew someone was pushing open his bedroom door
+cautiously and asking if he was awake.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the
+bed. “Time you were asleep, son,” he said concernedly.
+“Having trouble?”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’ve been asleep once, sir. Something wakened
+me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm. Er—I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the
+telephone, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir?”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm. He told me about the accident, son.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?”</p>
+
+<p>“Doing very well, he said. Why didn’t you—hm—why
+didn’t you tell me about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know, sir. I was sort of tired, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile
+to the trolley, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t nearly that far. And I didn’t carry
+him. He was too heavy. I—I pulled him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, the doctor says it’s a lucky thing you got
+him home as quick as you did. Mr. Brent is—hm—very
+grateful. He’s going to stop in the morning and
+see you.”</p>
+
+<p>“He needn’t be,” murmured Gordon. “It wasn’t
+anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm—I’m
+sorry I was so short with you, son. If
+you’d explained<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I ought to have. It—it’s all right, dad.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, but—if you’re hungry, Gordon<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not, sir. I—no, sir, I’m not.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you are I guess you and I can forage around
+and find something. Sure you wouldn’t like a little
+bite?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, thank you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well—hm<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon’s
+arm and pressed it. “Sorry I scolded, son. I—we—we’re
+proud of you, boy.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon didn’t answer. It was rather embarrassing
+and he was glad of the darkness.</p>
+
+<p>“Good-night, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Good-night, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of
+cracking and crunching china and an exclamation.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s this?” asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering
+down at the floor.</p>
+
+<p>“It—it’s a plate, sir. Mother—that is<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm,” said Mr. Merrick, and then again “Hm!”
+He pushed the broken fragments under the bed. “I—hm—I
+can understand that you aren’t very hungry,”
+he said dryly. “Evidently your mother—hm—well,
+good-night, Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and
+green foliage beyond the window. It was all right
+about that lunch. If it wasn’t his father would never
+have called him Gordie.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c10'>CHAPTER X<br/>GORDON BEARS A MESSAGE</h2>
+
+<p>Gordon was up at seven the next morning,
+having had, as he reckoned, a good nine
+hours and more of sleep. At breakfast he
+told again the story of the accident, this time to an
+interested audience of three. The third was Fudge,
+who, since almost an hour before, had been hanging
+around waiting for Gordon’s appearance, and who
+now was seated at table with a cup of coffee and one
+of Mrs. Merrick’s graham muffins in front of him.
+Fudge acknowledged that he had rather skimped his
+breakfast. Mr. Merrick mildly censured Gordon for
+accepting Morris Brent’s invitation to ride, but it was
+evident that he was too proud of Gordon’s part in the
+affair to be severe. Fudge was anxious to know what
+had become of the runabout and Gordon replied that
+so far as he knew it was just where they had left it.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess,” he said, “it’s pretty badly smashed up.
+I know one wheel has about all the spokes out of it,
+and I think the axle is busted. Still, I dare say it can
+be mended.”</p>
+
+<p>“B-b-bet you Morris will never run it again,
+though,” said Fudge. “Guess it’s a good chance for
+someone to buy an auto cheap. Wish I could!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, William!” murmured Mrs. Merrick. “The
+idea!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, a fellow doesn’t have to run it the way Morris
+did,” replied Fudge knowingly. “Tim Turner’s father
+has had a car for two years and he’s never had an
+accident yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you see Mr. Brent?” suggested Gordon.
+“I dare say he will let you have it for almost
+nothing.”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge thrust a hand in a pocket and gravely counted
+the change he drew out. “If he’ll let me have it for
+sixty-three cents I’ll take it,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Merrick pushed back his chair. “If I ever hear
+of either of you riding in an automobile without permission
+I’ll see that you get what you deserve,” he
+said grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Fudge grinned. “You’d have to catch me first,”
+he said.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon announced his intention of running over to
+see Dick and his father reminded him that Mr. Brent
+was going to call. Gordon replied evasively that he
+guessed Mr. Brent had changed his mind. He
+secretly hoped that he had. But when, after Mr. Merrick’s
+departure for his office, Gordon wheeled his
+bicycle down the steps he saw Mr. Brent coming along
+the street, his ivory-topped walking-stick thumping the
+pavement briskly. Escape was impossible and so
+Gordon leaned his wheel against the gate post
+and waited. Fudge melted into the background.
+Mr. Brent was about the only person Fudge was in
+awe of.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, my boy,” greeted Mr. Brent, “you got off
+lucky.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir. I’m awfully sorry about Morris. How
+is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Better than he deserves,” replied Mr. Brent with
+a snap of his jaws. “The doctor tells me it will be
+six weeks or more before he will be on his feet again.
+I suppose he was running the thing like mad, wasn’t
+he?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, he was going quite slowly. I don’t know
+just how it happened, Mr. Brent. I think there must
+have been a bad place in the road.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course it wasn’t his fault,” said the other dryly.
+“Well, it was a merciful thing he had you with him,
+my boy. His mother and I are very grateful to you,
+Merrick. You did a very plucky thing.”</p>
+
+<p>“It wasn’t anything,” muttered Gordon, looking
+longingly at his wheel. Perhaps Mr. Brent saw that
+he was more than willing to avoid further expressions
+of gratitude, for he smiled and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s all. I wanted to see you and thank
+you. And as I told your father last night I’m ready
+and anxious to prove my gratitude to you. If there’s
+anything I can do, Merrick, you call on me.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you, sir, but I guess there isn’t anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps some day there will be. When that time
+comes don’t forget what I say, Merrick. I wish you’d
+stop in at the house to-day or to-morrow and see Mrs.
+Brent. She wants to see you, my boy. And after
+Morris gets where he can talk to folks I’d like you to
+pay him a visit too. He doesn’t deserve it, but—well,
+I guess he’s in for a long, hard siege of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I will. I—I was going to call to-day and
+ask after him, but now that I know how he is<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Better go just the same. My wife is anxious to
+tell you how she feels about it, Merrick. She can do
+it better than I can, too. Your father at home?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, he’s gone down town.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s where I ought to be. I waited around for
+the doctor to call. By the way, Merrick, there’s something
+you can do for me if you will. See this man
+Stacey and get him to take that automobile away
+from there. If I talk to him I’ll fly off the handle
+and tell him what I think of him. I don’t care what
+he does with the thing. He may burn it up or fix it
+up or anything he likes, but you tell him from me that
+he will never get another cent in payment. Will you
+do that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I’ll see him right away. I guess the car
+will be worth quite a good deal after it’s fixed up. I
+mean, sir, I don’t think Mr. Stacey will be out much.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care if he is,” replied Mr. Brent grimly.
+“Morris tells me he paid three hundred and fifty
+dollars and owes about two hundred more. He
+will never get it. You tell him so. If he wants to
+sue, let him. I wish he would!” Mr. Brent flicked
+angrily with his cane at a spray of leaves that peeked
+through the fence. “Well, I’ll be grateful if you’ll
+attend to that for me, Merrick. Good morning.”</p>
+
+<p>After Mr. Brent had gone Gordon summoned Fudge
+with a whistle and that youth sauntered around from
+the back yard. “I guess Stacey will be mad,” he commented
+when Gordon had told him of the commission
+he had accepted. “I’ll go along with you. I like a
+scrap.”</p>
+
+<p>“There isn’t going to be any scrap,” said Gordon.
+“I’ll just tell him what Mr. Brent says and come
+away.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Wait till I get my wheel.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Stacey’s place of business was on Oak Street,
+a smart shop with two big plate-glass windows behind
+which were displayed shining new automobiles. The
+proprietor was a small man under thirty who affected
+brilliant neckties and a jovial smile. But the smile
+faded when Gordon delivered his message. Mr. Stacey
+looked angry and ugly.</p>
+
+<p>“Is that so?” he demanded truculently. “Old Jonathan
+Brent said that, did he? Well, you tell him I
+hold Morris’ note for two hundred and thirty-five dollars
+and I mean to collect it. Why, that car’s no good
+to me, son! What would I do with it? It isn’t mine,
+anyway. I sold it fairly and squarely. If he wants
+me to fetch it in and have it repaired I’ll do it and
+charge him only what it costs, but as to taking it back
+and calling quits—nothing doing, son. You tell him
+that, see?”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t my affair,” replied Gordon calmly. “I’ve
+only told you what Mr. Brent asked me to. Why
+don’t you talk to him about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I haven’t any dealings with him. I sold
+that car to his son. If he wants to talk to me let him
+come here or call me up on the telephone. It’s nothing
+to me. I’ve got Morris Brent’s note<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t worth anything,” piped up Fudge, who
+found proceedings dull. “He isn’t old enough to give
+a note.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll see whether he’s old enough,” was the answer.
+“I’ll go to court with it if it isn’t paid prompt.
+Get me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure. But Jonathan Brent’s a bad man to fight,
+I guess,” said Fudge with a shake of his head. “I
+wouldn’t want to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe you wouldn’t.” Mr. Stacey had to smile
+in spite of himself. “But I would—if I had to. I’m
+not in this business for my health, son. You tell Mr.
+Brent that if he wants me to haul that car in and repair
+it I’ll do it, but I won’t take it back.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” answered Gordon. “Seems to me,
+though, you could fix it up for a few dollars and have
+a perfectly good car.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no market here for second-hand cars,” replied
+the dealer shortly. “Tell you what I will do,
+though. I’ll fix that car up as good as new as cheap
+as it can be done and take it on sale. Maybe I’d find
+a buyer for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean you’ll let Morris off on the balance he
+owes?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, I don’t mean anything of the sort! I mean
+that he’s to pay what he owes when it comes due. If
+I can sell the machine he’ll get what it fetches, less my
+commission of twenty per cent. Understand?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I’ll tell Mr. Brent what you say,” agreed
+Gordon. “But I don’t believe he will be willing to have
+it that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no other way he can have it,” snarled Mr.
+Stacey. “He may have a heap of money and own this
+town, but he don’t own me! And he can’t cheat me
+out of what belongs to me, either! And you can
+tell him so! You tell him that if that two-thirty-five
+isn’t paid by the tenth of October I’ll
+sue for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Think of him suing Mr. Brent!” chuckled Fudge as
+they went out.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess he’d have a pretty good case, though,” said
+Gordon. “Of course Morris <i>does</i> owe that money to
+him.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pshaw, Morris’ note isn’t worth a cent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe not; I don’t know about that; but he’s
+morally liable, isn’t he?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. Going to tell Mr. Brent now, Gordie?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon shook his head. “Not—not right away. I
+think I’ll see Dick first. I told him I’d be over last
+night.”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge chuckled again. “You’re scared,” he said.
+“I’d be, too. Tell you what, Gordie; tell him over
+the ’phone, why don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“I was thinking of letting you tell him, Fudge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Me! Gee, I wouldn’t d-d-do it if he g-g-gave me
+the car!”</p>
+
+<p>They found Dick on the porch. “Hail to the Hero!”
+he declaimed.</p>
+
+<p>“Shut up!” said Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Modesty is very becoming,” pursued Dick. “Hello,
+Fudge. I’m glad to see you in such distinguished society.
+Sit down, Gordie, and tell me about it. First,
+though, how’s Morris getting on? Lanny told me that
+he was pretty well broken to pieces.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s got a busted leg. Broken in two places.
+That’s all. He was unconscious when they brought
+him home, but he’s all right that way now. There
+isn’t much to tell. We were coming along that stretch
+where the white fence is and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon went through with it again, Fudge interpolating
+details where Gordon failed to do full justice
+to the narrative. Afterward Gordon told about his
+visit to the automobile agent. “I don’t know what
+to do,” he ended. “I hate to tell Mr. Brent what
+that fellow said, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see why. It isn’t your fault. Besides,
+Mr. Brent is in the wrong, anyway. It’s Morris’
+duty to pay what he owes. The dealer isn’t supposed
+to find out before he makes a sale whether the buyer’s
+relatives want him to own a car!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all very well,” grumbled Gordon, “but he
+will be as mad as a March hare. I don’t see why he
+got me to do it for him, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Because you’ve made a hit with him,” laughed
+Dick. “I believe if you asked for it you could get
+a yearly pass over the trolley line. And speaking of
+trolleys reminds me that I’ve got to hustle over to
+the Point and get busy with young Mr. Townsend.
+What time is it?”</p>
+
+<p>It was almost ten, and Dick seized his crutches and
+swung himself hurriedly into the house to reappear
+a minute later ready for the journey. Gordon and
+Fudge walked to the corner with him.</p>
+
+<p>“How about another game with those fellows,
+Dick?” asked Gordon. “Are you going to see Billings
+to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“If you want me to. There’s time enough, though,
+I guess. We’ve got a game with Lesterville the day
+after to-morrow, as you perhaps recall.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know, but I was thinking we might get the
+Pointers to come over and play us a week from Saturday.
+You might see what Billings thinks about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. If I can find him I’ll ask. By the way,
+he’ll have to find someone to take Morris’ place, won’t
+he? Guess, though, it won’t be hard to do. Here
+comes my car. See you later, fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon and Fudge mounted their wheels again
+when the trolley had rolled off and pedaled leisurely
+along Sawyer Street.</p>
+
+<p>“Too bad,” observed Fudge, “that Dick hasn’t got
+that automobile, Gordie. It would save him a lot of
+hard work, wouldn’t it? Say, someone may run off
+with it if it stays out there on the road much longer.
+Bet you half of it’s gone already!”</p>
+
+<p>There was no reply from Gordon, who was riding
+slowly along with his gaze fixed intently on his handle-bar.</p>
+
+<p>“You ought to have hidden it behind a tree or something
+before you came away, Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>“Eh? Hidden what?”</p>
+
+<p>“The automobile, of course. Say, what did you
+think I was talking about, anyway?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I didn’t hear you,” replied Gordon apologetically.
+“I—I was thinking.”</p>
+
+<p>“Some day you’ll be doing that and get run down
+by a trolley car,” commented Fudge crushingly.
+“What were you thinking about?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing much,” answered Gordon. “Want to play
+some tennis?”</p>
+
+<p>“My racket’s busted. I can borrow Lanny’s,
+though. But I guess it’s too hot for tennis, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe. I suppose, anyway, I’d ought to see Mr.
+Brent and tell him what that fellow said. There’s
+no use putting it off. Will you come with me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to speak of! I’d do most anything for you,
+Gordie, but not that!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, ride down town with me. You needn’t
+go in.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s fair. And I’ll try to catch you when he
+drops you out the window. Come on.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c11'>CHAPTER XI<br/>FUDGE SCENTS A SECRET</h2>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent was not in. The clerk, recognizing
+Gordon as the youth who had called
+previously and been admitted, explained, in
+answer to his look of perplexity, that Mr. Brent had
+been suddenly called to New York and would be
+gone at least overnight.</p>
+
+<p>“He didn’t leave any message for me, did he?”
+asked the boy.</p>
+
+<p>“No. He went away hurriedly. If it’s very important,
+you can reach him in New York by telephone
+this afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon departed, shaking his head. On the sidewalk
+he was presently joined by Fudge, who came out
+of Castle’s drug store, a few doors away, with a suspicious
+moistness about the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>“You’re soon back,” he said. “Did he throw you
+out?”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s away. Gone to New York. Now what’ll I
+do?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do nothing. That’s easy. I should think you’d
+be tickled to death.”</p>
+
+<p>“But that automobile can’t stay out there on the
+road forever, Fudge. Someone will steal it or pull it
+to pieces or something. I guess I’ll go over to the
+Brents’ and see what Louise thinks we’d better do.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh! What’s a girl know about it?” demanded
+Fudge. “Say, I had a soda. Want one?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon shook his head at first but finally allowed
+himself to be conducted to the front of the long white
+marble counter. A nice cold raspberry phosphate is
+an awfully good thing to soothe the mind, and Gordon
+felt more cheerful when he emerged. Fudge, who
+had followed his original root beer with a pineapple
+phosphate, confided to Gordon on the way home that
+he believed he’d apply at Castle’s for a job at the
+soda fountain.</p>
+
+<p>“You see,” he explained, “I never had enough soda
+yet, and if I worked there I’ll bet I’d have a dandy
+time!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon postponed his call at Brentwood until after
+dinner and in the meanwhile presented his problem to
+his father. Mr. Merrick’s advice was caution. He
+thought Gordon had best let the automobile alone unless
+he obtained authority from Mr. Brent or perhaps
+Mrs. Brent to rescue it. When he reached Brentwood
+he asked for Louise and that young lady soon
+joined him. Morris, she reported, was very comfortable,
+considering the fact that his left leg was in
+a cast, but the doctor didn’t want him to see anyone
+quite yet. Gordon was secretly relieved, for he was
+afraid he wouldn’t know just how to behave or just
+what to say to an invalid. Louise led the way to
+the porch and then disappeared in search of her
+mother. When that lady appeared Gordon had to
+listen to many nice things and many expressions of
+gratitude, all of which embarrassed him horribly.</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Brent was a short, comfortably stout lady with
+soft, quiet manners and a voice to match. Gordon
+liked her immensely, but just now he found himself
+wishing that he might have escaped her. It was Louise
+who, noting his unhappiness, finally came to his
+rescue.</p>
+
+<p>“There, mama, you’re embarrassing Gordon awfully.
+I’m sure he doesn’t want to be thanked any
+more. Besides, he didn’t come to make a social call;
+he’s here on important business. He told me so.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon explained the difficulty about the abandoned
+automobile and asked them what he had better do.
+“You see,” he pointed out, “Mr. Stacey won’t go after
+it unless someone tells him to. I was thinking that
+perhaps the best thing would be to have one of the
+liverymen bring it back and keep it until Mr. Brent decides
+about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I don’t know what to say,” replied Mrs.
+Brent. “If Mr. Brent says he won’t pay the man the
+rest of the money, why, he won’t, and that’s all there
+is to that. But, of course, the automobile can’t stay
+on the road. I suppose, Louise, we oughtn’t to worry
+Morris with it just yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“Goodness, no! What does it matter what happens
+to the horrid old thing, anyway, mama? Let someone
+bring it into town and keep it. I’m sure Morris will
+never want to see it again, even if papa is willing;
+and of course he won’t be.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then if Gordon will see to it<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, I will. I’ll get Stewart to go after it. I
+guess he can pull it if he puts a timber under the
+broken wheel. There wouldn’t be room in your stable
+for it, would there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, there would,” replied Louise. “There’s lots
+of room in the carriage-house. Tell Stewart to bring
+it here, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. That would be the best thing, I guess.
+Stewart would probably charge storage for it if he
+kept it at his stable. I suppose he will want quite a
+little money to haul it in, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell him to charge it to papa, Gordon. Do you
+mind attending to it? It’s awfully nice of you to take
+so much trouble for us. You’ll begin to think we’re
+a pretty bothersome family, I’m afraid.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to, Louise. I wish
+you’d remember me to Morris, please. I—I’ll call and
+see him some time after he’s able to have visitors. Is
+there anything I can do for him, Mrs. Brent?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think not, Gordon. You’ve done so much already<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t have done any less,” murmured Gordon
+hurriedly, fearing that Mrs. Brent was about to
+express her gratitude again. “Folks—folks made more
+of it than it—really amounted to. I guess I’ll go
+and see Stewart. I hope Morris will get along finely
+and—and everything.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose,” he said, after he had bade good-bye
+to Mrs. Brent, “you won’t get over to the Point for
+some time, Louise.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not for a month, probably. I don’t mind a
+great deal. The main thing is to get Morris well
+again. It’s going to be terribly dull and stupid for
+him, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fierce!” They had paused at the gate. “If there’s
+anything I can do, or anything any of us can do,
+Louise<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Not now, but you can do a lot later,” she replied
+smilingly. “You can come and see him and cheer
+him up in a day or two. Will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course! Glad to! And I’ll bring the other
+fellows, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess there aren’t very many others, are there?”</p>
+
+<p>“Many others?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Many others who would care to come, I mean.
+Morris doesn’t seem to have very many boy friends,
+does he?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I don’t know. I guess every fellow likes
+Morris<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Fibber! Never mind, though. You come when
+you can, Gordon. Good-bye. I’ll tell Ryan to get a
+place ready for the automobile.”</p>
+
+<p>His way to Stewart’s stable led him past Lanny’s
+house and he slowed down as he reached the gate
+and whistled. Lanny appeared from around the
+house with a bicycle chain dangling in his hand.</p>
+
+<p>“Come on over to Stewart’s stable with me,” commanded
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Can’t.” Lanny exhibited the chain. “Chain’s
+busted. I’ve been trying to fix it, but I think I’ll have
+to take it to the shop.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bring it along, then, and we’ll walk. I’ll stick
+my wheel back of the fence here. I’ve got something
+I want to talk to you about.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Wait till I get some of this dirt off
+my hands. It won’t take a minute.” As a matter of
+fact, it took five, and Gordon was established comfortably
+on the horse-block in front of the gate when
+Lanny returned. Together they went on along B
+Street and turned into River Street, talking very earnestly
+all the way and more than once pausing stock-still
+on the sidewalk. Whatever the subject of conversation
+was, it was easy to see that Lanny was both
+interested and enthusiastic, and at last, just before
+their halting progress landed them outside the livery
+stable, Lanny clapped a hand on Gordon’s shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a peach of a scheme!” he declared. “Does
+he know anything about it?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon shook his head. “I just thought of it awhile
+ago, after I’d seen him. I don’t think we’d better say
+anything to him about it, Lanny, because he’d probably
+refuse.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s so. The best way is to go ahead and do it—and
+tell him afterward.” Lanny chuckled. “The
+other fellows will have to know, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but we’ll make them promise not to talk.
+Gee, if I don’t hurry that automobile will stay out
+another night, I guess!”</p>
+
+<p>But fortunately Mr. Stewart had a truck and horses
+that could be at once dispatched on the errand and the
+two boys waited while the expedition made ready. Mr.
+Stewart himself, a good-natured little red-faced
+Scotchman, proposed to accompany the truck and personally
+superintend the project. Afterward Gordon
+went with Lanny to the bicycle repair shop and waited
+while a new link was put in the broken chain. Later
+in the afternoon they mounted their wheels and, with
+Fudge, who had joined them meanwhile, rode over
+to the back entrance of Brentwood and awaited the
+arrival of the automobile. It came about half-past
+five and was rolled into a corner of the big carriage-house.
+Then Gordon and Lanny and Fudge took stock
+of injuries. One wheel was smashed and the front
+axle was bent. It didn’t require an expert to determine
+that much. For the rest, barring a broken lantern
+and bent fenders and a dent in the radiator, the car
+was as good as new so far as they could see.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish I knew enough about cars to try it and see
+if the engine is all right,” said Gordon. “But I don’t
+see how anything can be wrong there, do you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I guess the wheels will go around same as before,”
+said Lanny. “How much do you suppose it
+will cost to fix it up?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon shook his head. “Maybe thirty dollars,”
+he said finally. “What do you think?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bet it will be nearer a hundred,” said Fudge. “Repairs
+on automobiles cost like anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fudge knows,” remarked Lanny. “His repair bills
+are something frightful, aren’t they, Fudge? Why, he
+was saying just the other day, Gordie, that he had half
+a mind to sell two or three of his cars!”</p>
+
+<p>“Th-that’s all right,” sputtered Fudge. “I’ve heard
+Mr. T-T-Turner say th-th-that<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you have,” agreed Gordon soothingly.
+“By the way, Lanny, heard the latest? Fudge is going
+to get a job with Castle at the soda fountain.”</p>
+
+<p>“That s-s-s-s-so?” laughed Lanny.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes. Can’t you see Fudge, with a white apron on,
+leaning across the counter asking, ‘What kind of s-s-s-s-soda
+will you have, Miss?’”</p>
+
+<p>“‘S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,’” responded Lanny.</p>
+
+<p>“‘S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we’re all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla.
+We’ve got s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate,
+though.’”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, dry up,” said Fudge, with a grin. “If you fellows
+come around there I’ll p-p-poison you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, come on, fellows, it’s supper time,” said
+Lanny. “Don’t you take that car out and go ‘joy
+riding,’ Mr. Ryan.”</p>
+
+<p>“Huh!” growled the Brent coachman, who had
+viewed the proceedings with deep pessimism. “I
+wouldn’t touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How
+do I know it won’t be blowin’ me up some fine
+night?”</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t if you treat it kindly,” Fudge assured
+him. “Give it plenty of oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and
+a drink of gasoline now and then and it’ll be as quiet
+as a lamb.”</p>
+
+<p>They left the coachman muttering over the harness
+he was cleaning and got on their wheels. “Who will
+you get to look at it?” asked Lanny as they rolled
+homeward.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I’ll
+have to talk with Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I
+guess. And maybe it won’t come to anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“What won’t?” asked Fudge suspiciously.</p>
+
+<p>“Never you mind, son. It’s something that doesn’t
+concern little boys.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go on and tell me,” begged Fudge. “Is it a secret?”</p>
+
+<p>“It wouldn’t be if you knew it,” answered Gordon
+unkindly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’d like to know when I ever blabbed anything,”
+exclaimed Fudge indignantly. “Didn’t I know all
+about Charlie Matthews a whole week before anyone
+else did? And didn’t I<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we may tell you some time,” teased Gordon.
+“What do you think, Lanny?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. It would cost money to advertise it in
+the paper, and so<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you make me tired,” growled Fudge. “I don’t
+want to know it anyway. ’Tain’t anything, I’ll bet!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a thing, Fudge,” agreed Lanny.</p>
+
+<p>“Then what you so—so mysterious about?” Fudge
+demanded.</p>
+
+<p>“To arouse your curiosity, Fudge. Good-night, Gordie.
+Maybe you’d better tell him before he busts up.
+Good-night, Fudge. Say, we play Lesterville Saturday,
+don’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet! And don’t forget practice again to-morrow.
+We want to beat those fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’ve got a perfect record so far,” laughed
+Lanny. “Our percentage is one thousand. Played
+one, won one, lost none. Are the Pointers going to
+play us again?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! I told Dick to see Caspar Billings to-day
+if he had a chance and see if they’d come over here
+a week from Saturday.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s good. Bet you, though, they lick us next
+time. So long.”</p>
+
+<p>Lanny sped homeward and Gordon and Fudge
+parted midway between their gates. “You come over
+after supper, Fudge, and I’ll tell you what that is we
+were talking about.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, but I guess I don’t care to know,” replied
+Fudge a trifle haughtily. Gordon laughed.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be a chump. We were only fooling. All the
+fellows are going to know about it, but I’ll tell you
+first if you’ll come over.”</p>
+
+<p>“You told Lanny first,” Fudge objected doubtfully.
+“But—I’ll come.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c12'>CHAPTER XII<br/>A REVERSED DECISION</h2>
+
+<p>Two days later the Clearfield Baseball Club
+met at the railroad station shortly after dinner
+time and boarded the train for Lesterville.
+Only Harry Bryan was missing. A press of
+business had developed at the grocery store and Mr.
+Bryan had, to Harry’s sorrow, set his foot down on a
+Saturday holiday. A small youth named Tim Turner,
+a youthful crony of Fudge’s, was drafted to play in
+right field and Jack Tappen was moved to second in
+Harry’s place.</p>
+
+<p>None of the fellows was very hopeful of beating
+Lesterville, for the neighboring mill town had maintained
+for several years a nine which averaged fully
+two years older than Clearfield. But, as Dick pointed
+out, the game would be fine practice, even if they were
+beaten. “We really need,” said Dick, “to run up
+against a spanking good nine and see how the game is
+played.”</p>
+
+<p>Some of the fellows hooted at that, but Dick only
+smiled. “That’s all right,” he replied. “I’ll wager
+that you’ll learn one or two tricks to-day worth knowing.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s their pitcher like?” inquired Fudge anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>“They have two of them, Fudge, and they’re both
+pretty good.”</p>
+
+<p>“They won’t be hard for Fudge,” said Pete Robey.
+“Fudge will eat ’em alive!”</p>
+
+<p>“Bet you I make as many hits as you do,” responded
+Fudge eagerly. “Come on, now! Wh-wh-what do
+you say?”</p>
+
+<p>But Pete only grinned and shook his head. You
+couldn’t start an argument with Pete.</p>
+
+<p>On the way to Lesterville Dick exhibited a list of
+games which he had already arranged. Rutter’s Point
+was to play a return contest on the High School field
+a week from to-day, Logan was to visit Clearfield the
+following Wednesday and Corwin was to come a week
+later. “We have next Wednesday open,” explained
+Dick, “and a week from Saturday. I don’t believe
+we’ll be able to find a game for Wednesday, but I’ve
+written Shirley at Springdale to get up a team to play
+us that Saturday. I’ve told him we’d go over there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fine!” exclaimed Tom Haley. “I’d love to have
+another chance at those fellows!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I suppose it won’t be quite the same team
+that we played last month,” said Dick. “I dare say
+some of their fellows have gone away for the summer.
+But that gives us three games anyhow, and
+perhaps four. And I heard of a team over at Locust
+Valley which may like to play us.”</p>
+
+<p>“All those games are at home, too,” reflected Lanny.
+“How about trying that scheme to charge admission,
+Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>“No harm in trying it,” returned the manager
+thoughtfully. “Whether it will go or not we’ll have to
+see. We could get a few notices printed and stick
+them around in the windows down town. And I guess
+the paper will announce the games if we ask.”</p>
+
+<p>“A lot of folks will pay a quarter to see a good
+game,” said Jack Tappen.</p>
+
+<p>“Would you?” challenged Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure,” laughed Jack, “if I had the quarter!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not if he could find a crack in the fence,” said
+Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” announced Will Scott, “someone said
+they were surveying the athletic field, Dick. Suppose
+they start to work there in a day or two. We couldn’t
+play those games, could we?”</p>
+
+<p>“In that case we’ll play the teams on their own
+grounds.”</p>
+
+<p>“It makes it pretty expensive,” objected Way. “I’m
+nearly broke now. If I lose my return ticket someone
+will have to pay my fare back.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, the walking’s good,” replied Tom carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>“Another thing,” said Lanny. “If we play away
+from home we can’t make any money.”</p>
+
+<p>At that most of the fellows observed each other with
+questioning and somewhat dismayed glances. Dick,
+studying his list, replied:</p>
+
+<p>“That doesn’t make much difference, does it? None
+of those places are far away and it won’t break us to
+pay trolley fares. After all, we don’t need the money
+as far as I see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t we!” exploded Jack. “We need it like anything!”</p>
+
+<p>Curtis Wayland kicked him on the ankle and Jack
+subsided.</p>
+
+<p>“What for?” asked Dick, mildly surprised. “We’ve
+got four balls that haven’t been used and three that
+are still good. We’ve got bats and gloves and a
+mask and about everything else. I thought we were
+in this for the fun of it. What do we want to make
+money for?”</p>
+
+<p>But Jack only mumbled, while the others regarded
+him with threatening looks. Will Scott changed the
+subject gracefully.</p>
+
+<p>“You fellows don’t want to forget that there’s a
+meeting to-night about the new field. You’d better
+all show up. We want to get as many there as possible.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thought it was just a meeting of the committee,”
+said Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“No, it’s public. We want to find out what the
+fellows think about it before we go ahead and do
+anything.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see that there’s more than one thing we
+can think about it,” observed Tom. “The old field’s
+going and we’ve got to have another. That’s dead
+simple.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but we may have to rent ground,” replied
+Way. “And we want to know how far out of town
+fellows are willing to go. And how much we ought
+to pay.”</p>
+
+<p>“And whether to get a place on the town side or
+across the river. There’s a field over toward the
+Point, right near the car line, that might do.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a long way from school, though,” objected
+Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Any place we find is going to be a long way,” replied
+Will. “There isn’t any place in town big enough
+to play baseball on. As a matter of fact, the whole
+thing is a good deal of a puzzle. It’s going to cost
+us a lot of money, any way you look at it. We’ve
+got to have a new track and we’ve got to fence the
+field in and move the grandstand to it. It’s going
+to cost like sixty. I wish old man Brent had to make
+us a present of the old field or lose his money.”</p>
+
+<p>“Stingy old codger,” muttered Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s no sense in blaming Mr. Brent, Fudge,”
+said Dick. “We ought to be grateful to him for
+letting us have the field as long as he has. What we’ll
+have to do is get subscriptions from the graduates
+and anyone else we can. The next station is ours,
+fellows. Get your bags together.”</p>
+
+<p>Lesterville was an unlovely town filled with smoking
+chimneys and the busy whirr of looms. A
+muddy canal intersected it and on either side immense
+brick mill buildings ran for the better part
+of a mile. But the boys didn’t tarry long in the town.
+A green trolley car bore them swiftly away from
+the belching chimneys and the hot, weary looking
+streets and out to the edge of the country. The
+ball ground was surrounded by a sagging fence and
+was ridiculously small. A long hit down the right
+or left foul line was certain to go over the fence,
+while even a good clout into center was likely to disappear
+through some hole in the rotting boards. A
+few unsheltered seats were clustered close to the first
+base line and these were already occupied when the
+Clearfield team arrived. The dressing-room was a
+ten-foot square space, unroofed, thrown together behind
+the stand. As the fellows changed into their
+togs the spectators on the top row of seats looked
+down upon them and offered sarcastic advice and rude
+comments. Fudge in particular aroused their humor
+and he was pestered so that he got his playing shirt
+on wrong side to.</p>
+
+<p>The Lesterville nine was a pretty husky aggregation.
+Most of them were mill employees and their
+average age must have been fully eighteen. The audience
+was particularly partisan and offensive, and Dick,
+settling himself on the visitors’ bench in the broiling
+sun and opening his score-book, reflected that it was
+perhaps well that there was no likelihood of Clearfield
+going home with the ball. He fancied that the
+hundred or so local sympathizers would make it quite
+uncomfortable for the visiting team if it won!</p>
+
+<p>There’s no necessity of following Clearfield’s fortunes
+that afternoon in detail. The contest was fairly
+featureless up to the eighth inning. The visitors could
+do nothing with Moriarity, the Lesterville pitcher,
+only three hits, one of them distinctly scratchy, accruing
+to their score and bringing in but one tally.
+On the other hand the home team showed itself very
+capable with the stick and Tom Haley’s best offerings
+were not puzzling after the second inning.</p>
+
+<p>A slight attack of stage-fright in that round on the
+part of Clearfield aided the home players. Almost
+every member of the visitors’ infield managed to make
+an error, while Tom’s wild throw to first in the third
+allowed Lesterville to add two runs to her already
+swelling score. When the eighth inning began Lesterville
+had nine runs to Clearfield’s one, and there
+seemed no reason to suppose that the final tally would
+be any more complimentary to Clearfield.</p>
+
+<p>Dick had predicted that his charges would learn
+some new tricks and his prediction was verified. Clearfield
+was the innocent victim of several plays quite
+outside her ken. Unfortunately, most of them were
+the sort she didn’t care to emulate. For instance, when
+Curtis Wayland tried to steal second on Jack Tappen’s
+lucky grounder into short right he failed for
+the simple reason that second baseman and shortstop
+occupied the base line and Way had to crawl
+around them to touch the bag. Unfortunately, by that
+time right fielder had sped the ball to shortstop, and
+the umpire, a young gentleman whose impartiality had
+all along been in grave doubt, ruled Way out. Of
+course Clearfield protested. Way lost his head and
+threatened bodily injury to the second baseman, who
+topped him by six inches, and some dozen or so Lesterville
+youths flocked to the scene. Gordon, however,
+lugged Way, protesting bitterly, from the field
+and then quietly asked the umpire to reverse his decision.
+But the umpire wouldn’t even listen and there
+was nothing for the visitors to do but swallow their
+indignation and accept the ruling. Again, earlier in
+the contest, the Lesterville pitcher objected to having
+a new ball thrown to him after Lanny had fouled a
+soiled one into the street, and turning, threw the new
+one far into center field. The center fielder refused
+to go after it and the umpire yielded, throwing out
+another old ball.</p>
+
+<p>Still, Lesterville did show some playing that the
+visitors opened their eyes at. Such base-running Gordon’s
+team had never witnessed. One red-headed
+youth named Myers never failed to steal second yards
+ahead of the ball and on one occasion stole all the
+way around the bases, reaching home on Tom’s wind-up
+and subsequent hurried and wild pitch. The Lesterville
+fellows were born ball players and had graduated
+from the back lots outside the factories. They
+knew every trick of the game and used them all.</p>
+
+<p>When Clearfield went to bat in the eighth it was
+Jack’s turn with the stick and Jack connected with a
+straight one and slammed it far out into left field,
+where it banged against the fence and rolled away
+from the fielder while Jack reached second with time
+to spare. Tim Turner fanned, Pete Robey worked a
+pass and Lanny hit into what should have been an
+easy double. But the Lesterville second baseman fumbled
+the ball and the bases were full. Unfortunately,
+with one out, it was Fudge’s turn at bat and Tom
+Haley followed Fudge. It looked to the visitors on
+the bench very much like another shut-out. But Fudge,
+perhaps still smarting under the gibes that had been
+thrown at him all the afternoon, surprised himself
+and everyone else by hitting cleanly between first and
+second. Two runs came in, Lanny reached third and
+Fudge stood panting on first. Tom Haley went out
+on strikes and Will Scott came to bat. Fudge stole
+without challenge. Will fouled off three and had two
+balls to his credit. Then something that looked good
+came his way and he swung at it mightily. The ball
+streaked far out into center field and the bases emptied.
+Will got to second safely, heard the frantic cries of
+the coachers and sprinted for third. Then in came
+the ball to shortstop, and that youth turned quickly
+and pegged to third. The sphere went fully four feet
+above third baseman’s head and Will legged it
+home while his team-mates on the bench shouted and
+cavorted and Dick, being unable to jump around, beat
+the ground with a crutch!</p>
+
+<p>Nine to seven looked a heap better than nine to one,
+and there was still but one man out. Clearfield had
+ecstatic visions of a victory. But the Lesterville
+pitcher settled down and disposed of Gordon with five
+pitched balls and made Way pop up an easy fly to right
+fielder, and the eighth inning was over for the visitors.</p>
+
+<p>Lesterville came back in her half with vigor and
+poor Tom was kept dodging liners that soon filled
+the bases. But the home team had a streak of bad
+luck in that inning. The runner from third was struck
+by a streaking liner that was meant for left field, and,
+fortunately for the opponents, the ball, after colliding
+sharply with the base-runner’s leg, rolled toward the
+pitcher’s box and Tom scooped it up and got it to
+first ahead of the batsman, who, counting on a two-base
+hit, had made a slow start. Lesterville resented
+her ill-fortune and, with two gone, the next batsman
+sent a long fly into left field that barely escaped going
+over the fence and had Way chasing around like a
+chicken with its head off while two tallies were added
+to Lesterville’s nine. A moment later Tom secured his
+fifth strike-out of the contest and the teams changed
+sides.</p>
+
+<p>There was still a chance to win, declared Dick, and
+Jack was instructed to lay down a bunt along third
+base line. Jack followed instructions deftly and to
+the letter. The ball trickled a scant ten feet and, although
+third baseman came in for it and both
+catcher and pitcher did their best, Jack was easily
+safe. Young Turner, instructed to sacrifice Jack to
+second, did his best but struck out miserably for the
+fourth time. Pete got the signal for a hit-and-run
+play and swung at the third ball. He missed it, but
+the Lesterville catcher, who so far had been pegging
+the ball to second with deadly aim, threw
+low and before the shortstop had secured the ball
+Jack was sprawled in the dust with one foot on the
+bag.</p>
+
+<p>Pete, with two strikes against him, was wary. Twice
+he spoiled good ones by fouling and then he was
+caught napping and retired to the bench with trailing
+bat. With two down the game looked to be over.
+But Lanny evidently thought otherwise, for he hit
+the first delivery squarely on the nose and Jack leaped
+away for third. The ball sped high toward center and
+although second baseman made a gallant attempt to get
+it, it went over his head. Jack turned third and
+streaked for the plate. The center fielder, however,
+had come in fast and now the ball was flying to the
+catcher. Lanny sped to second on the throw-in. Ten
+feet away from the home plate Jack hurled himself
+feet-foremost through a cloud of dust, rolled over the
+base and out of the way just as the ball settled into
+the catcher’s mitt. The umpire spread his hands wide
+to signify that the runner was safe, but the catcher
+turned fiercely on him.</p>
+
+<p>“He never touched it!” he bawled. “Look at where
+he went!” He indicated a mark far back of the plate.</p>
+
+<p>“Who didn’t touch it?” demanded Jack, scandalized
+and indignant. “I rolled over it!”</p>
+
+<p>Players ran up excitedly. The umpire hesitated,
+glanced from the belligerent catcher to the
+astounded Jack, shook his head and said: “He’s
+out!”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>What!</i>” shrieked Jack.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure you’re out,” said the pitcher with a grin.
+“You didn’t go anywhere near the plate. Beat it,
+kid!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon grabbed Jack’s arm and hustled him toward
+the bench, pursued by the laughter of the Lesterville
+players and the gibes of the spectators, crowding off
+the stand. At second Lanny got to his feet and
+tramped morosely in to the bench.</p>
+
+<p>“I was all over the plate!” Jack was declaring
+fiercely. “He’s a robber!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course you were,” agreed Gordon soothingly.
+“He knows it, but he’s scared of the bunch. Never
+mind, it’s all in the day’s work, Jack.”</p>
+
+<p>“I tell you I was safe!” sputtered Jack. “What do
+you want to quit for? Why don’t you make them
+play it out?”</p>
+
+<p>“No good, Jack. Shut up and change your things.
+We’ve got to hustle for the train.”</p>
+
+<p>Just then the Lesterville captain walked up to Gordon.
+“Say,” he said, “we’ll play you fellows again
+some time if you like. You put up a good game, all
+right, Merrick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, I dare say we can get together again,” replied
+Gordon not overly enthusiastic. “I’ll let you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Next time we’ll have a decent umpire,” cried Jack,
+pausing on his way to the dressing shed. “That man’s
+a thief!”</p>
+
+<p>“Aw, don’t be a baby,” growled the opposing captain.
+“You were out all right enough. I saw the
+play, didn’t I?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t care whether you did or not. I was perfectly
+safe. I crossed the plate before the ball ever
+got to him!”</p>
+
+<p>“What if you did, kid? You didn’t touch it. That
+ump is all right. The trouble is you can’t take a beating.
+Chase yourself.”</p>
+
+<p>Jack was fighting mad then and pushed his way
+back, but Gordon and some of the others seized him,
+while the stragglers from the audience clustered
+around, eager for trouble.</p>
+
+<p>“Jack, you get out of here,” directed Dick sternly.</p>
+
+<p>“Like fun I will! That big chump can’t tell
+me<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Just one more word and you’ll be suspended!”
+Dick spoke very quietly. Jack stared open-mouthed,
+his gaze traveling from the derisive face of the Lesterville
+captain to the stern countenance of the Clearfield
+manager. Gordon and Lanny still held him firmly.
+He swallowed hard, rewarded Dick with a baleful
+glare and said:</p>
+
+<p>“Go ahead and suspend! You’re a peach of a manager,
+anyhow, to stand around and let those robbers
+swipe the game on us! You<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>But Gordon and Lanny hustled him promptly
+through the throng at that, the crowd dissolved and
+the field emptied. In spite of Jack’s protest the game
+was recorded: Lesterville, 11; Clearfield, 7.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c13'>CHAPTER XIII<br/>JACK IS SUSPENDED</h2>
+
+<p>They talked it over on the way back in the
+train and the consensus of Clearfield opinion
+was that, taking into consideration the indisputable
+fact that the umpire had been against them
+all through the game, the final score was nothing to
+be ashamed of. Only Jack failed to subscribe with
+any enthusiasm to that verdict. Jack frankly sulked.</p>
+
+<p>Dick called Gordon over to his seat after the discussion
+had waned and the fellows had quieted down.
+“Who,” he asked, moving his crutches to make room
+for Gordon, “can we get to take Jack’s place?”</p>
+
+<p>“To take Jack’s place?” exclaimed Gordon. “Why,
+what’s the matter with Jack?”</p>
+
+<p>“I thought you understood that he was suspended,”
+replied Dick calmly. “I certainly gave him a fair warning.”</p>
+
+<p>“But—but—” blurted Gordon in bewilderment,
+“you can’t do that!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon stared. Finally, “Are you in earnest?” he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Of course. I’m manager of this team. And while
+I’m manager the fellows have got to behave. Jack
+was all wrong. He had no business talking like that.
+In the first place, it wasn’t up to him to protest the
+decision. In the next place he might have got us into
+a nasty row with those toughs over there. They were
+dying for a scrap all along. If they had started anything
+we’d have got pretty well mussed up,
+Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon nodded. “I know,” he said gloomily,
+“but—Jack was excited, Dick. And it <i>was</i> a robbery.
+You can’t blame him for getting a bit hot about
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t. I blame him for showing it, or, at least,
+proclaiming it. If I’m manager, I’m going to manage.
+If I can’t manage, I’m not manager. Which is
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, you’re manager, of course, Dick. But—Jack
+won’t like being suspended. In fact, he will
+probably get mad and quit altogether.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think so,” replied Dick. “But that’s his
+look-out. He’s suspended for a week—if I’m manager.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” muttered Gordon. “Of course, you
+realize that leaves us in a hole next Saturday, Dick.
+Jack’s one of our best players, and I don’t know
+where we’ll find anyone to take his place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Neither do I yet. But we’ve got a whole week to
+find someone. He’d be suspended, though, if he was
+the last player on the team.”</p>
+
+<p>“Are you going to tell him?” asked Gordon uneasily.
+Dick smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“Evidently you don’t care to?”</p>
+
+<p>“I surely don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I’ll tell him. He ought to know it, though,
+because I usually mean what I say. You needn’t
+mention it to anyone to-day. I’ll have a talk with
+him to-morrow, maybe.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’ll quit flat-footed,” mourned Gordon. Dick
+smiled again.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe so. I think I know Jack a little
+better than you do, Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>The next afternoon, an hour or so after dinner,
+Dick called Gordon on the telephone. “Can you come
+around here for a few minutes?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I was just starting, Dick. Anything up?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not much. I wanted to talk to you about a chap
+for Jack’s place.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh! You—you haven’t changed your mind about
+that, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“No.” Dick’s voice sounded amused.</p>
+
+<p>“Well<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” Gordon frowned at the telephone instrument.
+“I’ll be over right away, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick was on the porch, in spite of the fact that it
+was raining briskly, and his sister, Grace, was with
+him. Grace was thirteen and a very pretty girl, with
+dark hair and eyes. She was enveloped in a long
+apron and had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and
+explained to Gordon that she was in the middle of
+washing up the dinner dishes.</p>
+
+<p>“Dick called me out to read me a perfectly ridiculous
+story in the paper,” she laughed. “Read to
+Gordon, Dick, and see if he thinks it funny.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick laughed. “Grace was born without a sense
+of humor, Gordie, and I find I can’t educate her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sense of humor!” scoffed Grace. “That story isn’t
+the least bit funny. I’ll leave it to Gordon.” She
+jumped up. “I must finish those dishes.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the story?” asked Gordon, seating himself
+well away from the dripping vines.</p>
+
+<p>“The story? Oh, never mind that! Jack’s just
+been here.”</p>
+
+<p>“He has? Well—what—how did he take it?” asked
+Gordon anxiously.</p>
+
+<p>Dick gravely regarded the point of one shoe. “Well,
+I’ll tell you the last thing he said as he went off, Gordie.
+He said: ‘Tell Gordon I know a fellow named
+Shores who works in the plating factory. He’s a
+pretty good ball player. If you like, I’ll talk to him
+and see if he will play for us Saturday.’”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon viewed his friend with admiration, and
+shook his head helplessly. “I don’t see how you
+manage folks the way you do, Dick,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>“That comes of being manager,” laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“If I’d told Jack he was suspended for a week he’d
+have sassed me and gone off in a huff and never
+played again!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, no, he wouldn’t! Jack’s a good, sensible
+chap. He’s a little bit stuck on himself, but that
+doesn’t matter, and he will get over it some time. I
+just told him that he was wrong, and made him see
+it. And I convinced him without much trouble that
+it was for the good of the team that he should sit
+on the bench for a week. Of course, he was a bit
+huffed at first, but he got over that. In fact, Gordie,
+I think he’s rather proud of being suspended. It
+sounds sort of professional and big-leaguish!”</p>
+
+<p>“You could convince a fellow it was a real pleasure
+to have his head cut off!” said Gordon. “I wish
+I had your—your diplomacy.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a big word for it, Gordie. Last night’s
+meeting was rather a fizzle, wasn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon nodded gloomily. “I don’t see how we’re
+going to get a field in time for football practice if we
+don’t do more than we did last night.”</p>
+
+<p>“Too much talk,” agreed Dick. “Somebody ought
+to just go ahead and find a field and then make
+a report on it. As for paying a hundred and
+twenty-five dollars a year rent for one, why,
+that’s poppycock. We couldn’t afford it, especially
+as we’ll have to build a running track before next
+Spring.”</p>
+
+<p>“Way suggested that we could transfer next
+Spring’s meet to Springdale. That would give us
+nearly two years to fix up a track.”</p>
+
+<p>“Not a bad idea. Most of the fellows seemed to
+fancy that place across the river beyond the carpet
+mills. It would be fairly near home, but it’s a mean
+part of town.”</p>
+
+<p>“Punk! If we have to find a new place—and I
+suppose we must—I’m for going out toward the
+Point. Fellows seem to think it’s too far out there,
+but you can jump on the trolley and get there in no
+time. They’d put a stop opposite the field for us if
+we asked.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I should think Mr. Brent would do that
+much for us since he’s taking our field away,” agreed
+Dick. “By the way, seen Morris yet?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; I thought I’d go over this afternoon and see
+how he is. Maybe he’s receiving callers by this time.
+Dick, do you know anything about running an automobile?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick stared. Then he laughed. “Well, hardly,
+Gordie! How should I?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, of course you’ve never run one, but you
+know such a raft of stuff fellows usually don’t know
+that<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“You thought I’d made a study of autos? No, I’m
+afraid I can’t advise you much, Gordie. Thinking of
+buying one?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no, not exactly.”</p>
+
+<p>“Going to rent it, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, you idiot. I—I only wondered. I dare say
+you could drive an automobile finely, though. Your
+arms are all right and you told me once that you
+thought of getting one of those velocipede chairs
+that you work with your feet.”</p>
+
+<p>“I see what you’re driving at. Old Man Brent has
+commissioned you to sell that car of Morris’. Is that
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon looked startled, but shook his head. “No,
+he hasn’t. I dare say, though, anyone could buy it
+pretty cheap,” he remarked carelessly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m afraid I couldn’t afford it, Gordie,” Dick
+laughed. “You’ll have to find another buyer.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. I was just wondering if you <i>could</i> run
+an auto if you had one.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I suppose so. I’ve got plenty of strength
+in my legs when I’m sitting down, you know, and so
+far my arms are still working. But I don’t believe
+I’ll ever have a chance to try, Gordie. At least, not
+unless you get an auto and let me run it for you.
+How would I do as a chauffeur?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bet you could run an auto to the King’s taste,
+Dick! You do most everything better than the rest
+of us.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean I think I could! Well, I’m not stuck-up
+about my automobile driving, Gordie. That’s one
+thing I’m not conceited about. Going now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I guess I’d better run over to Morris’. I
+told his sister I’d look in pretty soon. When he can
+see folks, Dick, will you go over with me some time?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course. Glad to. Let me know when you
+want to go.”</p>
+
+<p>“Really?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. I thought—you seemed sort of
+down on Mr. Brent and maybe you wouldn’t want to
+go to his house.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m not as down on him as all that,” laughed
+Dick. “And, anyhow, his house never did anything
+to me.” He paused and added soberly: “For that
+matter, Gordie, I don’t want you to think that I am
+really sore against Mr. Brent. Sometimes I get sort
+of peeved about that affair of dad’s, but maybe, after
+all, it was more his fault than Mr. Brent’s. Anyway,
+I’ve never accused Jonathan Brent of being dishonest.
+I don’t think he is. Give my regards to Morris
+if you see him, and tell him I’ll come over and call
+some day if he doesn’t mind. See you to-morrow
+afternoon, Gordie. We’ve got to practice hard this
+week. And I’ll tell Jack to look up his friend in the
+plating works.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c14'>CHAPTER XIV<br/>A VISIT TO THE INVALID</h2>
+
+<p>Gordon found Morris not only able but
+eager to see him. Louise conducted him
+upstairs to a big square bedroom in the
+middle of which, between two bay windows, Morris’
+bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table
+by the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses,
+and some magazines, books, and glasses. A rocking-chair
+near the table with a magazine spread open in
+it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been
+reading to the invalid.</p>
+
+<p>Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest
+little pillow under his head. Gordon was shocked to
+see how pale and drawn he looked as he waved a
+hand at the visitor’s entrance and called quite cheerfully
+across the room: “Hello, Gordon! Gee, but
+I’m glad to see you!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked
+Morris how he felt.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg’s done up in a
+ton of plaster, I guess, and it hurts a good deal. But
+the doctor’s tickled to death with it, and so I suppose
+I’ve got to be satisfied too. How are you? I
+thought you were never coming to see a fellow.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been wanting to come ever since—it happened,”
+answered Gordon; “but at first they said I
+mustn’t see you, and then, yesterday, there was the
+game at Lesterville<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“It must have been a peach of a game, even if you
+fellows did get beaten.” Morris paused abruptly and
+lowered his eyes. “Say, Gordon, I guess you know
+I’m—I’m awfully grateful<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Now, look here,” interrupted Gordon sternly,
+“don’t you start that too! I’ve had a lot of it from
+your mother and Louise and Mr. Brent, and if you
+begin I’ll beat it out of here!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” laughed Morris, “only—well, thanks,
+Gordon!” A twinge of pain brought a momentary
+scowl to his face. “I was mighty glad you
+didn’t get banged up too. It was a wonder you
+didn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I’m like a cat; I light on my feet. What happened,
+anyhow?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know—quite. The first thing I knew the
+wheel spun around almost out of my hands and
+we were smashing against that fence. I suppose there
+was something in the road I didn’t see. I made a
+grab for the emergency brake and tried to set it. Then
+I got a leg over the side of the car and—and that’s
+all I remember. How badly is the car smashed, Gordon?”</p>
+
+<p>“The right front wheel has most of the spokes out
+of it, and the axle is bent on that side. And there
+are some dents in the running board and radiator and
+one lamp’s done for. I don’t believe, though, it will
+cost you much to get it fixed up again almost as good
+as new. I suppose you’ll have to get rid of it,
+though, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Morris grinned. “Rather! And I’ll have to pay
+for it, too!”</p>
+
+<p>“Your father says<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I know; but Stacey has my note for the rest of the
+money, and I don’t propose to be a squealer, Gordon.
+I’ll get the money somehow. If dad won’t give it to
+me, maybe my mother will. I’ll get it somewhere.
+I’m not going to have Stacey telling it around that I
+don’t keep my word or pay my debts. I wish I’d let
+the blamed thing alone; but I didn’t, and so there’s no
+use talking about that now.”</p>
+
+<p>“What—what are you going to do with it?” asked
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Get Stacey to sell it for me, I guess. I haven’t
+talked to dad about it yet. He only got home from
+New York yesterday. I suppose he will be mad when
+I tell him I want to pay the rest of the money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I ought to see him, too,” said Gordon uneasily,
+“and tell him what Mr. Stacey said. Is—is he at home
+to-day?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, but you’d better wait a while. He always
+takes a nap Sunday afternoons. I guess I’ll let you
+tell him about Stacey before I tackle him.”</p>
+
+<p>“How much would you sell the car for?” asked
+Gordon presently.</p>
+
+<p>“Anything I could get, I guess. Of course, it’s
+never been used but a week; the speedometer shows
+only two hundred and eighty miles, I think; but I
+suppose it’s just as much second-hand as if it had
+been run a whole year. I should think Stacey might
+get three hundred for it, though.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon looked disappointed. “Oh!” he murmured.
+“Well, I suppose it is worth all of that. Only, I was
+thinking<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” asked Morris.</p>
+
+<p>“It—it sounds sort of cheeky,” replied Gordon, after
+a moment’s hesitation, “and you might not think much
+of the idea, but what I—what we were considering is
+this, Morris.” He drew the chair closer to the bed,
+with a glance at the half-open door, and lowered his
+voice.</p>
+
+<p>An hour or so later Gordon left Brentwood well
+satisfied. Mr. Brent had only smiled at Mr. Stacey’s
+ultimatum, thanked Gordon for the trouble he had
+taken, and approved of the rescue and temporary disposal
+of the automobile. “We’ll let it stay where it is
+for the present,” he said, “and I’ll have a talk with
+Morris about it some day. If Stacey doesn’t want to
+take it back, I guess we can get the junkman to haul
+it away.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think Morris has a—a scheme, sir, that would be
+pretty fine,” returned Gordon. “That is, if—if you
+were willing.”</p>
+
+<p>“A scheme? What sort of a scheme, Merrick?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d rather he told you about it, sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph! I don’t think much of Morris’ schemes
+as a rule,” replied Mr. Brent grimly. “However, I’ll
+hear what he has to say.”</p>
+
+<p>On Tuesday placards in the shop windows made
+the following announcement:</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>BASEBALL!</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>Clearfield vs. Rutter’s Point,</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>HIGH SCHOOL FIELD,</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>Saturday at 3 P. M.</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>Admission: 25 Cents.</p>
+
+<p>Also on that morning the Clearfield <i>Reporter</i> obligingly
+called the public’s attention to the game and
+predicted a close and exciting contest. The notice in
+the newspaper cost the club nothing, but the printed
+announcements took just a dollar and sixty-five cents
+from the exchequer, and caused Fudge, whose portion
+of the expense amounted to eighteen and one-third
+cents, a deal of gloom.</p>
+
+<p>“Nobody’s going to pay real money to see a lot of
+kids play ball,” said Fudge. “So what’s the good of
+spending all that on notices? Gee, we could have
+bought a new ball with that money!”</p>
+
+<p>One or two others thought as Fudge did, but most
+of the team were optimistic, and Tim Turner was
+created ticket seller and gateman, and was to receive
+fifty cents for his services. Fudge declared that if
+Tim sold enough admissions to pay himself his wages
+he’d be “m-m-m-mighty lucky!” But as events proved
+Fudge was unnecessarily pessimistic.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, on Monday, Jack Tappen had fulfilled
+his agreement to find a substitute, and Danny Shores
+was duly “signed up” for Saturday’s game with the
+Point. Danny, who proved to be a long and lanky
+youth of sixteen or seventeen years, showed up for
+practice on Wednesday and made a good impression
+in right field and at the bat. Unfortunately, Wednesday
+was the only day he could get off, and, as Jack
+assured Dick, it took a lot of wire-pulling to secure
+that concession from Danny’s boss at the plating
+works. However, Danny played ball more or less
+every lunch-hour behind the factory, and so was by no
+means out of practice. Jack’s demeanor was amusing
+that week. He tried to look chastened and sad, but
+it was easy to see that he took it as a personal compliment,
+that suspension, and was vastly proud of it.
+Jack appeared to reason that if he hadn’t been an
+extraordinarily valuable member of the team Dick
+would not have taken the trouble to discipline him!
+Jack was as busy as a hive of bees, and was so generous
+with advice that Dick and Gordon found him
+something of a nuisance.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish he was playing ball instead of sitting on
+the bench,” confided Gordon, in comic despair. “Next
+time, Dick, throw him in the river, but don’t suspend
+him. He’s as pleased as Punch with himself!”</p>
+
+<p>Of course, the others tried their best to have their
+fun with Jack, but the attempt was not very successful.
+Jack seemed to consider that a signal honor had
+been done him, and, while he professed to be chagrined
+and ashamed of his position, he was secretly
+well contented and was enjoying it all greatly. As
+Dick said, one could have stood that well enough if
+Jack hadn’t tried to run the team!</p>
+
+<p>But Jack Tappen was not the only cross that Dick
+had to bear just then. As a tutor Dick was having his
+troubles, too. Harold Townsend had at last, to use
+Caspar Billings’ expression, “laid down in the shafts.”
+Not only that, but he was “kicking over the traces” as
+well. Dick was pretty nearly at his wits’ end. The
+pupil’s first slight awe of his teacher had soon worn
+off, and now he was frankly mutinous. He no longer
+made pretense of studying the lessons Dick laid out
+for him, only grinned exasperatingly when taken to
+task, and, in short, openly defied authority. Dick worried
+for two reasons: In the first place, he disliked
+to be beaten. In the second place, he felt that he had
+no right to take money from Harold’s mother when
+he was not earning it. And he wanted the money and
+needed it. Harold apparently realized that any appeal
+to his mother by Dick would be useless. And Dick
+was pretty certain of as much himself. Nevertheless,
+on Thursday of that week he decided that the time had
+come for an understanding. Loring, Harold’s older
+brother, had threatened all sorts of dire punishment
+if that youth didn’t behave, but the threats had not
+impressed Harold much. Perhaps he knew that Loring
+wouldn’t carry them out. On Thursday the lesson
+had been the merest farce, and Harold’s behavior
+had for once almost caused Dick to lose command
+of a usually well-governed temper. At last:</p>
+
+<p>“I shall have to talk to your mother, Harold,” he
+said. “This kind of thing can’t go on. You’re wasting
+your time and mine<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Aw, you get paid, don’t you?” asked Harold, with
+a scowl.</p>
+
+<p>“I get paid for teaching, not for loafing,” responded
+Dick sharply. “I shall want to see you when I come
+back. So don’t go off, please.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shall if I want to. You don’t own me, Lovering.
+Besides, study time’s up, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick, disdaining to answer, set off to find Mrs.
+Townsend. The conference took place on a corner of
+the hotel veranda. Mrs. Townsend was a sweet-voiced,
+pretty woman, with a tired air. At first she
+seemed to resent Dick’s charge against her boy. Then
+she grew pathetic, and bewailed the fact of her husband’s
+death.</p>
+
+<p>“If he had lived,” she sighed, “Harold would have
+been a different boy. I’ve never been able to do anything
+with him. He needs a stronger hand, I fear.
+Perhaps—that is, possibly—er—it would have been
+better to have found someone—someone a little older
+to take him in hand. Of course, I don’t mean
+to suggest that you haven’t done excellently, Mr.
+Lovering, for I’m quite sure you have; but, of
+course, as you are so little older than Harold,
+he may feel—er—you see what I mean, don’t
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, but I don’t think that’s the trouble. Harold
+doesn’t want to study, doesn’t seem to see the
+necessity of learning and won’t. If I had full authority
+over him<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but you have! I thought that was understood.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, for two hours, perhaps, Mrs. Townsend; but
+what I mean is that if I—well, if you’d just back me
+up, I’m sure I could accomplish something.”</p>
+
+<p>“Please explain. I don’t think I understand.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, it’s like this,” replied Dick desperately: “He
+knows now that if he doesn’t want to learn his lessons
+he doesn’t have to. So he doesn’t do any work. If—if
+you’d make him understand that he <i>does</i> have to,
+Mrs. Townsend, that if he doesn’t he will be—punished<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but I’ve never punished Harold!” she protested.
+“I don’t believe in punishment; that is, other
+than verbal. A high-spirited boy such as he is—er<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, I know, but you want him to go to Rifle
+Point, and he will never get there if he doesn’t take
+some interest in his lessons and do some work. See
+here, please.” Dick had provided himself with
+a Rifle Point School catalogue, and now he
+went over for Mrs. Townsend’s benefit the list
+of studies required for entrance. Mrs. Townsend
+listened with a puzzled, tired frown on her pretty
+forehead.</p>
+
+<p>“And you think he isn’t far enough advanced, Mr.
+Lovering, to enter this Fall?”</p>
+
+<p>“He isn’t advanced at all!” blurted Dick. “What
+he has learned he has forgotten. He—he’s two years
+behind those requirements, Mrs. Townsend.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dear me! And I had hoped<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” She sighed
+tremulously. “What do you advise?”</p>
+
+<p>“I advise you to make Harold understand that he’s
+got to do what I tell him to, and that if he doesn’t he
+will be punished.”</p>
+
+<p>“But I never could punish him!”</p>
+
+<p>“No’m, I’m sure of that,” agreed Dick. “You let
+me do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“You?” she faltered. “Could you—that is<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t mean whip him, Mrs. Townsend, or anything
+like that. I’ll find a way that will answer quite
+as well.”</p>
+
+<p>“Could you really? But how?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know just yet,” Dick owned. “But I’ll find
+a way. Really, Mrs. Townsend, you’ll have to do
+something of that sort. Harold’s just wasting his
+time and mine. And I can’t take your money when
+I’m not earning it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, but I’m sure you are! Even if—if Harold
+doesn’t get on very fast, it is a great relief to me to
+know that for two hours a day at least he is in good
+care and not—not running around with those horrid
+bell-boys. I’m sure that’s worth every penny of the
+money!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not to me, ma’am. I mean I wouldn’t be satisfied
+to go on with things as they are now. I wish
+you’d try my way, Mrs. Townsend. All I’d want
+you to do would be just to tell Harold that he is to do
+absolutely as I tell him to, and that there is no use in
+his appealing to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“We—ell, if you’re quite certain it won’t break his
+spirit or—or anything like that,” agreed Mrs. Townsend
+doubtfully. “I do want him to get on, Mr. Lovering.
+If only he had half the studiousness that Loring
+has!”</p>
+
+<p>“He can study very well when he wants to,” replied
+Dick dryly. “And I’m pretty sure I can make
+him want to if you will just stand back of me, Mrs.
+Townsend.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will, really and truly,” she said. “Thank you so
+much, Mr. Lovering. I—I’ll speak to Harold this
+evening, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Couldn’t you speak to him now just as well,
+please?”</p>
+
+<p>“Now? Why, I suppose so. If you wish. Perhaps
+I’d better, and get it over with.” Mrs. Townsend
+sighed deeply. “Will you send him to me, Mr. Lovering?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes’m, if I can find him,” answered Dick. “I’m
+afraid, though, he’s gone off somewhere. I’ll look
+him up, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you very much for—for
+helping me.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold was not in his room where Dick had left
+him, and inquiry around the corridor of the hotel at
+first failed to elicit any information. Ultimately, however,
+Dick found a boy who had seen Harold walking
+down the beach about a half hour before and Dick set
+off in the indicated direction toward the distant point
+of rocks that jutted out into the sea.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c15'>CHAPTER XV<br/>ON THE ROCKS</h2>
+
+<p>It was hard going for Dick, for his crutches sank
+into the sand nearly to the depth of their rubber
+tips, but he persevered, and after some ten minutes
+of “crutching” arrived at the end of the beach
+where the point of rock from which the place received
+its name advanced from the grassy bluff and waded
+far into the breakers. Harold was not in sight when
+Dick reached the bottom of the ledge; but a few moments
+later when by careful climbing Dick had
+reached the seaward end of the rock, he came into
+view. The receding tide had left a long and narrow
+pool in a cleft of the ledge, a pool whose sides were
+festooned with delicate seaweed and set with purple
+mussels and green and brown snails and in whose bottom
+pink starfish crawled. Harold, perched at the
+edge of the pool, was looking fascinatingly into the
+clear green depths and didn’t hear the soft tap of
+Dick’s crutches until the older boy was almost beside
+him. Then he turned startledly, narrowly escaping a
+bath in the pool, and scowled at the intruder.</p>
+
+<p>“Had to hunt for me, anyway, didn’t you?” he asked
+sneeringly.</p>
+
+<p>Dick paid the question no heed. Instead, he moved
+to the edge of the pool and peered interestedly into
+it. He didn’t have to feign interest, he was interested.
+It seemed a long time to Dick since he had crouched,
+as Harold was crouched now, and gazed fascinatingly
+at the wonders of a rock pool. Nor had he done it
+very frequently, for climbing over the ledges is
+hard and risky work for a boy without two
+good legs. Harold continued to frown at a
+wavering starfish in the depths, but presently,
+as Dick did not speak, he shot a curious glance at
+him.</p>
+
+<p>“Gee,” he said to himself, “you’d think he’d never
+seen starfish and things before!”</p>
+
+<p>Dick took off his hat and wiped his moist forehead.
+Then he lowered himself cautiously to a seat
+on the rock. “Regular natural aquarium, isn’t it?”
+he asked pleasantly. Harold’s reply was an unintelligible
+growl. “Lots of queer things in there,” went on
+Dick musingly.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure; I just saw a whale,” replied Harold sarcastically.</p>
+
+<p>“Did you? Your eyes must be pretty good,”
+returned Dick, with a smile. “I dare say, though, I see
+something you don’t.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold viewed him suspiciously. Finally: “What?”
+he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“A sea-anemone.”</p>
+
+<p>“A sea-what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sea-anemone.” Dick laughed. “I sea-anemone;
+what do you see?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s a punk joke!” scoffed Harold.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m not joking. I’ll point him out to you. Lean
+over this way. See that purplish-brown thing on the
+side near the bottom? Looks like a flower, sort of.
+See?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! Is that it? It isn’t a flower, though; it
+moves, don’t it?” Harold was interested in spite of
+himself.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, it moves, and it isn’t a flower. It’s a polyp.
+It’s name is Metridium something or other; I forget
+the rest of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s a polyp? An animal?”</p>
+
+<p>“Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge
+is.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!” derided the other.</p>
+
+<p>“Not exactly. Those things that move are little
+tentacles with which it feeds itself,” said Dick, pointing
+again at the anemone.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s it eat?” asked Harold curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“All sorts of animal matter that floats around in
+the water and that is so small we can’t see it.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold observed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe
+it’s alive at all,” he said presently. “It’s just a sort
+of seaweed, and it moves because the water moves.”</p>
+
+<p>“Think so?” asked Dick. “Then put your hand
+down there toward it and see what happens.”</p>
+
+<p>“It won’t—bite, will it?” asked Harold doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>“No, but it will show you whether it’s alive or not.
+You needn’t touch it,” he added, noting the other’s
+hesitancy. “Just put your hand near it or disturb the
+water.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold pulled his sleeve up and cautiously thrust
+an arm into the pool. “Gee!” he exclaimed. “It shut
+its mouth!”</p>
+
+<p>Dick laughed. “Doesn’t look much like it did, does
+it?”</p>
+
+<p>“No; it’s an ugly little thing now,” responded the
+other. “Say, that’s funny, isn’t it? Guess it’s alive,
+all right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; and it knows three things pretty well: It
+knows how to attach itself to the rocks, how to get
+food, and how to shut up shop when trouble brews.”</p>
+
+<p>“What would it do if you took it out?”</p>
+
+<p>“Die. Besides, it’s stuck on there so hard you’d
+have to pull it to pieces to get it off. I tried it once
+when I was a kid, and had to give it up.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d like to find a sea-urchin,” said Harold. “I’ve
+got a lot of starfish and a horse-shoe crab and some
+razor-clam shells and two shark eggs. I guess I’ll
+get that big starfish down there, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the use?” asked Dick. “It’s just like
+those you’ve got. Let the old chap live and enjoy
+himself.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll get it if I want to,” replied Harold. “Say,
+what did you follow me out here for, anyway?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because I told your mother I’d find you and send
+you to her. She’s got something to say to you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! I suppose you went and told her a lot of
+lies about me.”</p>
+
+<p>“You don’t suppose anything of the sort,” responded
+Dick quietly.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, anyway, I’m not afraid of her.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not, but you want to do what she
+wishes, don’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my business,” replied the other ungraciously.
