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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license
+
+
+Title: The Lucky Seventh
+
+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell
+
+Release Date: June 5, 2012 [EBook #39923]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was
+produced from images made available by the HathiTrust
+Digital Library.)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+
+
+
+By Ralph Henry Barbour
+
+  The Brother of a Hero
+  Benton's Venture
+  Around the End
+  The Junior Trophy
+  Change Signals!
+  Finkler's Field
+  For Yardley
+  The New Boy at Hilltop
+  Winning His "Y"
+  Double Play
+  Forward Pass!
+  The Spirit of the School
+  Four Afloat
+  Weatherby's Inning
+  The Half-Back
+  On Your Mark
+  Four in Camp
+  Four Afoot
+  For the Honor of the School
+  Captain of the Crew
+  Behind the Line
+  The Arrival of Jimpson
+
+D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering
+wood, and----"]
+
+
+
+
+THE LUCKY SEVENTH
+
+BY
+
+RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
+
+AUTHOR OF "THE BROTHER OF A HERO,"
+"BENTON'S VENTURE," ETC.
+
+[Illustration]
+
+ILLUSTRATED BY NORMAN P. ROCKWELL
+
+NEW YORK AND LONDON
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+1915
+
+
+
+
+Copyright, 1915, by
+
+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
+
+Printed in the United States of America
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                 PAGE
+
+  I.     Gordon Gets a Letter                1
+  II.    Dick Consents                      10
+  III.   A Rich Man's Son                   28
+  IV.    The Team Elects Its Captain        43
+  V.     Dick Visits the Point              57
+  VI.    Clearfield Plays the Point         67
+  VII.   The Blue Runabout                  76
+  VIII.  Across the Gully                   87
+  IX.    Mr. Merrick Breaks a Plate         95
+  X.     Gordon Bears a Message            104
+  XI.    Fudge Scents a Secret             115
+  XII.   A Reversed Decision               126
+  XIII.  Jack Is Suspended                 141
+  XIV.   A Visit To the Invalid            150
+  XV.    On the Rocks                      163
+  XVI.   Dick Scores a Defeat              177
+  XVII.  Harold Makes a Promise            193
+  XVIII. The Live Wires--and Mr. Potter    205
+  XIX.   Mr. Potter Gets Busy              218
+  XX.    Mr. Brent to the Rescue           233
+  XXI.   Mr. Brent Telephones              246
+  XXII.  Gordon Brings Good News           261
+  XXIII. Mr. Brent Throws a Ball           271
+  XXIV.  Dick Smiles                       284
+  XXV.   "The Lucky Seventh"               302
+
+
+
+
+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+  "There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood----"
+                                                         _Frontispiece_
+
+                                                            FACING PAGE
+
+  "'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge"                         54
+
+  "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"                        224
+
+  "The Lucky Seventh had proved itself"                             298
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+GORDON GETS A LETTER
+
+
+When Gordon Merrick neared the corner of Troutman Street he slowed down
+his bicycle and finally drew in at the curb, putting out a foot to hold
+himself in the saddle while he deliberated. So deep in thought was he
+that when the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half asleep
+under the blue and white umbrella, he never knew of it until the
+sprinkler had drenched him from foot to knee. The driver awoke at that
+moment and, looking back, saw Gordon.
+
+"Hi, there!" he shouted. "Look out!"
+
+Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected bath, smiled.
+
+"Why?" he asked. "Are you coming back?"
+
+The joke was lost on the driver of the watering cart, however. He only
+scowled and settled back to slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glanced
+ruefully at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks of that no
+harm had been done, for it was a hot morning in early July and the
+feeling of the cool water against his leg had been decidedly pleasant.
+Evidently the incident had brought a decision in the weighty problem
+which had confronted him, for with no more hesitation he turned his
+wheel to the left and peddled on down E Street.
+
+"I'll talk to Dick about it," he said to himself. "He always knows what
+to do."
+
+The Loverings lived in the third house from the corner, one of a
+half-dozen modest abodes occupying that side of the block. All the
+houses were painted white, although differing slightly in the simplicity
+of their architecture, and all were more or less hidden from view by
+hedges of lilac or arbor-vitae. Old-fashioned white picket fences peeked
+out between the leaves of the hedges. The street itself was
+old-fashioned. Ten years before it had been in the desirable part of
+Clearfield, but since then the residential center had worked westward
+and the row of quiet, green-shuttered cottages was being closed in by
+such unsavory neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.
+
+Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened porch as the latter
+jumped from his bicycle and leaned it against the hitching-post in front
+of the little gate. "Hello, Gordie! Come on up."
+
+Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which stretched the width
+of the house. There was a table beside him which held a few flowers in a
+quaint old green vase and many books and magazines. Dick's crutches
+stood against the wall within reach, for Dick, as he put it, was "very
+fond of his crutches and never went anywhere without them." He was
+seventeen, a tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and just the
+smallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks. As Gordon came up the
+steps Dick laid down the magazine he had been reading and smiled his
+pleasant smile.
+
+"Been in the pond?" he asked, viewing the other's wet trousers.
+
+"Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are you, Dickums?"
+
+"Fine. Swell weather, isn't it? You look warm, though."
+
+"So would you if you'd been riding all over town. Say, I got a letter
+from Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think about
+it. I've got it here somewhere."
+
+"Where is Bert?" asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets.
+
+"Bridgeport, Connecticut. He's working for his uncle in some sort of a
+factory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week.
+Here it is. You'd better read it."
+
+"You do it," smiled Dick. "I'm lazy to-day."
+
+"Well, he says--Where is it?--Here we are. 'I'm sending a letter that
+came the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we're still playing
+ball and wants a game with us. I haven't answered it. What I was
+thinking was why don't you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of the
+fellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot of
+fun. Those fellows at the Point aren't anything to be scared of. You
+could get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitch
+for you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don't you?
+Anyway, you answer the letter. I'm awfully busy here and don't have much
+time for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all the
+time and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tell
+Harry Bryan when you see him that he's got my glove and is to send it to
+me because I may need it. We're getting up a team here at the factory.
+We've got a dandy pitcher and I guess they'll put me at short. Don't
+forget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.'"
+
+Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. "What do you think?" he asked.
+
+"Why, I dare say they will."
+
+"Dare say who will? Will what?"
+
+"Put Bert at short," chuckled Dick.
+
+"Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?"
+
+"Good, I'd say. I suppose," with a humorous glance at his crutches, "you
+came around to see if I'd play third base for you."
+
+"Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don't see how you can always be so
+cheerful about--about it! I couldn't."
+
+"Well, it isn't hard, Gordie, when you've had seventeen years' practice.
+Of course, if I'd been able to get around like other fellows and
+then--then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chap
+might as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don't miss much
+fun. I can't play games or run or skate or--or do a lot of things I'd
+like to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if
+I _could_--well, play third base, say, I'd do it better than the next
+chap. The beauty of it is that you can't prove I wouldn't!"
+
+"I'll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and more
+football than most of the fellows who play."
+
+"Why not?" laughed Dick. "They don't have as much time to study it as I
+do. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind
+about me. What's this Billings chap say?"
+
+"Oh!" Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope and read
+its contents. "'Mr. Bert Cable, Captain Clearfield High School Baseball
+Club, Dear Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up a ball
+team and we want games. Will you play us? We'll play on our own field or
+on yours, just as you say. Any date after July 10th will suit us,
+Wednesdays or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average about the
+same as your team, I guess. Please let me hear from you, and if there
+are any other teams around Clearfield we could play with I wish you'd
+let me know and send managers' addresses. Very truly, Caspar Billings,
+Captain, Rutter's Point Baseball Association.'"
+
+"Caspar Billings," mused Dick. "Which one of the Silk Stocking Brigade
+is he, Gordon?"
+
+Gordon smiled. "I don't remember him particularly. He's a sort of chum
+of Morris Brent, though."
+
+"That all you can say for him?" asked Dick. "I suppose Morris will play
+with the Pointers?"
+
+"I guess so. He won't be much of a help, though. He plays ball
+like--like a turtle!"
+
+"Morris says," replied Dick with his slow smile, "that he can play a lot
+better than most of you fellows and that if Bert and Tom Haley and some
+of the others weren't down on him he'd have made the team last spring."
+
+"Guff! He can't catch a ball. He's not a bad sort, Morris, if his dad
+_does_ own the town, but he's no Ty Cobb! Well, what do you think about
+getting up a team, Dickums?"
+
+"Why not? You've got plenty of fellows. Most of the school team are
+still around, aren't they?"
+
+"All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe Browne."
+
+"Where's Warner?"
+
+"I don't know. Gone away with his folks somewhere for the summer. Wish
+my folks would do that."
+
+"Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let's make up the team. Haley,
+pitch, and Lanny, catcher----"
+
+"I'll play first and Harry Bryan second----"
+
+"How about Will Scott?"
+
+"Third. Then for shortstop----"
+
+"Jack Tappen?"
+
+"N-no, he'd better play in the outfield. I'll put him down for right. I
+guess Pete Robey's the chap for short. That leaves us Way for left field
+and I guess Fudge will do for center. He can't hit much, but he can pull
+down a fly."
+
+"There you are, then. What will you call the nine? You can't be the High
+School team, I suppose."
+
+"N-no, we'll have to find a name. The Clearfield--what, Dickums?"
+
+"Rovers?"
+
+"Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs," laughed Gordon. "We might call
+ourselves the Purple Sox, only it's sort of hard to say."
+
+"Shorten it," suggested Dick. "Call yourselves the 'Purps.'"
+
+"That's worse than the Rovers! Why not just the Clearfield Ball Club?"
+
+"Why not? That's settled. Now you want a manager----"
+
+"Got one."
+
+"You have? Who?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Me!"
+
+"Surest thing you know. That's partly why I came. To tell you. You see,
+I thought you'd want to know it."
+
+"Very thoughtful of you," Dick laughed. "But will you tell me how I can
+manage a ball team, you idiot?"
+
+"Why can't you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and look
+after the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make me
+captain----"
+
+"Which they will, as it's your scheme!"
+
+"It's really Bert's. But if they do I'm going to tell the other fellows
+that they've got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I do
+and you're going to be the real thing."
+
+"Nonsense!"
+
+"No nonsense about it. That's settled, then."
+
+"But, look here, I'd have to go to places with you and--and--well, you
+know, Gordie, I can't afford to do that very often."
+
+"It won't cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club.
+Besides, we'll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess.
+Now I'm going to see Lanny and talk it over with him."
+
+"Well, all right. I'll be manager if you really want me to. I'd like it.
+Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think----"
+
+"You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death," replied
+Gordon severely. "And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off
+this porch now and then. You don't get enough sunshine and fresh air."
+
+"Considering that I'm outdoors all day and sleep with my head through
+the window," laughed Dick, "that's a bit of a joke. But have your own
+way, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?"
+
+"Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I'll come over again after dinner. Rah for
+the Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+DICK CONSENTS
+
+
+"The only th-thing is," said Fudge, "it's going to co-cost a heap, isn't
+it?"
+
+Fudge, whose real name was William Shaw, was fifteen years of age, had
+sandy-red hair and blue eyes and was short of stature and round of body.
+His habitual expression was one of pleased surprise, due probably to the
+fact that his blue eyes were very blue and very big. When Fudge was the
+least bit excited he stammered, but the habit was too slight to be an
+affliction, and his friends sometimes got Fudge upset in order to enjoy
+his facial contortions when the word wouldn't come promptly. It was
+Lansing White who, several years before in grammar school, had dubbed
+him Fudge. Lanny declared that "pshaw" and "fudge" meant the same thing
+and that "fudge" was more novel. At the present moment Fudge was seated
+in the apple tree which grew by the fence where the Shaws' side-yard and
+the Merricks' back-yard came together. It was a favorite retreat with
+Fudge, and he had built a shelf handy to the comfortable crotch he
+affected on which to place books and papers when, as was customary, he
+was studying his lessons there. To-day, however, as school was over for
+the summer, there were no books about and the shelf bore, instead, a
+tennis racket which Fudge had been mending when Gordon found him.
+
+"I don't see why," replied Gordon, leaning his arms on the top of the
+fence. "We've all got our High School uniforms and we've all got bats
+and mitts and things. All we'd need to spend money on would be balls, I
+guess. Of course, when we went away every fellow would have to pay his
+transportation."
+
+"M-meaning carfare?" queried Fudge. "Say, it's a peach of a scheme,
+Gordie! I wish I could bat better, though. Maybe I'll get on to it, eh?
+I guess what I need is practice." And Fudge, swinging an imaginary bat
+at an invisible ball, almost fell off the branch. "Who's going to be
+captain?" he asked when he had recovered his equilibrium.
+
+"We'll vote, I suppose," replied Gordon.
+
+Fudge grinned. "Then it'll be me. I'm awfully popular. Have you told
+Lanny yet?"
+
+"Yes, and he says if you play center there's got to be a rule that a hit
+to center field is good for only three bases."
+
+Fudge snorted indignantly. "If he ever hit a ball as far as the outfield
+he'd fall in a faint! When do we start?"
+
+"I've got to see the other fellows yet. Harry is working in his father's
+store and I don't know whether his dad will let him play."
+
+"That's so. We need him, too. He's a peach of a baseman. Who's going to
+play short?"
+
+"I want Pete Robey to," replied Gordon doubtfully. "Think he'd do,
+Fudge?"
+
+"We-ell, Pete isn't so much of a muchness. Why don't you p-put him in
+center and let me play short?"
+
+"Because a fellow has to have brains to play in the infield, Fudge,
+and----"
+
+Fudge tried to reach him with the racket, failed and, composing his
+features to an expression of grave interest, asked: "Won't it be awfully
+hard to find anyone to play first?"
+
+Gordon smiled. "Never you mind about first. Get your wheel and let's go
+around and see some of the fellows. We can catch Harry at the store if
+we hurry. I want to see Tom, too. If he won't go into it and pitch for
+us we might as well give it up."
+
+"Oh, Tom'll pitch all right," answered Fudge, dropping from the tree,
+racket in hand. "He'd rather pitch a baseball than eat. I'll meet you
+out front in two minutes."
+
+He wormed his way through the currant bushes to the garden path and
+disappeared toward the house, while Gordon, dodging the clothes lines
+strung near the rear fence, went along the brick walk and gained the
+side porch by the simple expedient of vaulting the railing. The Merrick
+house was new--most of the residences on that end of Troutman Street
+were--and was mildly pretentious. Mr. Merrick was a lawyer and
+comfortably well-to-do. The family had lived in Clearfield for six
+generations and had given its name to one of the principal streets in
+the downtown business part of the city. I refer to Clearfield as a city,
+and it really was, but it was not a very large city. The latest census
+credited it with something over 17,000 inhabitants. Like many New
+England cities of its kind, it owed its growth and prosperity to
+factories of various sorts. Mill River, which entered the bay two miles
+distant, flowed along the edge of the town and provided water-power for
+a number of large manufacturing plants, knitting mills, a sewing machine
+factory, a silverware factory and several others.
+
+The knitting mills were largely owned by Mr. Brent, the Honorable
+Jonathan Brent, as the Clearfield _Reporter_ usually referred to him,
+and while Gordon had spoken of Mr. Brent "owning the town," he had, of
+course, exaggerated, but still had not been very far wide of the mark.
+Mr. Brent was Clearfield's richest and its leading citizen. Besides the
+knitting mills he controlled two banks and the street railway and
+lighting service and had a finger--usually two or three fingers--in many
+other enterprises. The Brent residence, standing imposingly in a whole
+block of land, was visible, further along Troutman Street, from the
+Merricks' porch. In this, the more recently developed part of the town,
+the wide streets were lined with maples as yet too young to afford much
+shade, but a giant elm tree, which had been old long before Clearfield
+even thought of growing away from the river, stood just inside the
+Merricks' front gate and effectively screened the house from the hot
+sunlight.
+
+Gordon contented himself with putting his head inside the screen door
+and announcing in a loud voice: "Mother, I'm going downtown. Is there
+anything you want?" Mrs. Merrick's voice floated down from upstairs in
+reply: "No, dear; but please try to be on time for dinner. You know your
+father dislikes----"
+
+But Gordon didn't hear the rest of it. He didn't need to. He knew what
+his father disliked. His father disliked having him late for his meals,
+disliked his going out in the evenings, disliked--oh, so many things!
+Gordon sighed as he mounted his wheel. Life was really extremely
+difficult at times!
+
+He was a well-built, athletic youth of fifteen years, with a pleasant,
+clean-cut face, dark brown eyes and hair and a well-tanned skin. He
+looked very much alive and rather enthusiastic, just the sort of a boy,
+in short, to undertake and carry through successfully such an enterprise
+as the formation of the Clearfield Baseball Club.
+
+Fudge was waiting for him around the corner, and they set off together
+in search of Tom Haley. Tom lived in what folks called the East End,
+which was that section of the town near the railroad largely inhabited
+by workers in the mills and factories. Tom's father was a foreman in the
+sewing-machine works, and the family occupied a tiny story-and-a-half
+cottage so close to the railroad tracks that it shook whenever the
+trains passed. Fortunately they found Tom at home, very busily engaged
+repairing the front steps, surrounded by carpenter's tools and three
+junior members of the Haley family. He rescued the chisel from Tille,
+aged four, deprived the baby of a handful of nails, told George, aged
+six, to stop sawing the chair leg, and greeted his visitors.
+
+Tom was sixteen, big, broad-shouldered and raw-boned, with an angular
+face and high cheek-bones liberally speckled with freckles. At present
+he was minus coat and vest and wore a pair of blue overalls. "You kids
+get in the house now," he instructed the suddenly silent trio of
+youngsters, "and tell your mother to keep you in there, too. You've
+bothered me enough. Shoo, the whole lot of you!"
+
+They went, with many backward glances, and Tom cleared a space on the
+edge of the unrailed porch for Gordon and Fudge. "Say, it's some warm,
+isn't it? What you fellows up to to-day? Going to the pond?"
+
+"No, we're calling on you," replied Fudge.
+
+"Much obliged. What's the game?"
+
+"Baseball," said Gordon. "We're getting up a team to play the Rutter's
+Point fellows and we want you to join, Tom."
+
+"I don't mind, if there isn't much practice. There's a lot to be done
+around the house here this summer. We're going to shingle next week, and
+after that we'll paint. Who's on the team?"
+
+Gordon explained all about it, read Bert Cable's letter and Caspar
+Billings' and told Tom the line-up of the nine as he had planned it.
+
+"Sounds all right," said Tom. "When are you going to start?"
+
+"Right away. If you'll pitch for us we'll be all right. I'll answer
+Billings' letter and tell him we'll meet him a week from Wednesday.
+That'll give us a whole week for practicing."
+
+"All right, I'm with you, only don't expect me to practice much, Gordon.
+I'm pretty busy. I'll come out a couple of times, though; say--let me
+see--say Friday and Monday. Going to use the school field?"
+
+"Yes. I don't suppose anyone will object?"
+
+"Don't see why they should. You'd better see Mr. Grayson, though."
+
+"I will. No, that will be up to Dick. He's going to be manager."
+
+"Dick Lovering?" asked Tom, in surprise. "Well, I don't see why not. He
+can get around all right. Have you asked him?"
+
+"Yes, and he said he would. The only thing is, Tom, we'll have to pay
+his expenses if we go away from home very far. I told him we would. It
+wouldn't be much if we shared it. You see, Dick doesn't have much money.
+I guess they're pretty hard-up. His father only left them that house
+they're in and a little insurance money, and of course Dick can't do
+much to earn any."
+
+"He told me the other day," said Fudge, "that he was trying to get work
+tutoring this summer over at the Point. He could do that finely if he
+could find anyone to toot. Hope he does. Dick's a peach."
+
+"Then we'll have first practice Wednesday, the rest of us, and we'll
+look for you Friday, Tom. I've got to catch Harry before he goes home.
+Maybe his father won't let him off. If he won't we'll be in a bad way
+for a second baseman."
+
+"If you hold practice late--say, half-past four--I guess Harry could get
+there," said Tom. "And we wouldn't play more than twice a week, I
+suppose. Who else are you going after besides the Pointers?"
+
+"I don't know. Maybe Lesterville. They've got a pretty good club over
+there. I guess we can find games enough, Tom."
+
+"I suppose the Springdale team has disbanded," said Tom. "I'd like to
+get another whack at those fellows!"
+
+"So would I," Gordon agreed. "We never should have lost that last game,
+Tom. We all played like idiots, though. Six errors is going some!"
+
+"It was an off-day with me, all right," grumbled Tom. "I couldn't put
+'em over the plate to save my life in the last four innings."
+
+"We'll lick them at football this fall," asserted Fudge.
+
+"Bound to," agreed Tom, with a sly wink at Gordon. "Fudge is going to
+play, you know."
+
+"You bet I am!" exclaimed Fudge. "I'm going to p-p-play end. I'm
+g-g-going----"
+
+"So am I," laughed Gordon. "Right now. Come along, Fudge, and we'll hunt
+up Harry. I'm glad you'll come in with us, Tom. By the way, I suppose we
+ought to have a sort of meeting to organize pretty soon. How would it do
+if you all came to my house to-morrow evening? We'll have to choose a
+captain and--and talk things over."
+
+"Oh, you'll be captain," said Tom. "It's your scheme. Besides, who else
+is there?"
+
+"You, or Harry, or Will Scott, or----"
+
+"Shucks, they're not made for it. It'll be either you or Lansing, I
+guess. Anyway, I'll be over to-morrow, if you say so, about eight. So
+long. I've got to get these boards down before dinner."
+
+They found Harry Bryan in his father's grocery. He, too, was very busy,
+but he stopped putting up orders long enough to hear Gordon's tale, and
+was instantly enthusiastic.
+
+"I'll have to ask my dad, though," he said doubtfully. "He's keeping me
+pretty close to business," he added importantly.
+
+"What do you do, Harry?" asked Fudge. "Put the sand in the sugar?"
+
+Harry treated the insult with silent contempt. "I'll ask him to-night,
+though," he continued, "and let you know."
+
+"Telephone me, will you? We'll have practice late in the afternoon,
+Harry. You wouldn't have to get away until after four."
+
+"I know. I guess he will let me. He ought to." Harry observed the yellow
+slips in his hand somberly. "I've been working pretty hard, I tell you."
+
+"I should think," suggested the irrepressible Fudge, "that if you worked
+late to-night you could sand enough sugar to last the week out!"
+
+"Say, they're not going to let you play, are they, Fudge?"
+
+"How could they do without me?"
+
+"It'll be a peach of a nine!" jeered Harry. He was only a year older
+than Fudge, but pretended to regard that youth with amused toleration,
+and so caused Fudge deep annoyance at times.
+
+"Well, we've got eight good ones," responded Fudge sweetly. "If we could
+only find a fellow to play second base, we'd be all right."
+
+"It's a wonder they don't put you there."
+
+"Oh, I was offered the position, bu-but I didn't want it. I prefer the
+outfield. There's more re-re-responsibility there."
+
+"You're a wonder!" said Harry. "What would you do if a ball came your
+way? Hold your mouth open and try to swallow it?"
+
+"You wa-wait and see! If I co-co-couldn't catch a b-b-ball better
+th-th-than you----"
+
+"Calm yourself, Fudge! You're off your trolley again! I'll be around
+to-morrow night, Gordon. Now I'll have to get busy. Watch Fudge as he
+goes out, will you? Last time he was in he got away with three or four
+pounds of prunes."
+
+"I took three of the old th-th-th-things," said Fudge bitterly, "and
+they n-n-nearly killed me!"
+
+They left Harry surrounded by baskets, frowning over the order slips in
+his hand, and made their way back to the sidewalk and their wheels. As
+it was almost noon, Gordon decided not to risk his father's displeasure
+by seeing any more of the fellows before dinner, and he and Fudge
+pedaled home, Fudge still sputtering about those prunes.
+
+At a little after four that afternoon Gordon was back at Dick's to
+report success. All the members of the Clearfield Ball Club had agreed
+to play and to attend the organization meeting the next evening--all,
+that is, save Harry Bryan, who was to telephone later.
+
+"Now, Dickums, if you'll write to Billings and tell him----"
+
+"If _I'll_ write!"
+
+Gordon laughed. "Of course; you're the manager, aren't you?"
+
+"Humph! So I have to attend to the correspondence too, do I? It seems to
+me that you ought to write that letter. Bert sent it to you, and you're
+captain, and----"
+
+"Well, that's what I thought," responded Gordon cheerfully, "until I got
+to thinking it over. Then I remembered that you were manager, and, of
+course, managers always attend to arranging contests; and there you are.
+Just tell him we'll play his team on Wednesday the sixteenth, Dickums,
+at the Point."
+
+"All right. I might call on him and tell him about it, though, for I'm
+going over to the Point in the morning."
+
+"You are? What for?"
+
+"To get a job, I hope. You know I got them to put up a notice in the
+hotel over there for me: 'tutoring in French, Mathematics, and English;
+references; terms on request.' This afternoon a Mrs. Townsend called me
+up by telephone, and she wants me to come over in the morning and see
+about coaching her son. He's going to Rifle Point School in the Fall and
+is weak on English and Math. He's thirteen, she says. She seemed to
+think the price was all right, but she wants me to have a look at the
+youngster first. Sounded as though she was afraid I wouldn't like him.
+I'd coach a Bengal tiger if I got paid for it. I need the money,
+Gordie."
+
+"That's fine! Then why not see Billings instead of writing to him? You
+could arrange the whole thing in five minutes. Do you know where he
+lives?"
+
+"No, but they can tell me at the hotel, I guess. By the way, why do you
+want to play over there? Why not have them come over here?"
+
+"Because I saw Mr. Grayson awhile ago and asked him if it would be all
+right if we used the school field, and he said it would as far as he was
+concerned, but that he'd just got notice from Mr. Brent that they are
+going to cut the field up pretty soon for building lots. I suppose we
+could use it until they begin to build on it, but I haven't seen Mr.
+Brent yet, and I thought it would be safer to say we'd play them at the
+Point. They'll probably want another game, and then, if it's all right
+about the field, we could play them here."
+
+"But that will leave us without an athletic field!" exclaimed Dick, in
+dismay. "I thought we had a lease or something on it."
+
+"Mr. Grayson says not. Says Mr. Brent just agreed to let us use it as
+long as it wasn't needed for anything else. Now he wants it put in the
+market for house lots. Rather tough, isn't it? I guess we can find
+another field somewhere, though."
+
+"Not in town," said Dick. "We'll probably have to go across the river
+somewhere. There are plenty of fields over there, but they're as rough
+as the dickens. What did Mr. Grayson say about that?"
+
+"Nothing much. He seemed to think it was up to the Athletic Committee."
+
+"Perhaps it is, but he's principal, and----"
+
+"Shucks, he wouldn't care a lot if we didn't have a field, I guess!"
+
+"I don't think that, Gordie. Grayson's not very keen about our
+athletics, I know, but he's been pretty decent, just the same. We'll
+have to get busy right away and find a new place. The football fellows
+will want to start practice in something like two months. Does Way know
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know. I saw Grayson after I left Way. I don't believe he does,
+for he didn't say anything. He will have to get the committee together
+and have a meeting, I guess. Who's on it now?"
+
+"Aren't you?"
+
+"No, not this year. There's Way, and Harry, and Bert----"
+
+"Well, Bert can't come. I think Will Scott is on it, isn't he?"
+
+"Maybe; he probably is if Way belongs. Well, it's up to Way. I thought
+I'd ask Mr. Brent if we could keep on using the field for a while; or
+have Morris ask him. I dare say he'd be more likely to say yes if Morris
+asks him. Come to think of it, Dickums, as you're manager----"
+
+"No, you don't! I wouldn't beard old man Brent in his den for a hundred
+dollars! If I've got to do that, I'll resign!"
+
+"All right, then, I'll do it!" laughed Gordon. "Or I'll see Morris about
+it. I don't see why he needs to cut up that field, though. Seems to me
+there are enough houses in this town already."
+
+"Wants the money, probably. Bet you Jonathan Brent would cut up the
+Garden of Eden for house lots if he had it!"
+
+"You don't seem to care a whole lot for Mr. Brent, Dickums."
+
+"I don't," responded Dick emphatically. "We wouldn't be like we are
+now--as poor as church mice--if father hadn't got mixed up with Mr.
+Brent in one of his real-estate schemes. I'm not saying that Mr. Brent
+was dishonest, Gordie, but he was too sharp for dad, and dad got let in
+for a pile of money."
+
+"I didn't know that," said Gordon. "You never told me, did you?"
+
+"No. It was a long time ago, when I was just a kid. Dad moved here from
+Norwalk when I was three years old. He had quite a little
+money--thirteen or fourteen thousand dollars it was--and Mr. Brent got
+him to invest it in that South-west Division, as they called it. They
+got hold of a pile of land down the river toward the Point. You know;
+where the picnic grove is. They were going to sell it for factory sites
+and there was a railway coming through to connect with the Shore Line,
+and everything was fine--on paper. But the bottom fell out of the
+scheme; the factories didn't come, and the railroad decided not to
+build; and the mortgages were foreclosed; and after it was all over Mr.
+Brent had the whole thing and dad had nothing! And it was all legal and
+above-board, too! And that's why I've never had much use for Jonathan
+Brent; nor Morris, either, although Morris has never done anything to
+me."
+
+"You and he seem to be pretty good friends," said Gordon.
+
+"I know. He---- Well, he seems to like me pretty well, and you can't be
+anything but decent to a fellow in that case, can you? I suppose if
+Jonathan Brent wasn't his father I'd like him well enough. Well, I'll
+stop in and see this Billings chap to-morrow. It's less trouble than
+writing a letter, I guess. Wednesday the sixteenth, on their own
+grounds, at--what time?"
+
+"Three o'clock, I suppose," answered Gordon. "That will give us plenty
+of time to get over on the two-o'clock car and warm up a bit before the
+game. You might tell him about our field, and say that if they want a
+return game we'll play it over here if we can get the use of the field.
+By the way, that grandstand at the field belongs to the school. We'll
+have to move that if we get out. I wish Mr. Brent would be satisfied
+with all the money he's got and not go and take our field away from us."
+
+"So do I. What we want to do, though, is to watch out and be sure he
+doesn't swipe the grandstand too!"
+
+"Well, you _are_ rabid!" laughed Gordon. "Still, I don't know that I
+blame you. I never knew that about your father, Dickums."
+
+"Well, don't repeat it, please. It's all done with now, and there's no
+use talking about it. I don't--very often. Only sometimes---- Well, I
+get sort of hot under the collar when I think of all the money Jonathan
+Brent has and how awfully hard we have to scrabble to get along.
+Good-bye, Mr. Captain."
+
+"Good-bye, Mr. Manager. I'm not captain, though."
+
+"You will be," laughed Dick. "You always are, you know!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+A RICH MAN'S SON
+
+
+Gordon had doubts of finding Morris Brent at home when, shortly after
+nine o'clock the next morning, he walked up the neat artificial-stone
+path to the front door of Brentwood. But the maid who responded to his
+ring assured him that Master Morris was in, and led the way to the
+gray-and-gold reception room. He decided to take no chances with the
+spindle-legged, silk-brocaded chairs, and took refuge in front of the
+mantel, from which place he viewed the gray satin wall panels and dainty
+luxuries of the apartment with surprise. He didn't have to wait long,
+however, for he had only just reached the conclusion that the room was
+pretty but uncomfortable when footsteps sounded quickly in the hall and
+a boy a year older than he appeared in the doorway.
+
+"Hello, Gordon! How are you? Say, what did they put you in here for?
+This room gives me the creeps, doesn't it you? Come on out on the
+piazza."
+
+Gordon followed his host across the hall, through a warm-toned,
+luxurious but decidedly comfortable library and out of a French door
+onto a wide porch that was screened and curtained. There were many
+bright rugs and gayly cushioned easy-chairs here; and tables with
+blossoming plants and books and magazines on them. From the porch one
+looked across a carefully kept lawn to where a symmetrically clipped
+hedge bordered Louise Street. Mr. Brent owned not only the block on
+which his estate was located, but some eight or nine adjoining blocks
+besides, his property running from his back line across Troutman,
+Lafayette, Main, and Common Streets to the river, including, two blocks
+north, the plot of land which for many years the High School had used as
+an athletic field. Mr. Brent had laid out the section himself and had
+named the two cross streets after his son and daughter, Morris and
+Louise.
+
+Morris was a good-looking youth, with a self-confident air and a
+somewhat dissatisfied expression. He was tall, carried himself well,
+dressed rather more expensively than his companions in high school, and
+was never quite able to forget or allow others to forget that he was
+Jonathan Brent's son and heir. But, in spite of that, he was not
+unpopular, and if there was any snobbishness about him it was
+unconscious. In fact, there were one or two of his acquaintances in
+Clearfield to whom he went out of his way to ingratiate himself. Gordon
+was one and Dick was another. But Gordon had never cared to respond more
+than half-heartedly to Morris' advances, while Dick's attitude we
+already know.
+
+Morris pulled forward the most comfortable chair for his guest, repeated
+that he was glad to see him, and for several minutes gave Gordon no
+chance to state his errand. When he did, however, Morris was as much
+surprised as Dick had been.
+
+"Dad hasn't mentioned it to me," he said, with a frown. "That's too bad,
+isn't it? I don't see why he needs to cut up that land just now. What'll
+we do, Gordon, for a place to play?"
+
+"Dick said he supposed we'd have to go across the river. That would make
+it pretty far from school, though. But I don't know of any place in
+town, do you?"
+
+Morris shook his head, and Gordon went on:
+
+"What I wanted to see you about was to ask if you thought your father
+would have any objection to our using the field until they began to
+build on it. I don't think they've done anything there yet. I thought
+maybe you wouldn't mind asking your father, Morris."
+
+Morris hesitated a moment. "I'll ask him," he said, at last, "but he and
+I--well, we aren't on very good terms just now. Honestly, I think it
+would be better if you asked him yourself, Gordon. I'm afraid he'd say
+no to me just to--to be nasty. You see, we had a sort of row about an
+automobile. He kind of promised last Christmas that he'd get me a
+runabout this Spring, and when I asked about it he put me off; and so
+I"--Morris grinned--"I went ahead and got Stacey to order one for me. It
+came yesterday, and I told dad and he got as mad as a hatter about it.
+Says I can't have it now. I'm going to, though. I've got some money in
+the bank, and Stacey says he'll wait for the rest of it. It's only six
+hundred dollars, anyway."
+
+"Too bad!" murmured Gordon, not very enthusiastically. "Maybe he will
+change his mind, though."
+
+"Not he! He isn't made that way. What are you going to do at the field?
+Play ball?"
+
+Gordon told about the letter from Caspar Billings and the formation of
+the ball club. "I suppose," he ended, "you'll play with the Point
+fellows?"
+
+Morris shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose so. I haven't heard anything
+about it yet. Caspar's a friend of mine, though. We don't move out to
+the Point until the seventeenth this summer. Dad's full of business and
+as grouchy as the dickens. Sis and I have been trying to get mother to
+spunk up and insist on moving right away, but she won't. Who's on your
+team, Gordon?"
+
+Gordon told him. Morris criticised several of his selections and was
+infinitely amused at the idea of Fudge Shaw playing. Gordon had an
+uneasy feeling that Morris perhaps resented not being asked to join. But
+if Morris held any resentment, he didn't show it.
+
+"We ought to have some good games," he said finally and approvingly. "I
+dare say Caspar will want me to play on his team. You know him, don't
+you?"
+
+Gordon was doubtful. "I think I remember him," he said, "but I'm not
+sure. What does he look like?"
+
+"Oh, rather a good-looking chap--big, dark hair, plays tennis a lot and
+is pretty good at it. He lives in a cottage near the hotel, the second
+in the row at the left. He's a dandy chap, Billings. I don't see,
+though, where he's going to get enough fellows at the Point to make up a
+nine, unless there are more there this year than usual. Perhaps he's got
+some fellows staying with him. He goes to St. George's, you know, and
+last year he brought a couple of friends home with him for a while."
+
+"Dick went over to the Point this morning to see about coaching a boy
+who is going to Rifle Point in the Fall," said Gordon. "He's going to
+look up Billings and tell him we'll play him a week from Saturday."
+
+"Could Dick do that? Coach, I mean."
+
+"I guess so. You know he's about the smartest fellow in his class at
+school. He wants to earn some money, and there aren't many things he can
+do. I hope he gets the job."
+
+"Yes. I like Dick. He's terribly white, isn't he? Gee, if I had a bum
+hip like his and had to live on crutches, I'd--I'd----" But words failed
+him. He shook his head. "He's so awfully cheerful. Who is the kid he's
+going to coach?"
+
+"I've forgotten the name. He told me. Something like Prentiss, I think."
+
+Morris shook his head again. "Don't know them. They must be new. When I
+get over there, Gordon, I'll see if I can't drum up some trade for Dick.
+I know about everyone there." He paused, and then added morosely, with a
+wry smile: "It might be a mighty good scheme if I had him coach me a
+bit. I've got to take my college exams next year, and I know blamed well
+I won't pass them." He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I've got another
+year yet. Do you have to go? Stay and play a couple of sets of tennis
+with me. You've never tried our court, have you?"
+
+"I'd like to, but I want to get this business settled. I guess I'd
+better go and see your father about the field. I'd like to play, though,
+some time," he added, as he saw Morris' face fall. "It looks like a
+bully court."
+
+"It is. It's a dandy. Fast as lightning. I haven't played much myself
+this year, and I'm all out of trim. Sis and I had a couple of sets the
+other day, and she pretty nearly licked me."
+
+"I hope your sister is well," murmured Gordon. "And Mrs. Brent."
+
+"Yes, thanks. Sis ought to be around somewhere. Wait till I see."
+
+He got up and passed into the library, and Gordon heard him calling his
+sister at the stairway. He came back in a moment. "She's coming down,"
+he announced. "Don't hurry off. Dad will be in his office all the
+morning, I guess. I hope you don't mind my not wanting to ask him,
+Gordon. I would in a minute, only, as I say, we aren't very chummy just
+now."
+
+At that moment Louise Brent came through the doorway, and Gordon, who
+had reseated himself after his first start to leave, arose again. She
+was tall, like her brother, but, unlike him, was light in coloring, with
+brown hair that just escaped being yellow and a very fair skin and blue
+eyes. She was not a beauty, but she was pretty in spite of irregular
+features, with a lot of animation and a smile that won friends at once.
+She was fifteen; but she looked older, Gordon thought as he took the
+hand she extended.
+
+"I haven't seen you for a long time, Gordon," she said, as she seated
+herself on the edge of Morris' chair. "Not since the school dance in
+January. And then you didn't ask me for a single dance."
+
+Gordon smiled a trifle embarrassedly. "I--I don't dance very well," he
+said. "I thought it would be kinder to spare you."
+
+"You didn't spare Grace Levering," she laughed.
+
+"Well, Grace----"
+
+"Is awfully nice. I know."
+
+"I didn't mean that! I meant that--she's only thirteen--and----"
+
+"Oh, I'm too old?" Louise opened her eyes very wide. "But I'm only
+fifteen, Gordon. How old are you? Or isn't it polite to ask?"
+
+"Fifteen, too," he laughed. "I guess the reason I danced with Grace so
+much was because I thought she wasn't old enough to be fussy about the
+way I did it. Kind of tough on her, though, wasn't it?"
+
+"Kind of tough on the rest of us, you mean," responded Louise. "You'll
+have to make it up this summer by coming to some of our parties at the
+Point. Will you?"
+
+"Why--yes, if you want me to. But, really and truly, I'm a fierce
+dancer, Louise."
+
+"Is he?" She turned to her brother. Morris shook his head.
+
+"Search me. I know he can bat a ball like sixty, though. I've been
+trying to get him to stay and play some tennis, but he won't. You ask
+him, sis."
+
+"Won't you?" she begged. "The court's just crying to be played on. If
+you will, I'll bring you out the biggest, coldest pitcher of lemonade,
+Gordon, you ever saw!"
+
+"Thanks, but--some other time----"
+
+"That means never!" she sighed. "I don't think you're as nice as you
+used to be. Is he, Morris?"
+
+"He's so full of business these days. Say, sis, father's going to cut up
+the athletic field for building lots. What do you think of that?"
+
+"What for?" she demanded.
+
+"Search me. It leaves the school in a hole, all right."
+
+"How horribly mean!" said Louise. "It was such a nice field, too! I
+don't think he ought to do it, Morris, and I guess I'll tell him so."
+
+"Go ahead!" laughed her brother. "It'll make a lot of difference--I
+don't think! Gordon came around to get me to ask dad to let the fellows
+use the field until he began to cut it up, but I told him that he'd
+better do the asking himself. If I asked he might give orders to build a
+dozen houses on it to-morrow!"
+
+"I know." Louise nodded. "I wish you'd give up the idea of that
+automobile, Morris. Mother doesn't want you to have it, either."
+
+"Just because dad made such a fuss," he grumbled. "She was all right
+before that. I'm going to have it, just the same."
+
+"I wish you wouldn't," she murmured. "Do you think he ought to drive an
+auto, Gordon? Don't you think it's too dangerous?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Gordon. "I've never had much experience with
+automobiles. I suppose, though, that if one is careful----"
+
+"Morris won't be," mourned Louise. "He'll have an accident, kill
+himself, break his arm or something."
+
+"Oh, piffle, sis! I can run an automobile as well as any chap. I've done
+it. When I get the car you'll be tickled to death, and you'll want to be
+riding in it every minute."
+
+Louise shook her head energetically. "No, I shan't, Morris. I'd be
+scared to death. And I think it would be much better for you to wait
+another year or two. Papa won't like it a bit if you take your money out
+of the bank and spend it on an automobile."
+
+"It's my money, and I have a right to do as I please with it," responded
+her brother. "Besides, if he'd kept his word----"
+
+"Oh, Morris, you shouldn't say things like that! Papa never actually
+told you you could have it."
+
+"Well, he as much as told me," muttered Morris. "Anyway, I'm going to
+have it. Stacey would think I was a pretty funny sort if I refused to
+take it after he'd got it for me."
+
+"Maybe he could sell it to someone else," suggested Gordon. "'Most
+everyone is buying the things nowadays. Well, I'll be going, I guess.
