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diff --git a/39923-h/39923-h.htm b/39923-h/39923-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7fa0af --- /dev/null +++ b/39923-h/39923-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10206 @@ +<!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 & 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> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH *** + +***** This file should be named 39923-h.htm or 39923-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/9/2/39923/ + +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.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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