+“I do as I please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you’re a lucky chap, then,” said Dick pleasantly.
+“By the way, are you going to see the ball
+game Saturday?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I guess so. That is”—with elaborate concern—“unless
+you don’t want me to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I was going to say that if you’ll ask for me at the
+gate I’ll pass you in, Harold.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, are they going to charge?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; twenty-five cents.”</p>
+
+<p>“Gee, they’ve got a crust! Who’d pay twenty-five
+cents to see a lot of wooden-heads play ball?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’re hoping a lot will. Anyway, you won’t
+have to. Just ask for me at the gate. I guess it
+will be a pretty good game. Do you like baseball?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose so.”</p>
+
+<p>“Do you play?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! What do you think I am—a wooden Indian?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s good. They have a pretty good team at
+Rifle Point. Maybe you’ll make it some day.”</p>
+
+<p>“There isn’t any maybe about it. I’m going to.”</p>
+
+<p>“I hope so. Well, I must be getting back. You
+coming along? It must be very nearly lunch time.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I’m not,” growled Harold. “I’ll come when
+I’m ready.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. By the way, we won’t have any lessons
+to-morrow. Nothing doing until Monday. Meanwhile
+you see if you can’t get the better of that algebra,
+like a good fellow. So-long!”</p>
+
+<p>“Long!” muttered Harold.</p>
+
+<p>Dick pulled himself up and fixed his crutches and
+began the laborious task of climbing back up the rock
+and across to the beach. Fortunately his rubber tips
+held well, and he was soon at the top of the ledge. But
+there misfortune overtook him. Just what happened
+he couldn’t have told, but the result he was very certain
+about. For one crutch flew out from under him,
+he spun half around on the other and fell backward,
+his head coming into violent contact with the granite
+ledge. For an instant he was too dazed to move.
+His head rang and buzzed like a bee-hive. In falling
+he must have cried out involuntarily, for almost
+before he had gathered his faculties together and
+made a move to get up he heard footsteps pattering
+on the rocks, and then the anxious voice of
+Harold Townsend:</p>
+
+<p>“Are you hurt, Lovering? What happened?”</p>
+
+<p>Harold ran to him, and bent over him with very
+genuine concern.</p>
+
+<p>“I—I’m all right, thanks,” replied Dick, a trifle
+vaguely. “I fell. That rock is some hard, Harold!”
+He rubbed his head ruefully and grimaced as his hand
+came in contact with the swelling bruise. “Just give
+me a hand, will you? And kick that crutch this way,
+please.”</p>
+
+<p>“Here’s your crutch,” said Harold, “but just you
+wait where you are a minute.” He sped away down
+the slope of the rock, and Dick, with his head throbbing,
+for once could not but feel a qualm of envy. In
+a moment the younger boy was back. He had dipped
+his handkerchief in the water, and now he offered it a
+trifle shyly to Dick. “Put it on your head,” he said
+gruffly. “It’ll make it feel better.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, Harold.” Dick applied the wet compress
+to the bump. “It was stupid of me to keel over like
+that,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ve fallen down
+before.”</p>
+
+<p>“I should think you’d have lots of falls,” replied
+Harold. “I think you get around mighty well, Lovering.
+How does it feel now?”</p>
+
+<p>“Better, thanks. Just sort of give me a boost, will
+you?”</p>
+
+<p>Harold assisting, Dick got to his feet, or, rather, his
+crutches, and, with the younger boy watching anxiously,
+went on down the ledge to the beach.</p>
+
+<p>“You needn’t come unless you’re ready to,” said
+Dick. “I’ll be all right now, Harold.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I’ll go, too,” replied Harold carelessly.
+“It’s most lunch time.”</p>
+
+<p>They walked along in silence for a way, and
+then Dick asked: “Do you know who Caspar
+Billings has got to take Morris Brent’s place on Saturday?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fellow named Jensen. Do you know him?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I think not. Pretty good, is he?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. Loring says he is. Say, Mason’s going
+to pitch for us. Did you know that?”</p>
+
+<p>“Mason? Oh, he is the fellow who was to have
+played in the last game and didn’t get here. Is he a
+wonder, Harold?”</p>
+
+<p>“Is he!” Harold chuckled. “You just wait and
+see. You fellows won’t be able to touch him!”</p>
+
+<p>“As good as that, eh? By the way, who scores for
+your team?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know.” Harold shrugged his shoulders.
+“Nobody, I guess. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“I should think you’d like to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold considered. “I guess,” he answered finally,
+“I don’t know how well enough.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can show you. You bring a book Saturday and
+sit by me, and I’ll make a professional scorer of you in
+no time.”</p>
+
+<p>“Too much trouble,” replied the other indifferently.</p>
+
+<p>“It isn’t trouble at all, Harold; it’s fun. Better try
+it some time. It’s a good thing to know.”</p>
+
+<p>Presently Harold asked: “Why aren’t you coming
+to-morrow?”</p>
+
+<p>“Because we haven’t been getting on very well,
+Harold. I thought it might be a good idea for us to
+stop for a couple of days and think it over; see
+whether we want to go on with it or not, you know.
+If we decide that we do, we’ll start all over again Monday
+and do the thing right.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph!” muttered Harold. “What did you tell
+my mother?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, just that I wasn’t willing to go on and take
+her money without accomplishing something,” replied
+Dick cheerfully. “I told her you could study as well
+as your brother if you wanted to<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s always beefing about Loring!” grumbled the
+boy.</p>
+
+<p>“And that if you didn’t want to there wasn’t much
+use in my coming. Well, I’ll cut through here for the
+car. I’ll see you Monday, Harold.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about Saturday?” asked the other. “You
+said<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course! Look me up, and bring your score-book.”</p>
+
+<p>“Haven’t any.”</p>
+
+<p>“You can get one at Wadsworth’s, on Common
+Street. Or I’ll buy one for you, if you like.”</p>
+
+<p>“You needn’t. It’s too much like work. So-long!”</p>
+
+<p>Dick returned to Clearfield more encouraged. If
+only Mrs. Townsend would do as she had agreed to,
+he believed that he could manage Harold and earn the
+money that was being paid him. He had about given
+up hope of finding more pupils, and so could ill afford
+to lose Harold. He certainly didn’t want to, he
+reflected, but he would in an instant rather than make
+no better progress than he had been making.</p>
+
+<p>At practice that afternoon, Gordon told him that
+Morris had asked to see him, and Dick agreed to call
+at the Brents’ for a few minutes before supper. Morris
+was pathetically glad to see the two boys and very
+loath to have them go again. Mrs. Brent looked in
+for a short time and Louise met them on their way out
+and thanked them for coming. She looked rather
+tired, and Gordon spoke of it.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s been so hot to-day,” she explained, “and I’ve
+been indoors a good deal since Morris was hurt. He
+can’t read to himself yet, and so I have to do it for
+him. Of course, I’m very glad to, but it is hard work
+in a way. I wonder if either of you have any books
+he’d like. I’ve read about everything I can find.”</p>
+
+<p>“I think I have,” responded Dick. “I’ll bring two
+or three over. I guess what Morris wants is a rattling
+good adventure story.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; he’s crazy to hear stories about ships and
+pirates and hidden treasure, you know. About the
+only other thing he cares about is the baseball news.
+I read that to him every morning, and I’m getting to
+be quite—quite learned.”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose,” said Dick, “the doctor won’t let you
+move him out to the Point yet.”</p>
+
+<p>“He says we can go in about another two weeks. I
+think it will be much better for Morris. He’s getting
+fearfully tired of that room up there. And it is hot,
+you know. Thank you both for coming, and do
+come again when you can. I guess it isn’t much fun
+for you, but Morris looks forward to it all day.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s a nice girl,” commented Dick, as they passed
+through the gate. “Pretty, too.”</p>
+
+<p>“She <i>is</i> nice,” agreed Gordon. “I guess when a
+fellow’s laid up like that a sister’s a pretty good thing
+to have around.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” said Dick. And, after a moment, he added:
+“I’ll find those books and take them around to-morrow
+morning.”</p>
+
+<p>“I would,” approved the other. “You’re certain to
+find her in then.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t be a chump, Gordie! She’s only a kid!”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s as old as I am, except for a few months.
+And if you call me a kid I’ll lick you.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you do, I’ll suspend you,” replied Dick sternly.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon laughed. “I hope I’d get as much fun out
+of it as Jack is getting,” he said. “He confided to me
+to-day that you were a fine manager. ‘I tell you, Gordon,’
+he said, ‘a manager’s got to have plenty of discipline!’
+If you could only fire Jack for good and all,
+he’d love you like a brother, Dick!”</p>
+
+<p>“I sort of wish we were going to have him in the
+game Saturday,” said Dick. “We’ll miss his batting,
+I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder if this fellow Mason is as good as they
+seem to think him. Anyone know where he comes
+from?”</p>
+
+<p>“I didn’t ask. He’s probably better than Porter,
+though. I have a feeling that we’re due to get the
+short end of the score day after to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t be surprised. I hope to goodness Harry
+can play. If he is out of it, we will be in a mess!”</p>
+
+<p>“How is Tom getting on with his shingling or painting
+or whatever it is he’s doing?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it would be a good thing if he could come out
+and practice a little more. It’s too bad we can’t find
+another fellow to help out with the pitching, Gordie.
+If Tom got sick we’d be in a fix.”</p>
+
+<p>“We surely would! But I don’t believe Tom was
+ever sick in his life. Anyway, he was pretty fit to-day.
+I caught him for a few minutes, and he had everything
+there is.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled. “Tom has just three balls, Gordie:
+an out, a pretty good drop, and a fast one that’s a
+peach. That’s all he needs, though. If he mixes
+them up right he can get by. But we’ve got to find
+our batting eye Saturday if we’re to win. How about
+the line-up? Think we’d better change it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I do. This fellow Shores had better follow
+Lanny, don’t you think? He seems to think he can
+bat, but he didn’t connect with much yesterday.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe he was embarrassed,” suggested Dick, with
+a smile.</p>
+
+<p>“Embarrassed!” said Gordon. “Yes, about as much
+embarrassed as a bull-pup! Maybe he will do better in
+a game, though. Well, so-long, Dick. I’ll have to
+hustle or I’ll be late for supper.”</p>
+
+<p>“Coming around to-night?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe so. I told Lanny I’d go over there.
+See you to-morrow, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Come over in the morning, will you? I’m not
+going out to the Point to-morrow.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’re not? You haven’t quit, have you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, not yet. I’m giving Harold a day or two to
+think over his sins. Good-night.”</p>
+
+<p>“I say, Dick, don’t forget your call.”</p>
+
+<p>“What call?” asked Dick, from the end of the
+hedge.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, on Miss Brent!”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll sit on the bench if you’re not careful,”
+laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c16'>CHAPTER XVI<br/>DICK SCORES A DEFEAT</h2>
+
+<p>“Well, what do you know about that!”
+ejaculated Fudge awedly. He and Lanny
+were approaching the athletic field at a
+little after two on Saturday. Ahead of them, as they
+turned the corner, was a group of some fifty or sixty
+persons, mostly boys and young men, and they were
+quite evidently waiting for the gate to open.</p>
+
+<p>“And it isn’t half-past two yet,” said Lanny.
+“Looks as if we were going to have an audience, after
+all, Fudge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Bet you they don’t know they have to pay a quarter,”
+responded the other pessimistically.</p>
+
+<p>“Then they’re blind, because there’s a notice right
+beside the gate there.”</p>
+
+<p>“Someone ought to find Tim and get him here,”
+said Fudge anxiously. “They might change their
+minds and go away again!”</p>
+
+<p>“What time is he supposed to get here?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. Half-past, I suppose.” They passed
+through a smaller gate which led to the dressing-room
+and found Dick and Gordon already on hand. Fudge
+told his fears to Dick, and Dick reassured him by
+agreeing to take the gate himself until young Mr. Turner
+appeared. Five minutes later the first two or three
+rows of the grandstand were occupied, and spectators
+were still dribbling through the gate and depositing
+quarters in Dick’s hand. Tim Turner arrived breathless
+soon after and relieved Dick. Some thirty Rutter’s
+Point residents accompanied their team and still
+further swelled the audience, and by three o’clock Dick
+estimated that fully a hundred and sixty persons
+had paid admission. That was much better than
+anyone had dared hope, and Lanny, making a
+lightning calculation, confided to Gordon that there’d
+be thirty dollars coming to the club after Rutter’s
+Point had received the twenty-five per cent. agreed
+on.</p>
+
+<p>“If we can do that often enough,” said Lanny delightedly,
+“we’ll have more than enough for<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“S-sh!” cautioned Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“He’s over there talking to Billings. Who is the
+kid with him?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s young Townsend, the fellow he’s coaching.
+It’s about time to start, isn’t it? There come three
+more, Lanny.”</p>
+
+<p>“Every little quarter helps,” replied Lanny. “I hope
+Tim Turner doesn’t abscond with the cash! Someone
+ought to stand over him with a bat! Oh, Fudge!”</p>
+
+<p>“What’s wanted?” asked Fudge, joining them.</p>
+
+<p>“We wanted to tell you that if Tim runs off with
+the money you will have to make good.”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge grinned. “He’s awfully excited,” he said.
+“He’s got both pockets full of silver, and sounds like
+a treasury when he moves. He’s terribly worried
+because he gave one fellow too much change. He
+says he knows him, though, and is going to get it
+back!”</p>
+
+<p>“Come on,” said Gordon. “On the run, fellows.
+You’re in right field, Shores. Throw out another ball,
+Jack, will you? Here you are, Harry!”</p>
+
+<p>A minute later Captain Billings faced Tom Haley,
+and the game began.</p>
+
+<p>The batting list of the visiting team had been
+changed in two instances, Jensen replacing Morris
+Brent in left field, and Mason pitching instead of Porter.
+Melville, or “Mel,” Mason was a big youth of
+eighteen at least, with a quiet, self-constrained manner
+that impressed Dick and filled him with forebodings
+of defeat. Clearfield was minus the services of Jack
+Tappen, Mr. Daniel Shores making his first appearance
+in a purple uniform and holding down Jack’s
+place in right field. The umpire was Mr. Cochran,
+physical director at the Young Men’s Christian Association,
+and a great favorite among the boys.</p>
+
+<p>Rutter’s Point failed to do anything in the first
+inning. Tom Haley allowed only one player to reach
+first, and he got no farther. When Clearfield came
+to the bat, with Harry Bryan up, the audience proved
+its loyalty to the home team by loud and prolonged
+cheering. It was very soon evidenced that “Mel”
+Mason was in a different class from Bede Porter as
+a pitcher. Who he was or where he came from neither
+Dick nor Gordon had learned; but, to use Fudge’s
+admiring and slightly resentful expression, he was
+“some pitchist!” He had plenty of speed when he
+cared to use it, but his favorite offering was a slow
+ball that was probably patterned on the “floater” of a
+famous league pitcher. The Clearfield batters hit under
+it or over it with discouraging regularity, and
+Harry, Will, and Gordon went out in order in the
+last of the first inning, only Will managing to hit into
+fair territory. Harry and Gordon fanned.</p>
+
+<p>For three innings the contest was a pitchers’ battle.
+Tom was in excellent shape, and, although he secured
+fewer strike-outs than his rival, managed to hold his
+own with the assistance of sharp fielding by his team-mates.
+If there were those among the spectators who
+had come to scoff at the kind of ball they were to see
+they must have been surprised, for both teams played
+a practically errorless game until the beginning of the
+fourth. And even after that, if there were frequent
+miscues, there was enough excitement and suspense to
+make up for them.</p>
+
+<p>It was Jensen, the chap who had taken Morris’ place,
+who started things going in the fourth. Loring Townsend
+had flied out to Pete Robey, making the first out.
+With two strikes and one ball on him, Jensen reached
+for an out-shoot, found it on the end of his bat, and
+deposited it neatly behind Gordon and close to the
+foul-line. Chase, the Point shortstop, tried twice to
+bunt, and then hit sharply past Pete, and Jensen went
+to third. House was over-anxious and went out on
+strikes, and Chase got to second. Then Leary waited
+and got his base. With the bags all occupied and two
+men down, it was up to “Pink” Northrop to come to
+the rescue with a hit. The Point coachers were jumping
+and shouting like mad, and Tom might have been
+excused for some unsteadiness at that juncture. But
+Tom settled down, followed Lanny’s signals closely,
+and at last, after working two strikes over on Northrop,
+caused that youth to hit weakly to third. Will
+Scott almost overthrew the base in his eagerness, but
+Gordon pulled the ball down in time and the crisis was
+over.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon went out, shortstop to first; Way lifted a
+high one to second baseman, and Pete Robey faced
+Mason with little expectation of faring any better. But
+Mason let up for a minute, probably arguing that with
+two gone he could afford to take things easy, and
+Pete shot a hot liner at third baseman. Caspar Billings
+got his hands on it, but it trickled past him, and
+Pete was safe. That doubtful error—Dick charitably
+scored it as a hit—seemed the signal for the Point to
+go up in the air. Mason whipped a quick throw to first
+which would have caught Pete flat-footed off the bag
+had Loring Townsend been ready for it. He wasn’t,
+however, and the ball went past him to the fence, and
+Pete, finding his feet quickly, shot to second and then
+on to third, beating out the throw by a fraction of an
+inch and causing dissatisfaction among the Pointers
+over Mr. Cochran’s decision. Lanny, impatiently waiting
+at the plate, swung twice in his eagerness to score
+the runner, and then waited while Mason teased him
+with wide ones. With two strikes and two balls
+against him, Lanny out-guessed the pitcher, and swung
+against the next one. Shortstop knocked it down but
+couldn’t find it again in time to throw either to the
+plate or to first, and Clearfield, amidst the excited
+whooping of the audience, scored her first tally.</p>
+
+<p>Lanny went down to second on the first pitch, and,
+although Houghton threw quickly and well to that
+bag, Lanny beat him by a yard. Danny Shores, who
+was at bat, had swung and was one strike to the bad
+when Mason grimly turned his attention to him again.
+Quite a few of Danny’s friends from the factory were
+on hand to see him perform, and when, after the third
+delivery, he caught the ball squarely on the nose and
+sent it streaking just over second baseman’s head, they
+shouted themselves hoarse in Danny’s honor. On the
+bench, Jack Tappen looked a bit glum. He had visions
+of being displaced by Mr. Shores. Lanny came in
+without hurrying much, and Danny reposed on first.
+Fudge tried to do his share of a hit-and-run play, but
+he swung far wide of the deceptive drop, and Danny
+was caught at second and the inning was over, with
+Clearfield two runs to the good.</p>
+
+<p>Enthusiasm reigned among the spectators on the
+stand, and they “rooted” valiantly for Clearfield
+throughout the rest of the game. In the fifth the
+Point got two men on bases, and was in good position
+to score, there being but one out, when Pete Robey
+pulled down a liner that had been distinctly labeled
+“two bases,” raced to second ahead of the runner, and
+then completed the double by making a fine throw to
+Gordon. Mason struck out Tom easily in the last of
+the fifth, passed Harry Bryan, fanned Will Scott, and
+then, with Gordon at bat, caught Harry off first.</p>
+
+<p>Every play was loudly applauded, and the audience
+was by this time perched on the edges of the seats.
+Again in their half of the sixth Rutter’s Point found
+Tom for two hits, and again sharp fielding kept her
+from crossing the plate. It was evident, though, that
+Tom was less of a puzzle now than in the earlier innings,
+and it seemed only a matter of time when the
+Pointers would bunch their hits and Dick would have
+to credit them with a run or two. You are not to suppose
+that Dick was doing nothing but keeping the
+score. He was managing that game from the bench
+as scientifically as if he had played the game all his
+short life. Every batsman got his orders from Dick
+before he stepped to the plate, and every coacher was
+instructed before he went to the box. And, besides
+that, Dick was teaching Harold Townsend how to
+score a ball game. In spite of his indifference two days
+before, Harold had appeared with a brand-new, black-covered
+score-book and a fountain pen. Dick had told
+him to put the pen in his pocket, and had supplied
+him with a pencil instead. Harold seated himself by
+Dick and watched and learned. He made more mistakes
+than enough, and his score when finished was a
+veritable hodge-podge of misinformation, but he
+seemed to get a lot of excitement and fun out of it,
+and he really did learn a good deal for a boy who had
+theretofore scored an out by placing a huge X opposite
+the batsman and a run by marking up an equally
+enormous I. When he began to memorize the symbols
+for struck out, base on balls, hit by pitched ball,
+and so on, he discovered that scoring was not the
+simple task he had thought it. About the sixth inning
+he gave up trying to keep a detailed score, and contented
+himself with disposing of the batsmen with his
+X’s and I’s. But by that time the excitement had
+grown so intense that it would have required a person
+with a much cooler head than Harold’s to keep his
+mind on scoring.</p>
+
+<p>Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination
+to add another brace of runs to her score
+and place the game safely away. Dick realized that
+Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors
+would find him for some real hits, and before that occurred
+he wanted Clearfield to have a sufficient lead
+to place her out of danger. Gordon had his instructions
+to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was
+a clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either
+Pete or Lanny was to supply the hit to score Gordon.
+But plans don’t always carry through. Dick’s didn’t
+on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason’s
+hands, and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to
+first for the out. Way bunted down the first-base line,
+and managed to beat out the throw. Pete flied to
+center field, and Way was held on first. With two
+down the inning should have been as good as over,
+but Fate took a hand and prolonged it until the bases
+were filled, and Dick, watching intently from the
+bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do
+the impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose,
+forcing Way to second. Then Danny Shores had
+come through with a mild wallop down third-base
+line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the
+side, but his wits must have been wool-gathering, for,
+after gathering in the ball on the bound five feet away
+from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing
+past him hardly out of arm’s length, but hurled the
+ball across to first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was
+too surprised to realize what was required of him.
+At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and
+Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out,
+had to reverse his decision.</p>
+
+<p>And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his
+favorite bat and manfully stalked to the plate, resolved
+to do or die. Fudge was right in the midst of a baseball
+romance at that time, and only the night before,
+writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in
+bed, he had described how his hero, despised and ridiculed
+by his school-mates, had gone to the bat in the
+last of the ninth and, even while the crowds turned disappointedly
+away from the field, had out-guessed the
+marvelous pitcher of the rival school and with one
+mighty stroke of his faithful bat had turned defeat
+into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring the
+men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his
+bat and faced Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant
+and undismayed. He wondered whether things
+ever happened in real life as they did in stories.
+Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly
+improbable to-day. Fudge determined to tone
+it down a little that evening. A two-bagger would
+answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly
+sound more plausible.</p>
+
+<p>Dick’s voice from the bench reached him as Mason,
+after glancing over the bases, wound up. “Make him
+pitch to you, Fudge! It only takes one!” Back and
+forth from behind first and third the cries of Harry
+Bryan and Gordon rattled. Fudge gripped his bat
+tighter yet and glued his eyes to the upraised hands of
+Mel Mason. Then the ball, a particularly dirty one,
+streaked toward him; Fudge’s heart beat loudly and
+he stepped nimbly out of the way, only to hear the fell
+verdict: “Strike!”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge looked reproachfully at Mr. Cochran, sighed,
+and again faced the pitcher. That ball had come well
+across the inner corner of the plate, and Fudge determined
+that Mason shouldn’t fool him a second time
+with that particular kind of a delivery. So when the
+next ball shot forward apparently coming the same
+way Fudge held his ground scornfully and prepared
+to swing his bat. But the next instant he had forgotten
+all about swinging and was sitting on the ground
+with both hands clasped to his ribs and an expression
+of pained surprise on his face. When he had regained
+his breath and the use of his legs, Fudge
+thought that the joy of his team-mates was very ill-considered.
+It seemed nothing to them that he had
+narrowly escaped death at the hands of an infuriated
+baseball; they only shouted and jumped about because
+a run had been forced in!</p>
+
+<p>Fudge walked painfully to first, reflecting how differently
+his hero would have performed. There was
+something distinctly humiliating to Fudge in gaining
+his base in such a manner, and so deeply did he feel
+the humiliation that he quite forgot to heed the warnings
+of Gordon, coaching behind the base, and was
+surprised to have Loring Townsend, without any provocation,
+punch him forcibly in exactly the spot that
+Mason’s in-shoot had collided with. That was too
+much for Fudge. The pain brought tears to his eyes
+and wrath to his heart. He sprang upon the first
+baseman with clenched fists, and only Gordon’s prompt
+interference prevented trouble. Gordon haled Fudge
+away, patiently explaining that Loring had tagged him
+with the ball while he had been apparently fast asleep
+a yard off the base. The explanation, however, was
+not entirely satisfactory to Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“What of it? He didn’t have to punch me in the
+ribs as hard as he knew how, did he?” demanded
+Fudge angrily. “What kind of a way is that to play
+ball?”</p>
+
+<p>“Shut up, Fudge!” said Gordon exasperatedly.
+“Why the dickens weren’t you watching the pitcher?
+What’s the good of getting hit if you get put out the
+next minute?”</p>
+
+<p>“Good of it!” exclaimed Fudge. “Good of it!
+There isn’t any good of it! I just wish he’d
+lammed you in the ribs the way he did me! Good
+of it!” And Fudge, still muttering, wandered disgustedly
+out to center field, one hand pressed to
+his side.</p>
+
+<p>The seventh inning passed uneventfully. Tom had
+small difficulty with the last three men on the Point
+batting-list, and Mason disposed of Tom Haley and
+Harry Bryan with five balls apiece, and caused Will
+Scott to pop up a foul to first baseman. So the eighth
+inning started and Dick began to breathe easier, and
+the Clearfield sympathizers were jubilant. After all,
+three runs was a good lead, and even if the Point got
+to batting Tom in the next two innings, surely Clearfield
+could stop them short of three tallies. Thus argued
+Dick, and said as much to Harold, who, to-day, at
+least, was divided in his sympathies. Harold, having
+predicted great things of Mason, was a bit disgruntled
+with that youth, and expressed the wish once that
+Clearfield would wallop him out of the box. But when
+Dick voiced his belief that the game was pretty safe
+Harold took exception.</p>
+
+<p>“You wait,” he said darkly. “Here comes Loring
+up. He hasn’t done anything yet, and he’s just bound
+to. And if he gets on Gil Chase will send him home.
+You wait!”</p>
+
+<p>Loring Townsend let two balls go by, failed to size
+up the third delivery as a strike, and swung unsuccessfully
+at the next. With the score two and two, Tom
+sped a straight one over and Loring met it with his
+bat and set out for first. He didn’t run very fast,
+though, for the hit was a weak one and was bounding
+straight at Will Scott at third. But Will made a mess
+of that play. He got the ball, dropped it, found it
+again and threw hurriedly across the diamond. Gordon
+leaped into the air, just managed to tip the ball
+with his fingers, and then dashed off on a chase for it
+as it rolled toward the fence. When the shouting had
+died away, Loring was on second, Al Jensen was
+swinging his bat eagerly and impatiently, and Harold
+had dropped his score-book between his feet and didn’t
+know it!</p>
+
+<p>That was a disastrous inning for Clearfield. Tom
+managed to strike out Jensen after that player had
+knocked six fouls into various parts of the field, and
+managed, too, to hold Loring on second. But when
+Gil Chase got the signal from first and trickled the ball
+into the pitcher’s box while Loring sped to third, Tom,
+with plenty of time to make the out at first, tossed the
+ball six feet over Gordon’s head and Loring slid home
+with the first run for the Point, while Chase got to
+second.</p>
+
+<p>Then Tom had his troubles. His misplay had taken
+his nerve, and for a while he went thoroughly to pieces.
+Eight batsmen faced him in that inning, and four hits,
+for a total of six bases, and five runs were made off
+him before he finally managed to strike out Mason.
+When that inning was over the game had a different
+complexion. Instead of being three runs ahead, with
+the prospect of winning a shut-out, Clearfield was two
+tallies behind, and defeat stared her in the face.</p>
+
+<p>The home team returned determinedly to the fray,
+but Mason was impregnable. In the last of the eighth
+not a man saw first and only four players faced him.
+In the first of the ninth, Rutter’s Point again started
+things with a whoop when Caspar Billings, first up,
+singled into left field, took second on Townsend’s sacrifice,
+and was advanced to third when Jensen hit past
+Will Scott. Then Jensen was caught off first and
+House flied out to Shores.</p>
+
+<p>I would like to tell how Clearfield went to bat in the
+last half of that final inning and pounded Mason for
+enough hits to win the game. But as this isn’t one of
+Fudge’s romances I can’t do anything of the sort. As
+a matter of regrettable fact, Clearfield stood up to the
+plate and watched Mason’s “floaters” waft past them
+and listened to the fateful voice of the umpire calling
+strikes. Mason ended the day in a blaze of glory, striking
+out three men in order and sending his team off
+the field victors by the score of 5 to 3.</p>
+
+<p>Harold Townsend, slapping his score-book shut,
+grinned at Dick as the last man went out. “What did
+I tell you?” he asked gleefully. “Say, you fellows
+can’t play ball for shucks, Lovering!”</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled imperturbably. He had the ability to
+smile in the face of disaster, had Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll try you again some day,” he answered.
+“Good-bye, Harold. See you Monday.”</p>
+
+<p>“I may not be home,” replied Harold airily.</p>
+
+<p>But when Dick was accompanying his team-mates
+toward the dressing-room a minute or two later, he felt
+a hand on his arm and looked around to find that Harold
+had followed him.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, Lovering, I—I’m sorry your team got beaten.
+And thanks for showing me about scoring, you know.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c17'>CHAPTER XVII<br/>HAROLD MAKES A PROMISE</h2>
+
+<p>The Clearfield <i>Reporter</i> was quite enthusiastic
+over the game in its Monday’s issue. There
+had been, it declared, for some time a demand
+for a baseball team to represent the city, a demand
+which had now been satisfied in the recent formation
+of the club which had given such a good account
+of itself on Saturday. It was to be hoped that
+the organization would prosper and receive the support
+of the many lovers of clean sport residing in the town.
+The <i>Reporter</i> gave the game almost play by play, indulging
+in a wealth of baseball slang and metaphor
+worthy of a metropolitan journal. It was quite evident
+that the writer had thoroughly enjoyed his task.
+He dealt out praise lavishly and was especially complimentary
+to the Rutter’s Point pitcher, who, it
+seemed, had struck out ten batsmen besides fielding
+his position perfectly. Incidentally the <i>Reporter</i> provided
+the information that the Clearfield players had
+failed to obtain.</p>
+
+<p>“Melville Mason,” said the paper, “gives every
+promise of becoming a top-notch twirler, and there is
+no doubt a berth awaiting him in one of the big league
+teams if he wants it. He has been playing ball for
+six years, and last season was second-choice pitcher on
+the Erskine College team. He is nineteen years of age.
+The Rutter’s Point team is to be congratulated on securing
+the services of so accomplished a player. We
+are assured by Captain Billings that Mr. Mason receives
+no salary.” (“Bet you he’s having his expenses
+paid, though,” commented Gordon, when he and Dick
+read the <i>Reporter</i> that morning.) “We trust,” concluded
+the <i>Reporter</i>, “that a third and determining
+game will be arranged between Saturday’s adversaries
+and that it will be played on the local grounds, where,
+doubtless, a large audience will be on hand to enjoy
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“That isn’t a bad idea,” said Lanny. “We took in
+forty-three dollars Saturday. I dare say we could do
+even better the next time. And I don’t believe but
+what the Pointers would be willing to play here if they
+got their twenty-five per cent. again.”</p>
+
+<p>“We might offer them a third of the receipts,” suggested
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked puzzled. “You fellows are frightfully
+keen on the financial end of it, seems to me,” he said.
+“What’s the idea, Lanny? What are we going to do
+with the money we get, anyway? We can’t buy balls
+with all of it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, there’s no harm in having it,” replied Lanny
+evasively. “You never know when you’ll need
+money.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know when I need it,” said Dick grimly. “That’s
+most of the time.”</p>
+
+<p>“It wouldn’t be a bad scheme to sound Billings,”
+said Gordon. “You might tell him we’d like to play a
+deciding game, and that—er—that as Clearfield is interested
+in the series it would perhaps be best to play
+here. If Billings kicked, you could offer him a third.
+I dare say we’d get a couple of hundred people easily
+for the next game, and that would give the Point something
+like seventeen dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe they’re as much on the make as you
+Shylocks,” objected Dick. “Still, I’ll talk it over with
+him some day. Perhaps, though, it would be better to
+wait and see if they won’t propose the game themselves.
+Then we’d be in a better position to make conditions.”</p>
+
+<p>“Isn’t he the nifty old diplomat?” asked Lanny admiringly.</p>
+
+<p>“A regular fox,” agreed Gordon. “Work it your
+own way, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“We can’t play them for about three weeks, anyway,”
+said Dick. “We’re filled up with games until
+the third of September. I got a letter from Tyson
+over in Springdale this morning. He says they’ll play
+us there a week from next Saturday if we’ll come over.
+What do you say?”</p>
+
+<p>“I say yes, by all means,” replied Gordon, with enthusiasm.
+“And I guess we’re all eager to have another
+try at those chaps after what they did to us in
+June.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it won’t be quite the same team, Tyson says,
+and they’re calling themselves the Independents.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’ll call them down,” laughed Lanny. “We play
+Logan the day after to-morrow, don’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and that reminds me that I must see to getting
+notices printed and sent around. I wish you’d
+do that, Gordon. I’ve got to go out to the Point in
+half an hour. I’ll write out the copy and all you’ll
+have to do is to take it down to the printers. They’ll
+strike them right off and distribute them for us this
+afternoon.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I’ll go there first thing. I’m going to
+see Morris for a few minutes this morning. Any little
+message I can take from you, Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>“Message? No, not that I know of. Tell him I
+hope he will hurry up and get well again.”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course, but—ah!—is there any other member
+of the family<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you run away!” laughed Dick.</p>
+
+<p>If Dick expected to find a chastened and much reformed
+pupil at the Point that Monday morning, he
+was doomed to disappointment. He gathered from a
+remark that the boy let fall that Mrs. Townsend had
+kept her promise to speak to him, but Dick doubted if
+she had accomplished much. And yet there was improvement
+visible. Harold had actually mastered two
+of the four lessons and Dick gathered some encouragement.</p>
+
+<p>“I guess we won’t go on with this,” he said toward
+the end of the period. “You haven’t studied it, Harold.
+We’ll take it over to-morrow. How did you
+like the game Saturday?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, pretty well! You fellows going to play us
+again?”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe, some day. We play Logan Wednesday.
+Do you care to come over and see it? We might have
+another lesson in scoring.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. We’re going to play a team from Bay
+Harbor on Saturday. Say, Loring says if I’ll learn
+to score, I can be official scorer for the team. I guess
+I’ll do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Fine! Then you come over Wednesday, and
+we’ll try it again. You did very well the other
+day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did I really? Gee, but there’s a lot to put down,
+isn’t there? Caspar’s got six games arranged for the
+team. Loring says if I’m scorer they’ll take me with
+them when they go away to play.”</p>
+
+<p>That was really no news to Dick, since it was at his
+suggestion that Loring had made the offer. But he
+pretended to be surprised and interested, and said all
+he could to encourage Harold to learn to score. And
+Harold became so enthusiastic that he walked over to
+the trolley car with Dick, talking volubly all the way.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish you’d make a real try at those lessons to-day,
+Harold,” Dick said, at parting. “Won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Harold grinned noncommittingly.</p>
+
+<p>But the next morning he went through with flying
+colors, and when Dick complimented him he laughed.
+“Gee, I can get that stuff all right if I want to,” he
+said carelessly. “It’s easy.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t you, then?”</p>
+
+<p>“Aw, what’s the use? I’d rather play around, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t you want to go to Rifle Point, Harold?”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess so. I don’t care much. If I do, Loring
+will be always bossing me about. I’d rather go somewhere
+else, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“Loring’s being there will make things easier for
+you,” said Dick. “I fancy he’s pretty well liked and
+the fellows will be nice to you on his account. But
+I’ll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won’t
+get to Rifle Point this Fall.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold opened his eyes widely. “I won’t?” he
+exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly not. And you won’t get there next Fall
+unless you buckle down and learn something.”</p>
+
+<p>“Loring said I could!”</p>
+
+<p>“Loring probably thought you were more advanced
+than you are, then,” replied Dick. “I’m sorry, Harold;
+but facts are facts.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then what’ll I do this Winter?” asked the boy lugubriously.</p>
+
+<p>“How about another year where you were?”</p>
+
+<p>“I won’t! I hate that place! I won’t go back there,
+no matter what anyone says!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then you might have a tutor.”</p>
+
+<p>That suggestion didn’t seem to make much of a hit.
+Harold scowled for a minute in silence. Then: “Don’t
+you think I could get in this Fall, Lovering, if—if I
+studied hard?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick hesitated.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m entered, you know,” pleaded Harold. “I
+should think I might, Lovering.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, you might,” returned Dick grimly, “but it
+would mean studying a good deal differently than the
+way you’ve been studying, Harold. It would mean
+getting your nose right down into the books, putting
+your whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime.
+Think you could do that?”</p>
+
+<p>It was Harold’s turn to hesitate. Finally, though,
+he nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, do you think you <i>would</i> do it?” asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure, if—if you’ll help me!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll help you, all right, Harold. But there must
+be no changing your mind about it later. If we start
+this thing, we’re going to keep it up. If you’ll work
+honestly and do the very best you know how, I’ll get
+you so you can pass the exams this Fall. What do
+you say? Is it a bargain?”</p>
+
+<p>“You bet!” said Harold.</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Hand me those books, please.” Dick
+turned the pages and made new marks on the margins
+of them. “There; we’ll start off with eight pages instead
+of four, Harold. We’ve got to pretty nearly
+break all existing records, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold whistled softly. “Gee!” he murmured.
+“Eight pages of that stuff!” Dick looked across inquiringly.
+Harold squared his shoulders with the suggestion
+of a swagger. “Oh, I’ll do it, all right!” he
+said. “You just watch me!”</p>
+
+<p>Wednesday’s game with Logan attracted a smaller
+audience to the athletic field than had the Saturday
+contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets of twenty-two
+dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan
+received only her expenses there was nearly twenty
+dollars left. The game was one-sided, Clearfield
+winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan pitchers—she
+used two of them—were easy for the home-team batsmen,
+while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two
+of Logan’s runs resulted from errors, Jack Tappen,
+who had been reinstated, being one offender, and Gordon
+the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon
+made an atrocious throw to second.</p>
+
+<p>On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone
+after breakfast. It was Louise Brent at the other end
+of the line, and Louise informed him that Morris
+wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. “It’s
+something about the automobile,” explained Louise.
+“There’s a man here to look at it, Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon promised to go right over, and did so.
+What passed in the sick chamber is not to be set down
+here, but later Gordon went out to the stable and stood
+around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge
+on the end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically
+and grunted at intervals. Finally:</p>
+
+<p>“About fifty dollars will do it,” he said, in a sad
+tone of voice. “There’ll have to be new spokes set in
+that wheel, and them fenders’ll have to be straightened
+out again, and it’ll need a new lamp and the radiator’s
+sprung and likely leaks and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?” asked
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know how good it was when it was new,”
+responded the man dolefully. “But fifty dollars’ll fix
+it up in good shape, likely.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I’ll tell him, and he will let you know.
+Could you start on it right away?”</p>
+
+<p>“Likely I could. I’d have to haul it down to my
+place, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“How long would it take?”</p>
+
+<p>“Two or three weeks, likely.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Much obliged. We’ll let you know for
+certain to-morrow. Fifty dollars is the cheapest you
+could do it for?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well”—the man scratched his head reflectively—“maybe
+I could do it for forty-five, if I didn’t find anything
+else the matter with it. Likely there ain’t.”</p>
+
+<p>They called him “Mr. Likely” during the following
+three weeks, for which period of time the runabout
+was in his care. Mr. Likely was a born pessimist,
+and about every two days he called up the Brents’
+house to inform whoever answered the telephone that
+“that wheel’s a lot worse’n I thought it was, and’ll
+likely have to have a new rim,” or “I got to send out
+West for a new lamp, and it’ll likely take two weeks
+or more.” But, to anticipate, Mr. Likely made a good
+job of it, and in the course of time the blue runabout
+was returned to the Brents’ stable, shining and polished
+like a brand-new car. By that time the family
+had moved out to the cottage at the Point, and it was
+Gordon who saw the automobile run into the carriage-room
+under its own power and who locked the door
+afterward and pocketed the key.</p>
+
+<p>Morris’ leg had knitted so well by the time Clearfield
+played Springdale that he was allowed to make
+the trip to the neighboring town in a carriage and witnessed
+the contest from a position far more comfortable
+than the sun-smitten boards of the grandstand.
+That was a pretty good game to watch, too. There
+was plenty of hitting on both sides, enough errors to
+add interest, and several rattling good plays. The
+game was in doubt until the last inning, when Clearfield,
+with a one-run margin, trotted into the field to do
+her best to hold the home team scoreless. Tom Haley
+had been touched up for eight or nine hits—Dick and
+Harold made it eight, but the Springdale scorer insisted
+on nine—and, as luck would have it, the head of
+the local batting list was up when the last of the ninth
+began. But Tom and Lanny worked together finely,
+and, although one runner got as far as second, the
+game ended with a spectacular catch by Fudge in deep
+center, and Clearfield went home with the ball. The
+final score was 7 to 6, and Clearfield derived a lot of
+satisfaction from that victory.</p>
+
+<p>The Saturday before she had played Locust Valley,
+and had been pretty badly defeated, and the following
+Wednesday she had barely pulled out of the game
+against Corwin with a victory. Corwin had journeyed
+to Clearfield for the contest and the club treasury had
+had another twenty-odd dollars added to it. What
+puzzled Manager Dick Lovering those days was the
+interest displayed by the whole team in the condition
+of the exchequer. It seemed to Dick that every fellow
+was showing a strangely commercial spirit.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c18'>CHAPTER XVIII<br/>THE LIVE WIRES</h2>
+
+<p>The matter of a new athletic field dragged.
+Two more meetings had been held by the
+committee, and several trips of inspection
+had been made to near-by fields, but no decision had
+been reached. In the meanwhile, the surveyors had
+shown activity and had run lines through the old field
+and even demolished a section of the fence. It was a
+question whether the team would be able to use the
+diamond much longer, although inquiries failed to
+elicit any definite information from the men who were
+doing the surveying. The football enthusiasts were
+becoming impatient. The prospect of having no better
+place to hold practice the next month than an empty
+lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad
+didn’t please them, and they demanded action.</p>
+
+<p>Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, the principal, had left
+Clearfield on his summer vacation, and several other
+members of the High School faculty were also out of
+town, and the committee showed a disposition to await
+their return. The hope was several times expressed
+that, since Mr. Brent had done nothing with the field
+so far, he might postpone cutting it up until next year.
+But when the surveyors got to work that hope seemed
+idle, and at last a public meeting was called at which
+the Athletic Committee was to make a report and recommend
+the leasing of what was known as Tilden’s
+Meadow for a term of two years. The meadow was
+a mile from Clearfield and on the trolley route to
+Rutter’s Point, and consisted of about fourteen acres
+of fairly level turf. Only sufficient space for a football
+field and diamond was to be used, and the rest of the
+land was to remain as at present. Mr. Tilden was to
+keep the grass cut in return for the hay and was to
+receive one hundred dollars a year. There was no
+question of having a running track, for the owner absolutely
+refused to allow one to be laid out, and that,
+at first glance, seemed a great objection to the project.
+But, as several of the committee pointed out, there
+was no money on hand to build a track even if Mr.
+Tilden would allow it. The plan was to make use of
+the Y. M. C. A. field, a small enclosure behind the Association’s
+building on Lafayette Street, for training
+purposes, and hold the meets with Springdale at the
+latter’s grounds until Clearfield could secure a track of
+its own.</p>
+
+<p>A piece of land sufficiently large for all athletic purposes
+was to be had across the river and fairly handy
+to the G Street Bridge, but it was next to the railroad
+tracks and the mills and the sentiment of the female
+members of the High School was strongly opposed to
+it. “It would be horrid!” they declared indignantly.
+“The smoke and soot from the engines and the mill
+chimneys would spoil our dresses and hats. And, besides,
+we’d have to walk a whole block through dust up
+to our shoe-tops!”</p>
+
+<p>In the face of such weighty opposition the committee
+gave way, and the North Side location was abandoned.
+Only Tilden’s meadow remained then, and to
+that, too, there was much opposition. Many thought
+it too far from town; others pointed out that, since it
+was unfenced, there would be no way of keeping persons
+from witnessing games without paying, and still
+others dwelt on the lack of a track. The Athletic
+Committee was not to be envied.</p>
+
+<p>Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning.
+Dick had got into the habit lately of walking over to
+the Brents’ in the morning before going out to the
+Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the
+car, although it is true that by retracing his steps two
+blocks he could get the trolley at B Street and consequently
+went only seven blocks out of his way. But
+seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is
+quite a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered
+by the interest in his recovery which led Dick
+so far afield four or five mornings a week. Dick began
+by taking books to Morris, but his library was
+soon exhausted, and after that he continued to call just
+the same. Of course he always saw Morris, and
+equally of course Louise appeared at some period of
+his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to
+have doubts as to being the chief attraction. At all
+events he very frequently left Dick for his sister to
+entertain and it wasn’t apparent that Dick mourned his
+absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and
+sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should
+not have been quite satisfied with her company.</p>
+
+<p>On the morning in question, the morning of the
+Wednesday following the Springdale game, Morris
+had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to the
+gate and back and having his proposition declined,
+wandered away toward the tennis court, leaving Dick
+and Louise on the front steps, which, at nine o’clock
+in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had
+brought up the subject of the athletic field and both
+Morris and Louise had had their say. Morris, who
+was an ardent football enthusiast and played a good
+game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact
+that, with practice commencing in another three weeks
+or so, no place had been provided for it. Louise
+had reminded him gently that the doctor held out slight
+hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris
+had briefly and succinctly informed them that the
+doctor was an old granny and didn’t know what he
+was talking about. When he had gone Louise said:</p>
+
+<p>“You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa
+not to take the field, but he wouldn’t listen to us. He
+said the school could find another place to play on
+without trouble. He seems to think that all we need
+is a back yard or a vacant lot! I don’t think papa ever
+saw a game of baseball or football in his life.”</p>
+
+<p>“It is too bad that he has to cut that field up,” replied
+Dick, “but I don’t see any reason why he should
+consider us any. He’s been very good to let us use
+it so long. And he’s never charged us a penny, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“May Scott told me yesterday that her father had
+told her that the field might not be cut up after all.
+It seems that the mayor or whoever it is that has the
+say about such things doesn’t want papa to put the
+street through there unless he builds it up to some
+grade or other. I don’t understand about it. And
+papa doesn’t want to do that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I heard something of that sort. I believe
+the matter is to come up at a meeting this week. It’s
+the board of aldermen, I think, who are against it.
+It seems that the city has established a new grade
+out there and the present grade is several feet
+below it. I suppose it means that your father
+would have to do a good deal of filling in if he
+put the street through. Otherwise the city wouldn’t
+accept it.”</p>
+
+<p>“It sounds awfully complicated to me,” said Louise.
+“I just wish father would change his mind about
+it. I almost wish the—the aldermen would tell him
+he couldn’t do it!”</p>
+
+<p>“Perhaps they will,” laughed Dick. “But in that
+case your father would probably build to the new
+grade. So there isn’t much hope, I fear. No, I guess
+it’s up to us to move to new quarters. It’s a queer
+thing that in a town of this size there isn’t a place
+we can use.”</p>
+
+<p>“I know. And that field they’re talking about now
+is so hard to get to! Of course, there’s the trolley,
+but it’s been such fun to walk out to the games and
+have the field so near home. Your team plays a game
+this afternoon, doesn’t it, Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>“A sort of a game. We’re going to play a team
+called the Live Wires at four o’clock. They’re fellows
+in the mills and I guess they haven’t played together
+much. It’ll be sort of a practice affair for us.
+Tom Haley can’t play and Curtis Wayland is going to
+pitch for us. You haven’t been to any of the games,
+have you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one has asked me,” she laughed. “Morris has
+been laid up and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Would you care to go Saturday? We play the
+Hemlock Camp fellows. I guess they have a pretty
+good team.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d love to!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” Dick paused and frowned. “The
+trouble is,” he went on apologetically, “I’ll have to be
+on the bench a good deal of the time. Perhaps you’d
+rather not go.”</p>
+
+<p>“I shouldn’t mind. Just come and see me now and
+then, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Really? Then I’ll get Gordon or one of the fellows
+to call for you about half-past two.”</p>
+
+<p>“Indeed?” asked Louise coldly. “Why Gordon—or
+one of the fellows, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—why—because,” stammered Dick, “I
+thought probably you’d rather not—That is, I get
+along so slowly, you know<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Dick Lovering, you were going to say you thought
+I wouldn’t want to walk with you! Weren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, something of the sort. You see<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I don’t see at all,” she responded with suspicious
+sweetness. “I shall be very glad to go to the
+game with you, Dick, but I refuse to be palmed off
+on ‘Gordon or one of the fellows!’”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll be here for you at two-thirty, Louise. It
+isn’t very far, after all; only three blocks, you
+know.”</p>
+
+<p>“I ought to know,” she said dryly, “since I can
+see the top of the grandstand this minute. I may
+decide, however, that I want to go by way of the
+Common, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled doubtfully. “We-ell, that’s all right.
+I’m game! Now I guess I’d better be getting along.”</p>
+
+<p>“The car just went in,” said Louise. “You’ve got
+nearly a quarter of an hour yet. How are you getting
+along with your pupil?”</p>
+
+<p>“Finely! I tell him two or three times a week that
+we’ll never be able to do it, and he doubles up his fists
+and glares at me and wants to fight—almost. He’s
+an awfully stubborn little chap and he’s simply made
+up his mind that he’s going to get into school this
+Fall, and I think he will, too. He will if I can keep
+him mad!” And Dick, smiling, went swinging off to
+catch the car.</p>
+
+<p>That game with the Live Wires wasn’t as easy for
+Clearfield as Dick and Gordon and most of the others
+expected it to be. Of course Way wasn’t much of a
+pitcher, and that had to be reckoned with, but even
+allowing for that the Live Wires showed up a lot better
+than anticipated. From a financial standpoint the
+game was a huge success, in spite of the fact that the
+admission had been lowered to fifteen cents to entice
+the mill workers to attend. Attend they did, and
+“rooted” so lustily and incessantly for their team that
+poor Way was more than once up in the air. Young
+Tim Turner played in right field and Jack Tappen
+went over to left in place of Way. Tim didn’t do so
+badly, since out of three chances he got two flies and
+only muffed the third because the crowd hooted so
+loudly.</p>
+
+<p>It was quite a tight game up to the fifth inning,
+with both pitchers suffering badly at the hands of
+the opposing batsmen and both infields guilty of many
+stupid errors. But in the fifth Clearfield landed on
+Kelly, the Live Wires’ pitcher, and batted around before
+they were stopped, adding seven runs to the six
+already accumulated. In the seventh the opposing
+team returned the compliment and had Way dancing
+out of the path of liners and giving bases on the least
+provocation. But the infield steadied down then and
+only three runs came over for the Live Wires. The
+final score was fourteen to eight and Dick, who had
+acted as gateman in Tim’s absence, turned over nearly
+seventeen dollars to himself as treasurer. So, on
+the whole, the game was a success.</p>
+
+<p>When Dick got home after the game his mother told
+him that a Mr. Potter, from the <i>Reporter</i>, had called
+to see him and would be back about eight. Gordon
+came over after supper and was still there when the
+representative of the newspaper repeated his call. Mr.
+Potter, a wide-awake, energetic young man of twenty-five
+or six years, professed his pleasure at finding Gordon
+on hand. “Because,” he said as he took a chair in
+the Loverings’ little parlor, “I want to talk about another
+game of ball between your team and the Point.
+I wrote the story of the last game, by the way. I
+don’t know whether you saw it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we read it,” said Dick. “It was awfully
+good, I thought.”</p>
+
+<p>“I used to do that sort of stuff in Hartford. Well,
+say, fellows, how about another game? Anything
+doing along that line?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we’re to play the Point again later. There
+hasn’t been any date set yet, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, that’s good. I mean I’m glad you’re going
+to get together again. Folks who saw that game enjoyed
+it. There’s nothing like a game of ball to
+bring folks out and give them a good time. Now,
+Stevens—he’s my boss on the <i>Reporter</i>, you know—Stevens
+wants to get up a rousing good game for the
+final one, see? You and what’s-his-name out at the
+Point set a date; make it some Saturday, of course;
+and let me know and the <i>Reporter</i> will whoop things
+up. How would it do if we got the retail tradesmen
+or someone to offer a prize? Say a silver cup or a
+phonograph or a set of books or something? What
+the <i>Reporter</i> wants to do is to stir up some excitement;
+see? Get a big crowd there, have the Mayor
+throw out the ball, get folks pulling for the home team
+and all that sort of thing. Great scheme, eh? What
+do you fellows think?”</p>
+
+<p>The boys looked both doubtful and perplexed.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, I don’t know, Mr. Potter, that we want to
+make a—a Roman holiday of it,” objected Dick. “We
+started up the team just to have some fun, you see.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, you’ll have your fun, won’t you?” asked
+the newspaper man eagerly. “Don’t mind winning a
+prize and making a little money, too, do you? Look
+here, fellows, I’m keen on this. I want to make it go.
+To tell the truth, it was my idea. I put it up to Stevens
+and he fell for it. This town needs livening
+up. Say, honest, we could have the finest sort of a
+hullabaloo without half trying!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see why not, Dick,” observed Gordon,
+thinking a good deal of the money side of the project.</p>
+
+<p>Dick shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds sort of like
+a four-ring circus, doesn’t it?” He asked. “Still, I
+don’t mind. I dare say it would amuse folks.”</p>
+
+<p>“Amuse ’em! Say, I’ll guarantee to have ’em talking
+nothing but baseball in a week! I’ll get ’em so
+they’ll be offering fancy prices for the first row in
+the grandstand!”</p>
+
+<p>The boys laughed. There was something infectious
+in the man’s enthusiasm and the proposed affair began
+to loom up as a huge and very amusing lark.</p>
+
+<p>“Do you really think you can do it?” asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“Watch me! I’ll run a story to-morrow on the first
+page that negotiations are under way looking to a deciding
+game, see? And I’ll hint that there is so much
+feeling between the two teams that the outcome is
+doubtful. Then<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s hardly truthful, is it?” asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“Well, maybe I can get around that,” was the untroubled
+reply. “I’ll say that the folks at the Point
+are so certain that their team will win that they’re
+willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third
+game.”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ve got some imagination,” laughed Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Have to have in my business,” replied Mr. Potter
+with satisfaction. “You trust me to work up the
+excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go the limit.
+We’ll print your score-cards for you, and—that reminds
+me. How about a band? Ought to have a band
+there, oughtn’t we?”</p>
+
+<p>“Bands cost a good deal,” Gordon objected.</p>
+
+<p>“What of it? Why, say, we’ll have three or four
+hundred folks to see that game! We’ll get ’em in from
+the country and over from Springdale and Corwin and
+from miles around. It might be a good idea<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”
+Mr. Potter paused and stared into space a moment.
+Then he nodded vehemently. “That’s the scheme!
+I’ll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that afternoon.
+Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in
+amazement.</p>
+
+<p>“Why—why he wouldn’t do that, would he?”
+gasped Gordon. “Not just for a ball game?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure, he would, if the <i>Reporter</i> got after him hard.
+Say, you see that Point fellow, whatever his name
+is, and let me know by day after to-morrow. And
+don’t put it off too long. Let’s strike while the iron’s
+hot. Folks want to see baseball now. In another
+three weeks it’ll be about out of season. Well, that’s
+all. Glad to have met you fellows.” Mr. Potter shook
+hands briskly. “We’ll give Clearfield a ball game she
+won’t forget! Good-night. I’ll see you again in a
+day or two.”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c19'>CHAPTER XIX<br/>MR. POTTER GETS BUSY</h2>
+
+<p>When he was gone the two boys looked
+at each other a moment and then began
+to laugh.</p>
+
+<p>“Rather takes your breath away, doesn’t he?”
+gasped Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“I should say so! And of all crazy stunts<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Get out! It’s going to be a heap of fun! I’m
+for it—strong!”</p>
+
+<p>“So I see. But maybe the Pointers won’t care to
+take part in such a silly affair.”</p>
+
+<p>“Why not? Why, we’ll offer them twenty-five per
+cent. of the gate receipts and they’ll be dead anxious.”</p>
+
+<p>“Pshaw! They don’t need any money. What would
+they do with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Do with it? Why—why, what would anyone do
+with it? Eat it, of course!”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what I’d like to know. What are <i>we</i> going
+to do with it, for instance?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, there’s a lot of things we can do with it, Dick.
+We might—might give it to charity or—or—oh, lots
+of things!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, we’re in for it, anyway. I’ll talk to Caspar
+to-morrow. I guess two weeks from next Saturday
+would be a good date. The trouble is they’ve got a
+lot of games arranged and they may not be able to
+play us.”</p>
+
+<p>“You tell them what this Potter chap says and
+whoop it up, Dick. They can cancel a game if they
+want to.”</p>
+
+<p>True to his word, Mr. Potter started the ball rolling
+the next morning. The <i>Reporter</i> contained an announcement
+on the front page under a big head:</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>MAY PLAY OFF TIE</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER’S POINT BALL TEAMS</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>NEGOTIATE FOR THIRD GAME—BITTER</p>
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>RIVALRY EXISTS</p>
+
+<p>“Who has the better ball team, Clearfield or Rutter’s
+Point? That’s the question that is agitating both
+this community and the summer colony at the end
+of the trolley. And, if present plans carry, it is a
+question that will soon be settled definitely, and, we
+hope, to the satisfaction of Clearfield. Negotiations
+are to be opened to-day between representatives of
+the two teams looking to a third and deciding contest
+to be played on the High School field some time
+between now and the end of the month. Each nine
+has won one game and each nine claims to be a little
+better than the other. Over at the Point they are so
+certain that they have the champion bunch of players
+that they’re willing to do most anything to secure
+another game with Clearfield. At this end of
+the line there is an equally strong conviction to the
+effect that our own aggregation has more than a shade
+on the Point team. That’s the way it stands now,
+but the <i>Reporter</i> hopes to be able to announce in another
+day or two that the managers and backers of
+the rival teams have met and agreed on a deciding
+game. In which case we predict that those who are
+fortunate enough to witness the final battle will see
+a struggle they won’t forget in a long time. Watch
+for developments!”</p>
+
+<p>Besides that highly-colored effusion there was a
+short editorial inside in which the writer extolled
+athletics in general and baseball in particular. In
+twenty lines the writer alluded to Greek athletes,
+Roman games, Christopher Mathewson, Tyrus Cobb,
+the American Eagle, the Spirit of Fair Play and
+Clearfield. The style of the two productions was so
+much alike that Dick and Gordon decided that Mr.
+Potter was responsible for both.</p>
+
+<p>“I hope,” said Dick, “that Caspar won’t see this
+until I’ve prepared him for it. He will think we’ve
+gone crazy!”</p>
+
+<p>As it happened, however, Caspar Billings was much
+too busy playing tennis that morning to read the <i>Clearfield
+Reporter</i>, and when Dick met him he knew nothing
+of Mr. Potter’s activities. But five minutes later
+he had found the paper and was chuckling enjoyably
+over the story. “It’s great!” he declared. “That fellow
+ought to be working in New York. He’s lost
+in Clearfield. Say, we’ll have more fun than a picnic
+out of this, Lovering. What sort of a prize did he
+say?”</p>
+
+<p>“A cup or a phonograph or—or something like
+that.”</p>
+
+<p>“Me for a phonograph!” laughed Caspar. “Now,
+when can we play? Of course, we’ll go over to your
+field. Have to, anyway. How about two weeks from
+Saturday?”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the day I was going to suggest,” replied
+Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right for us. We had a game scheduled
+with a nine from the Ocean House at Traskville, but
+they telephoned the other day that they couldn’t make
+up a team. That gives What’s-his-name, your
+newspaper friend, a fortnight to work up the excitement.
+And I’ll bet you he will do it!”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess there’s no doubt about that,” replied Dick.
+“That’s settled, then, and I’ll let Potter know. Did I
+tell you he wanted to get the Mayor to declare a holiday
+and have the stores close?”</p>
+
+<p>“Great Scott, no!” chuckled Caspar. “He’s a wonder.
+Say, why don’t you suggest to him that it would
+be a bully idea to have the Governor issue a proclamation?
+Wonder if the New York stock market will
+close, Lovering.”</p>
+
+<p>“It will if Potter thinks of it,” laughed Dick. “Well,
+I must be going. I’ll see you again next week and
+we’ll arrange about an umpire.”</p>
+
+<p>“<i>An</i> umpire!” scoffed Caspar. “We’ll have to have
+two of them for this game; one at the plate and one
+on bases. Maybe your friend Potter can persuade
+President Johnson to officiate. This is going to be
+some game, Lovering!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s going to be a circus,” replied Dick. “I dare
+say they’ll be selling popcorn and peanuts there!”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I’m crazy
+about it. By the way, how are you and young Townsend
+getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the
+kid thinks you’re about the finest thing that ever
+walked on—I mean<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Ever hobbled on two crutches,” laughed Dick.
+“Well, Harold and I pull together pretty well these
+days. The boy is really working like a slave, Billings.
+I didn’t think he could do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s a heap more decent than he was the first of
+the season. You always wanted to kick him then.
+Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose he’s
+told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn’t do
+so badly, either. If you criticize his way of scoring
+he looks at you haughtily and says, ‘This is the way
+Lovering does it, and he knows!’”</p>
+
+<p>“You’ll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your
+scorer doesn’t do you justice, Billings. Good-bye!”</p>
+
+<p>It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational
+aspect of the third contest with Rutter’s Point. Fudge
+loved excitement and color and romance, and for that
+reason the <i>Reporter’s</i> daily items about the soul-stirring
+event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book
+and almost filled it with the amazing articles
+that appeared from Mr. Potter’s feverish and versatile
+pen. On the morning after Dick’s call on Caspar
+Billings the <i>Reporter</i> blazed forth at the top of the
+third column of the first page as follows:</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>THIRD GAME AGREED ON</p>
+
+<p style='margin-left:2em;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0'>CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER’S POINT TO PLAY OFF</p>
+<p style='margin-left:2em;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0'>TIE ON AUG. 27—LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT</p>
+<p style='margin-left:2em;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0'>STAKE—WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.</p>
+
+<p>What the captains said was that they expected a
+close game and didn’t care to predict the winner. At
+least, that’s what they really said. In Mr. Potter’s
+account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot
+more. Gordon read his remarks with astonishment
+and began to wonder whether he had not possibly said
+all those things after all!</p>
+
+<div align='center'>
+<img alt='' id='i2' src='images/illus-224.jpg' />
+<p style='width:348px'>“Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and
+did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately,
+several of Louise’s girl friends were there
+and Dick’s frequent absences from her side were not
+so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned
+dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever
+captain, played the sort of baseball one reads of. The
+Camp’s pitcher was something of a marvel and soon
+had Dick’s charges eating out of his hand, to use
+Harold’s expression. The contest developed into a
+pitcher’s battle in which Tom had slightly the worst
+of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by the
+score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting
+as some previous contests, it was at least nearly
+free of errors and full of fast, clean playing. Dick
+regretted on the way home that Louise had seen a
+defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that
+she had enjoyed it all very much.</p>
+
+<p>“You must come a week from to-day,” said Dick.
+“Lesterville is coming to play us a return game and
+that will be close and exciting, I think. Would you
+care to?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, indeed, only we’ll be at the Point then. Still,
+I could come over on the trolley, couldn’t I? I’ll get
+Morris to come with me. I wouldn’t think of having
+you come way over there for me, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick expressed his entire willingness to go to the
+Point and escort her to town, but Louise refused to
+allow it. “If you’ll come and see us during the game
+it will do just as well,” she said. Dick didn’t think
+so, but he said nothing.</p>
+
+<p>The mass meeting to take action on securing a new
+athletic field came off that evening in the High School
+assembly hall and, after much discussion, the meeting
+endorsed the committee’s plan to lease Tilden’s
+meadow for a term of two years. The committee reported
+that it had a balance on hand of twenty-eight
+dollars and forty-six cents and asked for more money.
+It was voted to appoint canvassers to visit the students
+and the graduates, and, if not enough money was
+secured from them, to ask the public to assist. Dick
+found himself one of the committee on subscriptions.
+Lanny was another. They sympathized with each
+other on their way home and were gibed at by Gordon
+and Fudge. Fudge offered Dick five cents then
+and there, and, his offer being unexpectedly accepted,
+had to borrow the nickel from Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>The next Monday the <i>Reporter</i> announced that a
+silver cup was to be donated by the merchants as a
+prize for the team winning the baseball game and that
+it would be on exhibition all next week in the window
+of Wetherell’s jewelry store. Tuesday afternoon Mr.
+Potter called on Dick with a proof of the poster which
+the <i>Reporter</i> was getting out. It was a gay piece of
+work in red and green ink and well calculated to attract
+the eye. In the center was a picture of a batsman
+with a flashing eye and a poised bat. That was
+printed in red. The lettering was in green and announced:
+“Championship Baseball! Clearfield vs.
+Rutter’s Point, High School Field, Saturday, September
+third, two-thirty o’clock. Music by Nagel’s Band.
+Admission 50 Cents, Reserved Seats 75 Cents. Tickets
+at Howland’s Drug Store, and at the Field before
+the game.”</p>
+
+<p>“We’re going to use a heavy cardboard stock,” explained
+Mr. Potter, “and we’ll strike off a hundred of
+’em. We’re going to charge you just what the stock
+and the labor cost us and no more.”</p>
+
+<p>“What about the score-cards?” asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“Won’t cost you a cent. I’ve got about a dozen
+advertisements and those will pay for the cards. Another
+thing we’re going to do is to run an ad of the
+game on Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next
+week.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s very kind,” murmured Dick. “You really
+think folks will pay seventy-five cents for seats?
+Wouldn’t it be better to make the prices fifty cents and
+a quarter?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think so, Lovering. We want ’em to understand
+that what they’re going to see is a real game
+of ball. They’ll pay the price all right. That reminds
+me of another thing. How would it do for
+you fellows to get hold of a crackerjack pitcher for
+this game? You could get one for thirty dollars or
+so. There’s Lafferty, of Providence, for instance. I
+dare say he’d twirl for you for twenty-five and his
+expenses. He’s a corker, too! I’ve seen him work.”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess not,” replied Dick. “I think we’ll stick to
+home talent. It seems a bit fairer.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, just as you say. This fellow Mason, though,
+is pretty good, and everyone would like to see the
+home team win that game. Better think it over. If
+you change your mind you let me know and I’ll attend
+to the matter for you. I suppose you chaps are keeping
+up practice pretty well?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, we practice every day except when there’s a
+game.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s the ticket! You play Lesterville next Saturday,
+don’t you? Well, I’ll give a good write-up of
+the game on Monday. Got to keep the excitement
+going.”</p>
+
+<p>When the newspaper man had gone Dick went out
+to the porch and sank into his favorite chair beside
+the little table. He was tired and the day was a
+scorching hot one. There had been a solid three hours
+that morning with Harold Townsend and, although
+Harold had done his share without a whimper, it
+had been pretty hard for teacher as well as pupil. Dick
+closed his eyes and frowned in the green shadow of
+the vines. Was Harold going to make it? There
+were times when Dick was sure that he would, but
+also there were moments, usually when, as to-day, he
+was fagged out, when he had his doubts. If Harold
+could remember what he had learned when the time
+came he would undoubtedly get through, but there was
+always the danger that he wouldn’t. Dick sighed. At
+least, though, he reflected, his frown fading, he was
+doing his honest best for the boy. And—and here
+the frown quite disappeared—he had made a nice lot
+of money that was greatly needed. He would, he
+told himself, have enough by the middle of the month,
+when Harold went off to Rifle Point to put the summer’s
+work to the test, to pay for a new heater for
+the house. That was the most necessary improvement
+of the many that were needed. For the last
+two or three years the old furnace, never satisfactory,
+had quite failed to keep them comfortable in cold
+weather. Dick was wondering how much the
+hardware man would allow him for it when the gate clicked
+and Gordon and Morris Brent came up the path.</p>
+
+<p>Morris still used his crutches, but, as he explained,
+the doctor had told him yesterday that he might lay
+them aside in another week. “And I’ll be mighty glad
+to,” he added. “They’re rotten things to have to get
+about with.” Then his eye fell on Dick’s crutches,
+leaning within reach, and he colored. “I guess I
+oughtn’t to kick, though,” he added hastily.</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled. “They are awkward if you’re not used
+to them, I suppose, Morris. I’m glad you’re getting
+on so well. Gordon says you’re going to move to the
+Point this week.”</p>
+
+<p>Morris nodded. “Wednesday,” he said. “I want
+you and Gordon to come out some evening and have
+dinner. Will you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, yes, I’d be glad to, Morris. Thank you.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I’ll settle on a day with the folks. Mother
+told me to tell you she wanted very much to have
+you. Louise, too. How would Saturday do?”</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I think. We have a game Saturday, but
+I dare say it will be over by five. What time do you
+dine?”</p>
+
+<p>“Seven. That’ll give you heaps of time. I’m going
+to fetch Louise in to see the game and we can all go
+back together.” Morris turned to Gordon. “That
+suit you?” he asked.</p>
+
+<p>“Finely. Could we get the quarter of six car, do
+you think? I’d like mighty well to get a swim before
+dinner. Got an extra bathing suit out there?”</p>
+
+<p>“You can take mine. What do you want to do with
+this?” Morris held up a book in a red cloth cover.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I brought that over for you, Dick,” said
+Gordon. “That is, I borrowed it and he
+brought it. Thought you might like to look it
+over.”</p>
+
+<p>“Much obliged,” said Dick, accepting the volume
+and reading the title rather puzzledly. “‘The Automobile;
+it’s Care and Management.’ Er—what<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” He
+looked from Gordon to Morris. “What’s the idea,
+fellows? I’m much obliged, of course, but why should
+I want to study up on autos, please?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you like to know how to do everything,” replied
+Gordon carelessly. “That’s mighty interesting,
+isn’t it, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“Great!” agreed the other enthusiastically. Dick
+still looked puzzled, but opened the book and glanced
+at two or three of its pages.</p>
+
+<p>“All right, I’ll have a go at it some time. It does
+look interesting. Thank you.” He laid the volume
+on the table. “What ever became of that car of yours,
+Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s home. I’m going to sell it. I paid Stacey
+the rest of the money I owed him the other day. He’s
+a mean little runt. Don’t want to buy it, do you,
+Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled and shook his head. “I’m afraid I
+couldn’t afford it. It would be sort of handy for me
+to get around in, though, wouldn’t it? Look here!”