+Good-bye. Good-bye, Louise. I'll come over some time and have that
+tennis, Morris, if you'll let me know."
+
+"Come whenever you can, will you? I'm at home most of the time; or I
+shall be until I get my car." And Morris grinned exasperatingly at his
+sister.
+
+"Don't forget that you're to come to the Point some time and dance every
+dance with me," Louise reminded, as she and Morris accompanied Gordon to
+the door. "That's the only apology I'll accept."
+
+"You'll wish you hadn't invited me after the first dance," replied the
+visitor grimly. "But I'll come if you want me to some time. Good-bye."
+
+On his wheel once more, and spinning down the shadow-dappled street, he
+thought, not without a little natural envy, how fine it must be to have
+as much money as the Brents. Morris had spoken of buying a
+six-hundred-dollar automobile in much the same way as Gordon might have
+announced his intention of purchasing a new suit of clothes! And yet, on
+reflection, Morris didn't seem really happy and contented, and never
+had. He always appeared to have a quarrel with someone or something.
+Sometimes it was the teachers at High School, who were imposing on him;
+once it had been the baseball coach, Mr. Farrel, who, according to
+Morris, was keeping him off the team for spite, and now it was with his
+father. It would seem, then, that the possession of much wealth didn't
+always bring contentment. There was Dick Levering, who was not only poor
+but a cripple as well, and who was absolutely the most cheerful and
+contented fellow of all Gordon's acquaintances. It was a bit puzzling,
+Gordon thought, as he whirled into E Street and headed toward the
+business section of town.
+
+Mr. Jonathan Brent's office was in the Clearfield Trust Company's
+Building, opposite the common. Gordon left his wheel against the curb
+and mounted the flight of marble stairs. A clerk took his name
+doubtfully and indicated a chair for him to sit in while he waited Mr.
+Brent's pleasure. As it happened, although the mill president was a very
+busy man, Gordon didn't have to wait long. Almost at once a buzzer
+sounded, the clerk disappeared, returned, and conducted Gordon through a
+door whose ground-glass pane was marked "Private."
+
+Mr. Brent's office looked out across E Street into the elm-shaded
+greenery of the common. An electric fan made a soft and pleasant
+whirring from the top of the big desk which, until Gordon had crossed
+the room, hid Mr. Brent from view. A chair was set at the end of the
+desk and into this, not very confidently, Gordon lowered himself while
+Mr. Brent, without looking up, ran his eye over a letter in his hand.
+
+Jonathan Brent was a small man, small and narrow, with a lean and
+wrinkled face, shrewd but not unkindly, and a pair of gimlet-like,
+blue-gray eyes. His face was clean-shaven and the grizzled brown hair
+had retreated until the top of his head was as bald and shining as the
+white-enameled newel-post at the foot of the Merricks' stairway. His
+mouth was thin and set in a firm, straight line, a line that never
+altered as, presently, he laid down the paper in his hand and raised his
+gaze to Gordon's.
+
+"Well, what do you want, my boy?" he asked, in a quick but not
+unpleasant voice.
+
+"I came to see you about the athletic field, Mr. Brent," responded
+Gordon. "I heard yesterday that you intend to cut it up for building
+lots, sir."
+
+"Quite right. What of it?"
+
+"Well, sir, you see we've been using it for baseball, and some of us are
+getting up a nine to play this summer, and I wondered if you'd let us
+use it until you got ready to--to build on it."
+
+"Oh! I see. What's your name? Herrick?"
+
+"Merrick, sir; Gordon Merrick."
+
+"Ellis Merrick's boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"I know your father. Are you in the High School?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Know my boy?"
+
+"Yes, sir. I--I went to see him this morning. I thought maybe he would
+ask you for me, but--he----"
+
+Gordon floundered, and a tiny smile moved the corners of Mr. Brent's
+straight lips.
+
+"He didn't care to, eh? Well, Merrick, you're welcome to use the field
+as long as you don't interfere with the engineers or workmen. I believe
+they're going to survey there for the street in a week or so."
+
+"Thank you, Mr. Brent."
+
+"All right. I dare say you boys are going to miss that playground."
+
+"Yes, sir, we are. It--it's been a fine place for us."
+
+"Yes. Sorry I can't let you have the use of it longer, but I need the
+ground. I suppose you can find another field without much trouble."
+
+"I think so," agreed Gordon doubtfully.
+
+"You and Morris friends?"
+
+"Yes, sir. That is, we--we know each other pretty well."
+
+"Only pretty well, eh? What's the matter? Don't you like him?"
+
+"Why, yes, sir, but--but we don't see each other much."
+
+"Doesn't he like you?"
+
+"I think so. He seems to."
+
+"Did he say anything to you about an automobile, Merrick?"
+
+"Yes, sir, he mentioned it." Gordon began to wish himself away.
+
+"Ever drive one of the things?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Like to?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I guess so. I think it would be fun to--to have one."
+
+"Why doesn't your father get you one?"
+
+"I don't think he could afford it, and, besides----"
+
+"Yes? Besides?"
+
+"I guess he wouldn't think I was--was old enough to run it."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Fifteen, sir."
+
+"Morris is sixteen. Think your father would let you have one if you were
+a year older and he could afford it?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "I don't believe so, Mr. Brent."
+
+"I don't, either. Well, help yourself to the field, Merrick. Glad to
+have met you. Good day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+THE TEAM ELECTS ITS CAPTAIN
+
+
+There was a full attendance at the organization meeting which assembled
+in the Merricks' front parlor that evening. Besides Gordon himself, Dick
+Lovering, Fudge Shaw, Harry Bryan, who had won his father's consent, and
+Tom Haley, all of whom we have met, there was Lansing White, otherwise
+known as "Lanny," Jack Tappen, Pete Robey, Will Scott, and Curtis
+Wayland. Curtis and Will were inseparable companions. Damon and Pythias
+would have been excellent, if hackneyed, nicknames for the pair. Dick
+had once remarked in his quiet way, when the two chums had appeared arm
+in arm on the ball field: "Where there's a Will there's a Way."
+Thereafter Curtis was called Way, and Dick's pun was handed over to an
+appreciative public in the "Caught-in-the-Corridor" column of _The
+Purple_, the High School monthly. Way and Will were both of an age,
+which was sixteen, both of the same height to a fraction of an inch,
+and, perhaps by reason of having been together ever since they were in
+kindergarten, were so much alike in general appearance, manners, and
+speech that they were always mistaken for brothers and not infrequently
+for twins. Way was a little heavier in build than Will, and had dark
+brown hair, whereas Will's was light. For the rest they were much the
+same, with brown eyes, short noses, and round, freckled faces. Good,
+healthy, jolly, normal boys both.
+
+Pete Robey was fifteen, a lank, dark-eyed fellow, rather diffident and
+quiet. Jack Tappen was only fourteen, but he was big for his years. He
+was not at all diffident. In fact, Jack had a pretty good opinion of
+himself. He was a clever ball player, and, for that matter, did many
+things about as well as the older fellows with whom he associated.
+
+Lansing White, or Lanny, as he was always called, was fifteen. Every one
+who knew him would have assured you earnestly that Lansing White was
+destined for great things. Perhaps they were right. At all events, he
+had the fine faculty of making friends on the instant and holding them.
+There wasn't a kinder-hearted fellow in school, nor one more thoughtful
+of others. If a ballot had been taken for the most popular student,
+Lanny would have won, hands-down, over many a fellow far more prominent
+in school affairs. He caught for the school nine, played a fine game at
+left halfback on the football team, and regularly won his five points in
+each of the sprints at the track meetings with Springdale High School.
+
+In appearance he was rather striking by reason of his hair, which was as
+near the color of ripe flax as hair ever gets, and his eyes which were
+so dark a brown that they looked black. The contrast between light hair
+and dark eyes was rather startling. He was always a little too lean, his
+parents thought, but his leanness was quite healthy and was due,
+probably, to the fact that he was always in training for something.
+
+The nine members of the Clearfield Ball Club sat around the parlor,
+occupying every available chair and couch, and discussed the project
+exhaustively and with enthusiasm. They all agreed that it was the
+bounden duty of someone to humble the pride of those Rutter's Point
+chaps, to whom they had long been in the habit of referring as the Silk
+Stocking Brigade; and they didn't see but what the duty could be
+performed by them as well as by any others. Jack Tappen thought they
+could attend to it a little better than any others, and so declared.
+That point agreed on, they discussed ways and means. Everyone there
+except Fudge and Pete Robey had a High School uniform which it would,
+they decided, be quite permissible to wear. Fudge declared that he would
+buy a uniform, and Pete was sure he could borrow one. Gordon's
+announcement that Dick had been tendered and had accepted the position
+of manager met with acclaim, and Will and Way, in the same breath,
+demanded a speech. Dick declined to address the meeting, contenting
+himself with reminding the turbulent pair that as manager he had the
+power to fine them for misconduct. At which Will and Way, pretending to
+be much alarmed, subsided. It was agreed that every member was to pay
+his own car-fares when the team journeyed from home, and that the
+manager's expenses were to be provided for by an assessment on each of
+one-ninth of the necessary amount. Dick claimed the floor, there to
+state that it would probably not be necessary for the others to provide
+his expenses, and that in any case he would pay his own way unless the
+team journeyed a long distance.
+
+The name of the team was decided on--the Clearfield Baseball Club. Harry
+Bryan was in favor of something with more "snap" to it, something like
+the Clearfield Pirates or the Clearfield Giants, but he was defeated.
+Dick, who had taken the proceedings in hand, then announced that the
+election of a captain was in order, and Tom Haley, Fudge, and Jack
+Tappen nominated Gordon in unison. The others signified approval
+noisily. Gordon, however, insisted on being heard.
+
+"You fellows don't have to make me captain," he protested, "just because
+I started the thing going. It wasn't my idea, anyhow; it was Bert
+Cable's. I'll be captain if you really want me, but I think some of the
+rest of you would be better, and I nominate Tom."
+
+"Nominate all you like," grunted Tom Haley. "I decline."
+
+"I nominate Lanny," said Will Scott.
+
+"Second the nomination!" piped up Way.
+
+"Much obliged, fellows," said Lanny, "but I'd rather not. Let's make
+Gordon captain and not be scared out of it. All in favor make a lot of
+noise!"
+
+There was a lot of noise, a very great deal of noise, and Dick
+laughingly declared Gordon elected. "Speech! Speech!" shouted the
+irrepressible Fudge, beating a tattoo on the hardwood floor with his
+heels.
+
+"Shut up, Fudge! And stop denting the floor with those hob-nailed shoes
+of yours. I saw Mr. Brent this morning, and asked him if we could use
+the field as long as it wasn't wanted for anything else, and he said we
+could. So I propose that if the Point plays us a return game we play on
+our own grounds. Now, about practice. You fellows know we've got to get
+together and have a good lot of real work before we run up against those
+Point fellows. So I say let's have practice every afternoon next week at
+four-thirty. Maybe after next week every other day will do, but we don't
+want to let those silk-sox chaps beat us, and so we've got to practice
+hard. Will all you fellows agree to come to practice every afternoon?
+That doesn't mean Tom, because he's got a lot of work to do, and,
+besides, we don't need him so much. He will come as often as he can. But
+the rest of us ought to get out every day."
+
+"That's right," agreed Jack Tappen. "If we're going into this thing,
+let's go into it with both feet. There's no reason I can see why we
+shouldn't have as good a baseball team as there is in this part of the
+state. We all know the game pretty well----"
+
+"Oh, you right-fielder!" exclaimed Fudge.
+
+"----And most of us have played together this Spring. And with Gordon
+for captain we ought to just everlastingly wipe up the county!"
+
+Loud applause greeted this enthusiastic statement, and Fudge began his
+tattoo again, but was cautioned by a well-aimed pillow which, narrowly
+avoiding a vase on a side table, eclipsed his joyous countenance for an
+instant.
+
+"I guess," said Lanny, "that we can all get out and practice; can't we,
+fellows? In fact, Gordie, it might be a good plan to have it understood
+that any fellow not turning up, without a real, genuine excuse, is to
+pay a fine."
+
+"How much?" demanded Fudge anxiously.
+
+"Half a dollar," suggested Will.
+
+"A quarter," said Jack.
+
+"A quarter's enough, I guess," said Dick. "How about it? Everyone
+agree?"
+
+"Who's going to decide whether the excuse is a good one?" inquired
+Fudge.
+
+"Dick," said Gordon.
+
+Fudge sighed with relief. "All right. Dick's a friend of mine."
+
+"Then Wednesday at four-thirty, fellows," said Gordon, "and bring your
+bats. By the way, there's one thing we've forgotten: We'll have to buy
+balls. Suppose we all chip in a half to start with?"
+
+That was agreed to, and the meeting was served with lemonade and cakes
+and adjourned, everyone departing save Dick, Lanny, and Fudge. These,
+with Gordon, went out to the porch and took possession of the front
+steps. There was a fine big moon riding in the sky, and, since
+Clearfield was economical and did not illuminate the streets in the
+residence districts when the moon was on duty, it had no competition.
+The leafy shadows of the big elm fell across the porch, blue-black,
+trembling as a tiny breeze moved the branches above. Dick leaned against
+a pillar and laid his crutches between his knees, and the others grouped
+about him. Perhaps the refreshments had worked a somnolent effect on
+them, or perhaps the great lopsided moon stared them into silence. At
+all events, nothing was said for a minute or two, even Fudge, usually an
+extremely chatty youth, having for once no observations to offer. It was
+Gordon who finally broke the stillness.
+
+"Some moon," he said dreamily.
+
+"Great!" agreed Lanny. "You can see the man in it plainly to-night."
+
+"Supposing," said Fudge thoughtfully, "supposing you were terribly big,
+miles and miles high, and you had a frightfully huge bat, couldn't you
+get a d-d-dandy swipe at it!"
+
+"You could make a home run, Fudge!" laughed Lanny. "Only you'd have to
+hit pretty quick. Why, if you were tall enough to reach the moon, it
+would be going past you faster than one of Tom's straight ones, Fudge!"
+
+"Quite a bit faster," agreed Gordon. "Still, it would be 'in the
+groove,' and if you took a good swing and got your eye on it you could
+everlastingly bust up the game!"
+
+"I think," replied Fudge, who had literary yearnings, "I'll write a
+story about a giant who did that."
+
+"Well, there are some pretty good hitters among the 'Giants,'" commented
+Dick gravely. Fudge snorted.
+
+"You know wh-wh-what I mean!" he said severely.
+
+"Of course he does," agreed Lanny. "Dick, you oughtn't to poke fun at
+Fudge's great thoughts. Fudge is a budding genius, Fudge is, and if
+you're not careful you'll discourage him. Remember his story about the
+fellow who won the mile race in two minutes and forty-one seconds, Dick?
+That was a peach of a----"
+
+"I didn't!" declared Fudge passionately. "The p-p-printer made a
+mistake! I've told you that a th-th-th-thousand t-t-times! I wrote
+it----"
+
+"Don't spoil it," begged Dick. "It was a much better story the way _The
+Purple_ printed it. Any fellow might run the mile in four-something, but
+to do it under three shows real ability, Fudge. Besides, what's a minute
+or two in a story?"
+
+"Aw, cu-cu-cut it out!" grumbled Fudge. "You f-f-fellows m-m-m-m----"
+
+"You'll never do it, Fudge," said Gordon sympathetically. "I've noticed
+that if you don't make it the first two or three times you----"
+
+"----M-make me tired!" concluded Fudge breathlessly but triumphantly.
+
+"Snappy work!" approved Lanny. "If at first you don't succeed----"
+
+"T-t-try, try again," assisted Gordon. Fudge muttered something both
+unintelligible and uncomplimentary, and Gordon turned to Dick: "How did
+you get on with Mrs. Thingamabob at the Point, Dick?" he asked. "What's
+the kid like?"
+
+"All right. The name is Townsend. They're at the hotel. The boy is
+thirteen and he's--he's a bit spoiled, I guess. There's an older
+brother, too, a fellow about seventeen. He confided to me that I'd have
+a beast of a time with the youngster. His name--the brother's--is Loring
+Townsend. Anybody know him?"
+
+There was no response, and Dick continued:
+
+"He seemed rather a nice chap, big brother did. As for the kid--his name
+is Harold, by the way----"
+
+"Fancy names, what?" said Gordon. "Loring and Harold."
+
+"No fancier than your own," commented Fudge, still a trifle disgruntled.
+"Gordon! Gee, that's a sweet name for a grown-up fellow!"
+
+"Not as sweet as Fudge, though," answered Gordon.
+
+"That's not my n-n-name!"
+
+"There, you're getting him excited again," said Lanny soothingly. "Move
+out of the moonlight, Fudge. It's affecting your disposition. What about
+the kid, Dick? Is he the one you're going to tutor?"
+
+"Yes; he's entered for Rifle Point in the Autumn, and he's way behind on
+two or three things. The worst of it is that he doesn't seem very
+enthusiastic about catching up. I guess I'll have my work cut out for
+me. The big brother told me that I was to take no nonsense from young
+Harold, and that he'd back me up, but--I don't know. I guess Mrs.
+Townsend wouldn't approve of harsh measures. She's trying her best to
+spoil the kid, I'd say. I'm to go over five mornings a week, beginning
+Monday."
+
+"I'm glad I don't have to do it," commented Gordon. "I'll bet the kid is
+a young terror, Dick."
+
+Dick smiled. "He is--something of the sort. But I guess he and I will
+get on all right after a while. And if he's got it in him to learn, he
+will learn," Dick added grimly. "That is, unless his mother----"
+
+"She's bound to," said Lanny. "They all do. Inside of a week she'll be
+telling you that you're working her darling too hard."
+
+"How do you know so much about it?" challenged Fudge. "Anyone would
+think you were a hundred years old!"
+
+Lanny laughed. "I've kept my eyes open, Fudge, sweet child. Mothers are
+pretty fine institutions; no fellow should be without one; but they are
+most of them much too easy on us. And you know that as well as I do."
+
+"Mine isn't," murmured Fudge regretfully. "She's worse than my father at
+making me do things!"
+
+"Oh, well, you're an exceptional case," said Gordon gently. "When a
+fellow shows criminal tendencies like yours, Fudge----"
+
+"Yes, writing stories at your age! You ought to be ashamed!" Lanny spoke
+with deep severity. Fudge only chuckled.
+
+"Some day," he announced gleefully, "I'm going to write a story and put
+you fellows all into it. Then you'll wish you hadn't been so fresh. The
+only thing is"--and his voice fell disconsolately--"I don't suppose, if
+I told what I know about you, I could get it published!"
+
+"Deal gently with us, Fudge," begged Dick humbly. "Remember, we used to
+be friends. I must be getting along, fellows. Coming over to-morrow,
+Gordie?"
+
+"Yes, I'll drop around in the morning. We've got to get busy and send
+out some challenges. Who can we get to play with us, Lanny, besides
+Lesterville and, maybe, Plymouth?"
+
+"I don't know. I think there are plenty of teams, though, if we can find
+them."
+
+"They have a team at Logan," said Fudge, "but I guess they're older than
+we are."
+
+"What do we care?" asked Gordon. "Logan's a good way off, though, and I
+suppose it would cost like the dickens to get there."
+
+"Make them come over here," suggested Lanny.
+
+[Illustration: "'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge"]
+
+"Yes, but then they'd want their expenses guaranteed."
+
+"Look here," observed Dick, "why couldn't we charge admission to some of
+the games after we got started? I dare say quite a lot of folks would
+pay a quarter to see a good game."
+
+"They might," conceded Lanny. "We could try it, anyway. If we could get,
+say, a hundred admissions, we'd have twenty-five dollars, and then we
+could pay the expenses of any team around here. That's a bully idea,
+Dick. As a manager you're all to the good."
+
+"I thank you," replied Dick, setting his crutches under his arms. "We'll
+talk it over to-morrow. You come over, too, Lanny; and Fudge if he is
+not in the throes of literary composition."
+
+"I'll walk around with you," said Lanny. "It's too bully a night to go
+to bed, anyway. Good-night, fellows."
+
+"Good-night," responded Gordon and Fudge. "Good-night, Dick."
+
+They watched the two as long as they were in sight in the white radiance
+of the moon, and then:
+
+"They're two of the finest fellows in the world," said Fudge warmly.
+"And wouldn't Dick be a wonder if he was like the rest of us, Gordie?"
+
+"Y--yes," replied Gordon thoughtfully, "only--sometimes I think that
+maybe if Dick was like the rest of us, Fudge, he might not be the
+splendid chap he is."
+
+Fudge objected to that, but afterward, returning home by way of the back
+fence, he thought it over. "I suppose," he told himself, as he paused on
+his porch for a final look at the moon, "what Gordie means is that
+tribulations ennoble our characters." That struck him as a fine phrase,
+and he made a mental note of it. Still later, as he lay in bed with the
+moonlight illumining his room, he began to plan a perfectly corking
+story around the phrase, with Dick as the hero. Unfortunately, perhaps,
+for American literature, sleep claimed him before he had completed it.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+DICK VISITS THE POINT
+
+
+On Wednesday the Clearfield Baseball Club reported for practice. There
+was a full attendance, with the exception of Tom Haley. Gordon confined
+the hour's work to fielding, however, and Tom's absence was not felt.
+Fudge had purchased a brand-new High School uniform and Pete Robey had
+been lucky enough to borrow one from a boy who had played on the team
+several years before. As the shirts and caps held only the letter "C,"
+there was nothing misrepresentative about the gray uniforms. Of course,
+the fact that the C was purple and that the stockings were of the same
+royal hue might lead one to mistake the team for the High School nine;
+but Gordon had consulted the principal, Mr. Grayson, in the matter, and
+Mr. Grayson had given it as his opinion that, so long as they did not
+pretend to be the High School team, there could be no harm in wearing
+their school uniforms.
+
+Most of the fellows had not played since the final game with Springdale,
+nearly a month before, and were consequently rather out of practice.
+Muscles were stiff, and that first day's work only produced soreness.
+But by Saturday the fellows were pegging the ball around with their
+old-time ginger and running and sliding with their accustomed agility.
+Tom pitched to the batters on Friday, and the result proved that batting
+practice was far from being a waste of time. Even Gordon, who had headed
+the batting list that Spring, found that his eye was bad and that he
+could connect with Tom's easy offerings scarcely better than the
+tail-enders.
+
+Fudge plunged into the business with heart and soul, determined to make
+himself not only a useful member of the outfield but a regular Ty Cobb
+or Home-Run Baker at the bat. I regret to have to state that for some
+time Fudge's fielding was not at all spectacular and that he never--or
+at least never that summer--threatened to dispute Mr. Cobb's supremacy
+with the stick. But they didn't expect great things from Fudge; and as
+time went on he developed a very clever judgment in the matter of fly
+balls and even became able to throw with some accuracy to the infield.
+
+Meanwhile, Dick had entered into correspondence with some half dozen
+baseball teams in not too distant towns, and already a game had been
+scheduled with Lesterville, who, to Dick's surprise and satisfaction,
+offered to pay Clearfield's expenses if it would visit Lesterville.
+Manager Lovering promptly agreed and the date of the contest was fixed
+for the second Saturday following the Rutter's Point game. On Friday
+morning Dick and Caspar Billings again met and completed arrangements.
+Caspar, a boy of Dick's own age, took a great liking to the Clearfield
+manager, and insisted on his staying to luncheon with him on that
+occasion, and it was on the Billings' veranda, within a stone's throw of
+the waves, that the two talked it all over.
+
+Caspar was a fine-looking youth, rather large but well conditioned, with
+dark hair and eyes, a ready smile, and a jovial laugh. He lived in New
+York, but had been spending his summers at the Point for several years.
+Dick met Caspar's mother and two older sisters at luncheon, but Mr.
+Billings was not present, and Dick gathered that he remained in New York
+save for an occasional week-end. When Caspar explained that Dick was
+tutoring Harold Townsend, Mrs. Billings shook her head pessimistically.
+
+"I'm afraid," she said, "you'll find him rather difficult. He isn't
+exactly what I'd call a nice-dispositioned boy."
+
+"Come, mother, don't discourage Lovering at the start," laughed Caspar.
+"We all know that the kid's horribly spoiled, but then Lovering isn't
+going to be a governess to him!"
+
+"I don't want to discourage him, dear, but I thought it only right he
+should know that--well, if he isn't very successful, it won't be
+altogether his fault. Mrs. Townsend is a dear woman, but I can't admire
+the way she has brought up that boy."
+
+"His brother has already warned me," replied Dick, with a smile. "I'm
+prepared for the worst. So far, Harold has behaved very well. He doesn't
+like to study much, but he hasn't--well, lain down in the shafts yet."
+
+"He will, though," laughed Caspar. "And if you don't keep a tight rein
+he will bust the shafts! That brother of his is a nice chap, though. By
+the way, he's going to play first base for us, Lovering."
+
+"Who is your pitcher?" asked Dick.
+
+"I--we aren't quite sure. We expect it will be Mason, but he hasn't come
+yet. If he doesn't show up we'll have to find some one else. You know
+Morris Brent, don't you? He's on the team, too. Then there's Pink
+Northrop and Jim House and Gilbert Chase and Charlie Leary and--let's
+see; oh, yes, Billy Houghton. And Mason, if he gets here in time. How
+many's that? Never mind. I dare say I've forgotten one or two. I guess
+we'll average a year or so older than you chaps, but you have been
+playing together, and I guess that will equalize things. That field over
+behind the hotel isn't the best in the world, but it's not bad in the
+infield."
+
+"What position do you play?" asked Dick, when they were back on the
+veranda.
+
+"Third usually. I'm not particular. I'm not much of a player, but I get
+a lot of fun out of it. I've tried two years running for the team at
+school and haven't made it yet."
+
+"What school do you go to?"
+
+"St. George's. We turn out some pretty fair ball teams there. I'm going
+to try again next Spring. It's my last year, and if I don't make it then
+I'm a goner."
+
+"I suppose you're going to college, though?"
+
+"No; my father doesn't want me to. Says he needs me with him in the
+office. I don't mind--very much. Of course, I'd like to go; 'most every
+fellow I know at school is going. Maybe father will change his mind
+before Spring. What about you, Lovering?"
+
+"College?" Dick shook his head. "I'd like it mighty well, too, but it
+costs too much. Funny how fellows who can go don't care about it.
+There's Morris Brent. His father's crazy to have him go to college. He
+tells Morris he can have his pick of them all. Morris doesn't want to go
+a bit; and he won't, I guess, if he doesn't brace up."
+
+"Exams, you mean?"
+
+Dick nodded. "Morris is always in trouble with his studies."
+
+"His father's a bit of a Tartar, isn't he?" asked Caspar. "I've only met
+him once or twice, but he seemed sort of cross-grained."
+
+"I don't know. I know he and Morris are always at outs about one thing
+or another. Just now, I hear, it's an automobile. Morris wants one, and
+his father says he can't have it. Do you know him very well?"
+
+"Not very. We've seen each other quite a little for several summers, but
+we aren't awfully chummy. I don't quite----" Caspar paused, with a
+puzzled frown. "If he'd forget that his father has a lot of money, he'd
+get on better with fellows here. I like his sister, though. She's an
+awfully nice, jolly kid. And his mother's mighty nice, too."
+
+"Yes, so I've heard. I don't know them. Well, I must get along. We will
+be over here in time to begin the game at three on Saturday, Billings.
+I'll talk to Gordon about the umpire, but I'm pretty sure the chap you
+speak of will be satisfactory to us. Thanks for being so kind. Will you
+say good-bye to your mother and sisters, please?"
+
+"That's all right," replied Caspar warmly. "Hope you'll come around
+often, Lovering. See you Wednesday, anyway." He watched Dick's deft
+manipulation of his crutches anxiously. Finally: "I say, it's a long
+walk to the trolley. Let me take you over, won't you? We have a sort of
+a horse and cart here, and it won't take a minute to hitch up."
+
+"No, thanks; I like to walk," replied Dick, with a smile. "Maybe you
+wouldn't call it walking, though; perhaps I ought to say that I like to
+'crutch.'"
+
+"Call it what you like," responded Caspar heartily, "you certainly do it
+mighty well, Lovering!"
+
+Dick reached the trolley station in ample time for the two-forty-five
+car back to Clearfield, and on the way his thoughts dwelt largely on
+Master Harold Townsend. Master Harold was a good deal of a problem. So
+far, as Dick had told Mrs. Billings, the boy had behaved very decently,
+but Dick knew quite well that it was principally because he was still in
+some awe of his tutor. That awe would soon wear off, for there wasn't
+enough difference in the ages of the two to allow Dick to keep the upper
+hand very long. Then, as Dick realized, there'd be trouble.
+Unfortunately, he could not, he felt, count on the boy's mother to back
+him up, for that lady was lamentably weak where her youngest son was
+concerned. Of course, Dick might keep on drawing his wages all summer
+and nothing would be said, but he didn't intend to do that unless he was
+earning them. And it wasn't going to be an easy matter to earn them as
+soon as Harold got over his present diffidence and the slight enthusiasm
+with which Dick had managed to imbue him. The money meant a good deal to
+Dick, and he hated to think of losing it, but one thing was certain: As
+soon as he failed to make progress with Harold he would quit. Perhaps he
+would find another pupil, he reflected more hopefully, although so far
+only Mrs. Townsend had replied to his application.
+
+Just then, his gaze wandering along the flying landscape, he caught
+sight of a small blue runabout automobile trying desperately to keep
+pace with the trolley car. The road was a good three hundred yards away,
+and it was not possible to make out with any certainty the identity of
+the lone figure in the blue car, but Dick was pretty sure that the
+daring driver was Morris Brent. If so, he had, then, overruled his
+father in the matter, thought Dick. It wasn't like Mr. Brent to change
+his mind, either. In any case, and whoever was driving the runabout,
+that light vehicle was plunging along the none too smooth road at a pace
+that brought Dick's heart into his mouth more than once and attracted
+the concerned attention of all the occupants of the trolley car. Several
+times, as it seemed, the runabout narrowly avoided collision with the
+white fence which ran beside the dirt road, and Dick was heartily
+relieved when, presently, a team approached from the direction of
+Clearfield, and the driver of the automobile, recognizing the futility
+of trying to pass at his present reckless speed, slowed down and was
+lost to sight from the car.
+
+Dick mentioned the incident to Gordon at practice that afternoon, but
+Gordon was unable to say whether Morris had bought the automobile he had
+spoken of. "He said he was going to, though, whether his father wanted
+him to or not. Said he had some money of his own and that Stacey, the
+agent on Oak Street, would wait for the rest. If his father finds it
+out, he will be hopping mad, I'll bet."
+
+"It won't take him long to find it out," replied Dick dryly. "At least
+two dozen persons saw him to-day. Someone's pretty sure to speak of it.
+The idiot was driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!"
+
+"That's the way Morris would drive," said Gordon. "By the way, there's a
+meeting of the Athletic Committee called for next Saturday night in
+Assembly Hall to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says he
+doesn't see how we're going to get a field without paying for it, and we
+haven't any money to do that."
+
+"It's tough luck," replied Dick. "Have they any field in sight?"
+
+"I don't think so. Will said something about a piece of land on the way
+to the Point, near the picnic ground. Do you know what he means?"
+
+"No; but I guess there's plenty of land there. I don't believe it's very
+level. I suppose beggars mustn't be choosers, however."
+
+"I think it's mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that field away from us!"
+said Gordon scowlingly.
+
+"Did you tell him so the other day?" Dick asked innocently.
+
+Gordon laughed. "No, I forgot to! Come on and let's get these fellows
+started. Tom, will you pitch at the net for a while?"
+
+"Shall I tell Billings it's all right about the umpire, Gordie?"
+
+"Yes; we don't care who umps as long as he knows how. If they play us
+again, we'll have the choice then. Now then, fellows, get your batting
+eyes! Don't be too easy with us, Tom. Speed 'em over, old scout!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+CLEARFIELD PLAYS THE POINT
+
+
+Clearfield boarded the two-fifteen trolley car on Wednesday and set out
+for Rutter's Point in high spirits. They had intended taking the
+two-o'clock car, but Harry Bryan and Fudge had failed to arrive at the
+starting point on time. Harry claimed business affairs as his reason for
+tardiness, but Fudge's excuse was both vague and involved, and Gordon
+informed him that the next time he failed to be on time he would be left
+behind. Fudge smiled dreamily.
+
+The team in their gray uniforms with purple stockings presented a very
+natty appearance. To be sure, some of the stockings were pretty well
+faded and several of the suits were somewhat stained, but on the whole
+the players passed muster very well. They took possession of the first
+two seats on the car and had a very happy and fairly noisy time of it.
+Dick and Gordon got their heads together over the batting order and
+rearranged it for the third time. When it was finally fixed to their
+liking it was as follows: Bryan, 2b; Scott, 3b; Merrick, 1b; Wayland, l.
+f.; Tappen, r. f.; Robey, ss.; White, c.; Shaw, c. f.; Haley, p.
+
+"We'll try it that way," said Gordon, "and see how it goes. Maybe we'd
+better put Jack after me, though. What do you think?"
+
+"We had it that way, and you thought we'd better change it," answered
+Dick patiently.
+
+"I know, but--but I guess he ought to follow me, Dick."
+
+"Look here," said Dick, with a smile, "who's manager here?"
+
+"You are," replied Gordon, a trifle sheepishly.
+
+"All right. I just wanted to know."
+
+"Then--you think----"
+
+"I think the batting order is going to stay just as it is!"
+
+They reached the field shortly after half-past two, and found a handful
+of spectators from the hotel and cottages already seated in the shade of
+the little row of trees behind the third-base line. The Point team was
+not in evidence, and Gordon quickly distributed his players over the
+diamond and started warming up. Five minutes later the rival team
+appeared by ones and twos, and Caspar Billings sought Dick where he was
+watching the performance of his charges. When Gordon came in from first
+base, Dick introduced the rival captains and they shook hands. Other
+introductions followed, but several of the Point fellows were already
+known to the Clearfield members. Clearfield gave up the diamond to her
+opponents at ten minutes to three, and watched their practice. The Point
+team was not in agreement, it appeared, as to a uniform. Every player
+wore togs of some sort, but at least a half-dozen schools were
+represented, and there were stockings of about every color in the solar
+spectrum in evidence. The umpire was named Vokes, and was a college man
+who was serving as a clerk at the hotel. Gordon decided that while Mr.
+Vokes' sympathies might be with Rutter's Point he was not the sort to
+let them affect his decisions. Also, Gordon reflected, unless he was
+very much mistaken, Vokes knew baseball from A to Z. As it turned out,
+Gordon was not mistaken, and Mr. Vokes' umpiring was perhaps the most
+perfect feature of that far from perfect contest.
+
+Clearfield, as the visiting team, went to bat first. Dick, who had been
+given the Point batting list by a youth who was to score for the home
+team, was relieved to find that Mason was not set down as a pitcher.
+Dick didn't know a thing about Mason, but he somehow had got the
+impression that Mason was something a bit unusual. Evidently he had not
+arrived in time for to-day's game. The pitcher whom the Point presented
+was named Porter. He looked capable and wore a Lawrenceville cap with
+what Dick took to be the second team insignia over the visor.
+
+The Point team averaged perhaps a year and a half more than the visiting
+nine, and was almost entirely composed of players from well-known
+preparatory schools. As, however, they had never performed together
+before as a team, save in one or two desultory practice games with a
+nine made up of hotel employees, Dick had hopes of taking their measure
+to-day.
+
+Some seventy or eighty onlookers were gathered together on the grass
+behind the third base line, prepared to root for the Pointers, when
+Porter delivered the first ball to Harry Bryan. It was a pretty hot
+afternoon, for what breeze there was came from the landward side of the
+sun-smitten field. Two settees had been placed on the first-base side of
+the plate for the accommodation of the visitors, and here Dick and the
+others sat in the full glare of the afternoon sun, Dick perspiring over
+his score book and the rest watching interestedly the behavior of the
+rival pitcher. The field was fairly level about the infield, but further
+out it rolled a good deal and was covered with rough, bunchy grass.
+
+Porter disposed of Harry Bryan without trouble, and Will Scott took his
+place at the plate. Will beat out a slow grounder to shortstop and went
+to second on Gordon's bunt down third base line. But Gordon was out at
+first and Curtis Wayland let the third strike get by him.
+
+Rutter's Point led off with a clean two-base hit by Caspar Billings and
+followed it with a neat sacrifice bunt that placed the captain on third.
+But he died there a few minutes later, for Tom Haley struck out Morris
+Brent easily and made the next man pop up a fly to Pete Robey.
+
+The second inning passed without a score, but in the first of the third,
+after Tom Haley had struck out, Harry Bryan drove a long fly into right
+field and reached second when the fielder misjudged it. Will Scott
+walked and Gordon hit clean past third, Harry scoring the first run and
+leaving third and second occupied. Way went out, second to first. Jack
+Tappen put himself in a hole and then emerged brilliantly with a smash
+that was too hot for the pitcher. Will scored and Jack reached first
+safely. With Gordon on third, Jack tried a steal. To his surprise the
+Point catcher slammed the ball down to shortstop and Jack was caught a
+yard away from base. Gordon scored too late.
+
+But with a lead of two runs things looked bright for Clearfield. The
+Point again failed to cross the platter, although Loring Townsend got as
+far as second. Tom's shoots were too much for the home team. Neither
+side scored in the fourth. When the first half of the fifth began Pete
+Robey was up, and Pete, contrary to expectations, delivered a scratch
+hit and reached the first bag. Lanny flied out to left fielder and Pete
+reached second ahead of the throw-in. Fudge went out on strikes and,
+with Tom Haley up, the inning seemed over. But Tom made his one hit of
+the game, a Texas Leaguer that fell safely behind first baseman, and
+Pete legged it for the plate and arose from the dust triumphant with a
+tally. Tom got to second on the throw to the plate, but Harry was out,
+third baseman to first.
+
+So far Clearfield had played a clean game in the field, but in the last
+of the fifth luck deserted her. A hard smash down the first base line
+put a runner on second. A slow hit to Will Scott should have been an
+easy out, but Will booted the ball and the runner was safe. The next man
+went out on a foul to Gordon, but the following batsman cracked a liner
+between Peter and Harry and the Point scored its first run. With a man
+on third, Lanny declined to throw to second and the runner on first
+worked an easy steal. Then a batsman found one of Tom's straight ones
+and sent it into short center. Fudge made a fine running catch, but the
+best he could do was to field the ball to Harry and Harry's throw to the
+plate was too late to keep the Point from tying the score. Tom settled
+down then and struck out the next batter and the inning was over, with
+the score three to two.
+
+The spectators warmed up then and there was plenty of noise during the
+rest of the game. The sixth inning was uneventful, although both sides
+got men on bases. The Point pitcher was by no means remarkable, and, as
+Gordon complained, his deliveries would have been easy for Clearfield
+had the latter's batsmen been in any sort of condition. As it was,
+though, they found him puzzling when hits meant runs and by the end of
+the sixth he had seven strike-outs to his credit. It was during the last
+half of that inning that a small youth detached himself from the group
+of spectators across the field and walked around to the Clearfield bench
+and seated himself beside Dick. He was a good-looking youngster, as
+brown as a berry, with a pair of big and rather impudent gray eyes.
+
+"Hello," he said.
+
+"Hello," responded Dick, glancing up from his score. "How are you
+to-day, Harold?"
+
+"Fine and dandy," replied that youth easily. "Keeping score?"
+
+"Yes," answered Dick, crediting Harry Bryan with an assist and Gordon
+with a put-out and penciling the mystic characters "2-1 1" in the square
+opposite Pink Northrop's name. "Enjoying the game, Harold?"
+
+Harold Townsend yawned. "I guess so. We're going to beat you fellows."
+
+"Think so?" asked Dick amiably.
+
+"Sure thing. Our pitcher's just getting good now. Bede Porter never
+begins to pitch till the middle of the game. He will have you fellows
+eating out of his hand pretty soon."
+
+"Well, he's pitched a pretty good game so far. Hello!" Dick was gazing
+in surprise at the boy beside him. "What have you done to your hair?"
+
+Harold grinned. "Had it clipped. Mother's so angry she can't see
+straight. She said I wasn't to, but I went down to the barber shop this
+morning before breakfast. Gee, it's fine and cool!"
+
+"Hardly the right thing to do, though, was it?"
+
+"Oh, she'll get over it. Other fellows have their heads clipped in
+summer, don't they?"
+
+Dick evaded the question. "How are you getting on with your lessons?" he
+asked. "Going to be all ready for me Monday morning?"
+
+"I guess so," replied Harold without enthusiasm. "Who's the fellow
+catching for your team, Lovering?"
+
+"Lansing White."
+
+"Gee, that's a good name for him, White. He's a regular tow-head, isn't
+he?"
+
+"Is he? He's a fine chap, though."
+
+"He don't catch as well as Billy Houghton. Look at the way Gil Chase
+stole on him last inning. Say, you keep score dandy, don't you? Isn't it
+hard?"
+
+"Not very, when you're used to it. Would you like to learn how?"
+
+"No, I can do it well enough. It's too much trouble, anyhow. I'd rather
+play. My brother's the best player on our team."
+
+"Better than Caspar Billings?" asked Dick idly.
+
+"Aw, go on! He can't play! Why, Loring's been first baseman on his
+school team for two years. He could be captain if he wanted to."
+
+"That's very nice," said Dick. "Now you'd better scoot along and make
+room for the fellows. That's three out. I'll see you Monday, Harold."
+
+"All right. Don't come if it's too much trouble," replied the boy with a
+grin. "I shan't mind."
+
+"That your pupil?" asked Lanny, sinking on to the bench beside Dick.
+"Looks like a fresh kid."
+
+"He is, rather," replied Dick dryly. "Will, you'd better play further
+in. That fellow House has laid three bunts down the base line and made
+them good twice. You're up, Jack. Pete on deck. Let's have a couple of
+runs this inning, fellows."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE BLUE RUNABOUT
+
+
+But although Jack Tappen drove out a two-bagger over shortstop's head
+and Pete Robey got safely to first on an error by the third baseman, the
+next three players went out in order, Lanny on a foul that was pulled
+down by third baseman, Fudge on strikes and Tom Haley on a weak effort
+to second baseman.
