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diff --git a/39923.txt b/39923.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d40f609 --- /dev/null +++ b/39923.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8384 @@ +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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LUCKY SEVENTH *** + +***** This file should be named 39923.txt or 39923.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/9/2/39923/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This book was +produced from images made available by the HathiTrust +Digital Library.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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