+He viewed the two boys searchingly. “You fellows
+didn’t bring me this book expecting I’d get daffy about
+automobiles and buy that one of yours, did you?”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not,” disclaimed Gordon hurriedly. “Besides,
+Morris has a buyer for that car already. That
+is, he thinks he has.”</p>
+
+<p>“All right. Still I don’t see why you think I want
+to read up on automobiles,” said Dick. “What’s the
+use of knowing how to run a car and grease its joints
+if I haven’t got one and couldn’t run it if I had?”</p>
+
+<p>“Couldn’t run it! Of course you could run it,” said
+Gordon. “Couldn’t he, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“Easy! It’s nothing to do. I could show you how
+in two days. Why<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>But at that moment Morris encountered Gordon’s
+warning look and subsided. Dick stared perplexedly.</p>
+
+<p>“I think you chaps are crazed by the heat,” he said.
+“You’ve got automobiles on the brain. What you
+need, Gordie, is to get out and play ball. It must
+be about time to start for the field, too. By the way,
+Harry telephoned over at noon that he couldn’t get
+out to-day.”</p>
+
+<p>“Again? I’ll bet anything Harry’s father isn’t keeping
+him away from practice. He’s just lazy. I guess
+we’d better come down on him with that twenty-five
+cent fine!”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll go over with you and look on if you don’t
+mind,” said Morris. “You can’t call me one of the
+enemy now, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Glad to have you,” responded Dick. “I’ll put this
+book inside and we’ll start along. We’ll make a fine
+appearance,” he laughed. “Two cripples and a crazy
+fellow!”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c20'>CHAPTER XX<br/>MR. BRENT TO THE RESCUE</h2>
+
+<p>A big crowd turned out the following Saturday
+for the Lesterville game. As a manufacturing
+town Lesterville was something
+of a rival to Clearfield and baseball lovers of the latter
+place were eager to see the Lesterville players
+humbled. By half-past two—the game was scheduled
+for three o’clock—the stand was well filled. Dick’s
+charges reached the field soon after the half-hour
+and began practice. They had, however, scarcely begun
+throwing the balls around when there was a commotion
+at the gate and Tim Turner was seen excitedly
+gesticulating toward Dick, who, near first base, was
+watching the team. Dick hurried across to the gate
+and found Tim trying to exclude a short, red-faced
+man in blue overalls.</p>
+
+<p>“He says he wants to get in to open the big gate,”
+explained Tim. “He says they’re going to begin work
+in here. They’ve got a cart down the street there
+and a lot of men and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure,” said the man in overalls. “We’re going
+to plow in here. Them’s the orders.”</p>
+
+<p>“But you can’t do it now,” exclaimed Dick. “We’re
+going to play in half an hour. Those folks on the
+stand have paid to see the game. Can’t you wait until
+Monday?”</p>
+
+<p>“We cannot,” replied the man emphatically. “Mr.
+Brent give me the contract to build the street through
+here and me time’s valuable. You’ll have to play your
+game somewhere else, I’m thinking.”</p>
+
+<p>“But we can’t do that! There isn’t any other place!
+Look here, Mr. Brent gave us permission to use this
+field and I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to come and
+break up our game like this. The other fellows have
+come all the way from Lesterville to play us.”</p>
+
+<p>“’Tis no affair of mine, young feller.” The man
+tried to push by Dick and Tim, but many of the audience,
+attracted by the argument, had gathered around,
+and these, taking Dick’s side, stood immovably in the
+way. The contractor showed anger. “Now you fellers
+let me through here till I open them gates down
+there,” he blustered. “If you don’t we’ll break ’em
+down.”</p>
+
+<p>“Try it!” said someone eagerly, and a laugh of approval
+went up.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll get the cops here if you make trouble for me
+an’ me men! An’ if it’s trouble you’re lookin’ for<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, run away till the game’s over, can’t you?”
+asked another of the throng. “Be a sport! What’s
+the good of busting up the fun?”</p>
+
+<p>“An’ me losin’ money while you fellers play ball,
+eh? What for would I be doin’ that? You leave me
+get to the gates.”</p>
+
+<p>“Nothing doing, friend! Better back out!”</p>
+
+<p>“Hold on a minute,” said Dick quietly. “Will you
+wait fifteen minutes, Mister—er<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Me name’s Mullin,” growled the contractor.
+“What’ll I be waitin’ fer?”</p>
+
+<p>“To give us a chance to see Mr. Brent about it.”</p>
+
+<p>“I got me contract, an’<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I know,” said Dick soothingly. “That’s all right.
+You’ve got a perfect right to come in here and do
+whatever you’ve got to do, but it’s going to put us in
+an awful mess. Give us time to find Mr. Brent and
+see what he says about it, won’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“How long will it take?”</p>
+
+<p>“Not long. Say fifteen minutes. He’s probably
+here in town. I’ll ask his son. He’s over there in
+the stand.” Dick wasn’t at all certain that Morris
+had arrived, but he risked it. The contractor hesitated
+and finally nodded surlily.</p>
+
+<p>“All right. I’ll give you till three o’clock. Then
+I’m goin’ in here, an’ if anyone tries to stop
+me<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I understand. Thank you. Tim, pass the gentleman
+inside until we settle this.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll wait here,” said the contractor grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Dick hurried across to the stand and searched for
+Morris. Presently he found him, with Louise at his
+side, halfway up the slope.</p>
+
+<p>“Is your father in town, Morris?” he asked anxiously
+after he had greeted Louise.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know. What’s wanted, Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick explained hurriedly and Morris whistled. “He
+may be at his office or he may be on his way out to
+the Point. He doesn’t usually stay in town on Saturday
+afternoons in summer. I’ll see if I can find him,
+though. Only thing is, it’ll take me a long time to
+hobble over to his office.”</p>
+
+<p>“I can do it quicker, I guess. Or, hold on! I know!
+I’ll get Gordon to go. I’ll be back presently.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick hurried down to the diamond and summoned
+Gordon from first base. Practice was still going on,
+but in a desultory way, for most eyes had been turned
+toward the gate. As quickly as he could Dick explained
+what had happened. “He will do it for you if
+he will for anyone,” ended Dick. “See if he won’t
+call off the workmen until after the game or until
+Monday, Gordon. Morris says he may be at his
+office. If he isn’t he’s gone home to the Point.
+Try the telephone in that case. And try to get back
+here by three. That chap won’t wait much longer.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon nodded and sped toward the gate just as
+the Lesterville team came onto the field. He was
+in his playing clothes, but there was no time to change
+them and he didn’t, as a matter of fact, give much
+thought to them. It was five blocks to Mr. Brent’s
+office in the bank building, and two of the blocks were
+long ones. Gordon did the distance in five minutes
+and leaped up the marble stairway to find a clerk just
+locking the outer door of the office.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Brent?” he gasped.</p>
+
+<p>“Gone home,” replied the clerk, looking curiously
+at Gordon’s attire and perspiring countenance. “He
+left about five minutes ago. You might catch him
+before he gets the trolley.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon raced off again and fortune was with him.
+Only a block down F Street he descried Mr. Brent in
+front of him walking briskly toward the car line and
+tapping the pavement with his cane. Gordon overtook
+him just over the Main Street crossing. Morris’ father
+turned at the boy’s breathless hail.</p>
+
+<p>“Ah, that you, Merrick? How do you do! Want
+to see me?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, please!” gasped Gordon. “Mr. Brent,
+they’re trying to get into the field, sir, to start work
+on it this afternoon. And we’re playing Lesterville
+and there’s a big crowd there, sir<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean that Mullin is starting work there?
+Well, that’s all right, my boy. I told him to.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, of course, but—but couldn’t he wait until
+Monday, sir? We are going to play Lesterville, and
+they’re here and there’s a lot of folks paid to see the
+game.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that’s it, is it? Why, I don’t know, Merrick.
+What does Mullin say? It’s his affair now. He has
+the contract for the work, you see.”</p>
+
+<p>“He says he won’t wait, Mr. Brent. But if you
+told him to<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“But really, Merrick, I haven’t any right to interfere!”</p>
+
+<p>“It—it’s your field, sir! And you said we could
+use it!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent frowned. “I said you could use it until I
+was ready to put the street through, Merrick. Wasn’t
+that it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, sir, I suppose so,” replied Gordon dejectedly.
+Mr. Brent drew his big gold watch from his waistcoat
+pocket, snapped it open, frowned at it and snapped
+it shut again.</p>
+
+<p>“As a matter of fact, Merrick, if the city council
+hadn’t held me up on that business you’d have lost
+your field weeks ago. You ought to be thankful for
+that. We’re late on starting that work as it is and
+I prefer not to have any more delay. I’m sorry, but
+you boys will have to play your game somewhere else.”
+He smiled, dropped his watch back to his pocket and
+turned toward the car line.</p>
+
+<p>“There isn’t any other place, sir,” said Gordon
+sadly.</p>
+
+<p>“No other place? Why, there must be lots of
+places! I’ve seen boys playing ball all sorts of places.
+There’s a back-lot behind my offices, now. I’ve seen
+them playing there day after day—and making a lot
+of noise, too. Come now, Merrick, you’re fibbing a
+little, aren’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir, really,” Gordon answered earnestly. “You
+can’t play a real game of baseball on a small lot, sir.
+I guess—I guess you’ve never seen one, Mr. Brent.”</p>
+
+<p>“Seen a game of ball? N-no, I suppose not. I
+thought all you needed was an empty lot or a back-yard,
+Merrick. You say there isn’t any other place?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir. We’re going to lease a piece of ground
+out toward the Point, but we haven’t got it yet, and,
+anyway, it isn’t ready for playing on.”</p>
+
+<p>“Too bad,” said Mr. Brent sympathetically. “But,
+really, Merrick, you ought not to ask me to stop work
+in order that you can play baseball. That—that’s a
+little too much, eh?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose so, sir,” acknowledged Gordon dejectedly.
+“Only—we thought—maybe a half a day
+wouldn’t make much difference<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“A half a day might make a lot of difference. Minutes
+count, my boy. You’ll learn that some day. No,
+no, I can’t interfere with Mullin. It’s his job. If he
+wants to accommodate you, all right, but you mustn’t
+expect me to interfere in his affairs, Merrick. Sorry.
+I’d like to oblige you.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon stared at the pavement. Mr. Brent coughed,
+turned away and hesitated. “Well, good-day, Merrick,”
+he said finally.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Brent!” Gordon raised his head, his cheeks
+rather red. “Mr. Brent, you said once that—that if
+I ever wanted a favor—you<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Hm; yes, I know I did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, sir, I’d like awfully to have you do this
+for us.”</p>
+
+<p>“Think that will square accounts, Merrick?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—why, you don’t owe me anything, sir,”
+stammered Gordon, “but you said<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and I’ll keep my word.” Mr. Brent sighed
+and looked regretfully down the street. “All right.
+Come on, then. I’ll walk over with you and see what
+can be done.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thank you,” Gordon murmured as he fell into
+step beside the man. “It—it’s awfully good of you,
+sir.”</p>
+
+<p>“H’m,” replied Mr. Brent dryly. “You evidently
+don’t value your service to me very highly, Merrick.
+It doesn’t occur to you, apparently, that you might
+ask a good deal more than this in return for what
+you did for Morris.”</p>
+
+<p>“I—I never meant to ask for anything,” murmured
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Hm. More fool you, then!”</p>
+
+<p>There was no more conversation. Mr. Brent
+walked briskly and it was but a minute or two after
+three when they reached the field. It was evident
+that they had got there none too soon, for the big
+gates halfway along the board fence were open and
+a wagon with a plow in it was drawn partly through
+it. That it was not all the way through was due
+to the fact that the audience, or a good part of it, had
+gathered at the point of attack and was doing its best
+to repel the contractor’s men. Shouts and jeers and
+laughter came from the scene. At the ticket gate
+young Tim Turner, afraid to leave his post of duty,
+was peering longingly toward the turmoil. Mr. Brent
+strode more quickly.</p>
+
+<p>“Hm,” he said, “I don’t see that I was needed much,
+Merrick.”</p>
+
+<p>Mullin, the contractor, very red of face and angry
+of eye, was berating the jeering crowd with the rough
+side of his tongue. Five laborers, two of them clutching
+the bridles of the horses, looked ready and eager
+for a fight. At sight of Mr. Brent a cheer went up
+from the crowd inside the gates, and Dick, anxious-eyed,
+fell back from where he had been vainly trying
+to avert trouble. Mr. Brent walked up to the contractor.</p>
+
+<p>“Get out, Mullin,” he said. “Leave it until Monday.”</p>
+
+<p>Mullin scowled hard. “An’ who’ll pay me for the
+time I’ll be losin’, Mr. Brent?” he demanded angrily.</p>
+
+<p>“I will,” was the reply. “You ought to have seen,
+anyway, that the field was being used. Get your
+team out now. I’ll settle for your loss.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all right, then,” replied the contractor. “All
+I wants is me rights. Back ’em out, Jerry.” And
+amidst the jeers of the spectators Mullin and his men
+retired, the gates were closed again and barred and,
+laughing and jostling, the defenders hurried back to
+secure their seats before others appropriated them,
+leaving Dick and the ball players and a few still
+curious ones at the gate. Among the latter was Morris,
+and it was Morris who, grinning broadly, came
+forward on his crutches.</p>
+
+<p>“Good stuff, dad,” he said approvingly.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent viewed him without enthusiasm. “You
+here?” he asked. “Where is your sister?”</p>
+
+<p>“In the stand, sir. I<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“You’d better go back and look after her, it seems
+to me,” said Mr. Brent grimly. Morris’s grin faded
+and, with a wink at Gordon, he hobbled back toward
+the seats.</p>
+
+<p>“We’re awfully much obliged, sir,” said Dick. “If
+it hadn’t been for all these people, who had paid to see
+the game<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course. I understand. You needn’t thank me.
+Thank Merrick.”</p>
+
+<p>The players went back to their places, Lesterville
+to the diamond to finish her warming up, and Clearfield
+to the bench. Gordon was left practically alone
+with Mr. Brent, even Dick deserting him. From beyond
+the fence came the angry bellow of the contractor’s
+orders. “Leave the team here, Jerry,” he
+was saying. “We’ll be back Monday, an’ I’d like to
+see the man that’ll be stoppin’ me then!”</p>
+
+<p>“Wouldn’t you like to see the game, Mr. Brent,
+now that you’re here?” asked Gordon at last. He
+ought to be with his team-mates, but he didn’t want to
+walk away and leave Mr. Brent standing alone there
+by the gate. The latter, who had been looking curiously
+at the renewed activity of the Lesterville players,
+now glanced at his watch, grunted and nodded.</p>
+
+<p>“I might as well stay awhile,” he replied. “Where
+do you pay?”</p>
+
+<p>“You needn’t pay, sir. We’re glad to have you
+see the game.”</p>
+
+<p>“I prefer to pay,” was the reply as Mr. Brent
+followed Gordon toward the stand. “Here, son!” He
+had caught sight of Tim Turner at the ticket gate
+and walked across to him. “What’s the price?”</p>
+
+<p>“T-Twenty-five cents, sir,” stammered Tim.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent found two dimes and a nickel among his
+change, handed them to the awed Tim and went on.
+“Where’s Morris?” he asked. “I’ll sit with him a
+few minutes.”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon didn’t know where Morris was, but he
+called to Dick and Dick pointed him out. Then Gordon
+piloted Mr. Brent up the stand and by dint of
+much moving and shoving a place was made for him
+and Gordon, muttering his thanks again and getting
+a non-committal nod from Mr. Brent, took himself
+off.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m so glad, papa,” said Louise gratefully. “It
+would have been horrid if they couldn’t have played
+the game, wouldn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Would it?” Mr. Brent smiled and settled his cane
+between his knees. “Who are those young fellows
+out there, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“Those are the Lesterville players, sir. They’re
+warming up for the game.”</p>
+
+<p>“Warming up, eh? Then the game hasn’t begun
+yet?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir. They’re coming in now, though. It will
+start in a minute.”</p>
+
+<p>“Need all this room for a game of ball, do they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why, of course, papa,” replied Louise. “Sometimes
+they hit the ball way over by the further fence
+there!”</p>
+
+<p>“That so? Well, let’s see ’em do it!”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c21'>CHAPTER XXI<br/>MR. BRENT TELEPHONES</h2>
+
+<p>Perhaps a liking for baseball is latent in every
+American. Otherwise how explain the fact
+that Mr. Jonathan Brent, who, on his own
+showing, had never witnessed a game before in his
+life, watched that one with very evident interest? It
+was, of course, quite incomprehensible to him at first
+and both Morris and Louise had to do a lot of patient
+explaining. But by the end of the second inning their
+father had a very fair notion of what was going on,
+although he still was puzzled by many of the incidents.
+As when a Lesterville player tried to reach
+second after Will Scott had captured a foul behind
+third base and was thrown out by a scant foot. If
+it was a foul, argued Mr. Brent, that fellow on first
+shouldn’t have left his base. No sooner was that
+explained—by Morris, since Louise’s knowledge of
+baseball wasn’t sufficient for the task—than Tom Haley
+was unfortunate enough to hit the Lesterville right
+fielder on the elbow. The umpire waved the squirming,
+dancing batter to first and Mr. Brent exclaimed:
+“Now, what’s that for, Morris? He didn’t hit the
+ball, did he?”</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the fourth inning, when Clearfield
+had managed to bat out a two run lead, Mr. Brent
+looked at his watch and announced his intention of
+leaving. “Guess you can finish this without me now,”
+he said. “Mother will be wondering where I’ve gone
+to.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, she won’t,” replied Louise. “Mama’s gone to
+Mrs. Grey’s this afternoon. Do stay and see just two
+more innings, papa.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, don’t leave us now, dad,” said Morris. “You
+never can tell what’s going to happen in a ball game!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent frowned, fidgeted and finally leaned back
+again. “Well,” he said, “I’ll see one more turn for
+each of ’em.”</p>
+
+<p>But at the end of the seventh when, after Lesterville
+had gone ahead in the fifth, Clearfield came back
+with two doubles and a base on balls and evened up
+the score, Mr. Brent was still there and showed no
+signs of leaving. In fact, although we have only Morris’
+word for it—Louise remaining smilingly reticent
+on the point—when, in the eighth, with three Lesterville
+players on bases and only one out, Harry Bryan
+and Pete Robey executed a lightning double-play that
+retired the side without a tally, Mr. Brent’s voice was
+to be heard with the others that went up in a shout
+of delight! And even Louise affirmed that, in the
+tenth inning, when Gordon rapped out the single that
+sent Harry Bryan across with the winning run Mr.
+Brent pounded approvingly with his cane and declared
+that “that Merrick boy was a smart one!”</p>
+
+<p>Ten to nine was the final tally and Dick and Harold
+Townsend, who had sat beside the manager during
+the entire game and kept a perfectly correct score—barring
+a mistake or two quickly set right by a surreptitious
+glance at Dick’s columns—closed their score-books
+with delighted slams. Revenge is sweet, and
+this had been fairly won.</p>
+
+<p>Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable
+Harold journeyed together by trolley car
+to the Point and talked the game over with a wealth
+of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry
+party at the Brents’ cottage that evening. Mr. Brent
+pretended to have found the game very tiresome and
+declared that he didn’t see any sense in grown-up
+boys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the
+young folks, and Mrs. Brent, too, she having heard of
+her husband’s doings, pretended that they believed
+him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his
+swim in the ocean before, borrowed Morris’ suit and
+went in by moonlight. The cottage almost overhung
+the waves and the others, on the veranda, watched
+him glide in and out of the moon’s path and supplied
+him with a lot of doubtless excellent advice on the
+subject of swimming. Still later, with Gordon once
+more among them, Louise brought out her mandolin
+and they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring
+Townsend and Caspar Billings joined the company
+and added their voices to the chorus. Then they talked
+some more; of the day’s game, of the next Saturday’s
+important contest—and the <i>Reporter’s</i> latest efforts—of
+school and a dozen other things.</p>
+
+<p>Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield,
+both comfortably tired and sleepy, and Gordon
+walked home with Dick. It was just before they
+reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise
+on his friend.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ve been thinking,” announced Dick, “that there’s
+one mighty good use we can put our money to, Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>“What money?” asked Gordon, with a yawn.</p>
+
+<p>“Why, the money we’ve made on the games. You
+see, if we have the crowd next week that Potter thinks
+we’ll have we ought to be about two hundred and
+fifty dollars in pocket.”</p>
+
+<p>“Easy! Then what?”</p>
+
+<p>“Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a
+track on the new field. How’s that for a scheme?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—oh, that’s fine!” But Gordon’s tone
+didn’t sound terribly enthusiastic!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Potter’s prediction came true. By Monday
+Clearfield was undeniably baseball-mad. Even middle-aged
+and serious-minded merchants discussed the
+probable outcome of the third game between the home
+team and the Pointers when they met each other on
+the street or when they hobnobbed over the Fifty
+Cent Merchant’s Lunch at Martin’s Café. The
+younger element of the town was wrought up to a
+fine pitch of excitement. Those of its sterner sex
+who could do so went out to watch the Clearfield
+team practice in the afternoon, while the gentler sex,
+especially those with High School affiliations, became
+wildly partisan. A dozen or more girls, led by Grace
+Lovering, got together and manufactured a gorgeous
+pennant of purple and white silk, some four feet long,
+which, when completed, was hung behind the silver
+trophy in Wetherell’s window and, like the handsome
+cup, was to be presented to the winner. It was Lanny
+who made the suggestion that the pennant was much
+too good looking to become the property of the Pointers
+and that it should be a perpetual trophy to be
+played for each year. The girls approved the suggestion
+and the <i>Reporter</i> amended its previous statement
+regarding the flag. The trolley company announced
+a fare of one-half the usual rate for the
+round-trip on Saturday between Clearfield and near-by
+towns, and, while Mr. Potter failed to prevail on the
+Mayor to declare a public holiday, he did persuade the
+shop-keepers to agree to close their places of business
+between the hours of two and five. As a matter of
+fact, with few exceptions all of them were glad to
+do so, for they wanted to see that game as much
+as anyone!</p>
+
+<p>There was usually a crowd in front of Wetherell’s
+jewelry store that week. In the front row one found
+a half-dozen or so of small urchins with their noses
+pressed closely against the plate-glass, while behind
+them stood a scattering of older persons admiring,
+criticizing and audibly reading the engraved inscription
+which informed the world that the cup was to
+be “Presented by the Retail Merchants of Clearfield
+to the <span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span> Baseball Club, Winners of the Clearfield
+Championship, September Third, Nineteen Hundred
+and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>.” It was a very attractive affair, that
+trophy; twelve inches high, with a fluted base and
+two scrolled handles and a polished ebony stand beneath
+it. It was generally conceded that the merchants
+had done themselves proud. The <i>Reporter</i>
+gave a picture of it and a half-column list of those
+who had subscribed.</p>
+
+<p>The town was liberally scattered with the red and
+green posters on Monday. They glared and shouted
+at one from every window. One was not allowed to
+forget for an instant that on the following Saturday
+afternoon the greatest and most important athletic
+event in the history of Clearfield was to be witnessed
+at the High School Field for the ridiculously moderate
+price of fifty cents—or seventy-five if you
+wanted to be sure of a seat!</p>
+
+<p>All this in spite of the fact that from every indication
+there would be no field to play on!</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Potter was at Dick’s at a quarter past seven
+that morning. He was filled with dismay and wrath,
+and some of the things he said about Mr. Jonathan
+Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-five
+he hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a
+few minutes before nine he was back again, literally
+frothing at the mouth.</p>
+
+<p>“Say!” he almost shouted in response to Dick’s
+anxious query. “Say! He didn’t say a thing! He
+let me talk my head off, that is all he did! I told
+him that public opinion would be against him if he
+allowed that field to be demolished before the game,
+that Clearfield would be up in arms, that the <i>Reporter</i>
+would deal editorially with the matter and not mince
+its words!” Mr. Potter faltered then.</p>
+
+<p>“What did he say to that?” asked Dick. “He must
+have said something!”</p>
+
+<p>“He said,” replied the newspaper man subduedly,
+“that he controlled three-fifths of the stock of the
+<i>Reporter</i> and he guessed the paper wouldn’t be too
+hard on him!”</p>
+
+<p>Dick grinned. “Does he?”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. “Yes, but I’d forgotten
+it. After that I had to—well, I had to tone
+down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn’t be possible
+to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I
+told him about all the advertising that had been done
+and how everyone was looking forward to the game
+and all that, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes? And he wouldn’t agree?”</p>
+
+<p>“He said, ‘Young man, get out!’ Just that and not
+another word!”</p>
+
+<p>“Then I guess it’s all off,” said Dick regretfully.
+“It’s too bad. Of course, we might play the game at
+the Point<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“We couldn’t get the crowd over there. No, sir,
+it’s got to be played here. You’re certain there isn’t
+another field anywhere?”</p>
+
+<p>“Absolutely certain.”</p>
+
+<p>“Then there’s just one thing to be done. It’s a
+last resort and it doesn’t promise well, but I’ll try
+it.”</p>
+
+<p>“What?” asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Potter sank his voice. “See the contractor,” he
+said, “and buy him off. For a hundred dollars<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“A hundred dollars!” exclaimed his hearer.
+“Where’d we get it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pshaw, we’ll clear up two hundred easy if we can
+pull the game off!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” replied Dick doubtfully, “but even so I
+don’t believe Mullin would dare to do it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Supposing, though, his men went on strike?” suggested
+the other with a wink. “He couldn’t help himself
+then, could he?”</p>
+
+<p>“N-no, but—I don’t like it, Mr. Potter. It’s pretty
+under-hand, it seems to me. After all, we don’t <i>have</i>
+to play that game, and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t have to! You bet you have to! Look at
+that cup! Look at all the printing we’ve done; posters,
+score-cards, tickets! Look at<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” But words failed
+him and he seized his hat from the table. “Here,
+I’ve got to get busy! That Irishman may be
+plowing up the field right now! See you later,
+Lovering!”</p>
+
+<p>And Mr. Potter dashed off again.</p>
+
+<p>Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about
+developments and after that Tom Haley wanted information.
+Dick had no hopeful news to impart,
+however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as
+Dick was starting for the Point—by way of Brentwood—and
+walked with him as far as the corner of
+A Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and
+reminded him that three was a crowd. Dick had the
+grace to blush.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come on,” he said awkwardly. “Don’t be a
+silly chump!”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks,” murmured Gordon sweetly, “but we
+wouldn’t think of intruding. Come along, Fudge.”</p>
+
+<p>“Wh-wh-what’s up?” asked Fudge when Dick had
+gone on. “Wh-why didn’t you w-w-want to go
+along?”</p>
+
+<p>“I can’t explain,” replied Gordon gently. “You’re
+too young, Fudge, to hear such things.”</p>
+
+<p>Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to
+“ch-ch-chase himself!”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed
+at Dick because he hadn’t been able to find him
+before. “Say, there’s something funny about this
+business,” he confided, sinking into a chair on the
+porch and mopping his forehead vigorously. “I went
+over to the field after I left you this morning and
+there wasn’t a thing doing. You said Mullin left his
+wagon there, didn’t you?” Dick nodded. “Well, it’s
+gone now. I tried to get him on the ’phone and his
+wife said he was out of town. What do you make
+of that?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe Mr.
+Brent thought better of it after you left him. You’re
+certain the wagon was gone?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside.
+There wasn’t a scratch there and there wasn’t
+even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now, what does
+that mean? I’d call the old chap up and ask him,
+only—well, frankly, Lovering, I’m afraid I’ll lose my
+job! I suppose you wouldn’t want to get him on
+the telephone and ask him about it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I’d a lot rather not,” owned Dick. “I guess I’m
+just about as scared of him as you are.”</p>
+
+<p>“But he can’t hurt you! With me it’s different. If
+he ever tells Stevens I went to his office and read
+the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me a ticket and
+a week’s pay!”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to,”
+said Dick after a moment’s thought. “I’ll see if I
+can find him on the ’phone.”</p>
+
+<p>But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said
+she believed he had gone somewhere with Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll see him at four o’clock,” said Dick. “I told
+the fellows we’d meet at the field and hold practice
+if we could find room there. I don’t see why—Excuse
+me a minute, will you?”</p>
+
+<p>The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches
+again and once more swung himself into the house.</p>
+
+<p>“This you, Dick?” asked the voice at the other end
+of the line. “This is Morris. Say, Dick, I had a
+funny message from my dad a few minutes ago. He
+telephoned from the office. ‘You can tell that Merrick
+boy,’ says he, ‘that he can go on and use the field.
+Tell him to come and see me Wednesday. I’m going
+to Hartford at three and I’ll be back Wednesday
+noon.’ That’s great, isn’t it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have
+it until after Saturday, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn’t it? And his
+wanting to see Gordon makes it look that way, too.
+I’ve been trying to find Gordon, but his mother says
+he’s out somewhere. If you see him get him to call
+me up here at the Point, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will. That’s bully news, Morris, and your
+father’s a brick! I’ve just been talking with Mr. Potter.
+He’s all het up about it,” laughed Dick. “He
+will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks.
+I’ll tell Gordon when I see him about four.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the
+porch to be confronted by Mr. Potter’s eager and
+questioning countenance.</p>
+
+<p>“I couldn’t help hearing what you said,” he exclaimed.
+“Has he come around?”</p>
+
+<p>“I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon
+that we could go on and use the field and that Gordon
+was to call and see him on Wednesday. He’s going
+to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it’s all right.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. “Well, I
+hope so. I want to put this thing through now that
+I’ve started, Lovering. I’ll breathe easier, though,
+when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again
+about Wednesday we’ll be in a worse pickle than
+ever!”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he’s concluded
+to let us use the field. If he hadn’t Mullin
+would be at work this minute. If I were you, though,
+I’d hear what Mullin says.”</p>
+
+<p>“I will, just as soon as he gets home.” Mr. Potter
+looked at his watch and jumped to his feet. “I must
+be off. Say, that’s a load off my mind, all right! Now
+I’ll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. He
+wants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that’s
+fair enough. By the way, can you let me have your
+batting-list to-morrow? We want to print those score-cards
+about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything
+more call me up at the office. If I’m not there
+they’ll take a message. Bye!”</p>
+
+<p>“I wonder,” mused Gordon when Dick met him at
+practice an hour later, “what he wants to see me
+about.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it’s about the field, I suppose,” said Dick.
+“Don’t look so frightened, Gordie. He won’t eat
+you!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully.
+“I know, but that man scares me to death. I don’t
+know why, either. He’s always been as nice as pie
+to me. I guess it’s his eyes. They sort of go right
+through you and come out the other side!”</p>
+
+<p>There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon
+and the Clearfield Baseball Club performed to
+enthusiastic applause. Dick had sought to arrange
+a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no
+team that could or would play them, which was a
+matter of regret since Clearfield needed harder practice
+than it could get without an opponent. Rutter’s
+Point, which had been playing two games a week
+steadily, was to meet Logan on Wednesday at the
+Point.</p>
+
+<p>“I wish we had got them,” said Dick. “They’d give
+us just about the sort of a game we need.”</p>
+
+<p>“Maybe,” suggested Jack Tappen, “they’d swap
+dates with us if we asked them. They won’t get any
+money at the Point, you know.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, they will,” piped up Harold, who had come
+over to watch practice at Dick’s invitation. “They
+pass a hat around and sometimes get ten or twelve
+dollars.”</p>
+
+<p>“Anyway, I don’t care to do a thing like that,” said
+Dick. “It wouldn’t be exactly square, I guess.”</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll tell you what!” exclaimed Harold.</p>
+
+<p>“Go ahead,” said Jack. “You’re full of information,
+kid.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well,” said Harold, pausing long enough to regard
+Jack with a look of disdain, “why don’t you
+play them in the morning?”</p>
+
+<p>“By jove!” said Lanny.</p>
+
+<p>“‘Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!’”
+murmured Jack. “Kid, you’re all right!”</p>
+
+<p>“We might,” pondered Dick. “They’re coming
+over anyway, and I dare say they’d just as lief come
+in the morning as later. I’ll get hold of that captain
+of theirs this evening and see what he says.”</p>
+
+<p>“Tell ’em we’ll pay their fares both ways,” suggested
+Will Scott.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure thing; and buy them a lunch,” agreed Way.</p>
+
+<p>“They’ll do it,” said Gordon. “Make the game
+at ten-thirty, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Better say eleven. They could hardly get over
+here before half-past ten. Well, I’ll get after them
+as soon as I get home. Harold, you are a youth of
+ideas!”</p>
+
+<p>And Harold smiled proudly.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c22'>CHAPTER XXII<br/>GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS</h2>
+
+<p>That was just about the busiest week for
+Dick that he ever remembered spending. In
+the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter
+to be seen and Mr. Potter’s newest schemes to be
+considered. And, after that, for nearly three hours,
+he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter’s
+room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley
+slaves. All the hard work wasn’t the younger boy’s,
+either, for Dick had to do a lot of studying in order
+to maintain with dignity his rôle of teacher. It would
+never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him
+napping! The younger boy’s capacity for study was
+a revelation to Dick, and his progress a source of
+great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week
+Dick could, and did, assure himself that the battle
+was won! That unless Harold had an almost total
+lapse of memory when he was put through examinations
+he could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course
+cramming is not the best means of learning, and much
+of what Harold learned that summer he was bound
+to forget later, but Dick hoped that the forgetting
+would not come until he had passed examinations.
+Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and relief when
+Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded
+in what had seemed not many weeks ago an
+impossible task, and her gratitude, or the expression
+of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.</p>
+
+<p>After he returned from the Point each day just in
+time for dinner at one o’clock Dick had two hours
+to himself. Or he had unless the indefatigable Mr.
+Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce
+progress or to present a problem to be solved. At
+four there was practice at the field. In the evenings
+Dick very often had to go over the next day’s lessons,
+a task more often than not interrupted by the
+visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all
+three. Tuesday evening not only that trio but Morris
+Brent as well descended upon him. Morris had at
+last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost
+imperceptible limp. The doctor assured him that
+the limp would leave him in a week or so, and Morris,
+an ardent football enthusiast, was already talking punts
+and drop-kicks.</p>
+
+<p>Since Logan had readily consented to play a game
+with Clearfield at eleven o’clock the next morning,
+and since Dick’s services would be needed at the field,
+the usual morning lesson at the Point had been postponed
+until Wednesday evening. Dick hadn’t the
+heart to ask Harold to give up seeing Logan and Rutter’s
+Point play in the afternoon. And so when the
+visitors announced their presence that evening by a
+series of loud whistles from the gate Dick closed his
+books regretfully, knowing that he would have to
+sit up very late after his callers had gone.</p>
+
+<p>They sat out on the porch and talked of many things
+while the crickets and katydids chirped and fiddled in
+the darkness. It had been decided that Tom was to
+pitch only three innings of the morning’s game and
+that Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep
+Tom fresh for the big game on Saturday. To equalize
+matters, Logan was to pitch her third baseman
+against Clearfield so that she might save her regular
+box artist for the afternoon contest. They discussed
+this and other features of the morrow’s battle, and
+then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted
+to the Saturday’s event. Fudge was filled with
+excitement these days and stuttered like an
+empty soda fountain whenever the subject was
+broached.</p>
+
+<p>“Jordan and Fillmore’s window is f-f-f-full of flags
+and p-p-pennants,” announced Fudge. “It looks s-s-s-swell!”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s sort of one-sided, though,” said Lanny. “They
+ought to put up some Point flags too.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t suppose there are any,” answered Gordon.
+“They haven’t any regular color over there, have
+they?”</p>
+
+<p>“Sure; blue and yellow. It’s a funny combination,
+but some of the girls out at the Point have made some
+flags and they say they look mighty well.”</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Potter told me to-day,” remarked Dick, “that
+he’s hired four kids to sell flags at the field. He got
+Jordan and Fillmore to make up two hundred of them
+for him. He can certainly think of more things to
+do!”</p>
+
+<p>“Those are probably the flags they have in their
+window,” suggested Lanny. “What are they like,
+Fudge?”</p>
+
+<p>“J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have
+just a C instead of C. H. S. on them. They’re s-s-swell!”</p>
+
+<p>“You told us that before,” said Gordon. “I guess
+Potter will be stuck with about a hundred and fifty of
+his two hundred.”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t believe he will. Say, why didn’t we think
+of doing that, fellows? We might have made a lot
+of money.” And Lanny looked almost accusingly at
+Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t see that we need any more money,”
+replied the manager. “We’ll have so much as it is that
+we’ll have to open a bank account. I’m scared to
+death to have it in the house.”</p>
+
+<p>“How much have we got now?” asked Lanny.</p>
+
+<p>“Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell
+you my scheme for using it, Lanny?”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes,” was the unenthusiastic reply. “But I don’t
+believe<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s a dandy scheme,” interrupted Gordon quickly.
+“We—we’ll talk it over some day, after this game’s
+over with. No use trying to think of anything else
+right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile
+book any?”</p>
+
+<p>“No, I haven’t had a minute’s time. No hurry, is
+there? I’ve about decided to wait another month or
+so and get one of the next year’s models. I’ve already
+got almost two dollars laid by toward it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, don’t buy a cheap car,” laughed Lanny. “Get—get
+one like Morris’s.”</p>
+
+<p>The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by
+Morris. “Yes, but don’t break a leg with it,” he exclaimed.
+Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed
+loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness
+of the porch with a puzzled look on his face.
+He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a kick at
+Lanny’s shin and, judging from Lanny’s pained contortions
+immediately afterward, Dick fancied that
+Gordon’s aim had been true. For over a week now
+Dick had been aware that some project was under
+way by the others that he was purposely excluded
+from. What it was he couldn’t imagine, but that it
+had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More
+than once he had seen warning glances sent from one
+fellow to another and quite often a remark had been
+cut short at his approach. That the mystery concerned
+him particularly Dick did not suspect,
+however. And just now he had too many things
+on his mind to allow of much consideration
+of it.</p>
+
+<p>“You really ought to read that book, though,” said
+Gordon. “Oughtn’t he, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, “You
+really ought, Dick!” and Lanny murmured something
+about it being well to know such things.</p>
+
+<p>“Look here,” exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half
+in earnest, “if you fellows don’t quit nagging me to
+read that book I’ll—I’ll pitch it out the window! What
+the dickens do I want to learn about running an automobile
+for? Are you fellows dippy?”</p>
+
+<p>There was complete silence until Lanny said: “You
+never can tell, Dick, when you might be called on to—to
+profit by the—er<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, certainly,” responded Dick with sarcasm.
+“Most any old day I might get the offer of a
+chauffeur’s job! Or maybe you fellows are going to save
+up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!”</p>
+
+<p>“Ha, ha!” said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled.
+Gordon had a fit of coughing. Morris became intensely
+interested in the stars seen through the vines.</p>
+
+<p>“You’d make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick,” laughed
+Gordon finally.</p>
+
+<p>“Why?”</p>
+
+<p>“Why—er—just because,” replied Gordon flatly.
+“Say, I’ve got to be going home, fellows. You coming
+my way?”</p>
+
+<p>The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm
+for departure, and after they had clicked
+the little gate behind them Dick could hear them talking
+in low and excited tones as they passed up the
+street. He shook his head as he moved his crutches
+toward the doorway.</p>
+
+<p>“Either they’re all crazy,” he murmured, “or they’re
+trying to work some sort of a game on me. I wonder
+what it is.”</p>
+
+<p>But he didn’t wonder long, for the morrow’s lessons
+awaited him upstairs and when he had finished
+with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder
+about anything.</p>
+
+<p>Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the
+next forenoon. The visitors arrived nearly twenty
+minutes late and the game dragged. There was a
+lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to
+make more errors than its opponent. Curtis Wayland
+and the rival pitcher were pretty evenly matched and
+it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her endeavors,
+failed to tally as many errors as Logan that
+the home team stood three runs ahead when the contest
+was called to allow the visitors to snatch some
+dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn’t
+derive much satisfaction from that game, and was
+inclined to be downcast until, just before supper time,
+Harold telephoned over to him that the Point team
+had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered
+up and saw things more brightly. And then, scarcely
+two minutes later, came Gordon with his news.</p>
+
+<p>“We’ve got the field, Dick!” he cried from the sidewalk
+even before he reached the gate. “Mr. Brent
+is going to give it to the school! It isn’t going to be
+cut up!”</p>
+
+<p>“Give it to the school!” echoed Dick amazedly.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes! Isn’t that fine and dandy?” Gordon
+sprawled into a chair on the porch and fanned himself
+vigorously with his straw hat. “He’s having a
+deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes
+back it will be ours. Morris is giving it.”</p>
+
+<p>“Morris! How can he give it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris’s
+name. It’s to be called Brent Field. And he almost
+as much as promised to build us a big new grandstand
+some day! Isn’t he—isn’t he a corker?”</p>
+
+<p>“But—but what—how<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon laughed excitedly. “I guess it was seeing us
+play the other day that did it. He said he guessed
+as we got so much enjoyment out of the field we ought
+to have it. He didn’t get home until nearly half-past
+four and I called at the office three times before
+I found him. I thought the first time that I’d sneak
+off and not come back. But I’m glad I did, though. I
+was scared to death when I went in. But he was as
+nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball
+and football and the Athletic Committee and the
+field we talked of getting, and then—then—well, then
+he asked me if I thought the fellows would like to
+keep the field. And I said of course they would. And
+then he said he had decided to make the school a present
+of it if—if I wanted him to.”</p>
+
+<p>“If you wanted him to!” exclaimed his hearer.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon nodded. “You know he told me the time
+I—the time I was with Morris when he got hurt that
+if I wanted anything I was to ask him for it. So the
+other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field
+I—I sort of reminded him of what he had said and
+told him I’d like him to let us use the field that day.
+I didn’t tell you, but that was how we got it. Well,
+to-day he said I hadn’t made the most of my
+opportunity, or something like that. He said I should have
+asked for the field outright if I wanted it. ‘Why didn’t
+you?’ he asked. Gee, I didn’t know what to say, so I
+just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said
+how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did
+for Morris that day and that if I’d asked him then
+for the field he’d have given it to me; I mean to the
+school. So I said, ‘Yes, sir, if you please,’ and he
+laughed and said: ‘All right, Merrick. I’ll have the
+deed made out to-morrow. But I want you to understand
+that it is Morris who is giving the field and
+not me. He’s one of you and the gift will come better
+from him.’ And then he shook hands with me and
+walked ’way out to the stairs with me! And—and
+say, Dick, isn’t it <i>great</i>?”</p>
+
+<h2 id='c23'>CHAPTER XXIII<br/>MR. BRENT THROWS A BALL</h2>
+
+<p>If that Saturday had been manufactured to Mr.
+Potter’s order it couldn’t have been finer. There
+was a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud
+bigger than a handkerchief to be seen. A westerly
+breeze, bearing the first hint of Autumn, cooled the
+ardor of the sun. Clearfield had a gala look as soon
+as the shades at the store windows were drawn in
+the morning. Touches of purple appeared everywhere.
+By ten o’clock the downtown streets began to show
+the incursion of visitors from the neighboring villages
+and even from the country and the stores reaped
+a small harvest. At noon Common Street in the vicinity
+of the field was well lined with sidewalk vendors
+of peanuts and popcorn, lemonade and soft drinks,
+while in a vacant lot near-by a hustling gentleman with
+a blue-black mustache and a yellow corduroy coat had
+set up a merry-go-round whose strident organ ground
+out a repertory of four tunes monotonously from
+forenoon to midnight. Small boys with purple pennants
+bearing white C’s importuned passers to show
+their patriotism at the expense of a quarter of a dollar
+and other small boys flaunted copies of the morning
+<i>Reporter</i>. “Line-up of to-day’s game! Here you
+are! <i>Reporter!</i> Only two cents!”</p>
+
+<p>The reserved seat tickets on sale at Howland’s gave
+out at eleven o’clock, and at twelve, after a hasty conference
+over the telephone with Dick, Mr. Potter had
+a load of lumber and four carpenters at the field
+erecting sixty extra seats.</p>
+
+<p>At one, even before the last nail had been driven,
+the drug store reported that they had again sold out.
+“Sell fifty more,” telephoned Mr. Potter, “and mark
+them ‘Bench!’” Then he hurried to Odd Fellows’
+Hall with a moving-van and transferred ten settees
+from there to the ball grounds and placed them in
+a double row all along the third base line. After
+that he threw up his hands.</p>
+
+<p>Shortly before noon a blue runabout, with its brass
+glistening radiantly and its newly varnished surface
+reflecting back the sunlight, stopped in front of the
+carriage gate at the field and honked its horn. After
+which Gordon, who rode beside the operator, jumped
+to the ground, climbed the fence and unbarred the
+gates from inside. Then Morris drove in, Gordon
+dropped the bar back in place and climbed into the
+car again and the blue runabout ambled across the
+white foul line and stopped a few feet from the home
+plate, with its glistening radiator pointed at the grandstand.</p>
+
+<p>“That’s my last ride in her,” said Morris regretfully
+as he got out.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Gordon. “He may give
+you a lift some time.”</p>
+
+<p>Morris smiled. “I meant the last time I’d run her,”
+he amended. “Gee, but I kind of hate to give her up,
+Gordon.”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s a nice little car,” replied the other, “even if
+she did try to break your neck for you. And she
+certainly looks dandy. And she runs as well as ever,
+doesn’t she?”</p>
+
+<p>“Better, it seems to me. I suppose she’s getting the
+stiffness out of her. Well, we’d better hike along
+to dinner. You’re sure your mother won’t mind having
+me, Gordon?”</p>
+
+<p>“She expects you. I telephoned I was bringing you.
+Come on.”</p>
+
+<p>It was long before two o’clock when the crowd began
+moving toward the field. Stewart, the liveryman,
+ran carriages from the station to the entrance and
+did a good business. At a few minutes before two
+Gordon and Dick and Lanny arrived. Mr. Potter was
+already on hand, instructing the two boys who were
+acting as ushers and keeping an eye on the amateur
+ticket seller at the gate. Tim Turner stood inside
+and took the tickets, dropping them into a tin box
+and looking as professional as you please. Dick’s
+gaze found the automobile the instant he was inside
+and he stopped short and stared at it. And no wonder,
+for a blue runabout placed imposingly in the center
+of a baseball diamond is about as incongruous a
+sight as one often sees.</p>
+
+<p>“Wh-what the dickens!” gasped Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, that?” said Gordon. “That’s the car that
+Morris just sold. Looks pretty well, doesn’t it? Come
+on in the dressing-room.”</p>
+
+<p>“But what’s it doing there?” asked Dick. “Whose
+is it?”</p>
+
+<p>“I suppose someone left it there. Gee, Dick, look
+at the crowd here already! We’ll have to have groundrules
+if they keep coming!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, I guess so. But—that car! It can’t stand
+there, Gordie!”</p>
+
+<p>“Of course not. It’ll be out of the way by the time
+we’re ready to practice, I dare say. There’s Tom.
+Come on. We’d better get changed. It must be almost
+two.”</p>
+
+<p>Dick followed them into the dressing-room without
+further remarks, but it was plain to be seen that
+the incident of the misplaced automobile was
+occupying his thoughts. Most of the team had arrived and
+in another moment Dick found enough to attend to
+and talk about without further bothering his head
+with the blue runabout. The Point team came in a
+few minutes later and then there was a fine confusion
+and noise in there. Everyone was in the best of
+spirits and there was no sign of animosity between
+the opponents. One might have thought, were it not
+for the difference in costumes, that the two dozen or
+so fellows were team-mates rather than rivals. It was
+the first time that most of the Clearfield fellows had
+seen the Rutter’s Point players in their new togs, and
+they had to acknowledge that the white suits and blue-and-yellow-striped
+stockings were very attractive.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Harold was there, score-book under arm,
+following Dick around closely. And Morris, too, in
+his capacity of honorary member of the visiting nine.
+Probably he would have been welcome in any case, for
+to-day was to witness the formal transfer of the field,
+in Morris’s name, from Mr. Brent to the High School.
+Mr. Grayson, who had arrived home the day before,
+was to attend and Morris was to deliver the deed to
+him, as a sort of added attraction. Morris, however,
+didn’t appear oppressed by his importance, a fact
+which his companions were quick to notice and approve.</p>
+
+<p>At five minutes past the two teams went out to the
+diamond, and as they appeared, the band, massed fourteen
+strong in front of the grandstand, broke into the
+triumphal strains of “See the Conquering Hero
+Comes.” By that time the stand was filled to overflowing,
+the extra seats were well occupied and the
+settees sprinkled, while around the diamond what
+looked to the startled gaze of the players to be a vast
+assemblage sat or stood.</p>
+
+<p>“Jumpin’ Jupiter!” muttered Fudge, his eyes very
+big and round. “S-s-s-say, Jack, I won’t b-b-b-be able
+to c-c-catch a thing!”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess we’ll all have stage-fright,” replied Jack
+Tappen, with a rather nervous laugh. “Who would
+have thought all this crowd would have come? And
+look at the gate! They’re still coming, Fudge!”</p>
+
+<p>“G-g-guess I’ll s-s-s-sneak home,” said Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>Dick was frankly puzzled. Instead of trotting into
+the field to begin practice, his charges were lounging
+over toward the plate, and with them went the Point
+team. Then Dick’s eyes fell on that blue runabout
+again, and he frowned and followed the players, who
+by this time had gathered about it. Harold, who
+never allowed Dick to get more than six feet away
+from him, went, too.</p>
+
+<p>“Someone will have to get that car out of here,”
+announced Dick impatiently. “Whose is it, anyway?”</p>
+
+<p>As the band, which had been blaring forth a
+twostep, stopped suddenly at a signal from Gordon, just
+in the middle of Dick’s pronouncement, he finished it
+in a voice which, owing to the silence, was audible
+halfway to the outfield. A ripple of amusement came
+from the nearer seats. Dick, embarrassed by events
+and by an impending something that he sensed, looked
+blankly about the grinning faces.</p>
+
+<p>“Wh-what’s the matter?” he faltered, appealing to
+Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon cleared his throat and took a step forward.
+The rest of the players shuffled into the semblance of a
+half-circle behind him and about the blue car. The
+audience, none of them in the secret but all suspecting
+interesting developments, grew very still.</p>
+
+<p>“Dick,” began Gordon, very red of countenance
+and nervous of manner, “we—that is<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Go to it, Gordie,” murmured Lanny encouragingly.
+Gordon took a deep breath and another start:</p>
+
+<p>“The Clearfield Baseball Club, in recognition of
+your services as manager and—and in token of its
+esteem and<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Respect and esteem,” prompted Lanny, <i>sotto voce</i>.</p>
+
+<p><span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>“Respect and esteem,” corrected Gordon, who
+had prepared his speech with much care and had now
+pretty well forgotten it, “desires to present to you this
+automobile, in the hope—er—in the hope<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“That it will provide<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>That it will provide both comfort and pleasure.
+It is with much—it is with much<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon looked imploringly at Lanny, but Lanny’s
+gaze was fixed blankly on space. He, too, had forgotten
+the lines! Fudge gave way to his nervousness
+and giggled. Gordon waved his hand toward the
+car. “And we hope you’ll like it,” he ended breathlessly.</p>
+
+<p>There was an instant’s silence, and then came a joyous
+screech from Harold. That was the signal for
+much hand-clapping and other evidences of applause
+from the spectators who, although Gordon’s speech
+had not been audible to them, had by this time gathered
+that someone was being presented with the natty
+blue automobile. Dick, rather white of face, smiled.</p>
+
+<p>“I—I<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” he began. Then he faltered. When he
+went on his voice was husky. “Thank you, fellows,”
+he said. “I don’t see why you did it, but—but I appreciate
+it more than I can say. And—I can’t make
+a speech, so I’ll just say thank you and—you’ll have
+to understand that it means a lot more than I can put
+in words!”</p>
+
+<p>Then they cheered quite madly, being heartily glad
+to be over with the embarrassment, and flocked around
+him and shook hands just as though they hadn’t seen
+him for months!</p>
+
+<p>“‘It is with much pride that we offer this small
+token,’” said Lanny explosively in Gordon’s ear.
+Gordon laughed derisively.</p>
+
+<p>“What’s the good now?” he demanded. “Why
+didn’t you say that two minutes ago? You’re a fine
+one to help a fellow!”</p>
+
+<p>“Why didn’t you remember it yourself?” asked
+Lanny, in an injured voice. “Gee! You wrote it,
+didn’t you?”</p>
+
+<p>Morris jumped into the driver’s seat of the car and
+Dick, impelled by friendly hands, climbed in beside
+him. Will Scott spun the crank, the engine purred,
+and, to the cheers and laughter of the fellows and
+the enthusiastic applause of the spectators, the blue
+runabout chugged around the field and back into an
+angle of the grandstand, while the band played loudly.</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll show you how to run it in two days, Dick,”
+Morris said, as they circled the diamond. “You’ll
+find it’s as easy as anything you ever did.”</p>
+
+<p>“Did you know about it?” asked Dick curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Sure. It was Gordon’s scheme; but he told me
+what he wanted to do and dad and I were strong
+for it.”</p>
+
+<p>“But—but where’d they get the money?” asked
+Dick.</p>
+
+<p>“They haven’t got it yet,” chuckled Morris. “You
+have it!”</p>
+
+<p>“I have<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>Oh, the baseball money!”</p>
+
+<p>“Surest think you know, Dick!”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh!” Dick gave a sigh of relief. “I was afraid
+they’d paid for it out of their pockets or—or somehow.
+I—I knew for two or three weeks that they
+were up to something, but I never suspected this.
+Say, doesn’t it just get there!”</p>
+
+<p>“She’s a fine little car,” agreed Morris proudly, as
+he brought it to a stop behind the extra seats. “And
+I’ll just bet you’ll be crazy about her, Dick, in a
+week!”</p>
+
+<p>“I guess I’m sort of crazy about her now,” murmured
+Dick.</p>
+
+<p>There was still another ceremony to be gone through
+with; in fact, two. The first was performed a minute
+later when Morris, taking a folded sheet of paper
+from his pocket, walked across to the front of the
+grandstand, accompanied by the players, and with a
+neat but brief speech formally presented the deed of
+the athletic field to Mr. Grayson. The principal, however,
+wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to indulge
+in eloquence, and his speech of thanks went on for
+quite five minutes. It was a very good speech, too,
+but few heard it, for the spectators out of ear-shot
+were clamoring for the game to begin. When he had
+finished and bowed and taken his seat again, there
+was more applause, and the bass drum boomed ecstatically
+and Gordon led three cheers for Mr. Brent, and
+at last the home team trotted on to the diamond and
+the visitors began passing and warming up at one
+side.</p>
+
+<p>By that time it was nearly the hour set for the
+game to begin, and almost every available spot on the
+field was occupied by spectators. Four of Clearfield’s
+modest police force were on duty in the outfield, patrolling
+back and forth, restraining the advance of the
+crowds which stretched along the continuations of the
+foul lines.</p>
+
+<p>On the “press stand,” a kitchen table and two
+straight-backed chairs at the end of the home team’s
+bench, stood the silver trophy on its ebony stand.
+Around the base was twined the purple silk pennant
+with the white “C.” At the “press stand” sat Mr.
+Potter, his straw hat tilted back on his head, a pile of
+yellow copy paper in front of him and a big cigar
+tucked in the corner of his mouth. Mr. Potter, looking
+proudly about the crowded field, was happy. Apparently
+all the pennants had been purchased, for
+they waved on all sides, and flashes of purple glowed
+everywhere in the sunlight; everywhere, that is to say,
+except in one small section of the main stand, where
+the Rutter’s Point contingent, some fifty strong, waved
+blue-and-yellow flags and cheered for their heroes.</p>
+
+<p>Dick, leaning on his crutches near first base, allowed
+his gaze to wander a minute from the work of
+his charges toward the crowded seats. There were his
+mother and Grace up there, and, farther along, Mr.
+and Mrs. Brent and Louise—and Morris just returning
+to his place beside them. Strangely enough, Louise
+happened to be looking just as Dick glanced her way,
+and nodded and waved. Dick took off his hat in answer.
+A second later he was bowing again, for Mrs.
+Townsend was waving her blue-and-yellow banner
+toward him.</p>
+
+<p>Then, presently, the home team yielded the diamond
+to the visitors, and Dick went back to the bench with
+them. Harold was sharpening his pencils as Dick
+took his place beside him.</p>
+
+<p>“Dick,” he said, in a low voice, “I hope you win.”</p>
+
+<p>“Thanks, Harold! That’s treachery, isn’t it,
+though?”</p>
+
+<p>Harold frowned and shook his head. “Can’t help
+it,” he muttered. “I do, anyway.”</p>
+
+<p>The umpires were Mr. Cochran, of the Y.M.C.A.,
+chosen by Clearfield, and Mr. Vokes, who had officiated
+at the first game between the two teams, the
+Point’s selection. The latter gentleman was on bases
+and Mr. Cochran umpired at the plate. At twenty
+minutes to three Clearfield trotted into the field to
+the cheers of the audience, and Gordon, taking a nice
+new ball from Mr. Cochran, ascended the stand to
+where Mr. Brent sat.</p>
+
+<p>“Mr. Brent,” said Gordon, “we’d like very much to
+have you throw out the ball to us, sir, if you don’t
+mind.”</p>
+
+<p>“Throw out the ball!” exclaimed Mr. Brent. “How—how
+do I do it?”</p>
+
+<p>“Just stand up, sir, and toss it to Tom Haley, down
+there.”</p>
+
+<p>Mr. Brent looked doubtful, but Morris and Louise
+urged him on, and finally he got to his feet, measured
+the distance anxiously, clutched the ball with a death-like
+grip, and hurled it toward Tom. It went a yard
+over his head, and was fielded by Harry Bryan near
+second! But that didn’t matter! Everyone cheered
+just as hard!</p>
+
+<h2 id='c24'>CHAPTER XXIV<br/>DICK SMILES</h2>
+
+<div class="centered">
+<table style='' summary=''>
+<tr><td style='padding-right:2em;'>CLEARFIELD</td><td>RUTTER’S POINT</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Bryan, 2b.</td><td>Billings, 3b.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Scott, 3b.</td><td>Townsend, 1b.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Merrick, 1b.</td><td>Chase, ss.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Wayland, l. f.</td><td>House, c. f.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Tappen, r. f.</td><td>Leary, 2b.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>White, c.</td><td>Northrop, r. f.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Robey, ss.</td><td>Jensen, l. f.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Haley, p.</td><td>Houghton, c.</td></tr>
+<tr><td>Shaw, c. f.</td><td>Mason, p.</td></tr>
+</table>
+</div>
+
+<p>Gordon took his position off first base,
+thumped fist into glove, and called cheerfully
+across to Tom Haley:</p>
+
+<p>“First man, Tom! Let’s have him!”</p>
+
+<p>But Gordon wasn’t nearly as cool and collected as
+he tried to seem. He was conscious of the crowd,
+and especially of the throng that stretched four and
+five deep along the base line but a half dozen yards
+away. The noise, too, was disconcerting. He didn’t
+mind the bellowing of Jim House back of first, nor
+the answering shrieks of Pink Northrop behind third;
+but the steady hum and stir of the crowd gave him
+what was very much like stage fright. He almost
+hoped that the first hit would not come into his territory,
+for he was virtually sure that he would misplay
+it. But Gordon wasn’t the only one suffering from
+nervous embarrassment. Tom was as wild as a hawk,
+and if the batsmen had not been up in the air as well
+Rutter’s Point might have won the game then and
+there!</p>
+
+<p>Dick, none too self-possessed himself, in spite of the
+fact that on the bench he was practically out of the
+public gaze, saw that in the outfield Way, Jack, and
+Fudge were each moving restlessly about, and he mentally
+hoped that there would be no long flies for a few
+minutes! The only one of the home team who seemed
+absolutely self-possessed and unconcerned was Lanny.
+Lanny, behind his mask and protector, gave his signals
+calmly, and called to Tom coolly and encouragingly,
+holding his hands over the center of the plate
+and inviting Tom to “put it right here!” And Tom
+tried his best to follow signals, and failed lamentably.</p>
+
+<p>Caspar Billings went to base on balls, and Gordon
+took the bag. Tom tried one throw across, and
+Gordon, to his relief, caught the ball. While Tom had
+been in the act of swinging around and stepping out,
+Gordon had been sure that the ball would get by him.
+Caspar was playing it safe, however, and after Gordon
+threw the sphere back to Tom the latter gave his
+attention to the next batsman, Loring Townsend.
+Loring, with one strike and two balls against him,
+reached for a low one and sent it up in the air to Pete
+Robey. Pete caught it, juggled it, dropped it, and
+then sped it to second. Caspar, who had stopped
+halfway down the base line, turned back to the bench.</p>
+
+<p>With one out, Tom settled down a little. Loring
+Townsend stole on the second delivery and beat out
+the throw. The Point clamored for a hit, but the best
+Gil Chase could do was to trickle a slow bunt to Tom,
+who threw out the runner at first.</p>
+
+<p>“Two gone!” called Gordon. “Let him hit, Tom!”</p>
+
+<p>But Tom did the hitting himself, bumping Jim
+House on the elbow with his first ball. Jim trotted to
+first, and Leary came to bat. Leary ought to have
+been easy, but he landed on the very first offering and
+sent a fly into short left field. Way started with the
+ball and got it after a hard run, and the inning was
+over.</p>
+
+<p>“We got out of that mighty luckily,” muttered Gordon,
+as he took his seat beside Dick. “I guess we’ve
+all got nerves.”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, so have the others,” replied Dick. “Try to
+get rid of yours first, Gordie.”</p>
+
+<p>Harry Bryan waited and got his base. Will Scott,
+instructed to bunt and sacrifice, fouled two attempts,
+and finally went out on strikes. Gordon brought the
+stands to their feet by a bunt along first-base line which
+started well but eventually rolled into foul territory
+under the anxious gaze of Mason and Townsend.
+Then came a swipe that missed the ball by inches,
+then two balls, and last, with two and two, a straight
+one that Gordon liked the looks of. He found it, all
+right, but it dropped into center-fielder’s hands, and,
+with two down, Bryan was still anchored on first. A
+minute later he tried a steal, and was caught a yard
+away.</p>
+
+<p>In the second Tom pitched better, and Northrop
+and Jensen fanned. Houghton, the Point catcher, got
+a scratch hit, and reached the first bag but died there
+when Mason struck out.</p>
+
+<p>Clearfield did no better in her half, Wayland, Tappen,
+and Lanny White going out in order, and only
+Jack getting a rap at the ball.</p>
+
+<p>It was not until the fourth inning that things began
+to happen. Leary started the Point’s half with a
+sharp tap between Pete and Harry that put him
+safely on first. Then, with the Point coachers yelling
+like mad and dancing like a couple of dervishes, Tom
+passed Pink Northrop. With the three tail-enders
+coming up there seemed no cause for alarm. But Jensen
+laid down a nice bunt right in front of the plate,
+and Lanny, tossing aside his mask, picked it up and
+hurled it to third. Unfortunately, Will Scott had
+started in toward the plate, and the ball got to third
+ahead of him. By the time Way had recovered it,
+Leary had scored, Northrop was on second, and Jensen
+on first. The Pointers went wild with delight, and the
+blue-and-yellow flags waved in the grandstand.
+Houghton, aching for a hit, was over-anxious, and
+fell a victim to the wiles of Lanny and Tom, and
+there was one out. Pitcher Mason was no more
+of a batsman than the average twirler, and yet he
+managed to make it two and three before he
+finally put an end to the suspense and the inning
+by hitting to Harry Bryan, who tagged Jensen as
+he went past and then threw to Gordon, completing
+the double.</p>
+
+<p>For the next two innings it looked very much as
+though that one run would be enough to win the
+game, for Mason settled down and pitched air-tight
+ball and added four more strike-outs to his credit.
+Tom Haley was less spectacular, and yet got by without
+yielding a hit. He passed two batters and in the
+sixth Jensen got as far as third when Pete Robey fumbled
+Houghton’s liner. But there were no runs scored,
+and at the beginning of the seventh the score still
+stood 1 to 0 in the visitors’ favor, and Clearfield already
+tasted defeat. But the audience shouted that
+here was the “lucky seventh,” and those fortunate to
+have seats stood up and stretched cramped limbs, and
+everyone shouted.</p>
+
+<p>In the first half of the seventh the clouds began to
+gather again over Clearfield’s head. Caspar Billings,
+first man up, beat out a weak hit and took second when
+Townsend sacrificed, Scott to Merrick. A moment
+later he reached third when Chase flied out to right
+field. Then House provided a half dozen attacks of
+heart disease when, with three balls and two strikes
+on him, he knocked fouls to nearly every point of the
+compass in his endeavor to secure a safe hit and score
+Caspar. But in the end Tom tricked him into a high
+fly that settled comfortably into Pete Robey’s glove,
+and again the sky cleared.</p>
+
+<p>“If those boys don’t win a run this time,” said Mr.
+Brent, almost crossly, “I’ll be sorry I gave them the
+field.”</p>
+
+<p>“You mean, dad, you’ll be sorry <i>I</i> gave them the
+field,” corrected Morris, with a grin. Mr. Brent
+grunted.</p>
+
+<p>“Why don’t they bat the ball?” he demanded.
+“Every time one of them gets on a base, the others
+leave him there. What they ought to do is to take a
+good bang at it and send it out there beyond those
+fellows.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s what they’re trying to do, papa,” replied
+Louise, “but the Point pitcher won’t let them. He’s
+a wonderful pitcher, isn’t he, Morris?”</p>
+
+<p>“Pretty fair. He’ll get his before the game’s over,
+though. See if he doesn’t.”</p>
+
+<p>“Get his what?” asked his father curiously.</p>
+
+<p>“Get what’s coming to him,” laughed Morris. “I
+mean the Clearfield chaps will bat him. He can’t keep
+this pace up much longer. I wouldn’t be surprised if
+we got after him this inning.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I wish we might!” sighed Louise. “I wish
+they’d just—just <i>slam</i> him!”</p>
+
+<p>“My dear!” murmured Mrs. Brent. “That doesn’t
+sound very nice.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s all right, mama; it’s just baseball talk.”</p>
+
+<p>“Even so, dear, I’m not certain,” replied her mother,
+“that<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>But Louise didn’t hear the rest, for she was waving
+her purple pennant wildly and shrieking in a manner
+that Mrs. Brent must have disapproved of thoroughly.
+But she had a good excuse. Even Mr. Jonathan Brent
+was tapping his cane and breathing hard, while Morris
+was frankly on his feet, yelling at the top of his
+lungs.</p>
+
+<p>Jack, the first Clearfield batsman, had landed on the
+second ball pitched, and now it was rolling along the
+grass between right fielder and center, and Jack was
+traveling fast for second base. He drew up there,
+breathless but happy. From the stands and from the
+crowds along the edges of the diamond came shouts
+and cheers. At last, Clearfield was to tie the score!</p>
+
+<p>And yet even with a runner on second and only a
+hit necessary to bring in a tally, it began to look
+as if once more the hopes of Clearfield’s supporters
+were doomed. Lanny, determined and cool, after
+waiting until he had three balls to his credit and no
+strikes, tried to drop out of the way of a close one,
+only to have it hit his bat and roll fair! Mason fielded
+it to first, and there was one out. The incessant shouting
+from the spectators died away and Gordon, coaching
+at first, swung on his heel and kicked viciously at
+a pebble to relieve his feelings. Then, with Pete
+Robey up, there came an exchange of signals, and
+Jack started for third as the ball left Mason’s hand
+for the second time. It was an unexpected play, and
+it succeeded. Pete swung and missed and Houghton
+side-stepped and hurled to third. But Jack, who was
+a fast youth on his feet, was diving head-first for the
+bag when the ball arrived, and Mr. Vokes, trotting
+past, spread his hands. Clearfield applauded wildly.</p>
+
+<p>With a man on third, Rutter’s Point considered discretion
+the better part of valor, and Mason pitched
+out three times to Pete and Pete walked to first, while
+the home team’s supporters jeered and shouted disparaging
+remarks to Mason. A minute later Pete went
+to second unchallenged. Tom Haley was up, and
+Houghton had argued that Tom could be easily disposed
+of. And it seemed that he could. Tom made
+desperate swings at the first two deliveries, and you
+could have heard the sighs of despair that came from
+the anxious watchers on the seats. Then, heeding the
+coachers’ voices at last, Tom got his eye on the ball
+and watched idly while Mason sped two wide ones
+past him. Then he tried again and a foul resulted,
+Houghton getting his hands on it at the edge of the
+stand but dropping it. A third ball narrowly escaped
+being a strike, and Gordon cried: “That’s waiting,
+Tom! Let him walk you; he’ll do it in a minute!”</p>
+
+<p>And he would have, for the next delivery was inches
+wide of the outer corner of the plate, but Tom reached
+out eagerly, got that ball on the tip of his bat and sent
+it arching up in a low fly that fell three feet inside the
+first-base foul line and just out of the reach of the
+three fielders who raced after it! In trotted Jack,
+scoring the tying run, and in sped Pete Robey, close
+on his heels, while Clearfield went mad with delight
+and the purple pennants waved on high. Pete beat
+the throw to the plate by inches, but Tom, trying to
+reach second on the throw-in, was less fortunate and
+fell victim to a fine heave from Houghton to
+Leary.</p>
+
+<p>Dick motioned Fudge to him. “We want another
+run, Fudge,” he said softly. “Mason will be up
+in the air now. Make him think you’re anxious to
+hit. Move up in the box and swing your bat; try to
+look nervous<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t have t-t-t-to try,” muttered Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Never mind. Make him think you’ll offer at anything,
+but <i>don’t</i> swing but once. Pick out a wide one
+and swing at it, Fudge, but be careful not to hit it.
+If you work it right, he will pass you sure as shooting!