+
+Encouraged by the valiant cheers of its supporters, the Point went to
+work in its half of the seventh in a very business-like way. Townsend
+beat out a bunt in front of base, Morris Brent hit safely into short
+left field, advancing Townsend, and Gil Chase sent a hot one through the
+pitcher's box which Tom couldn't handle. With the bases full, things
+looked bad for Clearfield. Tom knocked down House's drive, however, held
+Townsend at third, and worked the first out. Then Leary, after spoiling
+three good ones, fouled out to Lanny, and Clearfield breathed easier.
+But Pink Northrop, although a tail-ender on the batting list, came
+through with a hit that brought shrieks of delight from the Point
+sympathizers and sent two runs across. Billy Houghton trickled a slow
+bunt toward first and the man on third tried for the plate. But Gordon,
+running in fast, got the ball to Lanny ahead of the runner and the side
+was out.
+
+"You're up, Harry," announced Dick. "There's a fine opening for a bright
+young man between third and short. See what you can do."
+
+"I'll try it, but I'm batting pretty punk," replied Harry doubtfully.
+"What's the matter with a bunt, Dick?"
+
+"Nothing doing, Harry. Hit it out. Get to first and try a hit-and-run
+with Will."
+
+But Harry's effort was a weak grounder that bounded nicely into
+shortstop's hands and there was one out. Gordon, behind first, looked
+worried as Will faced the pitcher. But, "Pick out a good one, Will," he
+called cheerfully. "He hasn't much on it."
+
+Will, profiting by the advice, sought to select one to his liking and
+Porter very soon found himself in a hole. The umpire didn't like
+Porter's offerings any better than Will and after six deliveries Will
+walked to first.
+
+"That's the stuff!" cried Jack Tappen, relieving Gordon on the coaching
+line. "He's all in! Whale it out, Gordon! Here we go, fellows!"
+
+Gordon swung viciously at the first ball across and the third baseman
+stepped cautiously back. Then came a wide one that Gordon disdained. The
+next was likewise a ball by a narrow margin. At first Will was dancing
+back and forth and Jack was coaching at the top of his lungs, while from
+behind third Lanny was offering his budget of advice and comment. Porter
+wound up again, Will started for second and Gordon swung his bat. There
+was a _crack_ as ball and bat met, and Will, nearing second, saw Lanny's
+entreating gestures and never paused in his stride.
+
+Out in center field the ball was bounding along the turf and Gordon was
+already rounding first. Luck helped Clearfield then, for just as center
+fielder slackened his pace to get the ball the latter struck against a
+tuft of the coarse grass in front of him and bounded erratically aside.
+At third Lanny waved Will on to the plate. Gordon, pausing a few yards
+past first, took up his running again while the center fielder turned
+and raced back for the rolling ball. When he reached it Gordon was
+sliding to second in a cloud of dust and Will was halfway to the plate.
+The fielder, Jim House, made a beautiful throw, but Will beat it, and
+the best the catcher could do was to hold Gordon on second.
+
+On the Clearfield bench the purple-hosed players cheered and cavorted,
+while on the shady side of the diamond a strange silence held. Way
+tapped the base impatiently with his favorite bat and Harry implored him
+to hit it out. Porter looked nervous for the first time.
+
+"He's up in the air!" shrieked Harry. "Wait for your base, Way. You
+don't have to hit it! He'll pass you! Here we go! Here we go! Here----"
+
+Harry paused only because Way had picked out the first ball offered him
+and had banged it across to shortstop. Gordon scurried to third and Way
+raced toward first. Shortstop got the ball on a low bound, cast a
+hurried look toward third and pelted it across to first. But the throw
+was poor and although first baseman got it he dropped it the next
+instant and the umpire spread his hands wide.
+
+"Watch home!" implored the catcher. But Gordon was taking no chances
+with only one out and contented himself with dancing up the base line a
+few yards to draw the throw. The ball went back to pitcher and pitcher
+and catcher met and held a conference. Gordon spoke to Lanny and Lanny
+nodded.
+
+"Well, I guess we've got them guessing, Harry," he called across.
+
+"Here's where we break it up, fellows!" responded Harry. "On your toes,
+Way! Here we go!"
+
+Porter glanced over his infield, tugged at his cap, hitched his
+trousers, studied the catcher's signal and wound up. But the throw was
+to first and Way was nearly caught napping. Twice more Porter tried to
+clear that base, and then, anticipating a steal, threw out to the
+catcher. But Way hugged first and only grinned, while the umpire
+announced "One ball!" Then a curve went over the corner of the plate and
+Jack Tappen had a strike on him. The Point infield was playing close and
+Jack knew that a bunt would not help any. He let the second strike go
+by, a deceptive drop, and then came the signal from Harry.
+
+"Make it be good, Jack!" called Harry. "Here we go! Here we go!"
+
+Porter wound up again and Way started for second. It was now or never
+for Jack and desperately he glued his eye to the oncoming sphere, swung
+and felt the pleasant tingle that announced that he had hit it! Then he
+was racing for the base. Shortstop had the ball a dozen feet back of the
+base line. Second baseman ran to cover that bag. Perhaps he thought a
+throw to the plate would fail to head off the speeding runner from
+third, or perhaps he had some idea of starting a double play. At all
+events, Chase tossed the ball quickly toward second. It reached there
+simultaneously with second baseman and Way. Second baseman made a grab
+for it and got it, but at that instant Way, sliding into the bag
+feet-foremost, collided with the defender of the sack and the ball
+trickled away in the dust. Gordon slid across the plate, Way was safe at
+second and Jack was grinning from first!
+
+That misadventure was the Point's undoing. Porter went to pieces then
+and there. Pete hit a liner that sent in Way, put Jack on third and
+himself on second; Lanny, enjoined to wait for his base, stood idle
+while the pitcher slammed four balls past him, and then, with the bases
+full, and one out, Fudge, with the score two strikes and two balls,
+resisted the temptation to swing and was presented with his base. Jack
+was forced across for the fourth tally.
+
+Tom, eager to add his mite to the slaughter, hit a beautiful drive
+toward left field and the runners started around. But Caspar Billings
+performed the impossible. Although the ball was at least a yard over his
+head, he knocked it down with his right, spoiling what was intended for
+a two-bagger, and sped it to the plate ten feet in front of Pete, who,
+with the possible exception of Caspar himself, was the most surprised
+youth on the field. Back flew the ball to third, but Lanny had luck with
+him and somehow managed to slide into the bag ahead of Caspar's
+descending arm.
+
+Encouraged, Rutter's Point set about getting the third out, and Porter
+settled down to deceive Harry Bryan. But Harry, realizing that in all
+probability this would be his last time at bat, and seeing what a fine
+opportunity was presented him to write his name on the annals of fame,
+was cautious and watchful. Porter worked a low ball over for a strike,
+followed it with a ball wide of the plate, coaxed him with a slow one
+that failed to entice Harry or please the umpire and then tried to sneak
+a fast one across in the groove. But Harry saw it coming, laid all his
+strength along that slender piece of ash he held and swung! And when the
+excitement was over three more runs had been piled on to Clearfield's
+score and Harry was seated, breathless but happy, on third, having lined
+out a two-base hit into deep center and taken third on the throw to the
+plate. That ended it, however, for Will Scott popped a foul into first
+baseman's hands.
+
+With the score ten to four against them the Rutter's Point team was
+discouraged and beaten. It tried half-heartedly to get a man around in
+the last of the eighth and managed to stop Clearfield in the first of
+the ninth, although some poor base-running on the part of the visitors
+did more than any efforts of the home team to save the plate in that
+inning. And in the last half of the ninth the Point actually got a
+runner as far as third. But there he stayed while the next two batsmen
+fell before Tom's slants and a third sent up a short fly that settled
+comfortably into Pete Robey's hands and brought the game to an end.
+
+Clearfield cheered Rutter's Point, in the intoxication of the moment
+using the regular High School slogan, and Rutter's Point cheered
+Clearfield and bats were gathered up and the two teams started off the
+field. They came together at the corner of the hotel and Caspar called
+to Dick: "We'd like to try you again, Lovering, some time." And Dick
+answered: "Glad to play you, Billings. We'll talk it over soon."
+
+Morris Brent laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pulled him aside. "Say,
+Gordon, I've got my car here. Come on back with me, won't you? I'll get
+you home quicker than the trolley will do it."
+
+"Why, much obliged," murmured Gordon, "but----"
+
+"Oh, come on! I want you to see how dandy it runs."
+
+"I'm not insured," laughed Gordon, trying to pull away from the other's
+detaining hand.
+
+"Oh, pshaw! I won't dump you out. I'll run as slow as you like. Come
+on."
+
+"Well, all right," agreed Gordon without enthusiasm. "Oh, Dick! I'm
+going back with Morris. I'll see you this evening."
+
+Morris led the way toward the pier, where the Clearfield road joined the
+shore avenue, and Gordon saw the blue runabout standing at the side of
+the road. It was a very attractive little car, in spite of the layer of
+gray dust which sullied the shining varnish.
+
+"Isn't she a peach?" demanded Morris. "And go! Say, I went nearly forty
+miles an hour in her the other day!"
+
+"Yes," replied Gordon dryly, "Dick saw you, I guess. He said you were
+racing with the trolley."
+
+"Oh, shucks, not that time! I was only doing about thirty then. I had to
+slow down for a team. You ought to have seen me the other morning on the
+Springdale road. That was going some, I tell you!"
+
+"Well, if you try any thirty mile stunt to-day I'll fall out the back of
+it," warned Gordon.
+
+"I won't. Wait till I start it. All right. In you get. Pretty
+comfortable seats, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes," agreed Gordon as the runabout swung around in the dusty road and
+headed toward Clearfield at a moderate speed. "Does--does your father
+know about it?"
+
+Morris chuckled. "No, not yet. I don't want him to, but I suppose some
+busybody will tell him."
+
+"Bound to," said Gordon. "Especially if you do such spectacular stunts
+as you did the other day. Folks on the trolley, Dick said, expected to
+see you go off the road any minute."
+
+"Pooh! Folks who don't drive autos always think that. Why, you're just
+as safe in this thing as you are in the trolley. Safer, I guess.
+Remember when the car jumped the track year before last and killed six
+or seven people?"
+
+"Yes, but I'll take my chances with the trolley," replied Gordon. "There
+it goes now. I wonder if the fellows caught it."
+
+"Sure. Anyway, we'll soon see. I can catch that trolley as though it was
+standing still!" Morris pulled down his throttle and the little car
+bounded forward with a deeper hum of its engine. Gordon grasped the arm
+of the seat beside him.
+
+"Never mind!" he exclaimed. "I don't care whether they did or not,
+Morris! Pull her down!"
+
+Morris obeyed, laughing. "Shucks," he said, "that wasn't fast. We were
+only going twenty-five or six miles an hour."
+
+"How do you know?" grumbled Gordon, relaxing his grip.
+
+Morris indicated the speedometer with his foot. "That thing tells you,"
+he explained. "Watch the long hand. We're doing sixteen now. I'll hit
+her up a bit. There, see the hand move around?
+Twenty--twenty-two--twenty-four----"
+
+"That'll do, thanks! And for the love of mud, Morris, keep her away from
+this fence!"
+
+"Why, there's five feet there," protested the driver.
+
+"Y-yes, but the old thing wabbles so it gives me heart failure!"
+
+"You just think it does," returned Morris. "I can keep her as straight
+as an arrow if I want to."
+
+"Want to, then, will you?" laughed Gordon uneasily. "And--and here's
+another car coming, Morris. Hadn't you better slow down a little?"
+
+"Say, you're an awful baby," commented the other. But he lowered the
+speed of the car still further and, to Gordon's relief, hugged the fence
+pretty closely while a big gray touring car shot by them in a cloud of
+dust. Morris turned a speculative, admiring gaze on it as it passed.
+
+"Thirty-five easily, she's making," he said. "Some day I'm going to have
+one like that. These little cars are all right to knock about in, but
+they're too light to get much speed out of."
+
+"How fast do you want to run, anyway?" grumbled Gordon. "Isn't twenty
+miles an hour fast enough?"
+
+"You wait till you run one and you'll see," laughed Morris. "Why, twenty
+miles will seem like standing still to you!"
+
+"It's fast enough for me," sighed Gordon. "Besides, this road is so
+rough that--_Morris!_"
+
+But Gordon's cry was too late. There was a bump, a crash, the sound of
+splintering wood, and----
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+ACROSS THE GULLY
+
+
+Gordon raised himself on one aching elbow and looked dazedly about him.
+Up the bank a dozen feet away lay the blue runabout on its side, one
+forward wheel--or the remains of it--thrust through a broken panel of
+the white fence that guarded that side of the road. A cloud of dust
+still hovered above the car, proving to Gordon that the accident had
+happened but the moment before. If it was not for that he could well
+have imagined that he had lain huddled up in a clump of bushes halfway
+down the steep bank for some time. His head was spinning wildly and he
+felt horribly jarred and bruised. But a tentative effort to get to his
+feet, while it was not successful because of dizziness, showed that at
+least he had no limbs broken. A second effort, made when the clouds had
+stopped revolving overhead like a gigantic blue-and-white pin-wheel,
+brought him staggering to his feet.
+
+Strangely enough, it was not until he stood swaying unsteadily on the
+bank that he remembered Morris, or, rather, that he felt any concern for
+him. Anxiously then he looked about on every side. But no Morris was to
+be seen. Gordon called in a weak and shaky voice. There was no reply.
+Summoning his strength, Gordon crawled slowly up the side of the
+declivity, pulling himself by bushes and grass-tufts until at last he
+was clinging limply to the fence rail. There he leaned for an instant
+and closed his eyes. He felt very much as if he was going to faint, and
+perhaps he would have had he not at that moment, just as he seemed about
+to go off into a deliciously fearsome black void, heard the sound of a
+low groan.
+
+Gordon pulled himself erect, opened his eyes and tried to look about,
+but the sunlight was frantically hot and glaring and the dusty road and
+the helpless hulk of the overturned auto danced fantastically before
+him. It was a full minute before he dared attempt to again lift his head
+and look. Even then sight was uncertain. But he realized that the
+groans--he heard them quite plainly now, low and monotonous--came from
+the further side of the car. He squirmed through the stout rails and
+stepped dizzily out into the road. Then he saw Morris.
+
+He lay half in and half out of the car, one arm stretched from him in
+the dust and the other caught between the spokes of the steering wheel.
+Evidently the wheel had saved him from being thrown out as Gordon had
+been, but the latter, gazing with horror at the white face that seemed
+crushed against the dirt of the highway, surmised that it would have
+been better for Morris had he too been hurled over the fence. The
+dreadful thought that Morris was killed assailed Gordon, only to be
+banished by the comforting knowledge that dead folks don't groan.
+
+Gordon cast despairing looks up and down the road. Not a team or person
+was in sight. Then he knelt by Morris and spoke to him. But only low,
+unconscious moans answered him. Panic-stricken for an instant, Gordon
+gazed helplessly, his wits quite deserting him. Then common-sense
+whispered and he drew a deep breath of relief and seized Morris under
+the shoulders. Tug as he might, though, he could not budge the limp
+body. Then he saw why. Morris had evidently started to leap from the car
+and had got his left leg over the side when the car struck. Now that leg
+was imprisoned with the whole weight of the runabout upon it. Again
+Gordon looked along the highway for assistance, but, as before, the road
+stretched in either direction empty and deserted. Off toward town a
+cloud of dust hovered, but whether it indicated an approaching vehicle
+or a farmer's wagon moving slowly toward Clearfield there was no
+knowing. Gordon set his lips firmly, striving to close his ears to
+Morris' groans, and tried to think what to do. Perhaps if he could find
+water he could bring Morris back to consciousness, but what use to do
+that so long as the boy was pinned there under the car? No, the first
+thing to do was to set him free, and Gordon strove to think of a way to
+do it. He didn't believe for an instant that he was capable of lifting
+that car and at the same time pulling Morris' leg from beneath it. In
+fact, he doubted if he was strong enough to raise the weight of it. To
+make certain, however, he tried. It did move a little, he thought, but
+there was no question of raising it. Then he recalled seeing
+automobilists lifting their cars with jacks to put on new tires. If
+Morris had a jack----!
+
+In a moment he was struggling with the cover over the box at the rear of
+the seat. It was jammed at one corner and it took him a full minute to
+wrench it open. When he finally did, however, the lifting jack was the
+first thing he saw. It was a small contrivance, scarcely a foot high,
+and Gordon viewed it doubtfully as he hurried with it around to the
+side. Morris' leg was held down at the ankle by the edge of the
+turning-board and there was barely space between the ground and the side
+panel of the car in which to slip the jack. But it went in finally and
+Gordon began to work the handle. There was a heartening click as the
+cogs slipped into place and a cracking of frame and varnish as the car
+slowly rose. Bit by bit it went and at last Gordon pulled the imprisoned
+leg out. And not an instant too soon, for there was a lurch, the jack
+toppled sideways and the car settled back again in the dust, a forward
+wheel spinning slowly around.
+
+Gordon turned Morris over on his back, placed a seat cushion, which had
+toppled out, under his head and again viewed the road anxiously. In the
+distance the dust cloud had disappeared and the road was still empty. He
+groaned with disappointment and exasperation. Usually a half-dozen
+vehicles would have passed in the ten minutes that had elapsed. To-day,
+because Morris' life perhaps depended on getting him to a doctor, not
+one appeared! Gordon again thought of water and looked around him. Only
+dry hillside met his gaze on one side and only the equally dry gully
+separating road from trolley track on the other. But sight of the track
+gave Gordon an idea. The cars ran every quarter of an hour or so and if
+he could somehow get Morris down the bank, across the wide gully and up
+the slope on the other side it would be only a matter of a few minutes
+to town. But the distance was a good two hundred and fifty yards, he
+calculated, and Morris was no light burden. And, to increase his
+difficulties, he himself was in poor shape to make the effort. There was
+nothing else for it, however, and Gordon hurried to the fence and viewed
+the descent. A little further along was a place where the bank had at
+some time loosened and fallen in a miniature landslide and toward that
+spot Gordon was presently making his way.
+
+He tried carrying Morris in his arms, but after the first few yards he
+had to give up. Instead, he took him by the wrists and dragged him as he
+might have dragged a sack of potatoes. It was hard work getting him
+through the fence, but easier when that obstacle was negotiated, for the
+descent helped. At the bottom of the bank it was necessary to worm in
+and out between bushes, while briars caught at him and tripped him as he
+toiled backward toward the further side of the gully. Twice he stopped
+to regain his breath and mop his streaming face. And it was while he was
+taking his second rest that a buzzing, humming sound came to him from
+the direction of town, a sound that grew louder even while he turned to
+look. Far down the track, visible here for a half-mile, came one of the
+big trolleys, swaying from side to side and eating up the rails in its
+rapid flight. There was but one thing to do, and Gordon did it.
+
+Dropping Morris' wrists, he set off at a run for the track. Once he
+tripped and measured his length in the briars, but he was up again in
+the instant, while, almost at hand as it seemed, the buzzing and
+throbbing of the rails sounded. When he finally reached the foot of the
+bank it seemed that he had not enough strength left to climb it. But
+climb it he did, somehow, with toes digging into the loose gravel and
+hands clutching at the infrequent tufts of grass or weeds. And when he
+reached the top and the side of the track the plunging car was almost up
+to him.
+
+He knelt there on the edge of the embankment and waved his arms,
+shouting at the top of his exhausted lungs. A screech from the whistle
+sent its warning and then the big car was hurtling past him, the
+motorman casting a puzzled, indifferent glance as he shot by and the few
+passengers turning inquiring faces toward the boy crouched beside the
+track. Dust enveloped him and a great despair crushed him, and he did
+what was perhaps the one thing that could have stopped the car. He
+crumpled up in a heap at the ends of the ties and then rolled, slowly at
+first and then gaining momentum as he went, down the gravel slope into a
+clump of bushes at the bottom.
+
+The conductor, who had leaned outboard at the warning shriek of the
+whistle, had seen the boy and had kept his eyes on him as the car had
+gone past. "Some kid wants to get on," he explained to a passenger
+beside him on the rear platform, "but there's no stop here." Then his
+hand flew to the bell-cord. Boys didn't crumple up like that and go
+rolling down embankments for the fun of it! With a loud grinding of
+brakes the big car came shivering to a stop a hundred yards along the
+track. The conductor tugged again at the cord and slowly the car crept
+backward. By that time the passengers were on their feet and the
+conductor was hanging over the steps. Then he had dropped and was
+plunging down the embankment in a cloud of dust and a cascade of loose
+gravel, the passenger on the platform following more carefully.
+
+Gordon was already struggling to his feet when they reached him, and
+somehow he made them understand that some thirty yards away lay the
+unconscious form of Jonathan Brent's son. After that events were very
+hazy and confused to Gordon. Kindly hands pulled and lifted him up the
+embankment and into the car, where he subsided weakly on a seat. Voices
+asked questions and he tried to answer them. Someone caught sight of the
+overturned automobile and there was much pointing and much exclaiming.
+And then three men came toiling across the ground below with Morris and
+others slid and stumbled down to help them, and almost at once the big
+car was pounding back the way it had come, its strident whistle
+shrieking above the hum of the rails in an incessant warning and alarm!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MR. MERRICK BREAKS A PLATE
+
+
+That was perhaps the quickest trip a Rutter's Point car ever made, and
+almost before Gordon realized that town had been reached, and certainly
+before he had fully recovered from his experiences, the big yellow-sided
+car was coming to a stop at the foot of B Street, from where it was but
+two short blocks to Brentwood. The prolonged and frantic whistling had
+summoned a knot of curious persons to the corner as the car trundled
+around the curve and there were plenty of willing hands to bear the
+still unconscious form the remaining distance.
+
+Gordon, not a little faint and weak, followed slowly. Someone had sped
+ahead and when the little throng reached the house anxious faces were
+already at the doorway. Gordon remained without and soon the men who had
+carried Morris inside returned to linger about the door and await the
+doctor's verdict. The latter reached the gate a minute later, and,
+leaping from his buggy, hurried up the walk, his black bag swinging
+briskly.
+
+There was a long wait after that. The accident was discussed in low
+voices by the small gathering outside and Gordon was forced to go
+through his story again. Presently he left the front steps and wandered
+around to the side of the house. From an upper window came the low
+mutter of voices. Near at hand was a rustic seat, placed against the
+wall of the screened porch, and on this Gordon subsided with a big sigh
+of relief. Inside the house a telephone bell rang shrilly. Footsteps
+hurried. The voices in the room upstairs still came indistinctly through
+the open window. It was pretty late, Gordon reflected, and he ought to
+be at home. His father would be angry with him if he was late for
+supper. But he didn't want to go until he had heard whether Morris was
+going to get well. Meanwhile, it was fine and comfortable in the corner
+of the rustic seat and he would just close his eyes a minute----
+
+Someone was shaking him gently and calling "Gordon! Wake up!" He
+stretched and opened his eyes. "Yes'm," he muttered sleepily. But it
+couldn't be morning, for it was almost dark and--and where was he? He
+sat up quickly then and gazed about him in blank surprise until his
+roaming glance encountered the smilingly concerned face of Louise Brent
+bending above him. "Oh!" he said, recollection coming to him.
+
+"Have you been here all the time?" asked Louise. "You poor boy!"
+
+"I--I must have fallen asleep," admitted Gordon sheepishly. "How--how is
+he, Louise?"
+
+The girl's face went suddenly serious in the twilight. "He's pretty
+badly hurt," she said. "One leg is broken and he hurt his head horribly,
+Gordon."
+
+"Is that all?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"They think so. Seems to me it's quite enough, though."
+
+"Of course, only----" Gordon heaved a sigh of relief--"I was afraid he
+was dying. He--he looked so awfully!"
+
+"Yes, didn't he?" Louise shuddered. "He is still unconscious, but Doctor
+Mayrick says he will get his senses back in a little while. He must have
+had an awful blow on his head. Would you mind telling me just how it
+happened, Gordon, or are you too tired?"
+
+He recounted the incidents of the unfortunate ride rather uncertainly.
+Somehow, they had got pretty much mixed up by now.
+
+"But I think you were splendid," said the girl warmly. "To think of
+stopping the trolley car was fine, Gordon. You must have been dreadfully
+scared and--and everything. And wasn't it a wonder you weren't hurt
+too?"
+
+"Yes, I suppose so. I guess it would have been better if Morris had been
+thrown out of the car too. It was the steering wheel that kept him in, I
+think."
+
+"I don't see how you ever thought of lifting the car up with the--that
+thing you spoke of," she said admiringly. "Goodness, I'd have been so
+frightened I'd have just cried!"
+
+"I guess I'd better be going home," said Gordon.
+
+"Yes, it must be quite late. And you haven't had any supper, have you? I
+wish I'd found you here before."
+
+"I don't believe I want any," he murmured. "I--I'm mighty glad he isn't
+hurt any worse. I'll come around to-morrow if you don't mind and see how
+he is."
+
+"Please do. Mama will want to see you, Gordon."
+
+"I suppose your father is pretty angry, isn't he?" asked Gordon.
+
+"He's too upset and anxious now to be angry," replied Louise. "But I
+suppose he will have something to say to Morris later. I felt all the
+time that he shouldn't run that car. It was horrid of him to get it
+without letting anyone know."
+
+"I guess he's got his punishment," replied Gordon grimly. "A broken leg
+will keep him laid up a long time. I'm awfully sorry for him.
+Good-night, Louise."
+
+It seemed a terribly long distance to his home, although it was in
+reality but two blocks. His father was on the porch, reading under the
+electric light, when Gordon reached the steps. Down went the paper and
+Mr. Merrick viewed his son with cold severity.
+
+"Well, Gordon, where have you been?" he asked.
+
+"Over to the Point, sir. I--we----"
+
+"I think I have told you fairly often that I do not like you to be late
+for your meals?"
+
+"Yes, sir," assented Gordon wearily.
+
+"Exactly. It is now--hm--nearly eight o'clock. I think you had better go
+up to your room. You don't deserve supper at this hour. And--hm--after
+this kindly give a little consideration to my wishes."
+
+"Yes, sir." Gordon wanted to tell him what had happened, but he was
+frightfully tired and the thought of getting upstairs and into his bed
+was very alluring. Mr. Merrick showed that the conversation was at an
+end by again hiding his face behind the newspaper and Gordon went
+indoors and quietly climbed the stairs, rather hoping that his mother
+would not hear him. But she did, and came out of her room with the
+secrecy of a conspirator.
+
+"Gordon, dear," she whispered, "your father was very angry and said you
+were to have no supper, but I put a little something on a plate for you.
+It's on your bureau. You shouldn't stay out like this, though, dear.
+Your father doesn't like it and--and it makes me worried, too."
+
+"Yes'm, I won't again," replied Gordon. "I--I'm not very hungry, though.
+I'm going to bed."
+
+"Aren't you--don't you feel well?" inquired Mrs. Merrick anxiously.
+
+"Yes'm, I'm all right. I just feel sort of tired. Good-night." He kissed
+her and went on up the second flight. Half-way up, though, he paused and
+called down in a hoarse whisper: "Thanks for the eats, ma!"
+
+In spite of his weariness, sleep didn't come readily. It was a hot,
+still night and, although his bed was drawn close to the two windows
+that looked out into the upper branches of the big elm, not much air
+penetrated to his room. He lay for a while staring out at the motionless
+leaves, intensely black in shadow and vividly green where the light from
+the big arc on the corner illumined them, reviewing the incidents of the
+day. He was awfully glad that Morris wasn't dangerously hurt, grateful
+for his own escape from injury and sorry that Morris would have to lie
+abed for many weeks while his broken leg knit together again. Finally he
+dozed off only to awake in a terror, imagining that he was riding in an
+automobile that was just about to plunge down a cliff so steep and deep
+that the bottom was miles away! He awoke shaking and muttering and it
+took him several seconds to reassure himself and throw off the effects
+of the nightmare. After that he tossed and turned until he remembered
+the plate on the bureau. He got up and brought it back to bed with him,
+and leaned on one elbow and ate a little of the cold chicken and
+bread-and-butter his mother had placed on it. But he wasn't really
+hungry and his appetite was soon satisfied. He put the plate on the
+floor beside him and settled down again. A clock downstairs struck nine
+and a moment later the town hall clock sounded the hour sonorously. Then
+the telephone in the first floor hall rang sharply and he heard his
+father's chair scrape on the porch and his father's feet across the
+hall.
+
+"Hello? Yes.... No.... What say?..."
+
+Gordon must have dozed then, for the next thing he knew someone was
+pushing open his bedroom door cautiously and asking if he was awake.
+
+"Yes, sir," answered Gordon.
+
+Mr. Merrick closed the door and came over to the bed. "Time you were
+asleep, son," he said concernedly. "Having trouble?"
+
+"I--I've been asleep once, sir. Something wakened me."
+
+"Hm. Er--I was just talking to Mr. Brent on the telephone, Gordon."
+
+"Yes, sir?"
+
+"Hm. He told me about the accident, son."
+
+"Yes, sir. Did he say how Morris was?"
+
+"Doing very well, he said. Why didn't you--hm--why didn't you tell me
+about it?"
+
+"I don't know, sir. I was sort of tired, and----"
+
+"Brent says you carried Morris almost half a mile to the trolley,
+Gordon."
+
+"It wasn't nearly that far. And I didn't carry him. He was too heavy.
+I--I pulled him."
+
+"Well, the doctor says it's a lucky thing you got him home as quick as
+you did. Mr. Brent is--hm--very grateful. He's going to stop in the
+morning and see you."
+
+"He needn't be," murmured Gordon. "It wasn't anything."
+
+"Hm. You can tell me about it in the morning. I-hm--I'm sorry I was so
+short with you, son. If you'd explained----"
+
+"Yes, sir, I ought to have. It--it's all right, dad."
+
+"Well, but--if you're hungry, Gordon----"
+
+"I'm not, sir. I--no, sir, I'm not."
+
+"If you are I guess you and I can forage around and find something. Sure
+you wouldn't like a little bite?"
+
+"No, sir, thank you."
+
+"Well--hm----" Mr. Merrick laid a hand on Gordon's arm and pressed it.
+"Sorry I scolded, son. I--we--we're proud of you, boy."
+
+Gordon didn't answer. It was rather embarrassing and he was glad of the
+darkness.
+
+"Good-night, Gordon."
+
+"Good-night, sir."
+
+Mr. Merrick turned away, there was a sound of cracking and crunching
+china and an exclamation.
+
+"What's this?" asked Mr. Merrick in surprise, peering down at the floor.
+
+"It--it's a plate, sir. Mother--that is----"
+
+"Hm," said Mr. Merrick, and then again "Hm!" He pushed the broken
+fragments under the bed. "I--hm--I can understand that you aren't very
+hungry," he said dryly. "Evidently your mother--hm--well, good-night,
+Gordie."
+
+The door closed. Gordon smiled at the black and green foliage beyond the
+window. It was all right about that lunch. If it wasn't his father would
+never have called him Gordie.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+GORDON BEARS A MESSAGE
+
+
+Gordon was up at seven the next morning, having had, as he reckoned, a
+good nine hours and more of sleep. At breakfast he told again the story
+of the accident, this time to an interested audience of three. The third
+was Fudge, who, since almost an hour before, had been hanging around
+waiting for Gordon's appearance, and who now was seated at table with a
+cup of coffee and one of Mrs. Merrick's graham muffins in front of him.
+Fudge acknowledged that he had rather skimped his breakfast. Mr. Merrick
+mildly censured Gordon for accepting Morris Brent's invitation to ride,
+but it was evident that he was too proud of Gordon's part in the affair
+to be severe. Fudge was anxious to know what had become of the runabout
+and Gordon replied that so far as he knew it was just where they had
+left it.
+
+"I guess," he said, "it's pretty badly smashed up. I know one wheel has
+about all the spokes out of it, and I think the axle is busted. Still, I
+dare say it can be mended."
+
+"B-b-bet you Morris will never run it again, though," said Fudge. "Guess
+it's a good chance for someone to buy an auto cheap. Wish I could!"
+
+"Why, William!" murmured Mrs. Merrick. "The idea!"
+
+"Oh, a fellow doesn't have to run it the way Morris did," replied Fudge
+knowingly. "Tim Turner's father has had a car for two years and he's
+never had an accident yet."
+
+"Why don't you see Mr. Brent?" suggested Gordon. "I dare say he will let
+you have it for almost nothing."
+
+Fudge thrust a hand in a pocket and gravely counted the change he drew
+out. "If he'll let me have it for sixty-three cents I'll take it," he
+said.
+
+Mr. Merrick pushed back his chair. "If I ever hear of either of you
+riding in an automobile without permission I'll see that you get what
+you deserve," he said grimly.
+
+Fudge grinned. "You'd have to catch me first," he said.
+
+Gordon announced his intention of running over to see Dick and his
+father reminded him that Mr. Brent was going to call. Gordon replied
+evasively that he guessed Mr. Brent had changed his mind. He secretly
+hoped that he had. But when, after Mr. Merrick's departure for his
+office, Gordon wheeled his bicycle down the steps he saw Mr. Brent
+coming along the street, his ivory-topped walking-stick thumping the
+pavement briskly. Escape was impossible and so Gordon leaned his wheel
+against the gate post and waited. Fudge melted into the background. Mr.
+Brent was about the only person Fudge was in awe of.
+
+"Well, my boy," greeted Mr. Brent, "you got off lucky."
+
+"Yes, sir. I'm awfully sorry about Morris. How is he?"
+
+"Better than he deserves," replied Mr. Brent with a snap of his jaws.
+"The doctor tells me it will be six weeks or more before he will be on
+his feet again. I suppose he was running the thing like mad, wasn't he?"
+
+"No, sir, he was going quite slowly. I don't know just how it happened,
+Mr. Brent. I think there must have been a bad place in the road."
+
+"Of course it wasn't his fault," said the other dryly. "Well, it was a
+merciful thing he had you with him, my boy. His mother and I are very
+grateful to you, Merrick. You did a very plucky thing."
+
+"It wasn't anything," muttered Gordon, looking longingly at his wheel.
+Perhaps Mr. Brent saw that he was more than willing to avoid further
+expressions of gratitude, for he smiled and said:
+
+"Well, that's all. I wanted to see you and thank you. And as I told your
+father last night I'm ready and anxious to prove my gratitude to you. If
+there's anything I can do, Merrick, you call on me."
+
+"Thank you, sir, but I guess there isn't anything."
+
+"Perhaps some day there will be. When that time comes don't forget what
+I say, Merrick. I wish you'd stop in at the house to-day or to-morrow
+and see Mrs. Brent. She wants to see you, my boy. And after Morris gets
+where he can talk to folks I'd like you to pay him a visit too. He
+doesn't deserve it, but--well, I guess he's in for a long, hard siege of
+it."
+
+"Yes, sir, I will. I--I was going to call to-day and ask after him, but
+now that I know how he is----"
+
+"Better go just the same. My wife is anxious to tell you how she feels
+about it, Merrick. She can do it better than I can, too. Your father at
+home?"
+
+"No, sir, he's gone down town."
+
+"That's where I ought to be. I waited around for the doctor to call. By
+the way, Merrick, there's something you can do for me if you will. See
+this man Stacey and get him to take that automobile away from there. If
+I talk to him I'll fly off the handle and tell him what I think of him.
+I don't care what he does with the thing. He may burn it up or fix it up
+or anything he likes, but you tell him from me that he will never get
+another cent in payment. Will you do that?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I'll see him right away. I guess the car will be worth quite
+a good deal after it's fixed up. I mean, sir, I don't think Mr. Stacey
+will be out much."
+
+"I don't care if he is," replied Mr. Brent grimly. "Morris tells me he
+paid three hundred and fifty dollars and owes about two hundred more. He
+will never get it. You tell him so. If he wants to sue, let him. I wish
+he would!" Mr. Brent flicked angrily with his cane at a spray of leaves
+that peeked through the fence. "Well, I'll be grateful if you'll attend
+to that for me, Merrick. Good morning."
+
+After Mr. Brent had gone Gordon summoned Fudge with a whistle and that
+youth sauntered around from the back yard. "I guess Stacey will be mad,"
+he commented when Gordon had told him of the commission he had accepted.
+"I'll go along with you. I like a scrap."
+
+"There isn't going to be any scrap," said Gordon. "I'll just tell him
+what Mr. Brent says and come away."
+
+"All right. Wait till I get my wheel."
+
+Mr. Stacey's place of business was on Oak Street, a smart shop with two
+big plate-glass windows behind which were displayed shining new
+automobiles. The proprietor was a small man under thirty who affected
+brilliant neckties and a jovial smile. But the smile faded when Gordon
+delivered his message. Mr. Stacey looked angry and ugly.
+
+"Is that so?" he demanded truculently. "Old Jonathan Brent said that,
+did he? Well, you tell him I hold Morris' note for two hundred and
+thirty-five dollars and I mean to collect it. Why, that car's no good to
+me, son! What would I do with it? It isn't mine, anyway. I sold it
+fairly and squarely. If he wants me to fetch it in and have it repaired
+I'll do it and charge him only what it costs, but as to taking it back
+and calling quits--nothing doing, son. You tell him that, see?"
+
+"It isn't my affair," replied Gordon calmly. "I've only told you what
+Mr. Brent asked me to. Why don't you talk to him about it?"
+
+"Because I haven't any dealings with him. I sold that car to his son. If
+he wants to talk to me let him come here or call me up on the telephone.
+It's nothing to me. I've got Morris Brent's note----"
+
+"It isn't worth anything," piped up Fudge, who found proceedings dull.
+"He isn't old enough to give a note."
+
+"We'll see whether he's old enough," was the answer. "I'll go to court
+with it if it isn't paid prompt. Get me?"
+
+"Sure. But Jonathan Brent's a bad man to fight, I guess," said Fudge
+with a shake of his head. "I wouldn't want to do it."
+
+"Maybe you wouldn't." Mr. Stacey had to smile in spite of himself. "But
+I would--if I had to. I'm not in this business for my health, son. You
+tell Mr. Brent that if he wants me to haul that car in and repair it
+I'll do it, but I won't take it back."
+
+"All right," answered Gordon. "Seems to me, though, you could fix it up
+for a few dollars and have a perfectly good car."
+
+"There's no market here for second-hand cars," replied the dealer
+shortly. "Tell you what I will do, though. I'll fix that car up as good
+as new as cheap as it can be done and take it on sale. Maybe I'd find a
+buyer for it."
+
+"You mean you'll let Morris off on the balance he owes?"
+
+"No, sir, I don't mean anything of the sort! I mean that he's to pay
+what he owes when it comes due. If I can sell the machine he'll get what
+it fetches, less my commission of twenty per cent. Understand?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell Mr. Brent what you say," agreed Gordon. "But I don't
+believe he will be willing to have it that way."
+
+"There's no other way he can have it," snarled Mr. Stacey. "He may have
+a heap of money and own this town, but he don't own me! And he can't
+cheat me out of what belongs to me, either! And you can tell him so! You
+tell him that if that two-thirty-five isn't paid by the tenth of October
+I'll sue for it."
+
+"Think of him suing Mr. Brent!" chuckled Fudge as they went out.
+
+"I guess he'd have a pretty good case, though," said Gordon. "Of course
+Morris _does_ owe that money to him."
+
+"Pshaw, Morris' note isn't worth a cent."
+
+"Maybe not; I don't know about that; but he's morally liable, isn't he?"
+
+"I guess so. Going to tell Mr. Brent now, Gordie?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "Not--not right away. I think I'll see Dick
+first. I told him I'd be over last night."
+
+Fudge chuckled again. "You're scared," he said. "I'd be, too. Tell you
+what, Gordie; tell him over the 'phone, why don't you?"
+
+"I was thinking of letting you tell him, Fudge."
+
+"Me! Gee, I wouldn't d-d-do it if he g-g-gave me the car!"
+
+They found Dick on the porch. "Hail to the Hero!" he declaimed.
+
+"Shut up!" said Gordon.
+
+"Modesty is very becoming," pursued Dick. "Hello, Fudge. I'm glad to see
+you in such distinguished society. Sit down, Gordie, and tell me about
+it. First, though, how's Morris getting on? Lanny told me that he was
+pretty well broken to pieces."
+
+"He's got a busted leg. Broken in two places. That's all. He was
+unconscious when they brought him home, but he's all right that way now.
+There isn't much to tell. We were coming along that stretch where the
+white fence is and----"
+
+Gordon went through with it again, Fudge interpolating details where
+Gordon failed to do full justice to the narrative. Afterward Gordon told
+about his visit to the automobile agent. "I don't know what to do," he
+ended. "I hate to tell Mr. Brent what that fellow said, Dick."
+
+"I don't see why. It isn't your fault. Besides, Mr. Brent is in the
+wrong, anyway. It's Morris' duty to pay what he owes. The dealer isn't
+supposed to find out before he makes a sale whether the buyer's
+relatives want him to own a car!"
+
+"That's all very well," grumbled Gordon, "but he will be as mad as a
+March hare. I don't see why he got me to do it for him, anyway."
+
+"Because you've made a hit with him," laughed Dick. "I believe if you
+asked for it you could get a yearly pass over the trolley line. And
+speaking of trolleys reminds me that I've got to hustle over to the
+Point and get busy with young Mr. Townsend. What time is it?"
+
+It was almost ten, and Dick seized his crutches and swung himself
+hurriedly into the house to reappear a minute later ready for the
+journey. Gordon and Fudge walked to the corner with him.
+
+"How about another game with those fellows, Dick?" asked Gordon. "Are
+you going to see Billings to-day?"
+
+"If you want me to. There's time enough, though, I guess. We've got a
+game with Lesterville the day after to-morrow, as you perhaps recall."
+
+"I know, but I was thinking we might get the Pointers to come over and
+play us a week from Saturday. You might see what Billings thinks about
+it."
+
+"All right. If I can find him I'll ask. By the way, he'll have to find
+someone to take Morris' place, won't he? Guess, though, it won't be hard
+to do. Here comes my car. See you later, fellows."
+
+Gordon and Fudge mounted their wheels again when the trolley had rolled
+off and pedaled leisurely along Sawyer Street.
+
+"Too bad," observed Fudge, "that Dick hasn't got that automobile,
+Gordie. It would save him a lot of hard work, wouldn't it? Say, someone
+may run off with it if it stays out there on the road much longer. Bet
+you half of it's gone already!"
+
+There was no reply from Gordon, who was riding slowly along with his
+gaze fixed intently on his handle-bar.
+
+"You ought to have hidden it behind a tree or something before you came
+away, Gordie."
+
+"Eh? Hidden what?"
+
+"The automobile, of course. Say, what did you think I was talking about,
+anyway?"
+
+"I guess I didn't hear you," replied Gordon apologetically. "I--I was
+thinking."
+
+"Some day you'll be doing that and get run down by a trolley car,"
+commented Fudge crushingly. "What were you thinking about?"
+
+"Nothing much," answered Gordon. "Want to play some tennis?"
+
+"My racket's busted. I can borrow Lanny's, though. But I guess it's too
+hot for tennis, isn't it?"
+
+"Maybe. I suppose, anyway, I'd ought to see Mr. Brent and tell him what
+that fellow said. There's no use putting it off. Will you come with me?"
+
+"Not to speak of! I'd do most anything for you, Gordie, but not that!"
+
+"Well, ride down town with me. You needn't go in."
+
+"That's fair. And I'll try to catch you when he drops you out the
+window. Come on."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+FUDGE SCENTS A SECRET
+
+
+Mr. Brent was not in. The clerk, recognizing Gordon as the youth who had
+called previously and been admitted, explained, in answer to his look of
+perplexity, that Mr. Brent had been suddenly called to New York and
+would be gone at least overnight.
+
+"He didn't leave any message for me, did he?" asked the boy.
+
+"No. He went away hurriedly. If it's very important, you can reach him
+in New York by telephone this afternoon."
+
+Gordon departed, shaking his head. On the sidewalk he was presently
+joined by Fudge, who came out of Castle's drug store, a few doors away,
+with a suspicious moistness about the mouth.
+
+"You're soon back," he said. "Did he throw you out?"
+
+"He's away. Gone to New York. Now what'll I do?"
+
+"Do nothing. That's easy. I should think you'd be tickled to death."
+
+"But that automobile can't stay out there on the road forever, Fudge.
+Someone will steal it or pull it to pieces or something. I guess I'll go
+over to the Brents' and see what Louise thinks we'd better do."
+
+"Huh! What's a girl know about it?" demanded Fudge. "Say, I had a soda.
+Want one?"
+
+Gordon shook his head at first but finally allowed himself to be
+conducted to the front of the long white marble counter. A nice cold
+raspberry phosphate is an awfully good thing to soothe the mind, and
+Gordon felt more cheerful when he emerged. Fudge, who had followed his
+original root beer with a pineapple phosphate, confided to Gordon on the
+way home that he believed he'd apply at Castle's for a job at the soda
+fountain.
+
+"You see," he explained, "I never had enough soda yet, and if I worked
+there I'll bet I'd have a dandy time!"
+
+Gordon postponed his call at Brentwood until after dinner and in the
+meanwhile presented his problem to his father. Mr. Merrick's advice was
+caution. He thought Gordon had best let the automobile alone unless he
+obtained authority from Mr. Brent or perhaps Mrs. Brent to rescue it.
+When he reached Brentwood he asked for Louise and that young lady soon
+joined him. Morris, she reported, was very comfortable, considering the
+fact that his left leg was in a cast, but the doctor didn't want him to
+see anyone quite yet. Gordon was secretly relieved, for he was afraid he
+wouldn't know just how to behave or just what to say to an invalid.
+Louise led the way to the porch and then disappeared in search of her
+mother. When that lady appeared Gordon had to listen to many nice things
+and many expressions of gratitude, all of which embarrassed him
+horribly.
+
+Mrs. Brent was a short, comfortably stout lady with soft, quiet manners
+and a voice to match. Gordon liked her immensely, but just now he found
+himself wishing that he might have escaped her. It was Louise who,
+noting his unhappiness, finally came to his rescue.
+
+"There, mama, you're embarrassing Gordon awfully. I'm sure he doesn't
+want to be thanked any more. Besides, he didn't come to make a social
+call; he's here on important business. He told me so."
+
+Gordon explained the difficulty about the abandoned automobile and asked
+them what he had better do. "You see," he pointed out, "Mr. Stacey won't
+go after it unless someone tells him to. I was thinking that perhaps the
+best thing would be to have one of the liverymen bring it back and keep
+it until Mr. Brent decides about it."
+
+"Well, I don't know what to say," replied Mrs. Brent. "If Mr. Brent says
+he won't pay the man the rest of the money, why, he won't, and that's
+all there is to that. But, of course, the automobile can't stay on the
+road. I suppose, Louise, we oughtn't to worry Morris with it just yet."
+
+"Goodness, no! What does it matter what happens to the horrid old thing,
+anyway, mama? Let someone bring it into town and keep it. I'm sure
+Morris will never want to see it again, even if papa is willing; and of
+course he won't be."
+
+"Then if Gordon will see to it----"
+
+"Yes'm, I will. I'll get Stewart to go after it. I guess he can pull it
+if he puts a timber under the broken wheel. There wouldn't be room in
+your stable for it, would there?"
+
+"Yes, there would," replied Louise. "There's lots of room in the
+carriage-house. Tell Stewart to bring it here, Gordon."
+
+"All right. That would be the best thing, I guess. Stewart would
+probably charge storage for it if he kept it at his stable. I suppose he
+will want quite a little money to haul it in, too."
+
+"Tell him to charge it to papa, Gordon. Do you mind attending to it?
+It's awfully nice of you to take so much trouble for us. You'll begin to
+think we're a pretty bothersome family, I'm afraid."
+
+"I don't mind at all. I'm glad to, Louise. I wish you'd remember me to
+Morris, please. I--I'll call and see him some time after he's able to
+have visitors. Is there anything I can do for him, Mrs. Brent?"
+
+"I think not, Gordon. You've done so much already----"
+
+"I couldn't have done any less," murmured Gordon hurriedly, fearing that
+Mrs. Brent was about to express her gratitude again. "Folks--folks made
+more of it than it--really amounted to. I guess I'll go and see Stewart.
+I hope Morris will get along finely and--and everything."
+
+"I suppose," he said, after he had bade good-bye to Mrs. Brent, "you
+won't get over to the Point for some time, Louise."
+
+"No, not for a month, probably. I don't mind a great deal. The main
+thing is to get Morris well again. It's going to be terribly dull and
+stupid for him, Gordon."
+
+"Fierce!" They had paused at the gate. "If there's anything I can do, or
+anything any of us can do, Louise----"
+
+"Not now, but you can do a lot later," she replied smilingly. "You can
+come and see him and cheer him up in a day or two. Will you?"
+
+"Of course! Glad to! And I'll bring the other fellows, too."
+
+"I guess there aren't very many others, are there?"
+
+"Many others?" he asked.
+
+"Many others who would care to come, I mean. Morris doesn't seem to have
+very many boy friends, does he?"
+
+"Why, I don't know. I guess every fellow likes Morris----"
+
+"Fibber! Never mind, though. You come when you can, Gordon. Good-bye.
+I'll tell Ryan to get a place ready for the automobile."
+
+His way to Stewart's stable led him past Lanny's house and he slowed
+down as he reached the gate and whistled. Lanny appeared from around the
+house with a bicycle chain dangling in his hand.
+
+"Come on over to Stewart's stable with me," commanded Gordon.
+
+"Can't." Lanny exhibited the chain. "Chain's busted. I've been trying to
+fix it, but I think I'll have to take it to the shop."
+
+"Bring it along, then, and we'll walk. I'll stick my wheel back of the
+fence here. I've got something I want to talk to you about."
+
+"All right. Wait till I get some of this dirt off my hands. It won't
+take a minute." As a matter of fact, it took five, and Gordon was
+established comfortably on the horse-block in front of the gate when
+Lanny returned. Together they went on along B Street and turned into
+River Street, talking very earnestly all the way and more than once
+pausing stock-still on the sidewalk. Whatever the subject of
+conversation was, it was easy to see that Lanny was both interested and
+enthusiastic, and at last, just before their halting progress landed
+them outside the livery stable, Lanny clapped a hand on Gordon's
+shoulder.
+
+"It's a peach of a scheme!" he declared. "Does he know anything about
+it?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "I just thought of it awhile ago, after I'd seen
+him. I don't think we'd better say anything to him about it, Lanny,
+because he'd probably refuse."
+
+"That's so. The best way is to go ahead and do it--and tell him
+afterward." Lanny chuckled. "The other fellows will have to know,
+though."
+
+"Yes, but we'll make them promise not to talk. Gee, if I don't hurry
+that automobile will stay out another night, I guess!"
+
+But fortunately Mr. Stewart had a truck and horses that could be at once
+dispatched on the errand and the two boys waited while the expedition
+made ready. Mr. Stewart himself, a good-natured little red-faced
+Scotchman, proposed to accompany the truck and personally superintend
+the project. Afterward Gordon went with Lanny to the bicycle repair shop
+and waited while a new link was put in the broken chain. Later in the
+afternoon they mounted their wheels and, with Fudge, who had joined them
+meanwhile, rode over to the back entrance of Brentwood and awaited the
+arrival of the automobile. It came about half-past five and was rolled
+into a corner of the big carriage-house. Then Gordon and Lanny and Fudge
+took stock of injuries. One wheel was smashed and the front axle was
+bent. It didn't require an expert to determine that much. For the rest,
+barring a broken lantern and bent fenders and a dent in the radiator,
+the car was as good as new so far as they could see.
+
+"I wish I knew enough about cars to try it and see if the engine is all
+right," said Gordon. "But I don't see how anything can be wrong there,
+do you?"
+
+"No, I guess the wheels will go around same as before," said Lanny. "How
+much do you suppose it will cost to fix it up?"
+
+Gordon shook his head. "Maybe thirty dollars," he said finally. "What do
+you think?"
+
+"Bet it will be nearer a hundred," said Fudge. "Repairs on automobiles
+cost like anything."
+
+"Fudge knows," remarked Lanny. "His repair bills are something
+frightful, aren't they, Fudge? Why, he was saying just the other day,
+Gordie, that he had half a mind to sell two or three of his cars!"
+
+"Th-that's all right," sputtered Fudge. "I've heard Mr. T-T-Turner say
+th-th-that----"
+
+"Of course you have," agreed Gordon soothingly. "By the way, Lanny,
+heard the latest? Fudge is going to get a job with Castle at the soda
+fountain."
+
+"That s-s-s-s-so?" laughed Lanny.
+
+"Yes. Can't you see Fudge, with a white apron on, leaning across the
+counter asking, 'What kind of s-s-s-s-soda will you have, Miss?'"
+
+"'S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,'" responded Lanny.
+
+"'S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we're all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla. We've got
+s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate, though.'"
+
+"Oh, dry up," said Fudge, with a grin. "If you fellows come around there
+I'll p-p-poison you!"
+
+"Well, come on, fellows, it's supper time," said Lanny. "Don't you take
+that car out and go 'joy riding,' Mr. Ryan."
+
+"Huh!" growled the Brent coachman, who had viewed the proceedings with
+deep pessimism. "I wouldn't touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How
+do I know it won't be blowin' me up some fine night?"
+
+"It won't if you treat it kindly," Fudge assured him. "Give it plenty of
+oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and a drink of gasoline now and then and it'll
+be as quiet as a lamb."
+
+They left the coachman muttering over the harness he was cleaning and
+got on their wheels. "Who will you get to look at it?" asked Lanny as
+they rolled homeward.
+
+"I don't know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I'll have to talk with
+Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I guess. And maybe it won't come to
+anything."
+
+"What won't?" asked Fudge suspiciously.
+
+"Never you mind, son. It's something that doesn't concern little boys."
+
+"Go on and tell me," begged Fudge. "Is it a secret?"
+
+"It wouldn't be if you knew it," answered Gordon unkindly.
+
+"I'd like to know when I ever blabbed anything," exclaimed Fudge
+indignantly. "Didn't I know all about Charlie Matthews a whole week
+before anyone else did? And didn't I----"
+
+"Well, we may tell you some time," teased Gordon. "What do you think,
+Lanny?"
+
+"I guess so. It would cost money to advertise it in the paper, and
+so----"
+
+"Oh, you make me tired," growled Fudge. "I don't want to know it anyway.
+'Tain't anything, I'll bet!"
+
+"Not a thing, Fudge," agreed Lanny.
+
+"Then what you so--so mysterious about?" Fudge demanded.
+
+"To arouse your curiosity, Fudge. Good-night, Gordie. Maybe you'd better
+tell him before he busts up. Good-night, Fudge. Say, we play Lesterville
+Saturday, don't we?"
+
+"You bet! And don't forget practice again to-morrow. We want to beat
+those fellows."
+
+"Well, we've got a perfect record so far," laughed Lanny. "Our
+percentage is one thousand. Played one, won one, lost none. Are the
+Pointers going to play us again?"
+
+"Sure! I told Dick to see Caspar Billings to-day if he had a chance and
+see if they'd come over here a week from Saturday."
+
+"That's good. Bet you, though, they lick us next time. So long."
+
+Lanny sped homeward and Gordon and Fudge parted midway between their
+gates. "You come over after supper, Fudge, and I'll tell you what that
+is we were talking about."
+
+"Thanks, but I guess I don't care to know," replied Fudge a trifle
+haughtily. Gordon laughed.
+
+"Don't be a chump. We were only fooling. All the fellows are going to
+know about it, but I'll tell you first if you'll come over."
+
+"You told Lanny first," Fudge objected doubtfully. "But--I'll come."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+A REVERSED DECISION
+
+
+Two days later the Clearfield Baseball Club met at the railroad station
+shortly after dinner time and boarded the train for Lesterville. Only
+Harry Bryan was missing. A press of business had developed at the
+grocery store and Mr. Bryan had, to Harry's sorrow, set his foot down on
+a Saturday holiday. A small youth named Tim Turner, a youthful crony of
+Fudge's, was drafted to play in right field and Jack Tappen was moved to
+second in Harry's place.
+
+None of the fellows was very hopeful of beating Lesterville, for the
+neighboring mill town had maintained for several years a nine which
+averaged fully two years older than Clearfield. But, as Dick pointed
+out, the game would be fine practice, even if they were beaten. "We
+really need," said Dick, "to run up against a spanking good nine and see
+how the game is played."
+
+Some of the fellows hooted at that, but Dick only smiled. "That's all
+right," he replied. "I'll wager that you'll learn one or two tricks
+to-day worth knowing."
+
+"What's their pitcher like?" inquired Fudge anxiously.
+
+"They have two of them, Fudge, and they're both pretty good."
+
+"They won't be hard for Fudge," said Pete Robey. "Fudge will eat 'em
+alive!"
+
+"Bet you I make as many hits as you do," responded Fudge eagerly. "Come
+on, now! Wh-wh-what do you say?"
+
+But Pete only grinned and shook his head. You couldn't start an argument
+with Pete.
+
+On the way to Lesterville Dick exhibited a list of games which he had
+already arranged. Rutter's Point was to play a return contest on the
+High School field a week from to-day, Logan was to visit Clearfield the
+following Wednesday and Corwin was to come a week later. "We have next
+Wednesday open," explained Dick, "and a week from Saturday. I don't
+believe we'll be able to find a game for Wednesday, but I've written
+Shirley at Springdale to get up a team to play us that Saturday. I've
+told him we'd go over there."
+
+"Fine!" exclaimed Tom Haley. "I'd love to have another chance at those
+fellows!"
+
+"Well, I suppose it won't be quite the same team that we played last
+month," said Dick. "I dare say some of their fellows have gone away for
+the summer. But that gives us three games anyhow, and perhaps four. And
+I heard of a team over at Locust Valley which may like to play us."
+
+"All those games are at home, too," reflected Lanny. "How about trying
+that scheme to charge admission, Dick?"
+
+"No harm in trying it," returned the manager thoughtfully. "Whether it
+will go or not we'll have to see. We could get a few notices printed and
+stick them around in the windows down town. And I guess the paper will
+announce the games if we ask."
+
+"A lot of folks will pay a quarter to see a good game," said Jack
+Tappen.
+
+"Would you?" challenged Gordon.
+
+"Sure," laughed Jack, "if I had the quarter!"
+
+"Not if he could find a crack in the fence," said Fudge.
+
+"Look here," announced Will Scott, "someone said they were surveying the
+athletic field, Dick. Suppose they start to work there in a day or two.
+We couldn't play those games, could we?"
+
+"In that case we'll play the teams on their own grounds."
+
+"It makes it pretty expensive," objected Way. "I'm nearly broke now. If
+I lose my return ticket someone will have to pay my fare back."
+
+"Oh, the walking's good," replied Tom carelessly.
+
+"Another thing," said Lanny. "If we play away from home we can't make
+any money."
+
+At that most of the fellows observed each other with questioning and
+somewhat dismayed glances. Dick, studying his list, replied:
+
+"That doesn't make much difference, does it? None of those places are
+far away and it won't break us to pay trolley fares. After all, we don't
+need the money as far as I see."
+
+"Don't we!" exploded Jack. "We need it like anything!"
+
+Curtis Wayland kicked him on the ankle and Jack subsided.
+
+"What for?" asked Dick, mildly surprised. "We've got four balls that
+haven't been used and three that are still good. We've got bats and
+gloves and a mask and about everything else. I thought we were in this
+for the fun of it. What do we want to make money for?"
+
+But Jack only mumbled, while the others regarded him with threatening
+looks. Will Scott changed the subject gracefully.
+
+"You fellows don't want to forget that there's a meeting to-night about
+the new field. You'd better all show up. We want to get as many there as
+possible."
+
+"Thought it was just a meeting of the committee," said Gordon.
+
+"No, it's public. We want to find out what the fellows think about it
+before we go ahead and do anything."
+
+"I don't see that there's more than one thing we can think about it,"
+observed Tom. "The old field's going and we've got to have another.
+That's dead simple."
+
+"Yes, but we may have to rent ground," replied Way. "And we want to know
+how far out of town fellows are willing to go. And how much we ought to
+pay."
+
+"And whether to get a place on the town side or across the river.
+There's a field over toward the Point, right near the car line, that
+might do."
+
+"That's a long way from school, though," objected Fudge.
+
+"Any place we find is going to be a long way," replied Will. "There
+isn't any place in town big enough to play baseball on. As a matter of
+fact, the whole thing is a good deal of a puzzle. It's going to cost us
+a lot of money, any way you look at it. We've got to have a new track
+and we've got to fence the field in and move the grandstand to it. It's
+going to cost like sixty. I wish old man Brent had to make us a present
+of the old field or lose his money."
+
+"Stingy old codger," muttered Fudge.
+
+"There's no sense in blaming Mr. Brent, Fudge," said Dick. "We ought to
+be grateful to him for letting us have the field as long as he has. What
+we'll have to do is get subscriptions from the graduates and anyone else
+we can. The next station is ours, fellows. Get your bags together."
+
+Lesterville was an unlovely town filled with smoking chimneys and the
+busy whirr of looms. A muddy canal intersected it and on either side
+immense brick mill buildings ran for the better part of a mile. But the
+boys didn't tarry long in the town. A green trolley car bore them
+swiftly away from the belching chimneys and the hot, weary looking
+streets and out to the edge of the country. The ball ground was
+surrounded by a sagging fence and was ridiculously small. A long hit
+down the right or left foul line was certain to go over the fence, while
+even a good clout into center was likely to disappear through some hole
+in the rotting boards. A few unsheltered seats were clustered close to
+the first base line and these were already occupied when the Clearfield
+team arrived. The dressing-room was a ten-foot square space, unroofed,
+thrown together behind the stand. As the fellows changed into their togs
+the spectators on the top row of seats looked down upon them and offered
+sarcastic advice and rude comments. Fudge in particular aroused their
+humor and he was pestered so that he got his playing shirt on wrong side
+to.
+
+The Lesterville nine was a pretty husky aggregation. Most of them were
+mill employees and their average age must have been fully eighteen. The
+audience was particularly partisan and offensive, and Dick, settling
+himself on the visitors' bench in the broiling sun and opening his
+score-book, reflected that it was perhaps well that there was no
+likelihood of Clearfield going home with the ball. He fancied that the
+hundred or so local sympathizers would make it quite uncomfortable for
+the visiting team if it won!
+
+There's no necessity of following Clearfield's fortunes that afternoon
+in detail. The contest was fairly featureless up to the eighth inning.
+The visitors could do nothing with Moriarity, the Lesterville pitcher,
+only three hits, one of them distinctly scratchy, accruing to their
+score and bringing in but one tally. On the other hand the home team
+showed itself very capable with the stick and Tom Haley's best offerings
+were not puzzling after the second inning.
+
+A slight attack of stage-fright in that round on the part of Clearfield
+aided the home players. Almost every member of the visitors' infield
+managed to make an error, while Tom's wild throw to first in the third
+allowed Lesterville to add two runs to her already swelling score. When
+the eighth inning began Lesterville had nine runs to Clearfield's one,
+and there seemed no reason to suppose that the final tally would be any
+more complimentary to Clearfield.
+
+Dick had predicted that his charges would learn some new tricks and his
+prediction was verified. Clearfield was the innocent victim of several
+plays quite outside her ken. Unfortunately, most of them were the sort
+she didn't care to emulate. For instance, when Curtis Wayland tried to
+steal second on Jack Tappen's lucky grounder into short right he failed
+for the simple reason that second baseman and shortstop occupied the
+base line and Way had to crawl around them to touch the bag.
+Unfortunately, by that time right fielder had sped the ball to
+shortstop, and the umpire, a young gentleman whose impartiality had all
+along been in grave doubt, ruled Way out. Of course Clearfield
+protested. Way lost his head and threatened bodily injury to the second
+baseman, who topped him by six inches, and some dozen or so Lesterville
+youths flocked to the scene. Gordon, however, lugged Way, protesting
+bitterly, from the field and then quietly asked the umpire to reverse
+his decision. But the umpire wouldn't even listen and there was nothing
+for the visitors to do but swallow their indignation and accept the
+ruling. Again, earlier in the contest, the Lesterville pitcher objected
+to having a new ball thrown to him after Lanny had fouled a soiled one
+into the street, and turning, threw the new one far into center field.
+The center fielder refused to go after it and the umpire yielded,
+throwing out another old ball.
+
+Still, Lesterville did show some playing that the visitors opened their
+eyes at. Such base-running Gordon's team had never witnessed. One
+red-headed youth named Myers never failed to steal second yards ahead of
+the ball and on one occasion stole all the way around the bases,
+reaching home on Tom's wind-up and subsequent hurried and wild pitch.
+The Lesterville fellows were born ball players and had graduated from
+the back lots outside the factories. They knew every trick of the game
+and used them all.
+
+When Clearfield went to bat in the eighth it was Jack's turn with the
+stick and Jack connected with a straight one and slammed it far out into
+left field, where it banged against the fence and rolled away from the
+fielder while Jack reached second with time to spare. Tim Turner fanned,
+Pete Robey worked a pass and Lanny hit into what should have been an
+easy double. But the Lesterville second baseman fumbled the ball and the
+bases were full. Unfortunately, with one out, it was Fudge's turn at bat
+and Tom Haley followed Fudge. It looked to the visitors on the bench
+very much like another shut-out. But Fudge, perhaps still smarting under
+the gibes that had been thrown at him all the afternoon, surprised
+himself and everyone else by hitting cleanly between first and second.
+Two runs came in, Lanny reached third and Fudge stood panting on first.
+Tom Haley went out on strikes and Will Scott came to bat. Fudge stole
+without challenge. Will fouled off three and had two balls to his
+credit. Then something that looked good came his way and he swung at it
+mightily. The ball streaked far out into center field and the bases
+emptied. Will got to second safely, heard the frantic cries of the
+coachers and sprinted for third. Then in came the ball to shortstop, and
+that youth turned quickly and pegged to third. The sphere went fully
+four feet above third baseman's head and Will legged it home while his
+team-mates on the bench shouted and cavorted and Dick, being unable to
+jump around, beat the ground with a crutch!
+
+Nine to seven looked a heap better than nine to one, and there was still
+but one man out. Clearfield had ecstatic visions of a victory. But the
+Lesterville pitcher settled down and disposed of Gordon with five
+pitched balls and made Way pop up an easy fly to right fielder, and the
+eighth inning was over for the visitors.
+
+Lesterville came back in her half with vigor and poor Tom was kept
+dodging liners that soon filled the bases. But the home team had a
+streak of bad luck in that inning. The runner from third was struck by a
+streaking liner that was meant for left field, and, fortunately for the
+opponents, the ball, after colliding sharply with the base-runner's leg,
+rolled toward the pitcher's box and Tom scooped it up and got it to
+first ahead of the batsman, who, counting on a two-base hit, had made a
+slow start. Lesterville resented her ill-fortune and, with two gone, the
+next batsman sent a long fly into left field that barely escaped going
+over the fence and had Way chasing around like a chicken with its head
+off while two tallies were added to Lesterville's nine. A moment later
+Tom secured his fifth strike-out of the contest and the teams changed
+sides.
+
+There was still a chance to win, declared Dick, and Jack was instructed
+to lay down a bunt along third base line. Jack followed instructions
+deftly and to the letter. The ball trickled a scant ten feet and,
+although third baseman came in for it and both catcher and pitcher did
+their best, Jack was easily safe. Young Turner, instructed to sacrifice
+Jack to second, did his best but struck out miserably for the fourth
+time. Pete got the signal for a hit-and-run play and swung at the third
+ball. He missed it, but the Lesterville catcher, who so far had been
+pegging the ball to second with deadly aim, threw low and before the
+shortstop had secured the ball Jack was sprawled in the dust with one
+foot on the bag.
+
+Pete, with two strikes against him, was wary. Twice he spoiled good ones
+by fouling and then he was caught napping and retired to the bench with
+trailing bat. With two down the game looked to be over. But Lanny
+evidently thought otherwise, for he hit the first delivery squarely on
+the nose and Jack leaped away for third. The ball sped high toward
+center and although second baseman made a gallant attempt to get it, it
+went over his head. Jack turned third and streaked for the plate. The
+center fielder, however, had come in fast and now the ball was flying to
+the catcher. Lanny sped to second on the throw-in. Ten feet away from
+the home plate Jack hurled himself feet-foremost through a cloud of
+dust, rolled over the base and out of the way just as the ball settled
+into the catcher's mitt. The umpire spread his hands wide to signify
+that the runner was safe, but the catcher turned fiercely on him.
+
+"He never touched it!" he bawled. "Look at where he went!" He indicated
+a mark far back of the plate.
+
+"Who didn't touch it?" demanded Jack, scandalized and indignant. "I
+rolled over it!"
+
+Players ran up excitedly. The umpire hesitated, glanced from the
+belligerent catcher to the astounded Jack, shook his head and said:
+"He's out!"
+
+"_What!_" shrieked Jack.
+
+"Sure you're out," said the pitcher with a grin. "You didn't go anywhere
+near the plate. Beat it, kid!"
+
+Gordon grabbed Jack's arm and hustled him toward the bench, pursued by
+the laughter of the Lesterville players and the gibes of the spectators,
+crowding off the stand. At second Lanny got to his feet and tramped
+morosely in to the bench.
+
+"I was all over the plate!" Jack was declaring fiercely. "He's a
+robber!"
+
+"Of course you were," agreed Gordon soothingly. "He knows it, but he's
+scared of the bunch. Never mind, it's all in the day's work, Jack."
+
+"I tell you I was safe!" sputtered Jack. "What do you want to quit for?
+Why don't you make them play it out?"
+
+"No good, Jack. Shut up and change your things. We've got to hustle for
+the train."
+
+Just then the Lesterville captain walked up to Gordon. "Say," he said,
+"we'll play you fellows again some time if you like. You put up a good
+game, all right, Merrick."
+
+"Thanks, I dare say we can get together again," replied Gordon not
+overly enthusiastic. "I'll let you know."
+
+"Next time we'll have a decent umpire," cried Jack, pausing on his way
+to the dressing shed. "That man's a thief!"
+
+"Aw, don't be a baby," growled the opposing captain. "You were out all
+right enough. I saw the play, didn't I?"
+
+"I don't care whether you did or not. I was perfectly safe. I crossed
+the plate before the ball ever got to him!"
+
+"What if you did, kid? You didn't touch it. That ump is all right. The
+trouble is you can't take a beating. Chase yourself."
+
+Jack was fighting mad then and pushed his way back, but Gordon and some
+of the others seized him, while the stragglers from the audience
+clustered around, eager for trouble.
+
+"Jack, you get out of here," directed Dick sternly.
+
+"Like fun I will! That big chump can't tell me----"
+
+"Just one more word and you'll be suspended!" Dick spoke very quietly.
+Jack stared open-mouthed, his gaze traveling from the derisive face of
+the Lesterville captain to the stern countenance of the Clearfield
+manager. Gordon and Lanny still held him firmly. He swallowed hard,
+rewarded Dick with a baleful glare and said:
+
+"Go ahead and suspend! You're a peach of a manager, anyhow, to stand
+around and let those robbers swipe the game on us! You----"
+
+But Gordon and Lanny hustled him promptly through the throng at that,
+the crowd dissolved and the field emptied. In spite of Jack's protest
+the game was recorded: Lesterville, 11; Clearfield, 7.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+JACK IS SUSPENDED
+
+
+They talked it over on the way back in the train and the consensus of
+Clearfield opinion was that, taking into consideration the indisputable
+fact that the umpire had been against them all through the game, the
+final score was nothing to be ashamed of. Only Jack failed to subscribe
+with any enthusiasm to that verdict. Jack frankly sulked.
+
+Dick called Gordon over to his seat after the discussion had waned and
+the fellows had quieted down. "Who," he asked, moving his crutches to
+make room for Gordon, "can we get to take Jack's place?"
+
+"To take Jack's place?" exclaimed Gordon. "Why, what's the matter with
+Jack?"
+
+"I thought you understood that he was suspended," replied Dick calmly.
+"I certainly gave him a fair warning."
+
+"But--but--" blurted Gordon in bewilderment, "you can't do that!"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+Gordon stared. Finally, "Are you in earnest?" he asked.
+
+"Of course. I'm manager of this team. And while I'm manager the fellows
+have got to behave. Jack was all wrong. He had no business talking like
+that. In the first place, it wasn't up to him to protest the decision.
+In the next place he might have got us into a nasty row with those
+toughs over there. They were dying for a scrap all along. If they had
+started anything we'd have got pretty well mussed up, Gordie."
+
+Gordon nodded. "I know," he said gloomily, "but--Jack was excited, Dick.
+And it _was_ a robbery. You can't blame him for getting a bit hot about
+it."
+
+"I don't. I blame him for showing it, or, at least, proclaiming it. If
+I'm manager, I'm going to manage. If I can't manage, I'm not manager.
+Which is it?"
+
+"Why, you're manager, of course, Dick. But--Jack won't like being
+suspended. In fact, he will probably get mad and quit altogether."
+
+"I don't think so," replied Dick. "But that's his look-out. He's
+suspended for a week--if I'm manager."
+
+"All right," muttered Gordon. "Of course, you realize that leaves us in
+a hole next Saturday, Dick. Jack's one of our best players, and I don't
+know where we'll find anyone to take his place."
+
+"Neither do I yet. But we've got a whole week to find someone. He'd be
+suspended, though, if he was the last player on the team."
+
+"Are you going to tell him?" asked Gordon uneasily. Dick smiled.
+
+"Evidently you don't care to?"
+
+"I surely don't."
+
+"Yes, I'll tell him. He ought to know it, though, because I usually mean
+what I say. You needn't mention it to anyone to-day. I'll have a talk
+with him to-morrow, maybe."
+
+"He'll quit flat-footed," mourned Gordon. Dick smiled again.
+
+"I don't believe so. I think I know Jack a little better than you do,
+Gordie."
+
+The next afternoon, an hour or so after dinner, Dick called Gordon on
+the telephone. "Can you come around here for a few minutes?" he asked.
+
+"Yes, I was just starting, Dick. Anything up?"
+
+"Not much. I wanted to talk to you about a chap for Jack's place."
+
+"Oh! You--you haven't changed your mind about that, then?"
+
+"No." Dick's voice sounded amused.
+
+"Well----" Gordon frowned at the telephone instrument. "I'll be over
+right away, Dick."
+
+Dick was on the porch, in spite of the fact that it was raining briskly,
+and his sister, Grace, was with him. Grace was thirteen and a very
+pretty girl, with dark hair and eyes. She was enveloped in a long apron
+and had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows and explained to Gordon that
+she was in the middle of washing up the dinner dishes.
+
+"Dick called me out to read me a perfectly ridiculous story in the
+paper," she laughed. "Read to Gordon, Dick, and see if he thinks it
+funny."
+
+Dick laughed. "Grace was born without a sense of humor, Gordie, and I
+find I can't educate her."
+
+"Sense of humor!" scoffed Grace. "That story isn't the least bit funny.
+I'll leave it to Gordon." She jumped up. "I must finish those dishes."
+
+"What's the story?" asked Gordon, seating himself well away from the
+dripping vines.
+
+"The story? Oh, never mind that! Jack's just been here."
+
+"He has? Well--what--how did he take it?" asked Gordon anxiously.
+
+Dick gravely regarded the point of one shoe. "Well, I'll tell you the
+last thing he said as he went off, Gordie. He said: 'Tell Gordon I know
+a fellow named Shores who works in the plating factory. He's a pretty
+good ball player. If you like, I'll talk to him and see if he will play
+for us Saturday.'"
+
+Gordon viewed his friend with admiration, and shook his head helplessly.
+"I don't see how you manage folks the way you do, Dick," he said.
+
+"That comes of being manager," laughed Dick.
+
+"If I'd told Jack he was suspended for a week he'd have sassed me and
+gone off in a huff and never played again!"
+
+"Oh, no, he wouldn't! Jack's a good, sensible chap. He's a little bit
+stuck on himself, but that doesn't matter, and he will get over it some
+time. I just told him that he was wrong, and made him see it. And I
+convinced him without much trouble that it was for the good of the team
+that he should sit on the bench for a week. Of course, he was a bit
+huffed at first, but he got over that. In fact, Gordie, I think he's
+rather proud of being suspended. It sounds sort of professional and
+big-leaguish!"
+
+"You could convince a fellow it was a real pleasure to have his head cut
+off!" said Gordon. "I wish I had your--your diplomacy."
+
+"That's a big word for it, Gordie. Last night's meeting was rather a
+fizzle, wasn't it?"
+
+Gordon nodded gloomily. "I don't see how we're going to get a field in
+time for football practice if we don't do more than we did last night."
+
+"Too much talk," agreed Dick. "Somebody ought to just go ahead and find
+a field and then make a report on it. As for paying a hundred and
+twenty-five dollars a year rent for one, why, that's poppycock. We
+couldn't afford it, especially as we'll have to build a running track
+before next Spring."
+
+"Way suggested that we could transfer next Spring's meet to Springdale.
+That would give us nearly two years to fix up a track."
+
+"Not a bad idea. Most of the fellows seemed to fancy that place across
+the river beyond the carpet mills. It would be fairly near home, but
+it's a mean part of town."
+
+"Punk! If we have to find a new place--and I suppose we must--I'm for
+going out toward the Point. Fellows seem to think it's too far out
+there, but you can jump on the trolley and get there in no time. They'd
+put a stop opposite the field for us if we asked."
+
+"Yes, I should think Mr. Brent would do that much for us since he's
+taking our field away," agreed Dick. "By the way, seen Morris yet?"
+
+"No; I thought I'd go over this afternoon and see how he is. Maybe he's
+receiving callers by this time. Dick, do you know anything about running
+an automobile?"
+
+Dick stared. Then he laughed. "Well, hardly, Gordie! How should I?"
+
+"Well, of course you've never run one, but you know such a raft of stuff
+fellows usually don't know that----"
+
+"You thought I'd made a study of autos? No, I'm afraid I can't advise
+you much, Gordie. Thinking of buying one?"
+
+"N-no, not exactly."
+
+"Going to rent it, then?"
+
+"No, you idiot. I--I only wondered. I dare say you could drive an
+automobile finely, though. Your arms are all right and you told me once
+that you thought of getting one of those velocipede chairs that you work
+with your feet."
+
+"I see what you're driving at. Old Man Brent has commissioned you to
+sell that car of Morris'. Is that it?"
+
+Gordon looked startled, but shook his head. "No, he hasn't. I dare say,
+though, anyone could buy it pretty cheap," he remarked carelessly.
+
+"I'm afraid I couldn't afford it, Gordie," Dick laughed. "You'll have to
+find another buyer."
+
+"I know. I was just wondering if you _could_ run an auto if you had
+one."
+
+"Why, I suppose so. I've got plenty of strength in my legs when I'm
+sitting down, you know, and so far my arms are still working. But I
+don't believe I'll ever have a chance to try, Gordie. At least, not
+unless you get an auto and let me run it for you. How would I do as a
+chauffeur?"
+
+"I'll bet you could run an auto to the King's taste, Dick! You do most
+everything better than the rest of us."
+
+"You mean I think I could! Well, I'm not stuck-up about my automobile
+driving, Gordie. That's one thing I'm not conceited about. Going now?"
+
+"Yes, I guess I'd better run over to Morris'. I told his sister I'd look
+in pretty soon. When he can see folks, Dick, will you go over with me
+some time?"
+
+"Of course. Glad to. Let me know when you want to go."
+
+"Really?"
+
+"Why not?"
+
+"I don't know. I thought--you seemed sort of down on Mr. Brent and maybe
+you wouldn't want to go to his house."
+
+"Oh, I'm not as down on him as all that," laughed Dick. "And, anyhow,
+his house never did anything to me." He paused and added soberly: "For
+that matter, Gordie, I don't want you to think that I am really sore
+against Mr. Brent. Sometimes I get sort of peeved about that affair of
+dad's, but maybe, after all, it was more his fault than Mr. Brent's.
+Anyway, I've never accused Jonathan Brent of being dishonest. I don't
+think he is. Give my regards to Morris if you see him, and tell him I'll
+come over and call some day if he doesn't mind. See you to-morrow
+afternoon, Gordie. We've got to practice hard this week. And I'll tell
+Jack to look up his friend in the plating works."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+A VISIT TO THE INVALID
+
+
+Gordon found Morris not only able but eager to see him. Louise conducted
+him upstairs to a big square bedroom in the middle of which, between two
+bay windows, Morris' bed looked small and lonesome. There was a table by
+the bed, and on it was a great vase of pink roses, and some magazines,
+books, and glasses. A rocking-chair near the table with a magazine
+spread open in it suggested that someone, probably Louise, had been
+reading to the invalid.
+
+Morris lay flat on his back, with only the wispiest little pillow under
+his head. Gordon was shocked to see how pale and drawn he looked as he
+waved a hand at the visitor's entrance and called quite cheerfully
+across the room: "Hello, Gordon! Gee, but I'm glad to see you!"
+
+Gordon took the chair beside the bed and asked Morris how he felt.
+
+"Oh, pretty good, thanks! My leg's done up in a ton of plaster, I guess,
+and it hurts a good deal. But the doctor's tickled to death with it, and
+so I suppose I've got to be satisfied too. How are you? I thought you
+were never coming to see a fellow."
+
+"I've been wanting to come ever since--it happened," answered Gordon;
+"but at first they said I mustn't see you, and then, yesterday, there
+was the game at Lesterville----"
+
+"It must have been a peach of a game, even if you fellows did get
+beaten." Morris paused abruptly and lowered his eyes. "Say, Gordon, I
+guess you know I'm--I'm awfully grateful----"
+
+"Now, look here," interrupted Gordon sternly, "don't you start that too!
+I've had a lot of it from your mother and Louise and Mr. Brent, and if
+you begin I'll beat it out of here!"
+
+"All right," laughed Morris, "only--well, thanks, Gordon!" A twinge of
+pain brought a momentary scowl to his face. "I was mighty glad you
+didn't get banged up too. It was a wonder you didn't."
+
+"Oh, I'm like a cat; I light on my feet. What happened, anyhow?"
+
+"I don't know--quite. The first thing I knew the wheel spun around
+almost out of my hands and we were smashing against that fence. I
+suppose there was something in the road I didn't see. I made a grab for
+the emergency brake and tried to set it. Then I got a leg over the side
+of the car and--and that's all I remember. How badly is the car smashed,
+Gordon?"
+
+"The right front wheel has most of the spokes out of it, and the axle is
+bent on that side. And there are some dents in the running board and
+radiator and one lamp's done for. I don't believe, though, it will cost
+you much to get it fixed up again almost as good as new. I suppose
+you'll have to get rid of it, though, won't you?"
+
+Morris grinned. "Rather! And I'll have to pay for it, too!"
+
+"Your father says----"
+
+"I know; but Stacey has my note for the rest of the money, and I don't
+propose to be a squealer, Gordon. I'll get the money somehow. If dad
+won't give it to me, maybe my mother will. I'll get it somewhere. I'm
+not going to have Stacey telling it around that I don't keep my word or
+pay my debts. I wish I'd let the blamed thing alone; but I didn't, and
+so there's no use talking about that now."
+
+"What--what are you going to do with it?" asked Gordon.
+
+"Get Stacey to sell it for me, I guess. I haven't talked to dad about it
+yet. He only got home from New York yesterday. I suppose he will be mad
+when I tell him I want to pay the rest of the money."
+
+"I ought to see him, too," said Gordon uneasily, "and tell him what Mr.
+Stacey said. Is--is he at home to-day?"
+
+"Yes, but you'd better wait a while. He always takes a nap Sunday
+afternoons. I guess I'll let you tell him about Stacey before I tackle
+him."
+
+"How much would you sell the car for?" asked Gordon presently.
+
+"Anything I could get, I guess. Of course, it's never been used but a
+week; the speedometer shows only two hundred and eighty miles, I think;
+but I suppose it's just as much second-hand as if it had been run a
+whole year. I should think Stacey might get three hundred for it,
+though."