+Now, go ahead.”</p>
+
+<p>Harold Townsend, so excited that he hadn’t scored a
+thing since Jack’s two-bagger, looked at Dick in open
+admiration. “I guess that’s what they call ‘inside
+baseball,’ isn’t it, Dick?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t know,” was the reply. “It’s what I’d call
+horse-sense. I hope it works, anyhow!”</p>
+
+<p>With two out and the bases empty the scoring
+was apparently over, and the Pointers were doubtless
+already occupying their thoughts with the task before
+them of overcoming that one-run lead when they at
+last returned to their positions.</p>
+
+<p>“Last man, Mel!” called Billy Houghton. “Let’s
+have him!” Then Billy signaled for a straight one.
+But Mason, as Dick had predicted, was a bit flustered.
+The straight one came over too low and was a ball.
+He tried it again, and another ball resulted. Houghton
+returned the sphere with a slow and cautioning
+toss, and then spread his fingers for a curve. The
+curve came, went wide, and Fudge, as nervous as a
+wet hen, made a mighty swing at it, missing it by six
+inches and winning a laugh from the spectators. Then
+he walked to the pitcher’s end of the box and flourished
+his bat, and seemed to be daring Mason to put
+one where he could get it. Houghton signaled for a
+curve once more, for he figured that Fudge was in a
+condition to offer at anything that came. And Mason,
+winding his fingers none too carefully about the ball,
+let drive with it, and was properly surprised when
+Fudge made no offer!</p>
+
+<p>Then Houghton woke up. The score was three
+balls and one strike. He signaled for one over the
+plate, and it came. “Strike!” called Mr. Cochran. On
+the bench Dick watched anxiously. If Fudge could
+get his base, he reasoned, Harry Bryan would be up,
+and, in the present disgruntled state of mind of the
+Point players, errors were likely to result. On the
+mound Mason was shaking his head at Houghton’s
+instructions. He had no doubt that he could put the
+third strike over, but he preferred to make the batter
+fan. Houghton signaled again, Mason wound up, and
+the ball traveled forward. It had a jump on it, if ever
+a ball did, and that jump was Mason’s undoing. Fudge
+never moved as the ball passed him, only turned inquiringly
+toward the umpire. The latter nodded.
+“Take your base,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>Billy Houghton ejaculated an amazed “<i>What?</i>”
+and Mason disgustedly kicked up the dust, but Fudge,
+grinning toward the bench as he passed, trotted to first.
+Rutter’s Point suddenly awakened to the fact that perhaps
+the trouble was not yet over, after all!</p>
+
+<p>Nor was it. Harry Bryan found something to his
+liking, and banged it head-high across the diamond
+toward Billings. Caspar knocked it down, fumbled
+it, and then threw too late to Townsend. Harry was
+safe on first and Fudge on second. Clearfield yelled
+like wild Indians, and the crowd swayed and threatened
+to push on to the field. Then began a panicky
+five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Fudge danced around at second and Bryan at first.
+The coachers shouted and leaped, and the crowd kept
+up an incessant thumping of feet and a steady roar
+of voices. Up in the main stand, Mr. Jonathan Brent
+was hugging his cane and leaning forward from the
+very edge of his seat. Louise had her purple pennant
+twisted into a hard knot, and Morris was talking
+hoarsely to himself or whoever might be listening.
+“Take a good lead, Shaw!” he directed. “Look out,
+Bryan! He almost got you! Here we go, fellows!
+Here we go!” Of course, neither Fudge nor Harry
+heard him, but Morris never thought about that. Morris
+was running that game for himself just then.</p>
+
+<p>Dick whispered a few words to Jack Tappen, and
+Jack sped to first and whispered a few words to Gordon.
+And Gordon turned his head inquiringly toward
+the bench, caught Dick’s emphatic nod, and renewed
+his shouting.</p>
+
+<p>“What did you tell him, Dick?” asked Harold, in a
+low voice.</p>
+
+<p>Dick smiled. “You wait and see, Harold,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>Will Scott was up now, with one ball to his credit.
+Mason had made three attempts to catch Bryan napping
+at first, and now he directed his attention to
+the batsman again. A waister went for a strike, a
+wide one followed and scored the second ball, and
+then Mason wound up once more and shot his arm out.
+And as he did so Fudge leaped away toward third,
+Bryan sped for second, and a cry of “There he goes!”
+went up from the visitors’ bench. Will Scott glued
+his eye to that ball, swung and missed it. Houghton
+made a desperate attempt to cut off the runner at
+third, but failed, and bedlam broke loose. Mr. Potter
+knocked the silver trophy off its base in his excitement,
+and only caught it at the edge of the “press-stand”
+table. Harold kicked his legs in air and tossed his
+score-book up. Mr. Anthony Brent nearly broke his
+walking-stick. Morris challenged everyone within
+hearing to deny that that was the prettiest double steal
+that had ever been pulled off. Louise clapped her
+hands until her palms ached and her white gloves
+threatened to rip. And some six hundred other folks
+did whatever it occurred to them to do, and did it
+just as noisily as they knew how!</p>
+
+<p>Dick Lovering, Manager of the Clearfield Baseball
+Club, only smiled quietly and made little marks in his
+score-book.</p>
+
+<p>A minute later Scott was perched on first base, Mason
+having been totally unable to locate the plate,
+and Gordon faced the pitcher. Bases full, two out, and
+the captain at bat! Well, it was a fine situation, no
+matter what might come of it. The Point infield crept
+toward the plate. Everyone talked loudly to the
+pitcher, as much, perhaps, to tranquilize his own
+nerves as to encourage Mason. Mason, it seemed,
+needed encouragement. He was palpably unstrung,
+and the first ball he pitched proved it, for it was as
+wild as a shooting-star, and if Billy Houghton had
+not leaped sidewise and sprawled on his elbow it would
+have been by him and let in a run. But Billy stopped
+it, and Fudge scuttled back to safety at third.</p>
+
+<p>Mason worked a slow ball over for a strike on the
+next attempt, and that seemed to settle him somewhat.
+Gordon let one go by and found he had judged it
+correctly. Then a foul back of first base made the standing
+two and two. The noise had diminished, and now
+an almost breathless silence enveloped the field. Only
+the voices of the coachers were to be heard.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, come on, Fudge! Take a lead! That’s better!
+Hold it! On your toes, everyone! Look out for a
+passed ball now! Here’s where we score a few!”</p>
+
+<p>“Pick out a good one, Cap! Make him pitch to you!
+Here it is! Here it is!”</p>
+
+<p>But Gordon refused to offer at it, and, “Ball!” announced
+the umpire.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s got to be good, now, Gordie!” yelled Jack.
+“Lean on it! Lean on it! Make it a homer, Cap!”</p>
+
+<p>Mason wound, unwound, sped the ball toward the
+plate, bat and ball met and a sudden swelling pæan of
+joy went up as the spectators leaped to their feet and
+craned their necks. But Gordon, speeding down the
+first-base line, and the other runners, spurning the dust
+between bags, slowed up and turned disappointedly
+back. The hit had gone foul by several yards. A
+brand-new ball was thrown to the pitcher, and Gordon
+picked up his bat again, waited until the runners
+had regained their bases, and then once more faced
+Mason.</p>
+
+<p>That new white ball looked good to him! What he
+feared most now was that Mason would pitch a bad
+one and that he would have to take his base on balls.
+To be sure, that would force in another run, but Gordon
+wanted more than that. Something told him that
+if Mason put one over he could hit it! Perhaps it
+would have been well if Mason had sacrificed a run
+and passed the Clearfield captain, but Mason couldn’t
+be expected to know what was to happen. He wanted
+to strike the batsman out and end a deplorable inning,
+and Billy Houghton wanted the same thing. And so
+Billy spread his hands wide and Mason was just a bit
+more careful than usual and the ball sped forward fast
+and straight. And Gordon felt his heart jump as he
+saw what was coming. Every muscle tightened, his
+bat swung sharply, there was a <i>crack</i> that was easily
+heard outside the field where an eager army of small
+boys had their eyes glued to all available cracks and
+knot-holes, and Gordon was racing for first!</p>
+
+<p>Over Leary’s upstretched glove traveled the ball
+into the outfield. Jim House made a desperate effort
+to get it on the bound, missed it, whirled and scuttled
+back toward the fence. It was Pink Northrop, right
+fielder, who finally recovered it and threw it frantically
+in to second baseman. But by that time three
+joyous youths had crossed the plate and Gordon was
+sliding, in a cloud of dust, to third. And he might
+have kept his feet, at that, for poor Caspar, seeing the
+game slipping away, muffed the throw. Gordon had
+come through with a clean three-bagger! The score
+stood five to one! The “lucky seventh” had proved
+itself!</p>
+
+<div align='center'>
+<img alt='' id='i3' src='images/illus-298.jpg' />
+<p style='width:343px'>“The Lucky Seventh had proved itself”</p>
+</div>
+
+<p>The inning ended two minutes later when Way was
+an easy out, shortstop to first, and Rutter’s Point again
+took up the bat. But four runs was a desperate handicap
+to overcome, and Tom Haley, encouraged by success,
+pitched the best ball of his career. To be sure,
+Rutter’s Point did score once more, in the first of the
+ninth, Caspar Billings slamming out a two-bagger
+much too hot for Pete Robey to handle and sending
+Jensen across the plate. And after that Townsend got
+to first on an error by Will Scott, and the Point, with
+Gil Chase at bat, tried heroically to pull the game out
+of the fire by a ninth-inning rally. But Tom was not
+to be trifled with, and Chase finally went out on a long
+fly to center, which Fudge, making the most of his second
+chance of the game, pulled down without a
+tremor!</p>
+
+<p>And then the band crashed forth into a triumphant
+march, the stands emptied, the field was flooded with
+laughing, satisfied spectators, cheers were given and
+answered, and, surrounded by a dense throng of enthusiastic
+admirers, Gordon and Dick and the others
+tried to hear Mr. Potter’s speech as he presented to
+them the silver cup and the silken pennant. That
+speech appeared in full in Monday’s <i>Reporter</i>, together
+with three columns of descriptive matter
+and a detailed story of the game; but no one heard
+it now.</p>
+
+<p>Five minutes later, Dick, the trophy held on his
+knees, sat in the blue runabout, and, with the triumphant
+Clearfield nine following behind, was paraded
+thrice around the field, Morris acting as charioteer.
+And the crowd, loitering behind to miss none of the
+fun, scuttled aside and cheered and waved purple
+flags.</p>
+
+<p>Last of all, with a score-book somewhat the worse
+for wear clutched tightly under his arm, strode Harold,
+adding his shrill cheers to the general tumult.</p>
+
+<h2 id='c25'>CHAPTER XXV<br/>“THE LUCKY SEVENTH”</h2>
+
+<p>On a crisp and sunny Saturday morning, a fortnight
+after the game, a blue runabout automobile
+came quietly and circumspectly along
+Troutman Street, under the yellowing maples, and,
+with two gruff toots of its horn, slowed down and
+came to a stop in front of the Merricks’ gate. As the
+driver of the car slid the gears into neutral and kicked
+off the switch at the battery, a look of relief succeeded
+the somewhat strained and anxious expression he had
+worn. I think he even sighed his satisfaction as he
+relaxed his grasp of the steering wheel and looked
+toward the doorway. Along the running-board on
+the driver’s side of the car lay a pair of crutches, held
+in place by an ingenious contrivance of heavy wire.</p>
+
+<p>After that, there is no use trying to longer conceal
+the identity of the boy at the wheel. It was Dick. A
+week of instruction by Morris and a second week spent
+in operating alone had made him a fairly competent
+driver, but he had not yet passed the stage where a
+corner was something to be approached with vast anxiety
+and to be negotiated with care and deliberation.
+Every inch of the blue varnished surface of the car
+shone resplendently, and every particle of brass was
+polished until it was painful to view.</p>
+
+<p>Two more blasts of the grumpy horn at last produced
+results. The screen door flew open, and Gordon,
+a piece of toast in one hand and a napkin in the
+other, appeared.</p>
+
+<p>“Say, what time do you think it is?” he demanded
+laughingly.</p>
+
+<p>“It’s time you were through breakfast, anyway,” responded
+Dick. “Get a hustle on. <i>Eli</i> hates to stand.”
+(Dick had named the car <i>Eli Yale</i> because of its color,
+but generally referred to it as <i>Eli</i>.)</p>
+
+<p>“I’ll bring a lump of sugar for him,” said Gordon.
+“Keep a tight rein on him, Dick, and I’ll be with you
+in five minutes. Maybe he will stand long enough for
+you to come in and have a cup of coffee.”</p>
+
+<p>“I wouldn’t dare risk it,” replied Dick gravely. “Besides,
+I never take coffee in the middle of the forenoon.”</p>
+
+<p>“Middle of the forenoon!” grunted the other. “It
+isn’t half-past eight yet! Since you got that car, you
+never go to bed at all, I guess!”</p>
+
+<p>Gordon vanished with that, and Dick leaned
+comfortably back in the runabout to wait. But an instant
+later a speck of tarnish on the dash clock—a gift from
+Louise Brent—caught his eye, and he whisked a piece
+of cheesecloth from a pocket on the inside of the door
+and attacked it indignantly. Before he had conquered
+it, returned the cloth and buttoned the flap again, Gordon
+appeared once more, capped and ready for the
+ride.</p>
+
+<p>“All set?”</p>
+
+<p>Dick looked carefully at levers and switch. “All
+set,” he said.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon turned the handle half over, and <i>Eli</i> broke
+into a frantic chugging that could be heard six blocks
+away. Dick pushed back the throttle and pulled down
+the spark, however, and <i>Eli</i> moderated his transports.
+Gordon, who had clapped his hands to his ears, grinned
+as he climbed in beside Dick and slammed the door.
+“Gee,” he said, “but he’s some noisy!”</p>
+
+<p>“Not at all,” denied Dick indignantly. “He naturally
+chortles a little at times.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, was he chortling? I thought he was champing
+his bit. Hello, see who’s here!” added Gordon, as the
+car swayed across B Street. A lusty shouting was
+heard, and Fudge came racing along the sidewalk.
+Dick stopped.</p>
+
+<p>“W-w-where you going?” panted Fudge. “Take
+me, too, Dick. You haven’t given me a ride yet!”</p>
+
+<p>“All right,” laughed Dick. “Open the door and sit
+on the edge there, Fudge. But don’t drag your big
+feet and stop the car.”</p>
+
+<p>“Go get your cap,” advised Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Don’t need a cap. Where are you going?”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, just for a ride,” replied Dick, throwing in his
+clutch again after a calculating survey of the empty
+street.</p>
+
+<p>“The Springdale road’s pretty good,” suggested
+Gordon, with a wink at Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“I thought I’d run out toward the Point,” said Dick
+carelessly. “You don’t meet many teams that way.”</p>
+
+<p>“By the way,” asked Gordon, “when do they move
+in?”</p>
+
+<p>“Who?” Dick inquired.</p>
+
+<p>“The Brents, of course.” Fudge giggled.</p>
+
+<p>Dick laughed. “Who said anything about the
+Brents, you idiot?”</p>
+
+<p>“No one; only you spoke of going to the Point. You
+can drop Fudge and me at the hotel. We don’t want
+to be in the way.”</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, you run along and play!” said Dick good-naturedly.
+“If you really want to know when they’re
+coming back to town, I’ll tell you. They’re going to
+move in next Wednesday. Morris says it’s too hard
+to get to school on time. And since football practice
+has begun<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” Dick broke off to negotiate a corner.</p>
+
+<p>“Morris is crazy to think he can play this Fall,” said
+Fudge. “He will bust his leg again. You’ll see.”</p>
+
+<p>“He’s going to try, anyway,” said Gordon. “They’re
+going to mark out the gridiron this morning, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“That so? Oh, by the way, I heard from Harold.
+I’ve got his letter here somewhere. Steady the wheel
+a minute, Gordie, will you?” Dick drew forth an envelope
+from his pocket and handed it across. “Read
+it aloud.”</p>
+
+<p style='margin-left:2em;margin-right:2em;'>“‘Dear Dick,’” read Gordon, “‘I passed all right.
+Only I have got to do some extra Math this term. I
+was sort of rotten on Math. Old Penny (he’s the
+principal) says I did better than lots of fellows who
+come here. Loring said I was to thank you, and I do
+awfully, Dick. You were fine and dandy to me, and I
+am sorry I was such a rotter at first. And I am very
+sorry about the Math. It wasn’t your fault, Dick.
+Please remember me to the fellows, and tell them I
+am coming back next year. I am going out for the
+junior baseball team next week and maybe next summer
+I can play for you, Dick, if you want me. Loring
+says remember him to you, and so no more at
+present from your firm friend,</p>
+<p style='margin-left:2em;margin-right:2em; text-align:right; margin-top:0;margin-bottom:0;'>Harold.’”</p>
+
+<p>“‘Firm friend’ is pretty good,” commented Gordon,
+as he folded the letter up and returned it to its
+envelope. “But I’m glad the kid passed, if only on your
+account, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes; if he had failed, I’d have felt sort of mean
+about taking the money. Speaking of money, fellows,”
+he continued, as the runabout slid across the
+trolley tracks and headed toward Rutter’s Point, “Mr.
+Potter sent me the statement this morning. I didn’t
+bring it, though.”</p>
+
+<p>“How did we come out?” asked Gordon. “About
+the way we figured?”</p>
+
+<p>“Nearly forty dollars better. There were six hundred
+and thirty-three paid admissions to the game,
+amounting to four hundred and three dollars. The
+total expenses were, I think, sixty-one dollars; or maybe
+they were sixty-three. Anyway, the net profits
+amount to three hundred and forty-two dollars. That
+includes four dollars and something made on the pennants
+sold.”</p>
+
+<p>“Peanuts?” exclaimed Fudge. “I didn’t know
+we<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Pennants, stupid!” corrected Gordon. “Well, that’s
+doing pretty well, Dick. Then, after paying for the
+car, we have money left?”</p>
+
+<p>“Over fifty dollars,” was the reply. “What shall
+we do with it?”</p>
+
+<p>“G-g-give it to me,” suggested Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“I think you ought to have it for gasoline and tires,”
+laughed Gordon. “This thing will keep you poor, I’m
+afraid, Dick.”</p>
+
+<p>“No, sir,” replied the owner of the car seriously.
+“I’m studying up on autos, and I’m going to make my
+own repairs. And I’ve sent for a vulcanizing outfit
+that only costs three dollars and a half. When I get
+that I can fix my own tires. As for gasoline, why, <i>Eli</i>
+only drinks a gallon every twenty miles! And I don’t
+run that far in three days! I think it would be a good
+plan to hand over what we have left to the Athletic
+Committee, Gordie. They’ll need a lot of money now
+that we own the field. We’ll have to pay the taxes and
+for water and other things.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s right. As far as I’m concerned<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“Remember this place?” interrupted Dick.</p>
+
+<p>Gordon nodded. “Yes; that’s where Morris steered
+the car into the fence and me into the bushes.”</p>
+
+<p>“It’s where you became a blooming hero,” said
+Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Hero, nothing! What I did didn’t amount to a
+row of pins!”</p>
+
+<p>“Well, it amounted to the gift of an athletic field to
+the school,” said Dick, with a smile. “That’s something,
+you know!”</p>
+
+<p>“And it amounted to something else, t-t-too,” added
+Fudge. “It made Morris a respectable member of
+s-s-s-society!”</p>
+
+<p>“What beautiful expressions you do use, Fudge!”
+laughed Gordon.</p>
+
+<p>“Fudge is right, though,” agreed Dick, when he
+had carefully steered the car around a wagon. “Morris
+is a heap more—more likable than he was last year.
+Whether it was the accident<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“It jarred some of the nonsense out of him, perhaps,”
+said Gordon. “Although, for that matter, Dick,
+maybe you like him better for other reasons.”</p>
+
+<p>“Humph!” said Dick, with a suspicious sidelong
+glance. Fudge chuckled.</p>
+
+<p>“Even you and Morris’ father seem to be getting
+quite chummy,” pursued Gordon, “while as for Mrs.
+Brent, why, she’s absolutely spoony about you!”</p>
+
+<p>“Go ahead and enjoy yourself,” said Dick. “I
+don’t mind your ravings. Looks as though they were
+getting ready to close the hotel, doesn’t it?” he added,
+as they took the corner cautiously and turned into the
+shore road.</p>
+
+<p>“I should think they would. About everyone has
+gone. Did I tell you what Caspar Billings said at the
+station the other day?”</p>
+
+<p>“I don’t think so. What was it?”</p>
+
+<p>“He said he was going to send circulars of the hotel
+to all the prep schools next Spring, so he could get
+up a nine that would beat us next summer and get that
+pennant back!”</p>
+
+<p>“L-l-let him!” sputtered Fudge. “We’ll be ready
+for them!”</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, indeed, for we’ll have Mr. Harold Townsend
+playing for us,” said Gordon. “By the way, Dick,
+we’d better put him in center field, don’t you
+think?”</p>
+
+<p>“Certainly.”</p>
+
+<p>“That’s all r-r-right!” exploded Fudge. “P-p-put
+him there! I’m going to p-p-p-play in the infield next
+s-s-s-summer! I’m g-g-going<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>But Fudge’s remarks were drowned by the sudden
+croaking of the horn as the blue runabout approached
+the Brents’ cottage.</p>
+
+<p>“There’s Morris on the porch,” said Dick, adding
+another dismal warning.</p>
+
+<p>“Yes, and—am I mistaken, or is that<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span> My
+sight isn’t what it used to be, Fudge. Look and tell
+me if that is Louise on the steps.”</p>
+
+<p>“Dry up!” muttered Dick, turning the car toward
+the curb and throwing out the clutch.</p>
+
+<p>Morris and Louise came down the walk. “Some
+driving, that, Dick,” Morris applauded.</p>
+
+<p>“Oh, I told him what to do!” said Gordon modestly.</p>
+
+<p>“Good morning, Mister Manager,” greeted Louise.
+“Good morning, Mister Captain. Good morning, Mister<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>” She
+paused, at a loss.</p>
+
+<p>“Mister Historian,” supplied Gordon. “Fudge is
+writing a beautiful story about the game, aren’t you,
+Fudge? He’s going to call it<span style='letter-spacing: -4px;'>——</span>”</p>
+
+<p>“C-c-cut it out!” growled Fudge.</p>
+
+<p>“Please tell me, Fudge,” begged Louise. “What
+<i>are</i> you going to call it?”</p>
+
+<p>Fudge scowled, grinned, and relented.</p>
+
+<p>“I’m g-g-going to c-c-c-call it,” he said, “‘The
+Lucky Seventh.’”</p>
+
+<p style='text-align:center'>THE END</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: The Lucky Seventh
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell
+
+Release Date: June 5, 2012 [EBook #39923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
+Digital Library.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+
+
+
+By Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+  The Brother of a Hero
+  Benton's Venture
+  Around the End
+  The Junior Trophy
+  Change Signals!
+  Finkler's Field
+  For Yardley
+  The New Boy at Hilltop
+  Winning His "Y"
+  Double Play
+  Forward Pass!
+  The Spirit of the School
+  Four Afloat
+  Weatherby's Inning
+  The Half-Back
+  On Your Mark
+  Four in Camp
+  Four Afoot
+  For the Honor of the School
+  Captain of the Crew
+  Behind the Line
+  The Arrival of Jimpson
+
+D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering
+wood, and----"]
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+BY
+
+RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE BROTHER OF A HERO,"
+"BENTON'S VENTURE," ETC.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY NORMAN P. ROCKWELL
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+1915
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1915, by
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                 PAGE
+
+  I.     Gordon Gets a Letter                1
+  II.    Dick Consents                      10
+  III.   A Rich Man's Son                   28
+  IV.    The Team Elects Its Captain        43
+  V.     Dick Visits the Point              57
+  VI.    Clearfield Plays the Point         67
+  VII.   The Blue Runabout                  76
+  VIII.  Across the Gully                   87
+  IX.    Mr. Merrick Breaks a Plate         95
+  X.     Gordon Bears a Message            104
+  XI.    Fudge Scents a Secret             115
+  XII.   A Reversed Decision               126
+  XIII.  Jack Is Suspended                 141
+  XIV.   A Visit To the Invalid            150
+  XV.    On the Rocks                      163
+  XVI.   Dick Scores a Defeat              177
+  XVII.  Harold Makes a Promise            193
+  XVIII. The Live Wires--and Mr. Potter    205
+  XIX.   Mr. Potter Gets Busy              218
+  XX.    Mr. Brent to the Rescue           233
+  XXI.   Mr. Brent Telephones              246
+  XXII.  Gordon Brings Good News           261
+  XXIII. Mr. Brent Throws a Ball           271
+  XXIV.  Dick Smiles                       284
+  XXV.   "The Lucky Seventh"               302
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+  "There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood----"
+                                                         _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                            FACING PAGE
+
+  "'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge"                         54
+
+  "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"                        224
+
+  "The Lucky Seventh had proved itself"                             298
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GORDON GETS A LETTER
+
+
+When Gordon Merrick neared the corner of Troutman Street he slowed down
+his bicycle and finally drew in at the curb, putting out a foot to hold
+himself in the saddle while he deliberated. So deep in thought was he
+that when the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half asleep
+under the blue and white umbrella, he never knew of it until the
+sprinkler had drenched him from foot to knee. The driver awoke at that
+moment and, looking back, saw Gordon.
+
+"Hi, there!" he shouted. "Look out!"
+
+Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected bath, smiled.
+
+"Why?" he asked. "Are you coming back?"
+
+The joke was lost on the driver of the watering cart, however. He only
+scowled and settled back to slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glanced
+ruefully at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks of that no
+harm had been done, for it was a hot morning in early July and the
+feeling of the cool water against his leg had been decidedly pleasant.
+Evidently the incident had brought a decision in the weighty problem
+which had confronted him, for with no more hesitation he turned his
+wheel to the left and peddled on down E Street.
+
+"I'll talk to Dick about it," he said to himself. "He always knows what
+to do."
+
+The Loverings lived in the third house from the corner, one of a
+half-dozen modest abodes occupying that side of the block. All the
+houses were painted white, although differing slightly in the simplicity
+of their architecture, and all were more or less hidden from view by
+hedges of lilac or arbor-vitae. Old-fashioned white picket fences peeked
+out between the leaves of the hedges. The street itself was
+old-fashioned. Ten years before it had been in the desirable part of
+Clearfield, but since then the residential center had worked westward
+and the row of quiet, green-shuttered cottages was being closed in by
+such unsavory neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.
+
+Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened porch as the latter
+jumped from his bicycle and leaned it against the hitching-post in front
+of the little gate. "Hello, Gordie! Come on up."
+
+Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which stretched the width
+of the house. There was a table beside him which held a few flowers in a
+quaint old green vase and many books and magazines. Dick's crutches
+stood against the wall within reach, for Dick, as he put it, was "very
+fond of his crutches and never went anywhere without them." He was
+seventeen, a tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and just the
+smallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks. As Gordon came up the
+steps Dick laid down the magazine he had been reading and smiled his
+pleasant smile.
+
+"Been in the pond?" he asked, viewing the other's wet trousers.
+
+"Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are you, Dickums?"
+
+"Fine. Swell weather, isn't it? You look warm, though."
+
+"So would you if you'd been riding all over town. Say, I got a letter
+from Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think about
+it. I've got it here somewhere."
+
+"Where is Bert?" asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets.
+
+"Bridgeport, Connecticut. He's working for his uncle in some sort of a
+factory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week.
+Here it is. You'd better read it."
+
+"You do it," smiled Dick. "I'm lazy to-day."
+
+"Well, he says--Where is it?--Here we are. 'I'm sending a letter that
+came the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we're still playing
+ball and wants a game with us. I haven't answered it. What I was
+thinking was why don't you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of the
+fellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot of
+fun. Those fellows at the Point aren't anything to be scared of. You
+could get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitch
+for you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don't you?
+Anyway, you answer the letter. I'm awfully busy here and don't have much
+time for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all the
+time and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tell
+Harry Bryan when you see him that he's got my glove and is to send it to
+me because I may need it. We're getting up a team here at the factory.
+We've got a dandy pitcher and I guess they'll put me at short. Don't
+forget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.'"
+
+Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. "What do you think?" he asked.
+
+"Why, I dare say they will."
+
+"Dare say who will? Will what?"
+
+"Put Bert at short," chuckled Dick.
+
+"Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?"
+
+"Good, I'd say. I suppose," with a humorous glance at his crutches, "you
+came around to see if I'd play third base for you."
+
+"Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don't see how you can always be so
+cheerful about--about it! I couldn't."
+
+"Well, it isn't hard, Gordie, when you've had seventeen years' practice.
+Of course, if I'd been able to get around like other fellows and
+then--then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chap
+might as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don't miss much
+fun. I can't play games or run or skate or--or do a lot of things I'd
+like to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if
+I _could_--well, play third base, say, I'd do it better than the next
+chap. The beauty of it is that you can't prove I wouldn't!"
+
+"I'll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and more
+football than most of the fellows who play."
+
+"Why not?" laughed Dick. "They don't have as much time to study it as I
+do. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind
+about me. What's this Billings chap say?"
+
+"Oh!" Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope and read
+its contents. "'Mr. Bert Cable, Captain Clearfield High School Baseball
+Club, Dear Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up a ball
+team and we want games. Will you play us? We'll play on our own field or
+on yours, just as you say. Any date after July 10th will suit us,
+Wednesdays or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average about the
+same as your team, I guess. Please let me hear from you, and if there
+are any other teams around Clearfield we could play with I wish you'd
+let me know and send managers' addresses. Very truly, Caspar Billings,
+Captain, Rutter's Point Baseball Association.'"
+
+"Caspar Billings," mused Dick. "Which one of the Silk Stocking Brigade
+is he, Gordon?"
+
+Gordon smiled. "I don't remember him particularly. He's a sort of chum
+of Morris Brent, though."
+
+"That all you can say for him?" asked Dick. "I suppose Morris will play
+with the Pointers?"
+
+"I guess so. He won't be much of a help, though. He plays ball
+like--like a turtle!"
+
+"Morris says," replied Dick with his slow smile, "that he can play a lot
+better than most of you fellows and that if Bert and Tom Haley and some
+of the others weren't down on him he'd have made the team last spring."
+
+"Guff! He can't catch a ball. He's not a bad sort, Morris, if his dad
+_does_ own the town, but he's no Ty Cobb! Well, what do you think about
+getting up a team, Dickums?"
+
+"Why not? You've got plenty of fellows. Most of the school team are
+still around, aren't they?"
+
+"All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe Browne."
+
+"Where's Warner?"
+
+"I don't know. Gone away with his folks somewhere for the summer. Wish
+my folks would do that."
+
+"Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let's make up the team. Haley,
+pitch, and Lanny, catcher----"
+
+"I'll play first and Harry Bryan second----"
+
+"How about Will Scott?"
+
+"Third. Then for shortstop----"
+
+"Jack Tappen?"
+
+"N-no, he'd better play in the outfield. I'll put him down for right. I
+guess Pete Robey's the chap for short. That leaves us Way for left field
+and I guess Fudge will do for center. He can't hit much, but he can pull
+down a fly."
+
+"There you are, then. What will you call the nine? You can't be the High
+School team, I suppose."
+
+"N-no, we'll have to find a name. The Clearfield--what, Dickums?"
+
+"Rovers?"
+
+"Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs," laughed Gordon. "We might call
+ourselves the Purple Sox, only it's sort of hard to say."
+
+"Shorten it," suggested Dick. "Call yourselves the 'Purps.'"
+
+"That's worse than the Rovers! Why not just the Clearfield Ball Club?"
+
+"Why not? That's settled. Now you want a manager----"
+
+"Got one."
+
+"You have? Who?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Surest thing you know. That's partly why I came. To tell you. You see,
+I thought you'd want to know it."
+
+"Very thoughtful of you," Dick laughed. "But will you tell me how I can
+manage a ball team, you idiot?"
+
+"Why can't you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and look
+after the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make me
+captain----"
+
+"Which they will, as it's your scheme!"
+
+"It's really Bert's. But if they do I'm going to tell the other fellows
+that they've got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I do
+and you're going to be the real thing."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense about it. That's settled, then."
+
+"But, look here, I'd have to go to places with you and--and--well, you
+know, Gordie, I can't afford to do that very often."
+
+"It won't cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club.
+Besides, we'll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess.
+Now I'm going to see Lanny and talk it over with him."
+
+"Well, all right. I'll be manager if you really want me to. I'd like it.
+Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think----"
+
+"You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death," replied
+Gordon severely. "And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off
+this porch now and then. You don't get enough sunshine and fresh air."
+
+"Considering that I'm outdoors all day and sleep with my head through
+the window," laughed Dick, "that's a bit of a joke. But have your own
+way, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?"
+
+"Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I'll come over again after dinner. Rah for
+the Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DICK CONSENTS
+
+
+"The only th-thing is," said Fudge, "it's going to co-cost a heap, isn't
+it?"
+
+Fudge, whose real name was William Shaw, was fifteen years of age, had
+sandy-red hair and blue eyes and was short of stature and round of body.
+His habitual expression was one of pleased surprise, due probably to the
+fact that his blue eyes were very blue and very big. When Fudge was the
+least bit excited he stammered, but the habit was too slight to be an
+affliction, and his friends sometimes got Fudge upset in order to enjoy
+his facial contortions when the word wouldn't come promptly. It was
+Lansing White who, several years before in grammar school, had dubbed
+him Fudge. Lanny declared that "pshaw" and "fudge" meant the same thing
+and that "fudge" was more novel. At the present moment Fudge was seated
+in the apple tree which grew by the fence where the Shaws' side-yard and
+the Merricks' back-yard came together. It was a favorite retreat with
+Fudge, and he had built a shelf handy to the comfortable crotch he
+affected on which to place books and papers when, as was customary, he
+was studying his lessons there. To-day, however, as school was over for
+the summer, there were no books about and the shelf bore, instead, a
+tennis racket which Fudge had been mending when Gordon found him.
+
+"I don't see why," replied Gordon, leaning his arms on the top of the
+fence. "We've all got our High School uniforms and we've all got bats
+and mitts and things. All we'd need to spend money on would be balls, I
+guess. Of course, when we went away every fellow would have to pay his
+transportation."
+
+"M-meaning carfare?" queried Fudge. "Say, it's a peach of a scheme,
+Gordie! I wish I could bat better, though. Maybe I'll get on to it, eh?
+I guess what I need is practice." And Fudge, swinging an imaginary bat
+at an invisible ball, almost fell off the branch. "Who's going to be
+captain?" he asked when he had recovered his equilibrium.
+
+"We'll vote, I suppose," replied Gordon.
+
+Fudge grinned. "Then it'll be me. I'm awfully popular. Have you told
+Lanny yet?"
+
+"Yes, and he says if you play center there's got to be a rule that a hit
+to center field is good for only three bases."
+
+Fudge snorted indignantly. "If he ever hit a ball as far as the outfield
+he'd fall in a faint! When do we start?"
+
+"I've got to see the other fellows yet. Harry is working in his father's
+store and I don't know whether his dad will let him play."
+
+"That's so. We need him, too. He's a peach of a baseman. Who's going to
+play short?"
+
+"I want Pete Robey to," replied Gordon doubtfully. "Think he'd do,
+Fudge?"
+
+"We-ell, Pete isn't so much of a muchness. Why don't you p-put him in
+center and let me play short?"
+
+"Because a fellow has to have brains to play in the infield, Fudge,
+and----"
+
+Fudge tried to reach him with the racket, failed and, composing his
+features to an expression of grave interest, asked: "Won't it be awfully
+hard to find anyone to play first?"
+
+Gordon smiled. "Never you mind about first. Get your wheel and let's go
+around and see some of the fellows. We can catch Harry at the store if
+we hurry. I want to see Tom, too. If he won't go into it and pitch for
+us we might as well give it up."
+
+"Oh, Tom'll pitch all right," answered Fudge, dropping from the tree,
+racket in hand. "He'd rather pitch a baseball than eat. I'll meet you
+out front in two minutes."
+
+He wormed his way through the currant bushes to the garden path and
+disappeared toward the house, while Gordon, dodging the clothes lines
+strung near the rear fence, went along the brick walk and gained the
+side porch by the simple expedient of vaulting the railing. The Merrick
+house was new--most of the residences on that end of Troutman Street
+were--and was mildly pretentious. Mr. Merrick was a lawyer and
+comfortably well-to-do. The family had lived in Clearfield for six
+generations and had given its name to one of the principal streets in
+the downtown business part of the city. I refer to Clearfield as a city,
+and it really was, but it was not a very large city. The latest census
+credited it with something over 17,000 inhabitants. Like many New
+England cities of its kind, it owed its growth and prosperity to
+factories of various sorts. Mill River, which entered the bay two miles
+distant, flowed along the edge of the town and provided water-power for
+a number of large manufacturing plants, knitting mills, a sewing machine
+factory, a silverware factory and several others.
+
+The knitting mills were largely owned by Mr. Brent, the Honorable
+Jonathan Brent, as the Clearfield _Reporter_ usually referred to him,
+and while Gordon had spoken of Mr. Brent "owning the town," he had, of
+course, exaggerated, but still had not been very far wide of the mark.
+Mr. Brent was Clearfield's richest and its leading citizen. Besides the
+knitting mills he controlled two banks and the street railway and
+lighting service and had a finger--usually two or three fingers--in many
+other enterprises. The Brent residence, standing imposingly in a whole
+block of land, was visible, further along Troutman Street, from the
+Merricks' porch. In this, the more recently developed part of the town,
+the wide streets were lined with maples as yet too young to afford much
+shade, but a giant elm tree, which had been old long before Clearfield
+even thought of growing away from the river, stood just inside the
+Merricks' front gate and effectively screened the house from the hot
+sunlight.
+
+Gordon contented himself with putting his head inside the screen door
+and announcing in a loud voice: "Mother, I'm going downtown. Is there
+anything you want?" Mrs. Merrick's voice floated down from upstairs in
+reply: "No, dear; but please try to be on time for dinner. You know your
+father dislikes----"
+
+But Gordon didn't hear the rest of it. He didn't need to. He knew what
+his father disliked. His father disliked having him late for his meals,
+disliked his going out in the evenings, disliked--oh, so many things!
+Gordon sighed as he mounted his wheel. Life was really extremely
+difficult at times!
+
+He was a well-built, athletic youth of fifteen years, with a pleasant,
+clean-cut face, dark brown eyes and hair and a well-tanned skin. He
+looked very much alive and rather enthusiastic, just the sort of a boy,
+in short, to undertake and carry through successfully such an enterprise
+as the formation of the Clearfield Baseball Club.
+
+Fudge was waiting for him around the corner, and they set off together
+in search of Tom Haley. Tom lived in what folks called the East End,
+which was that section of the town near the railroad largely inhabited
+by workers in the mills and factories. Tom's father was a foreman in the
+sewing-machine works, and the family occupied a tiny story-and-a-half
+cottage so close to the railroad tracks that it shook whenever the
+trains passed. Fortunately they found Tom at home, very busily engaged
+repairing the front steps, surrounded by carpenter's tools and three
+junior members of the Haley family. He rescued the chisel from Tille,
+aged four, deprived the baby of a handful of nails, told George, aged
+six, to stop sawing the chair leg, and greeted his visitors.
+
+Tom was sixteen, big, broad-shouldered and raw-boned, with an angular
+face and high cheek-bones liberally speckled with freckles. At present
+he was minus coat and vest and wore a pair of blue overalls. "You kids
+get in the house now," he instructed the suddenly silent trio of
+youngsters, "and tell your mother to keep you in there, too. You've
+bothered me enough. Shoo, the whole lot of you!"
+
+They went, with many backward glances, and Tom cleared a space on the
+edge of the unrailed porch for Gordon and Fudge. "Say, it's some warm,
+isn't it? What you fellows up to to-day? Going to the pond?"
+
+"No, we're calling on you," replied Fudge.
+
+"Much obliged. What's the game?"
+
+"Baseball," said Gordon. "We're getting up a team to play the Rutter's
+Point fellows and we want you to join, Tom."
+
+"I don't mind, if there isn't much practice. There's a lot to be done
+around the house here this summer. We're going to shingle next week, and
+after that we'll paint. Who's on the team?"
+
+Gordon explained all about it, read Bert Cable's letter and Caspar
+Billings' and told Tom the line-up of the nine as he had planned it.
+
+"Sounds all right," said Tom. "When are you going to start?"
+
+"Right away. If you'll pitch for us we'll be all right. I'll answer
+Billings' letter and tell him we'll meet him a week from Wednesday.
+That'll give us a whole week for practicing."
+
+"All right, I'm with you, only don't expect me to practice much, Gordon.
+I'm pretty busy. I'll come out a couple of times, though; say--let me
+see--say Friday and Monday. Going to use the school field?"
+
+"Yes. I don't suppose anyone will object?"
+
+"Don't see why they should. You'd better see Mr. Grayson, though."
+
+"I will. No, that will be up to Dick. He's going to be manager."
+
+"Dick Lovering?" asked Tom, in surprise. "Well, I don't see why not. He
+can get around all right. Have you asked him?"
+
+"Yes, and he said he would. The only thing is, Tom, we'll have to pay
+his expenses if we go away from home very far. I told him we would. It
+wouldn't be much if we shared it. You see, Dick doesn't have much money.
+I guess they're pretty hard-up. His father only left them that house
+they're in and a little insurance money, and of course Dick can't do
+much to earn any."
+
+"He told me the other day," said Fudge, "that he was trying to get work
+tutoring this summer over at the Point. He could do that finely if he
+could find anyone to toot. Hope he does. Dick's a peach."
+
+"Then we'll have first practice Wednesday, the rest of us, and we'll
+look for you Friday, Tom. I've got to catch Harry before he goes home.
+Maybe his father won't let him off. If he won't we'll be in a bad way
+for a second baseman."
+
+"If you hold practice late--say, half-past four--I guess Harry could get
+there," said Tom. "And we wouldn't play more than twice a week, I
+suppose. Who else are you going after besides the Pointers?"
+
+"I don't know. Maybe Lesterville. They've got a pretty good club over
+there. I guess we can find games enough, Tom."
+
+"I suppose the Springdale team has disbanded," said Tom. "I'd like to
+get another whack at those fellows!"
+
+"So would I," Gordon agreed. "We never should have lost that last game,
+Tom. We all played like idiots, though. Six errors is going some!"
+
+"It was an off-day with me, all right," grumbled Tom. "I couldn't put
+'em over the plate to save my life in the last four innings."
+
+"We'll lick them at football this fall," asserted Fudge.
+
+"Bound to," agreed Tom, with a sly wink at Gordon. "Fudge is going to
+play, you know."
+
+"You bet I am!" exclaimed Fudge. "I'm going to p-p-play end. I'm
+g-g-going----"
+
+"So am I," laughed Gordon. "Right now. Come along, Fudge, and we'll hunt
+up Harry. I'm glad you'll come in with us, Tom. By the way, I suppose we
+ought to have a sort of meeting to organize pretty soon. How would it do
+if you all came to my house to-morrow evening? We'll have to choose a
+captain and--and talk things over."
+
+"Oh, you'll be captain," said Tom. "It's your scheme. Besides, who else
+is there?"
+
+"You, or Harry, or Will Scott, or----"
+
+"Shucks, they're not made for it. It'll be either you or Lansing, I
+guess. Anyway, I'll be over to-morrow, if you say so, about eight. So
+long. I've got to get these boards down before dinner."
+
+They found Harry Bryan in his father's grocery. He, too, was very busy,
+but he stopped putting up orders long enough to hear Gordon's tale, and
+was instantly enthusiastic.
+
+"I'll have to ask my dad, though," he said doubtfully. "He's keeping me
+pretty close to business," he added importantly.
+
+"What do you do, Harry?" asked Fudge. "Put the sand in the sugar?"
+
+Harry treated the insult with silent contempt. "I'll ask him to-night,
+though," he continued, "and let you know."
+
+"Telephone me, will you? We'll have practice late in the afternoon,
+Harry. You wouldn't have to get away until after four."
+
+"I know. I guess he will let me. He ought to." Harry observed the yellow
+slips in his hand somberly. "I've been working pretty hard, I tell you."
+
+"I should think," suggested the irrepressible Fudge, "that if you worked
+late to-night you could sand enough sugar to last the week out!"
+
+"Say, they're not going to let you play, are they, Fudge?"
+
+"How could they do without me?"
+
+"It'll be a peach of a nine!" jeered Harry. He was only a year older
+than Fudge, but pretended to regard that youth with amused toleration,
+and so caused Fudge deep annoyance at times.
+
+"Well, we've got eight good ones," responded Fudge sweetly. "If we could
+only find a fellow to play second base, we'd be all right."
+
+"It's a wonder they don't put you there."
+
+"Oh, I was offered the position, bu-but I didn't want it. I prefer the
+outfield. There's more re-re-responsibility there."
+
+"You're a wonder!" said Harry. "What would you do if a ball came your
+way? Hold your mouth open and try to swallow it?"
+
+"You wa-wait and see! If I co-co-couldn't catch a b-b-ball better
+th-th-than you----"
+
+"Calm yourself, Fudge! You're off your trolley again! I'll be around
+to-morrow night, Gordon. Now I'll have to get busy. Watch Fudge as he
+goes out, will you? Last time he was in he got away with three or four
+pounds of prunes."
+
+"I took three of the old th-th-th-things," said Fudge bitterly, "and
+they n-n-nearly killed me!"
+
+They left Harry surrounded by baskets, frowning over the order slips in
+his hand, and made their way back to the sidewalk and their wheels. As
+it was almost noon, Gordon decided not to risk his father's displeasure
+by seeing any more of the fellows before dinner, and he and Fudge
+pedaled home, Fudge still sputtering about those prunes.
+
+At a little after four that afternoon Gordon was back at Dick's to
+report success. All the members of the Clearfield Ball Club had agreed
+to play and to attend the organization meeting the next evening--all,
+that is, save Harry Bryan, who was to telephone later.
+
+"Now, Dickums, if you'll write to Billings and tell him----"
+
+"If _I'll_ write!"
+
+Gordon laughed. "Of course; you're the manager, aren't you?"
+
+"Humph! So I have to attend to the correspondence too, do I? It seems to
+me that you ought to write that letter. Bert sent it to you, and you're
+captain, and----"
+
+"Well, that's what I thought," responded Gordon cheerfully, "until I got
+to thinking it over. Then I remembered that you were manager, and, of
+course, managers always attend to arranging contests; and there you are.
+Just tell him we'll play his team on Wednesday the sixteenth, Dickums,
+at the Point."
+
+"All right. I might call on him and tell him about it, though, for I'm
+going over to the Point in the morning."
+
+"You are? What for?"
+
+"To get a job, I hope. You know I got them to put up a notice in the
+hotel over there for me: 'tutoring in French, Mathematics, and English;
+references; terms on request.' This afternoon a Mrs. Townsend called me
+up by telephone, and she wants me to come over in the morning and see
+about coaching her son. He's going to Rifle Point School in the Fall and
+is weak on English and Math. He's thirteen, she says. She seemed to
+think the price was all right, but she wants me to have a look at the
+youngster first. Sounded as though she was afraid I wouldn't like him.
+I'd coach a Bengal tiger if I got paid for it. I need the money,
+Gordie."
+
+"That's fine! Then why not see Billings instead of writing to him? You
+could arrange the whole thing in five minutes. Do you know where he
+lives?"
+
+"No, but they can tell me at the hotel, I guess. By the way, why do you
+want to play over there? Why not have them come over here?"
+
+"Because I saw Mr. Grayson awhile ago and asked him if it would be all
+right if we used the school field, and he said it would as far as he was
+concerned, but that he'd just got notice from Mr. Brent that they are
+going to cut the field up pretty soon for building lots. I suppose we
+could use it until they begin to build on it, but I haven't seen Mr.
+Brent yet, and I thought it would be safer to say we'd play them at the
+Point. They'll probably want another game, and then, if it's all right
+about the field, we could play them here."
+
+"But that will leave us without an athletic field!" exclaimed Dick, in
+dismay. "I thought we had a lease or something on it."
+
+"Mr. Grayson says not. Says Mr. Brent just agreed to let us use it as
+long as it wasn't needed for anything else. Now he wants it put in the
+market for house lots. Rather tough, isn't it? I guess we can find
+another field somewhere, though."
+
+"Not in town," said Dick. "We'll probably have to go across the river
+somewhere. There are plenty of fields over there, but they're as rough
+as the dickens. What did Mr. Grayson say about that?"
+
+"Nothing much. He seemed to think it was up to the Athletic Committee."
+
+"Perhaps it is, but he's principal, and----"
+
+"Shucks, he wouldn't care a lot if we didn't have a field, I guess!"
+
+"I don't think that, Gordie. Grayson's not very keen about our
+athletics, I know, but he's been pretty decent, just the same. We'll
+have to get busy right away and find a new place. The football fellows
+will want to start practice in something like two months. Does Way know
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know. I saw Grayson after I left Way. I don't believe he does,
+for he didn't say anything. He will have to get the committee together
+and have a meeting, I guess. Who's on it now?"
+
+"Aren't you?"
+
+"No, not this year. There's Way, and Harry, and Bert----"
+
+"Well, Bert can't come. I think Will Scott is on it, isn't he?"
+
+"Maybe; he probably is if Way belongs. Well, it's up to Way. I thought
+I'd ask Mr. Brent if we could keep on using the field for a while; or
+have Morris ask him. I dare say he'd be more likely to say yes if Morris
+asks him. Come to think of it, Dickums, as you're manager----"
+
+"No, you don't! I wouldn't beard old man Brent in his den for a hundred
+dollars! If I've got to do that, I'll resign!"
+
+"All right, then, I'll do it!" laughed Gordon. "Or I'll see Morris about
+it. I don't see why he needs to cut up that field, though. Seems to me
+there are enough houses in this town already."
+
+"Wants the money, probably. Bet you Jonathan Brent would cut up the
+Garden of Eden for house lots if he had it!"
+
+"You don't seem to care a whole lot for Mr. Brent, Dickums."
+
+"I don't," responded Dick emphatically. "We wouldn't be like we are
+now--as poor as church mice--if father hadn't got mixed up with Mr.
+Brent in one of his real-estate schemes. I'm not saying that Mr. Brent
+was dishonest, Gordie, but he was too sharp for dad, and dad got let in
+for a pile of money."
+
+"I didn't know that," said Gordon. "You never told me, did you?"
+
+"No. It was a long time ago, when I was just a kid. Dad moved here from
+Norwalk when I was three years old. He had quite a little
+money--thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars it was--and Mr. Brent got
+him to invest it in that South-west Division, as they called it. They
+got hold of a pile of land down the river toward the Point. You know;
+where the picnic grove is. They were going to sell it for factory sites
+and there was a railway coming through to connect with the Shore Line,
+and everything was fine--on paper. But the bottom fell out of the
+scheme; the factories didn't come, and the railroad decided not to
+build; and the mortgages were foreclosed; and after it was all over Mr.
+Brent had the whole thing and dad had nothing! And it was all legal and
+above-board, too! And that's why I've never had much use for Jonathan
+Brent; nor Morris, either, although Morris has never done anything to
+me."
+
+"You and he seem to be pretty good friends," said Gordon.
+
+"I know. He---- Well, he seems to like me pretty well, and you can't be
+anything but decent to a fellow in that case, can you? I suppose if
+Jonathan Brent wasn't his father I'd like him well enough. Well, I'll
+stop in and see this Billings chap to-morrow. It's less trouble than
+writing a letter, I guess. Wednesday the sixteenth, on their own
+grounds, at--what time?"
+
+"Three o'clock, I suppose," answered Gordon. "That will give us plenty
+of time to get over on the two-o'clock car and warm up a bit before the
+game. You might tell him about our field, and say that if they want a
+return game we'll play it over here if we can get the use of the field.
+By the way, that grandstand at the field belongs to the school. We'll
+have to move that if we get out. I wish Mr. Brent would be satisfied
+with all the money he's got and not go and take our field away from us."
+
+"So do I. What we want to do, though, is to watch out and be sure he
+doesn't swipe the grandstand too!"
+
+"Well, you _are_ rabid!" laughed Gordon. "Still, I don't know that I
+blame you. I never knew that about your father, Dickums."
+
+"Well, don't repeat it, please. It's all done with now, and there's no
+use talking about it. I don't--very often. Only sometimes---- Well, I
+get sort of hot under the collar when I think of all the money Jonathan
+Brent has and how awfully hard we have to scrabble to get along.
+Good-bye, Mr. Captain."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Manager. I'm not captain, though."
+
+"You will be," laughed Dick. "You always are, you know!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A RICH MAN'S SON
+
+
+Gordon had doubts of finding Morris Brent at home when, shortly after
+nine o'clock the next morning, he walked up the neat artificial-stone
+path to the front door of Brentwood. But the maid who responded to his
+ring assured him that Master Morris was in, and led the way to the
+gray-and-gold reception room. He decided to take no chances with the
+spindle-legged, silk-brocaded chairs, and took refuge in front of the
+mantel, from which place he viewed the gray satin wall panels and dainty
+luxuries of the apartment with surprise. He didn't have to wait long,
+however, for he had only just reached the conclusion that the room was
+pretty but uncomfortable when footsteps sounded quickly in the hall and
+a boy a year older than he appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Hello, Gordon! How are you? Say, what did they put you in here for?
+This room gives me the creeps, doesn't it you? Come on out on the
+piazza."
+
+Gordon followed his host across the hall, through a warm-toned,
+luxurious but decidedly comfortable library and out of a French door
+onto a wide porch that was screened and curtained. There were many
+bright rugs and gayly cushioned easy-chairs here; and tables with
+blossoming plants and books and magazines on them. From the porch one
+looked across a carefully kept lawn to where a symmetrically clipped
+hedge bordered Louise Street. Mr. Brent owned not only the block on
+which his estate was located, but some eight or nine adjoining blocks
+besides, his property running from his back line across Troutman,
+Lafayette, Main, and Common Streets to the river, including, two blocks
+north, the plot of land which for many years the High School had used as
+an athletic field. Mr. Brent had laid out the section himself and had
+named the two cross streets after his son and daughter, Morris and
+Louise.
+
+Morris was a good-looking youth, with a self-confident air and a
+somewhat dissatisfied expression. He was tall, carried himself well,
+dressed rather more expensively than his companions in high school, and
+was never quite able to forget or allow others to forget that he was
+Jonathan Brent's son and heir. But, in spite of that, he was not
+unpopular, and if there was any snobbishness about him it was
+unconscious. In fact, there were one or two of his acquaintances in
+Clearfield to whom he went out of his way to ingratiate himself. Gordon
+was one and Dick was another. But Gordon had never cared to respond more
+than half-heartedly to Morris' advances, while Dick's attitude we
+already know.
+
+Morris pulled forward the most comfortable chair for his guest, repeated
+that he was glad to see him, and for several minutes gave Gordon no
+chance to state his errand. When he did, however, Morris was as much
+surprised as Dick had been.
+
+"Dad hasn't mentioned it to me," he said, with a frown. "That's too bad,
+isn't it? I don't see why he needs to cut up that land just now. What'll
+we do, Gordon, for a place to play?"
+
+"Dick said he supposed we'd have to go across the river. That would make
+it pretty far from school, though. But I don't know of any place in
+town, do you?"
+
+Morris shook his head, and Gordon went on:
+
+"What I wanted to see you about was to ask if you thought your father
+would have any objection to our using the field until they began to
+build on it. I don't think they've done anything there yet. I thought
+maybe you wouldn't mind asking your father, Morris."
+
+Morris hesitated a moment. "I'll ask him," he said, at last, "but he and
+I--well, we aren't on very good terms just now. Honestly, I think it
+would be better if you asked him yourself, Gordon. I'm afraid he'd say
+no to me just to--to be nasty. You see, we had a sort of row about an
+automobile. He kind of promised last Christmas that he'd get me a
+runabout this Spring, and when I asked about it he put me off; and so
+I"--Morris grinned--"I went ahead and got Stacey to order one for me. It
+came yesterday, and I told dad and he got as mad as a hatter about it.
+Says I can't have it now. I'm going to, though. I've got some money in
+the bank, and Stacey says he'll wait for the rest of it. It's only six
+hundred dollars, anyway."
+
+"Too bad!" murmured Gordon, not very enthusiastically. "Maybe he will
+change his mind, though."
+
+"Not he! He isn't made that way. What are you going to do at the field?
+Play ball?"
+
+Gordon told about the letter from Caspar Billings and the formation of
+the ball club. "I suppose," he ended, "you'll play with the Point
+fellows?"
+
+Morris shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose so. I haven't heard anything
+about it yet. Caspar's a friend of mine, though. We don't move out to
+the Point until the seventeenth this summer. Dad's full of business and
+as grouchy as the dickens. Sis and I have been trying to get mother to
+spunk up and insist on moving right away, but she won't. Who's on your
+team, Gordon?"
+
+Gordon told him. Morris criticised several of his selections and was
+infinitely amused at the idea of Fudge Shaw playing. Gordon had an
+uneasy feeling that Morris perhaps resented not being asked to join. But
+if Morris held any resentment, he didn't show it.
+
+"We ought to have some good games," he said finally and approvingly. "I
+dare say Caspar will want me to play on his team. You know him, don't
+you?"
+
+Gordon was doubtful. "I think I remember him," he said, "but I'm not
+sure. What does he look like?"
+
+"Oh, rather a good-looking chap--big, dark hair, plays tennis a lot and
+is pretty good at it. He lives in a cottage near the hotel, the second
+in the row at the left. He's a dandy chap, Billings. I don't see,
+though, where he's going to get enough fellows at the Point to make up a
+nine, unless there are more there this year than usual. Perhaps he's got
+some fellows staying with him. He goes to St. George's, you know, and
+last year he brought a couple of friends home with him for a while."
+
+"Dick went over to the Point this morning to see about coaching a boy
+who is going to Rifle Point in the Fall," said Gordon. "He's going to
+look up Billings and tell him we'll play him a week from Saturday."
+
+"Could Dick do that? Coach, I mean."
+
+"I guess so. You know he's about the smartest fellow in his class at
+school. He wants to earn some money, and there aren't many things he can
+do. I hope he gets the job."
+
+"Yes. I like Dick. He's terribly white, isn't he? Gee, if I had a bum
+hip like his and had to live on crutches, I'd--I'd----" But words failed
+him. He shook his head. "He's so awfully cheerful. Who is the kid he's
+going to coach?"
+
+"I've forgotten the name. He told me. Something like Prentiss, I think."
+
+Morris shook his head again. "Don't know them. They must be new. When I
+get over there, Gordon, I'll see if I can't drum up some trade for Dick.
+I know about everyone there." He paused, and then added morosely, with a
+wry smile: "It might be a mighty good scheme if I had him coach me a
+bit. I've got to take my college exams next year, and I know blamed well
+I won't pass them." He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I've got another
+year yet. Do you have to go? Stay and play a couple of sets of tennis
+with me. You've never tried our court, have you?"
+
+"I'd like to, but I want to get this business settled. I guess I'd
+better go and see your father about the field. I'd like to play, though,
+some time," he added, as he saw Morris' face fall. "It looks like a
+bully court."
+
+"It is. It's a dandy. Fast as lightning. I haven't played much myself
+this year, and I'm all out of trim. Sis and I had a couple of sets the
+other day, and she pretty nearly licked me."
+
+"I hope your sister is well," murmured Gordon. "And Mrs. Brent."
+
+"Yes, thanks. Sis ought to be around somewhere. Wait till I see."
+
+He got up and passed into the library, and Gordon heard him calling his
+sister at the stairway. He came back in a moment. "She's coming down,"
+he announced. "Don't hurry off. Dad will be in his office all the
+morning, I guess. I hope you don't mind my not wanting to ask him,
+Gordon. I would in a minute, only, as I say, we aren't very chummy just
+now."
+
+At that moment Louise Brent came through the doorway, and Gordon, who
+had reseated himself after his first start to leave, arose again. She
+was tall, like her brother, but, unlike him, was light in coloring, with
+brown hair that just escaped being yellow and a very fair skin and blue
+eyes. She was not a beauty, but she was pretty in spite of irregular
+features, with a lot of animation and a smile that won friends at once.
+She was fifteen; but she looked older, Gordon thought as he took the
+hand she extended.
+
+"I haven't seen you for a long time, Gordon," she said, as she seated
+herself on the edge of Morris' chair. "Not since the school dance in
+January. And then you didn't ask me for a single dance."
+
+Gordon smiled a trifle embarrassedly. "I--I don't dance very well," he
+said. "I thought it would be kinder to spare you."
+
+"You didn't spare Grace Levering," she laughed.
+
+"Well, Grace----"
+
+"Is awfully nice. I know."
+
+"I didn't mean that! I meant that--she's only thirteen--and----"
+
+"Oh, I'm too old?" Louise opened her eyes very wide. "But I'm only
+fifteen, Gordon. How old are you? Or isn't it polite to ask?"
+
+"Fifteen, too," he laughed. "I guess the reason I danced with Grace so
+much was because I thought she wasn't old enough to be fussy about the
+way I did it. Kind of tough on her, though, wasn't it?"
+
+"Kind of tough on the rest of us, you mean," responded Louise. "You'll
+have to make it up this summer by coming to some of our parties at the
+Point. Will you?"
+
+"Why--yes, if you want me to. But, really and truly, I'm a fierce
+dancer, Louise."
+
+"Is he?" She turned to her brother. Morris shook his head.
+
+"Search me. I know he can bat a ball like sixty, though. I've been
+trying to get him to stay and play some tennis, but he won't. You ask
+him, sis."
+
+"Won't you?" she begged. "The court's just crying to be played on. If
+you will, I'll bring you out the biggest, coldest pitcher of lemonade,
+Gordon, you ever saw!"
+
+"Thanks, but--some other time----"
+
+"That means never!" she sighed. "I don't think you're as nice as you
+used to be. Is he, Morris?"
+
+"He's so full of business these days. Say, sis, father's going to cut up
+the athletic field for building lots. What do you think of that?"
+
+"What for?" she demanded.
+
+"Search me. It leaves the school in a hole, all right."
+
+"How horribly mean!" said Louise. "It was such a nice field, too! I
+don't think he ought to do it, Morris, and I guess I'll tell him so."
+
+"Go ahead!" laughed her brother. "It'll make a lot of difference--I
+don't think! Gordon came around to get me to ask dad to let the fellows
+use the field until he began to cut it up, but I told him that he'd
+better do the asking himself. If I asked he might give orders to build a
+dozen houses on it to-morrow!"
+
+"I know." Louise nodded. "I wish you'd give up the idea of that
+automobile, Morris. Mother doesn't want you to have it, either."
+
+"Just because dad made such a fuss," he grumbled. "She was all right
+before that. I'm going to have it, just the same."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't," she murmured. "Do you think he ought to drive an
+auto, Gordon? Don't you think it's too dangerous?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Gordon. "I've never had much experience with
+automobiles. I suppose, though, that if one is careful----"
+
+"Morris won't be," mourned Louise. "He'll have an accident, kill
+himself, break his arm or something."
+
+"Oh, piffle, sis! I can run an automobile as well as any chap. I've done
+it. When I get the car you'll be tickled to death, and you'll want to be
+riding in it every minute."
+
+Louise shook her head energetically. "No, I shan't, Morris. I'd be
+scared to death. And I think it would be much better for you to wait
+another year or two. Papa won't like it a bit if you take your money out
+of the bank and spend it on an automobile."
+
+"It's my money, and I have a right to do as I please with it," responded
+her brother. "Besides, if he'd kept his word----"
+
+"Oh, Morris, you shouldn't say things like that! Papa never actually
+told you you could have it."
+
+"Well, he as much as told me," muttered Morris. "Anyway, I'm going to
+have it. Stacey would think I was a pretty funny sort if I refused to
+take it after he'd got it for me."
+
+"Maybe he could sell it to someone else," suggested Gordon. "'Most
+everyone is buying the things nowadays. Well, I'll be going, I guess.
+Good-bye. Good-bye, Louise. I'll come over some time and have that
+tennis, Morris, if you'll let me know."
+
+"Come whenever you can, will you? I'm at home most of the time; or I
+shall be until I get my car." And Morris grinned exasperatingly at his
+sister.
+
+"Don't forget that you're to come to the Point some time and dance every
+dance with me," Louise reminded, as she and Morris accompanied Gordon to
+the door. "That's the only apology I'll accept."
+
+"You'll wish you hadn't invited me after the first dance," replied the
+visitor grimly. "But I'll come if you want me to some time. Good-bye."
+
+On his wheel once more, and spinning down the shadow-dappled street, he
+thought, not without a little natural envy, how fine it must be to have
+as much money as the Brents. Morris had spoken of buying a
+six-hundred-dollar automobile in much the same way as Gordon might have
+announced his intention of purchasing a new suit of clothes! And yet, on
+reflection, Morris didn't seem really happy and contented, and never
+had. He always appeared to have a quarrel with someone or something.
+Sometimes it was the teachers at High School, who were imposing on him;
+once it had been the baseball coach, Mr. Farrel, who, according to
+Morris, was keeping him off the team for spite, and now it was with his
+father. It would seem, then, that the possession of much wealth didn't
+always bring contentment. There was Dick Levering, who was not only poor
+but a cripple as well, and who was absolutely the most cheerful and
+contented fellow of all Gordon's acquaintances. It was a bit puzzling,
+Gordon thought, as he whirled into E Street and headed toward the
+business section of town.
+
+Mr. Jonathan Brent's office was in the Clearfield Trust Company's
+Building, opposite the common. Gordon left his wheel against the curb
+and mounted the flight of marble stairs. A clerk took his name
+doubtfully and indicated a chair for him to sit in while he waited Mr.
+Brent's pleasure. As it happened, although the mill president was a very
+busy man, Gordon didn't have to wait long. Almost at once a buzzer
+sounded, the clerk disappeared, returned, and conducted Gordon through a
+door whose ground-glass pane was marked "Private."
+
+Mr. Brent's office looked out across E Street into the elm-shaded
+greenery of the common. An electric fan made a soft and pleasant
+whirring from the top of the big desk which, until Gordon had crossed
+the room, hid Mr. Brent from view. A chair was set at the end of the
+desk and into this, not very confidently, Gordon lowered himself while
+Mr. Brent, without looking up, ran his eye over a letter in his hand.
+
+Jonathan Brent was a small man, small and narrow, with a lean and
+wrinkled face, shrewd but not unkindly, and a pair of gimlet-like,
+blue-gray eyes. His face was clean-shaven and the grizzled brown hair
+had retreated until the top of his head was as bald and shining as the
+white-enameled newel-post at the foot of the Merricks' stairway. His
+mouth was thin and set in a firm, straight line, a line that never
+altered as, presently, he laid down the paper in his hand and raised his
+gaze to Gordon's.
+
+"Well, what do you want, my boy?" he asked, in a quick but not
+unpleasant voice.
+
+"I came to see you about the athletic field, Mr. Brent," responded
+Gordon. "I heard yesterday that you intend to cut it up for building
+lots, sir."
+
+"Quite right. What of it?"
+
+"Well, sir, you see we've been using it for baseball, and some of us are
+getting up a nine to play this summer, and I wondered if you'd let us
+use it until you got ready to--to build on it."
+
+"Oh! I see. What's your name? Herrick?"
+
+"Merrick, sir; Gordon Merrick."
+
+"Ellis Merrick's boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I know your father. Are you in the High School?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Know my boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I--I went to see him this morning. I thought maybe he would
+ask you for me, but--he----"
+
+Gordon floundered, and a tiny smile moved the corners of Mr. Brent's
+straight lips.
+
+"He didn't care to, eh? Well, Merrick, you're welcome to use the field
+as long as you don't interfere with the engineers or workmen. I believe
+they're going to survey there for the street in a week or so."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Brent."
+
+"All right. I dare say you boys are going to miss that playground."
+
+"Yes, sir, we are. It--it's been a fine place for us."
+
+"Yes. Sorry I can't let you have the use of it longer, but I need the
+ground. I suppose you can find another field without much trouble."
+
+"I think so," agreed Gordon doubtfully.
+
+"You and Morris friends?"
+
+"Yes, sir. That is, we--we know each other pretty well."
+
+"Only pretty well, eh? What's the matter? Don't you like him?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, but--but we don't see each other much."
+
+"Doesn't he like you?"
+
+"I think so. He seems to."
+
+"Did he say anything to you about an automobile, Merrick?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he mentioned it." Gordon began to wish himself away.
+
+"Ever drive one of the things?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Like to?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I guess so. I think it would be fun to--to have one."
+
+"Why doesn't your father get you one?"
+
+"I don't think he could afford it, and, besides----"
+
+"Yes? Besides?"
+
+"I guess he wouldn't think I was--was old enough to run it."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Fifteen, sir."
+
+"Morris is sixteen. Think your father would let you have one if you were
+a year older and he could afford it?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "I don't believe so, Mr. Brent."
+
+"I don't, either. Well, help yourself to the field, Merrick. Glad to
+have met you. Good day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE TEAM ELECTS ITS CAPTAIN
+
+
+There was a full attendance at the organization meeting which assembled
+in the Merricks' front parlor that evening. Besides Gordon himself, Dick
+Lovering, Fudge Shaw, Harry Bryan, who had won his father's consent, and
+Tom Haley, all of whom we have met, there was Lansing White, otherwise
+known as "Lanny," Jack Tappen, Pete Robey, Will Scott, and Curtis
+Wayland. Curtis and Will were inseparable companions. Damon and Pythias
+would have been excellent, if hackneyed, nicknames for the pair. Dick
+had once remarked in his quiet way, when the two chums had appeared arm
+in arm on the ball field: "Where there's a Will there's a Way."
+Thereafter Curtis was called Way, and Dick's pun was handed over to an
+appreciative public in the "Caught-in-the-Corridor" column of _The
+Purple_, the High School monthly. Way and Will were both of an age,
+which was sixteen, both of the same height to a fraction of an inch,
+and, perhaps by reason of having been together ever since they were in
+kindergarten, were so much alike in general appearance, manners, and
+speech that they were always mistaken for brothers and not infrequently
+for twins. Way was a little heavier in build than Will, and had dark
+brown hair, whereas Will's was light. For the rest they were much the
+same, with brown eyes, short noses, and round, freckled faces. Good,
+healthy, jolly, normal boys both.
+
+Pete Robey was fifteen, a lank, dark-eyed fellow, rather diffident and
+quiet. Jack Tappen was only fourteen, but he was big for his years. He
+was not at all diffident. In fact, Jack had a pretty good opinion of
+himself. He was a clever ball player, and, for that matter, did many
+things about as well as the older fellows with whom he associated.