+
+Gordon looked disappointed. "Oh!" he murmured. "Well, I suppose it is
+worth all of that. Only, I was thinking----"
+
+"What?" asked Morris.
+
+"It--it sounds sort of cheeky," replied Gordon, after a moment's
+hesitation, "and you might not think much of the idea, but what I--what
+we were considering is this, Morris." He drew the chair closer to the
+bed, with a glance at the half-open door, and lowered his voice.
+
+An hour or so later Gordon left Brentwood well satisfied. Mr. Brent had
+only smiled at Mr. Stacey's ultimatum, thanked Gordon for the trouble he
+had taken, and approved of the rescue and temporary disposal of the
+automobile. "We'll let it stay where it is for the present," he said,
+"and I'll have a talk with Morris about it some day. If Stacey doesn't
+want to take it back, I guess we can get the junkman to haul it away."
+
+"I think Morris has a--a scheme, sir, that would be pretty fine,"
+returned Gordon. "That is, if--if you were willing."
+
+"A scheme? What sort of a scheme, Merrick?"
+
+"I'd rather he told you about it, sir."
+
+"Humph! I don't think much of Morris' schemes as a rule," replied Mr.
+Brent grimly. "However, I'll hear what he has to say."
+
+On Tuesday placards in the shop windows made the following announcement:
+
+                               BASEBALL!
+                     Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
+                           HIGH SCHOOL FIELD,
+                          Saturday at 3 P. M.
+                          Admission: 25 Cents.
+
+Also on that morning the Clearfield _Reporter_ obligingly called the
+public's attention to the game and predicted a close and exciting
+contest. The notice in the newspaper cost the club nothing, but the
+printed announcements took just a dollar and sixty-five cents from the
+exchequer, and caused Fudge, whose portion of the expense amounted to
+eighteen and one-third cents, a deal of gloom.
+
+"Nobody's going to pay real money to see a lot of kids play ball," said
+Fudge. "So what's the good of spending all that on notices? Gee, we
+could have bought a new ball with that money!"
+
+One or two others thought as Fudge did, but most of the team were
+optimistic, and Tim Turner was created ticket seller and gateman, and
+was to receive fifty cents for his services. Fudge declared that if Tim
+sold enough admissions to pay himself his wages he'd be "m-m-m-mighty
+lucky!" But as events proved Fudge was unnecessarily pessimistic.
+
+Meanwhile, on Monday, Jack Tappen had fulfilled his agreement to find a
+substitute, and Danny Shores was duly "signed up" for Saturday's game
+with the Point. Danny, who proved to be a long and lanky youth of
+sixteen or seventeen years, showed up for practice on Wednesday and made
+a good impression in right field and at the bat. Unfortunately,
+Wednesday was the only day he could get off, and, as Jack assured Dick,
+it took a lot of wire-pulling to secure that concession from Danny's
+boss at the plating works. However, Danny played ball more or less every
+lunch-hour behind the factory, and so was by no means out of practice.
+Jack's demeanor was amusing that week. He tried to look chastened and
+sad, but it was easy to see that he took it as a personal compliment,
+that suspension, and was vastly proud of it. Jack appeared to reason
+that if he hadn't been an extraordinarily valuable member of the team
+Dick would not have taken the trouble to discipline him! Jack was as
+busy as a hive of bees, and was so generous with advice that Dick and
+Gordon found him something of a nuisance.
+
+"I wish he was playing ball instead of sitting on the bench," confided
+Gordon, in comic despair. "Next time, Dick, throw him in the river, but
+don't suspend him. He's as pleased as Punch with himself!"
+
+Of course, the others tried their best to have their fun with Jack, but
+the attempt was not very successful. Jack seemed to consider that a
+signal honor had been done him, and, while he professed to be chagrined
+and ashamed of his position, he was secretly well contented and was
+enjoying it all greatly. As Dick said, one could have stood that well
+enough if Jack hadn't tried to run the team!
+
+But Jack Tappen was not the only cross that Dick had to bear just then.
+As a tutor Dick was having his troubles, too. Harold Townsend had at
+last, to use Caspar Billings' expression, "laid down in the shafts." Not
+only that, but he was "kicking over the traces" as well. Dick was pretty
+nearly at his wits' end. The pupil's first slight awe of his teacher had
+soon worn off, and now he was frankly mutinous. He no longer made
+pretense of studying the lessons Dick laid out for him, only grinned
+exasperatingly when taken to task, and, in short, openly defied
+authority. Dick worried for two reasons: In the first place, he disliked
+to be beaten. In the second place, he felt that he had no right to take
+money from Harold's mother when he was not earning it. And he wanted the
+money and needed it. Harold apparently realized that any appeal to his
+mother by Dick would be useless. And Dick was pretty certain of as much
+himself. Nevertheless, on Thursday of that week he decided that the time
+had come for an understanding. Loring, Harold's older brother, had
+threatened all sorts of dire punishment if that youth didn't behave, but
+the threats had not impressed Harold much. Perhaps he knew that Loring
+wouldn't carry them out. On Thursday the lesson had been the merest
+farce, and Harold's behavior had for once almost caused Dick to lose
+command of a usually well-governed temper. At last:
+
+"I shall have to talk to your mother, Harold," he said. "This kind of
+thing can't go on. You're wasting your time and mine----"
+
+"Aw, you get paid, don't you?" asked Harold, with a scowl.
+
+"I get paid for teaching, not for loafing," responded Dick sharply. "I
+shall want to see you when I come back. So don't go off, please."
+
+"I shall if I want to. You don't own me, Lovering. Besides, study time's
+up, anyway."
+
+Dick, disdaining to answer, set off to find Mrs. Townsend. The
+conference took place on a corner of the hotel veranda. Mrs. Townsend
+was a sweet-voiced, pretty woman, with a tired air. At first she seemed
+to resent Dick's charge against her boy. Then she grew pathetic, and
+bewailed the fact of her husband's death.
+
+"If he had lived," she sighed, "Harold would have been a different boy.
+I've never been able to do anything with him. He needs a stronger hand,
+I fear. Perhaps--that is, possibly--er--it would have been better to
+have found someone--someone a little older to take him in hand. Of
+course, I don't mean to suggest that you haven't done excellently, Mr.
+Lovering, for I'm quite sure you have; but, of course, as you are so
+little older than Harold, he may feel--er--you see what I mean, don't
+you?"
+
+"Yes'm, but I don't think that's the trouble. Harold doesn't want to
+study, doesn't seem to see the necessity of learning and won't. If I had
+full authority over him----"
+
+"Oh, but you have! I thought that was understood."
+
+"Oh, for two hours, perhaps, Mrs. Townsend; but what I mean is that if
+I--well, if you'd just back me up, I'm sure I could accomplish
+something."
+
+"Please explain. I don't think I understand."
+
+"Why, it's like this," replied Dick desperately: "He knows now that if
+he doesn't want to learn his lessons he doesn't have to. So he doesn't
+do any work. If--if you'd make him understand that he _does_ have to,
+Mrs. Townsend, that if he doesn't he will be--punished----"
+
+"Oh, but I've never punished Harold!" she protested. "I don't believe in
+punishment; that is, other than verbal. A high-spirited boy such as he
+is--er----"
+
+"Yes'm, I know, but you want him to go to Rifle Point, and he will never
+get there if he doesn't take some interest in his lessons and do some
+work. See here, please." Dick had provided himself with a Rifle Point
+School catalogue, and now he went over for Mrs. Townsend's benefit the
+list of studies required for entrance. Mrs. Townsend listened with a
+puzzled, tired frown on her pretty forehead.
+
+"And you think he isn't far enough advanced, Mr. Lovering, to enter this
+Fall?"
+
+"He isn't advanced at all!" blurted Dick. "What he has learned he has
+forgotten. He--he's two years behind those requirements, Mrs. Townsend."
+
+"Dear me! And I had hoped----" She sighed tremulously. "What do you
+advise?"
+
+"I advise you to make Harold understand that he's got to do what I tell
+him to, and that if he doesn't he will be punished."
+
+"But I never could punish him!"
+
+"No'm, I'm sure of that," agreed Dick. "You let me do it."
+
+"You?" she faltered. "Could you--that is----"
+
+"I don't mean whip him, Mrs. Townsend, or anything like that. I'll find
+a way that will answer quite as well."
+
+"Could you really? But how?"
+
+"I don't know just yet," Dick owned. "But I'll find a way. Really, Mrs.
+Townsend, you'll have to do something of that sort. Harold's just
+wasting his time and mine. And I can't take your money when I'm not
+earning it."
+
+"Oh, but I'm sure you are! Even if--if Harold doesn't get on very fast,
+it is a great relief to me to know that for two hours a day at least he
+is in good care and not--not running around with those horrid bell-boys.
+I'm sure that's worth every penny of the money!"
+
+"Not to me, ma'am. I mean I wouldn't be satisfied to go on with things
+as they are now. I wish you'd try my way, Mrs. Townsend. All I'd want
+you to do would be just to tell Harold that he is to do absolutely as I
+tell him to, and that there is no use in his appealing to you."
+
+"We--ell, if you're quite certain it won't break his spirit or--or
+anything like that," agreed Mrs. Townsend doubtfully. "I do want him to
+get on, Mr. Lovering. If only he had half the studiousness that Loring
+has!"
+
+"He can study very well when he wants to," replied Dick dryly. "And I'm
+pretty sure I can make him want to if you will just stand back of me,
+Mrs. Townsend."
+
+"I will, really and truly," she said. "Thank you so much, Mr. Lovering.
+I--I'll speak to Harold this evening, and----"
+
+"Couldn't you speak to him now just as well, please?"
+
+"Now? Why, I suppose so. If you wish. Perhaps I'd better, and get it
+over with." Mrs. Townsend sighed deeply. "Will you send him to me, Mr.
+Lovering?"
+
+"Yes'm, if I can find him," answered Dick. "I'm afraid, though, he's
+gone off somewhere. I'll look him up, Mrs. Townsend. Thank you very much
+for--for helping me."
+
+Harold was not in his room where Dick had left him, and inquiry around
+the corridor of the hotel at first failed to elicit any information.
+Ultimately, however, Dick found a boy who had seen Harold walking down
+the beach about a half hour before and Dick set off in the indicated
+direction toward the distant point of rocks that jutted out into the
+sea.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV
+
+ON THE ROCKS
+
+
+It was hard going for Dick, for his crutches sank into the sand nearly
+to the depth of their rubber tips, but he persevered, and after some ten
+minutes of "crutching" arrived at the end of the beach where the point
+of rock from which the place received its name advanced from the grassy
+bluff and waded far into the breakers. Harold was not in sight when Dick
+reached the bottom of the ledge; but a few moments later when by careful
+climbing Dick had reached the seaward end of the rock, he came into
+view. The receding tide had left a long and narrow pool in a cleft of
+the ledge, a pool whose sides were festooned with delicate seaweed and
+set with purple mussels and green and brown snails and in whose bottom
+pink starfish crawled. Harold, perched at the edge of the pool, was
+looking fascinatingly into the clear green depths and didn't hear the
+soft tap of Dick's crutches until the older boy was almost beside him.
+Then he turned startledly, narrowly escaping a bath in the pool, and
+scowled at the intruder.
+
+"Had to hunt for me, anyway, didn't you?" he asked sneeringly.
+
+Dick paid the question no heed. Instead, he moved to the edge of the
+pool and peered interestedly into it. He didn't have to feign interest,
+he was interested. It seemed a long time to Dick since he had crouched,
+as Harold was crouched now, and gazed fascinatingly at the wonders of a
+rock pool. Nor had he done it very frequently, for climbing over the
+ledges is hard and risky work for a boy without two good legs. Harold
+continued to frown at a wavering starfish in the depths, but presently,
+as Dick did not speak, he shot a curious glance at him.
+
+"Gee," he said to himself, "you'd think he'd never seen starfish and
+things before!"
+
+Dick took off his hat and wiped his moist forehead. Then he lowered
+himself cautiously to a seat on the rock. "Regular natural aquarium,
+isn't it?" he asked pleasantly. Harold's reply was an unintelligible
+growl. "Lots of queer things in there," went on Dick musingly.
+
+"Sure; I just saw a whale," replied Harold sarcastically.
+
+"Did you? Your eyes must be pretty good," returned Dick, with a smile.
+"I dare say, though, I see something you don't."
+
+Harold viewed him suspiciously. Finally: "What?" he asked.
+
+"A sea-anemone."
+
+"A sea-what?"
+
+"Sea-anemone." Dick laughed. "I sea-anemone; what do you see?"
+
+"That's a punk joke!" scoffed Harold.
+
+"I'm not joking. I'll point him out to you. Lean over this way. See that
+purplish-brown thing on the side near the bottom? Looks like a flower,
+sort of. See?"
+
+"Sure! Is that it? It isn't a flower, though; it moves, don't it?"
+Harold was interested in spite of himself.
+
+"Yes, it moves, and it isn't a flower. It's a polyp. It's name is
+Metridium something or other; I forget the rest of it."
+
+"What's a polyp? An animal?"
+
+"Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge is."
+
+"Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!" derided the other.
+
+"Not exactly. Those things that move are little tentacles with which it
+feeds itself," said Dick, pointing again at the anemone.
+
+"What's it eat?" asked Harold curiously.
+
+"All sorts of animal matter that floats around in the water and that is
+so small we can't see it."
+
+Harold observed him suspiciously. "I don't believe it's alive at all,"
+he said presently. "It's just a sort of seaweed, and it moves because
+the water moves."
+
+"Think so?" asked Dick. "Then put your hand down there toward it and see
+what happens."
+
+"It won't--bite, will it?" asked Harold doubtfully.
+
+"No, but it will show you whether it's alive or not. You needn't touch
+it," he added, noting the other's hesitancy. "Just put your hand near it
+or disturb the water."
+
+Harold pulled his sleeve up and cautiously thrust an arm into the pool.
+"Gee!" he exclaimed. "It shut its mouth!"
+
+Dick laughed. "Doesn't look much like it did, does it?"
+
+"No; it's an ugly little thing now," responded the other. "Say, that's
+funny, isn't it? Guess it's alive, all right."
+
+"Yes; and it knows three things pretty well: It knows how to attach
+itself to the rocks, how to get food, and how to shut up shop when
+trouble brews."
+
+"What would it do if you took it out?"
+
+"Die. Besides, it's stuck on there so hard you'd have to pull it to
+pieces to get it off. I tried it once when I was a kid, and had to give
+it up."
+
+"I'd like to find a sea-urchin," said Harold. "I've got a lot of
+starfish and a horse-shoe crab and some razor-clam shells and two shark
+eggs. I guess I'll get that big starfish down there, too."
+
+"What's the use?" asked Dick. "It's just like those you've got. Let the
+old chap live and enjoy himself."
+
+"I'll get it if I want to," replied Harold. "Say, what did you follow me
+out here for, anyway?"
+
+"Because I told your mother I'd find you and send you to her. She's got
+something to say to you."
+
+"Sure! I suppose you went and told her a lot of lies about me."
+
+"You don't suppose anything of the sort," responded Dick quietly.
+
+"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid of her."
+
+"Of course not, but you want to do what she wishes, don't you?"
+
+"That's my business," replied the other ungraciously. "I do as I
+please."
+
+"Well, you're a lucky chap, then," said Dick pleasantly. "By the way,
+are you going to see the ball game Saturday?"
+
+"Yes, I guess so. That is"--with elaborate concern--"unless you don't
+want me to."
+
+"I was going to say that if you'll ask for me at the gate I'll pass you
+in, Harold."
+
+"Why, are they going to charge?"
+
+"Yes; twenty-five cents."
+
+"Gee, they've got a crust! Who'd pay twenty-five cents to see a lot of
+wooden-heads play ball?"
+
+"Well, we're hoping a lot will. Anyway, you won't have to. Just ask for
+me at the gate. I guess it will be a pretty good game. Do you like
+baseball?"
+
+"I suppose so."
+
+"Do you play?"
+
+"Sure! What do you think I am--a wooden Indian?"
+
+"That's good. They have a pretty good team at Rifle Point. Maybe you'll
+make it some day."
+
+"There isn't any maybe about it. I'm going to."
+
+"I hope so. Well, I must be getting back. You coming along? It must be
+very nearly lunch time."
+
+"No, I'm not," growled Harold. "I'll come when I'm ready."
+
+"All right. By the way, we won't have any lessons to-morrow. Nothing
+doing until Monday. Meanwhile you see if you can't get the better of
+that algebra, like a good fellow. So-long!"
+
+"Long!" muttered Harold.
+
+Dick pulled himself up and fixed his crutches and began the laborious
+task of climbing back up the rock and across to the beach. Fortunately
+his rubber tips held well, and he was soon at the top of the ledge. But
+there misfortune overtook him. Just what happened he couldn't have told,
+but the result he was very certain about. For one crutch flew out from
+under him, he spun half around on the other and fell backward, his head
+coming into violent contact with the granite ledge. For an instant he
+was too dazed to move. His head rang and buzzed like a bee-hive. In
+falling he must have cried out involuntarily, for almost before he had
+gathered his faculties together and made a move to get up he heard
+footsteps pattering on the rocks, and then the anxious voice of Harold
+Townsend:
+
+"Are you hurt, Lovering? What happened?"
+
+Harold ran to him, and bent over him with very genuine concern.
+
+"I--I'm all right, thanks," replied Dick, a trifle vaguely. "I fell.
+That rock is some hard, Harold!" He rubbed his head ruefully and
+grimaced as his hand came in contact with the swelling bruise. "Just
+give me a hand, will you? And kick that crutch this way, please."
+
+"Here's your crutch," said Harold, "but just you wait where you are a
+minute." He sped away down the slope of the rock, and Dick, with his
+head throbbing, for once could not but feel a qualm of envy. In a moment
+the younger boy was back. He had dipped his handkerchief in the water,
+and now he offered it a trifle shyly to Dick. "Put it on your head," he
+said gruffly. "It'll make it feel better."
+
+"Thanks, Harold." Dick applied the wet compress to the bump. "It was
+stupid of me to keel over like that," he said. "I don't know when I've
+fallen down before."
+
+"I should think you'd have lots of falls," replied Harold. "I think you
+get around mighty well, Lovering. How does it feel now?"
+
+"Better, thanks. Just sort of give me a boost, will you?"
+
+Harold assisting, Dick got to his feet, or, rather, his crutches, and,
+with the younger boy watching anxiously, went on down the ledge to the
+beach.
+
+"You needn't come unless you're ready to," said Dick. "I'll be all right
+now, Harold."
+
+"I guess I'll go, too," replied Harold carelessly. "It's most lunch
+time."
+
+They walked along in silence for a way, and then Dick asked: "Do you
+know who Caspar Billings has got to take Morris Brent's place on
+Saturday?"
+
+"Fellow named Jensen. Do you know him?"
+
+"No, I think not. Pretty good, is he?"
+
+"I guess so. Loring says he is. Say, Mason's going to pitch for us. Did
+you know that?"
+
+"Mason? Oh, he is the fellow who was to have played in the last game and
+didn't get here. Is he a wonder, Harold?"
+
+"Is he!" Harold chuckled. "You just wait and see. You fellows won't be
+able to touch him!"
+
+"As good as that, eh? By the way, who scores for your team?"
+
+"I don't know." Harold shrugged his shoulders. "Nobody, I guess. Why?"
+
+"I should think you'd like to do it."
+
+Harold considered. "I guess," he answered finally, "I don't know how
+well enough."
+
+"I can show you. You bring a book Saturday and sit by me, and I'll make
+a professional scorer of you in no time."
+
+"Too much trouble," replied the other indifferently.
+
+"It isn't trouble at all, Harold; it's fun. Better try it some time.
+It's a good thing to know."
+
+Presently Harold asked: "Why aren't you coming to-morrow?"
+
+"Because we haven't been getting on very well, Harold. I thought it
+might be a good idea for us to stop for a couple of days and think it
+over; see whether we want to go on with it or not, you know. If we
+decide that we do, we'll start all over again Monday and do the thing
+right."
+
+"Humph!" muttered Harold. "What did you tell my mother?"
+
+"Oh, just that I wasn't willing to go on and take her money without
+accomplishing something," replied Dick cheerfully. "I told her you could
+study as well as your brother if you wanted to----"
+
+"She's always beefing about Loring!" grumbled the boy.
+
+"And that if you didn't want to there wasn't much use in my coming.
+Well, I'll cut through here for the car. I'll see you Monday, Harold."
+
+"What about Saturday?" asked the other. "You said----"
+
+"Of course! Look me up, and bring your score-book."
+
+"Haven't any."
+
+"You can get one at Wadsworth's, on Common Street. Or I'll buy one for
+you, if you like."
+
+"You needn't. It's too much like work. So-long!"
+
+Dick returned to Clearfield more encouraged. If only Mrs. Townsend would
+do as she had agreed to, he believed that he could manage Harold and
+earn the money that was being paid him. He had about given up hope of
+finding more pupils, and so could ill afford to lose Harold. He
+certainly didn't want to, he reflected, but he would in an instant
+rather than make no better progress than he had been making.
+
+At practice that afternoon, Gordon told him that Morris had asked to see
+him, and Dick agreed to call at the Brents' for a few minutes before
+supper. Morris was pathetically glad to see the two boys and very loath
+to have them go again. Mrs. Brent looked in for a short time and Louise
+met them on their way out and thanked them for coming. She looked rather
+tired, and Gordon spoke of it.
+
+"It's been so hot to-day," she explained, "and I've been indoors a good
+deal since Morris was hurt. He can't read to himself yet, and so I have
+to do it for him. Of course, I'm very glad to, but it is hard work in a
+way. I wonder if either of you have any books he'd like. I've read about
+everything I can find."
+
+"I think I have," responded Dick. "I'll bring two or three over. I guess
+what Morris wants is a rattling good adventure story."
+
+"Yes; he's crazy to hear stories about ships and pirates and hidden
+treasure, you know. About the only other thing he cares about is the
+baseball news. I read that to him every morning, and I'm getting to be
+quite--quite learned."
+
+"I suppose," said Dick, "the doctor won't let you move him out to the
+Point yet."
+
+"He says we can go in about another two weeks. I think it will be much
+better for Morris. He's getting fearfully tired of that room up there.
+And it is hot, you know. Thank you both for coming, and do come again
+when you can. I guess it isn't much fun for you, but Morris looks
+forward to it all day."
+
+"She's a nice girl," commented Dick, as they passed through the gate.
+"Pretty, too."
+
+"She _is_ nice," agreed Gordon. "I guess when a fellow's laid up like
+that a sister's a pretty good thing to have around."
+
+"Yes," said Dick. And, after a moment, he added: "I'll find those books
+and take them around to-morrow morning."
+
+"I would," approved the other. "You're certain to find her in then."
+
+"Don't be a chump, Gordie! She's only a kid!"
+
+"She's as old as I am, except for a few months. And if you call me a kid
+I'll lick you."
+
+"If you do, I'll suspend you," replied Dick sternly.
+
+Gordon laughed. "I hope I'd get as much fun out of it as Jack is
+getting," he said. "He confided to me to-day that you were a fine
+manager. 'I tell you, Gordon,' he said, 'a manager's got to have plenty
+of discipline!' If you could only fire Jack for good and all, he'd love
+you like a brother, Dick!"
+
+"I sort of wish we were going to have him in the game Saturday," said
+Dick. "We'll miss his batting, I guess."
+
+"I wonder if this fellow Mason is as good as they seem to think him.
+Anyone know where he comes from?"
+
+"I didn't ask. He's probably better than Porter, though. I have a
+feeling that we're due to get the short end of the score day after
+to-morrow."
+
+"I wouldn't be surprised. I hope to goodness Harry can play. If he is
+out of it, we will be in a mess!"
+
+"How is Tom getting on with his shingling or painting or whatever it is
+he's doing?"
+
+"I don't know. Why?"
+
+"Well, it would be a good thing if he could come out and practice a
+little more. It's too bad we can't find another fellow to help out with
+the pitching, Gordie. If Tom got sick we'd be in a fix."
+
+"We surely would! But I don't believe Tom was ever sick in his life.
+Anyway, he was pretty fit to-day. I caught him for a few minutes, and he
+had everything there is."
+
+Dick smiled. "Tom has just three balls, Gordie: an out, a pretty good
+drop, and a fast one that's a peach. That's all he needs, though. If he
+mixes them up right he can get by. But we've got to find our batting eye
+Saturday if we're to win. How about the line-up? Think we'd better
+change it?"
+
+"Yes, I do. This fellow Shores had better follow Lanny, don't you think?
+He seems to think he can bat, but he didn't connect with much
+yesterday."
+
+"Maybe he was embarrassed," suggested Dick, with a smile.
+
+"Embarrassed!" said Gordon. "Yes, about as much embarrassed as a
+bull-pup! Maybe he will do better in a game, though. Well, so-long,
+Dick. I'll have to hustle or I'll be late for supper."
+
+"Coming around to-night?"
+
+"I don't believe so. I told Lanny I'd go over there. See you to-morrow,
+though."
+
+"Come over in the morning, will you? I'm not going out to the Point
+to-morrow."
+
+"You're not? You haven't quit, have you?"
+
+"No, not yet. I'm giving Harold a day or two to think over his sins.
+Good-night."
+
+"I say, Dick, don't forget your call."
+
+"What call?" asked Dick, from the end of the hedge.
+
+"Why, on Miss Brent!"
+
+"You'll sit on the bench if you're not careful," laughed Dick.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVI
+
+DICK SCORES A DEFEAT
+
+
+"Well, what do you know about that!" ejaculated Fudge awedly. He and
+Lanny were approaching the athletic field at a little after two on
+Saturday. Ahead of them, as they turned the corner, was a group of some
+fifty or sixty persons, mostly boys and young men, and they were quite
+evidently waiting for the gate to open.
+
+"And it isn't half-past two yet," said Lanny. "Looks as if we were going
+to have an audience, after all, Fudge."
+
+"Bet you they don't know they have to pay a quarter," responded the
+other pessimistically.
+
+"Then they're blind, because there's a notice right beside the gate
+there."
+
+"Someone ought to find Tim and get him here," said Fudge anxiously.
+"They might change their minds and go away again!"
+
+"What time is he supposed to get here?"
+
+"I don't know. Half-past, I suppose." They passed through a smaller gate
+which led to the dressing-room and found Dick and Gordon already on
+hand. Fudge told his fears to Dick, and Dick reassured him by agreeing
+to take the gate himself until young Mr. Turner appeared. Five minutes
+later the first two or three rows of the grandstand were occupied, and
+spectators were still dribbling through the gate and depositing quarters
+in Dick's hand. Tim Turner arrived breathless soon after and relieved
+Dick. Some thirty Rutter's Point residents accompanied their team and
+still further swelled the audience, and by three o'clock Dick estimated
+that fully a hundred and sixty persons had paid admission. That was much
+better than anyone had dared hope, and Lanny, making a lightning
+calculation, confided to Gordon that there'd be thirty dollars coming to
+the club after Rutter's Point had received the twenty-five per cent.
+agreed on.
+
+"If we can do that often enough," said Lanny delightedly, "we'll have
+more than enough for----"
+
+"S-sh!" cautioned Gordon.
+
+"He's over there talking to Billings. Who is the kid with him?"
+
+"That's young Townsend, the fellow he's coaching. It's about time to
+start, isn't it? There come three more, Lanny."
+
+"Every little quarter helps," replied Lanny. "I hope Tim Turner doesn't
+abscond with the cash! Someone ought to stand over him with a bat! Oh,
+Fudge!"
+
+"What's wanted?" asked Fudge, joining them.
+
+"We wanted to tell you that if Tim runs off with the money you will have
+to make good."
+
+Fudge grinned. "He's awfully excited," he said. "He's got both pockets
+full of silver, and sounds like a treasury when he moves. He's terribly
+worried because he gave one fellow too much change. He says he knows
+him, though, and is going to get it back!"
+
+"Come on," said Gordon. "On the run, fellows. You're in right field,
+Shores. Throw out another ball, Jack, will you? Here you are, Harry!"
+
+A minute later Captain Billings faced Tom Haley, and the game began.
+
+The batting list of the visiting team had been changed in two instances,
+Jensen replacing Morris Brent in left field, and Mason pitching instead
+of Porter. Melville, or "Mel," Mason was a big youth of eighteen at
+least, with a quiet, self-constrained manner that impressed Dick and
+filled him with forebodings of defeat. Clearfield was minus the services
+of Jack Tappen, Mr. Daniel Shores making his first appearance in a
+purple uniform and holding down Jack's place in right field. The umpire
+was Mr. Cochran, physical director at the Young Men's Christian
+Association, and a great favorite among the boys.
+
+Rutter's Point failed to do anything in the first inning. Tom Haley
+allowed only one player to reach first, and he got no farther. When
+Clearfield came to the bat, with Harry Bryan up, the audience proved its
+loyalty to the home team by loud and prolonged cheering. It was very
+soon evidenced that "Mel" Mason was in a different class from Bede
+Porter as a pitcher. Who he was or where he came from neither Dick nor
+Gordon had learned; but, to use Fudge's admiring and slightly resentful
+expression, he was "some pitchist!" He had plenty of speed when he cared
+to use it, but his favorite offering was a slow ball that was probably
+patterned on the "floater" of a famous league pitcher. The Clearfield
+batters hit under it or over it with discouraging regularity, and Harry,
+Will, and Gordon went out in order in the last of the first inning, only
+Will managing to hit into fair territory. Harry and Gordon fanned.
+
+For three innings the contest was a pitchers' battle. Tom was in
+excellent shape, and, although he secured fewer strike-outs than his
+rival, managed to hold his own with the assistance of sharp fielding by
+his team-mates. If there were those among the spectators who had come to
+scoff at the kind of ball they were to see they must have been
+surprised, for both teams played a practically errorless game until the
+beginning of the fourth. And even after that, if there were frequent
+miscues, there was enough excitement and suspense to make up for them.
+
+It was Jensen, the chap who had taken Morris' place, who started things
+going in the fourth. Loring Townsend had flied out to Pete Robey, making
+the first out. With two strikes and one ball on him, Jensen reached for
+an out-shoot, found it on the end of his bat, and deposited it neatly
+behind Gordon and close to the foul-line. Chase, the Point shortstop,
+tried twice to bunt, and then hit sharply past Pete, and Jensen went to
+third. House was over-anxious and went out on strikes, and Chase got to
+second. Then Leary waited and got his base. With the bags all occupied
+and two men down, it was up to "Pink" Northrop to come to the rescue
+with a hit. The Point coachers were jumping and shouting like mad, and
+Tom might have been excused for some unsteadiness at that juncture. But
+Tom settled down, followed Lanny's signals closely, and at last, after
+working two strikes over on Northrop, caused that youth to hit weakly to
+third. Will Scott almost overthrew the base in his eagerness, but Gordon
+pulled the ball down in time and the crisis was over.
+
+Gordon went out, shortstop to first; Way lifted a high one to second
+baseman, and Pete Robey faced Mason with little expectation of faring
+any better. But Mason let up for a minute, probably arguing that with
+two gone he could afford to take things easy, and Pete shot a hot liner
+at third baseman. Caspar Billings got his hands on it, but it trickled
+past him, and Pete was safe. That doubtful error--Dick charitably scored
+it as a hit--seemed the signal for the Point to go up in the air. Mason
+whipped a quick throw to first which would have caught Pete flat-footed
+off the bag had Loring Townsend been ready for it. He wasn't, however,
+and the ball went past him to the fence, and Pete, finding his feet
+quickly, shot to second and then on to third, beating out the throw by a
+fraction of an inch and causing dissatisfaction among the Pointers over
+Mr. Cochran's decision. Lanny, impatiently waiting at the plate, swung
+twice in his eagerness to score the runner, and then waited while Mason
+teased him with wide ones. With two strikes and two balls against him,
+Lanny out-guessed the pitcher, and swung against the next one. Shortstop
+knocked it down but couldn't find it again in time to throw either to
+the plate or to first, and Clearfield, amidst the excited whooping of
+the audience, scored her first tally.
+
+Lanny went down to second on the first pitch, and, although Houghton
+threw quickly and well to that bag, Lanny beat him by a yard. Danny
+Shores, who was at bat, had swung and was one strike to the bad when
+Mason grimly turned his attention to him again. Quite a few of Danny's
+friends from the factory were on hand to see him perform, and when,
+after the third delivery, he caught the ball squarely on the nose and
+sent it streaking just over second baseman's head, they shouted
+themselves hoarse in Danny's honor. On the bench, Jack Tappen looked a
+bit glum. He had visions of being displaced by Mr. Shores. Lanny came in
+without hurrying much, and Danny reposed on first. Fudge tried to do his
+share of a hit-and-run play, but he swung far wide of the deceptive
+drop, and Danny was caught at second and the inning was over, with
+Clearfield two runs to the good.
+
+Enthusiasm reigned among the spectators on the stand, and they "rooted"
+valiantly for Clearfield throughout the rest of the game. In the fifth
+the Point got two men on bases, and was in good position to score, there
+being but one out, when Pete Robey pulled down a liner that had been
+distinctly labeled "two bases," raced to second ahead of the runner, and
+then completed the double by making a fine throw to Gordon. Mason struck
+out Tom easily in the last of the fifth, passed Harry Bryan, fanned Will
+Scott, and then, with Gordon at bat, caught Harry off first.
+
+Every play was loudly applauded, and the audience was by this time
+perched on the edges of the seats. Again in their half of the sixth
+Rutter's Point found Tom for two hits, and again sharp fielding kept her
+from crossing the plate. It was evident, though, that Tom was less of a
+puzzle now than in the earlier innings, and it seemed only a matter of
+time when the Pointers would bunch their hits and Dick would have to
+credit them with a run or two. You are not to suppose that Dick was
+doing nothing but keeping the score. He was managing that game from the
+bench as scientifically as if he had played the game all his short life.
+Every batsman got his orders from Dick before he stepped to the plate,
+and every coacher was instructed before he went to the box. And, besides
+that, Dick was teaching Harold Townsend how to score a ball game. In
+spite of his indifference two days before, Harold had appeared with a
+brand-new, black-covered score-book and a fountain pen. Dick had told
+him to put the pen in his pocket, and had supplied him with a pencil
+instead. Harold seated himself by Dick and watched and learned. He made
+more mistakes than enough, and his score when finished was a veritable
+hodge-podge of misinformation, but he seemed to get a lot of excitement
+and fun out of it, and he really did learn a good deal for a boy who had
+theretofore scored an out by placing a huge X opposite the batsman and a
+run by marking up an equally enormous I. When he began to memorize the
+symbols for struck out, base on balls, hit by pitched ball, and so on,
+he discovered that scoring was not the simple task he had thought it.
+About the sixth inning he gave up trying to keep a detailed score, and
+contented himself with disposing of the batsmen with his X's and I's.
+But by that time the excitement had grown so intense that it would have
+required a person with a much cooler head than Harold's to keep his mind
+on scoring.
+
+Clearfield went to bat in the sixth with the grim determination to add
+another brace of runs to her score and place the game safely away. Dick
+realized that Tom was weakening, and that before long the visitors would
+find him for some real hits, and before that occurred he wanted
+Clearfield to have a sufficient lead to place her out of danger. Gordon
+had his instructions to reach first at any cost. Then Way, who was a
+clever bunter, was to sacrifice him to second. Either Pete or Lanny was
+to supply the hit to score Gordon. But plans don't always carry through.
+Dick's didn't on this occasion. Gordon hit squarely into Mason's hands,
+and the pitcher tossed the ball nonchalantly to first for the out. Way
+bunted down the first-base line, and managed to beat out the throw. Pete
+flied to center field, and Way was held on first. With two down the
+inning should have been as good as over, but Fate took a hand and
+prolonged it until the bases were filled, and Dick, watching intently
+from the bench, dared to hope that Fudge might for once do the
+impossible. Mason had passed Lanny on purpose, forcing Way to second.
+Then Danny Shores had come through with a mild wallop down third-base
+line. Caspar had only to touch the base to retire the side, but his wits
+must have been wool-gathering, for, after gathering in the ball on the
+bound five feet away from the bag, he paid no attention to Way, dashing
+past him hardly out of arm's length, but hurled the ball across to
+first. Perhaps Loring Townsend was too surprised to realize what was
+required of him. At all events, the ball dropped out of his glove, and
+Mr. Cochran, who had already motioned Danny out, had to reverse his
+decision.
+
+And so the stage was set when Fudge seized his favorite bat and manfully
+stalked to the plate, resolved to do or die. Fudge was right in the
+midst of a baseball romance at that time, and only the night before,
+writing with his foolscap propped up on his knees in bed, he had
+described how his hero, despised and ridiculed by his school-mates, had
+gone to the bat in the last of the ninth and, even while the crowds
+turned disappointedly away from the field, had out-guessed the marvelous
+pitcher of the rival school and with one mighty stroke of his faithful
+bat had turned defeat into victory by driving out a home-run and scoring
+the men on bases. Fudge recalled that as he gripped his bat and faced
+Mason, trying hard to appear nonchalant and undismayed. He wondered
+whether things ever happened in real life as they did in stories.
+Somehow that brilliant deed of his hero seemed horribly improbable
+to-day. Fudge determined to tone it down a little that evening. A
+two-bagger would answer the purpose just as well, and would certainly
+sound more plausible.
+
+Dick's voice from the bench reached him as Mason, after glancing over
+the bases, wound up. "Make him pitch to you, Fudge! It only takes one!"
+Back and forth from behind first and third the cries of Harry Bryan and
+Gordon rattled. Fudge gripped his bat tighter yet and glued his eyes to
+the upraised hands of Mel Mason. Then the ball, a particularly dirty
+one, streaked toward him; Fudge's heart beat loudly and he stepped
+nimbly out of the way, only to hear the fell verdict: "Strike!"
+
+Fudge looked reproachfully at Mr. Cochran, sighed, and again faced the
+pitcher. That ball had come well across the inner corner of the plate,
+and Fudge determined that Mason shouldn't fool him a second time with
+that particular kind of a delivery. So when the next ball shot forward
+apparently coming the same way Fudge held his ground scornfully and
+prepared to swing his bat. But the next instant he had forgotten all
+about swinging and was sitting on the ground with both hands clasped to
+his ribs and an expression of pained surprise on his face. When he had
+regained his breath and the use of his legs, Fudge thought that the joy
+of his team-mates was very ill-considered. It seemed nothing to them
+that he had narrowly escaped death at the hands of an infuriated
+baseball; they only shouted and jumped about because a run had been
+forced in!
+
+Fudge walked painfully to first, reflecting how differently his hero
+would have performed. There was something distinctly humiliating to
+Fudge in gaining his base in such a manner, and so deeply did he feel
+the humiliation that he quite forgot to heed the warnings of Gordon,
+coaching behind the base, and was surprised to have Loring Townsend,
+without any provocation, punch him forcibly in exactly the spot that
+Mason's in-shoot had collided with. That was too much for Fudge. The
+pain brought tears to his eyes and wrath to his heart. He sprang upon
+the first baseman with clenched fists, and only Gordon's prompt
+interference prevented trouble. Gordon haled Fudge away, patiently
+explaining that Loring had tagged him with the ball while he had been
+apparently fast asleep a yard off the base. The explanation, however,
+was not entirely satisfactory to Fudge.
+
+"What of it? He didn't have to punch me in the ribs as hard as he knew
+how, did he?" demanded Fudge angrily. "What kind of a way is that to
+play ball?"
+
+"Shut up, Fudge!" said Gordon exasperatedly. "Why the dickens weren't
+you watching the pitcher? What's the good of getting hit if you get put
+out the next minute?"
+
+"Good of it!" exclaimed Fudge. "Good of it! There isn't any good of it!
+I just wish he'd lammed you in the ribs the way he did me! Good of it!"
+And Fudge, still muttering, wandered disgustedly out to center field,
+one hand pressed to his side.
+
+The seventh inning passed uneventfully. Tom had small difficulty with
+the last three men on the Point batting-list, and Mason disposed of Tom
+Haley and Harry Bryan with five balls apiece, and caused Will Scott to
+pop up a foul to first baseman. So the eighth inning started and Dick
+began to breathe easier, and the Clearfield sympathizers were jubilant.
+After all, three runs was a good lead, and even if the Point got to
+batting Tom in the next two innings, surely Clearfield could stop them
+short of three tallies. Thus argued Dick, and said as much to Harold,
+who, to-day, at least, was divided in his sympathies. Harold, having
+predicted great things of Mason, was a bit disgruntled with that youth,
+and expressed the wish once that Clearfield would wallop him out of the
+box. But when Dick voiced his belief that the game was pretty safe
+Harold took exception.
+
+"You wait," he said darkly. "Here comes Loring up. He hasn't done
+anything yet, and he's just bound to. And if he gets on Gil Chase will
+send him home. You wait!"
+
+Loring Townsend let two balls go by, failed to size up the third
+delivery as a strike, and swung unsuccessfully at the next. With the
+score two and two, Tom sped a straight one over and Loring met it with
+his bat and set out for first. He didn't run very fast, though, for the
+hit was a weak one and was bounding straight at Will Scott at third. But
+Will made a mess of that play. He got the ball, dropped it, found it
+again and threw hurriedly across the diamond. Gordon leaped into the
+air, just managed to tip the ball with his fingers, and then dashed off
+on a chase for it as it rolled toward the fence. When the shouting had
+died away, Loring was on second, Al Jensen was swinging his bat eagerly
+and impatiently, and Harold had dropped his score-book between his feet
+and didn't know it!
+
+That was a disastrous inning for Clearfield. Tom managed to strike out
+Jensen after that player had knocked six fouls into various parts of the
+field, and managed, too, to hold Loring on second. But when Gil Chase
+got the signal from first and trickled the ball into the pitcher's box
+while Loring sped to third, Tom, with plenty of time to make the out at
+first, tossed the ball six feet over Gordon's head and Loring slid home
+with the first run for the Point, while Chase got to second.
+
+Then Tom had his troubles. His misplay had taken his nerve, and for a
+while he went thoroughly to pieces. Eight batsmen faced him in that
+inning, and four hits, for a total of six bases, and five runs were made
+off him before he finally managed to strike out Mason. When that inning
+was over the game had a different complexion. Instead of being three
+runs ahead, with the prospect of winning a shut-out, Clearfield was two
+tallies behind, and defeat stared her in the face.
+
+The home team returned determinedly to the fray, but Mason was
+impregnable. In the last of the eighth not a man saw first and only four
+players faced him. In the first of the ninth, Rutter's Point again
+started things with a whoop when Caspar Billings, first up, singled into
+left field, took second on Townsend's sacrifice, and was advanced to
+third when Jensen hit past Will Scott. Then Jensen was caught off first
+and House flied out to Shores.
+
+I would like to tell how Clearfield went to bat in the last half of that
+final inning and pounded Mason for enough hits to win the game. But as
+this isn't one of Fudge's romances I can't do anything of the sort. As a
+matter of regrettable fact, Clearfield stood up to the plate and watched
+Mason's "floaters" waft past them and listened to the fateful voice of
+the umpire calling strikes. Mason ended the day in a blaze of glory,
+striking out three men in order and sending his team off the field
+victors by the score of 5 to 3.
+
+Harold Townsend, slapping his score-book shut, grinned at Dick as the
+last man went out. "What did I tell you?" he asked gleefully. "Say, you
+fellows can't play ball for shucks, Lovering!"
+
+Dick smiled imperturbably. He had the ability to smile in the face of
+disaster, had Dick.
+
+"We'll try you again some day," he answered. "Good-bye, Harold. See you
+Monday."
+
+"I may not be home," replied Harold airily.
+
+But when Dick was accompanying his team-mates toward the dressing-room a
+minute or two later, he felt a hand on his arm and looked around to find
+that Harold had followed him.
+
+"Say, Lovering, I--I'm sorry your team got beaten. And thanks for
+showing me about scoring, you know."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVII
+
+HAROLD MAKES A PROMISE
+
+
+The Clearfield _Reporter_ was quite enthusiastic over the game in its
+Monday's issue. There had been, it declared, for some time a demand for
+a baseball team to represent the city, a demand which had now been
+satisfied in the recent formation of the club which had given such a
+good account of itself on Saturday. It was to be hoped that the
+organization would prosper and receive the support of the many lovers of
+clean sport residing in the town. The _Reporter_ gave the game almost
+play by play, indulging in a wealth of baseball slang and metaphor
+worthy of a metropolitan journal. It was quite evident that the writer
+had thoroughly enjoyed his task. He dealt out praise lavishly and was
+especially complimentary to the Rutter's Point pitcher, who, it seemed,
+had struck out ten batsmen besides fielding his position perfectly.
+Incidentally the _Reporter_ provided the information that the Clearfield
+players had failed to obtain.
+
+"Melville Mason," said the paper, "gives every promise of becoming a
+top-notch twirler, and there is no doubt a berth awaiting him in one of
+the big league teams if he wants it. He has been playing ball for six
+years, and last season was second-choice pitcher on the Erskine College
+team. He is nineteen years of age. The Rutter's Point team is to be
+congratulated on securing the services of so accomplished a player. We
+are assured by Captain Billings that Mr. Mason receives no salary."
+("Bet you he's having his expenses paid, though," commented Gordon, when
+he and Dick read the _Reporter_ that morning.) "We trust," concluded the
+_Reporter_, "that a third and determining game will be arranged between
+Saturday's adversaries and that it will be played on the local grounds,
+where, doubtless, a large audience will be on hand to enjoy it."
+
+"That isn't a bad idea," said Lanny. "We took in forty-three dollars
+Saturday. I dare say we could do even better the next time. And I don't
+believe but what the Pointers would be willing to play here if they got
+their twenty-five per cent. again."
+
+"We might offer them a third of the receipts," suggested Gordon.
+
+Dick looked puzzled. "You fellows are frightfully keen on the financial
+end of it, seems to me," he said. "What's the idea, Lanny? What are we
+going to do with the money we get, anyway? We can't buy balls with all
+of it."
+
+"Well, there's no harm in having it," replied Lanny evasively. "You
+never know when you'll need money."
+
+"I know when I need it," said Dick grimly. "That's most of the time."
+
+"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to sound Billings," said Gordon. "You might
+tell him we'd like to play a deciding game, and that--er--that as
+Clearfield is interested in the series it would perhaps be best to play
+here. If Billings kicked, you could offer him a third. I dare say we'd
+get a couple of hundred people easily for the next game, and that would
+give the Point something like seventeen dollars."
+
+"I don't believe they're as much on the make as you Shylocks," objected
+Dick. "Still, I'll talk it over with him some day. Perhaps, though, it
+would be better to wait and see if they won't propose the game
+themselves. Then we'd be in a better position to make conditions."
+
+"Isn't he the nifty old diplomat?" asked Lanny admiringly.
+
+"A regular fox," agreed Gordon. "Work it your own way, Dick."
+
+"We can't play them for about three weeks, anyway," said Dick. "We're
+filled up with games until the third of September. I got a letter from
+Tyson over in Springdale this morning. He says they'll play us there a
+week from next Saturday if we'll come over. What do you say?"
+
+"I say yes, by all means," replied Gordon, with enthusiasm. "And I guess
+we're all eager to have another try at those chaps after what they did
+to us in June."
+
+"Well, it won't be quite the same team, Tyson says, and they're calling
+themselves the Independents."
+
+"We'll call them down," laughed Lanny. "We play Logan the day after
+to-morrow, don't we?"
+
+"Yes, and that reminds me that I must see to getting notices printed and
+sent around. I wish you'd do that, Gordon. I've got to go out to the
+Point in half an hour. I'll write out the copy and all you'll have to do
+is to take it down to the printers. They'll strike them right off and
+distribute them for us this afternoon."
+
+"All right. I'll go there first thing. I'm going to see Morris for a few
+minutes this morning. Any little message I can take from you, Dick?"
+
+"Message? No, not that I know of. Tell him I hope he will hurry up and
+get well again."
+
+"Of course, but--ah!--is there any other member of the family----"
+
+"Oh, you run away!" laughed Dick.
+
+If Dick expected to find a chastened and much reformed pupil at the
+Point that Monday morning, he was doomed to disappointment. He gathered
+from a remark that the boy let fall that Mrs. Townsend had kept her
+promise to speak to him, but Dick doubted if she had accomplished much.
+And yet there was improvement visible. Harold had actually mastered two
+of the four lessons and Dick gathered some encouragement.
+
+"I guess we won't go on with this," he said toward the end of the
+period. "You haven't studied it, Harold. We'll take it over to-morrow.
+How did you like the game Saturday?"
+
+"Oh, pretty well! You fellows going to play us again?"
+
+"Maybe, some day. We play Logan Wednesday. Do you care to come over and
+see it? We might have another lesson in scoring."
+
+"I guess so. We're going to play a team from Bay Harbor on Saturday.
+Say, Loring says if I'll learn to score, I can be official scorer for
+the team. I guess I'll do it."
+
+"Fine! Then you come over Wednesday, and we'll try it again. You did
+very well the other day."
+
+"Did I really? Gee, but there's a lot to put down, isn't there? Caspar's
+got six games arranged for the team. Loring says if I'm scorer they'll
+take me with them when they go away to play."
+
+That was really no news to Dick, since it was at his suggestion that
+Loring had made the offer. But he pretended to be surprised and
+interested, and said all he could to encourage Harold to learn to score.
+And Harold became so enthusiastic that he walked over to the trolley car
+with Dick, talking volubly all the way.
+
+"I wish you'd make a real try at those lessons to-day, Harold," Dick
+said, at parting. "Won't you?"
+
+Harold grinned noncommittingly.
+
+But the next morning he went through with flying colors, and when Dick
+complimented him he laughed. "Gee, I can get that stuff all right if I
+want to," he said carelessly. "It's easy."
+
+"Why don't you, then?"
+
+"Aw, what's the use? I'd rather play around, anyway."
+
+"Don't you want to go to Rifle Point, Harold?"
+
+"I guess so. I don't care much. If I do, Loring will be always bossing
+me about. I'd rather go somewhere else, I guess."
+
+"Loring's being there will make things easier for you," said Dick. "I
+fancy he's pretty well liked and the fellows will be nice to you on his
+account. But I'll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won't get to
+Rifle Point this Fall."
+
+Harold opened his eyes widely. "I won't?" he exclaimed.
+
+"Certainly not. And you won't get there next Fall unless you buckle down
+and learn something."
+
+"Loring said I could!"
+
+"Loring probably thought you were more advanced than you are, then,"
+replied Dick. "I'm sorry, Harold; but facts are facts."
+
+"Then what'll I do this Winter?" asked the boy lugubriously.
+
+"How about another year where you were?"
+
+"I won't! I hate that place! I won't go back there, no matter what
+anyone says!"
+
+"Then you might have a tutor."
+
+That suggestion didn't seem to make much of a hit. Harold scowled for a
+minute in silence. Then: "Don't you think I could get in this Fall,
+Lovering, if--if I studied hard?"
+
+Dick hesitated.
+
+"I'm entered, you know," pleaded Harold. "I should think I might,
+Lovering."
+
+"Yes, you might," returned Dick grimly, "but it would mean studying a
+good deal differently than the way you've been studying, Harold. It
+would mean getting your nose right down into the books, putting your
+whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime. Think you could do
+that?"
+
+It was Harold's turn to hesitate. Finally, though, he nodded.
+
+"Well, do you think you _would_ do it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Sure, if--if you'll help me!"
+
+"I'll help you, all right, Harold. But there must be no changing your
+mind about it later. If we start this thing, we're going to keep it up.
+If you'll work honestly and do the very best you know how, I'll get you
+so you can pass the exams this Fall. What do you say? Is it a bargain?"
+
+"You bet!" said Harold.
+
+"All right. Hand me those books, please." Dick turned the pages and made
+new marks on the margins of them. "There; we'll start off with eight
+pages instead of four, Harold. We've got to pretty nearly break all
+existing records, I guess."
+
+Harold whistled softly. "Gee!" he murmured. "Eight pages of that stuff!"
+Dick looked across inquiringly. Harold squared his shoulders with the
+suggestion of a swagger. "Oh, I'll do it, all right!" he said. "You just
+watch me!"
+
+Wednesday's game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic
+field than had the Saturday contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets
+of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received
+only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was
+one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan
+pitchers--she used two of them--were easy for the home-team batsmen,
+while Tom Haley was hit safely but thrice. Two of Logan's runs resulted
+from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender,
+and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an
+atrocious throw to second.
+
+On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone after breakfast. It was
+Louise Brent at the other end of the line, and Louise informed him that
+Morris wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. "It's something
+about the automobile," explained Louise. "There's a man here to look at
+it, Gordon."
+
+Gordon promised to go right over, and did so. What passed in the sick
+chamber is not to be set down here, but later Gordon went out to the
+stable and stood around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge on the
+end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically and grunted
+at intervals. Finally:
+
+"About fifty dollars will do it," he said, in a sad tone of voice.
+"There'll have to be new spokes set in that wheel, and them fenders'll
+have to be straightened out again, and it'll need a new lamp and the
+radiator's sprung and likely leaks and----"
+
+"Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?" asked Gordon.
+
+"I don't know how good it was when it was new," responded the man
+dolefully. "But fifty dollars'll fix it up in good shape, likely."
+
+"All right. I'll tell him, and he will let you know. Could you start on
+it right away?"
+
+"Likely I could. I'd have to haul it down to my place, though."
+
+"How long would it take?"
+
+"Two or three weeks, likely."
+
+"All right. Much obliged. We'll let you know for certain to-morrow.
+Fifty dollars is the cheapest you could do it for?"
+
+"Well"--the man scratched his head reflectively--"maybe I could do it
+for forty-five, if I didn't find anything else the matter with it.
+Likely there ain't."
+
+They called him "Mr. Likely" during the following three weeks, for which
+period of time the runabout was in his care. Mr. Likely was a born
+pessimist, and about every two days he called up the Brents' house to
+inform whoever answered the telephone that "that wheel's a lot worse'n I
+thought it was, and'll likely have to have a new rim," or "I got to send
+out West for a new lamp, and it'll likely take two weeks or more." But,
+to anticipate, Mr. Likely made a good job of it, and in the course of
+time the blue runabout was returned to the Brents' stable, shining and
+polished like a brand-new car. By that time the family had moved out to
+the cottage at the Point, and it was Gordon who saw the automobile run
+into the carriage-room under its own power and who locked the door
+afterward and pocketed the key.
+
+Morris' leg had knitted so well by the time Clearfield played Springdale
+that he was allowed to make the trip to the neighboring town in a
+carriage and witnessed the contest from a position far more comfortable
+than the sun-smitten boards of the grandstand. That was a pretty good
+game to watch, too. There was plenty of hitting on both sides, enough
+errors to add interest, and several rattling good plays. The game was in
+doubt until the last inning, when Clearfield, with a one-run margin,
+trotted into the field to do her best to hold the home team scoreless.
+Tom Haley had been touched up for eight or nine hits--Dick and Harold
+made it eight, but the Springdale scorer insisted on nine--and, as luck
+would have it, the head of the local batting list was up when the last
+of the ninth began. But Tom and Lanny worked together finely, and,
+although one runner got as far as second, the game ended with a
+spectacular catch by Fudge in deep center, and Clearfield went home with
+the ball. The final score was 7 to 6, and Clearfield derived a lot of
+satisfaction from that victory.
+
+The Saturday before she had played Locust Valley, and had been pretty
+badly defeated, and the following Wednesday she had barely pulled out of
+the game against Corwin with a victory. Corwin had journeyed to
+Clearfield for the contest and the club treasury had had another
+twenty-odd dollars added to it. What puzzled Manager Dick Lovering those
+days was the interest displayed by the whole team in the condition of
+the exchequer. It seemed to Dick that every fellow was showing a
+strangely commercial spirit.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+THE LIVE WIRES
+
+
+The matter of a new athletic field dragged. Two more meetings had been
+held by the committee, and several trips of inspection had been made to
+near-by fields, but no decision had been reached. In the meanwhile, the
+surveyors had shown activity and had run lines through the old field and
+even demolished a section of the fence. It was a question whether the
+team would be able to use the diamond much longer, although inquiries
+failed to elicit any definite information from the men who were doing
+the surveying. The football enthusiasts were becoming impatient. The
+prospect of having no better place to hold practice the next month than
+an empty lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad didn't please
+them, and they demanded action.
+
+Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, the principal, had left Clearfield on his
+summer vacation, and several other members of the High School faculty
+were also out of town, and the committee showed a disposition to await
+their return. The hope was several times expressed that, since Mr. Brent
+had done nothing with the field so far, he might postpone cutting it up
+until next year. But when the surveyors got to work that hope seemed
+idle, and at last a public meeting was called at which the Athletic
+Committee was to make a report and recommend the leasing of what was
+known as Tilden's Meadow for a term of two years. The meadow was a mile
+from Clearfield and on the trolley route to Rutter's Point, and
+consisted of about fourteen acres of fairly level turf. Only sufficient
+space for a football field and diamond was to be used, and the rest of
+the land was to remain as at present. Mr. Tilden was to keep the grass
+cut in return for the hay and was to receive one hundred dollars a year.
+There was no question of having a running track, for the owner
+absolutely refused to allow one to be laid out, and that, at first
+glance, seemed a great objection to the project. But, as several of the
+committee pointed out, there was no money on hand to build a track even
+if Mr. Tilden would allow it. The plan was to make use of the Y. M. C.
+A. field, a small enclosure behind the Association's building on
+Lafayette Street, for training purposes, and hold the meets with
+Springdale at the latter's grounds until Clearfield could secure a track
+of its own.
+
+A piece of land sufficiently large for all athletic purposes was to be
+had across the river and fairly handy to the G Street Bridge, but it was
+next to the railroad tracks and the mills and the sentiment of the
+female members of the High School was strongly opposed to it. "It would
+be horrid!" they declared indignantly. "The smoke and soot from the
+engines and the mill chimneys would spoil our dresses and hats. And,
+besides, we'd have to walk a whole block through dust up to our
+shoe-tops!"
+
+In the face of such weighty opposition the committee gave way, and the
+North Side location was abandoned. Only Tilden's meadow remained then,
+and to that, too, there was much opposition. Many thought it too far
+from town; others pointed out that, since it was unfenced, there would
+be no way of keeping persons from witnessing games without paying, and
+still others dwelt on the lack of a track. The Athletic Committee was
+not to be envied.
+
+Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning. Dick had got into the
+habit lately of walking over to the Brents' in the morning before going
+out to the Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the car,
+although it is true that by retracing his steps two blocks he could get
+the trolley at B Street and consequently went only seven blocks out of
+his way. But seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is quite
+a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered by the interest in
+his recovery which led Dick so far afield four or five mornings a week.
+Dick began by taking books to Morris, but his library was soon
+exhausted, and after that he continued to call just the same. Of course
+he always saw Morris, and equally of course Louise appeared at some
+period of his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to have doubts
+as to being the chief attraction. At all events he very frequently left
+Dick for his sister to entertain and it wasn't apparent that Dick
+mourned his absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and
+sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should not have been quite
+satisfied with her company.
+
+On the morning in question, the morning of the Wednesday following the
+Springdale game, Morris had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to
+the gate and back and having his proposition declined, wandered away
+toward the tennis court, leaving Dick and Louise on the front steps,
+which, at nine o'clock in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had
+brought up the subject of the athletic field and both Morris and Louise
+had had their say. Morris, who was an ardent football enthusiast and
+played a good game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact that,
+with practice commencing in another three weeks or so, no place had been
+provided for it. Louise had reminded him gently that the doctor held out
+slight hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris had briefly
+and succinctly informed them that the doctor was an old granny and
+didn't know what he was talking about. When he had gone Louise said:
+
+"You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa not to take the field,
+but he wouldn't listen to us. He said the school could find another
+place to play on without trouble. He seems to think that all we need is
+a back yard or a vacant lot! I don't think papa ever saw a game of
+baseball or football in his life."
+
+"It is too bad that he has to cut that field up," replied Dick, "but I
+don't see any reason why he should consider us any. He's been very good
+to let us use it so long. And he's never charged us a penny, you know."
+
+"May Scott told me yesterday that her father had told her that the field
+might not be cut up after all. It seems that the mayor or whoever it is
+that has the say about such things doesn't want papa to put the street
+through there unless he builds it up to some grade or other. I don't
+understand about it. And papa doesn't want to do that."
+
+"Yes, I heard something of that sort. I believe the matter is to come up
+at a meeting this week. It's the board of aldermen, I think, who are
+against it. It seems that the city has established a new grade out there
+and the present grade is several feet below it. I suppose it means that
+your father would have to do a good deal of filling in if he put the
+street through. Otherwise the city wouldn't accept it."
+
+"It sounds awfully complicated to me," said Louise. "I just wish father
+would change his mind about it. I almost wish the--the aldermen would
+tell him he couldn't do it!"
+
+"Perhaps they will," laughed Dick. "But in that case your father would
+probably build to the new grade. So there isn't much hope, I fear. No, I
+guess it's up to us to move to new quarters. It's a queer thing that in
+a town of this size there isn't a place we can use."
+
+"I know. And that field they're talking about now is so hard to get to!
+Of course, there's the trolley, but it's been such fun to walk out to
+the games and have the field so near home. Your team plays a game this
+afternoon, doesn't it, Dick?"
+
+"A sort of a game. We're going to play a team called the Live Wires at
+four o'clock. They're fellows in the mills and I guess they haven't
+played together much. It'll be sort of a practice affair for us. Tom
+Haley can't play and Curtis Wayland is going to pitch for us. You
+haven't been to any of the games, have you?"
+
+"No one has asked me," she laughed. "Morris has been laid up and----"
+
+"Would you care to go Saturday? We play the Hemlock Camp fellows. I
+guess they have a pretty good team."
+
+"I'd love to!"
+
+"Then I----" Dick paused and frowned. "The trouble is," he went on
+apologetically, "I'll have to be on the bench a good deal of the time.
+Perhaps you'd rather not go."
+
+"I shouldn't mind. Just come and see me now and then, Dick."
+
+"Really? Then I'll get Gordon or one of the fellows to call for you
+about half-past two."
+
+"Indeed?" asked Louise coldly. "Why Gordon--or one of the fellows,
+please?"
+
+"Why--why--because," stammered Dick, "I thought probably you'd rather
+not--That is, I get along so slowly, you know----"
+
+"Dick Lovering, you were going to say you thought I wouldn't want to
+walk with you! Weren't you?"
+
+"Well, something of the sort. You see----"
+
+"No, I don't see at all," she responded with suspicious sweetness. "I
+shall be very glad to go to the game with you, Dick, but I refuse to be
+palmed off on 'Gordon or one of the fellows!'"
+
+"Then I'll be here for you at two-thirty, Louise. It isn't very far,
+after all; only three blocks, you know."
+
+"I ought to know," she said dryly, "since I can see the top of the
+grandstand this minute. I may decide, however, that I want to go by way
+of the Common, Dick."
+
+Dick smiled doubtfully. "We-ell, that's all right. I'm game! Now I guess
+I'd better be getting along."
+
+"The car just went in," said Louise. "You've got nearly a quarter of an
+hour yet. How are you getting along with your pupil?"
+
+"Finely! I tell him two or three times a week that we'll never be able
+to do it, and he doubles up his fists and glares at me and wants to
+fight--almost. He's an awfully stubborn little chap and he's simply made
+up his mind that he's going to get into school this Fall, and I think he
+will, too. He will if I can keep him mad!" And Dick, smiling, went
+swinging off to catch the car.
+
+That game with the Live Wires wasn't as easy for Clearfield as Dick and
+Gordon and most of the others expected it to be. Of course Way wasn't
+much of a pitcher, and that had to be reckoned with, but even allowing
+for that the Live Wires showed up a lot better than anticipated. From a
+financial standpoint the game was a huge success, in spite of the fact
+that the admission had been lowered to fifteen cents to entice the mill
+workers to attend. Attend they did, and "rooted" so lustily and
+incessantly for their team that poor Way was more than once up in the
+air. Young Tim Turner played in right field and Jack Tappen went over to
+left in place of Way. Tim didn't do so badly, since out of three chances
+he got two flies and only muffed the third because the crowd hooted so
+loudly.
+
+It was quite a tight game up to the fifth inning, with both pitchers
+suffering badly at the hands of the opposing batsmen and both infields
+guilty of many stupid errors. But in the fifth Clearfield landed on
+Kelly, the Live Wires' pitcher, and batted around before they were
+stopped, adding seven runs to the six already accumulated. In the
+seventh the opposing team returned the compliment and had Way dancing
+out of the path of liners and giving bases on the least provocation. But
+the infield steadied down then and only three runs came over for the
+Live Wires. The final score was fourteen to eight and Dick, who had
+acted as gateman in Tim's absence, turned over nearly seventeen dollars
+to himself as treasurer. So, on the whole, the game was a success.
+
+When Dick got home after the game his mother told him that a Mr. Potter,
+from the _Reporter_, had called to see him and would be back about
+eight. Gordon came over after supper and was still there when the
+representative of the newspaper repeated his call. Mr. Potter, a
+wide-awake, energetic young man of twenty-five or six years, professed
+his pleasure at finding Gordon on hand. "Because," he said as he took a
+chair in the Loverings' little parlor, "I want to talk about another
+game of ball between your team and the Point. I wrote the story of the
+last game, by the way. I don't know whether you saw it?"
+
+"Yes, we read it," said Dick. "It was awfully good, I thought."
+
+"I used to do that sort of stuff in Hartford. Well, say, fellows, how
+about another game? Anything doing along that line?"
+
+"Yes, we're to play the Point again later. There hasn't been any date
+set yet, though."
+
+"Well, that's good. I mean I'm glad you're going to get together again.
+Folks who saw that game enjoyed it. There's nothing like a game of ball
+to bring folks out and give them a good time. Now, Stevens--he's my boss
+on the _Reporter_, you know--Stevens wants to get up a rousing good game
+for the final one, see? You and what's-his-name out at the Point set a
+date; make it some Saturday, of course; and let me know and the
+_Reporter_ will whoop things up. How would it do if we got the retail
+tradesmen or someone to offer a prize? Say a silver cup or a phonograph
+or a set of books or something? What the _Reporter_ wants to do is to
+stir up some excitement; see? Get a big crowd there, have the Mayor
+throw out the ball, get folks pulling for the home team and all that
+sort of thing. Great scheme, eh? What do you fellows think?"
+
+The boys looked both doubtful and perplexed.
+
+"Why, I don't know, Mr. Potter, that we want to make a--a Roman holiday
+of it," objected Dick. "We started up the team just to have some fun,
+you see."
+
+"Well, you'll have your fun, won't you?" asked the newspaper man
+eagerly. "Don't mind winning a prize and making a little money, too, do
+you? Look here, fellows, I'm keen on this. I want to make it go. To tell
+the truth, it was my idea. I put it up to Stevens and he fell for it.
+This town needs livening up. Say, honest, we could have the finest sort
+of a hullabaloo without half trying!"
+
+"I don't see why not, Dick," observed Gordon, thinking a good deal of
+the money side of the project.
+
+Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds sort of like a four-ring circus,
+doesn't it?" He asked. "Still, I don't mind. I dare say it would amuse
+folks."
+
+"Amuse 'em! Say, I'll guarantee to have 'em talking nothing but baseball
+in a week! I'll get 'em so they'll be offering fancy prices for the
+first row in the grandstand!"
+
+The boys laughed. There was something infectious in the man's enthusiasm
+and the proposed affair began to loom up as a huge and very amusing
+lark.
+
+"Do you really think you can do it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Watch me! I'll run a story to-morrow on the first page that
+negotiations are under way looking to a deciding game, see? And I'll
+hint that there is so much feeling between the two teams that the
+outcome is doubtful. Then----"
+
+"That's hardly truthful, is it?" asked Dick.
+
+"Well, maybe I can get around that," was the untroubled reply. "I'll say
+that the folks at the Point are so certain that their team will win that
+they're willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third game."
+
+"You've got some imagination," laughed Gordon.
+
+"Have to have in my business," replied Mr. Potter with satisfaction.
+"You trust me to work up the excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go
+the limit. We'll print your score-cards for you, and--that reminds me.
+How about a band? Ought to have a band there, oughtn't we?"
+
+"Bands cost a good deal," Gordon objected.
+
+"What of it? Why, say, we'll have three or four hundred folks to see
+that game! We'll get 'em in from the country and over from Springdale
+and Corwin and from miles around. It might be a good idea----" Mr.
+Potter paused and stared into space a moment. Then he nodded vehemently.
+"That's the scheme! I'll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that
+afternoon. Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday."
+
+Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in amazement.
+
+"Why--why he wouldn't do that, would he?" gasped Gordon. "Not just for a
+ball game?"
+
+"Sure, he would, if the _Reporter_ got after him hard. Say, you see that
+Point fellow, whatever his name is, and let me know by day after
+to-morrow. And don't put it off too long. Let's strike while the iron's
+hot. Folks want to see baseball now. In another three weeks it'll be
+about out of season. Well, that's all. Glad to have met you fellows."
+Mr. Potter shook hands briskly. "We'll give Clearfield a ball game she
+won't forget! Good-night. I'll see you again in a day or two."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+MR. POTTER GETS BUSY
+
+
+When he was gone the two boys looked at each other a moment and then
+began to laugh.
+
+"Rather takes your breath away, doesn't he?" gasped Gordon.
+
+"I should say so! And of all crazy stunts----"
+
+"Get out! It's going to be a heap of fun! I'm for it--strong!"
+
+"So I see. But maybe the Pointers won't care to take part in such a
+silly affair."
+
+"Why not? Why, we'll offer them twenty-five per cent. of the gate
+receipts and they'll be dead anxious."
+
+"Pshaw! They don't need any money. What would they do with it?"
+
+"Do with it? Why--why, what would anyone do with it? Eat it, of course!"
+
+"That's what I'd like to know. What are _we_ going to do with it, for
+instance?"
+
+"Oh, there's a lot of things we can do with it, Dick. We might--might
+give it to charity or--or--oh, lots of things!"
+
+"Well, we're in for it, anyway. I'll talk to Caspar to-morrow. I guess
+two weeks from next Saturday would be a good date. The trouble is
+they've got a lot of games arranged and they may not be able to play
+us."
+
+"You tell them what this Potter chap says and whoop it up, Dick. They
+can cancel a game if they want to."
+
+True to his word, Mr. Potter started the ball rolling the next morning.
+The _Reporter_ contained an announcement on the front page under a big
+head:
+
+                            MAY PLAY OFF TIE
+                CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT BALL TEAMS
+                    NEGOTIATE FOR THIRD GAME--BITTER
+                             RIVALRY EXISTS
+
+"Who has the better ball team, Clearfield or Rutter's Point? That's the
+question that is agitating both this community and the summer colony at
+the end of the trolley. And, if present plans carry, it is a question
+that will soon be settled definitely, and, we hope, to the satisfaction
+of Clearfield. Negotiations are to be opened to-day between
+representatives of the two teams looking to a third and deciding contest
+to be played on the High School field some time between now and the end
+of the month. Each nine has won one game and each nine claims to be a
+little better than the other. Over at the Point they are so certain that
+they have the champion bunch of players that they're willing to do most
+anything to secure another game with Clearfield. At this end of the line
+there is an equally strong conviction to the effect that our own
+aggregation has more than a shade on the Point team. That's the way it
+stands now, but the _Reporter_ hopes to be able to announce in another
+day or two that the managers and backers of the rival teams have met and
+agreed on a deciding game. In which case we predict that those who are
+fortunate enough to witness the final battle will see a struggle they
+won't forget in a long time. Watch for developments!"
+
+Besides that highly-colored effusion there was a short editorial inside
+in which the writer extolled athletics in general and baseball in
+particular. In twenty lines the writer alluded to Greek athletes, Roman
+games, Christopher Mathewson, Tyrus Cobb, the American Eagle, the Spirit
+of Fair Play and Clearfield. The style of the two productions was so
+much alike that Dick and Gordon decided that Mr. Potter was responsible
+for both.
+
+"I hope," said Dick, "that Caspar won't see this until I've prepared him
+for it. He will think we've gone crazy!"
+
+As it happened, however, Caspar Billings was much too busy playing
+tennis that morning to read the _Clearfield Reporter_, and when Dick met
+him he knew nothing of Mr. Potter's activities. But five minutes later
+he had found the paper and was chuckling enjoyably over the story. "It's
+great!" he declared. "That fellow ought to be working in New York. He's
+lost in Clearfield. Say, we'll have more fun than a picnic out of this,
+Lovering. What sort of a prize did he say?"
+
+"A cup or a phonograph or--or something like that."
+
+"Me for a phonograph!" laughed Caspar. "Now, when can we play? Of
+course, we'll go over to your field. Have to, anyway. How about two
+weeks from Saturday?"
+
+"That's the day I was going to suggest," replied Dick.
+
+"That's all right for us. We had a game scheduled with a nine from the
+Ocean House at Traskville, but they telephoned the other day that they
+couldn't make up a team. That gives What's-his-name, your newspaper
+friend, a fortnight to work up the excitement. And I'll bet you he will
+do it!"
+
+"I guess there's no doubt about that," replied Dick. "That's settled,
+then, and I'll let Potter know. Did I tell you he wanted to get the
+Mayor to declare a holiday and have the stores close?"
+
+"Great Scott, no!" chuckled Caspar. "He's a wonder. Say, why don't you
+suggest to him that it would be a bully idea to have the Governor issue
+a proclamation? Wonder if the New York stock market will close,
+Lovering."
+
+"It will if Potter thinks of it," laughed Dick. "Well, I must be going.
+I'll see you again next week and we'll arrange about an umpire."
+
+"_An_ umpire!" scoffed Caspar. "We'll have to have two of them for this
+game; one at the plate and one on bases. Maybe your friend Potter can
+persuade President Johnson to officiate. This is going to be some game,
+Lovering!"
+
+"It's going to be a circus," replied Dick. "I dare say they'll be
+selling popcorn and peanuts there!"
+
+"Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I'm crazy about it. By the way, how
+are you and young Townsend getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the
+kid thinks you're about the finest thing that ever walked on--I
+mean----"
+
+"Ever hobbled on two crutches," laughed Dick. "Well, Harold and I pull
+together pretty well these days. The boy is really working like a slave,
+Billings. I didn't think he could do it."
+
+"He's a heap more decent than he was the first of the season. You always
+wanted to kick him then. Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose
+he's told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn't do so badly,
+either. If you criticize his way of scoring he looks at you haughtily
+and says, 'This is the way Lovering does it, and he knows!'"
+
+"You'll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your scorer doesn't do you
+justice, Billings. Good-bye!"
+
+It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational aspect of the third
+contest with Rutter's Point. Fudge loved excitement and color and
+romance, and for that reason the _Reporter's_ daily items about the
+soul-stirring event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book and
+almost filled it with the amazing articles that appeared from Mr.
+Potter's feverish and versatile pen. On the morning after Dick's call on
+Caspar Billings the _Reporter_ blazed forth at the top of the third
+column of the first page as follows:
+
+                          THIRD GAME AGREED ON
+
+               CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT TO PLAY OFF
+               TIE ON AUG. 27--LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT
+               STAKE--WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.
+
+What the captains said was that they expected a close game and didn't
+care to predict the winner. At least, that's what they really said. In
+Mr. Potter's account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot more.
+Gordon read his remarks with astonishment and began to wonder whether he
+had not possibly said all those things after all!
+
+[Illustration: "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"]
+
+Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and
+did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately, several of
+Louise's girl friends were there and Dick's frequent absences from her
+side were not so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned
+dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever captain, played the sort of
+baseball one reads of. The Camp's pitcher was something of a marvel and
+soon had Dick's charges eating out of his hand, to use Harold's
+expression. The contest developed into a pitcher's battle in which Tom
+had slightly the worst of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by
+the score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting as some
+previous contests, it was at least nearly free of errors and full of
+fast, clean playing. Dick regretted on the way home that Louise had seen
+a defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that she had enjoyed
+it all very much.
+
+"You must come a week from to-day," said Dick. "Lesterville is coming to
+play us a return game and that will be close and exciting, I think.
+Would you care to?"
+
+"Yes, indeed, only we'll be at the Point then. Still, I could come over
+on the trolley, couldn't I? I'll get Morris to come with me. I wouldn't
+think of having you come way over there for me, Dick."
+
+Dick expressed his entire willingness to go to the Point and escort her
+to town, but Louise refused to allow it. "If you'll come and see us
+during the game it will do just as well," she said. Dick didn't think
+so, but he said nothing.
+
+The mass meeting to take action on securing a new athletic field came
+off that evening in the High School assembly hall and, after much
+discussion, the meeting endorsed the committee's plan to lease Tilden's
+meadow for a term of two years. The committee reported that it had a
+balance on hand of twenty-eight dollars and forty-six cents and asked
+for more money. It was voted to appoint canvassers to visit the students
+and the graduates, and, if not enough money was secured from them, to
+ask the public to assist. Dick found himself one of the committee on
+subscriptions. Lanny was another. They sympathized with each other on
+their way home and were gibed at by Gordon and Fudge. Fudge offered Dick
+five cents then and there, and, his offer being unexpectedly accepted,
+had to borrow the nickel from Gordon.
+
+The next Monday the _Reporter_ announced that a silver cup was to be
+donated by the merchants as a prize for the team winning the baseball
+game and that it would be on exhibition all next week in the window of
+Wetherell's jewelry store. Tuesday afternoon Mr. Potter called on Dick
+with a proof of the poster which the _Reporter_ was getting out. It was
+a gay piece of work in red and green ink and well calculated to attract
+the eye. In the center was a picture of a batsman with a flashing eye
+and a poised bat. That was printed in red. The lettering was in green
+and announced: "Championship Baseball! Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
+High School Field, Saturday, September third, two-thirty o'clock. Music
+by Nagel's Band. Admission 50 Cents, Reserved Seats 75 Cents. Tickets at
+Howland's Drug Store, and at the Field before the game."
+
+"We're going to use a heavy cardboard stock," explained Mr. Potter, "and
+we'll strike off a hundred of 'em. We're going to charge you just what
+the stock and the labor cost us and no more."
+
+"What about the score-cards?" asked Dick.
+
+"Won't cost you a cent. I've got about a dozen advertisements and those
+will pay for the cards. Another thing we're going to do is to run an ad
+of the game on Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next week."
+
+"That's very kind," murmured Dick. "You really think folks will pay
+seventy-five cents for seats? Wouldn't it be better to make the prices
+fifty cents and a quarter?"
+
+"I don't think so, Lovering. We want 'em to understand that what they're
+going to see is a real game of ball. They'll pay the price all right.
+That reminds me of another thing. How would it do for you fellows to get
+hold of a crackerjack pitcher for this game? You could get one for
+thirty dollars or so. There's Lafferty, of Providence, for instance. I
+dare say he'd twirl for you for twenty-five and his expenses. He's a
+corker, too! I've seen him work."
+
+"I guess not," replied Dick. "I think we'll stick to home talent. It
+seems a bit fairer."
+
+"Well, just as you say. This fellow Mason, though, is pretty good, and
+everyone would like to see the home team win that game. Better think it
+over. If you change your mind you let me know and I'll attend to the
+matter for you. I suppose you chaps are keeping up practice pretty
+well?"
+
+"Yes, we practice every day except when there's a game."
+
+"That's the ticket! You play Lesterville next Saturday, don't you? Well,
+I'll give a good write-up of the game on Monday. Got to keep the
+excitement going."
+
+When the newspaper man had gone Dick went out to the porch and sank into
+his favorite chair beside the little table. He was tired and the day was
+a scorching hot one. There had been a solid three hours that morning
+with Harold Townsend and, although Harold had done his share without a
+whimper, it had been pretty hard for teacher as well as pupil. Dick
+closed his eyes and frowned in the green shadow of the vines. Was Harold
+going to make it? There were times when Dick was sure that he would, but
+also there were moments, usually when, as to-day, he was fagged out,
+when he had his doubts. If Harold could remember what he had learned
+when the time came he would undoubtedly get through, but there was
+always the danger that he wouldn't. Dick sighed. At least, though, he
+reflected, his frown fading, he was doing his honest best for the boy.
+And--and here the frown quite disappeared--he had made a nice lot of
+money that was greatly needed. He would, he told himself, have enough by
+the middle of the month, when Harold went off to Rifle Point to put the
+summer's work to the test, to pay for a new heater for the house. That
+was the most necessary improvement of the many that were needed. For the
+last two or three years the old furnace, never satisfactory, had quite
+failed to keep them comfortable in cold weather. Dick was wondering how
+much the hardware man would allow him for it when the gate clicked and
+Gordon and Morris Brent came up the path.
+
+Morris still used his crutches, but, as he explained, the doctor had
+told him yesterday that he might lay them aside in another week. "And
+I'll be mighty glad to," he added. "They're rotten things to have to get
+about with." Then his eye fell on Dick's crutches, leaning within reach,
+and he colored. "I guess I oughtn't to kick, though," he added hastily.
+
+Dick smiled. "They are awkward if you're not used to them, I suppose,
+Morris. I'm glad you're getting on so well. Gordon says you're going to
+move to the Point this week."
+
+Morris nodded. "Wednesday," he said. "I want you and Gordon to come out
+some evening and have dinner. Will you?"
+
+"Why, yes, I'd be glad to, Morris. Thank you."
+
+"Then I'll settle on a day with the folks. Mother told me to tell you
+she wanted very much to have you. Louise, too. How would Saturday do?"
+
+"All right, I think. We have a game Saturday, but I dare say it will be
+over by five. What time do you dine?"
+
+"Seven. That'll give you heaps of time. I'm going to fetch Louise in to
+see the game and we can all go back together." Morris turned to Gordon.
+"That suit you?" he asked.
+
+"Finely. Could we get the quarter of six car, do you think? I'd like
+mighty well to get a swim before dinner. Got an extra bathing suit out
+there?"
+
+"You can take mine. What do you want to do with this?" Morris held up a
+book in a red cloth cover.
+
+"Oh, I brought that over for you, Dick," said Gordon. "That is, I
+borrowed it and he brought it. Thought you might like to look it over."
+
+"Much obliged," said Dick, accepting the volume and reading the title
+rather puzzledly. "'The Automobile; it's Care and Management.'
+Er--what----" He looked from Gordon to Morris. "What's the idea,
+fellows? I'm much obliged, of course, but why should I want to study up
+on autos, please?"
+
+"Oh, you like to know how to do everything," replied Gordon carelessly.
+"That's mighty interesting, isn't it, Morris?"
+
+"Great!" agreed the other enthusiastically. Dick still looked puzzled,
+but opened the book and glanced at two or three of its pages.
+
+"All right, I'll have a go at it some time. It does look interesting.
+Thank you." He laid the volume on the table. "What ever became of that
+car of yours, Morris?"
+
+"It's home. I'm going to sell it. I paid Stacey the rest of the money I
+owed him the other day. He's a mean little runt. Don't want to buy it,
+do you, Dick?"
+
+Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford it. It
+would be sort of handy for me to get around in, though, wouldn't it?
+Look here!" He viewed the two boys searchingly. "You fellows didn't
+bring me this book expecting I'd get daffy about automobiles and buy
+that one of yours, did you?"
+
+"Of course not," disclaimed Gordon hurriedly. "Besides, Morris has a
+buyer for that car already. That is, he thinks he has."
+
+"All right. Still I don't see why you think I want to read up on
+automobiles," said Dick. "What's the use of knowing how to run a car and
+grease its joints if I haven't got one and couldn't run it if I had?"
+
+"Couldn't run it! Of course you could run it," said Gordon. "Couldn't
+he, Morris?"
+
+"Easy! It's nothing to do. I could show you how in two days. Why----"
+
+But at that moment Morris encountered Gordon's warning look and
+subsided. Dick stared perplexedly.
+
+"I think you chaps are crazed by the heat," he said. "You've got
+automobiles on the brain. What you need, Gordie, is to get out and play
+ball. It must be about time to start for the field, too. By the way,
+Harry telephoned over at noon that he couldn't get out to-day."
+
+"Again? I'll bet anything Harry's father isn't keeping him away from
+practice. He's just lazy. I guess we'd better come down on him with that
+twenty-five cent fine!"