+
+Lansing White, or Lanny, as he was always called, was fifteen. Every one
+who knew him would have assured you earnestly that Lansing White was
+destined for great things. Perhaps they were right. At all events, he
+had the fine faculty of making friends on the instant and holding them.
+There wasn't a kinder-hearted fellow in school, nor one more thoughtful
+of others. If a ballot had been taken for the most popular student,
+Lanny would have won, hands-down, over many a fellow far more prominent
+in school affairs. He caught for the school nine, played a fine game at
+left halfback on the football team, and regularly won his five points in
+each of the sprints at the track meetings with Springdale High School.
+
+In appearance he was rather striking by reason of his hair, which was as
+near the color of ripe flax as hair ever gets, and his eyes which were
+so dark a brown that they looked black. The contrast between light hair
+and dark eyes was rather startling. He was always a little too lean, his
+parents thought, but his leanness was quite healthy and was due,
+probably, to the fact that he was always in training for something.
+
+The nine members of the Clearfield Ball Club sat around the parlor,
+occupying every available chair and couch, and discussed the project
+exhaustively and with enthusiasm. They all agreed that it was the
+bounden duty of someone to humble the pride of those Rutter's Point
+chaps, to whom they had long been in the habit of referring as the Silk
+Stocking Brigade; and they didn't see but what the duty could be
+performed by them as well as by any others. Jack Tappen thought they
+could attend to it a little better than any others, and so declared.
+That point agreed on, they discussed ways and means. Everyone there
+except Fudge and Pete Robey had a High School uniform which it would,
+they decided, be quite permissible to wear. Fudge declared that he would
+buy a uniform, and Pete was sure he could borrow one. Gordon's
+announcement that Dick had been tendered and had accepted the position
+of manager met with acclaim, and Will and Way, in the same breath,
+demanded a speech. Dick declined to address the meeting, contenting
+himself with reminding the turbulent pair that as manager he had the
+power to fine them for misconduct. At which Will and Way, pretending to
+be much alarmed, subsided. It was agreed that every member was to pay
+his own car-fares when the team journeyed from home, and that the
+manager's expenses were to be provided for by an assessment on each of
+one-ninth of the necessary amount. Dick claimed the floor, there to
+state that it would probably not be necessary for the others to provide
+his expenses, and that in any case he would pay his own way unless the
+team journeyed a long distance.
+
+The name of the team was decided on--the Clearfield Baseball Club. Harry
+Bryan was in favor of something with more "snap" to it, something like
+the Clearfield Pirates or the Clearfield Giants, but he was defeated.
+Dick, who had taken the proceedings in hand, then announced that the
+election of a captain was in order, and Tom Haley, Fudge, and Jack
+Tappen nominated Gordon in unison. The others signified approval
+noisily. Gordon, however, insisted on being heard.
+
+"You fellows don't have to make me captain," he protested, "just because
+I started the thing going. It wasn't my idea, anyhow; it was Bert
+Cable's. I'll be captain if you really want me, but I think some of the
+rest of you would be better, and I nominate Tom."
+
+"Nominate all you like," grunted Tom Haley. "I decline."
+
+"I nominate Lanny," said Will Scott.
+
+"Second the nomination!" piped up Way.
+
+"Much obliged, fellows," said Lanny, "but I'd rather not. Let's make
+Gordon captain and not be scared out of it. All in favor make a lot of
+noise!"
+
+There was a lot of noise, a very great deal of noise, and Dick
+laughingly declared Gordon elected. "Speech! Speech!" shouted the
+irrepressible Fudge, beating a tattoo on the hardwood floor with his
+heels.
+
+"Shut up, Fudge! And stop denting the floor with those hob-nailed shoes
+of yours. I saw Mr. Brent this morning, and asked him if we could use
+the field as long as it wasn't wanted for anything else, and he said we
+could. So I propose that if the Point plays us a return game we play on
+our own grounds. Now, about practice. You fellows know we've got to get
+together and have a good lot of real work before we run up against those
+Point fellows. So I say let's have practice every afternoon next week at
+four-thirty. Maybe after next week every other day will do, but we don't
+want to let those silk-sox chaps beat us, and so we've got to practice
+hard. Will all you fellows agree to come to practice every afternoon?
+That doesn't mean Tom, because he's got a lot of work to do, and,
+besides, we don't need him so much. He will come as often as he can. But
+the rest of us ought to get out every day."
+
+"That's right," agreed Jack Tappen. "If we're going into this thing,
+let's go into it with both feet. There's no reason I can see why we
+shouldn't have as good a baseball team as there is in this part of the
+state. We all know the game pretty well----"
+
+"Oh, you right-fielder!" exclaimed Fudge.
+
+"----And most of us have played together this Spring. And with Gordon
+for captain we ought to just everlastingly wipe up the county!"
+
+Loud applause greeted this enthusiastic statement, and Fudge began his
+tattoo again, but was cautioned by a well-aimed pillow which, narrowly
+avoiding a vase on a side table, eclipsed his joyous countenance for an
+instant.
+
+"I guess," said Lanny, "that we can all get out and practice; can't we,
+fellows? In fact, Gordie, it might be a good plan to have it understood
+that any fellow not turning up, without a real, genuine excuse, is to
+pay a fine."
+
+"How much?" demanded Fudge anxiously.
+
+"Half a dollar," suggested Will.
+
+"A quarter," said Jack.
+
+"A quarter's enough, I guess," said Dick. "How about it? Everyone
+agree?"
+
+"Who's going to decide whether the excuse is a good one?" inquired
+Fudge.
+
+"Dick," said Gordon.
+
+Fudge sighed with relief. "All right. Dick's a friend of mine."
+
+"Then Wednesday at four-thirty, fellows," said Gordon, "and bring your
+bats. By the way, there's one thing we've forgotten: We'll have to buy
+balls. Suppose we all chip in a half to start with?"
+
+That was agreed to, and the meeting was served with lemonade and cakes
+and adjourned, everyone departing save Dick, Lanny, and Fudge. These,
+with Gordon, went out to the porch and took possession of the front
+steps. There was a fine big moon riding in the sky, and, since
+Clearfield was economical and did not illuminate the streets in the
+residence districts when the moon was on duty, it had no competition.
+The leafy shadows of the big elm fell across the porch, blue-black,
+trembling as a tiny breeze moved the branches above. Dick leaned against
+a pillar and laid his crutches between his knees, and the others grouped
+about him. Perhaps the refreshments had worked a somnolent effect on
+them, or perhaps the great lopsided moon stared them into silence. At
+all events, nothing was said for a minute or two, even Fudge, usually an
+extremely chatty youth, having for once no observations to offer. It was
+Gordon who finally broke the stillness.
+
+"Some moon," he said dreamily.
+
+"Great!" agreed Lanny. "You can see the man in it plainly to-night."
+
+"Supposing," said Fudge thoughtfully, "supposing you were terribly big,
+miles and miles high, and you had a frightfully huge bat, couldn't you
+get a d-d-dandy swipe at it!"
+
+"You could make a home run, Fudge!" laughed Lanny. "Only you'd have to
+hit pretty quick. Why, if you were tall enough to reach the moon, it
+would be going past you faster than one of Tom's straight ones, Fudge!"
+
+"Quite a bit faster," agreed Gordon. "Still, it would be 'in the
+groove,' and if you took a good swing and got your eye on it you could
+everlastingly bust up the game!"
+
+"I think," replied Fudge, who had literary yearnings, "I'll write a
+story about a giant who did that."
+
+"Well, there are some pretty good hitters among the 'Giants,'" commented
+Dick gravely. Fudge snorted.
+
+"You know wh-wh-what I mean!" he said severely.
+
+"Of course he does," agreed Lanny. "Dick, you oughtn't to poke fun at
+Fudge's great thoughts. Fudge is a budding genius, Fudge is, and if
+you're not careful you'll discourage him. Remember his story about the
+fellow who won the mile race in two minutes and forty-one seconds, Dick?
+That was a peach of a----"
+
+"I didn't!" declared Fudge passionately. "The p-p-printer made a
+mistake! I've told you that a th-th-th-thousand t-t-times! I wrote
+it----"
+
+"Don't spoil it," begged Dick. "It was a much better story the way _The
+Purple_ printed it. Any fellow might run the mile in four-something, but
+to do it under three shows real ability, Fudge. Besides, what's a minute
+or two in a story?"
+
+"Aw, cu-cu-cut it out!" grumbled Fudge. "You f-f-fellows m-m-m-m----"
+
+"You'll never do it, Fudge," said Gordon sympathetically. "I've noticed
+that if you don't make it the first two or three times you----"
+
+"----M-make me tired!" concluded Fudge breathlessly but triumphantly.
+
+"Snappy work!" approved Lanny. "If at first you don't succeed----"
+
+"T-t-try, try again," assisted Gordon. Fudge muttered something both
+unintelligible and uncomplimentary, and Gordon turned to Dick: "How did
+you get on with Mrs. Thingamabob at the Point, Dick?" he asked. "What's
+the kid like?"
+
+"All right. The name is Townsend. They're at the hotel. The boy is
+thirteen and he's--he's a bit spoiled, I guess. There's an older
+brother, too, a fellow about seventeen. He confided to me that I'd have
+a beast of a time with the youngster. His name--the brother's--is Loring
+Townsend. Anybody know him?"
+
+There was no response, and Dick continued:
+
+"He seemed rather a nice chap, big brother did. As for the kid--his name
+is Harold, by the way----"
+
+"Fancy names, what?" said Gordon. "Loring and Harold."
+
+"No fancier than your own," commented Fudge, still a trifle disgruntled.
+"Gordon! Gee, that's a sweet name for a grown-up fellow!"
+
+"Not as sweet as Fudge, though," answered Gordon.
+
+"That's not my n-n-name!"
+
+"There, you're getting him excited again," said Lanny soothingly. "Move
+out of the moonlight, Fudge. It's affecting your disposition. What about
+the kid, Dick? Is he the one you're going to tutor?"
+
+"Yes; he's entered for Rifle Point in the Autumn, and he's way behind on
+two or three things. The worst of it is that he doesn't seem very
+enthusiastic about catching up. I guess I'll have my work cut out for
+me. The big brother told me that I was to take no nonsense from young
+Harold, and that he'd back me up, but--I don't know. I guess Mrs.
+Townsend wouldn't approve of harsh measures. She's trying her best to
+spoil the kid, I'd say. I'm to go over five mornings a week, beginning
+Monday."
+
+"I'm glad I don't have to do it," commented Gordon. "I'll bet the kid is
+a young terror, Dick."
+
+Dick smiled. "He is--something of the sort. But I guess he and I will
+get on all right after a while. And if he's got it in him to learn, he
+will learn," Dick added grimly. "That is, unless his mother----"
+
+"She's bound to," said Lanny. "They all do. Inside of a week she'll be
+telling you that you're working her darling too hard."
+
+"How do you know so much about it?" challenged Fudge. "Anyone would
+think you were a hundred years old!"
+
+Lanny laughed. "I've kept my eyes open, Fudge, sweet child. Mothers are
+pretty fine institutions; no fellow should be without one; but they are
+most of them much too easy on us. And you know that as well as I do."
+
+"Mine isn't," murmured Fudge regretfully. "She's worse than my father at
+making me do things!"
+
+"Oh, well, you're an exceptional case," said Gordon gently. "When a
+fellow shows criminal tendencies like yours, Fudge----"
+
+"Yes, writing stories at your age! You ought to be ashamed!" Lanny spoke
+with deep severity. Fudge only chuckled.
+
+"Some day," he announced gleefully, "I'm going to write a story and put
+you fellows all into it. Then you'll wish you hadn't been so fresh. The
+only thing is"--and his voice fell disconsolately--"I don't suppose, if
+I told what I know about you, I could get it published!"
+
+"Deal gently with us, Fudge," begged Dick humbly. "Remember, we used to
+be friends. I must be getting along, fellows. Coming over to-morrow,
+Gordie?"
+
+"Yes, I'll drop around in the morning. We've got to get busy and send
+out some challenges. Who can we get to play with us, Lanny, besides
+Lesterville and, maybe, Plymouth?"
+
+"I don't know. I think there are plenty of teams, though, if we can find
+them."
+
+"They have a team at Logan," said Fudge, "but I guess they're older than
+we are."
+
+"What do we care?" asked Gordon. "Logan's a good way off, though, and I
+suppose it would cost like the dickens to get there."
+
+"Make them come over here," suggested Lanny.
+
+[Illustration: "'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge"]
+
+"Yes, but then they'd want their expenses guaranteed."
+
+"Look here," observed Dick, "why couldn't we charge admission to some of
+the games after we got started? I dare say quite a lot of folks would
+pay a quarter to see a good game."
+
+"They might," conceded Lanny. "We could try it, anyway. If we could get,
+say, a hundred admissions, we'd have twenty-five dollars, and then we
+could pay the expenses of any team around here. That's a bully idea,
+Dick. As a manager you're all to the good."
+
+"I thank you," replied Dick, setting his crutches under his arms. "We'll
+talk it over to-morrow. You come over, too, Lanny; and Fudge if he is
+not in the throes of literary composition."
+
+"I'll walk around with you," said Lanny. "It's too bully a night to go
+to bed, anyway. Good-night, fellows."
+
+"Good-night," responded Gordon and Fudge. "Good-night, Dick."
+
+They watched the two as long as they were in sight in the white radiance
+of the moon, and then:
+
+"They're two of the finest fellows in the world," said Fudge warmly.
+"And wouldn't Dick be a wonder if he was like the rest of us, Gordie?"
+
+"Y--yes," replied Gordon thoughtfully, "only--sometimes I think that
+maybe if Dick was like the rest of us, Fudge, he might not be the
+splendid chap he is."
+
+Fudge objected to that, but afterward, returning home by way of the back
+fence, he thought it over. "I suppose," he told himself, as he paused on
+his porch for a final look at the moon, "what Gordie means is that
+tribulations ennoble our characters." That struck him as a fine phrase,
+and he made a mental note of it. Still later, as he lay in bed with the
+moonlight illumining his room, he began to plan a perfectly corking
+story around the phrase, with Dick as the hero. Unfortunately, perhaps,
+for American literature, sleep claimed him before he had completed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DICK VISITS THE POINT
+
+
+On Wednesday the Clearfield Baseball Club reported for practice. There
+was a full attendance, with the exception of Tom Haley. Gordon confined
+the hour's work to fielding, however, and Tom's absence was not felt.
+Fudge had purchased a brand-new High School uniform and Pete Robey had
+been lucky enough to borrow one from a boy who had played on the team
+several years before. As the shirts and caps held only the letter "C,"
+there was nothing misrepresentative about the gray uniforms. Of course,
+the fact that the C was purple and that the stockings were of the same
+royal hue might lead one to mistake the team for the High School nine;
+but Gordon had consulted the principal, Mr. Grayson, in the matter, and
+Mr. Grayson had given it as his opinion that, so long as they did not
+pretend to be the High School team, there could be no harm in wearing
+their school uniforms.
+
+Most of the fellows had not played since the final game with Springdale,
+nearly a month before, and were consequently rather out of practice.
+Muscles were stiff, and that first day's work only produced soreness.
+But by Saturday the fellows were pegging the ball around with their
+old-time ginger and running and sliding with their accustomed agility.
+Tom pitched to the batters on Friday, and the result proved that batting
+practice was far from being a waste of time. Even Gordon, who had headed
+the batting list that Spring, found that his eye was bad and that he
+could connect with Tom's easy offerings scarcely better than the
+tail-enders.
+
+Fudge plunged into the business with heart and soul, determined to make
+himself not only a useful member of the outfield but a regular Ty Cobb
+or Home-Run Baker at the bat. I regret to have to state that for some
+time Fudge's fielding was not at all spectacular and that he never--or
+at least never that summer--threatened to dispute Mr. Cobb's supremacy
+with the stick. But they didn't expect great things from Fudge; and as
+time went on he developed a very clever judgment in the matter of fly
+balls and even became able to throw with some accuracy to the infield.
+
+Meanwhile, Dick had entered into correspondence with some half dozen
+baseball teams in not too distant towns, and already a game had been
+scheduled with Lesterville, who, to Dick's surprise and satisfaction,
+offered to pay Clearfield's expenses if it would visit Lesterville.
+Manager Lovering promptly agreed and the date of the contest was fixed
+for the second Saturday following the Rutter's Point game. On Friday
+morning Dick and Caspar Billings again met and completed arrangements.
+Caspar, a boy of Dick's own age, took a great liking to the Clearfield
+manager, and insisted on his staying to luncheon with him on that
+occasion, and it was on the Billings' veranda, within a stone's throw of
+the waves, that the two talked it all over.
+
+Caspar was a fine-looking youth, rather large but well conditioned, with
+dark hair and eyes, a ready smile, and a jovial laugh. He lived in New
+York, but had been spending his summers at the Point for several years.
+Dick met Caspar's mother and two older sisters at luncheon, but Mr.
+Billings was not present, and Dick gathered that he remained in New York
+save for an occasional week-end. When Caspar explained that Dick was
+tutoring Harold Townsend, Mrs. Billings shook her head pessimistically.
+
+"I'm afraid," she said, "you'll find him rather difficult. He isn't
+exactly what I'd call a nice-dispositioned boy."
+
+"Come, mother, don't discourage Lovering at the start," laughed Caspar.
+"We all know that the kid's horribly spoiled, but then Lovering isn't
+going to be a governess to him!"
+
+"I don't want to discourage him, dear, but I thought it only right he
+should know that--well, if he isn't very successful, it won't be
+altogether his fault. Mrs. Townsend is a dear woman, but I can't admire
+the way she has brought up that boy."
+
+"His brother has already warned me," replied Dick, with a smile. "I'm
+prepared for the worst. So far, Harold has behaved very well. He doesn't
+like to study much, but he hasn't--well, lain down in the shafts yet."
+
+"He will, though," laughed Caspar. "And if you don't keep a tight rein
+he will bust the shafts! That brother of his is a nice chap, though. By
+the way, he's going to play first base for us, Lovering."
+
+"Who is your pitcher?" asked Dick.
+
+"I--we aren't quite sure. We expect it will be Mason, but he hasn't come
+yet. If he doesn't show up we'll have to find some one else. You know
+Morris Brent, don't you? He's on the team, too. Then there's Pink
+Northrop and Jim House and Gilbert Chase and Charlie Leary and--let's
+see; oh, yes, Billy Houghton. And Mason, if he gets here in time. How
+many's that? Never mind. I dare say I've forgotten one or two. I guess
+we'll average a year or so older than you chaps, but you have been
+playing together, and I guess that will equalize things. That field over
+behind the hotel isn't the best in the world, but it's not bad in the
+infield."
+
+"What position do you play?" asked Dick, when they were back on the
+veranda.
+
+"Third usually. I'm not particular. I'm not much of a player, but I get
+a lot of fun out of it. I've tried two years running for the team at
+school and haven't made it yet."
+
+"What school do you go to?"
+
+"St. George's. We turn out some pretty fair ball teams there. I'm going
+to try again next Spring. It's my last year, and if I don't make it then
+I'm a goner."
+
+"I suppose you're going to college, though?"
+
+"No; my father doesn't want me to. Says he needs me with him in the
+office. I don't mind--very much. Of course, I'd like to go; 'most every
+fellow I know at school is going. Maybe father will change his mind
+before Spring. What about you, Lovering?"
+
+"College?" Dick shook his head. "I'd like it mighty well, too, but it
+costs too much. Funny how fellows who can go don't care about it.
+There's Morris Brent. His father's crazy to have him go to college. He
+tells Morris he can have his pick of them all. Morris doesn't want to go
+a bit; and he won't, I guess, if he doesn't brace up."
+
+"Exams, you mean?"
+
+Dick nodded. "Morris is always in trouble with his studies."
+
+"His father's a bit of a Tartar, isn't he?" asked Caspar. "I've only met
+him once or twice, but he seemed sort of cross-grained."
+
+"I don't know. I know he and Morris are always at outs about one thing
+or another. Just now, I hear, it's an automobile. Morris wants one, and
+his father says he can't have it. Do you know him very well?"
+
+"Not very. We've seen each other quite a little for several summers, but
+we aren't awfully chummy. I don't quite----" Caspar paused, with a
+puzzled frown. "If he'd forget that his father has a lot of money, he'd
+get on better with fellows here. I like his sister, though. She's an
+awfully nice, jolly kid. And his mother's mighty nice, too."
+
+"Yes, so I've heard. I don't know them. Well, I must get along. We will
+be over here in time to begin the game at three on Saturday, Billings.
+I'll talk to Gordon about the umpire, but I'm pretty sure the chap you
+speak of will be satisfactory to us. Thanks for being so kind. Will you
+say good-bye to your mother and sisters, please?"
+
+"That's all right," replied Caspar warmly. "Hope you'll come around
+often, Lovering. See you Wednesday, anyway." He watched Dick's deft
+manipulation of his crutches anxiously. Finally: "I say, it's a long
+walk to the trolley. Let me take you over, won't you? We have a sort of
+a horse and cart here, and it won't take a minute to hitch up."
+
+"No, thanks; I like to walk," replied Dick, with a smile. "Maybe you
+wouldn't call it walking, though; perhaps I ought to say that I like to
+'crutch.'"
+
+"Call it what you like," responded Caspar heartily, "you certainly do it
+mighty well, Lovering!"
+
+Dick reached the trolley station in ample time for the two-forty-five
+car back to Clearfield, and on the way his thoughts dwelt largely on
+Master Harold Townsend. Master Harold was a good deal of a problem. So
+far, as Dick had told Mrs. Billings, the boy had behaved very decently,
+but Dick knew quite well that it was principally because he was still in
+some awe of his tutor. That awe would soon wear off, for there wasn't
+enough difference in the ages of the two to allow Dick to keep the upper
+hand very long. Then, as Dick realized, there'd be trouble.
+Unfortunately, he could not, he felt, count on the boy's mother to back
+him up, for that lady was lamentably weak where her youngest son was
+concerned. Of course, Dick might keep on drawing his wages all summer
+and nothing would be said, but he didn't intend to do that unless he was
+earning them. And it wasn't going to be an easy matter to earn them as
+soon as Harold got over his present diffidence and the slight enthusiasm
+with which Dick had managed to imbue him. The money meant a good deal to
+Dick, and he hated to think of losing it, but one thing was certain: As
+soon as he failed to make progress with Harold he would quit. Perhaps he
+would find another pupil, he reflected more hopefully, although so far
+only Mrs. Townsend had replied to his application.
+
+Just then, his gaze wandering along the flying landscape, he caught
+sight of a small blue runabout automobile trying desperately to keep
+pace with the trolley car. The road was a good three hundred yards away,
+and it was not possible to make out with any certainty the identity of
+the lone figure in the blue car, but Dick was pretty sure that the
+daring driver was Morris Brent. If so, he had, then, overruled his
+father in the matter, thought Dick. It wasn't like Mr. Brent to change
+his mind, either. In any case, and whoever was driving the runabout,
+that light vehicle was plunging along the none too smooth road at a pace
+that brought Dick's heart into his mouth more than once and attracted
+the concerned attention of all the occupants of the trolley car. Several
+times, as it seemed, the runabout narrowly avoided collision with the
+white fence which ran beside the dirt road, and Dick was heartily
+relieved when, presently, a team approached from the direction of
+Clearfield, and the driver of the automobile, recognizing the futility
+of trying to pass at his present reckless speed, slowed down and was
+lost to sight from the car.
+
+Dick mentioned the incident to Gordon at practice that afternoon, but
+Gordon was unable to say whether Morris had bought the automobile he had
+spoken of. "He said he was going to, though, whether his father wanted
+him to or not. Said he had some money of his own and that Stacey, the
+agent on Oak Street, would wait for the rest. If his father finds it
+out, he will be hopping mad, I'll bet."
+
+"It won't take him long to find it out," replied Dick dryly. "At least
+two dozen persons saw him to-day. Someone's pretty sure to speak of it.
+The idiot was driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!"
+
+"That's the way Morris would drive," said Gordon. "By the way, there's a
+meeting of the Athletic Committee called for next Saturday night in
+Assembly Hall to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says he
+doesn't see how we're going to get a field without paying for it, and we
+haven't any money to do that."
+
+"It's tough luck," replied Dick. "Have they any field in sight?"
+
+"I don't think so. Will said something about a piece of land on the way
+to the Point, near the picnic ground. Do you know what he means?"
+
+"No; but I guess there's plenty of land there. I don't believe it's very
+level. I suppose beggars mustn't be choosers, however."
+
+"I think it's mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that field away from us!"
+said Gordon scowlingly.
+
+"Did you tell him so the other day?" Dick asked innocently.
+
+Gordon laughed. "No, I forgot to! Come on and let's get these fellows
+started. Tom, will you pitch at the net for a while?"
+
+"Shall I tell Billings it's all right about the umpire, Gordie?"
+
+"Yes; we don't care who umps as long as he knows how. If they play us
+again, we'll have the choice then. Now then, fellows, get your batting
+eyes! Don't be too easy with us, Tom. Speed 'em over, old scout!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CLEARFIELD PLAYS THE POINT
+
+
+Clearfield boarded the two-fifteen trolley car on Wednesday and set out
+for Rutter's Point in high spirits. They had intended taking the
+two-o'clock car, but Harry Bryan and Fudge had failed to arrive at the
+starting point on time. Harry claimed business affairs as his reason for
+tardiness, but Fudge's excuse was both vague and involved, and Gordon
+informed him that the next time he failed to be on time he would be left
+behind. Fudge smiled dreamily.
+
+The team in their gray uniforms with purple stockings presented a very
+natty appearance. To be sure, some of the stockings were pretty well
+faded and several of the suits were somewhat stained, but on the whole
+the players passed muster very well. They took possession of the first
+two seats on the car and had a very happy and fairly noisy time of it.
+Dick and Gordon got their heads together over the batting order and
+rearranged it for the third time. When it was finally fixed to their
+liking it was as follows: Bryan, 2b; Scott, 3b; Merrick, 1b; Wayland, l.
+f.; Tappen, r. f.; Robey, ss.; White, c.; Shaw, c. f.; Haley, p.
+
+"We'll try it that way," said Gordon, "and see how it goes. Maybe we'd
+better put Jack after me, though. What do you think?"
+
+"We had it that way, and you thought we'd better change it," answered
+Dick patiently.
+
+"I know, but--but I guess he ought to follow me, Dick."
+
+"Look here," said Dick, with a smile, "who's manager here?"
+
+"You are," replied Gordon, a trifle sheepishly.
+
+"All right. I just wanted to know."
+
+"Then--you think----"
+
+"I think the batting order is going to stay just as it is!"
+
+They reached the field shortly after half-past two, and found a handful
+of spectators from the hotel and cottages already seated in the shade of
+the little row of trees behind the third-base line. The Point team was
+not in evidence, and Gordon quickly distributed his players over the
+diamond and started warming up. Five minutes later the rival team
+appeared by ones and twos, and Caspar Billings sought Dick where he was
+watching the performance of his charges. When Gordon came in from first
+base, Dick introduced the rival captains and they shook hands. Other
+introductions followed, but several of the Point fellows were already
+known to the Clearfield members. Clearfield gave up the diamond to her
+opponents at ten minutes to three, and watched their practice. The Point
+team was not in agreement, it appeared, as to a uniform. Every player
+wore togs of some sort, but at least a half-dozen schools were
+represented, and there were stockings of about every color in the solar
+spectrum in evidence. The umpire was named Vokes, and was a college man
+who was serving as a clerk at the hotel. Gordon decided that while Mr.
+Vokes' sympathies might be with Rutter's Point he was not the sort to
+let them affect his decisions. Also, Gordon reflected, unless he was
+very much mistaken, Vokes knew baseball from A to Z. As it turned out,
+Gordon was not mistaken, and Mr. Vokes' umpiring was perhaps the most
+perfect feature of that far from perfect contest.
+
+Clearfield, as the visiting team, went to bat first. Dick, who had been
+given the Point batting list by a youth who was to score for the home
+team, was relieved to find that Mason was not set down as a pitcher.
+Dick didn't know a thing about Mason, but he somehow had got the
+impression that Mason was something a bit unusual. Evidently he had not
+arrived in time for to-day's game. The pitcher whom the Point presented
+was named Porter. He looked capable and wore a Lawrenceville cap with
+what Dick took to be the second team insignia over the visor.
+
+The Point team averaged perhaps a year and a half more than the visiting
+nine, and was almost entirely composed of players from well-known
+preparatory schools. As, however, they had never performed together
+before as a team, save in one or two desultory practice games with a
+nine made up of hotel employees, Dick had hopes of taking their measure
+to-day.
+
+Some seventy or eighty onlookers were gathered together on the grass
+behind the third base line, prepared to root for the Pointers, when
+Porter delivered the first ball to Harry Bryan. It was a pretty hot
+afternoon, for what breeze there was came from the landward side of the
+sun-smitten field. Two settees had been placed on the first-base side of
+the plate for the accommodation of the visitors, and here Dick and the
+others sat in the full glare of the afternoon sun, Dick perspiring over
+his score book and the rest watching interestedly the behavior of the
+rival pitcher. The field was fairly level about the infield, but further
+out it rolled a good deal and was covered with rough, bunchy grass.
+
+Porter disposed of Harry Bryan without trouble, and Will Scott took his
+place at the plate. Will beat out a slow grounder to shortstop and went
+to second on Gordon's bunt down third base line. But Gordon was out at
+first and Curtis Wayland let the third strike get by him.
+
+Rutter's Point led off with a clean two-base hit by Caspar Billings and
+followed it with a neat sacrifice bunt that placed the captain on third.
+But he died there a few minutes later, for Tom Haley struck out Morris
+Brent easily and made the next man pop up a fly to Pete Robey.
+
+The second inning passed without a score, but in the first of the third,
+after Tom Haley had struck out, Harry Bryan drove a long fly into right
+field and reached second when the fielder misjudged it. Will Scott
+walked and Gordon hit clean past third, Harry scoring the first run and
+leaving third and second occupied. Way went out, second to first. Jack
+Tappen put himself in a hole and then emerged brilliantly with a smash
+that was too hot for the pitcher. Will scored and Jack reached first
+safely. With Gordon on third, Jack tried a steal. To his surprise the
+Point catcher slammed the ball down to shortstop and Jack was caught a
+yard away from base. Gordon scored too late.
+
+But with a lead of two runs things looked bright for Clearfield. The
+Point again failed to cross the platter, although Loring Townsend got as
+far as second. Tom's shoots were too much for the home team. Neither
+side scored in the fourth. When the first half of the fifth began Pete
+Robey was up, and Pete, contrary to expectations, delivered a scratch
+hit and reached the first bag. Lanny flied out to left fielder and Pete
+reached second ahead of the throw-in. Fudge went out on strikes and,
+with Tom Haley up, the inning seemed over. But Tom made his one hit of
+the game, a Texas Leaguer that fell safely behind first baseman, and
+Pete legged it for the plate and arose from the dust triumphant with a
+tally. Tom got to second on the throw to the plate, but Harry was out,
+third baseman to first.
+
+So far Clearfield had played a clean game in the field, but in the last
+of the fifth luck deserted her. A hard smash down the first base line
+put a runner on second. A slow hit to Will Scott should have been an
+easy out, but Will booted the ball and the runner was safe. The next man
+went out on a foul to Gordon, but the following batsman cracked a liner
+between Peter and Harry and the Point scored its first run. With a man
+on third, Lanny declined to throw to second and the runner on first
+worked an easy steal. Then a batsman found one of Tom's straight ones
+and sent it into short center. Fudge made a fine running catch, but the
+best he could do was to field the ball to Harry and Harry's throw to the
+plate was too late to keep the Point from tying the score. Tom settled
+down then and struck out the next batter and the inning was over, with
+the score three to two.
+
+The spectators warmed up then and there was plenty of noise during the
+rest of the game. The sixth inning was uneventful, although both sides
+got men on bases. The Point pitcher was by no means remarkable, and, as
+Gordon complained, his deliveries would have been easy for Clearfield
+had the latter's batsmen been in any sort of condition. As it was,
+though, they found him puzzling when hits meant runs and by the end of
+the sixth he had seven strike-outs to his credit. It was during the last
+half of that inning that a small youth detached himself from the group
+of spectators across the field and walked around to the Clearfield bench
+and seated himself beside Dick. He was a good-looking youngster, as
+brown as a berry, with a pair of big and rather impudent gray eyes.
+
+"Hello," he said.
+
+"Hello," responded Dick, glancing up from his score. "How are you
+to-day, Harold?"
+
+"Fine and dandy," replied that youth easily. "Keeping score?"
+
+"Yes," answered Dick, crediting Harry Bryan with an assist and Gordon
+with a put-out and penciling the mystic characters "2-1 1" in the square
+opposite Pink Northrop's name. "Enjoying the game, Harold?"
+
+Harold Townsend yawned. "I guess so. We're going to beat you fellows."
+
+"Think so?" asked Dick amiably.
+
+"Sure thing. Our pitcher's just getting good now. Bede Porter never
+begins to pitch till the middle of the game. He will have you fellows
+eating out of his hand pretty soon."
+
+"Well, he's pitched a pretty good game so far. Hello!" Dick was gazing
+in surprise at the boy beside him. "What have you done to your hair?"
+
+Harold grinned. "Had it clipped. Mother's so angry she can't see
+straight. She said I wasn't to, but I went down to the barber shop this
+morning before breakfast. Gee, it's fine and cool!"
+
+"Hardly the right thing to do, though, was it?"
+
+"Oh, she'll get over it. Other fellows have their heads clipped in
+summer, don't they?"
+
+Dick evaded the question. "How are you getting on with your lessons?" he
+asked. "Going to be all ready for me Monday morning?"
+
+"I guess so," replied Harold without enthusiasm. "Who's the fellow
+catching for your team, Lovering?"
+
+"Lansing White."
+
+"Gee, that's a good name for him, White. He's a regular tow-head, isn't
+he?"
+
+"Is he? He's a fine chap, though."
+
+"He don't catch as well as Billy Houghton. Look at the way Gil Chase
+stole on him last inning. Say, you keep score dandy, don't you? Isn't it
+hard?"
+
+"Not very, when you're used to it. Would you like to learn how?"
+
+"No, I can do it well enough. It's too much trouble, anyhow. I'd rather
+play. My brother's the best player on our team."
+
+"Better than Caspar Billings?" asked Dick idly.
+
+"Aw, go on! He can't play! Why, Loring's been first baseman on his
+school team for two years. He could be captain if he wanted to."
+
+"That's very nice," said Dick. "Now you'd better scoot along and make
+room for the fellows. That's three out. I'll see you Monday, Harold."
+
+"All right. Don't come if it's too much trouble," replied the boy with a
+grin. "I shan't mind."
+
+"That your pupil?" asked Lanny, sinking on to the bench beside Dick.
+"Looks like a fresh kid."
+
+"He is, rather," replied Dick dryly. "Will, you'd better play further
+in. That fellow House has laid three bunts down the base line and made
+them good twice. You're up, Jack. Pete on deck. Let's have a couple of
+runs this inning, fellows."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BLUE RUNABOUT
+
+
+But although Jack Tappen drove out a two-bagger over shortstop's head
+and Pete Robey got safely to first on an error by the third baseman, the
+next three players went out in order, Lanny on a foul that was pulled
+down by third baseman, Fudge on strikes and Tom Haley on a weak effort
+to second baseman.
+
+Encouraged by the valiant cheers of its supporters, the Point went to
+work in its half of the seventh in a very business-like way. Townsend
+beat out a bunt in front of base, Morris Brent hit safely into short
+left field, advancing Townsend, and Gil Chase sent a hot one through the
+pitcher's box which Tom couldn't handle. With the bases full, things
+looked bad for Clearfield. Tom knocked down House's drive, however, held
+Townsend at third, and worked the first out. Then Leary, after spoiling
+three good ones, fouled out to Lanny, and Clearfield breathed easier.
+But Pink Northrop, although a tail-ender on the batting list, came
+through with a hit that brought shrieks of delight from the Point
+sympathizers and sent two runs across. Billy Houghton trickled a slow
+bunt toward first and the man on third tried for the plate. But Gordon,
+running in fast, got the ball to Lanny ahead of the runner and the side
+was out.
+
+"You're up, Harry," announced Dick. "There's a fine opening for a bright
+young man between third and short. See what you can do."
+
+"I'll try it, but I'm batting pretty punk," replied Harry doubtfully.
+"What's the matter with a bunt, Dick?"
+
+"Nothing doing, Harry. Hit it out. Get to first and try a hit-and-run
+with Will."
+
+But Harry's effort was a weak grounder that bounded nicely into
+shortstop's hands and there was one out. Gordon, behind first, looked
+worried as Will faced the pitcher. But, "Pick out a good one, Will," he
+called cheerfully. "He hasn't much on it."
+
+Will, profiting by the advice, sought to select one to his liking and
+Porter very soon found himself in a hole. The umpire didn't like
+Porter's offerings any better than Will and after six deliveries Will
+walked to first.
+
+"That's the stuff!" cried Jack Tappen, relieving Gordon on the coaching
+line. "He's all in! Whale it out, Gordon! Here we go, fellows!"
+
+Gordon swung viciously at the first ball across and the third baseman
+stepped cautiously back. Then came a wide one that Gordon disdained. The
+next was likewise a ball by a narrow margin. At first Will was dancing
+back and forth and Jack was coaching at the top of his lungs, while from
+behind third Lanny was offering his budget of advice and comment. Porter
+wound up again, Will started for second and Gordon swung his bat. There
+was a _crack_ as ball and bat met, and Will, nearing second, saw Lanny's
+entreating gestures and never paused in his stride.
+
+Out in center field the ball was bounding along the turf and Gordon was
+already rounding first. Luck helped Clearfield then, for just as center
+fielder slackened his pace to get the ball the latter struck against a
+tuft of the coarse grass in front of him and bounded erratically aside.
+At third Lanny waved Will on to the plate. Gordon, pausing a few yards
+past first, took up his running again while the center fielder turned
+and raced back for the rolling ball. When he reached it Gordon was
+sliding to second in a cloud of dust and Will was halfway to the plate.
+The fielder, Jim House, made a beautiful throw, but Will beat it, and
+the best the catcher could do was to hold Gordon on second.
+
+On the Clearfield bench the purple-hosed players cheered and cavorted,
+while on the shady side of the diamond a strange silence held. Way
+tapped the base impatiently with his favorite bat and Harry implored him
+to hit it out. Porter looked nervous for the first time.
+
+"He's up in the air!" shrieked Harry. "Wait for your base, Way. You
+don't have to hit it! He'll pass you! Here we go! Here we go! Here----"
+
+Harry paused only because Way had picked out the first ball offered him
+and had banged it across to shortstop. Gordon scurried to third and Way
+raced toward first. Shortstop got the ball on a low bound, cast a
+hurried look toward third and pelted it across to first. But the throw
+was poor and although first baseman got it he dropped it the next
+instant and the umpire spread his hands wide.
+
+"Watch home!" implored the catcher. But Gordon was taking no chances
+with only one out and contented himself with dancing up the base line a
+few yards to draw the throw. The ball went back to pitcher and pitcher
+and catcher met and held a conference. Gordon spoke to Lanny and Lanny
+nodded.
+
+"Well, I guess we've got them guessing, Harry," he called across.
+
+"Here's where we break it up, fellows!" responded Harry. "On your toes,
+Way! Here we go!"
+
+Porter glanced over his infield, tugged at his cap, hitched his
+trousers, studied the catcher's signal and wound up. But the throw was
+to first and Way was nearly caught napping. Twice more Porter tried to
+clear that base, and then, anticipating a steal, threw out to the
+catcher. But Way hugged first and only grinned, while the umpire
+announced "One ball!" Then a curve went over the corner of the plate and
+Jack Tappen had a strike on him. The Point infield was playing close and
+Jack knew that a bunt would not help any. He let the second strike go
+by, a deceptive drop, and then came the signal from Harry.
+
+"Make it be good, Jack!" called Harry. "Here we go! Here we go!"
+
+Porter wound up again and Way started for second. It was now or never
+for Jack and desperately he glued his eye to the oncoming sphere, swung
+and felt the pleasant tingle that announced that he had hit it! Then he
+was racing for the base. Shortstop had the ball a dozen feet back of the
+base line. Second baseman ran to cover that bag. Perhaps he thought a
+throw to the plate would fail to head off the speeding runner from
+third, or perhaps he had some idea of starting a double play. At all
+events, Chase tossed the ball quickly toward second. It reached there
+simultaneously with second baseman and Way. Second baseman made a grab
+for it and got it, but at that instant Way, sliding into the bag
+feet-foremost, collided with the defender of the sack and the ball
+trickled away in the dust. Gordon slid across the plate, Way was safe at
+second and Jack was grinning from first!
+
+That misadventure was the Point's undoing. Porter went to pieces then
+and there. Pete hit a liner that sent in Way, put Jack on third and
+himself on second; Lanny, enjoined to wait for his base, stood idle
+while the pitcher slammed four balls past him, and then, with the bases
+full, and one out, Fudge, with the score two strikes and two balls,
+resisted the temptation to swing and was presented with his base. Jack
+was forced across for the fourth tally.
+
+Tom, eager to add his mite to the slaughter, hit a beautiful drive
+toward left field and the runners started around. But Caspar Billings
+performed the impossible. Although the ball was at least a yard over his
+head, he knocked it down with his right, spoiling what was intended for
+a two-bagger, and sped it to the plate ten feet in front of Pete, who,
+with the possible exception of Caspar himself, was the most surprised
+youth on the field. Back flew the ball to third, but Lanny had luck with
+him and somehow managed to slide into the bag ahead of Caspar's
+descending arm.
+
+Encouraged, Rutter's Point set about getting the third out, and Porter
+settled down to deceive Harry Bryan. But Harry, realizing that in all
+probability this would be his last time at bat, and seeing what a fine
+opportunity was presented him to write his name on the annals of fame,
+was cautious and watchful. Porter worked a low ball over for a strike,
+followed it with a ball wide of the plate, coaxed him with a slow one
+that failed to entice Harry or please the umpire and then tried to sneak
+a fast one across in the groove. But Harry saw it coming, laid all his
+strength along that slender piece of ash he held and swung! And when the
+excitement was over three more runs had been piled on to Clearfield's
+score and Harry was seated, breathless but happy, on third, having lined
+out a two-base hit into deep center and taken third on the throw to the
+plate. That ended it, however, for Will Scott popped a foul into first
+baseman's hands.
+
+With the score ten to four against them the Rutter's Point team was
+discouraged and beaten. It tried half-heartedly to get a man around in
+the last of the eighth and managed to stop Clearfield in the first of
+the ninth, although some poor base-running on the part of the visitors
+did more than any efforts of the home team to save the plate in that
+inning. And in the last half of the ninth the Point actually got a
+runner as far as third. But there he stayed while the next two batsmen
+fell before Tom's slants and a third sent up a short fly that settled
+comfortably into Pete Robey's hands and brought the game to an end.
+
+Clearfield cheered Rutter's Point, in the intoxication of the moment
+using the regular High School slogan, and Rutter's Point cheered
+Clearfield and bats were gathered up and the two teams started off the
+field. They came together at the corner of the hotel and Caspar called
+to Dick: "We'd like to try you again, Lovering, some time." And Dick
+answered: "Glad to play you, Billings. We'll talk it over soon."
+
+Morris Brent laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pulled him aside. "Say,
+Gordon, I've got my car here. Come on back with me, won't you? I'll get
+you home quicker than the trolley will do it."
+
+"Why, much obliged," murmured Gordon, "but----"
+
+"Oh, come on! I want you to see how dandy it runs."
+
+"I'm not insured," laughed Gordon, trying to pull away from the other's
+detaining hand.
+
+"Oh, pshaw! I won't dump you out. I'll run as slow as you like. Come
+on."
+
+"Well, all right," agreed Gordon without enthusiasm. "Oh, Dick! I'm
+going back with Morris. I'll see you this evening."
+
+Morris led the way toward the pier, where the Clearfield road joined the
+shore avenue, and Gordon saw the blue runabout standing at the side of
+the road. It was a very attractive little car, in spite of the layer of
+gray dust which sullied the shining varnish.
+
+"Isn't she a peach?" demanded Morris. "And go! Say, I went nearly forty
+miles an hour in her the other day!"
+
+"Yes," replied Gordon dryly, "Dick saw you, I guess. He said you were
+racing with the trolley."
+
+"Oh, shucks, not that time! I was only doing about thirty then. I had to
+slow down for a team. You ought to have seen me the other morning on the
+Springdale road. That was going some, I tell you!"
+
+"Well, if you try any thirty mile stunt to-day I'll fall out the back of
+it," warned Gordon.
+
+"I won't. Wait till I start it. All right. In you get. Pretty
+comfortable seats, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes," agreed Gordon as the runabout swung around in the dusty road and
+headed toward Clearfield at a moderate speed. "Does--does your father
+know about it?"
+
+Morris chuckled. "No, not yet. I don't want him to, but I suppose some
+busybody will tell him."
+
+"Bound to," said Gordon. "Especially if you do such spectacular stunts
+as you did the other day. Folks on the trolley, Dick said, expected to
+see you go off the road any minute."
+
+"Pooh! Folks who don't drive autos always think that. Why, you're just
+as safe in this thing as you are in the trolley. Safer, I guess.
+Remember when the car jumped the track year before last and killed six
+or seven people?"
+
+"Yes, but I'll take my chances with the trolley," replied Gordon. "There
+it goes now. I wonder if the fellows caught it."
+
+"Sure. Anyway, we'll soon see. I can catch that trolley as though it was
+standing still!" Morris pulled down his throttle and the little car
+bounded forward with a deeper hum of its engine. Gordon grasped the arm
+of the seat beside him.
+
+"Never mind!" he exclaimed. "I don't care whether they did or not,
+Morris! Pull her down!"
+
+Morris obeyed, laughing. "Shucks," he said, "that wasn't fast. We were
+only going twenty-five or six miles an hour."
+
+"How do you know?" grumbled Gordon, relaxing his grip.
+
+Morris indicated the speedometer with his foot. "That thing tells you,"
+he explained. "Watch the long hand. We're doing sixteen now. I'll hit
+her up a bit. There, see the hand move around?
+Twenty--twenty-two--twenty-four----"
+
+"That'll do, thanks! And for the love of mud, Morris, keep her away from
+this fence!"
+
+"Why, there's five feet there," protested the driver.
+
+"Y-yes, but the old thing wabbles so it gives me heart failure!"
+
+"You just think it does," returned Morris. "I can keep her as straight
+as an arrow if I want to."
+
+"Want to, then, will you?" laughed Gordon uneasily. "And--and here's
+another car coming, Morris. Hadn't you better slow down a little?"
+
+"Say, you're an awful baby," commented the other. But he lowered the
+speed of the car still further and, to Gordon's relief, hugged the fence
+pretty closely while a big gray touring car shot by them in a cloud of
+dust. Morris turned a speculative, admiring gaze on it as it passed.
+
+"Thirty-five easily, she's making," he said. "Some day I'm going to have
+one like that. These little cars are all right to knock about in, but
+they're too light to get much speed out of."
+
+"How fast do you want to run, anyway?" grumbled Gordon. "Isn't twenty
+miles an hour fast enough?"
+
+"You wait till you run one and you'll see," laughed Morris. "Why, twenty
+miles will seem like standing still to you!"
+
+"It's fast enough for me," sighed Gordon. "Besides, this road is so
+rough that--_Morris!_"
+
+But Gordon's cry was too late. There was a bump, a crash, the sound of
+splintering wood, and----
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ACROSS THE GULLY
+
+
+Gordon raised himself on one aching elbow and looked dazedly about him.
+Up the bank a dozen feet away lay the blue runabout on its side, one
+forward wheel--or the remains of it--thrust through a broken panel of
+the white fence that guarded that side of the road. A cloud of dust
+still hovered above the car, proving to Gordon that the accident had
+happened but the moment before. If it was not for that he could well
+have imagined that he had lain huddled up in a clump of bushes halfway
+down the steep bank for some time. His head was spinning wildly and he
+felt horribly jarred and bruised. But a tentative effort to get to his
+feet, while it was not successful because of dizziness, showed that at
+least he had no limbs broken. A second effort, made when the clouds had
+stopped revolving overhead like a gigantic blue-and-white pin-wheel,
+brought him staggering to his feet.
+
+Strangely enough, it was not until he stood swaying unsteadily on the
+bank that he remembered Morris, or, rather, that he felt any concern for
+him. Anxiously then he looked about on every side. But no Morris was to
+be seen. Gordon called in a weak and shaky voice. There was no reply.
+Summoning his strength, Gordon crawled slowly up the side of the
+declivity, pulling himself by bushes and grass-tufts until at last he
+was clinging limply to the fence rail. There he leaned for an instant
+and closed his eyes. He felt very much as if he was going to faint, and
+perhaps he would have had he not at that moment, just as he seemed about
+to go off into a deliciously fearsome black void, heard the sound of a
+low groan.
+
+Gordon pulled himself erect, opened his eyes and tried to look about,
+but the sunlight was frantically hot and glaring and the dusty road and
+the helpless hulk of the overturned auto danced fantastically before
+him. It was a full minute before he dared attempt to again lift his head
+and look. Even then sight was uncertain. But he realized that the
+groans--he heard them quite plainly now, low and monotonous--came from
+the further side of the car. He squirmed through the stout rails and
+stepped dizzily out into the road. Then he saw Morris.
+
+He lay half in and half out of the car, one arm stretched from him in
+the dust and the other caught between the spokes of the steering wheel.
+Evidently the wheel had saved him from being thrown out as Gordon had
+been, but the latter, gazing with horror at the white face that seemed
+crushed against the dirt of the highway, surmised that it would have
+been better for Morris had he too been hurled over the fence. The
+dreadful thought that Morris was killed assailed Gordon, only to be
+banished by the comforting knowledge that dead folks don't groan.
+
+Gordon cast despairing looks up and down the road. Not a team or person
+was in sight. Then he knelt by Morris and spoke to him. But only low,
+unconscious moans answered him. Panic-stricken for an instant, Gordon
+gazed helplessly, his wits quite deserting him. Then common-sense
+whispered and he drew a deep breath of relief and seized Morris under
+the shoulders. Tug as he might, though, he could not budge the limp
+body. Then he saw why. Morris had evidently started to leap from the car
+and had got his left leg over the side when the car struck. Now that leg
+was imprisoned with the whole weight of the runabout upon it. Again
+Gordon looked along the highway for assistance, but, as before, the road
+stretched in either direction empty and deserted. Off toward town a
+cloud of dust hovered, but whether it indicated an approaching vehicle
+or a farmer's wagon moving slowly toward Clearfield there was no
+knowing. Gordon set his lips firmly, striving to close his ears to
+Morris' groans, and tried to think what to do. Perhaps if he could find
+water he could bring Morris back to consciousness, but what use to do
+that so long as the boy was pinned there under the car? No, the first
+thing to do was to set him free, and Gordon strove to think of a way to
+do it. He didn't believe for an instant that he was capable of lifting
+that car and at the same time pulling Morris' leg from beneath it. In
+fact, he doubted if he was strong enough to raise the weight of it. To
+make certain, however, he tried. It did move a little, he thought, but
+there was no question of raising it. Then he recalled seeing
+automobilists lifting their cars with jacks to put on new tires. If
+Morris had a jack----!
+
+In a moment he was struggling with the cover over the box at the rear of
+the seat. It was jammed at one corner and it took him a full minute to
+wrench it open. When he finally did, however, the lifting jack was the
+first thing he saw. It was a small contrivance, scarcely a foot high,
+and Gordon viewed it doubtfully as he hurried with it around to the
+side. Morris' leg was held down at the ankle by the edge of the
+turning-board and there was barely space between the ground and the side
+panel of the car in which to slip the jack. But it went in finally and
+Gordon began to work the handle. There was a heartening click as the
+cogs slipped into place and a cracking of frame and varnish as the car
+slowly rose. Bit by bit it went and at last Gordon pulled the imprisoned
+leg out. And not an instant too soon, for there was a lurch, the jack
+toppled sideways and the car settled back again in the dust, a forward
+wheel spinning slowly around.
+
+Gordon turned Morris over on his back, placed a seat cushion, which had
+toppled out, under his head and again viewed the road anxiously. In the
+distance the dust cloud had disappeared and the road was still empty. He
+groaned with disappointment and exasperation. Usually a half-dozen
+vehicles would have passed in the ten minutes that had elapsed. To-day,
+because Morris' life perhaps depended on getting him to a doctor, not
+one appeared! Gordon again thought of water and looked around him. Only
+dry hillside met his gaze on one side and only the equally dry gully
+separating road from trolley track on the other. But sight of the track
+gave Gordon an idea. The cars ran every quarter of an hour or so and if
+he could somehow get Morris down the bank, across the wide gully and up
+the slope on the other side it would be only a matter of a few minutes
+to town. But the distance was a good two hundred and fifty yards, he
+calculated, and Morris was no light burden. And, to increase his
+difficulties, he himself was in poor shape to make the effort. There was
+nothing else for it, however, and Gordon hurried to the fence and viewed
+the descent. A little further along was a place where the bank had at
+some time loosened and fallen in a miniature landslide and toward that
+spot Gordon was presently making his way.
+
+He tried carrying Morris in his arms, but after the first few yards he
+had to give up. Instead, he took him by the wrists and dragged him as he
+might have dragged a sack of potatoes. It was hard work getting him
+through the fence, but easier when that obstacle was negotiated, for the
+descent helped. At the bottom of the bank it was necessary to worm in
+and out between bushes, while briars caught at him and tripped him as he
+toiled backward toward the further side of the gully. Twice he stopped
+to regain his breath and mop his streaming face. And it was while he was
+taking his second rest that a buzzing, humming sound came to him from
+the direction of town, a sound that grew louder even while he turned to
+look. Far down the track, visible here for a half-mile, came one of the
+big trolleys, swaying from side to side and eating up the rails in its
+rapid flight. There was but one thing to do, and Gordon did it.
+
+Dropping Morris' wrists, he set off at a run for the track. Once he
+tripped and measured his length in the briars, but he was up again in
+the instant, while, almost at hand as it seemed, the buzzing and
+throbbing of the rails sounded. When he finally reached the foot of the
+bank it seemed that he had not enough strength left to climb it. But
+climb it he did, somehow, with toes digging into the loose gravel and
+hands clutching at the infrequent tufts of grass or weeds. And when he
+reached the top and the side of the track the plunging car was almost up
+to him.
+
+He knelt there on the edge of the embankment and waved his arms,
+shouting at the top of his exhausted lungs. A screech from the whistle
+sent its warning and then the big car was hurtling past him, the
+motorman casting a puzzled, indifferent glance as he shot by and the few
+passengers turning inquiring faces toward the boy crouched beside the
+track. Dust enveloped him and a great despair crushed him, and he did
+what was perhaps the one thing that could have stopped the car. He
+crumpled up in a heap at the ends of the ties and then rolled, slowly at
+first and then gaining momentum as he went, down the gravel slope into a
+clump of bushes at the bottom.
+
+The conductor, who had leaned outboard at the warning shriek of the
+whistle, had seen the boy and had kept his eyes on him as the car had
+gone past. "Some kid wants to get on," he explained to a passenger
+beside him on the rear platform, "but there's no stop here." Then his
+hand flew to the bell-cord. Boys didn't crumple up like that and go
+rolling down embankments for the fun of it! With a loud grinding of
+brakes the big car came shivering to a stop a hundred yards along the
+track. The conductor tugged again at the cord and slowly the car crept
+backward. By that time the passengers were on their feet and the
+conductor was hanging over the steps. Then he had dropped and was
+plunging down the embankment in a cloud of dust and a cascade of loose
+gravel, the passenger on the platform following more carefully.
+
+Gordon was already struggling to his feet when they reached him, and
+somehow he made them understand that some thirty yards away lay the
+unconscious form of Jonathan Brent's son. After that events were very
+hazy and confused to Gordon. Kindly hands pulled and lifted him up the
+embankment and into the car, where he subsided weakly on a seat. Voices
+asked questions and he tried to answer them. Someone caught sight of the
+overturned automobile and there was much pointing and much exclaiming.
+And then three men came toiling across the ground below with Morris and
+others slid and stumbled down to help them, and almost at once the big
+car was pounding back the way it had come, its strident whistle
+shrieking above the hum of the rails in an incessant warning and alarm!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE
+
+
+That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter's Point car ever made, and
+almost before Gordon realized that town had been reached, and certainly
+before he had fully recovered from his experiences, the big yellow-sided
+car was coming to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was but
+two short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged and frantic whistling had
+summoned a knot of curious persons to the corner as the car trundled
+around the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to bear the
+still unconscious form the remaining distance.
+
+Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly. Someone had sped
+ahead and when the little throng reached the house anxious faces were
+already at the doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the men who had
+carried Morris inside returned to linger about the door and await the
+doctor's verdict. The latter reached the gate a minute later, and,
+leaping from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag swinging
+briskly.
+
+There was a long wait after that. The accident was discussed in low
+voices by the small gathering outside and Gordon was forced to go
+through his story again. Presently he left the front steps and wandered
+around to the side of the house. From an upper window came the low
+mutter of voices. Near at hand was a rustic seat, placed against the
+wall of the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with a big sigh
+of relief. Inside the house a telephone bell rang shrilly. Footsteps
+hurried. The voices in the room upstairs still came indistinctly through
+the open window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he ought to
+be at home. His father would be angry with him if he was late for
+supper. But he didn't want to go until he had heard whether Morris was
+going to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable in the corner
+of the rustic seat and he would just close his eyes a minute----
+
+Someone was shaking him gently and calling "Gordon! Wake up!" He
+stretched and opened his eyes. "Yes'm," he muttered sleepily. But it
+couldn't be morning, for it was almost dark and--and where was he? He
+sat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until his
+roaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent
+bending above him. "Oh!" he said, recollection coming to him.
+
+"Have you been here all the time?" asked Louise. "You poor boy!"
+
+"I--I must have fallen asleep," admitted Gordon sheepishly. "How--how is
+he, Louise?"
+
+The girl's face went suddenly serious in the twilight. "He's pretty
+badly hurt," she said. "One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly,
+Gordon."
+
+"Is that all?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"They think so. Seems to me it's quite enough, though."
+
+"Of course, only----" Gordon heaved a sigh of relief--"I was afraid he
+was dying. He--he looked so awfully!"
+
+"Yes, didn't he?" Louise shuddered. "He is still unconscious, but Doctor
+Mayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must have
+had an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how it
+happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?"
+
+He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly.
+Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now.
+
+"But I think you were splendid," said the girl warmly. "To think of
+stopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully
+scared and--and everything. And wasn't it a wonder you weren't hurt
+too?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had been
+thrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I
+think."
+
+"I don't see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the--that
+thing you spoke of," she said admiringly. "Goodness, I'd have been so
+frightened I'd have just cried!"
+
+"I guess I'd better be going home," said Gordon.
+
+"Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven't had any supper, have you? I
+wish I'd found you here before."
+
+"I don't believe I want any," he murmured. "I--I'm mighty glad he isn't
+hurt any worse. I'll come around to-morrow if you don't mind and see how
+he is."
+
+"Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon."
+
+"I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn't he?" asked Gordon.
+
+"He's too upset and anxious now to be angry," replied Louise. "But I
+suppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all the
+time that he shouldn't run that car. It was horrid of him to get it
+without letting anyone know."
+
+"I guess he's got his punishment," replied Gordon grimly. "A broken leg
+will keep him laid up a long time. I'm awfully sorry for him.
+Good-night, Louise."
+
+It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was in
+reality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under the
+electric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper and
+Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity.
+
+"Well, Gordon, where have you been?" he asked.
+
+"Over to the Point, sir. I--we----"
+
+"I think I have told you fairly often that I do not like you to be late
+for your meals?"
+
+"Yes, sir," assented Gordon wearily.
+
+"Exactly. It is now--hm--nearly eight o'clock. I think you had better go
+up to your room. You don't deserve supper at this hour. And--hm--after
+this kindly give a little consideration to my wishes."
+
+"Yes, sir." Gordon wanted to tell him what had happened, but he was
+frightfully tired and the thought of getting upstairs and into his bed
+was very alluring. Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation was at an
+end by again hiding his face behind the newspaper and Gordon went
+indoors and quietly climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his mother
+would not hear him. But she did, and came out of her room with the
+secrecy of a conspirator.
+
+"Gordon, dear," she whispered, "your father was very angry and said you
+were to have no supper, but I put a little something on a plate for you.
+It's on your bureau. You shouldn't stay out like this, though, dear.
+Your father doesn't like it and--and it makes me worried, too."
+
+"Yes'm, I won't again," replied Gordon. "I--I'm not very hungry, though.
+I'm going to bed."
+
+"Aren't you--don't you feel well?" inquired Mrs. Merrick anxiously.
+
+"Yes'm, I'm all right. I just feel sort of tired. Good-night." He kissed
+her and went on up the second flight. Half-way up, though, he paused and
+called down in a hoarse whisper: "Thanks for the eats, ma!"
+
+In spite of his weariness, sleep didn't come readily. It was a hot,
+still night and, although his bed was drawn close to the two windows
+that looked out into the upper branches of the big elm, not much air
+penetrated to his room. He lay for a while staring out at the motionless
+leaves, intensely black in shadow and vividly green where the light from
+the big arc on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents of the
+day. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn't dangerously hurt, grateful
+for his own escape from injury and sorry that Morris would have to lie
+abed for many weeks while his broken leg knit together again. Finally he
+dozed off only to awake in a terror, imagining that he was riding in an
+automobile that was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and deep
+that the bottom was miles away! He awoke shaking and muttering and it
+took him several seconds to reassure himself and throw off the effects
+of the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until he remembered
+the plate on the bureau. He got up and brought it back to bed with him,
+and leaned on one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken and
+bread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But he wasn't really
+hungry and his appetite was soon satisfied. He put the plate on the
+floor beside him and settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nine
+and a moment later the town hall clock sounded the hour sonorously. Then
+the telephone in the first floor hall rang sharply and he heard his
+father's chair scrape on the porch and his father's feet across the
+hall.
+
+"Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?..."
+
+Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing he knew someone was
+pushing open his bedroom door cautiously and asking if he was awake.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Gordon.
+
+Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the bed. "Time you were
+asleep, son," he said concernedly. "Having trouble?"
+
+"I--I've been asleep once, sir. Something wakened me."
+
+"Hm. Er--I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the telephone, Gordon."
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"Hm. He told me about the accident, son."
+
+"Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?"
+
+"Doing very well, he said. Why didn't you--hm--why didn't you tell me
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. I was sort of tired, and----"
+
+"Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile to the trolley,
+Gordon."
+
+"It wasn't nearly that far. And I didn't carry him. He was too heavy.
+I--I pulled him."
+
+"Well, the doctor says it's a lucky thing you got him home as quick as
+you did. Mr. Brent is--hm--very grateful. He's going to stop in the
+morning and see you."
+
+"He needn't be," murmured Gordon. "It wasn't anything."
+
+"Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm--I'm sorry I was so
+short with you, son. If you'd explained----"
+
+"Yes, sir, I ought to have. It--it's all right, dad."
+
+"Well, but--if you're hungry, Gordon----"
+
+"I'm not, sir. I--no, sir, I'm not."
+
+"If you are I guess you and I can forage around and find something. Sure
+you wouldn't like a little bite?"
+
+"No, sir, thank you."
+
+"Well--hm----" Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pressed it.
+"Sorry I scolded, son. I--we--we're proud of you, boy."
+
+Gordon didn't answer. It was rather embarrassing and he was glad of the
+darkness.
+
+"Good-night, Gordon."
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunching
+china and an exclamation.
+
+"What's this?" asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
+
+"It--it's a plate, sir. Mother--that is----"
+
+"Hm," said Mr. Merrick, and then again "Hm!" He pushed the broken
+fragments under the bed. "I--hm--I can understand that you aren't very
+hungry," he said dryly. "Evidently your mother--hm--well, good-night,
+Gordie."
+
+The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond the
+window. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn't his father would
+never have called him Gordie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+GORDON BEARS A MESSAGE
+
+
+Gordon was up at seven the next morning, having had, as he reckoned, a
+good nine hours and more of sleep. At breakfast he told again the story
+of the accident, this time to an interested audience of three. The third
+was Fudge, who, since almost an hour before, had been hanging around
+waiting for Gordon's appearance, and who now was seated at table with a
+cup of coffee and one of Mrs. Merrick's graham muffins in front of him.
+Fudge acknowledged that he had rather skimped his breakfast. Mr. Merrick
+mildly censured Gordon for accepting Morris Brent's invitation to ride,
+but it was evident that he was too proud of Gordon's part in the affair
+to be severe. Fudge was anxious to know what had become of the runabout
+and Gordon replied that so far as he knew it was just where they had
+left it.
+
+"I guess," he said, "it's pretty badly smashed up. I know one wheel has
+about all the spokes out of it, and I think the axle is busted. Still, I
+dare say it can be mended."
+
+"B-b-bet you Morris will never run it again, though," said Fudge. "Guess
+it's a good chance for someone to buy an auto cheap. Wish I could!"
+
+"Why, William!" murmured Mrs. Merrick. "The idea!"
+
+"Oh, a fellow doesn't have to run it the way Morris did," replied Fudge
+knowingly. "Tim Turner's father has had a car for two years and he's
+never had an accident yet."
+
+"Why don't you see Mr. Brent?" suggested Gordon. "I dare say he will let
+you have it for almost nothing."
+
+Fudge thrust a hand in a pocket and gravely counted the change he drew
+out. "If he'll let me have it for sixty-three cents I'll take it," he
+said.
+
+Mr. Merrick pushed back his chair. "If I ever hear of either of you
+riding in an automobile without permission I'll see that you get what
+you deserve," he said grimly.
+
+Fudge grinned. "You'd have to catch me first," he said.
+
+Gordon announced his intention of running over to see Dick and his
+father reminded him that Mr. Brent was going to call. Gordon replied
+evasively that he guessed Mr. Brent had changed his mind. He secretly
+hoped that he had. But when, after Mr. Merrick's departure for his
+office, Gordon wheeled his bicycle down the steps he saw Mr. Brent
+coming along the street, his ivory-topped walking-stick thumping the
+pavement briskly. Escape was impossible and so Gordon leaned his wheel
+against the gate post and waited. Fudge melted into the background. Mr.
+Brent was about the only person Fudge was in awe of.
+
+"Well, my boy," greeted Mr. Brent, "you got off lucky."
+
+"Yes, sir. I'm awfully sorry about Morris. How is he?"
+
+"Better than he deserves," replied Mr. Brent with a snap of his jaws.
+"The doctor tells me it will be six weeks or more before he will be on
+his feet again. I suppose he was running the thing like mad, wasn't he?"
+
+"No, sir, he was going quite slowly. I don't know just how it happened,
+Mr. Brent. I think there must have been a bad place in the road."
+
+"Of course it wasn't his fault," said the other dryly. "Well, it was a
+merciful thing he had you with him, my boy. His mother and I are very
+grateful to you, Merrick. You did a very plucky thing."
+
+"It wasn't anything," muttered Gordon, looking longingly at his wheel.
+Perhaps Mr. Brent saw that he was more than willing to avoid further
+expressions of gratitude, for he smiled and said:
+
+"Well, that's all. I wanted to see you and thank you. And as I told your
+father last night I'm ready and anxious to prove my gratitude to you. If
+there's anything I can do, Merrick, you call on me."
+
+"Thank you, sir, but I guess there isn't anything."
+
+"Perhaps some day there will be. When that time comes don't forget what
+I say, Merrick. I wish you'd stop in at the house to-day or to-morrow
+and see Mrs. Brent. She wants to see you, my boy. And after Morris gets
+where he can talk to folks I'd like you to pay him a visit too. He
+doesn't deserve it, but--well, I guess he's in for a long, hard siege of
+it."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will. I--I was going to call to-day and ask after him, but
+now that I know how he is----"
+
+"Better go just the same. My wife is anxious to tell you how she feels
+about it, Merrick. She can do it better than I can, too. Your father at
+home?"
+
+"No, sir, he's gone down town."
+
+"That's where I ought to be. I waited around for the doctor to call. By
+the way, Merrick, there's something you can do for me if you will. See
+this man Stacey and get him to take that automobile away from there. If
+I talk to him I'll fly off the handle and tell him what I think of him.
+I don't care what he does with the thing. He may burn it up or fix it up
+or anything he likes, but you tell him from me that he will never get
+another cent in payment. Will you do that?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I'll see him right away. I guess the car will be worth quite
+a good deal after it's fixed up. I mean, sir, I don't think Mr. Stacey
+will be out much."
+
+"I don't care if he is," replied Mr. Brent grimly. "Morris tells me he
+paid three hundred and fifty dollars and owes about two hundred more. He
+will never get it. You tell him so. If he wants to sue, let him. I wish
+he would!" Mr. Brent flicked angrily with his cane at a spray of leaves
+that peeked through the fence. "Well, I'll be grateful if you'll attend
+to that for me, Merrick. Good morning."
+
+After Mr. Brent had gone Gordon summoned Fudge with a whistle and that
+youth sauntered around from the back yard. "I guess Stacey will be mad,"
+he commented when Gordon had told him of the commission he had accepted.
+"I'll go along with you. I like a scrap."
+
+"There isn't going to be any scrap," said Gordon. "I'll just tell him
+what Mr. Brent says and come away."
+
+"All right. Wait till I get my wheel."
+
+Mr. Stacey's place of business was on Oak Street, a smart shop with two
+big plate-glass windows behind which were displayed shining new
+automobiles. The proprietor was a small man under thirty who affected
+brilliant neckties and a jovial smile. But the smile faded when Gordon
+delivered his message. Mr. Stacey looked angry and ugly.
+
+"Is that so?" he demanded truculently. "Old Jonathan Brent said that,
+did he? Well, you tell him I hold Morris' note for two hundred and
+thirty-five dollars and I mean to collect it. Why, that car's no good to
+me, son! What would I do with it? It isn't mine, anyway. I sold it
+fairly and squarely. If he wants me to fetch it in and have it repaired
+I'll do it and charge him only what it costs, but as to taking it back
+and calling quits--nothing doing, son. You tell him that, see?"
+
+"It isn't my affair," replied Gordon calmly. "I've only told you what
+Mr. Brent asked me to. Why don't you talk to him about it?"
+
+"Because I haven't any dealings with him. I sold that car to his son. If
+he wants to talk to me let him come here or call me up on the telephone.
+It's nothing to me. I've got Morris Brent's note----"
+
+"It isn't worth anything," piped up Fudge, who found proceedings dull.
+"He isn't old enough to give a note."
+
+"We'll see whether he's old enough," was the answer. "I'll go to court
+with it if it isn't paid prompt. Get me?"