+
+"I'll go over with you and look on if you don't mind," said Morris. "You
+can't call me one of the enemy now, you know."
+
+"Glad to have you," responded Dick. "I'll put this book inside and we'll
+start along. We'll make a fine appearance," he laughed. "Two cripples
+and a crazy fellow!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XX
+
+MR. BRENT TO THE RESCUE
+
+
+A big crowd turned out the following Saturday for the Lesterville game.
+As a manufacturing town Lesterville was something of a rival to
+Clearfield and baseball lovers of the latter place were eager to see the
+Lesterville players humbled. By half-past two--the game was scheduled
+for three o'clock--the stand was well filled. Dick's charges reached the
+field soon after the half-hour and began practice. They had, however,
+scarcely begun throwing the balls around when there was a commotion at
+the gate and Tim Turner was seen excitedly gesticulating toward Dick,
+who, near first base, was watching the team. Dick hurried across to the
+gate and found Tim trying to exclude a short, red-faced man in blue
+overalls.
+
+"He says he wants to get in to open the big gate," explained Tim. "He
+says they're going to begin work in here. They've got a cart down the
+street there and a lot of men and----"
+
+"Sure," said the man in overalls. "We're going to plow in here. Them's
+the orders."
+
+"But you can't do it now," exclaimed Dick. "We're going to play in half
+an hour. Those folks on the stand have paid to see the game. Can't you
+wait until Monday?"
+
+"We cannot," replied the man emphatically. "Mr. Brent give me the
+contract to build the street through here and me time's valuable. You'll
+have to play your game somewhere else, I'm thinking."
+
+"But we can't do that! There isn't any other place! Look here, Mr. Brent
+gave us permission to use this field and I'm sure he wouldn't want you
+to come and break up our game like this. The other fellows have come all
+the way from Lesterville to play us."
+
+"'Tis no affair of mine, young feller." The man tried to push by Dick
+and Tim, but many of the audience, attracted by the argument, had
+gathered around, and these, taking Dick's side, stood immovably in the
+way. The contractor showed anger. "Now you fellers let me through here
+till I open them gates down there," he blustered. "If you don't we'll
+break 'em down."
+
+"Try it!" said someone eagerly, and a laugh of approval went up.
+
+"I'll get the cops here if you make trouble for me an' me men! An' if
+it's trouble you're lookin' for----"
+
+"Oh, run away till the game's over, can't you?" asked another of the
+throng. "Be a sport! What's the good of busting up the fun?"
+
+"An' me losin' money while you fellers play ball, eh? What for would I
+be doin' that? You leave me get to the gates."
+
+"Nothing doing, friend! Better back out!"
+
+"Hold on a minute," said Dick quietly. "Will you wait fifteen minutes,
+Mister--er----"
+
+"Me name's Mullin," growled the contractor. "What'll I be waitin' fer?"
+
+"To give us a chance to see Mr. Brent about it."
+
+"I got me contract, an'----"
+
+"I know," said Dick soothingly. "That's all right. You've got a perfect
+right to come in here and do whatever you've got to do, but it's going
+to put us in an awful mess. Give us time to find Mr. Brent and see what
+he says about it, won't you?"
+
+"How long will it take?"
+
+"Not long. Say fifteen minutes. He's probably here in town. I'll ask his
+son. He's over there in the stand." Dick wasn't at all certain that
+Morris had arrived, but he risked it. The contractor hesitated and
+finally nodded surlily.
+
+"All right. I'll give you till three o'clock. Then I'm goin' in here,
+an' if anyone tries to stop me----"
+
+"I understand. Thank you. Tim, pass the gentleman inside until we settle
+this."
+
+"I'll wait here," said the contractor grimly.
+
+Dick hurried across to the stand and searched for Morris. Presently he
+found him, with Louise at his side, halfway up the slope.
+
+"Is your father in town, Morris?" he asked anxiously after he had
+greeted Louise.
+
+"I don't know. What's wanted, Dick?"
+
+Dick explained hurriedly and Morris whistled. "He may be at his office
+or he may be on his way out to the Point. He doesn't usually stay in
+town on Saturday afternoons in summer. I'll see if I can find him,
+though. Only thing is, it'll take me a long time to hobble over to his
+office."
+
+"I can do it quicker, I guess. Or, hold on! I know! I'll get Gordon to
+go. I'll be back presently."
+
+Dick hurried down to the diamond and summoned Gordon from first base.
+Practice was still going on, but in a desultory way, for most eyes had
+been turned toward the gate. As quickly as he could Dick explained what
+had happened. "He will do it for you if he will for anyone," ended Dick.
+"See if he won't call off the workmen until after the game or until
+Monday, Gordon. Morris says he may be at his office. If he isn't he's
+gone home to the Point. Try the telephone in that case. And try to get
+back here by three. That chap won't wait much longer."
+
+Gordon nodded and sped toward the gate just as the Lesterville team came
+onto the field. He was in his playing clothes, but there was no time to
+change them and he didn't, as a matter of fact, give much thought to
+them. It was five blocks to Mr. Brent's office in the bank building, and
+two of the blocks were long ones. Gordon did the distance in five
+minutes and leaped up the marble stairway to find a clerk just locking
+the outer door of the office.
+
+"Mr. Brent?" he gasped.
+
+"Gone home," replied the clerk, looking curiously at Gordon's attire and
+perspiring countenance. "He left about five minutes ago. You might catch
+him before he gets the trolley."
+
+Gordon raced off again and fortune was with him. Only a block down F
+Street he descried Mr. Brent in front of him walking briskly toward the
+car line and tapping the pavement with his cane. Gordon overtook him
+just over the Main Street crossing. Morris' father turned at the boy's
+breathless hail.
+
+"Ah, that you, Merrick? How do you do! Want to see me?"
+
+"Yes, sir, please!" gasped Gordon. "Mr. Brent, they're trying to get
+into the field, sir, to start work on it this afternoon. And we're
+playing Lesterville and there's a big crowd there, sir----"
+
+"You mean that Mullin is starting work there? Well, that's all right, my
+boy. I told him to."
+
+"Yes, sir, of course, but--but couldn't he wait until Monday, sir? We
+are going to play Lesterville, and they're here and there's a lot of
+folks paid to see the game."
+
+"Oh, that's it, is it? Why, I don't know, Merrick. What does Mullin say?
+It's his affair now. He has the contract for the work, you see."
+
+"He says he won't wait, Mr. Brent. But if you told him to----"
+
+"But really, Merrick, I haven't any right to interfere!"
+
+"It--it's your field, sir! And you said we could use it!"
+
+Mr. Brent frowned. "I said you could use it until I was ready to put the
+street through, Merrick. Wasn't that it?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied Gordon dejectedly. Mr. Brent drew his
+big gold watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped it open, frowned at it
+and snapped it shut again.
+
+"As a matter of fact, Merrick, if the city council hadn't held me up on
+that business you'd have lost your field weeks ago. You ought to be
+thankful for that. We're late on starting that work as it is and I
+prefer not to have any more delay. I'm sorry, but you boys will have to
+play your game somewhere else." He smiled, dropped his watch back to his
+pocket and turned toward the car line.
+
+"There isn't any other place, sir," said Gordon sadly.
+
+"No other place? Why, there must be lots of places! I've seen boys
+playing ball all sorts of places. There's a back-lot behind my offices,
+now. I've seen them playing there day after day--and making a lot of
+noise, too. Come now, Merrick, you're fibbing a little, aren't you?"
+
+"No, sir, really," Gordon answered earnestly. "You can't play a real
+game of baseball on a small lot, sir. I guess--I guess you've never seen
+one, Mr. Brent."
+
+"Seen a game of ball? N-no, I suppose not. I thought all you needed was
+an empty lot or a back-yard, Merrick. You say there isn't any other
+place?"
+
+"No, sir. We're going to lease a piece of ground out toward the Point,
+but we haven't got it yet, and, anyway, it isn't ready for playing on."
+
+"Too bad," said Mr. Brent sympathetically. "But, really, Merrick, you
+ought not to ask me to stop work in order that you can play baseball.
+That--that's a little too much, eh?"
+
+"I suppose so, sir," acknowledged Gordon dejectedly. "Only--we
+thought--maybe a half a day wouldn't make much difference----"
+
+"A half a day might make a lot of difference. Minutes count, my boy.
+You'll learn that some day. No, no, I can't interfere with Mullin. It's
+his job. If he wants to accommodate you, all right, but you mustn't
+expect me to interfere in his affairs, Merrick. Sorry. I'd like to
+oblige you."
+
+Gordon stared at the pavement. Mr. Brent coughed, turned away and
+hesitated. "Well, good-day, Merrick," he said finally.
+
+"Mr. Brent!" Gordon raised his head, his cheeks rather red. "Mr. Brent,
+you said once that--that if I ever wanted a favor--you----"
+
+"Hm; yes, I know I did."
+
+"Well, sir, I'd like awfully to have you do this for us."
+
+"Think that will square accounts, Merrick?"
+
+"Why--why, you don't owe me anything, sir," stammered Gordon, "but you
+said----"
+
+"Yes, and I'll keep my word." Mr. Brent sighed and looked regretfully
+down the street. "All right. Come on, then. I'll walk over with you and
+see what can be done."
+
+"Thank you," Gordon murmured as he fell into step beside the man.
+"It--it's awfully good of you, sir."
+
+"H'm," replied Mr. Brent dryly. "You evidently don't value your service
+to me very highly, Merrick. It doesn't occur to you, apparently, that
+you might ask a good deal more than this in return for what you did for
+Morris."
+
+"I--I never meant to ask for anything," murmured Gordon.
+
+"Hm. More fool you, then!"
+
+There was no more conversation. Mr. Brent walked briskly and it was but
+a minute or two after three when they reached the field. It was evident
+that they had got there none too soon, for the big gates halfway along
+the board fence were open and a wagon with a plow in it was drawn partly
+through it. That it was not all the way through was due to the fact that
+the audience, or a good part of it, had gathered at the point of attack
+and was doing its best to repel the contractor's men. Shouts and jeers
+and laughter came from the scene. At the ticket gate young Tim Turner,
+afraid to leave his post of duty, was peering longingly toward the
+turmoil. Mr. Brent strode more quickly.
+
+"Hm," he said, "I don't see that I was needed much, Merrick."
+
+Mullin, the contractor, very red of face and angry of eye, was berating
+the jeering crowd with the rough side of his tongue. Five laborers, two
+of them clutching the bridles of the horses, looked ready and eager for
+a fight. At sight of Mr. Brent a cheer went up from the crowd inside the
+gates, and Dick, anxious-eyed, fell back from where he had been vainly
+trying to avert trouble. Mr. Brent walked up to the contractor.
+
+"Get out, Mullin," he said. "Leave it until Monday."
+
+Mullin scowled hard. "An' who'll pay me for the time I'll be losin', Mr.
+Brent?" he demanded angrily.
+
+"I will," was the reply. "You ought to have seen, anyway, that the field
+was being used. Get your team out now. I'll settle for your loss."
+
+"That's all right, then," replied the contractor. "All I wants is me
+rights. Back 'em out, Jerry." And amidst the jeers of the spectators
+Mullin and his men retired, the gates were closed again and barred and,
+laughing and jostling, the defenders hurried back to secure their seats
+before others appropriated them, leaving Dick and the ball players and a
+few still curious ones at the gate. Among the latter was Morris, and it
+was Morris who, grinning broadly, came forward on his crutches.
+
+"Good stuff, dad," he said approvingly.
+
+Mr. Brent viewed him without enthusiasm. "You here?" he asked. "Where is
+your sister?"
+
+"In the stand, sir. I----"
+
+"You'd better go back and look after her, it seems to me," said Mr.
+Brent grimly. Morris's grin faded and, with a wink at Gordon, he hobbled
+back toward the seats.
+
+"We're awfully much obliged, sir," said Dick. "If it hadn't been for all
+these people, who had paid to see the game----"
+
+"Of course. I understand. You needn't thank me. Thank Merrick."
+
+The players went back to their places, Lesterville to the diamond to
+finish her warming up, and Clearfield to the bench. Gordon was left
+practically alone with Mr. Brent, even Dick deserting him. From beyond
+the fence came the angry bellow of the contractor's orders. "Leave the
+team here, Jerry," he was saying. "We'll be back Monday, an' I'd like to
+see the man that'll be stoppin' me then!"
+
+"Wouldn't you like to see the game, Mr. Brent, now that you're here?"
+asked Gordon at last. He ought to be with his team-mates, but he didn't
+want to walk away and leave Mr. Brent standing alone there by the gate.
+The latter, who had been looking curiously at the renewed activity of
+the Lesterville players, now glanced at his watch, grunted and nodded.
+
+"I might as well stay awhile," he replied. "Where do you pay?"
+
+"You needn't pay, sir. We're glad to have you see the game."
+
+"I prefer to pay," was the reply as Mr. Brent followed Gordon toward the
+stand. "Here, son!" He had caught sight of Tim Turner at the ticket gate
+and walked across to him. "What's the price?"
+
+"T-Twenty-five cents, sir," stammered Tim.
+
+Mr. Brent found two dimes and a nickel among his change, handed them to
+the awed Tim and went on. "Where's Morris?" he asked. "I'll sit with him
+a few minutes."
+
+Gordon didn't know where Morris was, but he called to Dick and Dick
+pointed him out. Then Gordon piloted Mr. Brent up the stand and by dint
+of much moving and shoving a place was made for him and Gordon,
+muttering his thanks again and getting a non-committal nod from Mr.
+Brent, took himself off.
+
+"I'm so glad, papa," said Louise gratefully. "It would have been horrid
+if they couldn't have played the game, wouldn't it?"
+
+"Would it?" Mr. Brent smiled and settled his cane between his knees.
+"Who are those young fellows out there, Morris?"
+
+"Those are the Lesterville players, sir. They're warming up for the
+game."
+
+"Warming up, eh? Then the game hasn't begun yet?"
+
+"No, sir. They're coming in now, though. It will start in a minute."
+
+"Need all this room for a game of ball, do they?"
+
+"Why, of course, papa," replied Louise. "Sometimes they hit the ball way
+over by the further fence there!"
+
+"That so? Well, let's see 'em do it!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+MR. BRENT TELEPHONES
+
+
+Perhaps a liking for baseball is latent in every American. Otherwise how
+explain the fact that Mr. Jonathan Brent, who, on his own showing, had
+never witnessed a game before in his life, watched that one with very
+evident interest? It was, of course, quite incomprehensible to him at
+first and both Morris and Louise had to do a lot of patient explaining.
+But by the end of the second inning their father had a very fair notion
+of what was going on, although he still was puzzled by many of the
+incidents. As when a Lesterville player tried to reach second after Will
+Scott had captured a foul behind third base and was thrown out by a
+scant foot. If it was a foul, argued Mr. Brent, that fellow on first
+shouldn't have left his base. No sooner was that explained--by Morris,
+since Louise's knowledge of baseball wasn't sufficient for the
+task--than Tom Haley was unfortunate enough to hit the Lesterville right
+fielder on the elbow. The umpire waved the squirming, dancing batter to
+first and Mr. Brent exclaimed: "Now, what's that for, Morris? He didn't
+hit the ball, did he?"
+
+At the end of the fourth inning, when Clearfield had managed to bat out
+a two run lead, Mr. Brent looked at his watch and announced his
+intention of leaving. "Guess you can finish this without me now," he
+said. "Mother will be wondering where I've gone to."
+
+"No, she won't," replied Louise. "Mama's gone to Mrs. Grey's this
+afternoon. Do stay and see just two more innings, papa."
+
+"Yes, don't leave us now, dad," said Morris. "You never can tell what's
+going to happen in a ball game!"
+
+Mr. Brent frowned, fidgeted and finally leaned back again. "Well," he
+said, "I'll see one more turn for each of 'em."
+
+But at the end of the seventh when, after Lesterville had gone ahead in
+the fifth, Clearfield came back with two doubles and a base on balls and
+evened up the score, Mr. Brent was still there and showed no signs of
+leaving. In fact, although we have only Morris' word for it--Louise
+remaining smilingly reticent on the point--when, in the eighth, with
+three Lesterville players on bases and only one out, Harry Bryan and
+Pete Robey executed a lightning double-play that retired the side
+without a tally, Mr. Brent's voice was to be heard with the others that
+went up in a shout of delight! And even Louise affirmed that, in the
+tenth inning, when Gordon rapped out the single that sent Harry Bryan
+across with the winning run Mr. Brent pounded approvingly with his cane
+and declared that "that Merrick boy was a smart one!"
+
+Ten to nine was the final tally and Dick and Harold Townsend, who had
+sat beside the manager during the entire game and kept a perfectly
+correct score--barring a mistake or two quickly set right by a
+surreptitious glance at Dick's columns--closed their score-books with
+delighted slams. Revenge is sweet, and this had been fairly won.
+
+Later on Louise, Morris, Dick, Gordon and the unescapable Harold
+journeyed together by trolley car to the Point and talked the game over
+with a wealth of detail and enthusiasm. There was a very merry party at
+the Brents' cottage that evening. Mr. Brent pretended to have found the
+game very tiresome and declared that he didn't see any sense in grown-up
+boys wasting their time on such nonsense, and the young folks, and Mrs.
+Brent, too, she having heard of her husband's doings, pretended that
+they believed him. After dinner Gordon, who had failed to get his swim
+in the ocean before, borrowed Morris' suit and went in by moonlight. The
+cottage almost overhung the waves and the others, on the veranda,
+watched him glide in and out of the moon's path and supplied him with a
+lot of doubtless excellent advice on the subject of swimming. Still
+later, with Gordon once more among them, Louise brought out her mandolin
+and they sang songs. Attracted by the music, Loring Townsend and Caspar
+Billings joined the company and added their voices to the chorus. Then
+they talked some more; of the day's game, of the next Saturday's
+important contest--and the _Reporter's_ latest efforts--of school and a
+dozen other things.
+
+Dick and Gordon got the last car back to Clearfield, both comfortably
+tired and sleepy, and Gordon walked home with Dick. It was just before
+they reached the Levering gate that Dick sprung a surprise on his
+friend.
+
+"I've been thinking," announced Dick, "that there's one mighty good use
+we can put our money to, Gordie."
+
+"What money?" asked Gordon, with a yawn.
+
+"Why, the money we've made on the games. You see, if we have the crowd
+next week that Potter thinks we'll have we ought to be about two hundred
+and fifty dollars in pocket."
+
+"Easy! Then what?"
+
+"Present it to the Athletic Committee to build a track on the new field.
+How's that for a scheme?"
+
+"Why--er--oh, that's fine!" But Gordon's tone didn't sound terribly
+enthusiastic!
+
+Mr. Potter's prediction came true. By Monday Clearfield was undeniably
+baseball-mad. Even middle-aged and serious-minded merchants discussed
+the probable outcome of the third game between the home team and the
+Pointers when they met each other on the street or when they hobnobbed
+over the Fifty Cent Merchant's Lunch at Martin's Cafe. The younger
+element of the town was wrought up to a fine pitch of excitement. Those
+of its sterner sex who could do so went out to watch the Clearfield team
+practice in the afternoon, while the gentler sex, especially those with
+High School affiliations, became wildly partisan. A dozen or more girls,
+led by Grace Lovering, got together and manufactured a gorgeous pennant
+of purple and white silk, some four feet long, which, when completed,
+was hung behind the silver trophy in Wetherell's window and, like the
+handsome cup, was to be presented to the winner. It was Lanny who made
+the suggestion that the pennant was much too good looking to become the
+property of the Pointers and that it should be a perpetual trophy to be
+played for each year. The girls approved the suggestion and the
+_Reporter_ amended its previous statement regarding the flag. The
+trolley company announced a fare of one-half the usual rate for the
+round-trip on Saturday between Clearfield and near-by towns, and, while
+Mr. Potter failed to prevail on the Mayor to declare a public holiday,
+he did persuade the shop-keepers to agree to close their places of
+business between the hours of two and five. As a matter of fact, with
+few exceptions all of them were glad to do so, for they wanted to see
+that game as much as anyone!
+
+There was usually a crowd in front of Wetherell's jewelry store that
+week. In the front row one found a half-dozen or so of small urchins
+with their noses pressed closely against the plate-glass, while behind
+them stood a scattering of older persons admiring, criticizing and
+audibly reading the engraved inscription which informed the world that
+the cup was to be "Presented by the Retail Merchants of Clearfield to
+the ---- Baseball Club, Winners of the Clearfield Championship,
+September Third, Nineteen Hundred and----." It was a very attractive
+affair, that trophy; twelve inches high, with a fluted base and two
+scrolled handles and a polished ebony stand beneath it. It was generally
+conceded that the merchants had done themselves proud. The _Reporter_
+gave a picture of it and a half-column list of those who had subscribed.
+
+The town was liberally scattered with the red and green posters on
+Monday. They glared and shouted at one from every window. One was not
+allowed to forget for an instant that on the following Saturday
+afternoon the greatest and most important athletic event in the history
+of Clearfield was to be witnessed at the High School Field for the
+ridiculously moderate price of fifty cents--or seventy-five if you
+wanted to be sure of a seat!
+
+All this in spite of the fact that from every indication there would be
+no field to play on!
+
+Mr. Potter was at Dick's at a quarter past seven that morning. He was
+filled with dismay and wrath, and some of the things he said about Mr.
+Jonathan Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-five
+he hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a few minutes before nine he was
+back again, literally frothing at the mouth.
+
+"Say!" he almost shouted in response to Dick's anxious query. "Say! He
+didn't say a thing! He let me talk my head off, that is all he did! I
+told him that public opinion would be against him if he allowed that
+field to be demolished before the game, that Clearfield would be up in
+arms, that the _Reporter_ would deal editorially with the matter and not
+mince its words!" Mr. Potter faltered then.
+
+"What did he say to that?" asked Dick. "He must have said something!"
+
+"He said," replied the newspaper man subduedly, "that he controlled
+three-fifths of the stock of the _Reporter_ and he guessed the paper
+wouldn't be too hard on him!"
+
+Dick grinned. "Does he?"
+
+Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. "Yes, but I'd forgotten it. After that I
+had to--well, I had to tone down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn't be
+possible to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I told him
+about all the advertising that had been done and how everyone was
+looking forward to the game and all that, you know."
+
+"Yes? And he wouldn't agree?"
+
+"He said, 'Young man, get out!' Just that and not another word!"
+
+"Then I guess it's all off," said Dick regretfully. "It's too bad. Of
+course, we might play the game at the Point----"
+
+"We couldn't get the crowd over there. No, sir, it's got to be played
+here. You're certain there isn't another field anywhere?"
+
+"Absolutely certain."
+
+"Then there's just one thing to be done. It's a last resort and it
+doesn't promise well, but I'll try it."
+
+"What?" asked Dick.
+
+Mr. Potter sank his voice. "See the contractor," he said, "and buy him
+off. For a hundred dollars----"
+
+"A hundred dollars!" exclaimed his hearer. "Where'd we get it?"
+
+"Pshaw, we'll clear up two hundred easy if we can pull the game off!"
+
+"Well," replied Dick doubtfully, "but even so I don't believe Mullin
+would dare to do it."
+
+"Supposing, though, his men went on strike?" suggested the other with a
+wink. "He couldn't help himself then, could he?"
+
+"N-no, but--I don't like it, Mr. Potter. It's pretty under-hand, it
+seems to me. After all, we don't _have_ to play that game, and----"
+
+"Don't have to! You bet you have to! Look at that cup! Look at all the
+printing we've done; posters, score-cards, tickets! Look at----" But
+words failed him and he seized his hat from the table. "Here, I've got
+to get busy! That Irishman may be plowing up the field right now! See
+you later, Lovering!"
+
+And Mr. Potter dashed off again.
+
+Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about developments and after
+that Tom Haley wanted information. Dick had no hopeful news to impart,
+however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as Dick was starting for the
+Point--by way of Brentwood--and walked with him as far as the corner of
+A Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and reminded him that three was a
+crowd. Dick had the grace to blush.
+
+"Oh, come on," he said awkwardly. "Don't be a silly chump!"
+
+"Thanks," murmured Gordon sweetly, "but we wouldn't think of intruding.
+Come along, Fudge."
+
+"Wh-wh-what's up?" asked Fudge when Dick had gone on. "Wh-why didn't you
+w-w-want to go along?"
+
+"I can't explain," replied Gordon gently. "You're too young, Fudge, to
+hear such things."
+
+Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to "ch-ch-chase himself!"
+
+Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at Dick because
+he hadn't been able to find him before. "Say, there's something funny
+about this business," he confided, sinking into a chair on the porch and
+mopping his forehead vigorously. "I went over to the field after I left
+you this morning and there wasn't a thing doing. You said Mullin left
+his wagon there, didn't you?" Dick nodded. "Well, it's gone now. I tried
+to get him on the 'phone and his wife said he was out of town. What do
+you make of that?"
+
+Dick shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Mr. Brent thought better of it
+after you left him. You're certain the wagon was gone?"
+
+"Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside. There wasn't a
+scratch there and there wasn't even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now,
+what does that mean? I'd call the old chap up and ask him, only--well,
+frankly, Lovering, I'm afraid I'll lose my job! I suppose you wouldn't
+want to get him on the telephone and ask him about it?"
+
+"I'd a lot rather not," owned Dick. "I guess I'm just about as scared of
+him as you are."
+
+"But he can't hurt you! With me it's different. If he ever tells Stevens
+I went to his office and read the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me a
+ticket and a week's pay!"
+
+"I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to," said Dick after a
+moment's thought. "I'll see if I can find him on the 'phone."
+
+But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gone
+somewhere with Fudge.
+
+"I'll see him at four o'clock," said Dick. "I told the fellows we'd meet
+at the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don't see
+why--Excuse me a minute, will you?"
+
+The telephone had rung and Dick took his crutches again and once more
+swung himself into the house.
+
+"This you, Dick?" asked the voice at the other end of the line. "This is
+Morris. Say, Dick, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago.
+He telephoned from the office. 'You can tell that Merrick boy,' says he,
+'that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see me
+Wednesday. I'm going to Hartford at three and I'll be back Wednesday
+noon.' That's great, isn't it?"
+
+"Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Saturday,
+Morris?"
+
+"Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn't it? And his wanting to see Gordon
+makes it look that way, too. I've been trying to find Gordon, but his
+mother says he's out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me up
+here at the Point, Dick."
+
+"I will. That's bully news, Morris, and your father's a brick! I've just
+been talking with Mr. Potter. He's all het up about it," laughed Dick.
+"He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I'll tell
+Gordon when I see him about four."
+
+Dick hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted by
+Mr. Potter's eager and questioning countenance.
+
+"I couldn't help hearing what you said," he exclaimed. "Has he come
+around?"
+
+"I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on and
+use the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He's
+going to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it's all right."
+
+Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. "Well, I hope so. I want to put
+this thing through now that I've started, Lovering. I'll breathe easier,
+though, when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again about
+Wednesday we'll be in a worse pickle than ever!"
+
+"I don't think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he's concluded to let us use
+the field. If he hadn't Mullin would be at work this minute. If I were
+you, though, I'd hear what Mullin says."
+
+"I will, just as soon as he gets home." Mr. Potter looked at his watch
+and jumped to his feet. "I must be off. Say, that's a load off my mind,
+all right! Now I'll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. He
+wants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that's fair enough. By the
+way, can you let me have your batting-list to-morrow? We want to print
+those score-cards about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything more
+call me up at the office. If I'm not there they'll take a message. Bye!"
+
+"I wonder," mused Gordon when Dick met him at practice an hour later,
+"what he wants to see me about."
+
+"Well, it's about the field, I suppose," said Dick. "Don't look so
+frightened, Gordie. He won't eat you!"
+
+Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully. "I know, but that man
+scares me to death. I don't know why, either. He's always been as nice
+as pie to me. I guess it's his eyes. They sort of go right through you
+and come out the other side!"
+
+There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon and the
+Clearfield Baseball Club performed to enthusiastic applause. Dick had
+sought to arrange a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no team
+that could or would play them, which was a matter of regret since
+Clearfield needed harder practice than it could get without an opponent.
+Rutter's Point, which had been playing two games a week steadily, was to
+meet Logan on Wednesday at the Point.
+
+"I wish we had got them," said Dick. "They'd give us just about the sort
+of a game we need."
+
+"Maybe," suggested Jack Tappen, "they'd swap dates with us if we asked
+them. They won't get any money at the Point, you know."
+
+"Yes, they will," piped up Harold, who had come over to watch practice
+at Dick's invitation. "They pass a hat around and sometimes get ten or
+twelve dollars."
+
+"Anyway, I don't care to do a thing like that," said Dick. "It wouldn't
+be exactly square, I guess."
+
+"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Harold.
+
+"Go ahead," said Jack. "You're full of information, kid."
+
+"Well," said Harold, pausing long enough to regard Jack with a look of
+disdain, "why don't you play them in the morning?"
+
+"By jove!" said Lanny.
+
+"'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!'" murmured Jack. "Kid,
+you're all right!"
+
+"We might," pondered Dick. "They're coming over anyway, and I dare say
+they'd just as lief come in the morning as later. I'll get hold of that
+captain of theirs this evening and see what he says."
+
+"Tell 'em we'll pay their fares both ways," suggested Will Scott.
+
+"Sure thing; and buy them a lunch," agreed Way.
+
+"They'll do it," said Gordon. "Make the game at ten-thirty, Dick."
+
+"Better say eleven. They could hardly get over here before half-past
+ten. Well, I'll get after them as soon as I get home. Harold, you are a
+youth of ideas!"
+
+And Harold smiled proudly.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS
+
+
+That was just about the busiest week for Dick that he ever remembered
+spending. In the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter to be seen and
+Mr. Potter's newest schemes to be considered. And, after that, for
+nearly three hours, he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter's
+room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley slaves. All the
+hard work wasn't the younger boy's, either, for Dick had to do a lot of
+studying in order to maintain with dignity his role of teacher. It would
+never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him napping! The younger
+boy's capacity for study was a revelation to Dick, and his progress a
+source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week Dick could,
+and did, assure himself that the battle was won! That unless Harold had
+an almost total lapse of memory when he was put through examinations he
+could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course cramming is not the best
+means of learning, and much of what Harold learned that summer he was
+bound to forget later, but Dick hoped that the forgetting would not come
+until he had passed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and
+relief when Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in
+what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her
+gratitude, or the expression of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.
+
+After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one
+o'clock Dick had two hours to himself. Or he had unless the
+indefatigable Mr. Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce
+progress or to present a problem to be solved. At four there was
+practice at the field. In the evenings Dick very often had to go over
+the next day's lessons, a task more often than not interrupted by the
+visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all three. Tuesday
+evening not only that trio but Morris Brent as well descended upon him.
+Morris had at last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost
+imperceptible limp. The doctor assured him that the limp would leave him
+in a week or so, and Morris, an ardent football enthusiast, was already
+talking punts and drop-kicks.
+
+Since Logan had readily consented to play a game with Clearfield at
+eleven o'clock the next morning, and since Dick's services would be
+needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been
+postponed until Wednesday evening. Dick hadn't the heart to ask Harold
+to give up seeing Logan and Rutter's Point play in the afternoon. And so
+when the visitors announced their presence that evening by a series of
+loud whistles from the gate Dick closed his books regretfully, knowing
+that he would have to sit up very late after his callers had gone.
+
+They sat out on the porch and talked of many things while the crickets
+and katydids chirped and fiddled in the darkness. It had been decided
+that Tom was to pitch only three innings of the morning's game and that
+Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep Tom fresh for the big
+game on Saturday. To equalize matters, Logan was to pitch her third
+baseman against Clearfield so that she might save her regular box artist
+for the afternoon contest. They discussed this and other features of the
+morrow's battle, and then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted
+to the Saturday's event. Fudge was filled with excitement these days and
+stuttered like an empty soda fountain whenever the subject was broached.
+
+"Jordan and Fillmore's window is f-f-f-full of flags and p-p-pennants,"
+announced Fudge. "It looks s-s-s-swell!"
+
+"It's sort of one-sided, though," said Lanny. "They ought to put up some
+Point flags too."
+
+"I don't suppose there are any," answered Gordon. "They haven't any
+regular color over there, have they?"
+
+"Sure; blue and yellow. It's a funny combination, but some of the girls
+out at the Point have made some flags and they say they look mighty
+well."
+
+"Mr. Potter told me to-day," remarked Dick, "that he's hired four kids
+to sell flags at the field. He got Jordan and Fillmore to make up two
+hundred of them for him. He can certainly think of more things to do!"
+
+"Those are probably the flags they have in their window," suggested
+Lanny. "What are they like, Fudge?"
+
+"J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have just a C instead of
+C. H. S. on them. They're s-s-swell!"
+
+"You told us that before," said Gordon. "I guess Potter will be stuck
+with about a hundred and fifty of his two hundred."
+
+"I don't believe he will. Say, why didn't we think of doing that,
+fellows? We might have made a lot of money." And Lanny looked almost
+accusingly at Dick.
+
+"I don't see that we need any more money," replied the manager. "We'll
+have so much as it is that we'll have to open a bank account. I'm scared
+to death to have it in the house."
+
+"How much have we got now?" asked Lanny.
+
+"Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell you my scheme for
+using it, Lanny?"
+
+"Yes," was the unenthusiastic reply. "But I don't believe----"
+
+"It's a dandy scheme," interrupted Gordon quickly. "We--we'll talk it
+over some day, after this game's over with. No use trying to think of
+anything else right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile
+book any?"
+
+"No, I haven't had a minute's time. No hurry, is there? I've about
+decided to wait another month or so and get one of the next year's
+models. I've already got almost two dollars laid by toward it."
+
+"Well, don't buy a cheap car," laughed Lanny. "Get--get one like
+Morris's."
+
+The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by Morris. "Yes, but don't
+break a leg with it," he exclaimed. Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed
+loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness of the porch
+with a puzzled look on his face. He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a
+kick at Lanny's shin and, judging from Lanny's pained contortions
+immediately afterward, Dick fancied that Gordon's aim had been true. For
+over a week now Dick had been aware that some project was under way by
+the others that he was purposely excluded from. What it was he couldn't
+imagine, but that it had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More
+than once he had seen warning glances sent from one fellow to another
+and quite often a remark had been cut short at his approach. That the
+mystery concerned him particularly Dick did not suspect, however. And
+just now he had too many things on his mind to allow of much
+consideration of it.
+
+"You really ought to read that book, though," said Gordon. "Oughtn't he,
+Morris?"
+
+Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, "You really ought, Dick!"
+and Lanny murmured something about it being well to know such things.
+
+"Look here," exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half in earnest, "if you
+fellows don't quit nagging me to read that book I'll--I'll pitch it out
+the window! What the dickens do I want to learn about running an
+automobile for? Are you fellows dippy?"
+
+There was complete silence until Lanny said: "You never can tell, Dick,
+when you might be called on to--to profit by the--er----"
+
+"Oh, certainly," responded Dick with sarcasm. "Most any old day I might
+get the offer of a chauffeur's job! Or maybe you fellows are going to
+save up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!"
+
+"Ha, ha!" said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled. Gordon had a fit of
+coughing. Morris became intensely interested in the stars seen through
+the vines.
+
+"You'd make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick," laughed Gordon finally.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Why--er--just because," replied Gordon flatly. "Say, I've got to be
+going home, fellows. You coming my way?"
+
+The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm for departure,
+and after they had clicked the little gate behind them Dick could hear
+them talking in low and excited tones as they passed up the street. He
+shook his head as he moved his crutches toward the doorway.
+
+"Either they're all crazy," he murmured, "or they're trying to work some
+sort of a game on me. I wonder what it is."
+
+But he didn't wonder long, for the morrow's lessons awaited him upstairs
+and when he had finished with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder
+about anything.
+
+Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the next forenoon. The
+visitors arrived nearly twenty minutes late and the game dragged. There
+was a lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to make more errors
+than its opponent. Curtis Wayland and the rival pitcher were pretty
+evenly matched and it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her
+endeavors, failed to tally as many errors as Logan that the home team
+stood three runs ahead when the contest was called to allow the visitors
+to snatch some dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn't
+derive much satisfaction from that game, and was inclined to be downcast
+until, just before supper time, Harold telephoned over to him that the
+Point team had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered up and saw
+things more brightly. And then, scarcely two minutes later, came Gordon
+with his news.
+
+"We've got the field, Dick!" he cried from the sidewalk even before he
+reached the gate. "Mr. Brent is going to give it to the school! It isn't
+going to be cut up!"
+
+"Give it to the school!" echoed Dick amazedly.
+
+"Yes! Isn't that fine and dandy?" Gordon sprawled into a chair on the
+porch and fanned himself vigorously with his straw hat. "He's having a
+deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes back it will be
+ours. Morris is giving it."
+
+"Morris! How can he give it?"
+
+"Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris's name. It's to be called
+Brent Field. And he almost as much as promised to build us a big new
+grandstand some day! Isn't he--isn't he a corker?"
+
+"But--but what--how----"
+
+Gordon laughed excitedly. "I guess it was seeing us play the other day
+that did it. He said he guessed as we got so much enjoyment out of the
+field we ought to have it. He didn't get home until nearly half-past
+four and I called at the office three times before I found him. I
+thought the first time that I'd sneak off and not come back. But I'm
+glad I did, though. I was scared to death when I went in. But he was as
+nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball and football and
+the Athletic Committee and the field we talked of getting, and
+then--then--well, then he asked me if I thought the fellows would like
+to keep the field. And I said of course they would. And then he said he
+had decided to make the school a present of it if--if I wanted him to."
+
+"If you wanted him to!" exclaimed his hearer.
+
+Gordon nodded. "You know he told me the time I--the time I was with
+Morris when he got hurt that if I wanted anything I was to ask him for
+it. So the other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field I--I
+sort of reminded him of what he had said and told him I'd like him to
+let us use the field that day. I didn't tell you, but that was how we
+got it. Well, to-day he said I hadn't made the most of my opportunity,
+or something like that. He said I should have asked for the field
+outright if I wanted it. 'Why didn't you?' he asked. Gee, I didn't know
+what to say, so I just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said
+how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did for Morris that day
+and that if I'd asked him then for the field he'd have given it to me; I
+mean to the school. So I said, 'Yes, sir, if you please,' and he laughed
+and said: 'All right, Merrick. I'll have the deed made out to-morrow.
+But I want you to understand that it is Morris who is giving the field
+and not me. He's one of you and the gift will come better from him.' And
+then he shook hands with me and walked 'way out to the stairs with me!
+And--and say, Dick, isn't it _great_?"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIII
+
+MR. BRENT THROWS A BALL
+
+
+If that Saturday had been manufactured to Mr. Potter's order it couldn't
+have been finer. There was a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud
+bigger than a handkerchief to be seen. A westerly breeze, bearing the
+first hint of Autumn, cooled the ardor of the sun. Clearfield had a gala
+look as soon as the shades at the store windows were drawn in the
+morning. Touches of purple appeared everywhere. By ten o'clock the
+downtown streets began to show the incursion of visitors from the
+neighboring villages and even from the country and the stores reaped a
+small harvest. At noon Common Street in the vicinity of the field was
+well lined with sidewalk vendors of peanuts and popcorn, lemonade and
+soft drinks, while in a vacant lot near-by a hustling gentleman with a
+blue-black mustache and a yellow corduroy coat had set up a
+merry-go-round whose strident organ ground out a repertory of four tunes
+monotonously from forenoon to midnight. Small boys with purple pennants
+bearing white C's importuned passers to show their patriotism at the
+expense of a quarter of a dollar and other small boys flaunted copies of
+the morning _Reporter_. "Line-up of to-day's game! Here you are!
+_Reporter!_ Only two cents!"
+
+The reserved seat tickets on sale at Howland's gave out at eleven
+o'clock, and at twelve, after a hasty conference over the telephone with
+Dick, Mr. Potter had a load of lumber and four carpenters at the field
+erecting sixty extra seats.
+
+At one, even before the last nail had been driven, the drug store
+reported that they had again sold out. "Sell fifty more," telephoned Mr.
+Potter, "and mark them 'Bench!'" Then he hurried to Odd Fellows' Hall
+with a moving-van and transferred ten settees from there to the ball
+grounds and placed them in a double row all along the third base line.
+After that he threw up his hands.
+
+Shortly before noon a blue runabout, with its brass glistening radiantly
+and its newly varnished surface reflecting back the sunlight, stopped in
+front of the carriage gate at the field and honked its horn. After which
+Gordon, who rode beside the operator, jumped to the ground, climbed the
+fence and unbarred the gates from inside. Then Morris drove in, Gordon
+dropped the bar back in place and climbed into the car again and the
+blue runabout ambled across the white foul line and stopped a few feet
+from the home plate, with its glistening radiator pointed at the
+grandstand.
+
+"That's my last ride in her," said Morris regretfully as he got out.
+
+"Oh, I don't know," said Gordon. "He may give you a lift some time."
+
+Morris smiled. "I meant the last time I'd run her," he amended. "Gee,
+but I kind of hate to give her up, Gordon."
+
+"She's a nice little car," replied the other, "even if she did try to
+break your neck for you. And she certainly looks dandy. And she runs as
+well as ever, doesn't she?"
+
+"Better, it seems to me. I suppose she's getting the stiffness out of
+her. Well, we'd better hike along to dinner. You're sure your mother
+won't mind having me, Gordon?"
+
+"She expects you. I telephoned I was bringing you. Come on."
+
+It was long before two o'clock when the crowd began moving toward the
+field. Stewart, the liveryman, ran carriages from the station to the
+entrance and did a good business. At a few minutes before two Gordon and
+Dick and Lanny arrived. Mr. Potter was already on hand, instructing the
+two boys who were acting as ushers and keeping an eye on the amateur
+ticket seller at the gate. Tim Turner stood inside and took the tickets,
+dropping them into a tin box and looking as professional as you please.
+Dick's gaze found the automobile the instant he was inside and he
+stopped short and stared at it. And no wonder, for a blue runabout
+placed imposingly in the center of a baseball diamond is about as
+incongruous a sight as one often sees.