+
+"Sure. But Jonathan Brent's a bad man to fight, I guess," said Fudge
+with a shake of his head. "I wouldn't want to do it."
+
+"Maybe you wouldn't." Mr. Stacey had to smile in spite of himself. "But
+I would--if I had to. I'm not in this business for my health, son. You
+tell Mr. Brent that if he wants me to haul that car in and repair it
+I'll do it, but I won't take it back."
+
+"All right," answered Gordon. "Seems to me, though, you could fix it up
+for a few dollars and have a perfectly good car."
+
+"There's no market here for second-hand cars," replied the dealer
+shortly. "Tell you what I will do, though. I'll fix that car up as good
+as new as cheap as it can be done and take it on sale. Maybe I'd find a
+buyer for it."
+
+"You mean you'll let Morris off on the balance he owes?"
+
+"No, sir, I don't mean anything of the sort! I mean that he's to pay
+what he owes when it comes due. If I can sell the machine he'll get what
+it fetches, less my commission of twenty per cent. Understand?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell Mr. Brent what you say," agreed Gordon. "But I don't
+believe he will be willing to have it that way."
+
+"There's no other way he can have it," snarled Mr. Stacey. "He may have
+a heap of money and own this town, but he don't own me! And he can't
+cheat me out of what belongs to me, either! And you can tell him so! You
+tell him that if that two-thirty-five isn't paid by the tenth of October
+I'll sue for it."
+
+"Think of him suing Mr. Brent!" chuckled Fudge as they went out.
+
+"I guess he'd have a pretty good case, though," said Gordon. "Of course
+Morris _does_ owe that money to him."
+
+"Pshaw, Morris' note isn't worth a cent."
+
+"Maybe not; I don't know about that; but he's morally liable, isn't he?"
+
+"I guess so. Going to tell Mr. Brent now, Gordie?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "Not--not right away. I think I'll see Dick
+first. I told him I'd be over last night."
+
+Fudge chuckled again. "You're scared," he said. "I'd be, too. Tell you
+what, Gordie; tell him over the 'phone, why don't you?"
+
+"I was thinking of letting you tell him, Fudge."
+
+"Me! Gee, I wouldn't d-d-do it if he g-g-gave me the car!"
+
+They found Dick on the porch. "Hail to the Hero!" he declaimed.
+
+"Shut up!" said Gordon.
+
+"Modesty is very becoming," pursued Dick. "Hello, Fudge. I'm glad to see
+you in such distinguished society. Sit down, Gordie, and tell me about
+it. First, though, how's Morris getting on? Lanny told me that he was
+pretty well broken to pieces."
+
+"He's got a busted leg. Broken in two places. That's all. He was
+unconscious when they brought him home, but he's all right that way now.
+There isn't much to tell. We were coming along that stretch where the
+white fence is and----"
+
+Gordon went through with it again, Fudge interpolating details where
+Gordon failed to do full justice to the narrative. Afterward Gordon told
+about his visit to the automobile agent. "I don't know what to do," he
+ended. "I hate to tell Mr. Brent what that fellow said, Dick."
+
+"I don't see why. It isn't your fault. Besides, Mr. Brent is in the
+wrong, anyway. It's Morris' duty to pay what he owes. The dealer isn't
+supposed to find out before he makes a sale whether the buyer's
+relatives want him to own a car!"
+
+"That's all very well," grumbled Gordon, "but he will be as mad as a
+March hare. I don't see why he got me to do it for him, anyway."
+
+"Because you've made a hit with him," laughed Dick. "I believe if you
+asked for it you could get a yearly pass over the trolley line. And
+speaking of trolleys reminds me that I've got to hustle over to the
+Point and get busy with young Mr. Townsend. What time is it?"
+
+It was almost ten, and Dick seized his crutches and swung himself
+hurriedly into the house to reappear a minute later ready for the
+journey. Gordon and Fudge walked to the corner with him.
+
+"How about another game with those fellows, Dick?" asked Gordon. "Are
+you going to see Billings to-day?"
+
+"If you want me to. There's time enough, though, I guess. We've got a
+game with Lesterville the day after to-morrow, as you perhaps recall."
+
+"I know, but I was thinking we might get the Pointers to come over and
+play us a week from Saturday. You might see what Billings thinks about
+it."
+
+"All right. If I can find him I'll ask. By the way, he'll have to find
+someone to take Morris' place, won't he? Guess, though, it won't be hard
+to do. Here comes my car. See you later, fellows."
+
+Gordon and Fudge mounted their wheels again when the trolley had rolled
+off and pedaled leisurely along Sawyer Street.
+
+"Too bad," observed Fudge, "that Dick hasn't got that automobile,
+Gordie. It would save him a lot of hard work, wouldn't it? Say, someone
+may run off with it if it stays out there on the road much longer. Bet
+you half of it's gone already!"
+
+There was no reply from Gordon, who was riding slowly along with his
+gaze fixed intently on his handle-bar.
+
+"You ought to have hidden it behind a tree or something before you came
+away, Gordie."
+
+"Eh? Hidden what?"
+
+"The automobile, of course. Say, what did you think I was talking about,
+anyway?"
+
+"I guess I didn't hear you," replied Gordon apologetically. "I--I was
+thinking."
+
+"Some day you'll be doing that and get run down by a trolley car,"
+commented Fudge crushingly. "What were you thinking about?"
+
+"Nothing much," answered Gordon. "Want to play some tennis?"
+
+"My racket's busted. I can borrow Lanny's, though. But I guess it's too
+hot for tennis, isn't it?"
+
+"Maybe. I suppose, anyway, I'd ought to see Mr. Brent and tell him what
+that fellow said. There's no use putting it off. Will you come with me?"
+
+"Not to speak of! I'd do most anything for you, Gordie, but not that!"
+
+"Well, ride down town with me. You needn't go in."
+
+"That's fair. And I'll try to catch you when he drops you out the
+window. Come on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+FUDGE SCENTS A SECRET
+
+
+Mr. Brent was not in. The clerk, recognizing Gordon as the youth who had
+called previously and been admitted, explained, in answer to his look of
+perplexity, that Mr. Brent had been suddenly called to New York and
+would be gone at least overnight.
+
+"He didn't leave any message for me, did he?" asked the boy.
+
+"No. He went away hurriedly. If it's very important, you can reach him
+in New York by telephone this afternoon."
+
+Gordon departed, shaking his head. On the sidewalk he was presently
+joined by Fudge, who came out of Castle's drug store, a few doors away,
+with a suspicious moistness about the mouth.
+
+"You're soon back," he said. "Did he throw you out?"
+
+"He's away. Gone to New York. Now what'll I do?"
+
+"Do nothing. That's easy. I should think you'd be tickled to death."
+
+"But that automobile can't stay out there on the road forever, Fudge.
+Someone will steal it or pull it to pieces or something. I guess I'll go
+over to the Brents' and see what Louise thinks we'd better do."
+
+"Huh! What's a girl know about it?" demanded Fudge. "Say, I had a soda.
+Want one?"
+
+Gordon shook his head at first but finally allowed himself to be
+conducted to the front of the long white marble counter. A nice cold
+raspberry phosphate is an awfully good thing to soothe the mind, and
+Gordon felt more cheerful when he emerged. Fudge, who had followed his
+original root beer with a pineapple phosphate, confided to Gordon on the
+way home that he believed he'd apply at Castle's for a job at the soda
+fountain.
+
+"You see," he explained, "I never had enough soda yet, and if I worked
+there I'll bet I'd have a dandy time!"
+
+Gordon postponed his call at Brentwood until after dinner and in the
+meanwhile presented his problem to his father. Mr. Merrick's advice was
+caution. He thought Gordon had best let the automobile alone unless he
+obtained authority from Mr. Brent or perhaps Mrs. Brent to rescue it.
+When he reached Brentwood he asked for Louise and that young lady soon
+joined him. Morris, she reported, was very comfortable, considering the
+fact that his left leg was in a cast, but the doctor didn't want him to
+see anyone quite yet. Gordon was secretly relieved, for he was afraid he
+wouldn't know just how to behave or just what to say to an invalid.
+Louise led the way to the porch and then disappeared in search of her
+mother. When that lady appeared Gordon had to listen to many nice things
+and many expressions of gratitude, all of which embarrassed him
+horribly.
+
+Mrs. Brent was a short, comfortably stout lady with soft, quiet manners
+and a voice to match. Gordon liked her immensely, but just now he found
+himself wishing that he might have escaped her. It was Louise who,
+noting his unhappiness, finally came to his rescue.
+
+"There, mama, you're embarrassing Gordon awfully. I'm sure he doesn't
+want to be thanked any more. Besides, he didn't come to make a social
+call; he's here on important business. He told me so."
+
+Gordon explained the difficulty about the abandoned automobile and asked
+them what he had better do. "You see," he pointed out, "Mr. Stacey won't
+go after it unless someone tells him to. I was thinking that perhaps the
+best thing would be to have one of the liverymen bring it back and keep
+it until Mr. Brent decides about it."
+
+"Well, I don't know what to say," replied Mrs. Brent. "If Mr. Brent says
+he won't pay the man the rest of the money, why, he won't, and that's
+all there is to that. But, of course, the automobile can't stay on the
+road. I suppose, Louise, we oughtn't to worry Morris with it just yet."
+
+"Goodness, no! What does it matter what happens to the horrid old thing,
+anyway, mama? Let someone bring it into town and keep it. I'm sure
+Morris will never want to see it again, even if papa is willing; and of
+course he won't be."
+
+"Then if Gordon will see to it----"
+
+"Yes'm, I will. I'll get Stewart to go after it. I guess he can pull it
+if he puts a timber under the broken wheel. There wouldn't be room in
+your stable for it, would there?"
+
+"Yes, there would," replied Louise. "There's lots of room in the
+carriage-house. Tell Stewart to bring it here, Gordon."
+
+"All right. That would be the best thing, I guess. Stewart would
+probably charge storage for it if he kept it at his stable. I suppose he
+will want quite a little money to haul it in, too."
+
+"Tell him to charge it to papa, Gordon. Do you mind attending to it?
+It's awfully nice of you to take so much trouble for us. You'll begin to
+think we're a pretty bothersome family, I'm afraid."
+
+"I don't mind at all. I'm glad to, Louise. I wish you'd remember me to
+Morris, please. I--I'll call and see him some time after he's able to
+have visitors. Is there anything I can do for him, Mrs. Brent?"
+
+"I think not, Gordon. You've done so much already----"
+
+"I couldn't have done any less," murmured Gordon hurriedly, fearing that
+Mrs. Brent was about to express her gratitude again. "Folks--folks made
+more of it than it--really amounted to. I guess I'll go and see Stewart.
+I hope Morris will get along finely and--and everything."
+
+"I suppose," he said, after he had bade good-bye to Mrs. Brent, "you
+won't get over to the Point for some time, Louise."
+
+"No, not for a month, probably. I don't mind a great deal. The main
+thing is to get Morris well again. It's going to be terribly dull and
+stupid for him, Gordon."
+
+"Fierce!" They had paused at the gate. "If there's anything I can do, or
+anything any of us can do, Louise----"
+
+"Not now, but you can do a lot later," she replied smilingly. "You can
+come and see him and cheer him up in a day or two. Will you?"
+
+"Of course! Glad to! And I'll bring the other fellows, too."
+
+"I guess there aren't very many others, are there?"
+
+"Many others?" he asked.
+
+"Many others who would care to come, I mean. Morris doesn't seem to have
+very many boy friends, does he?"
+
+"Why, I don't know. I guess every fellow likes Morris----"
+
+"Fibber! Never mind, though. You come when you can, Gordon. Good-bye.
+I'll tell Ryan to get a place ready for the automobile."
+
+His way to Stewart's stable led him past Lanny's house and he slowed
+down as he reached the gate and whistled. Lanny appeared from around the
+house with a bicycle chain dangling in his hand.
+
+"Come on over to Stewart's stable with me," commanded Gordon.
+
+"Can't." Lanny exhibited the chain. "Chain's busted. I've been trying to
+fix it, but I think I'll have to take it to the shop."
+
+"Bring it along, then, and we'll walk. I'll stick my wheel back of the
+fence here. I've got something I want to talk to you about."
+
+"All right. Wait till I get some of this dirt off my hands. It won't
+take a minute." As a matter of fact, it took five, and Gordon was
+established comfortably on the horse-block in front of the gate when
+Lanny returned. Together they went on along B Street and turned into
+River Street, talking very earnestly all the way and more than once
+pausing stock-still on the sidewalk. Whatever the subject of
+conversation was, it was easy to see that Lanny was both interested and
+enthusiastic, and at last, just before their halting progress landed
+them outside the livery stable, Lanny clapped a hand on Gordon's
+shoulder.
+
+"It's a peach of a scheme!" he declared. "Does he know anything about
+it?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "I just thought of it awhile ago, after I'd seen
+him. I don't think we'd better say anything to him about it, Lanny,
+because he'd probably refuse."
+
+"That's so. The best way is to go ahead and do it--and tell him
+afterward." Lanny chuckled. "The other fellows will have to know,
+though."
+
+"Yes, but we'll make them promise not to talk. Gee, if I don't hurry
+that automobile will stay out another night, I guess!"
+
+But fortunately Mr. Stewart had a truck and horses that could be at once
+dispatched on the errand and the two boys waited while the expedition
+made ready. Mr. Stewart himself, a good-natured little red-faced
+Scotchman, proposed to accompany the truck and personally superintend
+the project. Afterward Gordon went with Lanny to the bicycle repair shop
+and waited while a new link was put in the broken chain. Later in the
+afternoon they mounted their wheels and, with Fudge, who had joined them
+meanwhile, rode over to the back entrance of Brentwood and awaited the
+arrival of the automobile. It came about half-past five and was rolled
+into a corner of the big carriage-house. Then Gordon and Lanny and Fudge
+took stock of injuries. One wheel was smashed and the front axle was
+bent. It didn't require an expert to determine that much. For the rest,
+barring a broken lantern and bent fenders and a dent in the radiator,
+the car was as good as new so far as they could see.
+
+"I wish I knew enough about cars to try it and see if the engine is all
+right," said Gordon. "But I don't see how anything can be wrong there,
+do you?"
+
+"No, I guess the wheels will go around same as before," said Lanny. "How
+much do you suppose it will cost to fix it up?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "Maybe thirty dollars," he said finally. "What do
+you think?"
+
+"Bet it will be nearer a hundred," said Fudge. "Repairs on automobiles
+cost like anything."
+
+"Fudge knows," remarked Lanny. "His repair bills are something
+frightful, aren't they, Fudge? Why, he was saying just the other day,
+Gordie, that he had half a mind to sell two or three of his cars!"
+
+"Th-that's all right," sputtered Fudge. "I've heard Mr. T-T-Turner say
+th-th-that----"
+
+"Of course you have," agreed Gordon soothingly. "By the way, Lanny,
+heard the latest? Fudge is going to get a job with Castle at the soda
+fountain."
+
+"That s-s-s-s-so?" laughed Lanny.
+
+"Yes. Can't you see Fudge, with a white apron on, leaning across the
+counter asking, 'What kind of s-s-s-s-soda will you have, Miss?'"
+
+"'S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,'" responded Lanny.
+
+"'S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we're all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla. We've got
+s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate, though.'"
+
+"Oh, dry up," said Fudge, with a grin. "If you fellows come around there
+I'll p-p-poison you!"
+
+"Well, come on, fellows, it's supper time," said Lanny. "Don't you take
+that car out and go 'joy riding,' Mr. Ryan."
+
+"Huh!" growled the Brent coachman, who had viewed the proceedings with
+deep pessimism. "I wouldn't touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How
+do I know it won't be blowin' me up some fine night?"
+
+"It won't if you treat it kindly," Fudge assured him. "Give it plenty of
+oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and a drink of gasoline now and then and it'll
+be as quiet as a lamb."
+
+They left the coachman muttering over the harness he was cleaning and
+got on their wheels. "Who will you get to look at it?" asked Lanny as
+they rolled homeward.
+
+"I don't know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I'll have to talk with
+Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I guess. And maybe it won't come to
+anything."
+
+"What won't?" asked Fudge suspiciously.
+
+"Never you mind, son. It's something that doesn't concern little boys."
+
+"Go on and tell me," begged Fudge. "Is it a secret?"
+
+"It wouldn't be if you knew it," answered Gordon unkindly.
+
+"I'd like to know when I ever blabbed anything," exclaimed Fudge
+indignantly. "Didn't I know all about Charlie Matthews a whole week
+before anyone else did? And didn't I----"
+
+"Well, we may tell you some time," teased Gordon. "What do you think,
+Lanny?"
+
+"I guess so. It would cost money to advertise it in the paper, and
+so----"
+
+"Oh, you make me tired," growled Fudge. "I don't want to know it anyway.
+'Tain't anything, I'll bet!"
+
+"Not a thing, Fudge," agreed Lanny.
+
+"Then what you so--so mysterious about?" Fudge demanded.
+
+"To arouse your curiosity, Fudge. Good-night, Gordie. Maybe you'd better
+tell him before he busts up. Good-night, Fudge. Say, we play Lesterville
+Saturday, don't we?"
+
+"You bet! And don't forget practice again to-morrow. We want to beat
+those fellows."
+
+"Well, we've got a perfect record so far," laughed Lanny. "Our
+percentage is one thousand. Played one, won one, lost none. Are the
+Pointers going to play us again?"
+
+"Sure! I told Dick to see Caspar Billings to-day if he had a chance and
+see if they'd come over here a week from Saturday."
+
+"That's good. Bet you, though, they lick us next time. So long."
+
+Lanny sped homeward and Gordon and Fudge parted midway between their
+gates. "You come over after supper, Fudge, and I'll tell you what that
+is we were talking about."
+
+"Thanks, but I guess I don't care to know," replied Fudge a trifle
+haughtily. Gordon laughed.
+
+"Don't be a chump. We were only fooling. All the fellows are going to
+know about it, but I'll tell you first if you'll come over."
+
+"You told Lanny first," Fudge objected doubtfully. "But--I'll come."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A REVERSED DECISION
+
+
+Two days later the Clearfield Baseball Club met at the railroad station
+shortly after dinner time and boarded the train for Lesterville. Only
+Harry Bryan was missing. A press of business had developed at the
+grocery store and Mr. Bryan had, to Harry's sorrow, set his foot down on
+a Saturday holiday. A small youth named Tim Turner, a youthful crony of
+Fudge's, was drafted to play in right field and Jack Tappen was moved to
+second in Harry's place.
+
+None of the fellows was very hopeful of beating Lesterville, for the
+neighboring mill town had maintained for several years a nine which
+averaged fully two years older than Clearfield. But, as Dick pointed
+out, the game would be fine practice, even if they were beaten. "We
+really need," said Dick, "to run up against a spanking good nine and see
+how the game is played."
+
+Some of the fellows hooted at that, but Dick only smiled. "That's all
+right," he replied. "I'll wager that you'll learn one or two tricks
+to-day worth knowing."
+
+"What's their pitcher like?" inquired Fudge anxiously.
+
+"They have two of them, Fudge, and they're both pretty good."
+
+"They won't be hard for Fudge," said Pete Robey. "Fudge will eat 'em
+alive!"
+
+"Bet you I make as many hits as you do," responded Fudge eagerly. "Come
+on, now! Wh-wh-what do you say?"
+
+But Pete only grinned and shook his head. You couldn't start an argument
+with Pete.
+
+On the way to Lesterville Dick exhibited a list of games which he had
+already arranged. Rutter's Point was to play a return contest on the
+High School field a week from to-day, Logan was to visit Clearfield the
+following Wednesday and Corwin was to come a week later. "We have next
+Wednesday open," explained Dick, "and a week from Saturday. I don't
+believe we'll be able to find a game for Wednesday, but I've written
+Shirley at Springdale to get up a team to play us that Saturday. I've
+told him we'd go over there."
+
+"Fine!" exclaimed Tom Haley. "I'd love to have another chance at those
+fellows!"
+
+"Well, I suppose it won't be quite the same team that we played last
+month," said Dick. "I dare say some of their fellows have gone away for
+the summer. But that gives us three games anyhow, and perhaps four. And
+I heard of a team over at Locust Valley which may like to play us."
+
+"All those games are at home, too," reflected Lanny. "How about trying
+that scheme to charge admission, Dick?"
+
+"No harm in trying it," returned the manager thoughtfully. "Whether it
+will go or not we'll have to see. We could get a few notices printed and
+stick them around in the windows down town. And I guess the paper will
+announce the games if we ask."
+
+"A lot of folks will pay a quarter to see a good game," said Jack
+Tappen.
+
+"Would you?" challenged Gordon.
+
+"Sure," laughed Jack, "if I had the quarter!"
+
+"Not if he could find a crack in the fence," said Fudge.
+
+"Look here," announced Will Scott, "someone said they were surveying the
+athletic field, Dick. Suppose they start to work there in a day or two.
+We couldn't play those games, could we?"
+
+"In that case we'll play the teams on their own grounds."
+
+"It makes it pretty expensive," objected Way. "I'm nearly broke now. If
+I lose my return ticket someone will have to pay my fare back."
+
+"Oh, the walking's good," replied Tom carelessly.
+
+"Another thing," said Lanny. "If we play away from home we can't make
+any money."
+
+At that most of the fellows observed each other with questioning and
+somewhat dismayed glances. Dick, studying his list, replied:
+
+"That doesn't make much difference, does it? None of those places are
+far away and it won't break us to pay trolley fares. After all, we don't
+need the money as far as I see."
+
+"Don't we!" exploded Jack. "We need it like anything!"
+
+Curtis Wayland kicked him on the ankle and Jack subsided.
+
+"What for?" asked Dick, mildly surprised. "We've got four balls that
+haven't been used and three that are still good. We've got bats and
+gloves and a mask and about everything else. I thought we were in this
+for the fun of it. What do we want to make money for?"
+
+But Jack only mumbled, while the others regarded him with threatening
+looks. Will Scott changed the subject gracefully.
+
+"You fellows don't want to forget that there's a meeting to-night about
+the new field. You'd better all show up. We want to get as many there as
+possible."
+
+"Thought it was just a meeting of the committee," said Gordon.
+
+"No, it's public. We want to find out what the fellows think about it
+before we go ahead and do anything."
+
+"I don't see that there's more than one thing we can think about it,"
+observed Tom. "The old field's going and we've got to have another.
+That's dead simple."
+
+"Yes, but we may have to rent ground," replied Way. "And we want to know
+how far out of town fellows are willing to go. And how much we ought to
+pay."
+
+"And whether to get a place on the town side or across the river.
+There's a field over toward the Point, right near the car line, that
+might do."
+
+"That's a long way from school, though," objected Fudge.
+
+"Any place we find is going to be a long way," replied Will. "There
+isn't any place in town big enough to play baseball on. As a matter of
+fact, the whole thing is a good deal of a puzzle. It's going to cost us
+a lot of money, any way you look at it. We've got to have a new track
+and we've got to fence the field in and move the grandstand to it. It's
+going to cost like sixty. I wish old man Brent had to make us a present
+of the old field or lose his money."
+
+"Stingy old codger," muttered Fudge.
+
+"There's no sense in blaming Mr. Brent, Fudge," said Dick. "We ought to
+be grateful to him for letting us have the field as long as he has. What
+we'll have to do is get subscriptions from the graduates and anyone else
+we can. The next station is ours, fellows. Get your bags together."
+
+Lesterville was an unlovely town filled with smoking chimneys and the
+busy whirr of looms. A muddy canal intersected it and on either side
+immense brick mill buildings ran for the better part of a mile. But the
+boys didn't tarry long in the town. A green trolley car bore them
+swiftly away from the belching chimneys and the hot, weary looking
+streets and out to the edge of the country. The ball ground was
+surrounded by a sagging fence and was ridiculously small. A long hit
+down the right or left foul line was certain to go over the fence, while
+even a good clout into center was likely to disappear through some hole
+in the rotting boards. A few unsheltered seats were clustered close to
+the first base line and these were already occupied when the Clearfield
+team arrived. The dressing-room was a ten-foot square space, unroofed,
+thrown together behind the stand. As the fellows changed into their togs
+the spectators on the top row of seats looked down upon them and offered
+sarcastic advice and rude comments. Fudge in particular aroused their
+humor and he was pestered so that he got his playing shirt on wrong side
+to.
+
+The Lesterville nine was a pretty husky aggregation. Most of them were
+mill employees and their average age must have been fully eighteen. The
+audience was particularly partisan and offensive, and Dick, settling
+himself on the visitors' bench in the broiling sun and opening his
+score-book, reflected that it was perhaps well that there was no
+likelihood of Clearfield going home with the ball. He fancied that the
+hundred or so local sympathizers would make it quite uncomfortable for
+the visiting team if it won!
+
+There's no necessity of following Clearfield's fortunes that afternoon
+in detail. The contest was fairly featureless up to the eighth inning.
+The visitors could do nothing with Moriarity, the Lesterville pitcher,
+only three hits, one of them distinctly scratchy, accruing to their
+score and bringing in but one tally. On the other hand the home team
+showed itself very capable with the stick and Tom Haley's best offerings
+were not puzzling after the second inning.
+
+A slight attack of stage-fright in that round on the part of Clearfield
+aided the home players. Almost every member of the visitors' infield
+managed to make an error, while Tom's wild throw to first in the third
+allowed Lesterville to add two runs to her already swelling score. When
+the eighth inning began Lesterville had nine runs to Clearfield's one,
+and there seemed no reason to suppose that the final tally would be any
+more complimentary to Clearfield.
+
+Dick had predicted that his charges would learn some new tricks and his
+prediction was verified. Clearfield was the innocent victim of several
+plays quite outside her ken. Unfortunately, most of them were the sort
+she didn't care to emulate. For instance, when Curtis Wayland tried to
+steal second on Jack Tappen's lucky grounder into short right he failed
+for the simple reason that second baseman and shortstop occupied the
+base line and Way had to crawl around them to touch the bag.
+Unfortunately, by that time right fielder had sped the ball to
+shortstop, and the umpire, a young gentleman whose impartiality had all
+along been in grave doubt, ruled Way out. Of course Clearfield
+protested. Way lost his head and threatened bodily injury to the second
+baseman, who topped him by six inches, and some dozen or so Lesterville
+youths flocked to the scene. Gordon, however, lugged Way, protesting
+bitterly, from the field and then quietly asked the umpire to reverse
+his decision. But the umpire wouldn't even listen and there was nothing
+for the visitors to do but swallow their indignation and accept the
+ruling. Again, earlier in the contest, the Lesterville pitcher objected
+to having a new ball thrown to him after Lanny had fouled a soiled one
+into the street, and turning, threw the new one far into center field.
+The center fielder refused to go after it and the umpire yielded,
+throwing out another old ball.
+
+Still, Lesterville did show some playing that the visitors opened their
+eyes at. Such base-running Gordon's team had never witnessed. One
+red-headed youth named Myers never failed to steal second yards ahead of
+the ball and on one occasion stole all the way around the bases,
+reaching home on Tom's wind-up and subsequent hurried and wild pitch.
+The Lesterville fellows were born ball players and had graduated from
+the back lots outside the factories. They knew every trick of the game
+and used them all.
+
+When Clearfield went to bat in the eighth it was Jack's turn with the
+stick and Jack connected with a straight one and slammed it far out into
+left field, where it banged against the fence and rolled away from the
+fielder while Jack reached second with time to spare. Tim Turner fanned,
+Pete Robey worked a pass and Lanny hit into what should have been an
+easy double. But the Lesterville second baseman fumbled the ball and the
+bases were full. Unfortunately, with one out, it was Fudge's turn at bat
+and Tom Haley followed Fudge. It looked to the visitors on the bench
+very much like another shut-out. But Fudge, perhaps still smarting under
+the gibes that had been thrown at him all the afternoon, surprised
+himself and everyone else by hitting cleanly between first and second.
+Two runs came in, Lanny reached third and Fudge stood panting on first.
+Tom Haley went out on strikes and Will Scott came to bat. Fudge stole
+without challenge. Will fouled off three and had two balls to his
+credit. Then something that looked good came his way and he swung at it
+mightily. The ball streaked far out into center field and the bases
+emptied. Will got to second safely, heard the frantic cries of the
+coachers and sprinted for third. Then in came the ball to shortstop, and
+that youth turned quickly and pegged to third. The sphere went fully
+four feet above third baseman's head and Will legged it home while his
+team-mates on the bench shouted and cavorted and Dick, being unable to
+jump around, beat the ground with a crutch!
+
+Nine to seven looked a heap better than nine to one, and there was still
+but one man out. Clearfield had ecstatic visions of a victory. But the
+Lesterville pitcher settled down and disposed of Gordon with five
+pitched balls and made Way pop up an easy fly to right fielder, and the
+eighth inning was over for the visitors.
+
+Lesterville came back in her half with vigor and poor Tom was kept
+dodging liners that soon filled the bases. But the home team had a
+streak of bad luck in that inning. The runner from third was struck by a
+streaking liner that was meant for left field, and, fortunately for the
+opponents, the ball, after colliding sharply with the base-runner's leg,
+rolled toward the pitcher's box and Tom scooped it up and got it to
+first ahead of the batsman, who, counting on a two-base hit, had made a
+slow start. Lesterville resented her ill-fortune and, with two gone, the
+next batsman sent a long fly into left field that barely escaped going
+over the fence and had Way chasing around like a chicken with its head
+off while two tallies were added to Lesterville's nine. A moment later
+Tom secured his fifth strike-out of the contest and the teams changed
+sides.
+
+There was still a chance to win, declared Dick, and Jack was instructed
+to lay down a bunt along third base line. Jack followed instructions
+deftly and to the letter. The ball trickled a scant ten feet and,
+although third baseman came in for it and both catcher and pitcher did
+their best, Jack was easily safe. Young Turner, instructed to sacrifice
+Jack to second, did his best but struck out miserably for the fourth
+time. Pete got the signal for a hit-and-run play and swung at the third
+ball. He missed it, but the Lesterville catcher, who so far had been
+pegging the ball to second with deadly aim, threw low and before the
+shortstop had secured the ball Jack was sprawled in the dust with one
+foot on the bag.
+
+Pete, with two strikes against him, was wary. Twice he spoiled good ones
+by fouling and then he was caught napping and retired to the bench with
+trailing bat. With two down the game looked to be over. But Lanny
+evidently thought otherwise, for he hit the first delivery squarely on
+the nose and Jack leaped away for third. The ball sped high toward
+center and although second baseman made a gallant attempt to get it, it
+went over his head. Jack turned third and streaked for the plate. The
+center fielder, however, had come in fast and now the ball was flying to
+the catcher. Lanny sped to second on the throw-in. Ten feet away from
+the home plate Jack hurled himself feet-foremost through a cloud of
+dust, rolled over the base and out of the way just as the ball settled
+into the catcher's mitt. The umpire spread his hands wide to signify
+that the runner was safe, but the catcher turned fiercely on him.
+
+"He never touched it!" he bawled. "Look at where he went!" He indicated
+a mark far back of the plate.
+
+"Who didn't touch it?" demanded Jack, scandalized and indignant. "I
+rolled over it!"
+
+Players ran up excitedly. The umpire hesitated, glanced from the
+belligerent catcher to the astounded Jack, shook his head and said:
+"He's out!"
+
+"_What!_" shrieked Jack.
+
+"Sure you're out," said the pitcher with a grin. "You didn't go anywhere
+near the plate. Beat it, kid!"
+
+Gordon grabbed Jack's arm and hustled him toward the bench, pursued by
+the laughter of the Lesterville players and the gibes of the spectators,
+crowding off the stand. At second Lanny got to his feet and tramped
+morosely in to the bench.
+
+"I was all over the plate!" Jack was declaring fiercely. "He's a
+robber!"
+
+"Of course you were," agreed Gordon soothingly. "He knows it, but he's
+scared of the bunch. Never mind, it's all in the day's work, Jack."
+
+"I tell you I was safe!" sputtered Jack. "What do you want to quit for?
+Why don't you make them play it out?"
+
+"No good, Jack. Shut up and change your things. We've got to hustle for
+the train."
+
+Just then the Lesterville captain walked up to Gordon. "Say," he said,
+"we'll play you fellows again some time if you like. You put up a good
+game, all right, Merrick."
+
+"Thanks, I dare say we can get together again," replied Gordon not
+overly enthusiastic. "I'll let you know."
+
+"Next time we'll have a decent umpire," cried Jack, pausing on his way
+to the dressing shed. "That man's a thief!"
+
+"Aw, don't be a baby," growled the opposing captain. "You were out all
+right enough. I saw the play, didn't I?"
+
+"I don't care whether you did or not. I was perfectly safe. I crossed
+the plate before the ball ever got to him!"
+
+"What if you did, kid? You didn't touch it. That ump is all right. The
+trouble is you can't take a beating. Chase yourself."
+
+Jack was fighting mad then and pushed his way back, but Gordon and some
+of the others seized him, while the stragglers from the audience
+clustered around, eager for trouble.
+
+"Jack, you get out of here," directed Dick sternly.
+
+"Like fun I will! That big chump can't tell me----"
+
+"Just one more word and you'll be suspended!" Dick spoke very quietly.
+Jack stared open-mouthed, his gaze traveling from the derisive face of
+the Lesterville captain to the stern countenance of the Clearfield
+manager. Gordon and Lanny still held him firmly. He swallowed hard,
+rewarded Dick with a baleful glare and said:
+
+"Go ahead and suspend! You're a peach of a manager, anyhow, to stand
+around and let those robbers swipe the game on us! You----"
+
+But Gordon and Lanny hustled him promptly through the throng at that,
+the crowd dissolved and the field emptied. In spite of Jack's protest
+the game was recorded: Lesterville, 11; Clearfield, 7.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JACK IS SUSPENDED
+
+
+They talked it over on the way back in the train and the consensus of
+Clearfield opinion was that, taking into consideration the indisputable
+fact that the umpire had been against them all through the game, the
+final score was nothing to be ashamed of. Only Jack failed to subscribe
+with any enthusiasm to that verdict. Jack frankly sulked.
+
+Dick called Gordon over to his seat after the discussion had waned and
+the fellows had quieted down. "Who," he asked, moving his crutches to
+make room for Gordon, "can we get to take Jack's place?"
+
+"To take Jack's place?" exclaimed Gordon. "Why, what's the matter with
+Jack?"
+
+"I thought you understood that he was suspended," replied Dick calmly.
+"I certainly gave him a fair warning."
+
+"But--but--" blurted Gordon in bewilderment, "you can't do that!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Gordon stared. Finally, "Are you in earnest?" he asked.
+
+"Of course. I'm manager of this team. And while I'm manager the fellows
+have got to behave. Jack was all wrong. He had no business talking like
+that. In the first place, it wasn't up to him to protest the decision.
+In the next place he might have got us into a nasty row with those
+toughs over there. They were dying for a scrap all along. If they had
+started anything we'd have got pretty well mussed up, Gordie."
+
+Gordon nodded. "I know," he said gloomily, "but--Jack was excited, Dick.
+And it _was_ a robbery. You can't blame him for getting a bit hot about
+it."
+
+"I don't. I blame him for showing it, or, at least, proclaiming it. If
+I'm manager, I'm going to manage. If I can't manage, I'm not manager.
+Which is it?"
+
+"Why, you're manager, of course, Dick. But--Jack won't like being
+suspended. In fact, he will probably get mad and quit altogether."
+
+"I don't think so," replied Dick. "But that's his look-out. He's
+suspended for a week--if I'm manager."
+
+"All right," muttered Gordon. "Of course, you realize that leaves us in
+a hole next Saturday, Dick. Jack's one of our best players, and I don't
+know where we'll find anyone to take his place."
+
+"Neither do I yet. But we've got a whole week to find someone. He'd be
+suspended, though, if he was the last player on the team."
+
+"Are you going to tell him?" asked Gordon uneasily. Dick smiled.
+
+"Evidently you don't care to?"
+
+"I surely don't."
+
+"Yes, I'll tell him. He ought to know it, though, because I usually mean
+what I say. You needn't mention it to anyone to-day. I'll have a talk
+with him to-morrow, maybe."
+
+"He'll quit flat-footed," mourned Gordon. Dick smiled again.
+
+"I don't believe so. I think I know Jack a little better than you do,
+Gordie."
+
+The next afternoon, an hour or so after dinner, Dick called Gordon on
+the telephone. "Can you come around here for a few minutes?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I was just starting, Dick. Anything up?"
+
+"Not much. I wanted to talk to you about a chap for Jack's place."
+
+"Oh! You--you haven't changed your mind about that, then?"
+
+"No." Dick's voice sounded amused.
+
+"Well----" Gordon frowned at the telephone instrument. "I'll be over
+right away, Dick."
+
+Dick was on the porch, in spite of the fact that it was raining briskly,
+and his sister, Grace, was with him. Grace was thirteen and a very
+pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes. She was enveloped in a long apron
+and had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and explained to Gordon that
+she was in the middle of washing up the dinner dishes.
+
+"Dick called me out to read me a perfectly ridiculous story in the
+paper," she laughed. "Read to Gordon, Dick, and see if he thinks it
+funny."
+
+Dick laughed. "Grace was born without a sense of humor, Gordie, and I
+find I can't educate her."
+
+"Sense of humor!" scoffed Grace. "That story isn't the least bit funny.
+I'll leave it to Gordon." She jumped up. "I must finish those dishes."
+
+"What's the story?" asked Gordon, seating himself well away from the
+dripping vines.
+
+"The story? Oh, never mind that! Jack's just been here."
+
+"He has? Well--what--how did he take it?" asked Gordon anxiously.
+
+Dick gravely regarded the point of one shoe. "Well, I'll tell you the
+last thing he said as he went off, Gordie. He said: 'Tell Gordon I know
+a fellow named Shores who works in the plating factory. He's a pretty
+good ball player. If you like, I'll talk to him and see if he will play
+for us Saturday.'"
+
+Gordon viewed his friend with admiration, and shook his head helplessly.
+"I don't see how you manage folks the way you do, Dick," he said.
+
+"That comes of being manager," laughed Dick.
+
+"If I'd told Jack he was suspended for a week he'd have sassed me and
+gone off in a huff and never played again!"
+
+"Oh, no, he wouldn't! Jack's a good, sensible chap. He's a little bit
+stuck on himself, but that doesn't matter, and he will get over it some
+time. I just told him that he was wrong, and made him see it. And I
+convinced him without much trouble that it was for the good of the team
+that he should sit on the bench for a week. Of course, he was a bit
+huffed at first, but he got over that. In fact, Gordie, I think he's
+rather proud of being suspended. It sounds sort of professional and
+big-leaguish!"
+
+"You could convince a fellow it was a real pleasure to have his head cut
+off!" said Gordon. "I wish I had your--your diplomacy."
+
+"That's a big word for it, Gordie. Last night's meeting was rather a
+fizzle, wasn't it?"
+
+Gordon nodded gloomily. "I don't see how we're going to get a field in
+time for football practice if we don't do more than we did last night."
+
+"Too much talk," agreed Dick. "Somebody ought to just go ahead and find
+a field and then make a report on it. As for paying a hundred and
+twenty-five dollars a year rent for one, why, that's poppycock. We
+couldn't afford it, especially as we'll have to build a running track
+before next Spring."
+
+"Way suggested that we could transfer next Spring's meet to Springdale.
+That would give us nearly two years to fix up a track."
+
+"Not a bad idea. Most of the fellows seemed to fancy that place across
+the river beyond the carpet mills. It would be fairly near home, but
+it's a mean part of town."
+
+"Punk! If we have to find a new place--and I suppose we must--I'm for
+going out toward the Point. Fellows seem to think it's too far out
+there, but you can jump on the trolley and get there in no time. They'd
+put a stop opposite the field for us if we asked."
+
+"Yes, I should think Mr. Brent would do that much for us since he's
+taking our field away," agreed Dick. "By the way, seen Morris yet?"
+
+"No; I thought I'd go over this afternoon and see how he is. Maybe he's
+receiving callers by this time. Dick, do you know anything about running
+an automobile?"
+
+Dick stared. Then he laughed. "Well, hardly, Gordie! How should I?"
+
+"Well, of course you've never run one, but you know such a raft of stuff
+fellows usually don't know that----"
+
+"You thought I'd made a study of autos? No, I'm afraid I can't advise
+you much, Gordie. Thinking of buying one?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly."
+
+"Going to rent it, then?"
+
+"No, you idiot. I--I only wondered. I dare say you could drive an
+automobile finely, though. Your arms are all right and you told me once
+that you thought of getting one of those velocipede chairs that you work
+with your feet."
+
+"I see what you're driving at. Old Man Brent has commissioned you to
+sell that car of Morris'. Is that it?"
+
+Gordon looked startled, but shook his head. "No, he hasn't. I dare say,
+though, anyone could buy it pretty cheap," he remarked carelessly.
+
+"I'm afraid I couldn't afford it, Gordie," Dick laughed. "You'll have to
+find another buyer."
+
+"I know. I was just wondering if you _could_ run an auto if you had
+one."
+
+"Why, I suppose so. I've got plenty of strength in my legs when I'm
+sitting down, you know, and so far my arms are still working. But I
+don't believe I'll ever have a chance to try, Gordie. At least, not
+unless you get an auto and let me run it for you. How would I do as a
+chauffeur?"
+
+"I'll bet you could run an auto to the King's taste, Dick! You do most
+everything better than the rest of us."
+
+"You mean I think I could! Well, I'm not stuck-up about my automobile
+driving, Gordie. That's one thing I'm not conceited about. Going now?"
+
+"Yes, I guess I'd better run over to Morris'. I told his sister I'd look
+in pretty soon. When he can see folks, Dick, will you go over with me
+some time?"
+
+"Of course. Glad to. Let me know when you want to go."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. I thought--you seemed sort of down on Mr. Brent and maybe
+you wouldn't want to go to his house."
+
+"Oh, I'm not as down on him as all that," laughed Dick. "And, anyhow,
+his house never did anything to me." He paused and added soberly: "For
+that matter, Gordie, I don't want you to think that I am really sore
+against Mr. Brent. Sometimes I get sort of peeved about that affair of
+dad's, but maybe, after all, it was more his fault than Mr. Brent's.
+Anyway, I've never accused Jonathan Brent of being dishonest. I don't
+think he is. Give my regards to Morris if you see him, and tell him I'll
+come over and call some day if he doesn't mind. See you to-morrow
+afternoon, Gordie. We've got to practice hard this week. And I'll tell
+Jack to look up his friend in the plating works."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A VISIT TO THE INVALID
+
+
+Gordon found Morris not only able but eager to see him. Louise conducted
+him upstairs to a big square bedroom in the middle of which, between two
+bay windows, Morris' bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table by
+the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses, and some magazines,
+books, and glasses. A rocking-chair near the table with a magazine
+spread open in it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been
+reading to the invalid.
+
+Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest little pillow under
+his head. Gordon was shocked to see how pale and drawn he looked as he
+waved a hand at the visitor's entrance and called quite cheerfully
+across the room: "Hello, Gordon! Gee, but I'm glad to see you!"
+
+Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked Morris how he felt.
+
+"Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg's done up in a ton of plaster, I guess,
+and it hurts a good deal. But the doctor's tickled to death with it, and
+so I suppose I've got to be satisfied too. How are you? I thought you
+were never coming to see a fellow."
+
+"I've been wanting to come ever since--it happened," answered Gordon;
+"but at first they said I mustn't see you, and then, yesterday, there
+was the game at Lesterville----"
+
+"It must have been a peach of a game, even if you fellows did get
+beaten." Morris paused abruptly and lowered his eyes. "Say, Gordon, I
+guess you know I'm--I'm awfully grateful----"
+
+"Now, look here," interrupted Gordon sternly, "don't you start that too!
+I've had a lot of it from your mother and Louise and Mr. Brent, and if
+you begin I'll beat it out of here!"
+
+"All right," laughed Morris, "only--well, thanks, Gordon!" A twinge of
+pain brought a momentary scowl to his face. "I was mighty glad you
+didn't get banged up too. It was a wonder you didn't."
+
+"Oh, I'm like a cat; I light on my feet. What happened, anyhow?"
+
+"I don't know--quite. The first thing I knew the wheel spun around
+almost out of my hands and we were smashing against that fence. I
+suppose there was something in the road I didn't see. I made a grab for
+the emergency brake and tried to set it. Then I got a leg over the side
+of the car and--and that's all I remember. How badly is the car smashed,
+Gordon?"
+
+"The right front wheel has most of the spokes out of it, and the axle is
+bent on that side. And there are some dents in the running board and
+radiator and one lamp's done for. I don't believe, though, it will cost
+you much to get it fixed up again almost as good as new. I suppose
+you'll have to get rid of it, though, won't you?"
+
+Morris grinned. "Rather! And I'll have to pay for it, too!"
+
+"Your father says----"
+
+"I know; but Stacey has my note for the rest of the money, and I don't
+propose to be a squealer, Gordon. I'll get the money somehow. If dad
+won't give it to me, maybe my mother will. I'll get it somewhere. I'm
+not going to have Stacey telling it around that I don't keep my word or
+pay my debts. I wish I'd let the blamed thing alone; but I didn't, and
+so there's no use talking about that now."
+
+"What--what are you going to do with it?" asked Gordon.
+
+"Get Stacey to sell it for me, I guess. I haven't talked to dad about it
+yet. He only got home from New York yesterday. I suppose he will be mad
+when I tell him I want to pay the rest of the money."
+
+"I ought to see him, too," said Gordon uneasily, "and tell him what Mr.
+Stacey said. Is--is he at home to-day?"
+
+"Yes, but you'd better wait a while. He always takes a nap Sunday
+afternoons. I guess I'll let you tell him about Stacey before I tackle
+him."
+
+"How much would you sell the car for?" asked Gordon presently.
+
+"Anything I could get, I guess. Of course, it's never been used but a
+week; the speedometer shows only two hundred and eighty miles, I think;
+but I suppose it's just as much second-hand as if it had been run a
+whole year. I should think Stacey might get three hundred for it,
+though."
+
+Gordon looked disappointed. "Oh!" he murmured. "Well, I suppose it is
+worth all of that. Only, I was thinking----"
+
+"What?" asked Morris.
+
+"It--it sounds sort of cheeky," replied Gordon, after a moment's
+hesitation, "and you might not think much of the idea, but what I--what
+we were considering is this, Morris." He drew the chair closer to the
+bed, with a glance at the half-open door, and lowered his voice.
+
+An hour or so later Gordon left Brentwood well satisfied. Mr. Brent had
+only smiled at Mr. Stacey's ultimatum, thanked Gordon for the trouble he
+had taken, and approved of the rescue and temporary disposal of the
+automobile. "We'll let it stay where it is for the present," he said,
+"and I'll have a talk with Morris about it some day. If Stacey doesn't
+want to take it back, I guess we can get the junkman to haul it away."
+
+"I think Morris has a--a scheme, sir, that would be pretty fine,"
+returned Gordon. "That is, if--if you were willing."
+
+"A scheme? What sort of a scheme, Merrick?"
+
+"I'd rather he told you about it, sir."
+
+"Humph! I don't think much of Morris' schemes as a rule," replied Mr.
+Brent grimly. "However, I'll hear what he has to say."
+
+On Tuesday placards in the shop windows made the following announcement:
+
+                               BASEBALL!
+                     Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
+                           HIGH SCHOOL FIELD,
+                          Saturday at 3 P. M.
+                          Admission: 25 Cents.
+
+Also on that morning the Clearfield _Reporter_ obligingly called the
+public's attention to the game and predicted a close and exciting
+contest. The notice in the newspaper cost the club nothing, but the
+printed announcements took just a dollar and sixty-five cents from the
+exchequer, and caused Fudge, whose portion of the expense amounted to
+eighteen and one-third cents, a deal of gloom.
+
+"Nobody's going to pay real money to see a lot of kids play ball," said
+Fudge. "So what's the good of spending all that on notices? Gee, we
+could have bought a new ball with that money!"
+
+One or two others thought as Fudge did, but most of the team were
+optimistic, and Tim Turner was created ticket seller and gateman, and
+was to receive fifty cents for his services. Fudge declared that if Tim
+sold enough admissions to pay himself his wages he'd be "m-m-m-mighty
+lucky!" But as events proved Fudge was unnecessarily pessimistic.
+
+Meanwhile, on Monday, Jack Tappen had fulfilled his agreement to find a
+substitute, and Danny Shores was duly "signed up" for Saturday's game
+with the Point. Danny, who proved to be a long and lanky youth of
+sixteen or seventeen years, showed up for practice on Wednesday and made
+a good impression in right field and at the bat. Unfortunately,
+Wednesday was the only day he could get off, and, as Jack assured Dick,
+it took a lot of wire-pulling to secure that concession from Danny's
+boss at the plating works. However, Danny played ball more or less every
+lunch-hour behind the factory, and so was by no means out of practice.
+Jack's demeanor was amusing that week. He tried to look chastened and
+sad, but it was easy to see that he took it as a personal compliment,
+that suspension, and was vastly proud of it. Jack appeared to reason
+that if he hadn't been an extraordinarily valuable member of the team
+Dick would not have taken the trouble to discipline him! Jack was as
+busy as a hive of bees, and was so generous with advice that Dick and
+Gordon found him something of a nuisance.
+
+"I wish he was playing ball instead of sitting on the bench," confided
+Gordon, in comic despair. "Next time, Dick, throw him in the river, but
+don't suspend him. He's as pleased as Punch with himself!"
+
+Of course, the others tried their best to have their fun with Jack, but
+the attempt was not very successful. Jack seemed to consider that a
+signal honor had been done him, and, while he professed to be chagrined
+and ashamed of his position, he was secretly well contented and was
+enjoying it all greatly. As Dick said, one could have stood that well
+enough if Jack hadn't tried to run the team!
+
+But Jack Tappen was not the only cross that Dick had to bear just then.
+As a tutor Dick was having his troubles, too. Harold Townsend had at
+last, to use Caspar Billings' expression, "laid down in the shafts." Not
+only that, but he was "kicking over the traces" as well. Dick was pretty
+nearly at his wits' end. The pupil's first slight awe of his teacher had
+soon worn off, and now he was frankly mutinous. He no longer made
+pretense of studying the lessons Dick laid out for him, only grinned
+exasperatingly when taken to task, and, in short, openly defied
+authority. Dick worried for two reasons: In the first place, he disliked
+to be beaten. In the second place, he felt that he had no right to take
+money from Harold's mother when he was not earning it. And he wanted the
+money and needed it. Harold apparently realized that any appeal to his
+mother by Dick would be useless. And Dick was pretty certain of as much
+himself. Nevertheless, on Thursday of that week he decided that the time
+had come for an understanding. Loring, Harold's older brother, had
+threatened all sorts of dire punishment if that youth didn't behave, but
+the threats had not impressed Harold much. Perhaps he knew that Loring
+wouldn't carry them out. On Thursday the lesson had been the merest
+farce, and Harold's behavior had for once almost caused Dick to lose
+command of a usually well-governed temper. At last:
+
+"I shall have to talk to your mother, Harold," he said. "This kind of
+thing can't go on. You're wasting your time and mine----"
+
+"Aw, you get paid, don't you?" asked Harold, with a scowl.
+
+"I get paid for teaching, not for loafing," responded Dick sharply. "I
+shall want to see you when I come back. So don't go off, please."
+
+"I shall if I want to. You don't own me, Lovering. Besides, study time's
+up, anyway."
+
+Dick, disdaining to answer, set off to find Mrs. Townsend. The
+conference took place on a corner of the hotel veranda. Mrs. Townsend
+was a sweet-voiced, pretty woman, with a tired air. At first she seemed
+to resent Dick's charge against her boy. Then she grew pathetic, and
+bewailed the fact of her husband's death.
+
+"If he had lived," she sighed, "Harold would have been a different boy.
+I've never been able to do anything with him. He needs a stronger hand,
+I fear. Perhaps--that is, possibly--er--it would have been better to
+have found someone--someone a little older to take him in hand. Of
+course, I don't mean to suggest that you haven't done excellently, Mr.
+Lovering, for I'm quite sure you have; but, of course, as you are so
+little older than Harold, he may feel--er--you see what I mean, don't
+you?"
+
+"Yes'm, but I don't think that's the trouble. Harold doesn't want to
+study, doesn't seem to see the necessity of learning and won't. If I had
+full authority over him----"
+
+"Oh, but you have! I thought that was understood."
+
+"Oh, for two hours, perhaps, Mrs. Townsend; but what I mean is that if
+I--well, if you'd just back me up, I'm sure I could accomplish
+something."
+
+"Please explain. I don't think I understand."
+
+"Why, it's like this," replied Dick desperately: "He knows now that if
+he doesn't want to learn his lessons he doesn't have to. So he doesn't
+do any work. If--if you'd make him understand that he _does_ have to,
+Mrs. Townsend, that if he doesn't he will be--punished----"
+
+"Oh, but I've never punished Harold!" she protested. "I don't believe in
+punishment; that is, other than verbal. A high-spirited boy such as he
+is--er----"
+
+"Yes'm, I know, but you want him to go to Rifle Point, and he will never
+get there if he doesn't take some interest in his lessons and do some
+work. See here, please." Dick had provided himself with a Rifle Point
+School catalogue, and now he went over for Mrs. Townsend's benefit the
+list of studies required for entrance. Mrs. Townsend listened with a
+puzzled, tired frown on her pretty forehead.
+
+"And you think he isn't far enough advanced, Mr. Lovering, to enter this
+Fall?"
+
+"He isn't advanced at all!" blurted Dick. "What he has learned he has
+forgotten. He--he's two years behind those requirements, Mrs. Townsend."
+
+"Dear me! And I had hoped----" She sighed tremulously. "What do you
+advise?"
+
+"I advise you to make Harold understand that he's got to do what I tell
+him to, and that if he doesn't he will be punished."
+
+"But I never could punish him!"
+
+"No'm, I'm sure of that," agreed Dick. "You let me do it."
+
+"You?" she faltered. "Could you--that is----"
+
+"I don't mean whip him, Mrs. Townsend, or anything like that. I'll find
+a way that will answer quite as well."
+
+"Could you really? But how?"
+
+"I don't know just yet," Dick owned. "But I'll find a way. Really, Mrs.
+Townsend, you'll have to do something of that sort. Harold's just
+wasting his time and mine. And I can't take your money when I'm not
+earning it."
+
+"Oh, but I'm sure you are! Even if--if Harold doesn't get on very fast,
+it is a great relief to me to know that for two hours a day at least he
+is in good care and not--not running around with those horrid bell-boys.
+I'm sure that's worth every penny of the money!"
+
+"Not to me, ma'am. I mean I wouldn't be satisfied to go on with things
+as they are now. I wish you'd try my way, Mrs. Townsend. All I'd want
+you to do would be just to tell Harold that he is to do absolutely as I
+tell him to, and that there is no use in his appealing to you."
+
+"We--ell, if you're quite certain it won't break his spirit or--or
+anything like that," agreed Mrs. Townsend doubtfully. "I do want him to
+get on, Mr. Lovering. If only he had half the studiousness that Loring
+has!"
+
+"He can study very well when he wants to," replied Dick dryly. "And I'm
+pretty sure I can make him want to if you will just stand back of me,
+Mrs. Townsend."
+
+"I will, really and truly," she said. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lovering.
+I--I'll speak to Harold this evening, and----"
+
+"Couldn't you speak to him now just as well, please?"
+
+"Now? Why, I suppose so. If you wish. Perhaps I'd better, and get it
+over with." Mrs. Townsend sighed deeply. "Will you send him to me, Mr.
+Lovering?"
+
+"Yes'm, if I can find him," answered Dick. "I'm afraid, though, he's
+gone off somewhere. I'll look him up, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you very much
+for--for helping me."
+
+Harold was not in his room where Dick had left him, and inquiry around
+the corridor of the hotel at first failed to elicit any information.
+Ultimately, however, Dick found a boy who had seen Harold walking down
+the beach about a half hour before and Dick set off in the indicated
+direction toward the distant point of rocks that jutted out into the
+sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE ROCKS
+
+
+It was hard going for Dick, for his crutches sank into the sand nearly
+to the depth of their rubber tips, but he persevered, and after some ten
+minutes of "crutching" arrived at the end of the beach where the point
+of rock from which the place received its name advanced from the grassy
+bluff and waded far into the breakers. Harold was not in sight when Dick
+reached the bottom of the ledge; but a few moments later when by careful
+climbing Dick had reached the seaward end of the rock, he came into
+view. The receding tide had left a long and narrow pool in a cleft of
+the ledge, a pool whose sides were festooned with delicate seaweed and
+set with purple mussels and green and brown snails and in whose bottom
+pink starfish crawled. Harold, perched at the edge of the pool, was
+looking fascinatingly into the clear green depths and didn't hear the
+soft tap of Dick's crutches until the older boy was almost beside him.
+Then he turned startledly, narrowly escaping a bath in the pool, and
+scowled at the intruder.
+
+"Had to hunt for me, anyway, didn't you?" he asked sneeringly.
+
+Dick paid the question no heed. Instead, he moved to the edge of the
+pool and peered interestedly into it. He didn't have to feign interest,
+he was interested. It seemed a long time to Dick since he had crouched,
+as Harold was crouched now, and gazed fascinatingly at the wonders of a
+rock pool. Nor had he done it very frequently, for climbing over the
+ledges is hard and risky work for a boy without two good legs. Harold
+continued to frown at a wavering starfish in the depths, but presently,
+as Dick did not speak, he shot a curious glance at him.
+
+"Gee," he said to himself, "you'd think he'd never seen starfish and
+things before!"
+
+Dick took off his hat and wiped his moist forehead. Then he lowered
+himself cautiously to a seat on the rock. "Regular natural aquarium,
+isn't it?" he asked pleasantly. Harold's reply was an unintelligible
+growl. "Lots of queer things in there," went on Dick musingly.
+
+"Sure; I just saw a whale," replied Harold sarcastically.
+
+"Did you? Your eyes must be pretty good," returned Dick, with a smile.
+"I dare say, though, I see something you don't."
+
+Harold viewed him suspiciously. Finally: "What?" he asked.
+
+"A sea-anemone."
+
+"A sea-what?"
+
+"Sea-anemone." Dick laughed. "I sea-anemone; what do you see?"
+
+"That's a punk joke!" scoffed Harold.
+
+"I'm not joking. I'll point him out to you. Lean over this way. See that
+purplish-brown thing on the side near the bottom? Looks like a flower,
+sort of. See?"
+
+"Sure! Is that it? It isn't a flower, though; it moves, don't it?"
+Harold was interested in spite of himself.
+
+"Yes, it moves, and it isn't a flower. It's a polyp. It's name is
+Metridium something or other; I forget the rest of it."
+
+"What's a polyp? An animal?"
+
+"Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge is."
+
+"Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!" derided the other.
+
+"Not exactly. Those things that move are little tentacles with which it
+feeds itself," said Dick, pointing again at the anemone.
+
+"What's it eat?" asked Harold curiously.
+
+"All sorts of animal matter that floats around in the water and that is
+so small we can't see it."
+
+Harold observed him suspiciously. "I don't believe it's alive at all,"
+he said presently. "It's just a sort of seaweed, and it moves because
+the water moves."
+
+"Think so?" asked Dick. "Then put your hand down there toward it and see
+what happens."
+
+"It won't--bite, will it?" asked Harold doubtfully.
+
+"No, but it will show you whether it's alive or not. You needn't touch
+it," he added, noting the other's hesitancy. "Just put your hand near it
+or disturb the water."
+
+Harold pulled his sleeve up and cautiously thrust an arm into the pool.
+"Gee!" he exclaimed. "It shut its mouth!"
+
+Dick laughed. "Doesn't look much like it did, does it?"
+
+"No; it's an ugly little thing now," responded the other. "Say, that's
+funny, isn't it? Guess it's alive, all right."
+
+"Yes; and it knows three things pretty well: It knows how to attach
+itself to the rocks, how to get food, and how to shut up shop when
+trouble brews."
+
+"What would it do if you took it out?"
+
+"Die. Besides, it's stuck on there so hard you'd have to pull it to
+pieces to get it off. I tried it once when I was a kid, and had to give
+it up."
+
+"I'd like to find a sea-urchin," said Harold. "I've got a lot of
+starfish and a horse-shoe crab and some razor-clam shells and two shark
+eggs. I guess I'll get that big starfish down there, too."
+
+"What's the use?" asked Dick. "It's just like those you've got. Let the
+old chap live and enjoy himself."
+
+"I'll get it if I want to," replied Harold. "Say, what did you follow me
+out here for, anyway?"
+
+"Because I told your mother I'd find you and send you to her. She's got
+something to say to you."
+
+"Sure! I suppose you went and told her a lot of lies about me."
+
+"You don't suppose anything of the sort," responded Dick quietly.
+
+"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of her."
+
+"Of course not, but you want to do what she wishes, don't you?"
+
+"That's my business," replied the other ungraciously. "I do as I
+please."
+
+"Well, you're a lucky chap, then," said Dick pleasantly. "By the way,
+are you going to see the ball game Saturday?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so. That is"--with elaborate concern--"unless you don't
+want me to."
+
+"I was going to say that if you'll ask for me at the gate I'll pass you
+in, Harold."
+
+"Why, are they going to charge?"
+
+"Yes; twenty-five cents."
+
+"Gee, they've got a crust! Who'd pay twenty-five cents to see a lot of
+wooden-heads play ball?"
+
+"Well, we're hoping a lot will. Anyway, you won't have to. Just ask for
+me at the gate. I guess it will be a pretty good game. Do you like
+baseball?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Do you play?"
+
+"Sure! What do you think I am--a wooden Indian?"
+
+"That's good. They have a pretty good team at Rifle Point. Maybe you'll
+make it some day."
+
+"There isn't any maybe about it. I'm going to."
+
+"I hope so. Well, I must be getting back. You coming along? It must be
+very nearly lunch time."
+
+"No, I'm not," growled Harold. "I'll come when I'm ready."
+
+"All right. By the way, we won't have any lessons to-morrow. Nothing
+doing until Monday. Meanwhile you see if you can't get the better of
+that algebra, like a good fellow. So-long!"
+
+"Long!" muttered Harold.
+
+Dick pulled himself up and fixed his crutches and began the laborious
+task of climbing back up the rock and across to the beach. Fortunately
+his rubber tips held well, and he was soon at the top of the ledge. But
+there misfortune overtook him. Just what happened he couldn't have told,
+but the result he was very certain about. For one crutch flew out from
+under him, he spun half around on the other and fell backward, his head
+coming into violent contact with the granite ledge. For an instant he
+was too dazed to move. His head rang and buzzed like a bee-hive. In
+falling he must have cried out involuntarily, for almost before he had
+gathered his faculties together and made a move to get up he heard
+footsteps pattering on the rocks, and then the anxious voice of Harold
+Townsend:
+
+"Are you hurt, Lovering? What happened?"
+
+Harold ran to him, and bent over him with very genuine concern.
+
+"I--I'm all right, thanks," replied Dick, a trifle vaguely. "I fell.
+That rock is some hard, Harold!" He rubbed his head ruefully and
+grimaced as his hand came in contact with the swelling bruise. "Just
+give me a hand, will you? And kick that crutch this way, please."
+
+"Here's your crutch," said Harold, "but just you wait where you are a
+minute." He sped away down the slope of the rock, and Dick, with his
+head throbbing, for once could not but feel a qualm of envy. In a moment
+the younger boy was back. He had dipped his handkerchief in the water,
+and now he offered it a trifle shyly to Dick. "Put it on your head," he
+said gruffly. "It'll make it feel better."
+
+"Thanks, Harold." Dick applied the wet compress to the bump. "It was
+stupid of me to keel over like that," he said. "I don't know when I've
+fallen down before."
+
+"I should think you'd have lots of falls," replied Harold. "I think you
+get around mighty well, Lovering. How does it feel now?"
+
+"Better, thanks. Just sort of give me a boost, will you?"
+
+Harold assisting, Dick got to his feet, or, rather, his crutches, and,
+with the younger boy watching anxiously, went on down the ledge to the
+beach.
+
+"You needn't come unless you're ready to," said Dick. "I'll be all right
+now, Harold."
+
+"I guess I'll go, too," replied Harold carelessly. "It's most lunch
+time."
+
+They walked along in silence for a way, and then Dick asked: "Do you
+know who Caspar Billings has got to take Morris Brent's place on
+Saturday?"
+
+"Fellow named Jensen. Do you know him?"
+
+"No, I think not. Pretty good, is he?"
+
+"I guess so. Loring says he is. Say, Mason's going to pitch for us. Did
+you know that?"
+
+"Mason? Oh, he is the fellow who was to have played in the last game and
+didn't get here. Is he a wonder, Harold?"
+
+"Is he!" Harold chuckled. "You just wait and see. You fellows won't be
+able to touch him!"
+
+"As good as that, eh? By the way, who scores for your team?"
+
+"I don't know." Harold shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody, I guess. Why?"
+
+"I should think you'd like to do it."
+
+Harold considered. "I guess," he answered finally, "I don't know how
+well enough."
+
+"I can show you. You bring a book Saturday and sit by me, and I'll make
+a professional scorer of you in no time."
+
+"Too much trouble," replied the other indifferently.
+
+"It isn't trouble at all, Harold; it's fun. Better try it some time.
+It's a good thing to know."
+
+Presently Harold asked: "Why aren't you coming to-morrow?"
+
+"Because we haven't been getting on very well, Harold. I thought it
+might be a good idea for us to stop for a couple of days and think it
+over; see whether we want to go on with it or not, you know. If we
+decide that we do, we'll start all over again Monday and do the thing
+right."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Harold. "What did you tell my mother?"
+
+"Oh, just that I wasn't willing to go on and take her money without
+accomplishing something," replied Dick cheerfully. "I told her you could
+study as well as your brother if you wanted to----"
+
+"She's always beefing about Loring!" grumbled the boy.
+
+"And that if you didn't want to there wasn't much use in my coming.
+Well, I'll cut through here for the car. I'll see you Monday, Harold."
+
+"What about Saturday?" asked the other. "You said----"
+
+"Of course! Look me up, and bring your score-book."
+
+"Haven't any."
+
+"You can get one at Wadsworth's, on Common Street. Or I'll buy one for
+you, if you like."
+
+"You needn't. It's too much like work. So-long!"
+
+Dick returned to Clearfield more encouraged. If only Mrs. Townsend would
+do as she had agreed to, he believed that he could manage Harold and
+earn the money that was being paid him. He had about given up hope of
+finding more pupils, and so could ill afford to lose Harold. He
+certainly didn't want to, he reflected, but he would in an instant
+rather than make no better progress than he had been making.
+
+At practice that afternoon, Gordon told him that Morris had asked to see
+him, and Dick agreed to call at the Brents' for a few minutes before
+supper. Morris was pathetically glad to see the two boys and very loath
+to have them go again. Mrs. Brent looked in for a short time and Louise
+met them on their way out and thanked them for coming. She looked rather
+tired, and Gordon spoke of it.
+
+"It's been so hot to-day," she explained, "and I've been indoors a good
+deal since Morris was hurt. He can't read to himself yet, and so I have
+to do it for him. Of course, I'm very glad to, but it is hard work in a
+way. I wonder if either of you have any books he'd like. I've read about
+everything I can find."
+
+"I think I have," responded Dick. "I'll bring two or three over. I guess
+what Morris wants is a rattling good adventure story."
+
+"Yes; he's crazy to hear stories about ships and pirates and hidden
+treasure, you know. About the only other thing he cares about is the
+baseball news. I read that to him every morning, and I'm getting to be
+quite--quite learned."
+
+"I suppose," said Dick, "the doctor won't let you move him out to the
+Point yet."
+
+"He says we can go in about another two weeks. I think it will be much
+better for Morris. He's getting fearfully tired of that room up there.
+And it is hot, you know. Thank you both for coming, and do come again
+when you can. I guess it isn't much fun for you, but Morris looks
+forward to it all day."
+
+"She's a nice girl," commented Dick, as they passed through the gate.
+"Pretty, too."
+
+"She _is_ nice," agreed Gordon. "I guess when a fellow's laid up like
+that a sister's a pretty good thing to have around."
+
+"Yes," said Dick. And, after a moment, he added: "I'll find those books
+and take them around to-morrow morning."
+
+"I would," approved the other. "You're certain to find her in then."
+
+"Don't be a chump, Gordie! She's only a kid!"
+
+"She's as old as I am, except for a few months. And if you call me a kid
+I'll lick you."
+
+"If you do, I'll suspend you," replied Dick sternly.
+
+Gordon laughed. "I hope I'd get as much fun out of it as Jack is
+getting," he said. "He confided to me to-day that you were a fine
+manager. 'I tell you, Gordon,' he said, 'a manager's got to have plenty
+of discipline!' If you could only fire Jack for good and all, he'd love
+you like a brother, Dick!"
+
+"I sort of wish we were going to have him in the game Saturday," said
+Dick. "We'll miss his batting, I guess."
+
+"I wonder if this fellow Mason is as good as they seem to think him.
+Anyone know where he comes from?"
+
+"I didn't ask. He's probably better than Porter, though. I have a
+feeling that we're due to get the short end of the score day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"I wouldn't be surprised. I hope to goodness Harry can play. If he is
+out of it, we will be in a mess!"
+
+"How is Tom getting on with his shingling or painting or whatever it is
+he's doing?"
+
+"I don't know. Why?"
+
+"Well, it would be a good thing if he could come out and practice a
+little more. It's too bad we can't find another fellow to help out with
+the pitching, Gordie. If Tom got sick we'd be in a fix."
+
+"We surely would! But I don't believe Tom was ever sick in his life.
+Anyway, he was pretty fit to-day. I caught him for a few minutes, and he
+had everything there is."
+
+Dick smiled. "Tom has just three balls, Gordie: an out, a pretty good
+drop, and a fast one that's a peach. That's all he needs, though. If he
+mixes them up right he can get by. But we've got to find our batting eye
+Saturday if we're to win. How about the line-up? Think we'd better
+change it?"
+
+"Yes, I do. This fellow Shores had better follow Lanny, don't you think?
+He seems to think he can bat, but he didn't connect with much
+yesterday."
+
+"Maybe he was embarrassed," suggested Dick, with a smile.
+
+"Embarrassed!" said Gordon. "Yes, about as much embarrassed as a
+bull-pup! Maybe he will do better in a game, though. Well, so-long,
+Dick. I'll have to hustle or I'll be late for supper."
+
+"Coming around to-night?"
+
+"I don't believe so. I told Lanny I'd go over there. See you to-morrow,
+though."
+
+"Come over in the morning, will you? I'm not going out to the Point
+to-morrow."
+
+"You're not? You haven't quit, have you?"
+
+"No, not yet. I'm giving Harold a day or two to think over his sins.
+Good-night."
+
+"I say, Dick, don't forget your call."
+
+"What call?" asked Dick, from the end of the hedge.
+
+"Why, on Miss Brent!"
+
+"You'll sit on the bench if you're not careful," laughed Dick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DICK SCORES A DEFEAT
+
+
+"Well, what do you know about that!" ejaculated Fudge awedly. He and
+Lanny were approaching the athletic field at a little after two on
+Saturday. Ahead of them, as they turned the corner, was a group of some
+fifty or sixty persons, mostly boys and young men, and they were quite
+evidently waiting for the gate to open.
+
+"And it isn't half-past two yet," said Lanny. "Looks as if we were going
+to have an audience, after all, Fudge."
+
+"Bet you they don't know they have to pay a quarter," responded the
+other pessimistically.
+
+"Then they're blind, because there's a notice right beside the gate
+there."
+
+"Someone ought to find Tim and get him here," said Fudge anxiously.
+"They might change their minds and go away again!"
+
+"What time is he supposed to get here?"
+
+"I don't know. Half-past, I suppose." They passed through a smaller gate
+which led to the dressing-room and found Dick and Gordon already on
+hand. Fudge told his fears to Dick, and Dick reassured him by agreeing
+to take the gate himself until young Mr. Turner appeared. Five minutes
+later the first two or three rows of the grandstand were occupied, and
+spectators were still dribbling through the gate and depositing quarters
+in Dick's hand. Tim Turner arrived breathless soon after and relieved
+Dick. Some thirty Rutter's Point residents accompanied their team and
+still further swelled the audience, and by three o'clock Dick estimated
+that fully a hundred and sixty persons had paid admission. That was much
+better than anyone had dared hope, and Lanny, making a lightning
+calculation, confided to Gordon that there'd be thirty dollars coming to
+the club after Rutter's Point had received the twenty-five per cent.
+agreed on.
+
+"If we can do that often enough," said Lanny delightedly, "we'll have
+more than enough for----"
+
+"S-sh!" cautioned Gordon.
+
+"He's over there talking to Billings. Who is the kid with him?"
+
+"That's young Townsend, the fellow he's coaching. It's about time to
+start, isn't it? There come three more, Lanny."
+
+"Every little quarter helps," replied Lanny. "I hope Tim Turner doesn't
+abscond with the cash! Someone ought to stand over him with a bat! Oh,
+Fudge!"
+
+"What's wanted?" asked Fudge, joining them.
+
+"We wanted to tell you that if Tim runs off with the money you will have
+to make good."
+
+Fudge grinned. "He's awfully excited," he said. "He's got both pockets
+full of silver, and sounds like a treasury when he moves. He's terribly
+worried because he gave one fellow too much change. He says he knows
+him, though, and is going to get it back!"
+
+"Come on," said Gordon. "On the run, fellows. You're in right field,
+Shores. Throw out another ball, Jack, will you? Here you are, Harry!"
+
+A minute later Captain Billings faced Tom Haley, and the game began.
+
+The batting list of the visiting team had been changed in two instances,
+Jensen replacing Morris Brent in left field, and Mason pitching instead
+of Porter. Melville, or "Mel," Mason was a big youth of eighteen at
+least, with a quiet, self-constrained manner that impressed Dick and
+filled him with forebodings of defeat. Clearfield was minus the services
+of Jack Tappen, Mr. Daniel Shores making his first appearance in a
+purple uniform and holding down Jack's place in right field. The umpire
+was Mr. Cochran, physical director at the Young Men's Christian
+Association, and a great favorite among the boys.
+
+Rutter's Point failed to do anything in the first inning. Tom Haley
+allowed only one player to reach first, and he got no farther. When
+Clearfield came to the bat, with Harry Bryan up, the audience proved its
+loyalty to the home team by loud and prolonged cheering. It was very
+soon evidenced that "Mel" Mason was in a different class from Bede
+Porter as a pitcher. Who he was or where he came from neither Dick nor
+Gordon had learned; but, to use Fudge's admiring and slightly resentful
+expression, he was "some pitchist!" He had plenty of speed when he cared
+to use it, but his favorite offering was a slow ball that was probably
+patterned on the "floater" of a famous league pitcher. The Clearfield
+batters hit under it or over it with discouraging regularity, and Harry,
+Will, and Gordon went out in order in the last of the first inning, only
+Will managing to hit into fair territory. Harry and Gordon fanned.
+
+For three innings the contest was a pitchers' battle. Tom was in
+excellent shape, and, although he secured fewer strike-outs than his
+rival, managed to hold his own with the assistance of sharp fielding by
+his team-mates. If there were those among the spectators who had come to
+scoff at the kind of ball they were to see they must have been
+surprised, for both teams played a practically errorless game until the
+beginning of the fourth. And even after that, if there were frequent
+miscues, there was enough excitement and suspense to make up for them.
+
+It was Jensen, the chap who had taken Morris' place, who started things
+going in the fourth. Loring Townsend had flied out to Pete Robey, making
+the first out. With two strikes and one ball on him, Jensen reached for
+an out-shoot, found it on the end of his bat, and deposited it neatly
+behind Gordon and close to the foul-line. Chase, the Point shortstop,
+tried twice to bunt, and then hit sharply past Pete, and Jensen went to
+third. House was over-anxious and went out on strikes, and Chase got to
+second. Then Leary waited and got his base. With the bags all occupied
+and two men down, it was up to "Pink" Northrop to come to the rescue
+with a hit. The Point coachers were jumping and shouting like mad, and
+Tom might have been excused for some unsteadiness at that juncture. But
+Tom settled down, followed Lanny's signals closely, and at last, after
+working two strikes over on Northrop, caused that youth to hit weakly to
+third. Will Scott almost overthrew the base in his eagerness, but Gordon
+pulled the ball down in time and the crisis was over.
+
+Gordon went out, shortstop to first; Way lifted a high one to second
+baseman, and Pete Robey faced Mason with little expectation of faring
+any better. But Mason let up for a minute, probably arguing that with
+two gone he could afford to take things easy, and Pete shot a hot liner
+at third baseman. Caspar Billings got his hands on it, but it trickled
+past him, and Pete was safe. That doubtful error--Dick charitably scored
+it as a hit--seemed the signal for the Point to go up in the air. Mason
+whipped a quick throw to first which would have caught Pete flat-footed
+off the bag had Loring Townsend been ready for it. He wasn't, however,
+and the ball went past him to the fence, and Pete, finding his feet
+quickly, shot to second and then on to third, beating out the throw by a
+fraction of an inch and causing dissatisfaction among the Pointers over
+Mr. Cochran's decision. Lanny, impatiently waiting at the plate, swung
+twice in his eagerness to score the runner, and then waited while Mason
+teased him with wide ones. With two strikes and two balls against him,
+Lanny out-guessed the pitcher, and swung against the next one. Shortstop
+knocked it down but couldn't find it again in time to throw either to
+the plate or to first, and Clearfield, amidst the excited whooping of
+the audience, scored her first tally.
+
+Lanny went down to second on the first pitch, and, although Houghton
+threw quickly and well to that bag, Lanny beat him by a yard. Danny
+Shores, who was at bat, had swung and was one strike to the bad when
+Mason grimly turned his attention to him again. Quite a few of Danny's
+friends from the factory were on hand to see him perform, and when,
+after the third delivery, he caught the ball squarely on the nose and
+sent it streaking just over second baseman's head, they shouted
+themselves hoarse in Danny's honor. On the bench, Jack Tappen looked a
+bit glum. He had visions of being displaced by Mr. Shores. Lanny came in
+without hurrying much, and Danny reposed on first. Fudge tried to do his
+share of a hit-and-run play, but he swung far wide of the deceptive
+drop, and Danny was caught at second and the inning was over, with
+Clearfield two runs to the good.
+
+Enthusiasm reigned among the spectators on the stand, and they "rooted"
+valiantly for Clearfield throughout the rest of the game. In the fifth
+the Point got two men on bases, and was in good position to score, there
+being but one out, when Pete Robey pulled down a liner that had been
+distinctly labeled "two bases," raced to second ahead of the runner, and
+then completed the double by making a fine throw to Gordon. Mason struck
+out Tom easily in the last of the fifth, passed Harry Bryan, fanned Will
+Scott, and then, with Gordon at bat, caught Harry off first.
+
+Every play was loudly applauded, and the audience was by this time
+perched on the edges of the seats. Again in their half of the sixth
+Rutter's Point found Tom for two hits, and again sharp fielding kept her
+from crossing the plate. It was evident, though, that Tom was less of a
+puzzle now than in the earlier innings, and it seemed only a matter of
+time when the Pointers would bunch their hits and Dick would have to
+credit them with a run or two. You are not to suppose that Dick was
+doing nothing but keeping the score. He was managing that game from the
+bench as scientifically as if he had played the game all his short life.
+Every batsman got his orders from Dick before he stepped to the plate,
+and every coacher was instructed before he went to the box. And, besides
+that, Dick was teaching Harold Townsend how to score a ball game. In
+spite of his indifference two days before, Harold had appeared with a
+brand-new, black-covered score-book and a fountain pen. Dick had told
+him to put the pen in his pocket, and had supplied him with a pencil
+instead. Harold seated himself by Dick and watched and learned. He made
+more mistakes than enough, and his score when finished was a veritable
+hodge-podge of misinformation, but he seemed to get a lot of excitement
+and fun out of it, and he really did learn a good deal for a boy who had
+theretofore scored an out by placing a huge X opposite the batsman and a
+run by marking up an equally enormous I. When he began to memorize the
+symbols for struck out, base on balls, hit by pitched ball, and so on,
+he discovered that scoring was not the simple task he had thought it.
+About the sixth inning he gave up trying to keep a detailed score, and
+contented himself with disposing of the batsmen with his X's and I's.
+But by that time the excitement had grown so intense that it would have
+required a person with a much cooler head than Harold's to keep his mind
+on scoring.
+
+Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination to add
+another brace of runs to her score and place the game safely away. Dick
+realized that Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors would
+find him for some real hits, and before that occurred he wanted
+Clearfield to have a sufficient lead to place her out of danger. Gordon
+had his instructions to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was a
+clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either Pete or Lanny was
+to supply the hit to score Gordon. But plans don't always carry through.
+Dick's didn't on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason's hands,
+and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to first for the out. Way
+bunted down the first-base line, and managed to beat out the throw. Pete
+flied to center field, and Way was held on first. With two down the
+inning should have been as good as over, but Fate took a hand and
+prolonged it until the bases were filled, and Dick, watching intently
+from the bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do the
+impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose, forcing Way to second.
+Then Danny Shores had come through with a mild wallop down third-base
+line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the side, but his wits
+must have been wool-gathering, for, after gathering in the ball on the
+bound five feet away from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing
+past him hardly out of arm's length, but hurled the ball across to
+first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was too surprised to realize what was
+required of him. At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and
+Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out, had to reverse his
+decision.
+
+And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his favorite bat and manfully
+stalked to the plate, resolved to do or die. Fudge was right in the
+midst of a baseball romance at that time, and only the night before,
+writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in bed, he had
+described how his hero, despised and ridiculed by his school-mates, had
+gone to the bat in the last of the ninth and, even while the crowds
+turned disappointedly away from the field, had out-guessed the marvelous
+pitcher of the rival school and with one mighty stroke of his faithful
+bat had turned defeat into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring
+the men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his bat and faced
+Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant and undismayed. He wondered
+whether things ever happened in real life as they did in stories.
+Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly improbable
+to-day. Fudge determined to tone it down a little that evening. A
+two-bagger would answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly
+sound more plausible.
+
+Dick's voice from the bench reached him as Mason, after glancing over
+the bases, wound up. "Make him pitch to you, Fudge! It only takes one!"
+Back and forth from behind first and third the cries of Harry Bryan and
+Gordon rattled. Fudge gripped his bat tighter yet and glued his eyes to
+the upraised hands of Mel Mason. Then the ball, a particularly dirty
+one, streaked toward him; Fudge's heart beat loudly and he stepped
+nimbly out of the way, only to hear the fell verdict: "Strike!"
+
+Fudge looked reproachfully at Mr. Cochran, sighed, and again faced the
+pitcher. That ball had come well across the inner corner of the plate,
+and Fudge determined that Mason shouldn't fool him a second time with
+that particular kind of a delivery. So when the next ball shot forward
+apparently coming the same way Fudge held his ground scornfully and
+prepared to swing his bat. But the next instant he had forgotten all
+about swinging and was sitting on the ground with both hands clasped to
+his ribs and an expression of pained surprise on his face. When he had
+regained his breath and the use of his legs, Fudge thought that the joy
+of his team-mates was very ill-considered. It seemed nothing to them
+that he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of an infuriated
+baseball; they only shouted and jumped about because a run had been
+forced in!
+
+Fudge walked painfully to first, reflecting how differently his hero
+would have performed. There was something distinctly humiliating to
+Fudge in gaining his base in such a manner, and so deeply did he feel
+the humiliation that he quite forgot to heed the warnings of Gordon,
+coaching behind the base, and was surprised to have Loring Townsend,
+without any provocation, punch him forcibly in exactly the spot that
+Mason's in-shoot had collided with. That was too much for Fudge. The
+pain brought tears to his eyes and wrath to his heart. He sprang upon
+the first baseman with clenched fists, and only Gordon's prompt
+interference prevented trouble. Gordon haled Fudge away, patiently
+explaining that Loring had tagged him with the ball while he had been
+apparently fast asleep a yard off the base. The explanation, however,
+was not entirely satisfactory to Fudge.
+
+"What of it? He didn't have to punch me in the ribs as hard as he knew
+how, did he?" demanded Fudge angrily. "What kind of a way is that to
+play ball?"
+
+"Shut up, Fudge!" said Gordon exasperatedly. "Why the dickens weren't
+you watching the pitcher? What's the good of getting hit if you get put
+out the next minute?"
+
+"Good of it!" exclaimed Fudge. "Good of it! There isn't any good of it!
+I just wish he'd lammed you in the ribs the way he did me! Good of it!"
+And Fudge, still muttering, wandered disgustedly out to center field,
+one hand pressed to his side.
+
+The seventh inning passed uneventfully. Tom had small difficulty with
+the last three men on the Point batting-list, and Mason disposed of Tom
+Haley and Harry Bryan with five balls apiece, and caused Will Scott to
+pop up a foul to first baseman. So the eighth inning started and Dick
+began to breathe easier, and the Clearfield sympathizers were jubilant.
+After all, three runs was a good lead, and even if the Point got to
+batting Tom in the next two innings, surely Clearfield could stop them
+short of three tallies. Thus argued Dick, and said as much to Harold,
+who, to-day, at least, was divided in his sympathies. Harold, having
+predicted great things of Mason, was a bit disgruntled with that youth,
+and expressed the wish once that Clearfield would wallop him out of the
+box. But when Dick voiced his belief that the game was pretty safe
+Harold took exception.
+
+"You wait," he said darkly. "Here comes Loring up. He hasn't done
+anything yet, and he's just bound to. And if he gets on Gil Chase will
+send him home. You wait!"
+
+Loring Townsend let two balls go by, failed to size up the third
+delivery as a strike, and swung unsuccessfully at the next. With the
+score two and two, Tom sped a straight one over and Loring met it with
+his bat and set out for first. He didn't run very fast, though, for the
+hit was a weak one and was bounding straight at Will Scott at third. But
+Will made a mess of that play. He got the ball, dropped it, found it
+again and threw hurriedly across the diamond. Gordon leaped into the
+air, just managed to tip the ball with his fingers, and then dashed off
+on a chase for it as it rolled toward the fence. When the shouting had
+died away, Loring was on second, Al Jensen was swinging his bat eagerly
+and impatiently, and Harold had dropped his score-book between his feet
+and didn't know it!
+
+That was a disastrous inning for Clearfield. Tom managed to strike out
+Jensen after that player had knocked six fouls into various parts of the
+field, and managed, too, to hold Loring on second. But when Gil Chase
+got the signal from first and trickled the ball into the pitcher's box
+while Loring sped to third, Tom, with plenty of time to make the out at
+first, tossed the ball six feet over Gordon's head and Loring slid home
+with the first run for the Point, while Chase got to second.
+
+Then Tom had his troubles. His misplay had taken his nerve, and for a
+while he went thoroughly to pieces. Eight batsmen faced him in that
+inning, and four hits, for a total of six bases, and five runs were made
+off him before he finally managed to strike out Mason. When that inning
+was over the game had a different complexion. Instead of being three
+runs ahead, with the prospect of winning a shut-out, Clearfield was two
+tallies behind, and defeat stared her in the face.
+
+The home team returned determinedly to the fray, but Mason was
+impregnable. In the last of the eighth not a man saw first and only four
+players faced him. In the first of the ninth, Rutter's Point again
+started things with a whoop when Caspar Billings, first up, singled into
+left field, took second on Townsend's sacrifice, and was advanced to
+third when Jensen hit past Will Scott. Then Jensen was caught off first
+and House flied out to Shores.
+
+I would like to tell how Clearfield went to bat in the last half of that
+final inning and pounded Mason for enough hits to win the game. But as
+this isn't one of Fudge's romances I can't do anything of the sort. As a
+matter of regrettable fact, Clearfield stood up to the plate and watched
+Mason's "floaters" waft past them and listened to the fateful voice of
+the umpire calling strikes. Mason ended the day in a blaze of glory,
+striking out three men in order and sending his team off the field
+victors by the score of 5 to 3.
+
+Harold Townsend, slapping his score-book shut, grinned at Dick as the
+last man went out. "What did I tell you?" he asked gleefully. "Say, you
+fellows can't play ball for shucks, Lovering!"
+
+Dick smiled imperturbably. He had the ability to smile in the face of
+disaster, had Dick.
+
+"We'll try you again some day," he answered. "Good-bye, Harold. See you
+Monday."
+
+"I may not be home," replied Harold airily.
+
+But when Dick was accompanying his team-mates toward the dressing-room a
+minute or two later, he felt a hand on his arm and looked around to find
+that Harold had followed him.
+
+"Say, Lovering, I--I'm sorry your team got beaten. And thanks for
+showing me about scoring, you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HAROLD MAKES A PROMISE
+
+
+The Clearfield _Reporter_ was quite enthusiastic over the game in its
+Monday's issue. There had been, it declared, for some time a demand for
+a baseball team to represent the city, a demand which had now been
+satisfied in the recent formation of the club which had given such a
+good account of itself on Saturday. It was to be hoped that the
+organization would prosper and receive the support of the many lovers of
+clean sport residing in the town. The _Reporter_ gave the game almost
+play by play, indulging in a wealth of baseball slang and metaphor
+worthy of a metropolitan journal. It was quite evident that the writer
+had thoroughly enjoyed his task. He dealt out praise lavishly and was
+especially complimentary to the Rutter's Point pitcher, who, it seemed,
+had struck out ten batsmen besides fielding his position perfectly.
+Incidentally the _Reporter_ provided the information that the Clearfield
+players had failed to obtain.
+
+"Melville Mason," said the paper, "gives every promise of becoming a
+top-notch twirler, and there is no doubt a berth awaiting him in one of
+the big league teams if he wants it. He has been playing ball for six
+years, and last season was second-choice pitcher on the Erskine College
+team. He is nineteen years of age. The Rutter's Point team is to be
+congratulated on securing the services of so accomplished a player. We
+are assured by Captain Billings that Mr. Mason receives no salary."
+("Bet you he's having his expenses paid, though," commented Gordon, when
+he and Dick read the _Reporter_ that morning.) "We trust," concluded the
+_Reporter_, "that a third and determining game will be arranged between
+Saturday's adversaries and that it will be played on the local grounds,
+where, doubtless, a large audience will be on hand to enjoy it."
+
+"That isn't a bad idea," said Lanny. "We took in forty-three dollars
+Saturday. I dare say we could do even better the next time. And I don't
+believe but what the Pointers would be willing to play here if they got
+their twenty-five per cent. again."
+
+"We might offer them a third of the receipts," suggested Gordon.
+
+Dick looked puzzled. "You fellows are frightfully keen on the financial
+end of it, seems to me," he said. "What's the idea, Lanny? What are we
+going to do with the money we get, anyway? We can't buy balls with all
+of it."
+
+"Well, there's no harm in having it," replied Lanny evasively. "You
+never know when you'll need money."
+
+"I know when I need it," said Dick grimly. "That's most of the time."
+
+"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to sound Billings," said Gordon. "You might
+tell him we'd like to play a deciding game, and that--er--that as
+Clearfield is interested in the series it would perhaps be best to play
+here. If Billings kicked, you could offer him a third. I dare say we'd
+get a couple of hundred people easily for the next game, and that would
+give the Point something like seventeen dollars."
+
+"I don't believe they're as much on the make as you Shylocks," objected
+Dick. "Still, I'll talk it over with him some day. Perhaps, though, it
+would be better to wait and see if they won't propose the game
+themselves. Then we'd be in a better position to make conditions."
+
+"Isn't he the nifty old diplomat?" asked Lanny admiringly.
+
+"A regular fox," agreed Gordon. "Work it your own way, Dick."
+
+"We can't play them for about three weeks, anyway," said Dick. "We're
+filled up with games until the third of September. I got a letter from
+Tyson over in Springdale this morning. He says they'll play us there a
+week from next Saturday if we'll come over. What do you say?"
+
+"I say yes, by all means," replied Gordon, with enthusiasm. "And I guess
+we're all eager to have another try at those chaps after what they did
+to us in June."
+
+"Well, it won't be quite the same team, Tyson says, and they're calling
+themselves the Independents."
+
+"We'll call them down," laughed Lanny. "We play Logan the day after
+to-morrow, don't we?"
+
+"Yes, and that reminds me that I must see to getting notices printed and
+sent around. I wish you'd do that, Gordon. I've got to go out to the
+Point in half an hour. I'll write out the copy and all you'll have to do
+is to take it down to the printers. They'll strike them right off and
+distribute them for us this afternoon."
+
+"All right. I'll go there first thing. I'm going to see Morris for a few
+minutes this morning. Any little message I can take from you, Dick?"
+
+"Message? No, not that I know of. Tell him I hope he will hurry up and
+get well again."
+
+"Of course, but--ah!--is there any other member of the family----"
+
+"Oh, you run away!" laughed Dick.
+
+If Dick expected to find a chastened and much reformed pupil at the
+Point that Monday morning, he was doomed to disappointment. He gathered
+from a remark that the boy let fall that Mrs. Townsend had kept her
+promise to speak to him, but Dick doubted if she had accomplished much.
+And yet there was improvement visible. Harold had actually mastered two
+of the four lessons and Dick gathered some encouragement.
+
+"I guess we won't go on with this," he said toward the end of the
+period. "You haven't studied it, Harold. We'll take it over to-morrow.
+How did you like the game Saturday?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well! You fellows going to play us again?"
+
+"Maybe, some day. We play Logan Wednesday. Do you care to come over and
+see it? We might have another lesson in scoring."
+
+"I guess so. We're going to play a team from Bay Harbor on Saturday.
+Say, Loring says if I'll learn to score, I can be official scorer for
+the team. I guess I'll do it."
+
+"Fine! Then you come over Wednesday, and we'll try it again. You did
+very well the other day."
+
+"Did I really? Gee, but there's a lot to put down, isn't there? Caspar's
+got six games arranged for the team. Loring says if I'm scorer they'll
+take me with them when they go away to play."
+
+That was really no news to Dick, since it was at his suggestion that
+Loring had made the offer. But he pretended to be surprised and
+interested, and said all he could to encourage Harold to learn to score.
+And Harold became so enthusiastic that he walked over to the trolley car
+with Dick, talking volubly all the way.
+
+"I wish you'd make a real try at those lessons to-day, Harold," Dick
+said, at parting. "Won't you?"
+
+Harold grinned noncommittingly.
+
+But the next morning he went through with flying colors, and when Dick
+complimented him he laughed. "Gee, I can get that stuff all right if I
+want to," he said carelessly. "It's easy."
+
+"Why don't you, then?"
+
+"Aw, what's the use? I'd rather play around, anyway."
+
+"Don't you want to go to Rifle Point, Harold?"
+
+"I guess so. I don't care much. If I do, Loring will be always bossing
+me about. I'd rather go somewhere else, I guess."
+
+"Loring's being there will make things easier for you," said Dick. "I
+fancy he's pretty well liked and the fellows will be nice to you on his
+account. But I'll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won't get to
+Rifle Point this Fall."
+
+Harold opened his eyes widely. "I won't?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Certainly not. And you won't get there next Fall unless you buckle down
+and learn something."
+
+"Loring said I could!"
+
+"Loring probably thought you were more advanced than you are, then,"
+replied Dick. "I'm sorry, Harold; but facts are facts."
+
+"Then what'll I do this Winter?" asked the boy lugubriously.
+
+"How about another year where you were?"
+
+"I won't! I hate that place! I won't go back there, no matter what
+anyone says!"
+
+"Then you might have a tutor."
+
+That suggestion didn't seem to make much of a hit. Harold scowled for a
+minute in silence. Then: "Don't you think I could get in this Fall,
+Lovering, if--if I studied hard?"
+
+Dick hesitated.
+
+"I'm entered, you know," pleaded Harold. "I should think I might,
+Lovering."
+
+"Yes, you might," returned Dick grimly, "but it would mean studying a
+good deal differently than the way you've been studying, Harold. It
+would mean getting your nose right down into the books, putting your
+whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime. Think you could do
+that?"
+
+It was Harold's turn to hesitate. Finally, though, he nodded.
+
+"Well, do you think you _would_ do it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Sure, if--if you'll help me!"
+
+"I'll help you, all right, Harold. But there must be no changing your
+mind about it later. If we start this thing, we're going to keep it up.
+If you'll work honestly and do the very best you know how, I'll get you
+so you can pass the exams this Fall. What do you say? Is it a bargain?"
+
+"You bet!" said Harold.
+
+"All right. Hand me those books, please." Dick turned the pages and made
+new marks on the margins of them. "There; we'll start off with eight
+pages instead of four, Harold. We've got to pretty nearly break all
+existing records, I guess."
+
+Harold whistled softly. "Gee!" he murmured. "Eight pages of that stuff!"
+Dick looked across inquiringly. Harold squared his shoulders with the
+suggestion of a swagger. "Oh, I'll do it, all right!" he said. "You just
+watch me!"
+
+Wednesday's game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic
+field than had the Saturday contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets
+of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received
+only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was
+one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan
+pitchers--she used two of them--were easy for the home-team batsmen,
+while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two of Logan's runs resulted
+from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender,
+and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an
+atrocious throw to second.
+
+On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone after breakfast. It was
+Louise Brent at the other end of the line, and Louise informed him that
+Morris wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. "It's something
+about the automobile," explained Louise. "There's a man here to look at
+it, Gordon."
+
+Gordon promised to go right over, and did so. What passed in the sick
+chamber is not to be set down here, but later Gordon went out to the
+stable and stood around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge on the
+end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically and grunted
+at intervals. Finally:
+
+"About fifty dollars will do it," he said, in a sad tone of voice.
+"There'll have to be new spokes set in that wheel, and them fenders'll
+have to be straightened out again, and it'll need a new lamp and the
+radiator's sprung and likely leaks and----"
+
+"Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?" asked Gordon.
+
+"I don't know how good it was when it was new," responded the man
+dolefully. "But fifty dollars'll fix it up in good shape, likely."
+
+"All right. I'll tell him, and he will let you know. Could you start on
+it right away?"
+
+"Likely I could. I'd have to haul it down to my place, though."
+
+"How long would it take?"
+
+"Two or three weeks, likely."
+
+"All right. Much obliged. We'll let you know for certain to-morrow.
+Fifty dollars is the cheapest you could do it for?"
+
+"Well"--the man scratched his head reflectively--"maybe I could do it
+for forty-five, if I didn't find anything else the matter with it.
+Likely there ain't."
+
+They called him "Mr. Likely" during the following three weeks, for which
+period of time the runabout was in his care. Mr. Likely was a born
+pessimist, and about every two days he called up the Brents' house to
+inform whoever answered the telephone that "that wheel's a lot worse'n I
+thought it was, and'll likely have to have a new rim," or "I got to send
+out West for a new lamp, and it'll likely take two weeks or more." But,
+to anticipate, Mr. Likely made a good job of it, and in the course of
+time the blue runabout was returned to the Brents' stable, shining and
+polished like a brand-new car. By that time the family had moved out to
+the cottage at the Point, and it was Gordon who saw the automobile run
+into the carriage-room under its own power and who locked the door
+afterward and pocketed the key.
+
+Morris' leg had knitted so well by the time Clearfield played Springdale
+that he was allowed to make the trip to the neighboring town in a
+carriage and witnessed the contest from a position far more comfortable
+than the sun-smitten boards of the grandstand. That was a pretty good
+game to watch, too. There was plenty of hitting on both sides, enough
+errors to add interest, and several rattling good plays. The game was in
+doubt until the last inning, when Clearfield, with a one-run margin,
+trotted into the field to do her best to hold the home team scoreless.
+Tom Haley had been touched up for eight or nine hits--Dick and Harold
+made it eight, but the Springdale scorer insisted on nine--and, as luck
+would have it, the head of the local batting list was up when the last
+of the ninth began. But Tom and Lanny worked together finely, and,
+although one runner got as far as second, the game ended with a
+spectacular catch by Fudge in deep center, and Clearfield went home with
+the ball. The final score was 7 to 6, and Clearfield derived a lot of
+satisfaction from that victory.
+
+The Saturday before she had played Locust Valley, and had been pretty
+badly defeated, and the following Wednesday she had barely pulled out of
+the game against Corwin with a victory. Corwin had journeyed to
+Clearfield for the contest and the club treasury had had another
+twenty-odd dollars added to it. What puzzled Manager Dick Lovering those
+days was the interest displayed by the whole team in the condition of
+the exchequer. It seemed to Dick that every fellow was showing a
+strangely commercial spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE LIVE WIRES
+
+
+The matter of a new athletic field dragged. Two more meetings had been
+held by the committee, and several trips of inspection had been made to
+near-by fields, but no decision had been reached. In the meanwhile, the
+surveyors had shown activity and had run lines through the old field and
+even demolished a section of the fence. It was a question whether the
+team would be able to use the diamond much longer, although inquiries
+failed to elicit any definite information from the men who were doing
+the surveying. The football enthusiasts were becoming impatient. The
+prospect of having no better place to hold practice the next month than
+an empty lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad didn't please
+them, and they demanded action.
+
+Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, the principal, had left Clearfield on his
+summer vacation, and several other members of the High School faculty
+were also out of town, and the committee showed a disposition to await
+their return. The hope was several times expressed that, since Mr. Brent
+had done nothing with the field so far, he might postpone cutting it up
+until next year. But when the surveyors got to work that hope seemed
+idle, and at last a public meeting was called at which the Athletic
+Committee was to make a report and recommend the leasing of what was
+known as Tilden's Meadow for a term of two years. The meadow was a mile
+from Clearfield and on the trolley route to Rutter's Point, and
+consisted of about fourteen acres of fairly level turf. Only sufficient
+space for a football field and diamond was to be used, and the rest of
+the land was to remain as at present. Mr. Tilden was to keep the grass
+cut in return for the hay and was to receive one hundred dollars a year.
+There was no question of having a running track, for the owner
+absolutely refused to allow one to be laid out, and that, at first
+glance, seemed a great objection to the project. But, as several of the
+committee pointed out, there was no money on hand to build a track even
+if Mr. Tilden would allow it. The plan was to make use of the Y. M. C.
+A. field, a small enclosure behind the Association's building on
+Lafayette Street, for training purposes, and hold the meets with
+Springdale at the latter's grounds until Clearfield could secure a track
+of its own.
+
+A piece of land sufficiently large for all athletic purposes was to be
+had across the river and fairly handy to the G Street Bridge, but it was
+next to the railroad tracks and the mills and the sentiment of the
+female members of the High School was strongly opposed to it. "It would
+be horrid!" they declared indignantly. "The smoke and soot from the
+engines and the mill chimneys would spoil our dresses and hats. And,
+besides, we'd have to walk a whole block through dust up to our
+shoe-tops!"
+
+In the face of such weighty opposition the committee gave way, and the
+North Side location was abandoned. Only Tilden's meadow remained then,
+and to that, too, there was much opposition. Many thought it too far
+from town; others pointed out that, since it was unfenced, there would
+be no way of keeping persons from witnessing games without paying, and
+still others dwelt on the lack of a track. The Athletic Committee was
+not to be envied.
+
+Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning. Dick had got into the
+habit lately of walking over to the Brents' in the morning before going
+out to the Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the car,
+although it is true that by retracing his steps two blocks he could get
+the trolley at B Street and consequently went only seven blocks out of
+his way. But seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is quite
+a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered by the interest in
+his recovery which led Dick so far afield four or five mornings a week.
+Dick began by taking books to Morris, but his library was soon
+exhausted, and after that he continued to call just the same. Of course
+he always saw Morris, and equally of course Louise appeared at some
+period of his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to have doubts
+as to being the chief attraction. At all events he very frequently left
+Dick for his sister to entertain and it wasn't apparent that Dick
+mourned his absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and
+sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should not have been quite
+satisfied with her company.
+
+On the morning in question, the morning of the Wednesday following the
+Springdale game, Morris had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to
+the gate and back and having his proposition declined, wandered away
+toward the tennis court, leaving Dick and Louise on the front steps,
+which, at nine o'clock in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had
+brought up the subject of the athletic field and both Morris and Louise
+had had their say. Morris, who was an ardent football enthusiast and
+played a good game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact that,
+with practice commencing in another three weeks or so, no place had been
+provided for it. Louise had reminded him gently that the doctor held out
+slight hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris had briefly
+and succinctly informed them that the doctor was an old granny and
+didn't know what he was talking about. When he had gone Louise said:
+
+"You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa not to take the field,
+but he wouldn't listen to us. He said the school could find another
+place to play on without trouble. He seems to think that all we need is
+a back yard or a vacant lot! I don't think papa ever saw a game of
+baseball or football in his life."
+
+"It is too bad that he has to cut that field up," replied Dick, "but I
+don't see any reason why he should consider us any. He's been very good
+to let us use it so long. And he's never charged us a penny, you know."
+
+"May Scott told me yesterday that her father had told her that the field
+might not be cut up after all. It seems that the mayor or whoever it is
+that has the say about such things doesn't want papa to put the street
+through there unless he builds it up to some grade or other. I don't
+understand about it. And papa doesn't want to do that."
+
+"Yes, I heard something of that sort. I believe the matter is to come up
+at a meeting this week. It's the board of aldermen, I think, who are
+against it. It seems that the city has established a new grade out there
+and the present grade is several feet below it. I suppose it means that
+your father would have to do a good deal of filling in if he put the
+street through. Otherwise the city wouldn't accept it."
+
+"It sounds awfully complicated to me," said Louise. "I just wish father
+would change his mind about it. I almost wish the--the aldermen would
+tell him he couldn't do it!"
+
+"Perhaps they will," laughed Dick. "But in that case your father would
+probably build to the new grade. So there isn't much hope, I fear. No, I
+guess it's up to us to move to new quarters. It's a queer thing that in
+a town of this size there isn't a place we can use."
+
+"I know. And that field they're talking about now is so hard to get to!
+Of course, there's the trolley, but it's been such fun to walk out to
+the games and have the field so near home. Your team plays a game this
+afternoon, doesn't it, Dick?"
+
+"A sort of a game. We're going to play a team called the Live Wires at
+four o'clock. They're fellows in the mills and I guess they haven't
+played together much. It'll be sort of a practice affair for us. Tom
+Haley can't play and Curtis Wayland is going to pitch for us. You
+haven't been to any of the games, have you?"
+
+"No one has asked me," she laughed. "Morris has been laid up and----"
+
+"Would you care to go Saturday? We play the Hemlock Camp fellows. I
+guess they have a pretty good team."
+
+"I'd love to!"
+
+"Then I----" Dick paused and frowned. "The trouble is," he went on
+apologetically, "I'll have to be on the bench a good deal of the time.
+Perhaps you'd rather not go."
+
+"I shouldn't mind. Just come and see me now and then, Dick."
+
+"Really? Then I'll get Gordon or one of the fellows to call for you
+about half-past two."
+
+"Indeed?" asked Louise coldly. "Why Gordon--or one of the fellows,
+please?"
+
+"Why--why--because," stammered Dick, "I thought probably you'd rather
+not--That is, I get along so slowly, you know----"
+
+"Dick Lovering, you were going to say you thought I wouldn't want to
+walk with you! Weren't you?"
+
+"Well, something of the sort. You see----"
+
+"No, I don't see at all," she responded with suspicious sweetness. "I
+shall be very glad to go to the game with you, Dick, but I refuse to be
+palmed off on 'Gordon or one of the fellows!'"
+
+"Then I'll be here for you at two-thirty, Louise. It isn't very far,
+after all; only three blocks, you know."
+
+"I ought to know," she said dryly, "since I can see the top of the
+grandstand this minute. I may decide, however, that I want to go by way
+of the Common, Dick."
+
+Dick smiled doubtfully. "We-ell, that's all right. I'm game! Now I guess
+I'd better be getting along."
+
+"The car just went in," said Louise. "You've got nearly a quarter of an
+hour yet. How are you getting along with your pupil?"
+
+"Finely! I tell him two or three times a week that we'll never be able
+to do it, and he doubles up his fists and glares at me and wants to
+fight--almost. He's an awfully stubborn little chap and he's simply made
+up his mind that he's going to get into school this Fall, and I think he
+will, too. He will if I can keep him mad!" And Dick, smiling, went
+swinging off to catch the car.
+
+That game with the Live Wires wasn't as easy for Clearfield as Dick and
+Gordon and most of the others expected it to be. Of course Way wasn't
+much of a pitcher, and that had to be reckoned with, but even allowing
+for that the Live Wires showed up a lot better than anticipated. From a
+financial standpoint the game was a huge success, in spite of the fact
+that the admission had been lowered to fifteen cents to entice the mill
+workers to attend. Attend they did, and "rooted" so lustily and
+incessantly for their team that poor Way was more than once up in the
+air. Young Tim Turner played in right field and Jack Tappen went over to
+left in place of Way. Tim didn't do so badly, since out of three chances
+he got two flies and only muffed the third because the crowd hooted so
+loudly.
+
+It was quite a tight game up to the fifth inning, with both pitchers
+suffering badly at the hands of the opposing batsmen and both infields
+guilty of many stupid errors. But in the fifth Clearfield landed on
+Kelly, the Live Wires' pitcher, and batted around before they were
+stopped, adding seven runs to the six already accumulated. In the
+seventh the opposing team returned the compliment and had Way dancing
+out of the path of liners and giving bases on the least provocation. But
+the infield steadied down then and only three runs came over for the
+Live Wires. The final score was fourteen to eight and Dick, who had
+acted as gateman in Tim's absence, turned over nearly seventeen dollars
+to himself as treasurer. So, on the whole, the game was a success.
+
+When Dick got home after the game his mother told him that a Mr. Potter,
+from the _Reporter_, had called to see him and would be back about
+eight. Gordon came over after supper and was still there when the
+representative of the newspaper repeated his call. Mr. Potter, a
+wide-awake, energetic young man of twenty-five or six years, professed
+his pleasure at finding Gordon on hand. "Because," he said as he took a
+chair in the Loverings' little parlor, "I want to talk about another
+game of ball between your team and the Point. I wrote the story of the
+last game, by the way. I don't know whether you saw it?"
+
+"Yes, we read it," said Dick. "It was awfully good, I thought."
+
+"I used to do that sort of stuff in Hartford. Well, say, fellows, how
+about another game? Anything doing along that line?"
+
+"Yes, we're to play the Point again later. There hasn't been any date
+set yet, though."
+
+"Well, that's good. I mean I'm glad you're going to get together again.
+Folks who saw that game enjoyed it. There's nothing like a game of ball
+to bring folks out and give them a good time. Now, Stevens--he's my boss
+on the _Reporter_, you know--Stevens wants to get up a rousing good game
+for the final one, see? You and what's-his-name out at the Point set a
+date; make it some Saturday, of course; and let me know and the
+_Reporter_ will whoop things up. How would it do if we got the retail
+tradesmen or someone to offer a prize? Say a silver cup or a phonograph
+or a set of books or something? What the _Reporter_ wants to do is to
+stir up some excitement; see? Get a big crowd there, have the Mayor
+throw out the ball, get folks pulling for the home team and all that
+sort of thing. Great scheme, eh? What do you fellows think?"
+
+The boys looked both doubtful and perplexed.
+
+"Why, I don't know, Mr. Potter, that we want to make a--a Roman holiday
+of it," objected Dick. "We started up the team just to have some fun,
+you see."
+
+"Well, you'll have your fun, won't you?" asked the newspaper man
+eagerly. "Don't mind winning a prize and making a little money, too, do
+you? Look here, fellows, I'm keen on this. I want to make it go. To tell
+the truth, it was my idea. I put it up to Stevens and he fell for it.
+This town needs livening up. Say, honest, we could have the finest sort
+of a hullabaloo without half trying!"
+
+"I don't see why not, Dick," observed Gordon, thinking a good deal of
+the money side of the project.
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds sort of like a four-ring circus,
+doesn't it?" He asked. "Still, I don't mind. I dare say it would amuse
+folks."
+
+"Amuse 'em! Say, I'll guarantee to have 'em talking nothing but baseball
+in a week! I'll get 'em so they'll be offering fancy prices for the
+first row in the grandstand!"
+
+The boys laughed. There was something infectious in the man's enthusiasm
+and the proposed affair began to loom up as a huge and very amusing
+lark.
+
+"Do you really think you can do it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Watch me! I'll run a story to-morrow on the first page that
+negotiations are under way looking to a deciding game, see? And I'll
+hint that there is so much feeling between the two teams that the
+outcome is doubtful. Then----"
+
+"That's hardly truthful, is it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Well, maybe I can get around that," was the untroubled reply. "I'll say
+that the folks at the Point are so certain that their team will win that
+they're willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third game."
+
+"You've got some imagination," laughed Gordon.
+
+"Have to have in my business," replied Mr. Potter with satisfaction.
+"You trust me to work up the excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go
+the limit. We'll print your score-cards for you, and--that reminds me.
+How about a band? Ought to have a band there, oughtn't we?"
+
+"Bands cost a good deal," Gordon objected.
+
+"What of it? Why, say, we'll have three or four hundred folks to see
+that game! We'll get 'em in from the country and over from Springdale
+and Corwin and from miles around. It might be a good idea----" Mr.
+Potter paused and stared into space a moment. Then he nodded vehemently.
+"That's the scheme! I'll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that
+afternoon. Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday."
+
+Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in amazement.
+
+"Why--why he wouldn't do that, would he?" gasped Gordon. "Not just for a
+ball game?"
+
+"Sure, he would, if the _Reporter_ got after him hard. Say, you see that
+Point fellow, whatever his name is, and let me know by day after
+to-morrow. And don't put it off too long. Let's strike while the iron's
+hot. Folks want to see baseball now. In another three weeks it'll be
+about out of season. Well, that's all. Glad to have met you fellows."
+Mr. Potter shook hands briskly. "We'll give Clearfield a ball game she
+won't forget! Good-night. I'll see you again in a day or two."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MR. POTTER GETS BUSY
+
+
+When he was gone the two boys looked at each other a moment and then
+began to laugh.
+
+"Rather takes your breath away, doesn't he?" gasped Gordon.
+
+"I should say so! And of all crazy stunts----"
+
+"Get out! It's going to be a heap of fun! I'm for it--strong!"
+
+"So I see. But maybe the Pointers won't care to take part in such a
+silly affair."
+
+"Why not? Why, we'll offer them twenty-five per cent. of the gate
+receipts and they'll be dead anxious."
+
+"Pshaw! They don't need any money. What would they do with it?"
+
+"Do with it? Why--why, what would anyone do with it? Eat it, of course!"
+
+"That's what I'd like to know. What are _we_ going to do with it, for
+instance?"
+
+"Oh, there's a lot of things we can do with it, Dick. We might--might
+give it to charity or--or--oh, lots of things!"
+
+"Well, we're in for it, anyway. I'll talk to Caspar to-morrow. I guess
+two weeks from next Saturday would be a good date. The trouble is
+they've got a lot of games arranged and they may not be able to play
+us."
+
+"You tell them what this Potter chap says and whoop it up, Dick. They
+can cancel a game if they want to."
+
+True to his word, Mr. Potter started the ball rolling the next morning.
+The _Reporter_ contained an announcement on the front page under a big
+head:
+
+                            MAY PLAY OFF TIE
+                CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT BALL TEAMS
+                    NEGOTIATE FOR THIRD GAME--BITTER
+                             RIVALRY EXISTS
+
+"Who has the better ball team, Clearfield or Rutter's Point? That's the
+question that is agitating both this community and the summer colony at
+the end of the trolley. And, if present plans carry, it is a question
+that will soon be settled definitely, and, we hope, to the satisfaction
+of Clearfield. Negotiations are to be opened to-day between
+representatives of the two teams looking to a third and deciding contest
+to be played on the High School field some time between now and the end
+of the month. Each nine has won one game and each nine claims to be a
+little better than the other. Over at the Point they are so certain that
+they have the champion bunch of players that they're willing to do most
+anything to secure another game with Clearfield. At this end of the line
+there is an equally strong conviction to the effect that our own
+aggregation has more than a shade on the Point team. That's the way it
+stands now, but the _Reporter_ hopes to be able to announce in another
+day or two that the managers and backers of the rival teams have met and
+agreed on a deciding game. In which case we predict that those who are
+fortunate enough to witness the final battle will see a struggle they
+won't forget in a long time. Watch for developments!"
+
+Besides that highly-colored effusion there was a short editorial inside
+in which the writer extolled athletics in general and baseball in
+particular. In twenty lines the writer alluded to Greek athletes, Roman
+games, Christopher Mathewson, Tyrus Cobb, the American Eagle, the Spirit
+of Fair Play and Clearfield. The style of the two productions was so
+much alike that Dick and Gordon decided that Mr. Potter was responsible
+for both.
+
+"I hope," said Dick, "that Caspar won't see this until I've prepared him
+for it. He will think we've gone crazy!"
+
+As it happened, however, Caspar Billings was much too busy playing
+tennis that morning to read the _Clearfield Reporter_, and when Dick met
+him he knew nothing of Mr. Potter's activities. But five minutes later
+he had found the paper and was chuckling enjoyably over the story. "It's
+great!" he declared. "That fellow ought to be working in New York. He's
+lost in Clearfield. Say, we'll have more fun than a picnic out of this,
+Lovering. What sort of a prize did he say?"
+
+"A cup or a phonograph or--or something like that."
+
+"Me for a phonograph!" laughed Caspar. "Now, when can we play? Of
+course, we'll go over to your field. Have to, anyway. How about two
+weeks from Saturday?"
+
+"That's the day I was going to suggest," replied Dick.
+
+"That's all right for us. We had a game scheduled with a nine from the
+Ocean House at Traskville, but they telephoned the other day that they
+couldn't make up a team. That gives What's-his-name, your newspaper
+friend, a fortnight to work up the excitement. And I'll bet you he will
+do it!"
+
+"I guess there's no doubt about that," replied Dick. "That's settled,
+then, and I'll let Potter know. Did I tell you he wanted to get the
+Mayor to declare a holiday and have the stores close?"
+
+"Great Scott, no!" chuckled Caspar. "He's a wonder. Say, why don't you
+suggest to him that it would be a bully idea to have the Governor issue
+a proclamation? Wonder if the New York stock market will close,
+Lovering."
+
+"It will if Potter thinks of it," laughed Dick. "Well, I must be going.
+I'll see you again next week and we'll arrange about an umpire."
+
+"_An_ umpire!" scoffed Caspar. "We'll have to have two of them for this
+game; one at the plate and one on bases. Maybe your friend Potter can
+persuade President Johnson to officiate. This is going to be some game,
+Lovering!"
+
+"It's going to be a circus," replied Dick. "I dare say they'll be
+selling popcorn and peanuts there!"
+
+"Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I'm crazy about it. By the way, how
+are you and young Townsend getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the
+kid thinks you're about the finest thing that ever walked on--I
+mean----"
+
+"Ever hobbled on two crutches," laughed Dick. "Well, Harold and I pull
+together pretty well these days. The boy is really working like a slave,
+Billings. I didn't think he could do it."
+
+"He's a heap more decent than he was the first of the season. You always
+wanted to kick him then. Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose
+he's told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn't do so badly,
+either. If you criticize his way of scoring he looks at you haughtily
+and says, 'This is the way Lovering does it, and he knows!'"
+
+"You'll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your scorer doesn't do you
+justice, Billings. Good-bye!"
+
+It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational aspect of the third
+contest with Rutter's Point. Fudge loved excitement and color and
+romance, and for that reason the _Reporter's_ daily items about the
+soul-stirring event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book and
+almost filled it with the amazing articles that appeared from Mr.
+Potter's feverish and versatile pen. On the morning after Dick's call on
+Caspar Billings the _Reporter_ blazed forth at the top of the third
+column of the first page as follows:
+
+                          THIRD GAME AGREED ON
+
+               CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT TO PLAY OFF
+               TIE ON AUG. 27--LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT
+               STAKE--WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.
+
+What the captains said was that they expected a close game and didn't
+care to predict the winner. At least, that's what they really said. In
+Mr. Potter's account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot more.
+Gordon read his remarks with astonishment and began to wonder whether he
+had not possibly said all those things after all!
+
+[Illustration: "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"]
+
+Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and
+did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately, several of
+Louise's girl friends were there and Dick's frequent absences from her
+side were not so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned
+dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever captain, played the sort of
+baseball one reads of. The Camp's pitcher was something of a marvel and
+soon had Dick's charges eating out of his hand, to use Harold's
+expression. The contest developed into a pitcher's battle in which Tom
+had slightly the worst of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by
+the score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting as some
+previous contests, it was at least nearly free of errors and full of
+fast, clean playing. Dick regretted on the way home that Louise had seen
+a defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that she had enjoyed
+it all very much.
+
+"You must come a week from to-day," said Dick. "Lesterville is coming to
+play us a return game and that will be close and exciting, I think.
+Would you care to?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, only we'll be at the Point then. Still, I could come over
+on the trolley, couldn't I? I'll get Morris to come with me. I wouldn't
+think of having you come way over there for me, Dick."
+
+Dick expressed his entire willingness to go to the Point and escort her
+to town, but Louise refused to allow it. "If you'll come and see us
+during the game it will do just as well," she said. Dick didn't think
+so, but he said nothing.
+
+The mass meeting to take action on securing a new athletic field came
+off that evening in the High School assembly hall and, after much
+discussion, the meeting endorsed the committee's plan to lease Tilden's
+meadow for a term of two years. The committee reported that it had a
+balance on hand of twenty-eight dollars and forty-six cents and asked
+for more money. It was voted to appoint canvassers to visit the students
+and the graduates, and, if not enough money was secured from them, to
+ask the public to assist. Dick found himself one of the committee on
+subscriptions. Lanny was another. They sympathized with each other on
+their way home and were gibed at by Gordon and Fudge. Fudge offered Dick
+five cents then and there, and, his offer being unexpectedly accepted,
+had to borrow the nickel from Gordon.
+
+The next Monday the _Reporter_ announced that a silver cup was to be
+donated by the merchants as a prize for the team winning the baseball
+game and that it would be on exhibition all next week in the window of
+Wetherell's jewelry store. Tuesday afternoon Mr. Potter called on Dick
+with a proof of the poster which the _Reporter_ was getting out. It was
+a gay piece of work in red and green ink and well calculated to attract
+the eye. In the center was a picture of a batsman with a flashing eye
+and a poised bat. That was printed in red. The lettering was in green
+and announced: "Championship Baseball! Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
+High School Field, Saturday, September third, two-thirty o'clock. Music
+by Nagel's Band. Admission 50 Cents, Reserved Seats 75 Cents. Tickets at
+Howland's Drug Store, and at the Field before the game."
+
+"We're going to use a heavy cardboard stock," explained Mr. Potter, "and
+we'll strike off a hundred of 'em. We're going to charge you just what
+the stock and the labor cost us and no more."
+
+"What about the score-cards?" asked Dick.
+
+"Won't cost you a cent. I've got about a dozen advertisements and those
+will pay for the cards. Another thing we're going to do is to run an ad
+of the game on Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next week."
+
+"That's very kind," murmured Dick. "You really think folks will pay
+seventy-five cents for seats? Wouldn't it be better to make the prices
+fifty cents and a quarter?"
+
+"I don't think so, Lovering. We want 'em to understand that what they're
+going to see is a real game of ball. They'll pay the price all right.
+That reminds me of another thing. How would it do for you fellows to get
+hold of a crackerjack pitcher for this game? You could get one for
+thirty dollars or so. There's Lafferty, of Providence, for instance. I
+dare say he'd twirl for you for twenty-five and his expenses. He's a
+corker, too! I've seen him work."
+
+"I guess not," replied Dick. "I think we'll stick to home talent. It
+seems a bit fairer."
+
+"Well, just as you say. This fellow Mason, though, is pretty good, and
+everyone would like to see the home team win that game. Better think it
+over. If you change your mind you let me know and I'll attend to the
+matter for you. I suppose you chaps are keeping up practice pretty
+well?"
+
+"Yes, we practice every day except when there's a game."
+
+"That's the ticket! You play Lesterville next Saturday, don't you? Well,
+I'll give a good write-up of the game on Monday. Got to keep the
+excitement going."
+
+When the newspaper man had gone Dick went out to the porch and sank into
+his favorite chair beside the little table. He was tired and the day was
+a scorching hot one. There had been a solid three hours that morning
+with Harold Townsend and, although Harold had done his share without a
+whimper, it had been pretty hard for teacher as well as pupil. Dick
+closed his eyes and frowned in the green shadow of the vines. Was Harold
+going to make it? There were times when Dick was sure that he would, but
+also there were moments, usually when, as to-day, he was fagged out,
+when he had his doubts. If Harold could remember what he had learned
+when the time came he would undoubtedly get through, but there was
+always the danger that he wouldn't. Dick sighed. At least, though, he
+reflected, his frown fading, he was doing his honest best for the boy.
+And--and here the frown quite disappeared--he had made a nice lot of
+money that was greatly needed. He would, he told himself, have enough by
+the middle of the month, when Harold went off to Rifle Point to put the
+summer's work to the test, to pay for a new heater for the house. That
+was the most necessary improvement of the many that were needed. For the
+last two or three years the old furnace, never satisfactory, had quite
+failed to keep them comfortable in cold weather. Dick was wondering how
+much the hardware man would allow him for it when the gate clicked and
+Gordon and Morris Brent came up the path.
+
+Morris still used his crutches, but, as he explained, the doctor had
+told him yesterday that he might lay them aside in another week. "And
+I'll be mighty glad to," he added. "They're rotten things to have to get
+about with." Then his eye fell on Dick's crutches, leaning within reach,
+and he colored. "I guess I oughtn't to kick, though," he added hastily.
+
+Dick smiled. "They are awkward if you're not used to them, I suppose,
+Morris. I'm glad you're getting on so well. Gordon says you're going to
+move to the Point this week."
+
+Morris nodded. "Wednesday," he said. "I want you and Gordon to come out
+some evening and have dinner. Will you?"
+
+"Why, yes, I'd be glad to, Morris. Thank you."
+
+"Then I'll settle on a day with the folks. Mother told me to tell you
+she wanted very much to have you. Louise, too. How would Saturday do?"
+
+"All right, I think. We have a game Saturday, but I dare say it will be
+over by five. What time do you dine?"
+
+"Seven. That'll give you heaps of time. I'm going to fetch Louise in to
+see the game and we can all go back together." Morris turned to Gordon.
+"That suit you?" he asked.
+
+"Finely. Could we get the quarter of six car, do you think? I'd like
+mighty well to get a swim before dinner. Got an extra bathing suit out
+there?"
+
+"You can take mine. What do you want to do with this?" Morris held up a
+book in a red cloth cover.
+
+"Oh, I brought that over for you, Dick," said Gordon. "That is, I
+borrowed it and he brought it. Thought you might like to look it over."
+
+"Much obliged," said Dick, accepting the volume and reading the title
+rather puzzledly. "'The Automobile; it's Care and Management.'
+Er--what----" He looked from Gordon to Morris. "What's the idea,
+fellows? I'm much obliged, of course, but why should I want to study up
+on autos, please?"
+
+"Oh, you like to know how to do everything," replied Gordon carelessly.
+"That's mighty interesting, isn't it, Morris?"
+
+"Great!" agreed the other enthusiastically. Dick still looked puzzled,
+but opened the book and glanced at two or three of its pages.
+
+"All right, I'll have a go at it some time. It does look interesting.
+Thank you." He laid the volume on the table. "What ever became of that
+car of yours, Morris?"
+
+"It's home. I'm going to sell it. I paid Stacey the rest of the money I
+owed him the other day. He's a mean little runt. Don't want to buy it,
+do you, Dick?"
+
+Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford it. It
+would be sort of handy for me to get around in, though, wouldn't it?
+Look here!" He viewed the two boys searchingly. "You fellows didn't
+bring me this book expecting I'd get daffy about automobiles and buy
+that one of yours, did you?"
+
+"Of course not," disclaimed Gordon hurriedly. "Besides, Morris has a
+buyer for that car already. That is, he thinks he has."
+
+"All right. Still I don't see why you think I want to read up on
+automobiles," said Dick. "What's the use of knowing how to run a car and
+grease its joints if I haven't got one and couldn't run it if I had?"
+
+"Couldn't run it! Of course you could run it," said Gordon. "Couldn't
+he, Morris?"
+
+"Easy! It's nothing to do. I could show you how in two days. Why----"
+
+But at that moment Morris encountered Gordon's warning look and
+subsided. Dick stared perplexedly.
+
+"I think you chaps are crazed by the heat," he said. "You've got
+automobiles on the brain. What you need, Gordie, is to get out and play
+ball. It must be about time to start for the field, too. By the way,
+Harry telephoned over at noon that he couldn't get out to-day."
+
+"Again? I'll bet anything Harry's father isn't keeping him away from
+practice. He's just lazy. I guess we'd better come down on him with that
+twenty-five cent fine!"
+
+"I'll go over with you and look on if you don't mind," said Morris. "You
+can't call me one of the enemy now, you know."
+
+"Glad to have you," responded Dick. "I'll put this book inside and we'll
+start along. We'll make a fine appearance," he laughed. "Two cripples
+and a crazy fellow!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+MR. BRENT TO THE RESCUE
+
+
+A big crowd turned out the following Saturday for the Lesterville game.
+As a manufacturing town Lesterville was something of a rival to
+Clearfield and baseball lovers of the latter place were eager to see the
+Lesterville players humbled. By half-past two--the game was scheduled
+for three o'clock--the stand was well filled. Dick's charges reached the
+field soon after the half-hour and began practice. They had, however,
+scarcely begun throwing the balls around when there was a commotion at
+the gate and Tim Turner was seen excitedly gesticulating toward Dick,
+who, near first base, was watching the team. Dick hurried across to the
+gate and found Tim trying to exclude a short, red-faced man in blue
+overalls.
+
+"He says he wants to get in to open the big gate," explained Tim. "He
+says they're going to begin work in here. They've got a cart down the
+street there and a lot of men and----"
+
+"Sure," said the man in overalls. "We're going to plow in here. Them's
+the orders."
+
+"But you can't do it now," exclaimed Dick. "We're going to play in half
+an hour. Those folks on the stand have paid to see the game. Can't you
+wait until Monday?"
+
+"We cannot," replied the man emphatically. "Mr. Brent give me the
+contract to build the street through here and me time's valuable. You'll
+have to play your game somewhere else, I'm thinking."
+
+"But we can't do that! There isn't any other place! Look here, Mr. Brent
+gave us permission to use this field and I'm sure he wouldn't want you
+to come and break up our game like this. The other fellows have come all
+the way from Lesterville to play us."
+
+"'Tis no affair of mine, young feller." The man tried to push by Dick
+and Tim, but many of the audience, attracted by the argument, had
+gathered around, and these, taking Dick's side, stood immovably in the
+way. The contractor showed anger. "Now you fellers let me through here
+till I open them gates down there," he blustered. "If you don't we'll
+break 'em down."
+
+"Try it!" said someone eagerly, and a laugh of approval went up.
+
+"I'll get the cops here if you make trouble for me an' me men! An' if
+it's trouble you're lookin' for----"
+
+"Oh, run away till the game's over, can't you?" asked another of the
+throng. "Be a sport! What's the good of busting up the fun?"
+
+"An' me losin' money while you fellers play ball, eh? What for would I
+be doin' that? You leave me get to the gates."
+
+"Nothing doing, friend! Better back out!"
+
+"Hold on a minute," said Dick quietly. "Will you wait fifteen minutes,
+Mister--er----"
+
+"Me name's Mullin," growled the contractor. "What'll I be waitin' fer?"
+
+"To give us a chance to see Mr. Brent about it."
+
+"I got me contract, an'----"
+
+"I know," said Dick soothingly. "That's all right. You've got a perfect
+right to come in here and do whatever you've got to do, but it's going
+to put us in an awful mess. Give us time to find Mr. Brent and see what
+he says about it, won't you?"
+
+"How long will it take?"
+
+"Not long. Say fifteen minutes. He's probably here in town. I'll ask his
+son. He's over there in the stand." Dick wasn't at all certain that
+Morris had arrived, but he risked it. The contractor hesitated and
+finally nodded surlily.
+
+"All right. I'll give you till three o'clock. Then I'm goin' in here,
+an' if anyone tries to stop me----"
+
+"I understand. Thank you. Tim, pass the gentleman inside until we settle
+this."
+
+"I'll wait here," said the contractor grimly.
+
+Dick hurried across to the stand and searched for Morris. Presently he
+found him, with Louise at his side, halfway up the slope.
+
+"Is your father in town, Morris?" he asked anxiously after he had
+greeted Louise.
+
+"I don't know. What's wanted, Dick?"
+
+Dick explained hurriedly and Morris whistled. "He may be at his office
+or he may be on his way out to the Point. He doesn't usually stay in
+town on Saturday afternoons in summer. I'll see if I can find him,
+though. Only thing is, it'll take me a long time to hobble over to his
+office."
+
+"I can do it quicker, I guess. Or, hold on! I know! I'll get Gordon to
+go. I'll be back presently."
+
+Dick hurried down to the diamond and summoned Gordon from first base.
+Practice was still going on, but in a desultory way, for most eyes had
+been turned toward the gate. As quickly as he could Dick explained what
+had happened. "He will do it for you if he will for anyone," ended Dick.
+"See if he won't call off the workmen until after the game or until
+Monday, Gordon. Morris says he may be at his office. If he isn't he's
+gone home to the Point. Try the telephone in that case. And try to get
+back here by three. That chap won't wait much longer."
+
+Gordon nodded and sped toward the gate just as the Lesterville team came
+onto the field. He was in his playing clothes, but there was no time to
+change them and he didn't, as a matter of fact, give much thought to
+them. It was five blocks to Mr. Brent's office in the bank building, and
+two of the blocks were long ones. Gordon did the distance in five
+minutes and leaped up the marble stairway to find a clerk just locking
+the outer door of the office.
+
+"Mr. Brent?" he gasped.
+
+"Gone home," replied the clerk, looking curiously at Gordon's attire and
+perspiring countenance. "He left about five minutes ago. You might catch
+him before he gets the trolley."
+
+Gordon raced off again and fortune was with him. Only a block down F
+Street he descried Mr. Brent in front of him walking briskly toward the
+car line and tapping the pavement with his cane. Gordon overtook him
+just over the Main Street crossing. Morris' father turned at the boy's
+breathless hail.
+
+"Ah, that you, Merrick? How do you do! Want to see me?"
+
+"Yes, sir, please!" gasped Gordon. "Mr. Brent, they're trying to get
+into the field, sir, to start work on it this afternoon. And we're
+playing Lesterville and there's a big crowd there, sir----"
+
+"You mean that Mullin is starting work there? Well, that's all right, my
+boy. I told him to."
+
+"Yes, sir, of course, but--but couldn't he wait until Monday, sir? We
+are going to play Lesterville, and they're here and there's a lot of
+folks paid to see the game."
+
+"Oh, that's it, is it? Why, I don't know, Merrick. What does Mullin say?
+It's his affair now. He has the contract for the work, you see."
+
+"He says he won't wait, Mr. Brent. But if you told him to----"
+
+"But really, Merrick, I haven't any right to interfere!"
+
+"It--it's your field, sir! And you said we could use it!"
+
+Mr. Brent frowned. "I said you could use it until I was ready to put the
+street through, Merrick. Wasn't that it?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied Gordon dejectedly. Mr. Brent drew his
+big gold watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped it open, frowned at it
+and snapped it shut again.
+
+"As a matter of fact, Merrick, if the city council hadn't held me up on
+that business you'd have lost your field weeks ago. You ought to be
+thankful for that. We're late on starting that work as it is and I
+prefer not to have any more delay. I'm sorry, but you boys will have to
+play your game somewhere else." He smiled, dropped his watch back to his
+pocket and turned toward the car line.
+
+"There isn't any other place, sir," said Gordon sadly.
+
+"No other place? Why, there must be lots of places! I've seen boys
+playing ball all sorts of places. There's a back-lot behind my offices,
+now. I've seen them playing there day after day--and making a lot of
+noise, too. Come now, Merrick, you're fibbing a little, aren't you?"
+
+"No, sir, really," Gordon answered earnestly. "You can't play a real
+game of baseball on a small lot, sir. I guess--I guess you've never seen
+one, Mr. Brent."
+
+"Seen a game of ball? N-no, I suppose not. I thought all you needed was
+an empty lot or a back-yard, Merrick. You say there isn't any other
+place?"
+
+"No, sir. We're going to lease a piece of ground out toward the Point,
+but we haven't got it yet, and, anyway, it isn't ready for playing on."
+
+"Too bad," said Mr. Brent sympathetically. "But, really, Merrick, you
+ought not to ask me to stop work in order that you can play baseball.
+That--that's a little too much, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so, sir," acknowledged Gordon dejectedly. "Only--we
+thought--maybe a half a day wouldn't make much difference----"
+
+"A half a day might make a lot of difference. Minutes count, my boy.
+You'll learn that some day. No, no, I can't interfere with Mullin. It's
+his job. If he wants to accommodate you, all right, but you mustn't
+expect me to interfere in his affairs, Merrick. Sorry. I'd like to
+oblige you."
+
+Gordon stared at the pavement. Mr. Brent coughed, turned away and
+hesitated. "Well, good-day, Merrick," he said finally.
+
+"Mr. Brent!" Gordon raised his head, his cheeks rather red. "Mr. Brent,
+you said once that--that if I ever wanted a favor--you----"
+
+"Hm; yes, I know I did."
+
+"Well, sir, I'd like awfully to have you do this for us."
+
+"Think that will square accounts, Merrick?"
+
+"Why--why, you don't owe me anything, sir," stammered Gordon, "but you
+said----"
+
+"Yes, and I'll keep my word." Mr. Brent sighed and looked regretfully
+down the street. "All right. Come on, then. I'll walk over with you and
+see what can be done."
+
+"Thank you," Gordon murmured as he fell into step beside the man.
+"It--it's awfully good of you, sir."
+
+"H'm," replied Mr. Brent dryly. "You evidently don't value your service
+to me very highly, Merrick. It doesn't occur to you, apparently, that
+you might ask a good deal more than this in return for what you did for
+Morris."
+
+"I--I never meant to ask for anything," murmured Gordon.
+
+"Hm. More fool you, then!"
+
+There was no more conversation. Mr. Brent walked briskly and it was but
+a minute or two after three when they reached the field. It was evident
+that they had got there none too soon, for the big gates halfway along
+the board fence were open and a wagon with a plow in it was drawn partly
+through it. That it was not all the way through was due to the fact that
+the audience, or a good part of it, had gathered at the point of attack
+and was doing its best to repel the contractor's men. Shouts and jeers
+and laughter came from the scene. At the ticket gate young Tim Turner,
+afraid to leave his post of duty, was peering longingly toward the
+turmoil. Mr. Brent strode more quickly.
+
+"Hm," he said, "I don't see that I was needed much, Merrick."
+
+Mullin, the contractor, very red of face and angry of eye, was berating
+the jeering crowd with the rough side of his tongue. Five laborers, two
+of them clutching the bridles of the horses, looked ready and eager for
+a fight. At sight of Mr. Brent a cheer went up from the crowd inside the
+gates, and Dick, anxious-eyed, fell back from where he had been vainly
+trying to avert trouble. Mr. Brent walked up to the contractor.
+
+"Get out, Mullin," he said. "Leave it until Monday."
+
+Mullin scowled hard. "An' who'll pay me for the time I'll be losin', Mr.
+Brent?" he demanded angrily.
+
+"I will," was the reply. "You ought to have seen, anyway, that the field
+was being used. Get your team out now. I'll settle for your loss."
+
+"That's all right, then," replied the contractor. "All I wants is me
+rights. Back 'em out, Jerry." And amidst the jeers of the spectators
+Mullin and his men retired, the gates were closed again and barred and,
+laughing and jostling, the defenders hurried back to secure their seats
+before others appropriated them, leaving Dick and the ball players and a
+few still curious ones at the gate. Among the latter was Morris, and it
+was Morris who, grinning broadly, came forward on his crutches.
+
+"Good stuff, dad," he said approvingly.
+
+Mr. Brent viewed him without enthusiasm. "You here?" he asked. "Where is
+your sister?"
+
+"In the stand, sir. I----"
+
+"You'd better go back and look after her, it seems to me," said Mr.
+Brent grimly. Morris's grin faded and, with a wink at Gordon, he hobbled
+back toward the seats.
+
+"We're awfully much obliged, sir," said Dick. "If it hadn't been for all
+these people, who had paid to see the game----"
+
+"Of course. I understand. You needn't thank me. Thank Merrick."
+
+The players went back to their places, Lesterville to the diamond to
+finish her warming up, and Clearfield to the bench. Gordon was left
+practically alone with Mr. Brent, even Dick deserting him. From beyond
+the fence came the angry bellow of the contractor's orders. "Leave the
+team here, Jerry," he was saying. "We'll be back Monday, an' I'd like to
+see the man that'll be stoppin' me then!"
+
+"Wouldn't you like to see the game, Mr. Brent, now that you're here?"
+asked Gordon at last. He ought to be with his team-mates, but he didn't
+want to walk away and leave Mr. Brent standing alone there by the gate.
+The latter, who had been looking curiously at the renewed activity of
+the Lesterville players, now glanced at his watch, grunted and nodded.
+
+"I might as well stay awhile," he replied. "Where do you pay?"