+
+"Wh-what the dickens!" gasped Dick.
+
+"Oh, that?" said Gordon. "That's the car that Morris just sold. Looks
+pretty well, doesn't it? Come on in the dressing-room."
+
+"But what's it doing there?" asked Dick. "Whose is it?"
+
+"I suppose someone left it there. Gee, Dick, look at the crowd here
+already! We'll have to have groundrules if they keep coming!"
+
+"Yes, I guess so. But--that car! It can't stand there, Gordie!"
+
+"Of course not. It'll be out of the way by the time we're ready to
+practice, I dare say. There's Tom. Come on. We'd better get changed. It
+must be almost two."
+
+Dick followed them into the dressing-room without further remarks, but
+it was plain to be seen that the incident of the misplaced automobile
+was occupying his thoughts. Most of the team had arrived and in another
+moment Dick found enough to attend to and talk about without further
+bothering his head with the blue runabout. The Point team came in a few
+minutes later and then there was a fine confusion and noise in there.
+Everyone was in the best of spirits and there was no sign of animosity
+between the opponents. One might have thought, were it not for the
+difference in costumes, that the two dozen or so fellows were team-mates
+rather than rivals. It was the first time that most of the Clearfield
+fellows had seen the Rutter's Point players in their new togs, and they
+had to acknowledge that the white suits and blue-and-yellow-striped
+stockings were very attractive.
+
+Of course Harold was there, score-book under arm, following Dick around
+closely. And Morris, too, in his capacity of honorary member of the
+visiting nine. Probably he would have been welcome in any case, for
+to-day was to witness the formal transfer of the field, in Morris's
+name, from Mr. Brent to the High School. Mr. Grayson, who had arrived
+home the day before, was to attend and Morris was to deliver the deed to
+him, as a sort of added attraction. Morris, however, didn't appear
+oppressed by his importance, a fact which his companions were quick to
+notice and approve.
+
+At five minutes past the two teams went out to the diamond, and as they
+appeared, the band, massed fourteen strong in front of the grandstand,
+broke into the triumphal strains of "See the Conquering Hero Comes." By
+that time the stand was filled to overflowing, the extra seats were well
+occupied and the settees sprinkled, while around the diamond what looked
+to the startled gaze of the players to be a vast assemblage sat or
+stood.
+
+"Jumpin' Jupiter!" muttered Fudge, his eyes very big and round.
+"S-s-s-say, Jack, I won't b-b-b-be able to c-c-catch a thing!"
+
+"I guess we'll all have stage-fright," replied Jack Tappen, with a
+rather nervous laugh. "Who would have thought all this crowd would have
+come? And look at the gate! They're still coming, Fudge!"
+
+"G-g-guess I'll s-s-s-sneak home," said Fudge.
+
+Dick was frankly puzzled. Instead of trotting into the field to begin
+practice, his charges were lounging over toward the plate, and with them
+went the Point team. Then Dick's eyes fell on that blue runabout again,
+and he frowned and followed the players, who by this time had gathered
+about it. Harold, who never allowed Dick to get more than six feet away
+from him, went, too.
+
+"Someone will have to get that car out of here," announced Dick
+impatiently. "Whose is it, anyway?"
+
+As the band, which had been blaring forth a twostep, stopped suddenly at
+a signal from Gordon, just in the middle of Dick's pronouncement, he
+finished it in a voice which, owing to the silence, was audible halfway
+to the outfield. A ripple of amusement came from the nearer seats. Dick,
+embarrassed by events and by an impending something that he sensed,
+looked blankly about the grinning faces.
+
+"Wh-what's the matter?" he faltered, appealing to Gordon.
+
+Gordon cleared his throat and took a step forward. The rest of the
+players shuffled into the semblance of a half-circle behind him and
+about the blue car. The audience, none of them in the secret but all
+suspecting interesting developments, grew very still.
+
+"Dick," began Gordon, very red of countenance and nervous of manner,
+"we--that is----"
+
+"Go to it, Gordie," murmured Lanny encouragingly. Gordon took a deep
+breath and another start:
+
+"The Clearfield Baseball Club, in recognition of your services as
+manager and--and in token of its esteem and----"
+
+"Respect and esteem," prompted Lanny, _sotto voce_.
+
+----"Respect and esteem," corrected Gordon, who had prepared his speech
+with much care and had now pretty well forgotten it, "desires to present
+to you this automobile, in the hope--er--in the hope----"
+
+"That it will provide----"
+
+"----That it will provide both comfort and pleasure. It is with much--it
+is with much----"
+
+Gordon looked imploringly at Lanny, but Lanny's gaze was fixed blankly
+on space. He, too, had forgotten the lines! Fudge gave way to his
+nervousness and giggled. Gordon waved his hand toward the car. "And we
+hope you'll like it," he ended breathlessly.
+
+There was an instant's silence, and then came a joyous screech from
+Harold. That was the signal for much hand-clapping and other evidences
+of applause from the spectators who, although Gordon's speech had not
+been audible to them, had by this time gathered that someone was being
+presented with the natty blue automobile. Dick, rather white of face,
+smiled.
+
+"I--I----" he began. Then he faltered. When he went on his voice was
+husky. "Thank you, fellows," he said. "I don't see why you did it,
+but--but I appreciate it more than I can say. And--I can't make a
+speech, so I'll just say thank you and--you'll have to understand that
+it means a lot more than I can put in words!"
+
+Then they cheered quite madly, being heartily glad to be over with the
+embarrassment, and flocked around him and shook hands just as though
+they hadn't seen him for months!
+
+"'It is with much pride that we offer this small token,'" said Lanny
+explosively in Gordon's ear. Gordon laughed derisively.
+
+"What's the good now?" he demanded. "Why didn't you say that two minutes
+ago? You're a fine one to help a fellow!"
+
+"Why didn't you remember it yourself?" asked Lanny, in an injured voice.
+"Gee! You wrote it, didn't you?"
+
+Morris jumped into the driver's seat of the car and Dick, impelled by
+friendly hands, climbed in beside him. Will Scott spun the crank, the
+engine purred, and, to the cheers and laughter of the fellows and the
+enthusiastic applause of the spectators, the blue runabout chugged
+around the field and back into an angle of the grandstand, while the
+band played loudly.
+
+"I'll show you how to run it in two days, Dick," Morris said, as they
+circled the diamond. "You'll find it's as easy as anything you ever
+did."
+
+"Did you know about it?" asked Dick curiously.
+
+"Sure. It was Gordon's scheme; but he told me what he wanted to do and
+dad and I were strong for it."
+
+"But--but where'd they get the money?" asked Dick.
+
+"They haven't got it yet," chuckled Morris. "You have it!"
+
+"I have----Oh, the baseball money!"
+
+"Surest think you know, Dick!"
+
+"Oh!" Dick gave a sigh of relief. "I was afraid they'd paid for it out
+of their pockets or--or somehow. I--I knew for two or three weeks that
+they were up to something, but I never suspected this. Say, doesn't it
+just get there!"
+
+"She's a fine little car," agreed Morris proudly, as he brought it to a
+stop behind the extra seats. "And I'll just bet you'll be crazy about
+her, Dick, in a week!"
+
+"I guess I'm sort of crazy about her now," murmured Dick.
+
+There was still another ceremony to be gone through with; in fact, two.
+The first was performed a minute later when Morris, taking a folded
+sheet of paper from his pocket, walked across to the front of the
+grandstand, accompanied by the players, and with a neat but brief speech
+formally presented the deed of the athletic field to Mr. Grayson. The
+principal, however, wasn't going to miss the opportunity to indulge in
+eloquence, and his speech of thanks went on for quite five minutes. It
+was a very good speech, too, but few heard it, for the spectators out of
+ear-shot were clamoring for the game to begin. When he had finished and
+bowed and taken his seat again, there was more applause, and the bass
+drum boomed ecstatically and Gordon led three cheers for Mr. Brent, and
+at last the home team trotted on to the diamond and the visitors began
+passing and warming up at one side.
+
+By that time it was nearly the hour set for the game to begin, and
+almost every available spot on the field was occupied by spectators.
+Four of Clearfield's modest police force were on duty in the outfield,
+patrolling back and forth, restraining the advance of the crowds which
+stretched along the continuations of the foul lines.
+
+On the "press stand," a kitchen table and two straight-backed chairs at
+the end of the home team's bench, stood the silver trophy on its ebony
+stand. Around the base was twined the purple silk pennant with the white
+"C." At the "press stand" sat Mr. Potter, his straw hat tilted back on
+his head, a pile of yellow copy paper in front of him and a big cigar
+tucked in the corner of his mouth. Mr. Potter, looking proudly about the
+crowded field, was happy. Apparently all the pennants had been
+purchased, for they waved on all sides, and flashes of purple glowed
+everywhere in the sunlight; everywhere, that is to say, except in one
+small section of the main stand, where the Rutter's Point contingent,
+some fifty strong, waved blue-and-yellow flags and cheered for their
+heroes.
+
+Dick, leaning on his crutches near first base, allowed his gaze to
+wander a minute from the work of his charges toward the crowded seats.
+There were his mother and Grace up there, and, farther along, Mr. and
+Mrs. Brent and Louise--and Morris just returning to his place beside
+them. Strangely enough, Louise happened to be looking just as Dick
+glanced her way, and nodded and waved. Dick took off his hat in answer.
+A second later he was bowing again, for Mrs. Townsend was waving her
+blue-and-yellow banner toward him.
+
+Then, presently, the home team yielded the diamond to the visitors, and
+Dick went back to the bench with them. Harold was sharpening his pencils
+as Dick took his place beside him.
+
+"Dick," he said, in a low voice, "I hope you win."
+
+"Thanks, Harold! That's treachery, isn't it, though?"
+
+Harold frowned and shook his head. "Can't help it," he muttered. "I do,
+anyway."
+
+The umpires were Mr. Cochran, of the Y.M.C.A., chosen by Clearfield, and
+Mr. Vokes, who had officiated at the first game between the two teams,
+the Point's selection. The latter gentleman was on bases and Mr. Cochran
+umpired at the plate. At twenty minutes to three Clearfield trotted into
+the field to the cheers of the audience, and Gordon, taking a nice new
+ball from Mr. Cochran, ascended the stand to where Mr. Brent sat.
+
+"Mr. Brent," said Gordon, "we'd like very much to have you throw out the
+ball to us, sir, if you don't mind."
+
+"Throw out the ball!" exclaimed Mr. Brent. "How--how do I do it?"
+
+"Just stand up, sir, and toss it to Tom Haley, down there."
+
+Mr. Brent looked doubtful, but Morris and Louise urged him on, and
+finally he got to his feet, measured the distance anxiously, clutched
+the ball with a death-like grip, and hurled it toward Tom. It went a
+yard over his head, and was fielded by Harry Bryan near second! But that
+didn't matter! Everyone cheered just as hard!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+DICK SMILES
+
+
+                   CLEARFIELD          RUTTER'S POINT
+
+                   Bryan, 2b.          Billings, 3b.
+                   Scott, 3b.          Townsend, 1b.
+                   Merrick, 1b.        Chase, ss.
+                   Wayland, l. f.      House, c. f.
+                   Tappen, r. f.       Leary, 2b.
+                   White, c.           Northrop, r. f.
+                   Robey, ss.          Jensen, l. f.
+                   Haley, p.           Houghton, c.
+                   Shaw, c. f.         Mason, p.
+
+Gordon took his position off first base, thumped fist into glove, and
+called cheerfully across to Tom Haley:
+
+"First man, Tom! Let's have him!"
+
+But Gordon wasn't nearly as cool and collected as he tried to seem. He
+was conscious of the crowd, and especially of the throng that stretched
+four and five deep along the base line but a half dozen yards away. The
+noise, too, was disconcerting. He didn't mind the bellowing of Jim House
+back of first, nor the answering shrieks of Pink Northrop behind third;
+but the steady hum and stir of the crowd gave him what was very much
+like stage fright. He almost hoped that the first hit would not come
+into his territory, for he was virtually sure that he would misplay it.
+But Gordon wasn't the only one suffering from nervous embarrassment. Tom
+was as wild as a hawk, and if the batsmen had not been up in the air as
+well Rutter's Point might have won the game then and there!
+
+Dick, none too self-possessed himself, in spite of the fact that on the
+bench he was practically out of the public gaze, saw that in the
+outfield Way, Jack, and Fudge were each moving restlessly about, and he
+mentally hoped that there would be no long flies for a few minutes! The
+only one of the home team who seemed absolutely self-possessed and
+unconcerned was Lanny. Lanny, behind his mask and protector, gave his
+signals calmly, and called to Tom coolly and encouragingly, holding his
+hands over the center of the plate and inviting Tom to "put it right
+here!" And Tom tried his best to follow signals, and failed lamentably.
+
+Caspar Billings went to base on balls, and Gordon took the bag. Tom
+tried one throw across, and Gordon, to his relief, caught the ball.
+While Tom had been in the act of swinging around and stepping out,
+Gordon had been sure that the ball would get by him. Caspar was playing
+it safe, however, and after Gordon threw the sphere back to Tom the
+latter gave his attention to the next batsman, Loring Townsend. Loring,
+with one strike and two balls against him, reached for a low one and
+sent it up in the air to Pete Robey. Pete caught it, juggled it, dropped
+it, and then sped it to second. Caspar, who had stopped halfway down the
+base line, turned back to the bench.
+
+With one out, Tom settled down a little. Loring Townsend stole on the
+second delivery and beat out the throw. The Point clamored for a hit,
+but the best Gil Chase could do was to trickle a slow bunt to Tom, who
+threw out the runner at first.
+
+"Two gone!" called Gordon. "Let him hit, Tom!"
+
+But Tom did the hitting himself, bumping Jim House on the elbow with his
+first ball. Jim trotted to first, and Leary came to bat. Leary ought to
+have been easy, but he landed on the very first offering and sent a fly
+into short left field. Way started with the ball and got it after a hard
+run, and the inning was over.
+
+"We got out of that mighty luckily," muttered Gordon, as he took his
+seat beside Dick. "I guess we've all got nerves."
+
+"Well, so have the others," replied Dick. "Try to get rid of yours
+first, Gordie."
+
+Harry Bryan waited and got his base. Will Scott, instructed to bunt and
+sacrifice, fouled two attempts, and finally went out on strikes. Gordon
+brought the stands to their feet by a bunt along first-base line which
+started well but eventually rolled into foul territory under the anxious
+gaze of Mason and Townsend. Then came a swipe that missed the ball by
+inches, then two balls, and last, with two and two, a straight one that
+Gordon liked the looks of. He found it, all right, but it dropped into
+center-fielder's hands, and, with two down, Bryan was still anchored on
+first. A minute later he tried a steal, and was caught a yard away.
+
+In the second Tom pitched better, and Northrop and Jensen fanned.
+Houghton, the Point catcher, got a scratch hit, and reached the first
+bag but died there when Mason struck out.
+
+Clearfield did no better in her half, Wayland, Tappen, and Lanny White
+going out in order, and only Jack getting a rap at the ball.
+
+It was not until the fourth inning that things began to happen. Leary
+started the Point's half with a sharp tap between Pete and Harry that
+put him safely on first. Then, with the Point coachers yelling like mad
+and dancing like a couple of dervishes, Tom passed Pink Northrop. With
+the three tail-enders coming up there seemed no cause for alarm. But
+Jensen laid down a nice bunt right in front of the plate, and Lanny,
+tossing aside his mask, picked it up and hurled it to third.
+Unfortunately, Will Scott had started in toward the plate, and the ball
+got to third ahead of him. By the time Way had recovered it, Leary had
+scored, Northrop was on second, and Jensen on first. The Pointers went
+wild with delight, and the blue-and-yellow flags waved in the
+grandstand. Houghton, aching for a hit, was over-anxious, and fell a
+victim to the wiles of Lanny and Tom, and there was one out. Pitcher
+Mason was no more of a batsman than the average twirler, and yet he
+managed to make it two and three before he finally put an end to the
+suspense and the inning by hitting to Harry Bryan, who tagged Jensen as
+he went past and then threw to Gordon, completing the double.
+
+For the next two innings it looked very much as though that one run
+would be enough to win the game, for Mason settled down and pitched
+air-tight ball and added four more strike-outs to his credit. Tom Haley
+was less spectacular, and yet got by without yielding a hit. He passed
+two batters and in the sixth Jensen got as far as third when Pete Robey
+fumbled Houghton's liner. But there were no runs scored, and at the
+beginning of the seventh the score still stood 1 to 0 in the visitors'
+favor, and Clearfield already tasted defeat. But the audience shouted
+that here was the "lucky seventh," and those fortunate to have seats
+stood up and stretched cramped limbs, and everyone shouted.
+
+In the first half of the seventh the clouds began to gather again over
+Clearfield's head. Caspar Billings, first man up, beat out a weak hit
+and took second when Townsend sacrificed, Scott to Merrick. A moment
+later he reached third when Chase flied out to right field. Then House
+provided a half dozen attacks of heart disease when, with three balls
+and two strikes on him, he knocked fouls to nearly every point of the
+compass in his endeavor to secure a safe hit and score Caspar. But in
+the end Tom tricked him into a high fly that settled comfortably into
+Pete Robey's glove, and again the sky cleared.
+
+"If those boys don't win a run this time," said Mr. Brent, almost
+crossly, "I'll be sorry I gave them the field."
+
+"You mean, dad, you'll be sorry _I_ gave them the field," corrected
+Morris, with a grin. Mr. Brent grunted.
+
+"Why don't they bat the ball?" he demanded. "Every time one of them gets
+on a base, the others leave him there. What they ought to do is to take
+a good bang at it and send it out there beyond those fellows."
+
+"That's what they're trying to do, papa," replied Louise, "but the Point
+pitcher won't let them. He's a wonderful pitcher, isn't he, Morris?"
+
+"Pretty fair. He'll get his before the game's over, though. See if he
+doesn't."
+
+"Get his what?" asked his father curiously.
+
+"Get what's coming to him," laughed Morris. "I mean the Clearfield chaps
+will bat him. He can't keep this pace up much longer. I wouldn't be
+surprised if we got after him this inning."
+
+"Oh, I wish we might!" sighed Louise. "I wish they'd just--just _slam_
+him!"
+
+"My dear!" murmured Mrs. Brent. "That doesn't sound very nice."
+
+"It's all right, mama; it's just baseball talk."
+
+"Even so, dear, I'm not certain," replied her mother, "that----"
+
+But Louise didn't hear the rest, for she was waving her purple pennant
+wildly and shrieking in a manner that Mrs. Brent must have disapproved
+of thoroughly. But she had a good excuse. Even Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+tapping his cane and breathing hard, while Morris was frankly on his
+feet, yelling at the top of his lungs.
+
+Jack, the first Clearfield batsman, had landed on the second ball
+pitched, and now it was rolling along the grass between right fielder
+and center, and Jack was traveling fast for second base. He drew up
+there, breathless but happy. From the stands and from the crowds along
+the edges of the diamond came shouts and cheers. At last, Clearfield was
+to tie the score!
+
+And yet even with a runner on second and only a hit necessary to bring
+in a tally, it began to look as if once more the hopes of Clearfield's
+supporters were doomed. Lanny, determined and cool, after waiting until
+he had three balls to his credit and no strikes, tried to drop out of
+the way of a close one, only to have it hit his bat and roll fair! Mason
+fielded it to first, and there was one out. The incessant shouting from
+the spectators died away and Gordon, coaching at first, swung on his
+heel and kicked viciously at a pebble to relieve his feelings. Then,
+with Pete Robey up, there came an exchange of signals, and Jack started
+for third as the ball left Mason's hand for the second time. It was an
+unexpected play, and it succeeded. Pete swung and missed and Houghton
+side-stepped and hurled to third. But Jack, who was a fast youth on his
+feet, was diving head-first for the bag when the ball arrived, and Mr.
+Vokes, trotting past, spread his hands. Clearfield applauded wildly.
+
+With a man on third, Rutter's Point considered discretion the better
+part of valor, and Mason pitched out three times to Pete and Pete walked
+to first, while the home team's supporters jeered and shouted
+disparaging remarks to Mason. A minute later Pete went to second
+unchallenged. Tom Haley was up, and Houghton had argued that Tom could
+be easily disposed of. And it seemed that he could. Tom made desperate
+swings at the first two deliveries, and you could have heard the sighs
+of despair that came from the anxious watchers on the seats. Then,
+heeding the coachers' voices at last, Tom got his eye on the ball and
+watched idly while Mason sped two wide ones past him. Then he tried
+again and a foul resulted, Houghton getting his hands on it at the edge
+of the stand but dropping it. A third ball narrowly escaped being a
+strike, and Gordon cried: "That's waiting, Tom! Let him walk you; he'll
+do it in a minute!"
+
+And he would have, for the next delivery was inches wide of the outer
+corner of the plate, but Tom reached out eagerly, got that ball on the
+tip of his bat and sent it arching up in a low fly that fell three feet
+inside the first-base foul line and just out of the reach of the three
+fielders who raced after it! In trotted Jack, scoring the tying run, and
+in sped Pete Robey, close on his heels, while Clearfield went mad with
+delight and the purple pennants waved on high. Pete beat the throw to
+the plate by inches, but Tom, trying to reach second on the throw-in,
+was less fortunate and fell victim to a fine heave from Houghton to
+Leary.
+
+Dick motioned Fudge to him. "We want another run, Fudge," he said
+softly. "Mason will be up in the air now. Make him think you're anxious
+to hit. Move up in the box and swing your bat; try to look nervous----"
+
+"I don't have t-t-t-to try," muttered Fudge.
+
+"Never mind. Make him think you'll offer at anything, but _don't_ swing
+but once. Pick out a wide one and swing at it, Fudge, but be careful not
+to hit it. If you work it right, he will pass you sure as shooting! Now,
+go ahead."
+
+Harold Townsend, so excited that he hadn't scored a thing since Jack's
+two-bagger, looked at Dick in open admiration. "I guess that's what they
+call 'inside baseball,' isn't it, Dick?"
+
+"I don't know," was the reply. "It's what I'd call horse-sense. I hope
+it works, anyhow!"
+
+With two out and the bases empty the scoring was apparently over, and
+the Pointers were doubtless already occupying their thoughts with the
+task before them of overcoming that one-run lead when they at last
+returned to their positions.
+
+"Last man, Mel!" called Billy Houghton. "Let's have him!" Then Billy
+signaled for a straight one. But Mason, as Dick had predicted, was a bit
+flustered. The straight one came over too low and was a ball. He tried
+it again, and another ball resulted. Houghton returned the sphere with a
+slow and cautioning toss, and then spread his fingers for a curve. The
+curve came, went wide, and Fudge, as nervous as a wet hen, made a mighty
+swing at it, missing it by six inches and winning a laugh from the
+spectators. Then he walked to the pitcher's end of the box and
+flourished his bat, and seemed to be daring Mason to put one where he
+could get it. Houghton signaled for a curve once more, for he figured
+that Fudge was in a condition to offer at anything that came. And Mason,
+winding his fingers none too carefully about the ball, let drive with
+it, and was properly surprised when Fudge made no offer!
+
+Then Houghton woke up. The score was three balls and one strike. He
+signaled for one over the plate, and it came. "Strike!" called Mr.
+Cochran. On the bench Dick watched anxiously. If Fudge could get his
+base, he reasoned, Harry Bryan would be up, and, in the present
+disgruntled state of mind of the Point players, errors were likely to
+result. On the mound Mason was shaking his head at Houghton's
+instructions. He had no doubt that he could put the third strike over,
+but he preferred to make the batter fan. Houghton signaled again, Mason
+wound up, and the ball traveled forward. It had a jump on it, if ever a
+ball did, and that jump was Mason's undoing. Fudge never moved as the
+ball passed him, only turned inquiringly toward the umpire. The latter
+nodded. "Take your base," he said.
+
+Billy Houghton ejaculated an amazed "_What?_" and Mason disgustedly
+kicked up the dust, but Fudge, grinning toward the bench as he passed,
+trotted to first. Rutter's Point suddenly awakened to the fact that
+perhaps the trouble was not yet over, after all!
+
+Nor was it. Harry Bryan found something to his liking, and banged it
+head-high across the diamond toward Billings. Caspar knocked it down,
+fumbled it, and then threw too late to Townsend. Harry was safe on first
+and Fudge on second. Clearfield yelled like wild Indians, and the crowd
+swayed and threatened to push on to the field. Then began a panicky five
+minutes.
+
+Fudge danced around at second and Bryan at first. The coachers shouted
+and leaped, and the crowd kept up an incessant thumping of feet and a
+steady roar of voices. Up in the main stand, Mr. Jonathan Brent was
+hugging his cane and leaning forward from the very edge of his seat.
+Louise had her purple pennant twisted into a hard knot, and Morris was
+talking hoarsely to himself or whoever might be listening. "Take a good
+lead, Shaw!" he directed. "Look out, Bryan! He almost got you! Here we
+go, fellows! Here we go!" Of course, neither Fudge nor Harry heard him,
+but Morris never thought about that. Morris was running that game for
+himself just then.
+
+Dick whispered a few words to Jack Tappen, and Jack sped to first and
+whispered a few words to Gordon. And Gordon turned his head inquiringly
+toward the bench, caught Dick's emphatic nod, and renewed his shouting.
+
+"What did you tell him, Dick?" asked Harold, in a low voice.
+
+Dick smiled. "You wait and see, Harold," he said.
+
+Will Scott was up now, with one ball to his credit. Mason had made three
+attempts to catch Bryan napping at first, and now he directed his
+attention to the batsman again. A waister went for a strike, a wide one
+followed and scored the second ball, and then Mason wound up once more
+and shot his arm out. And as he did so Fudge leaped away toward third,
+Bryan sped for second, and a cry of "There he goes!" went up from the
+visitors' bench. Will Scott glued his eye to that ball, swung and missed
+it. Houghton made a desperate attempt to cut off the runner at third,
+but failed, and bedlam broke loose. Mr. Potter knocked the silver trophy
+off its base in his excitement, and only caught it at the edge of the
+"press-stand" table. Harold kicked his legs in air and tossed his
+score-book up. Mr. Anthony Brent nearly broke his walking-stick. Morris
+challenged everyone within hearing to deny that that was the prettiest
+double steal that had ever been pulled off. Louise clapped her hands
+until her palms ached and her white gloves threatened to rip. And some
+six hundred other folks did whatever it occurred to them to do, and did
+it just as noisily as they knew how!
+
+Dick Lovering, Manager of the Clearfield Baseball Club, only smiled
+quietly and made little marks in his score-book.
+
+A minute later Scott was perched on first base, Mason having been
+totally unable to locate the plate, and Gordon faced the pitcher. Bases
+full, two out, and the captain at bat! Well, it was a fine situation, no
+matter what might come of it. The Point infield crept toward the plate.
+Everyone talked loudly to the pitcher, as much, perhaps, to tranquilize
+his own nerves as to encourage Mason. Mason, it seemed, needed
+encouragement. He was palpably unstrung, and the first ball he pitched
+proved it, for it was as wild as a shooting-star, and if Billy Houghton
+had not leaped sidewise and sprawled on his elbow it would have been by
+him and let in a run. But Billy stopped it, and Fudge scuttled back to
+safety at third.
+
+Mason worked a slow ball over for a strike on the next attempt, and that
+seemed to settle him somewhat. Gordon let one go by and found he had
+judged it correctly. Then a foul back of first base made the standing
+two and two. The noise had diminished, and now an almost breathless
+silence enveloped the field. Only the voices of the coachers were to be
+heard.
+
+"Oh, come on, Fudge! Take a lead! That's better! Hold it! On your toes,
+everyone! Look out for a passed ball now! Here's where we score a few!"
+
+"Pick out a good one, Cap! Make him pitch to you! Here it is! Here it
+is!"
+
+But Gordon refused to offer at it, and, "Ball!" announced the umpire.
+
+"It's got to be good, now, Gordie!" yelled Jack. "Lean on it! Lean on
+it! Make it a homer, Cap!"
+
+Mason wound, unwound, sped the ball toward the plate, bat and ball met
+and a sudden swelling paean of joy went up as the spectators leaped to
+their feet and craned their necks. But Gordon, speeding down the
+first-base line, and the other runners, spurning the dust between bags,
+slowed up and turned disappointedly back. The hit had gone foul by
+several yards. A brand-new ball was thrown to the pitcher, and Gordon
+picked up his bat again, waited until the runners had regained their
+bases, and then once more faced Mason.
+
+That new white ball looked good to him! What he feared most now was that
+Mason would pitch a bad one and that he would have to take his base on
+balls. To be sure, that would force in another run, but Gordon wanted
+more than that. Something told him that if Mason put one over he could
+hit it! Perhaps it would have been well if Mason had sacrificed a run
+and passed the Clearfield captain, but Mason couldn't be expected to
+know what was to happen. He wanted to strike the batsman out and end a
+deplorable inning, and Billy Houghton wanted the same thing. And so
+Billy spread his hands wide and Mason was just a bit more careful than
+usual and the ball sped forward fast and straight. And Gordon felt his
+heart jump as he saw what was coming. Every muscle tightened, his bat
+swung sharply, there was a _crack_ that was easily heard outside the
+field where an eager army of small boys had their eyes glued to all
+available cracks and knot-holes, and Gordon was racing for first!
+
+Over Leary's upstretched glove traveled the ball into the outfield. Jim
+House made a desperate effort to get it on the bound, missed it, whirled
+and scuttled back toward the fence. It was Pink Northrop, right fielder,
+who finally recovered it and threw it frantically in to second baseman.
+But by that time three joyous youths had crossed the plate and Gordon
+was sliding, in a cloud of dust, to third. And he might have kept his
+feet, at that, for poor Caspar, seeing the game slipping away, muffed
+the throw. Gordon had come through with a clean three-bagger! The score
+stood five to one! The "lucky seventh" had proved itself!
+
+[Illustration: "The Lucky Seventh had proved itself"]
+
+The inning ended two minutes later when Way was
+an easy out, shortstop to first, and Rutter's Point again took up the
+bat. But four runs was a desperate handicap to overcome, and Tom Haley,
+encouraged by success, pitched the best ball of his career. To be sure,
+Rutter's Point did score once more, in the first of the ninth, Caspar
+Billings slamming out a two-bagger much too hot for Pete Robey to handle
+and sending Jensen across the plate. And after that Townsend got to
+first on an error by Will Scott, and the Point, with Gil Chase at bat,
+tried heroically to pull the game out of the fire by a ninth-inning
+rally. But Tom was not to be trifled with, and Chase finally went out on
+a long fly to center, which Fudge, making the most of his second chance
+of the game, pulled down without a tremor!
+
+And then the band crashed forth into a triumphant march, the stands
+emptied, the field was flooded with laughing, satisfied spectators,
+cheers were given and answered, and, surrounded by a dense throng of
+enthusiastic admirers, Gordon and Dick and the others tried to hear Mr.
+Potter's speech as he presented to them the silver cup and the silken
+pennant. That speech appeared in full in Monday's _Reporter_, together
+with three columns of descriptive matter and a detailed story of the
+game; but no one heard it now.
+
+Five minutes later, Dick, the trophy held on his knees, sat in the blue
+runabout, and, with the triumphant Clearfield nine following behind, was
+paraded thrice around the field, Morris acting as charioteer. And the
+crowd, loitering behind to miss none of the fun, scuttled aside and
+cheered and waved purple flags.
+
+Last of all, with a score-book somewhat the worse for wear clutched
+tightly under his arm, strode Harold, adding his shrill cheers to the
+general tumult.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXV
+
+"THE LUCKY SEVENTH"
+
+
+On a crisp and sunny Saturday morning, a fortnight after the game, a
+blue runabout automobile came quietly and circumspectly along Troutman
+Street, under the yellowing maples, and, with two gruff toots of its
+horn, slowed down and came to a stop in front of the Merricks' gate. As
+the driver of the car slid the gears into neutral and kicked off the
+switch at the battery, a look of relief succeeded the somewhat strained
+and anxious expression he had worn. I think he even sighed his
+satisfaction as he relaxed his grasp of the steering wheel and looked
+toward the doorway. Along the running-board on the driver's side of the
+car lay a pair of crutches, held in place by an ingenious contrivance of
+heavy wire.
+
+After that, there is no use trying to longer conceal the identity of the
+boy at the wheel. It was Dick. A week of instruction by Morris and a
+second week spent in operating alone had made him a fairly competent
+driver, but he had not yet passed the stage where a corner was something
+to be approached with vast anxiety and to be negotiated with care and
+deliberation. Every inch of the blue varnished surface of the car shone
+resplendently, and every particle of brass was polished until it was
+painful to view.
+
+Two more blasts of the grumpy horn at last produced results. The screen
+door flew open, and Gordon, a piece of toast in one hand and a napkin in
+the other, appeared.
+
+"Say, what time do you think it is?" he demanded laughingly.
+
+"It's time you were through breakfast, anyway," responded Dick. "Get a
+hustle on. _Eli_ hates to stand." (Dick had named the car _Eli Yale_
+because of its color, but generally referred to it as _Eli_.)
+
+"I'll bring a lump of sugar for him," said Gordon. "Keep a tight rein on
+him, Dick, and I'll be with you in five minutes. Maybe he will stand
+long enough for you to come in and have a cup of coffee."
+
+"I wouldn't dare risk it," replied Dick gravely. "Besides, I never take
+coffee in the middle of the forenoon."
+
+"Middle of the forenoon!" grunted the other. "It isn't half-past eight
+yet! Since you got that car, you never go to bed at all, I guess!"
+
+Gordon vanished with that, and Dick leaned comfortably back in the
+runabout to wait. But an instant later a speck of tarnish on the dash
+clock--a gift from Louise Brent--caught his eye, and he whisked a piece
+of cheesecloth from a pocket on the inside of the door and attacked it
+indignantly. Before he had conquered it, returned the cloth and buttoned
+the flap again, Gordon appeared once more, capped and ready for the
+ride.
+
+"All set?"
+
+Dick looked carefully at levers and switch. "All set," he said.
+
+Gordon turned the handle half over, and _Eli_ broke into a frantic
+chugging that could be heard six blocks away. Dick pushed back the
+throttle and pulled down the spark, however, and _Eli_ moderated his
+transports. Gordon, who had clapped his hands to his ears, grinned as he
+climbed in beside Dick and slammed the door. "Gee," he said, "but he's
+some noisy!"
+
+"Not at all," denied Dick indignantly. "He naturally chortles a little
+at times."
+
+"Oh, was he chortling? I thought he was champing his bit. Hello, see
+who's here!" added Gordon, as the car swayed across B Street. A lusty
+shouting was heard, and Fudge came racing along the sidewalk. Dick
+stopped.
+
+"W-w-where you going?" panted Fudge. "Take me, too, Dick. You haven't
+given me a ride yet!"
+
+"All right," laughed Dick. "Open the door and sit on the edge there,
+Fudge. But don't drag your big feet and stop the car."
+
+"Go get your cap," advised Gordon.
+
+"Don't need a cap. Where are you going?"
+
+"Oh, just for a ride," replied Dick, throwing in his clutch again after
+a calculating survey of the empty street.
+
+"The Springdale road's pretty good," suggested Gordon, with a wink at
+Fudge.
+
+"I thought I'd run out toward the Point," said Dick carelessly. "You
+don't meet many teams that way."
+
+"By the way," asked Gordon, "when do they move in?"
+
+"Who?" Dick inquired.
+
+"The Brents, of course." Fudge giggled.
+
+Dick laughed. "Who said anything about the Brents, you idiot?"
+
+"No one; only you spoke of going to the Point. You can drop Fudge and me
+at the hotel. We don't want to be in the way."
+
+"Oh, you run along and play!" said Dick good-naturedly. "If you really
+want to know when they're coming back to town, I'll tell you. They're
+going to move in next Wednesday. Morris says it's too hard to get to
+school on time. And since football practice has begun----" Dick broke
+off to negotiate a corner.
+
+"Morris is crazy to think he can play this Fall," said Fudge. "He will
+bust his leg again. You'll see."
+
+"He's going to try, anyway," said Gordon. "They're going to mark out the
+gridiron this morning, Dick."
+
+"That so? Oh, by the way, I heard from Harold. I've got his letter here
+somewhere. Steady the wheel a minute, Gordie, will you?" Dick drew forth
+an envelope from his pocket and handed it across. "Read it aloud."
+
+  "'Dear Dick,'" read Gordon, "'I passed all right. Only I have got to
+  do some extra Math this term. I was sort of rotten on Math. Old
+  Penny (he's the principal) says I did better than lots of fellows
+  who come here. Loring said I was to thank you, and I do awfully,
+  Dick. You were fine and dandy to me, and I am sorry I was such a
+  rotter at first. And I am very sorry about the Math. It wasn't your
+  fault, Dick. Please remember me to the fellows, and tell them I am
+  coming back next year. I am going out for the junior baseball team
+  next week and maybe next summer I can play for you, Dick, if you
+  want me. Loring says remember him to you, and so no more at present
+  from your firm friend,
+                                                             Harold.'"
+
+"'Firm friend' is pretty good," commented Gordon, as he folded the
+letter up and returned it to its envelope. "But I'm glad the kid passed,
+if only on your account, Dick."
+
+"Yes; if he had failed, I'd have felt sort of mean about taking the
+money. Speaking of money, fellows," he continued, as the runabout slid
+across the trolley tracks and headed toward Rutter's Point, "Mr. Potter
+sent me the statement this morning. I didn't bring it, though."
+
+"How did we come out?" asked Gordon. "About the way we figured?"
+
+"Nearly forty dollars better. There were six hundred and thirty-three
+paid admissions to the game, amounting to four hundred and three
+dollars. The total expenses were, I think, sixty-one dollars; or maybe
+they were sixty-three. Anyway, the net profits amount to three hundred
+and forty-two dollars. That includes four dollars and something made on
+the pennants sold."
+
+"Peanuts?" exclaimed Fudge. "I didn't know we----"
+
+"Pennants, stupid!" corrected Gordon. "Well, that's doing pretty well,
+Dick. Then, after paying for the car, we have money left?"
+
+"Over fifty dollars," was the reply. "What shall we do with it?"
+
+"G-g-give it to me," suggested Fudge.
+
+"I think you ought to have it for gasoline and tires," laughed Gordon.
+"This thing will keep you poor, I'm afraid, Dick."
+
+"No, sir," replied the owner of the car seriously. "I'm studying up on
+autos, and I'm going to make my own repairs. And I've sent for a
+vulcanizing outfit that only costs three dollars and a half. When I get
+that I can fix my own tires. As for gasoline, why, _Eli_ only drinks a
+gallon every twenty miles! And I don't run that far in three days! I
+think it would be a good plan to hand over what we have left to the
+Athletic Committee, Gordie. They'll need a lot of money now that we own
+the field. We'll have to pay the taxes and for water and other things."
+
+"That's right. As far as I'm concerned----"
+
+"Remember this place?" interrupted Dick.
+
+Gordon nodded. "Yes; that's where Morris steered the car into the fence
+and me into the bushes."
+
+"It's where you became a blooming hero," said Fudge.
+
+"Hero, nothing! What I did didn't amount to a row of pins!"
+
+"Well, it amounted to the gift of an athletic field to the school," said
+Dick, with a smile. "That's something, you know!"
+
+"And it amounted to something else, t-t-too," added Fudge. "It made
+Morris a respectable member of s-s-s-society!"
+
+"What beautiful expressions you do use, Fudge!" laughed Gordon.
+
+"Fudge is right, though," agreed Dick, when he had carefully steered the
+car around a wagon. "Morris is a heap more--more likable than he was
+last year. Whether it was the accident----"
+
+"It jarred some of the nonsense out of him, perhaps," said Gordon.
+"Although, for that matter, Dick, maybe you like him better for other
+reasons."
+
+"Humph!" said Dick, with a suspicious sidelong glance. Fudge chuckled.
+
+"Even you and Morris' father seem to be getting quite chummy," pursued
+Gordon, "while as for Mrs. Brent, why, she's absolutely spoony about
+you!"
+
+"Go ahead and enjoy yourself," said Dick. "I don't mind your ravings.
+Looks as though they were getting ready to close the hotel, doesn't it?"
+he added, as they took the corner cautiously and turned into the shore
+road.
+
+"I should think they would. About everyone has gone. Did I tell you what
+Caspar Billings said at the station the other day?"
+
+"I don't think so. What was it?"
+
+"He said he was going to send circulars of the hotel to all the prep
+schools next Spring, so he could get up a nine that would beat us next
+summer and get that pennant back!"
+
+"L-l-let him!" sputtered Fudge. "We'll be ready for them!"
+
+"Yes, indeed, for we'll have Mr. Harold Townsend playing for us," said
+Gordon. "By the way, Dick, we'd better put him in center field, don't
+you think?"
+
+"Certainly."
+
+"That's all r-r-right!" exploded Fudge. "P-p-put him there! I'm going to
+p-p-p-play in the infield next s-s-s-summer! I'm g-g-going----"
+
+But Fudge's remarks were drowned by the sudden croaking of the horn as
+the blue runabout approached the Brents' cottage.
+
+"There's Morris on the porch," said Dick, adding another dismal warning.
+
+"Yes, and--am I mistaken, or is that---- My sight isn't what it used to
+be, Fudge. Look and tell me if that is Louise on the steps."
+
+"Dry up!" muttered Dick, turning the car toward the curb and throwing
+out the clutch.
+
+Morris and Louise came down the walk. "Some driving, that, Dick," Morris
+applauded.
+
+"Oh, I told him what to do!" said Gordon modestly.
+
+"Good morning, Mister Manager," greeted Louise. "Good morning, Mister
+Captain. Good morning, Mister----" She paused, at a loss.
+
+"Mister Historian," supplied Gordon. "Fudge is writing a beautiful story
+about the game, aren't you, Fudge? He's going to call it----"
+
+"C-c-cut it out!" growled Fudge.
+
+"Please tell me, Fudge," begged Louise. "What _are_ you going to call
+it?"
+
+Fudge scowled, grinned, and relented.
+
+"I'm g-g-going to c-c-c-call it," he said, "'The Lucky Seventh.'"
+
+THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's The Lucky Seventh, by Ralph Henry Barbour
+
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