+
+"You needn't pay, sir. We're glad to have you see the game."
+
+"I prefer to pay," was the reply as Mr. Brent followed Gordon toward the
+stand. "Here, son!" He had caught sight of Tim Turner at the ticket gate
+and walked across to him. "What's the price?"
+
+"T-Twenty-five cents, sir," stammered Tim.
+
+Mr. Brent found two dimes and a nickel among his change, handed them to
+the awed Tim and went on. "Where's Morris?" he asked. "I'll sit with him
+a few minutes."
+
+Gordon didn't know where Morris was, but he called to Dick and Dick
+pointed him out. Then Gordon piloted Mr. Brent up the stand and by dint
+of much moving and shoving a place was made for him and Gordon,
+muttering his thanks again and getting a non-committal nod from Mr.
+Brent, took himself off.
+
+"I'm so glad, papa," said Louise gratefully. "It would have been horrid
+if they couldn't have played the game, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Would it?" Mr. Brent smiled and settled his cane between his knees.
+"Who are those young fellows out there, Morris?"
+
+"Those are the Lesterville players, sir. They're warming up for the
+game."
+
+"Warming up, eh? Then the game hasn't begun yet?"
+
+"No, sir. They're coming in now, though. It will start in a minute."
+
+"Need all this room for a game of ball, do they?"
+
+"Why, of course, papa," replied Louise. "Sometimes they hit the ball way
+over by the further fence there!"
+
+"That so? Well, let's see 'em do it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MR. BRENT TELEPHONES
+
+
+Perhaps a liking for baseball is latent in every American. Otherwise how
+explain the fact that Mr. Jonathan Brent, who, on his own showing, had
+never witnessed a game before in his life, watched that one with very
+evident interest? It was, of course, quite incomprehensible to him at
+first and both Morris and Louise had to do a lot of patient explaining.
+But by the end of the second inning their father had a very fair notion
+of what was going on, although he still was puzzled by many of the
+incidents. As when a Lesterville player tried to reach second after Will
+Scott had captured a foul behind third base and was thrown out by a
+scant foot. If it was a foul, argued Mr. Brent, that fellow on first
+shouldn't have left his base. No sooner was that explained--by Morris,
+since Louise's knowledge of baseball wasn't sufficient for the
+task--than Tom Haley was unfortunate enough to hit the Lesterville right
+fielder on the elbow. The umpire waved the squirming, dancing batter to
+first and Mr. Brent exclaimed: "Now, what's that for, Morris? He didn't
+hit the ball, did he?"
+
+At the end of the fourth inning, when Clearfield had managed to bat out
+a two run lead, Mr. Brent looked at his watch and announced his
+intention of leaving. "Guess you can finish this without me now," he
+said. "Mother will be wondering where I've gone to."
+
+"No, she won't," replied Louise. "Mama's gone to Mrs. Grey's this
+afternoon. Do stay and see just two more innings, papa."
+
+"Yes, don't leave us now, dad," said Morris. "You never can tell what's
+going to happen in a ball game!"
+
+Mr. Brent frowned, fidgeted and finally leaned back again. "Well," he
+said, "I'll see one more turn for each of 'em."
+
+But at the end of the seventh when, after Lesterville had gone ahead in
+the fifth, Clearfield came back with two doubles and a base on balls and
+evened up the score, Mr. Brent was still there and showed no signs of
+leaving. In fact, although we have only Morris' word for it--Louise
+remaining smilingly reticent on the point--when, in the eighth, with
+three Lesterville players on bases and only one out, Harry Bryan and
+Pete Robey executed a lightning double-play that retired the side
+without a tally, Mr. Brent's voice was to be heard with the others that
+went up in a shout of delight! And even Louise affirmed that, in the
+tenth inning, when Gordon rapped out the single that sent Harry Bryan
+across with the winning run Mr. Brent pounded approvingly with his cane
+and declared that "that Merrick boy was a smart one!"
+
+Ten to nine was the final tally and Dick and Harold Townsend, who had
+sat beside the manager during the entire game and kept a perfectly
+correct score--barring a mistake or two quickly set right by a
+surreptitious glance at Dick's columns--closed their score-books with
+delighted slams. Revenge is sweet, and this had been fairly won.
+
+Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable Harold
+journeyed together by trolley car to the Point and talked the game over
+with a wealth of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry party at
+the Brents' cottage that evening. Mr. Brent pretended to have found the
+game very tiresome and declared that he didn't see any sense in grown-up
+boys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the young folks, and Mrs.
+Brent, too, she having heard of her husband's doings, pretended that
+they believed him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his swim
+in the ocean before, borrowed Morris' suit and went in by moonlight. The
+cottage almost overhung the waves and the others, on the veranda,
+watched him glide in and out of the moon's path and supplied him with a
+lot of doubtless excellent advice on the subject of swimming. Still
+later, with Gordon once more among them, Louise brought out her mandolin
+and they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring Townsend and Caspar
+Billings joined the company and added their voices to the chorus. Then
+they talked some more; of the day's game, of the next Saturday's
+important contest--and the _Reporter's_ latest efforts--of school and a
+dozen other things.
+
+Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield, both comfortably
+tired and sleepy, and Gordon walked home with Dick. It was just before
+they reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise on his
+friend.
+
+"I've been thinking," announced Dick, "that there's one mighty good use
+we can put our money to, Gordie."
+
+"What money?" asked Gordon, with a yawn.
+
+"Why, the money we've made on the games. You see, if we have the crowd
+next week that Potter thinks we'll have we ought to be about two hundred
+and fifty dollars in pocket."
+
+"Easy! Then what?"
+
+"Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a track on the new field.
+How's that for a scheme?"
+
+"Why--er--oh, that's fine!" But Gordon's tone didn't sound terribly
+enthusiastic!
+
+Mr. Potter's prediction came true. By Monday Clearfield was undeniably
+baseball-mad. Even middle-aged and serious-minded merchants discussed
+the probable outcome of the third game between the home team and the
+Pointers when they met each other on the street or when they hobnobbed
+over the Fifty Cent Merchant's Lunch at Martin's Cafe. The younger
+element of the town was wrought up to a fine pitch of excitement. Those
+of its sterner sex who could do so went out to watch the Clearfield team
+practice in the afternoon, while the gentler sex, especially those with
+High School affiliations, became wildly partisan. A dozen or more girls,
+led by Grace Lovering, got together and manufactured a gorgeous pennant
+of purple and white silk, some four feet long, which, when completed,
+was hung behind the silver trophy in Wetherell's window and, like the
+handsome cup, was to be presented to the winner. It was Lanny who made
+the suggestion that the pennant was much too good looking to become the
+property of the Pointers and that it should be a perpetual trophy to be
+played for each year. The girls approved the suggestion and the
+_Reporter_ amended its previous statement regarding the flag. The
+trolley company announced a fare of one-half the usual rate for the
+round-trip on Saturday between Clearfield and near-by towns, and, while
+Mr. Potter failed to prevail on the Mayor to declare a public holiday,
+he did persuade the shop-keepers to agree to close their places of
+business between the hours of two and five. As a matter of fact, with
+few exceptions all of them were glad to do so, for they wanted to see
+that game as much as anyone!
+
+There was usually a crowd in front of Wetherell's jewelry store that
+week. In the front row one found a half-dozen or so of small urchins
+with their noses pressed closely against the plate-glass, while behind
+them stood a scattering of older persons admiring, criticizing and
+audibly reading the engraved inscription which informed the world that
+the cup was to be "Presented by the Retail Merchants of Clearfield to
+the ---- Baseball Club, Winners of the Clearfield Championship,
+September Third, Nineteen Hundred and----." It was a very attractive
+affair, that trophy; twelve inches high, with a fluted base and two
+scrolled handles and a polished ebony stand beneath it. It was generally
+conceded that the merchants had done themselves proud. The _Reporter_
+gave a picture of it and a half-column list of those who had subscribed.
+
+The town was liberally scattered with the red and green posters on
+Monday. They glared and shouted at one from every window. One was not
+allowed to forget for an instant that on the following Saturday
+afternoon the greatest and most important athletic event in the history
+of Clearfield was to be witnessed at the High School Field for the
+ridiculously moderate price of fifty cents--or seventy-five if you
+wanted to be sure of a seat!
+
+All this in spite of the fact that from every indication there would be
+no field to play on!
+
+Mr. Potter was at Dick's at a quarter past seven that morning. He was
+filled with dismay and wrath, and some of the things he said about Mr.
+Jonathan Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-five
+he hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a few minutes before nine he was
+back again, literally frothing at the mouth.
+
+"Say!" he almost shouted in response to Dick's anxious query. "Say! He
+didn't say a thing! He let me talk my head off, that is all he did! I
+told him that public opinion would be against him if he allowed that
+field to be demolished before the game, that Clearfield would be up in
+arms, that the _Reporter_ would deal editorially with the matter and not
+mince its words!" Mr. Potter faltered then.
+
+"What did he say to that?" asked Dick. "He must have said something!"
+
+"He said," replied the newspaper man subduedly, "that he controlled
+three-fifths of the stock of the _Reporter_ and he guessed the paper
+wouldn't be too hard on him!"
+
+Dick grinned. "Does he?"
+
+Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. "Yes, but I'd forgotten it. After that I
+had to--well, I had to tone down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn't be
+possible to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I told him
+about all the advertising that had been done and how everyone was
+looking forward to the game and all that, you know."
+
+"Yes? And he wouldn't agree?"
+
+"He said, 'Young man, get out!' Just that and not another word!"
+
+"Then I guess it's all off," said Dick regretfully. "It's too bad. Of
+course, we might play the game at the Point----"
+
+"We couldn't get the crowd over there. No, sir, it's got to be played
+here. You're certain there isn't another field anywhere?"
+
+"Absolutely certain."
+
+"Then there's just one thing to be done. It's a last resort and it
+doesn't promise well, but I'll try it."
+
+"What?" asked Dick.
+
+Mr. Potter sank his voice. "See the contractor," he said, "and buy him
+off. For a hundred dollars----"
+
+"A hundred dollars!" exclaimed his hearer. "Where'd we get it?"
+
+"Pshaw, we'll clear up two hundred easy if we can pull the game off!"
+
+"Well," replied Dick doubtfully, "but even so I don't believe Mullin
+would dare to do it."
+
+"Supposing, though, his men went on strike?" suggested the other with a
+wink. "He couldn't help himself then, could he?"
+
+"N-no, but--I don't like it, Mr. Potter. It's pretty under-hand, it
+seems to me. After all, we don't _have_ to play that game, and----"
+
+"Don't have to! You bet you have to! Look at that cup! Look at all the
+printing we've done; posters, score-cards, tickets! Look at----" But
+words failed him and he seized his hat from the table. "Here, I've got
+to get busy! That Irishman may be plowing up the field right now! See
+you later, Lovering!"
+
+And Mr. Potter dashed off again.
+
+Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about developments and after
+that Tom Haley wanted information. Dick had no hopeful news to impart,
+however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as Dick was starting for the
+Point--by way of Brentwood--and walked with him as far as the corner of
+A Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and reminded him that three was a
+crowd. Dick had the grace to blush.
+
+"Oh, come on," he said awkwardly. "Don't be a silly chump!"
+
+"Thanks," murmured Gordon sweetly, "but we wouldn't think of intruding.
+Come along, Fudge."
+
+"Wh-wh-what's up?" asked Fudge when Dick had gone on. "Wh-why didn't you
+w-w-want to go along?"
+
+"I can't explain," replied Gordon gently. "You're too young, Fudge, to
+hear such things."
+
+Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to "ch-ch-chase himself!"
+
+Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at Dick because
+he hadn't been able to find him before. "Say, there's something funny
+about this business," he confided, sinking into a chair on the porch and
+mopping his forehead vigorously. "I went over to the field after I left
+you this morning and there wasn't a thing doing. You said Mullin left
+his wagon there, didn't you?" Dick nodded. "Well, it's gone now. I tried
+to get him on the 'phone and his wife said he was out of town. What do
+you make of that?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Mr. Brent thought better of it
+after you left him. You're certain the wagon was gone?"
+
+"Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside. There wasn't a
+scratch there and there wasn't even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now,
+what does that mean? I'd call the old chap up and ask him, only--well,
+frankly, Lovering, I'm afraid I'll lose my job! I suppose you wouldn't
+want to get him on the telephone and ask him about it?"
+
+"I'd a lot rather not," owned Dick. "I guess I'm just about as scared of
+him as you are."
+
+"But he can't hurt you! With me it's different. If he ever tells Stevens
+I went to his office and read the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me a
+ticket and a week's pay!"
+
+"I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to," said Dick after a
+moment's thought. "I'll see if I can find him on the 'phone."
+
+But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gone
+somewhere with Fudge.
+
+"I'll see him at four o'clock," said Dick. "I told the fellows we'd meet
+at the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don't see
+why--Excuse me a minute, will you?"
+
+The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches again and once more
+swung himself into the house.
+
+"This you, Dick?" asked the voice at the other end of the line. "This is
+Morris. Say, Dick, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago.
+He telephoned from the office. 'You can tell that Merrick boy,' says he,
+'that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see me
+Wednesday. I'm going to Hartford at three and I'll be back Wednesday
+noon.' That's great, isn't it?"
+
+"Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Saturday,
+Morris?"
+
+"Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn't it? And his wanting to see Gordon
+makes it look that way, too. I've been trying to find Gordon, but his
+mother says he's out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me up
+here at the Point, Dick."
+
+"I will. That's bully news, Morris, and your father's a brick! I've just
+been talking with Mr. Potter. He's all het up about it," laughed Dick.
+"He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I'll tell
+Gordon when I see him about four."
+
+Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted by
+Mr. Potter's eager and questioning countenance.
+
+"I couldn't help hearing what you said," he exclaimed. "Has he come
+around?"
+
+"I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on and
+use the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He's
+going to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it's all right."
+
+Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. "Well, I hope so. I want to put
+this thing through now that I've started, Lovering. I'll breathe easier,
+though, when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again about
+Wednesday we'll be in a worse pickle than ever!"
+
+"I don't think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he's concluded to let us use
+the field. If he hadn't Mullin would be at work this minute. If I were
+you, though, I'd hear what Mullin says."
+
+"I will, just as soon as he gets home." Mr. Potter looked at his watch
+and jumped to his feet. "I must be off. Say, that's a load off my mind,
+all right! Now I'll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. He
+wants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that's fair enough. By the
+way, can you let me have your batting-list to-morrow? We want to print
+those score-cards about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything more
+call me up at the office. If I'm not there they'll take a message. Bye!"
+
+"I wonder," mused Gordon when Dick met him at practice an hour later,
+"what he wants to see me about."
+
+"Well, it's about the field, I suppose," said Dick. "Don't look so
+frightened, Gordie. He won't eat you!"
+
+Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully. "I know, but that man
+scares me to death. I don't know why, either. He's always been as nice
+as pie to me. I guess it's his eyes. They sort of go right through you
+and come out the other side!"
+
+There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon and the
+Clearfield Baseball Club performed to enthusiastic applause. Dick had
+sought to arrange a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no team
+that could or would play them, which was a matter of regret since
+Clearfield needed harder practice than it could get without an opponent.
+Rutter's Point, which had been playing two games a week steadily, was to
+meet Logan on Wednesday at the Point.
+
+"I wish we had got them," said Dick. "They'd give us just about the sort
+of a game we need."
+
+"Maybe," suggested Jack Tappen, "they'd swap dates with us if we asked
+them. They won't get any money at the Point, you know."
+
+"Yes, they will," piped up Harold, who had come over to watch practice
+at Dick's invitation. "They pass a hat around and sometimes get ten or
+twelve dollars."
+
+"Anyway, I don't care to do a thing like that," said Dick. "It wouldn't
+be exactly square, I guess."
+
+"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Harold.
+
+"Go ahead," said Jack. "You're full of information, kid."
+
+"Well," said Harold, pausing long enough to regard Jack with a look of
+disdain, "why don't you play them in the morning?"
+
+"By jove!" said Lanny.
+
+"'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!'" murmured Jack. "Kid,
+you're all right!"
+
+"We might," pondered Dick. "They're coming over anyway, and I dare say
+they'd just as lief come in the morning as later. I'll get hold of that
+captain of theirs this evening and see what he says."
+
+"Tell 'em we'll pay their fares both ways," suggested Will Scott.
+
+"Sure thing; and buy them a lunch," agreed Way.
+
+"They'll do it," said Gordon. "Make the game at ten-thirty, Dick."
+
+"Better say eleven. They could hardly get over here before half-past
+ten. Well, I'll get after them as soon as I get home. Harold, you are a
+youth of ideas!"
+
+And Harold smiled proudly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS
+
+
+That was just about the busiest week for Dick that he ever remembered
+spending. In the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter to be seen and
+Mr. Potter's newest schemes to be considered. And, after that, for
+nearly three hours, he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter's
+room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley slaves. All the
+hard work wasn't the younger boy's, either, for Dick had to do a lot of
+studying in order to maintain with dignity his role of teacher. It would
+never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him napping! The younger
+boy's capacity for study was a revelation to Dick, and his progress a
+source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week Dick could,
+and did, assure himself that the battle was won! That unless Harold had
+an almost total lapse of memory when he was put through examinations he
+could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course cramming is not the best
+means of learning, and much of what Harold learned that summer he was
+bound to forget later, but Dick hoped that the forgetting would not come
+until he had passed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and
+relief when Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in
+what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her
+gratitude, or the expression of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.
+
+After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one
+o'clock Dick had two hours to himself. Or he had unless the
+indefatigable Mr. Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce
+progress or to present a problem to be solved. At four there was
+practice at the field. In the evenings Dick very often had to go over
+the next day's lessons, a task more often than not interrupted by the
+visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all three. Tuesday
+evening not only that trio but Morris Brent as well descended upon him.
+Morris had at last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost
+imperceptible limp. The doctor assured him that the limp would leave him
+in a week or so, and Morris, an ardent football enthusiast, was already
+talking punts and drop-kicks.
+
+Since Logan had readily consented to play a game with Clearfield at
+eleven o'clock the next morning, and since Dick's services would be
+needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been
+postponed until Wednesday evening. Dick hadn't the heart to ask Harold
+to give up seeing Logan and Rutter's Point play in the afternoon. And so
+when the visitors announced their presence that evening by a series of
+loud whistles from the gate Dick closed his books regretfully, knowing
+that he would have to sit up very late after his callers had gone.
+
+They sat out on the porch and talked of many things while the crickets
+and katydids chirped and fiddled in the darkness. It had been decided
+that Tom was to pitch only three innings of the morning's game and that
+Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep Tom fresh for the big
+game on Saturday. To equalize matters, Logan was to pitch her third
+baseman against Clearfield so that she might save her regular box artist
+for the afternoon contest. They discussed this and other features of the
+morrow's battle, and then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted
+to the Saturday's event. Fudge was filled with excitement these days and
+stuttered like an empty soda fountain whenever the subject was broached.
+
+"Jordan and Fillmore's window is f-f-f-full of flags and p-p-pennants,"
+announced Fudge. "It looks s-s-s-swell!"
+
+"It's sort of one-sided, though," said Lanny. "They ought to put up some
+Point flags too."
+
+"I don't suppose there are any," answered Gordon. "They haven't any
+regular color over there, have they?"
+
+"Sure; blue and yellow. It's a funny combination, but some of the girls
+out at the Point have made some flags and they say they look mighty
+well."
+
+"Mr. Potter told me to-day," remarked Dick, "that he's hired four kids
+to sell flags at the field. He got Jordan and Fillmore to make up two
+hundred of them for him. He can certainly think of more things to do!"
+
+"Those are probably the flags they have in their window," suggested
+Lanny. "What are they like, Fudge?"
+
+"J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have just a C instead of
+C. H. S. on them. They're s-s-swell!"
+
+"You told us that before," said Gordon. "I guess Potter will be stuck
+with about a hundred and fifty of his two hundred."
+
+"I don't believe he will. Say, why didn't we think of doing that,
+fellows? We might have made a lot of money." And Lanny looked almost
+accusingly at Dick.
+
+"I don't see that we need any more money," replied the manager. "We'll
+have so much as it is that we'll have to open a bank account. I'm scared
+to death to have it in the house."
+
+"How much have we got now?" asked Lanny.
+
+"Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell you my scheme for
+using it, Lanny?"
+
+"Yes," was the unenthusiastic reply. "But I don't believe----"
+
+"It's a dandy scheme," interrupted Gordon quickly. "We--we'll talk it
+over some day, after this game's over with. No use trying to think of
+anything else right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile
+book any?"
+
+"No, I haven't had a minute's time. No hurry, is there? I've about
+decided to wait another month or so and get one of the next year's
+models. I've already got almost two dollars laid by toward it."
+
+"Well, don't buy a cheap car," laughed Lanny. "Get--get one like
+Morris's."
+
+The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by Morris. "Yes, but don't
+break a leg with it," he exclaimed. Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed
+loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness of the porch
+with a puzzled look on his face. He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a
+kick at Lanny's shin and, judging from Lanny's pained contortions
+immediately afterward, Dick fancied that Gordon's aim had been true. For
+over a week now Dick had been aware that some project was under way by
+the others that he was purposely excluded from. What it was he couldn't
+imagine, but that it had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More
+than once he had seen warning glances sent from one fellow to another
+and quite often a remark had been cut short at his approach. That the
+mystery concerned him particularly Dick did not suspect, however. And
+just now he had too many things on his mind to allow of much
+consideration of it.
+
+"You really ought to read that book, though," said Gordon. "Oughtn't he,
+Morris?"
+
+Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, "You really ought, Dick!"
+and Lanny murmured something about it being well to know such things.
+
+"Look here," exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half in earnest, "if you
+fellows don't quit nagging me to read that book I'll--I'll pitch it out
+the window! What the dickens do I want to learn about running an
+automobile for? Are you fellows dippy?"
+
+There was complete silence until Lanny said: "You never can tell, Dick,
+when you might be called on to--to profit by the--er----"
+
+"Oh, certainly," responded Dick with sarcasm. "Most any old day I might
+get the offer of a chauffeur's job! Or maybe you fellows are going to
+save up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!"
+
+"Ha, ha!" said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled. Gordon had a fit of
+coughing. Morris became intensely interested in the stars seen through
+the vines.
+
+"You'd make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick," laughed Gordon finally.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why--er--just because," replied Gordon flatly. "Say, I've got to be
+going home, fellows. You coming my way?"
+
+The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm for departure,
+and after they had clicked the little gate behind them Dick could hear
+them talking in low and excited tones as they passed up the street. He
+shook his head as he moved his crutches toward the doorway.
+
+"Either they're all crazy," he murmured, "or they're trying to work some
+sort of a game on me. I wonder what it is."
+
+But he didn't wonder long, for the morrow's lessons awaited him upstairs
+and when he had finished with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder
+about anything.
+
+Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the next forenoon. The
+visitors arrived nearly twenty minutes late and the game dragged. There
+was a lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to make more errors
+than its opponent. Curtis Wayland and the rival pitcher were pretty
+evenly matched and it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her
+endeavors, failed to tally as many errors as Logan that the home team
+stood three runs ahead when the contest was called to allow the visitors
+to snatch some dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn't
+derive much satisfaction from that game, and was inclined to be downcast
+until, just before supper time, Harold telephoned over to him that the
+Point team had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered up and saw
+things more brightly. And then, scarcely two minutes later, came Gordon
+with his news.
+
+"We've got the field, Dick!" he cried from the sidewalk even before he
+reached the gate. "Mr. Brent is going to give it to the school! It isn't
+going to be cut up!"
+
+"Give it to the school!" echoed Dick amazedly.
+
+"Yes! Isn't that fine and dandy?" Gordon sprawled into a chair on the
+porch and fanned himself vigorously with his straw hat. "He's having a
+deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes back it will be
+ours. Morris is giving it."
+
+"Morris! How can he give it?"
+
+"Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris's name. It's to be called
+Brent Field. And he almost as much as promised to build us a big new
+grandstand some day! Isn't he--isn't he a corker?"
+
+"But--but what--how----"
+
+Gordon laughed excitedly. "I guess it was seeing us play the other day
+that did it. He said he guessed as we got so much enjoyment out of the
+field we ought to have it. He didn't get home until nearly half-past
+four and I called at the office three times before I found him. I
+thought the first time that I'd sneak off and not come back. But I'm
+glad I did, though. I was scared to death when I went in. But he was as
+nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball and football and
+the Athletic Committee and the field we talked of getting, and
+then--then--well, then he asked me if I thought the fellows would like
+to keep the field. And I said of course they would. And then he said he
+had decided to make the school a present of it if--if I wanted him to."
+
+"If you wanted him to!" exclaimed his hearer.
+
+Gordon nodded. "You know he told me the time I--the time I was with
+Morris when he got hurt that if I wanted anything I was to ask him for
+it. So the other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field I--I
+sort of reminded him of what he had said and told him I'd like him to
+let us use the field that day. I didn't tell you, but that was how we
+got it. Well, to-day he said I hadn't made the most of my opportunity,
+or something like that. He said I should have asked for the field
+outright if I wanted it. 'Why didn't you?' he asked. Gee, I didn't know
+what to say, so I just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said
+how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did for Morris that day
+and that if I'd asked him then for the field he'd have given it to me; I
+mean to the school. So I said, 'Yes, sir, if you please,' and he laughed
+and said: 'All right, Merrick. I'll have the deed made out to-morrow.
+But I want you to understand that it is Morris who is giving the field
+and not me. He's one of you and the gift will come better from him.' And
+then he shook hands with me and walked 'way out to the stairs with me!
+And--and say, Dick, isn't it _great_?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+MR. BRENT THROWS A BALL
+
+
+If that Saturday had been manufactured to Mr. Potter's order it couldn't
+have been finer. There was a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud
+bigger than a handkerchief to be seen. A westerly breeze, bearing the
+first hint of Autumn, cooled the ardor of the sun. Clearfield had a gala
+look as soon as the shades at the store windows were drawn in the
+morning. Touches of purple appeared everywhere. By ten o'clock the
+downtown streets began to show the incursion of visitors from the
+neighboring villages and even from the country and the stores reaped a
+small harvest. At noon Common Street in the vicinity of the field was
+well lined with sidewalk vendors of peanuts and popcorn, lemonade and
+soft drinks, while in a vacant lot near-by a hustling gentleman with a
+blue-black mustache and a yellow corduroy coat had set up a
+merry-go-round whose strident organ ground out a repertory of four tunes
+monotonously from forenoon to midnight. Small boys with purple pennants
+bearing white C's importuned passers to show their patriotism at the
+expense of a quarter of a dollar and other small boys flaunted copies of
+the morning _Reporter_. "Line-up of to-day's game! Here you are!
+_Reporter!_ Only two cents!"
+
+The reserved seat tickets on sale at Howland's gave out at eleven
+o'clock, and at twelve, after a hasty conference over the telephone with
+Dick, Mr. Potter had a load of lumber and four carpenters at the field
+erecting sixty extra seats.
+
+At one, even before the last nail had been driven, the drug store
+reported that they had again sold out. "Sell fifty more," telephoned Mr.
+Potter, "and mark them 'Bench!'" Then he hurried to Odd Fellows' Hall
+with a moving-van and transferred ten settees from there to the ball
+grounds and placed them in a double row all along the third base line.
+After that he threw up his hands.
+
+Shortly before noon a blue runabout, with its brass glistening radiantly
+and its newly varnished surface reflecting back the sunlight, stopped in
+front of the carriage gate at the field and honked its horn. After which
+Gordon, who rode beside the operator, jumped to the ground, climbed the
+fence and unbarred the gates from inside. Then Morris drove in, Gordon
+dropped the bar back in place and climbed into the car again and the
+blue runabout ambled across the white foul line and stopped a few feet
+from the home plate, with its glistening radiator pointed at the
+grandstand.
+
+"That's my last ride in her," said Morris regretfully as he got out.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Gordon. "He may give you a lift some time."
+
+Morris smiled. "I meant the last time I'd run her," he amended. "Gee,
+but I kind of hate to give her up, Gordon."
+
+"She's a nice little car," replied the other, "even if she did try to
+break your neck for you. And she certainly looks dandy. And she runs as
+well as ever, doesn't she?"
+
+"Better, it seems to me. I suppose she's getting the stiffness out of
+her. Well, we'd better hike along to dinner. You're sure your mother
+won't mind having me, Gordon?"
+
+"She expects you. I telephoned I was bringing you. Come on."
+
+It was long before two o'clock when the crowd began moving toward the
+field. Stewart, the liveryman, ran carriages from the station to the
+entrance and did a good business. At a few minutes before two Gordon and
+Dick and Lanny arrived. Mr. Potter was already on hand, instructing the
+two boys who were acting as ushers and keeping an eye on the amateur
+ticket seller at the gate. Tim Turner stood inside and took the tickets,
+dropping them into a tin box and looking as professional as you please.
+Dick's gaze found the automobile the instant he was inside and he
+stopped short and stared at it. And no wonder, for a blue runabout
+placed imposingly in the center of a baseball diamond is about as
+incongruous a sight as one often sees.
+
+"Wh-what the dickens!" gasped Dick.
+
+"Oh, that?" said Gordon. "That's the car that Morris just sold. Looks
+pretty well, doesn't it? Come on in the dressing-room."
+
+"But what's it doing there?" asked Dick. "Whose is it?"
+
+"I suppose someone left it there. Gee, Dick, look at the crowd here
+already! We'll have to have groundrules if they keep coming!"
+
+"Yes, I guess so. But--that car! It can't stand there, Gordie!"
+
+"Of course not. It'll be out of the way by the time we're ready to
+practice, I dare say. There's Tom. Come on. We'd better get changed. It
+must be almost two."
+
+Dick followed them into the dressing-room without further remarks, but
+it was plain to be seen that the incident of the misplaced automobile
+was occupying his thoughts. Most of the team had arrived and in another
+moment Dick found enough to attend to and talk about without further
+bothering his head with the blue runabout. The Point team came in a few
+minutes later and then there was a fine confusion and noise in there.
+Everyone was in the best of spirits and there was no sign of animosity
+between the opponents. One might have thought, were it not for the
+difference in costumes, that the two dozen or so fellows were team-mates
+rather than rivals. It was the first time that most of the Clearfield
+fellows had seen the Rutter's Point players in their new togs, and they
+had to acknowledge that the white suits and blue-and-yellow-striped
+stockings were very attractive.
+
+Of course Harold was there, score-book under arm, following Dick around
+closely. And Morris, too, in his capacity of honorary member of the
+visiting nine. Probably he would have been welcome in any case, for
+to-day was to witness the formal transfer of the field, in Morris's
+name, from Mr. Brent to the High School. Mr. Grayson, who had arrived
+home the day before, was to attend and Morris was to deliver the deed to
+him, as a sort of added attraction. Morris, however, didn't appear
+oppressed by his importance, a fact which his companions were quick to
+notice and approve.
+
+At five minutes past the two teams went out to the diamond, and as they
+appeared, the band, massed fourteen strong in front of the grandstand,
+broke into the triumphal strains of "See the Conquering Hero Comes." By
+that time the stand was filled to overflowing, the extra seats were well
+occupied and the settees sprinkled, while around the diamond what looked
+to the startled gaze of the players to be a vast assemblage sat or
+stood.
+
+"Jumpin' Jupiter!" muttered Fudge, his eyes very big and round.
+"S-s-s-say, Jack, I won't b-b-b-be able to c-c-catch a thing!"
+
+"I guess we'll all have stage-fright," replied Jack Tappen, with a
+rather nervous laugh. "Who would have thought all this crowd would have
+come? And look at the gate! They're still coming, Fudge!"
+
+"G-g-guess I'll s-s-s-sneak home," said Fudge.
+
+Dick was frankly puzzled. Instead of trotting into the field to begin
+practice, his charges were lounging over toward the plate, and with them
+went the Point team. Then Dick's eyes fell on that blue runabout again,
+and he frowned and followed the players, who by this time had gathered
+about it. Harold, who never allowed Dick to get more than six feet away
+from him, went, too.
+
+"Someone will have to get that car out of here," announced Dick
+impatiently. "Whose is it, anyway?"
+
+As the band, which had been blaring forth a twostep, stopped suddenly at
+a signal from Gordon, just in the middle of Dick's pronouncement, he
+finished it in a voice which, owing to the silence, was audible halfway
+to the outfield. A ripple of amusement came from the nearer seats. Dick,
+embarrassed by events and by an impending something that he sensed,
+looked blankly about the grinning faces.
+
+"Wh-what's the matter?" he faltered, appealing to Gordon.
+
+Gordon cleared his throat and took a step forward. The rest of the
+players shuffled into the semblance of a half-circle behind him and
+about the blue car. The audience, none of them in the secret but all
+suspecting interesting developments, grew very still.
+
+"Dick," began Gordon, very red of countenance and nervous of manner,
+"we--that is----"
+
+"Go to it, Gordie," murmured Lanny encouragingly. Gordon took a deep
+breath and another start:
+
+"The Clearfield Baseball Club, in recognition of your services as
+manager and--and in token of its esteem and----"
+
+"Respect and esteem," prompted Lanny, _sotto voce_.
+
+----"Respect and esteem," corrected Gordon, who had prepared his speech
+with much care and had now pretty well forgotten it, "desires to present
+to you this automobile, in the hope--er--in the hope----"
+
+"That it will provide----"
+
+"----That it will provide both comfort and pleasure. It is with much--it
+is with much----"
+
+Gordon looked imploringly at Lanny, but Lanny's gaze was fixed blankly
+on space. He, too, had forgotten the lines! Fudge gave way to his
+nervousness and giggled. Gordon waved his hand toward the car. "And we
+hope you'll like it," he ended breathlessly.
+
+There was an instant's silence, and then came a joyous screech from
+Harold. That was the signal for much hand-clapping and other evidences
+of applause from the spectators who, although Gordon's speech had not
+been audible to them, had by this time gathered that someone was being
+presented with the natty blue automobile. Dick, rather white of face,
+smiled.
+
+"I--I----" he began. Then he faltered. When he went on his voice was
+husky. "Thank you, fellows," he said. "I don't see why you did it,
+but--but I appreciate it more than I can say. And--I can't make a
+speech, so I'll just say thank you and--you'll have to understand that
+it means a lot more than I can put in words!"
+
+Then they cheered quite madly, being heartily glad to be over with the
+embarrassment, and flocked around him and shook hands just as though
+they hadn't seen him for months!
+
+"'It is with much pride that we offer this small token,'" said Lanny
+explosively in Gordon's ear. Gordon laughed derisively.
+
+"What's the good now?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say that two minutes
+ago? You're a fine one to help a fellow!"
+
+"Why didn't you remember it yourself?" asked Lanny, in an injured voice.
+"Gee! You wrote it, didn't you?"
+
+Morris jumped into the driver's seat of the car and Dick, impelled by
+friendly hands, climbed in beside him. Will Scott spun the crank, the
+engine purred, and, to the cheers and laughter of the fellows and the
+enthusiastic applause of the spectators, the blue runabout chugged
+around the field and back into an angle of the grandstand, while the
+band played loudly.
+
+"I'll show you how to run it in two days, Dick," Morris said, as they
+circled the diamond. "You'll find it's as easy as anything you ever
+did."
+
+"Did you know about it?" asked Dick curiously.
+
+"Sure. It was Gordon's scheme; but he told me what he wanted to do and
+dad and I were strong for it."
+
+"But--but where'd they get the money?" asked Dick.
+
+"They haven't got it yet," chuckled Morris. "You have it!"
+
+"I have----Oh, the baseball money!"
+
+"Surest think you know, Dick!"
+
+"Oh!" Dick gave a sigh of relief. "I was afraid they'd paid for it out
+of their pockets or--or somehow. I--I knew for two or three weeks that
+they were up to something, but I never suspected this. Say, doesn't it
+just get there!"
+
+"She's a fine little car," agreed Morris proudly, as he brought it to a
+stop behind the extra seats. "And I'll just bet you'll be crazy about
+her, Dick, in a week!"
+
+"I guess I'm sort of crazy about her now," murmured Dick.
+
+There was still another ceremony to be gone through with; in fact, two.
+The first was performed a minute later when Morris, taking a folded
+sheet of paper from his pocket, walked across to the front of the
+grandstand, accompanied by the players, and with a neat but brief speech
+formally presented the deed of the athletic field to Mr. Grayson. The
+principal, however, wasn't going to miss the opportunity to indulge in
+eloquence, and his speech of thanks went on for quite five minutes. It
+was a very good speech, too, but few heard it, for the spectators out of
+ear-shot were clamoring for the game to begin. When he had finished and
+bowed and taken his seat again, there was more applause, and the bass
+drum boomed ecstatically and Gordon led three cheers for Mr. Brent, and
+at last the home team trotted on to the diamond and the visitors began
+passing and warming up at one side.
+
+By that time it was nearly the hour set for the game to begin, and
+almost every available spot on the field was occupied by spectators.
+Four of Clearfield's modest police force were on duty in the outfield,
+patrolling back and forth, restraining the advance of the crowds which
+stretched along the continuations of the foul lines.
+
+On the "press stand," a kitchen table and two straight-backed chairs at
+the end of the home team's bench, stood the silver trophy on its ebony
+stand. Around the base was twined the purple silk pennant with the white
+"C." At the "press stand" sat Mr. Potter, his straw hat tilted back on
+his head, a pile of yellow copy paper in front of him and a big cigar
+tucked in the corner of his mouth. Mr. Potter, looking proudly about the
+crowded field, was happy. Apparently all the pennants had been
+purchased, for they waved on all sides, and flashes of purple glowed
+everywhere in the sunlight; everywhere, that is to say, except in one
+small section of the main stand, where the Rutter's Point contingent,
+some fifty strong, waved blue-and-yellow flags and cheered for their
+heroes.
+
+Dick, leaning on his crutches near first base, allowed his gaze to
+wander a minute from the work of his charges toward the crowded seats.
+There were his mother and Grace up there, and, farther along, Mr. and
+Mrs. Brent and Louise--and Morris just returning to his place beside
+them. Strangely enough, Louise happened to be looking just as Dick
+glanced her way, and nodded and waved. Dick took off his hat in answer.
+A second later he was bowing again, for Mrs. Townsend was waving her
+blue-and-yellow banner toward him.
+
+Then, presently, the home team yielded the diamond to the visitors, and
+Dick went back to the bench with them. Harold was sharpening his pencils
+as Dick took his place beside him.
+
+"Dick," he said, in a low voice, "I hope you win."
+
+"Thanks, Harold! That's treachery, isn't it, though?"
+
+Harold frowned and shook his head. "Can't help it," he muttered. "I do,
+anyway."
+
+The umpires were Mr. Cochran, of the Y.M.C.A., chosen by Clearfield, and
+Mr. Vokes, who had officiated at the first game between the two teams,
+the Point's selection. The latter gentleman was on bases and Mr. Cochran
+umpired at the plate. At twenty minutes to three Clearfield trotted into
+the field to the cheers of the audience, and Gordon, taking a nice new
+ball from Mr. Cochran, ascended the stand to where Mr. Brent sat.
+
+"Mr. Brent," said Gordon, "we'd like very much to have you throw out the
+ball to us, sir, if you don't mind."
+
+"Throw out the ball!" exclaimed Mr. Brent. "How--how do I do it?"
+
+"Just stand up, sir, and toss it to Tom Haley, down there."
+
+Mr. Brent looked doubtful, but Morris and Louise urged him on, and
+finally he got to his feet, measured the distance anxiously, clutched
+the ball with a death-like grip, and hurled it toward Tom. It went a
+yard over his head, and was fielded by Harry Bryan near second! But that
+didn't matter! Everyone cheered just as hard!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+DICK SMILES
+
+
+                   CLEARFIELD          RUTTER'S POINT
+
+                   Bryan, 2b.          Billings, 3b.
+                   Scott, 3b.          Townsend, 1b.
+                   Merrick, 1b.        Chase, ss.
+                   Wayland, l. f.      House, c. f.
+                   Tappen, r. f.       Leary, 2b.
+                   White, c.           Northrop, r. f.
+                   Robey, ss.          Jensen, l. f.
+                   Haley, p.           Houghton, c.
+                   Shaw, c. f.         Mason, p.
+
+Gordon took his position off first base, thumped fist into glove, and
+called cheerfully across to Tom Haley:
+
+"First man, Tom! Let's have him!"
+
+But Gordon wasn't nearly as cool and collected as he tried to seem. He
+was conscious of the crowd, and especially of the throng that stretched
+four and five deep along the base line but a half dozen yards away. The
+noise, too, was disconcerting. He didn't mind the bellowing of Jim House
+back of first, nor the answering shrieks of Pink Northrop behind third;
+but the steady hum and stir of the crowd gave him what was very much
+like stage fright. He almost hoped that the first hit would not come
+into his territory, for he was virtually sure that he would misplay it.
+But Gordon wasn't the only one suffering from nervous embarrassment. Tom
+was as wild as a hawk, and if the batsmen had not been up in the air as
+well Rutter's Point might have won the game then and there!
+
+Dick, none too self-possessed himself, in spite of the fact that on the
+bench he was practically out of the public gaze, saw that in the
+outfield Way, Jack, and Fudge were each moving restlessly about, and he
+mentally hoped that there would be no long flies for a few minutes! The
+only one of the home team who seemed absolutely self-possessed and
+unconcerned was Lanny. Lanny, behind his mask and protector, gave his
+signals calmly, and called to Tom coolly and encouragingly, holding his
+hands over the center of the plate and inviting Tom to "put it right
+here!" And Tom tried his best to follow signals, and failed lamentably.
+
+Caspar Billings went to base on balls, and Gordon took the bag. Tom
+tried one throw across, and Gordon, to his relief, caught the ball.
+While Tom had been in the act of swinging around and stepping out,
+Gordon had been sure that the ball would get by him. Caspar was playing
+it safe, however, and after Gordon threw the sphere back to Tom the
+latter gave his attention to the next batsman, Loring Townsend. Loring,
+with one strike and two balls against him, reached for a low one and
+sent it up in the air to Pete Robey. Pete caught it, juggled it, dropped
+it, and then sped it to second. Caspar, who had stopped halfway down the
+base line, turned back to the bench.
+
+With one out, Tom settled down a little. Loring Townsend stole on the
+second delivery and beat out the throw. The Point clamored for a hit,
+but the best Gil Chase could do was to trickle a slow bunt to Tom, who
+threw out the runner at first.
+
+"Two gone!" called Gordon. "Let him hit, Tom!"
+
+But Tom did the hitting himself, bumping Jim House on the elbow with his
+first ball. Jim trotted to first, and Leary came to bat. Leary ought to
+have been easy, but he landed on the very first offering and sent a fly
+into short left field. Way started with the ball and got it after a hard
+run, and the inning was over.
+
+"We got out of that mighty luckily," muttered Gordon, as he took his
+seat beside Dick. "I guess we've all got nerves."
+
+"Well, so have the others," replied Dick. "Try to get rid of yours
+first, Gordie."
+
+Harry Bryan waited and got his base. Will Scott, instructed to bunt and
+sacrifice, fouled two attempts, and finally went out on strikes. Gordon
+brought the stands to their feet by a bunt along first-base line which
+started well but eventually rolled into foul territory under the anxious
+gaze of Mason and Townsend. Then came a swipe that missed the ball by
+inches, then two balls, and last, with two and two, a straight one that
+Gordon liked the looks of. He found it, all right, but it dropped into
+center-fielder's hands, and, with two down, Bryan was still anchored on
+first. A minute later he tried a steal, and was caught a yard away.
+
+In the second Tom pitched better, and Northrop and Jensen fanned.
+Houghton, the Point catcher, got a scratch hit, and reached the first
+bag but died there when Mason struck out.
+
+Clearfield did no better in her half, Wayland, Tappen, and Lanny White
+going out in order, and only Jack getting a rap at the ball.
+
+It was not until the fourth inning that things began to happen. Leary
+started the Point's half with a sharp tap between Pete and Harry that
+put him safely on first. Then, with the Point coachers yelling like mad
+and dancing like a couple of dervishes, Tom passed Pink Northrop. With
+the three tail-enders coming up there seemed no cause for alarm. But
+Jensen laid down a nice bunt right in front of the plate, and Lanny,
+tossing aside his mask, picked it up and hurled it to third.
+Unfortunately, Will Scott had started in toward the plate, and the ball
+got to third ahead of him. By the time Way had recovered it, Leary had
+scored, Northrop was on second, and Jensen on first. The Pointers went
+wild with delight, and the blue-and-yellow flags waved in the
+grandstand. Houghton, aching for a hit, was over-anxious, and fell a
+victim to the wiles of Lanny and Tom, and there was one out. Pitcher
+Mason was no more of a batsman than the average twirler, and yet he
+managed to make it two and three before he finally put an end to the
+suspense and the inning by hitting to Harry Bryan, who tagged Jensen as
+he went past and then threw to Gordon, completing the double.
+
+For the next two innings it looked very much as though that one run
+would be enough to win the game, for Mason settled down and pitched
+air-tight ball and added four more strike-outs to his credit. Tom Haley
+was less spectacular, and yet got by without yielding a hit. He passed
+two batters and in the sixth Jensen got as far as third when Pete Robey
+fumbled Houghton's liner. But there were no runs scored, and at the
+beginning of the seventh the score still stood 1 to 0 in the visitors'
+favor, and Clearfield already tasted defeat. But the audience shouted
+that here was the "lucky seventh," and those fortunate to have seats
+stood up and stretched cramped limbs, and everyone shouted.
+
+In the first half of the seventh the clouds began to gather again over
+Clearfield's head. Caspar Billings, first man up, beat out a weak hit
+and took second when Townsend sacrificed, Scott to Merrick. A moment
+later he reached third when Chase flied out to right field. Then House
+provided a half dozen attacks of heart disease when, with three balls
+and two strikes on him, he knocked fouls to nearly every point of the
+compass in his endeavor to secure a safe hit and score Caspar. But in
+the end Tom tricked him into a high fly that settled comfortably into
+Pete Robey's glove, and again the sky cleared.
+
+"If those boys don't win a run this time," said Mr. Brent, almost
+crossly, "I'll be sorry I gave them the field."
+
+"You mean, dad, you'll be sorry _I_ gave them the field," corrected
+Morris, with a grin. Mr. Brent grunted.
+
+"Why don't they bat the ball?" he demanded. "Every time one of them gets
+on a base, the others leave him there. What they ought to do is to take
+a good bang at it and send it out there beyond those fellows."
+
+"That's what they're trying to do, papa," replied Louise, "but the Point
+pitcher won't let them. He's a wonderful pitcher, isn't he, Morris?"
+
+"Pretty fair. He'll get his before the game's over, though. See if he
+doesn't."
+
+"Get his what?" asked his father curiously.
+
+"Get what's coming to him," laughed Morris. "I mean the Clearfield chaps
+will bat him. He can't keep this pace up much longer. I wouldn't be
+surprised if we got after him this inning."
+
+"Oh, I wish we might!" sighed Louise. "I wish they'd just--just _slam_
+him!"
+
+"My dear!" murmured Mrs. Brent. "That doesn't sound very nice."
+
+"It's all right, mama; it's just baseball talk."
+
+"Even so, dear, I'm not certain," replied her mother, "that----"
+
+But Louise didn't hear the rest, for she was waving her purple pennant
+wildly and shrieking in a manner that Mrs. Brent must have disapproved
+of thoroughly. But she had a good excuse. Even Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+tapping his cane and breathing hard, while Morris was frankly on his
+feet, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+Jack, the first Clearfield batsman, had landed on the second ball
+pitched, and now it was rolling along the grass between right fielder
+and center, and Jack was traveling fast for second base. He drew up
+there, breathless but happy. From the stands and from the crowds along
+the edges of the diamond came shouts and cheers. At last, Clearfield was
+to tie the score!
+
+And yet even with a runner on second and only a hit necessary to bring
+in a tally, it began to look as if once more the hopes of Clearfield's
+supporters were doomed. Lanny, determined and cool, after waiting until
+he had three balls to his credit and no strikes, tried to drop out of
+the way of a close one, only to have it hit his bat and roll fair! Mason
+fielded it to first, and there was one out. The incessant shouting from
+the spectators died away and Gordon, coaching at first, swung on his
+heel and kicked viciously at a pebble to relieve his feelings. Then,
+with Pete Robey up, there came an exchange of signals, and Jack started
+for third as the ball left Mason's hand for the second time. It was an
+unexpected play, and it succeeded. Pete swung and missed and Houghton
+side-stepped and hurled to third. But Jack, who was a fast youth on his
+feet, was diving head-first for the bag when the ball arrived, and Mr.
+Vokes, trotting past, spread his hands. Clearfield applauded wildly.
+
+With a man on third, Rutter's Point considered discretion the better
+part of valor, and Mason pitched out three times to Pete and Pete walked
+to first, while the home team's supporters jeered and shouted
+disparaging remarks to Mason. A minute later Pete went to second
+unchallenged. Tom Haley was up, and Houghton had argued that Tom could
+be easily disposed of. And it seemed that he could. Tom made desperate
+swings at the first two deliveries, and you could have heard the sighs
+of despair that came from the anxious watchers on the seats. Then,
+heeding the coachers' voices at last, Tom got his eye on the ball and
+watched idly while Mason sped two wide ones past him. Then he tried
+again and a foul resulted, Houghton getting his hands on it at the edge
+of the stand but dropping it. A third ball narrowly escaped being a
+strike, and Gordon cried: "That's waiting, Tom! Let him walk you; he'll
+do it in a minute!"
+
+And he would have, for the next delivery was inches wide of the outer
+corner of the plate, but Tom reached out eagerly, got that ball on the
+tip of his bat and sent it arching up in a low fly that fell three feet
+inside the first-base foul line and just out of the reach of the three
+fielders who raced after it! In trotted Jack, scoring the tying run, and
+in sped Pete Robey, close on his heels, while Clearfield went mad with
+delight and the purple pennants waved on high. Pete beat the throw to
+the plate by inches, but Tom, trying to reach second on the throw-in,
+was less fortunate and fell victim to a fine heave from Houghton to
+Leary.
+
+Dick motioned Fudge to him. "We want another run, Fudge," he said
+softly. "Mason will be up in the air now. Make him think you're anxious
+to hit. Move up in the box and swing your bat; try to look nervous----"
+
+"I don't have t-t-t-to try," muttered Fudge.
+
+"Never mind. Make him think you'll offer at anything, but _don't_ swing
+but once. Pick out a wide one and swing at it, Fudge, but be careful not
+to hit it. If you work it right, he will pass you sure as shooting! Now,
+go ahead."
+
+Harold Townsend, so excited that he hadn't scored a thing since Jack's
+two-bagger, looked at Dick in open admiration. "I guess that's what they
+call 'inside baseball,' isn't it, Dick?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply. "It's what I'd call horse-sense. I hope
+it works, anyhow!"
+
+With two out and the bases empty the scoring was apparently over, and
+the Pointers were doubtless already occupying their thoughts with the
+task before them of overcoming that one-run lead when they at last
+returned to their positions.
+
+"Last man, Mel!" called Billy Houghton. "Let's have him!" Then Billy
+signaled for a straight one. But Mason, as Dick had predicted, was a bit
+flustered. The straight one came over too low and was a ball. He tried
+it again, and another ball resulted. Houghton returned the sphere with a
+slow and cautioning toss, and then spread his fingers for a curve. The
+curve came, went wide, and Fudge, as nervous as a wet hen, made a mighty
+swing at it, missing it by six inches and winning a laugh from the
+spectators. Then he walked to the pitcher's end of the box and
+flourished his bat, and seemed to be daring Mason to put one where he
+could get it. Houghton signaled for a curve once more, for he figured
+that Fudge was in a condition to offer at anything that came. And Mason,
+winding his fingers none too carefully about the ball, let drive with
+it, and was properly surprised when Fudge made no offer!
+
+Then Houghton woke up. The score was three balls and one strike. He
+signaled for one over the plate, and it came. "Strike!" called Mr.
+Cochran. On the bench Dick watched anxiously. If Fudge could get his
+base, he reasoned, Harry Bryan would be up, and, in the present
+disgruntled state of mind of the Point players, errors were likely to
+result. On the mound Mason was shaking his head at Houghton's
+instructions. He had no doubt that he could put the third strike over,
+but he preferred to make the batter fan. Houghton signaled again, Mason
+wound up, and the ball traveled forward. It had a jump on it, if ever a
+ball did, and that jump was Mason's undoing. Fudge never moved as the
+ball passed him, only turned inquiringly toward the umpire. The latter
+nodded. "Take your base," he said.
+
+Billy Houghton ejaculated an amazed "_What?_" and Mason disgustedly
+kicked up the dust, but Fudge, grinning toward the bench as he passed,
+trotted to first. Rutter's Point suddenly awakened to the fact that
+perhaps the trouble was not yet over, after all!
+
+Nor was it. Harry Bryan found something to his liking, and banged it
+head-high across the diamond toward Billings. Caspar knocked it down,
+fumbled it, and then threw too late to Townsend. Harry was safe on first
+and Fudge on second. Clearfield yelled like wild Indians, and the crowd
+swayed and threatened to push on to the field. Then began a panicky five
+minutes.
+
+Fudge danced around at second and Bryan at first. The coachers shouted
+and leaped, and the crowd kept up an incessant thumping of feet and a
+steady roar of voices. Up in the main stand, Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+hugging his cane and leaning forward from the very edge of his seat.
+Louise had her purple pennant twisted into a hard knot, and Morris was
+talking hoarsely to himself or whoever might be listening. "Take a good
+lead, Shaw!" he directed. "Look out, Bryan! He almost got you! Here we
+go, fellows! Here we go!" Of course, neither Fudge nor Harry heard him,
+but Morris never thought about that. Morris was running that game for
+himself just then.
+
+Dick whispered a few words to Jack Tappen, and Jack sped to first and
+whispered a few words to Gordon. And Gordon turned his head inquiringly
+toward the bench, caught Dick's emphatic nod, and renewed his shouting.
+
+"What did you tell him, Dick?" asked Harold, in a low voice.
+
+Dick smiled. "You wait and see, Harold," he said.
+
+Will Scott was up now, with one ball to his credit. Mason had made three
+attempts to catch Bryan napping at first, and now he directed his
+attention to the batsman again. A waister went for a strike, a wide one
+followed and scored the second ball, and then Mason wound up once more
+and shot his arm out. And as he did so Fudge leaped away toward third,
+Bryan sped for second, and a cry of "There he goes!" went up from the
+visitors' bench. Will Scott glued his eye to that ball, swung and missed
+it. Houghton made a desperate attempt to cut off the runner at third,
+but failed, and bedlam broke loose. Mr. Potter knocked the silver trophy
+off its base in his excitement, and only caught it at the edge of the
+"press-stand" table. Harold kicked his legs in air and tossed his
+score-book up. Mr. Anthony Brent nearly broke his walking-stick. Morris
+challenged everyone within hearing to deny that that was the prettiest
+double steal that had ever been pulled off. Louise clapped her hands
+until her palms ached and her white gloves threatened to rip. And some
+six hundred other folks did whatever it occurred to them to do, and did
+it just as noisily as they knew how!
+
+Dick Lovering, Manager of the Clearfield Baseball Club, only smiled
+quietly and made little marks in his score-book.
+
+A minute later Scott was perched on first base, Mason having been
+totally unable to locate the plate, and Gordon faced the pitcher. Bases
+full, two out, and the captain at bat! Well, it was a fine situation, no
+matter what might come of it. The Point infield crept toward the plate.
+Everyone talked loudly to the pitcher, as much, perhaps, to tranquilize
+his own nerves as to encourage Mason. Mason, it seemed, needed
+encouragement. He was palpably unstrung, and the first ball he pitched
+proved it, for it was as wild as a shooting-star, and if Billy Houghton
+had not leaped sidewise and sprawled on his elbow it would have been by
+him and let in a run. But Billy stopped it, and Fudge scuttled back to
+safety at third.
+
+Mason worked a slow ball over for a strike on the next attempt, and that
+seemed to settle him somewhat. Gordon let one go by and found he had
+judged it correctly. Then a foul back of first base made the standing
+two and two. The noise had diminished, and now an almost breathless
+silence enveloped the field. Only the voices of the coachers were to be
+heard.
+
+"Oh, come on, Fudge! Take a lead! That's better! Hold it! On your toes,
+everyone! Look out for a passed ball now! Here's where we score a few!"
+
+"Pick out a good one, Cap! Make him pitch to you! Here it is! Here it
+is!"
+
+But Gordon refused to offer at it, and, "Ball!" announced the umpire.
+
+"It's got to be good, now, Gordie!" yelled Jack. "Lean on it! Lean on
+it! Make it a homer, Cap!"
+
+Mason wound, unwound, sped the ball toward the plate, bat and ball met
+and a sudden swelling paean of joy went up as the spectators leaped to
+their feet and craned their necks. But Gordon, speeding down the
+first-base line, and the other runners, spurning the dust between bags,
+slowed up and turned disappointedly back. The hit had gone foul by
+several yards. A brand-new ball was thrown to the pitcher, and Gordon
+picked up his bat again, waited until the runners had regained their
+bases, and then once more faced Mason.
+
+That new white ball looked good to him! What he feared most now was that
+Mason would pitch a bad one and that he would have to take his base on
+balls. To be sure, that would force in another run, but Gordon wanted
+more than that. Something told him that if Mason put one over he could
+hit it! Perhaps it would have been well if Mason had sacrificed a run
+and passed the Clearfield captain, but Mason couldn't be expected to
+know what was to happen. He wanted to strike the batsman out and end a
+deplorable inning, and Billy Houghton wanted the same thing. And so
+Billy spread his hands wide and Mason was just a bit more careful than
+usual and the ball sped forward fast and straight. And Gordon felt his
+heart jump as he saw what was coming. Every muscle tightened, his bat
+swung sharply, there was a _crack_ that was easily heard outside the
+field where an eager army of small boys had their eyes glued to all
+available cracks and knot-holes, and Gordon was racing for first!
+
+Over Leary's upstretched glove traveled the ball into the outfield. Jim
+House made a desperate effort to get it on the bound, missed it, whirled
+and scuttled back toward the fence. It was Pink Northrop, right fielder,
+who finally recovered it and threw it frantically in to second baseman.
+But by that time three joyous youths had crossed the plate and Gordon
+was sliding, in a cloud of dust, to third. And he might have kept his
+feet, at that, for poor Caspar, seeing the game slipping away, muffed
+the throw. Gordon had come through with a clean three-bagger! The score
+stood five to one! The "lucky seventh" had proved itself!
+
+[Illustration: "The Lucky Seventh had proved itself"]
+
+The inning ended two minutes later when Way was
+an easy out, shortstop to first, and Rutter's Point again took up the
+bat. But four runs was a desperate handicap to overcome, and Tom Haley,
+encouraged by success, pitched the best ball of his career. To be sure,
+Rutter's Point did score once more, in the first of the ninth, Caspar
+Billings slamming out a two-bagger much too hot for Pete Robey to handle
+and sending Jensen across the plate. And after that Townsend got to
+first on an error by Will Scott, and the Point, with Gil Chase at bat,
+tried heroically to pull the game out of the fire by a ninth-inning
+rally. But Tom was not to be trifled with, and Chase finally went out on
+a long fly to center, which Fudge, making the most of his second chance
+of the game, pulled down without a tremor!
+
+And then the band crashed forth into a triumphant march, the stands
+emptied, the field was flooded with laughing, satisfied spectators,
+cheers were given and answered, and, surrounded by a dense throng of
+enthusiastic admirers, Gordon and Dick and the others tried to hear Mr.
+Potter's speech as he presented to them the silver cup and the silken
+pennant. That speech appeared in full in Monday's _Reporter_, together
+with three columns of descriptive matter and a detailed story of the
+game; but no one heard it now.
+
+Five minutes later, Dick, the trophy held on his knees, sat in the blue
+runabout, and, with the triumphant Clearfield nine following behind, was
+paraded thrice around the field, Morris acting as charioteer. And the
+crowd, loitering behind to miss none of the fun, scuttled aside and
+cheered and waved purple flags.
+
+Last of all, with a score-book somewhat the worse for wear clutched
+tightly under his arm, strode Harold, adding his shrill cheers to the
+general tumult.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"THE LUCKY SEVENTH"
+
+
+On a crisp and sunny Saturday morning, a fortnight after the game, a
+blue runabout automobile came quietly and circumspectly along Troutman
+Street, under the yellowing maples, and, with two gruff toots of its
+horn, slowed down and came to a stop in front of the Merricks' gate. As
+the driver of the car slid the gears into neutral and kicked off the
+switch at the battery, a look of relief succeeded the somewhat strained
+and anxious expression he had worn. I think he even sighed his
+satisfaction as he relaxed his grasp of the steering wheel and looked
+toward the doorway. Along the running-board on the driver's side of the
+car lay a pair of crutches, held in place by an ingenious contrivance of
+heavy wire.
+
+After that, there is no use trying to longer conceal the identity of the
+boy at the wheel. It was Dick. A week of instruction by Morris and a
+second week spent in operating alone had made him a fairly competent
+driver, but he had not yet passed the stage where a corner was something
+to be approached with vast anxiety and to be negotiated with care and
+deliberation. Every inch of the blue varnished surface of the car shone
+resplendently, and every particle of brass was polished until it was
+painful to view.
+
+Two more blasts of the grumpy horn at last produced results. The screen
+door flew open, and Gordon, a piece of toast in one hand and a napkin in
+the other, appeared.
+
+"Say, what time do you think it is?" he demanded laughingly.
+
+"It's time you were through breakfast, anyway," responded Dick. "Get a
+hustle on. _Eli_ hates to stand." (Dick had named the car _Eli Yale_
+because of its color, but generally referred to it as _Eli_.)
+
+"I'll bring a lump of sugar for him," said Gordon. "Keep a tight rein on
+him, Dick, and I'll be with you in five minutes. Maybe he will stand
+long enough for you to come in and have a cup of coffee."
+
+"I wouldn't dare risk it," replied Dick gravely. "Besides, I never take
+coffee in the middle of the forenoon."
+
+"Middle of the forenoon!" grunted the other. "It isn't half-past eight
+yet! Since you got that car, you never go to bed at all, I guess!"
+
+Gordon vanished with that, and Dick leaned comfortably back in the
+runabout to wait. But an instant later a speck of tarnish on the dash
+clock--a gift from Louise Brent--caught his eye, and he whisked a piece
+of cheesecloth from a pocket on the inside of the door and attacked it
+indignantly. Before he had conquered it, returned the cloth and buttoned
+the flap again, Gordon appeared once more, capped and ready for the
+ride.
+
+"All set?"
+
+Dick looked carefully at levers and switch. "All set," he said.
+
+Gordon turned the handle half over, and _Eli_ broke into a frantic
+chugging that could be heard six blocks away. Dick pushed back the
+throttle and pulled down the spark, however, and _Eli_ moderated his
+transports. Gordon, who had clapped his hands to his ears, grinned as he
+climbed in beside Dick and slammed the door. "Gee," he said, "but he's
+some noisy!"
+
+"Not at all," denied Dick indignantly. "He naturally chortles a little
+at times."
+
+"Oh, was he chortling? I thought he was champing his bit. Hello, see
+who's here!" added Gordon, as the car swayed across B Street. A lusty
+shouting was heard, and Fudge came racing along the sidewalk. Dick
+stopped.
+
+"W-w-where you going?" panted Fudge. "Take me, too, Dick. You haven't
+given me a ride yet!"
+
+"All right," laughed Dick. "Open the door and sit on the edge there,
+Fudge. But don't drag your big feet and stop the car."
+
+"Go get your cap," advised Gordon.
+
+"Don't need a cap. Where are you going?"
+
+"Oh, just for a ride," replied Dick, throwing in his clutch again after
+a calculating survey of the empty street.
+
+"The Springdale road's pretty good," suggested Gordon, with a wink at
+Fudge.
+
+"I thought I'd run out toward the Point," said Dick carelessly. "You
+don't meet many teams that way."
+
+"By the way," asked Gordon, "when do they move in?"
+
+"Who?" Dick inquired.
+
+"The Brents, of course." Fudge giggled.
+
+Dick laughed. "Who said anything about the Brents, you idiot?"
+
+"No one; only you spoke of going to the Point. You can drop Fudge and me
+at the hotel. We don't want to be in the way."
+
+"Oh, you run along and play!" said Dick good-naturedly. "If you really
+want to know when they're coming back to town, I'll tell you. They're
+going to move in next Wednesday. Morris says it's too hard to get to
+school on time. And since football practice has begun----" Dick broke
+off to negotiate a corner.
+
+"Morris is crazy to think he can play this Fall," said Fudge. "He will
+bust his leg again. You'll see."
+
+"He's going to try, anyway," said Gordon. "They're going to mark out the
+gridiron this morning, Dick."
+
+"That so? Oh, by the way, I heard from Harold. I've got his letter here
+somewhere. Steady the wheel a minute, Gordie, will you?" Dick drew forth
+an envelope from his pocket and handed it across. "Read it aloud."
+
+  "'Dear Dick,'" read Gordon, "'I passed all right. Only I have got to
+  do some extra Math this term. I was sort of rotten on Math. Old
+  Penny (he's the principal) says I did better than lots of fellows
+  who come here. Loring said I was to thank you, and I do awfully,
+  Dick. You were fine and dandy to me, and I am sorry I was such a
+  rotter at first. And I am very sorry about the Math. It wasn't your
+  fault, Dick. Please remember me to the fellows, and tell them I am
+  coming back next year. I am going out for the junior baseball team
+  next week and maybe next summer I can play for you, Dick, if you
+  want me. Loring says remember him to you, and so no more at present
+  from your firm friend,
+                                                             Harold.'"
+
+"'Firm friend' is pretty good," commented Gordon, as he folded the
+letter up and returned it to its envelope. "But I'm glad the kid passed,
+if only on your account, Dick."
+
+"Yes; if he had failed, I'd have felt sort of mean about taking the
+money. Speaking of money, fellows," he continued, as the runabout slid
+across the trolley tracks and headed toward Rutter's Point, "Mr. Potter
+sent me the statement this morning. I didn't bring it, though."
+
+"How did we come out?" asked Gordon. "About the way we figured?"
+
+"Nearly forty dollars better. There were six hundred and thirty-three
+paid admissions to the game, amounting to four hundred and three
+dollars. The total expenses were, I think, sixty-one dollars; or maybe
+they were sixty-three. Anyway, the net profits amount to three hundred
+and forty-two dollars. That includes four dollars and something made on
+the pennants sold."
+
+"Peanuts?" exclaimed Fudge. "I didn't know we----"
+
+"Pennants, stupid!" corrected Gordon. "Well, that's doing pretty well,
+Dick. Then, after paying for the car, we have money left?"
+
+"Over fifty dollars," was the reply. "What shall we do with it?"
+
+"G-g-give it to me," suggested Fudge.
+
+"I think you ought to have it for gasoline and tires," laughed Gordon.
+"This thing will keep you poor, I'm afraid, Dick."
+
+"No, sir," replied the owner of the car seriously. "I'm studying up on
+autos, and I'm going to make my own repairs. And I've sent for a
+vulcanizing outfit that only costs three dollars and a half. When I get
+that I can fix my own tires. As for gasoline, why, _Eli_ only drinks a
+gallon every twenty miles! And I don't run that far in three days! I
+think it would be a good plan to hand over what we have left to the
+Athletic Committee, Gordie. They'll need a lot of money now that we own
+the field. We'll have to pay the taxes and for water and other things."
+
+"That's right. As far as I'm concerned----"
+
+"Remember this place?" interrupted Dick.
+
+Gordon nodded. "Yes; that's where Morris steered the car into the fence
+and me into the bushes."
+
+"It's where you became a blooming hero," said Fudge.
+
+"Hero, nothing! What I did didn't amount to a row of pins!"
+
+"Well, it amounted to the gift of an athletic field to the school," said
+Dick, with a smile. "That's something, you know!"
+
+"And it amounted to something else, t-t-too," added Fudge. "It made
+Morris a respectable member of s-s-s-society!"
+
+"What beautiful expressions you do use, Fudge!" laughed Gordon.
+
+"Fudge is right, though," agreed Dick, when he had carefully steered the
+car around a wagon. "Morris is a heap more--more likable than he was
+last year. Whether it was the accident----"
+
+"It jarred some of the nonsense out of him, perhaps," said Gordon.
+"Although, for that matter, Dick, maybe you like him better for other
+reasons."
+
+"Humph!" said Dick, with a suspicious sidelong glance. Fudge chuckled.
+
+"Even you and Morris' father seem to be getting quite chummy," pursued
+Gordon, "while as for Mrs. Brent, why, she's absolutely spoony about
+you!"
+
+"Go ahead and enjoy yourself," said Dick. "I don't mind your ravings.
+Looks as though they were getting ready to close the hotel, doesn't it?"
+he added, as they took the corner cautiously and turned into the shore
+road.
+
+"I should think they would. About everyone has gone. Did I tell you what
+Caspar Billings said at the station the other day?"
+
+"I don't think so. What was it?"
+
+"He said he was going to send circulars of the hotel to all the prep
+schools next Spring, so he could get up a nine that would beat us next
+summer and get that pennant back!"
+
+"L-l-let him!" sputtered Fudge. "We'll be ready for them!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, for we'll have Mr. Harold Townsend playing for us," said
+Gordon. "By the way, Dick, we'd better put him in center field, don't
+you think?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"That's all r-r-right!" exploded Fudge. "P-p-put him there! I'm going to
+p-p-p-play in the infield next s-s-s-summer! I'm g-g-going----"
+
+But Fudge's remarks were drowned by the sudden croaking of the horn as
+the blue runabout approached the Brents' cottage.
+
+"There's Morris on the porch," said Dick, adding another dismal warning.
+
+"Yes, and--am I mistaken, or is that---- My sight isn't what it used to
+be, Fudge. Look and tell me if that is Louise on the steps."
+
+"Dry up!" muttered Dick, turning the car toward the curb and throwing
+out the clutch.
+
+Morris and Louise came down the walk. "Some driving, that, Dick," Morris
+applauded.
+
+"Oh, I told him what to do!" said Gordon modestly.
+
+"Good morning, Mister Manager," greeted Louise. "Good morning, Mister
+Captain. Good morning, Mister----" She paused, at a loss.
+
+"Mister Historian," supplied Gordon. "Fudge is writing a beautiful story
+about the game, aren't you, Fudge? He's going to call it----"
+
+"C-c-cut it out!" growled Fudge.
+
+"Please tell me, Fudge," begged Louise. "What _are_ you going to call
+it?"
+
+Fudge scowled, grinned, and relented.
+
+"I'm g-g-going to c-c-c-call it," he said, "'The Lucky Seventh.'"
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
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