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diff --git a/old/60540-0.txt b/old/60540-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 425a661..0000000 --- a/old/60540-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6556 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Follow the Ball, by Ralph Henry Barbour - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Follow the Ball - -Author: Ralph Henry Barbour - -Release Date: October 21, 2019 [EBook #60540] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOLLOW THE BALL *** - - - - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - FOLLOW THE BALL - - - - -By RALPH HENRY BARBOUR - - -_Yardley Hall Series_ - - FOURTH DOWN - FORWARD PASS - DOUBLE PLAY - WINNING HIS Y - GUARDING THE GOAL - FOR YARDLEY - AROUND THE END - CHANGE SIGNALS - - -_Purple Pennant Series_ - - THE LUCKY SEVENTH - THE SECRET PLAY - THE PURPLE PENNANT - - -_Hilton Series_ - - THE HALF-BACK - FOR THE HONOR OF THE SCHOOL - CAPTAIN OF THE CREW - - -_Erskine Series_ - - BEHIND THE LINE - WEATHERBY’S INNING - ON YOUR MARK - - -_The “Big Four” Series_ - - FOUR IN CAMP - FOUR AFOOT - FOUR AFLOAT - - -_The Grafton Series_ - - RIVALS FOR THE TEAM - HITTING THE LINE - WINNING HIS GAME - - -_North Bank Series_ - - THREE BASE BENSON - KICK FORMATION - COXSWAIN OF THE EIGHT - - -_Books Not In Series_ - - THE LOST DIRIGIBLE - FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS - KEEPING HIS COURSE - THE BROTHER OF A HERO - FINKLER’S FIELD - DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME - THE ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON - UNDER THE YANKEE ENSIGN - BENTON’S VENTURE - THE JUNIOR TROPHY - THE NEW BOY AT HILLTOP - THE SPIRIT OF THE SCHOOL - THE PLAY THAT WON - OVER TWO SEAS (With H. P. HOLT) - FOR THE GOOD OF THE TEAM - INFIELD RIVALS - - -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, Publishers, New York - - - - -[Illustration: THEN HAP FERRIS MADE A PASS TO SAWYER] - - - - - FOLLOW THE BALL - - BY - - RALPH HENRY BARBOUR - - AUTHOR OF “INFIELD RIVALS,” “FOR THE GOOD OF THE TEAM,” - “COXSWAIN OF THE EIGHT,” ETC. - - - [Illustration] - - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - NEW YORK :: 1924 :: LONDON - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1924, BY - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - - Copyright, 1920, 1921, 1922, 1923, by The Sprague Publishing Company - Copyright, 1920, 1922, 1923, by The Century Company - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. FOR THE TEAM 1 - II. A SACRIFICE FOR KENTON 14 - III. FRIENDS AT OUTS 23 - IV. GHOSTS 37 - V. THE VIGILANTES 48 - VI. JOE FINDS A CLUE 59 - VII. THE LONE CHASE 70 - VIII. JOE RESIGNS 80 - IX. GUS BILLINGS NARRATES 93 - X. GUS BILLINGS CONCLUDES 104 - XI. CAMP RESTHERE 116 - XII. UNINVITED GUESTS 127 - XIII. DOWN THE BROOK 139 - XIV. ALONZO JONES SPEAKS 149 - XV. ALONZO GOES ON 163 - XVI. GINGER BURKE 176 - XVII. ONE ALL 187 - XVIII. THE DECIDING GAME 199 - XIX. GINGER SIGNS UP AGAIN 212 - XX. CALLED TO THE COLORS 223 - XXI. JOE FOLLOWS THE BALL 237 - - - - -FOLLOW THE BALL - - - - -CHAPTER I - -FOR THE TEAM - - -Joe Kenton, tilted back in his swivel chair, was thinking. - -The school year was nearly over and there were many things that he had -meant to do and hadn’t done. There was that extra course in the spring -term, there was that reading that was to have made next year easier, -there was――well, several other things. Such as getting on better terms -with his roommate. That, too, had got by him, in spite of all his good -intentions. There was some excuse for abandoning the extra course and -the reading; playing on the school nine hadn’t left much time for -additional work; but attaining the reputation of being the cleverest -second baseman in the history of the school needn’t have kept him from -making up with Hal Norwin. - -The silly part of it was that there was no apparent reason for the -estrangement. They had entered Holman’s together last fall, and, -although they had never chummed much at home, it had seemed natural -that they should room together. But it hadn’t worked out well. They had -managed to get along without a real quarrel, but that was the best that -could be said. And now, although no word had been spoken of it, it was -mutually understood that next year they should separate. There were -moments when Joe regretted it. It did seem that they should have hit -it off better. Why hadn’t they? He had nothing against Hal; or nothing -much. He did think him a bit snobbish, inclined to make too much of the -fact that his school friends were of the “smart crowd.” And sometimes -he acted “stuck-up” about his playing. Perhaps, though, he had a right -to, for he was easily the best man on the team, not even excepting -Captain Bob Stearns. As for his trying to get Wilder on second instead -of Joe, why, he had a right to his judgment. Still, that rankled. - -Perhaps, thought Joe, if he had made the effort when he had meant -to, away last autumn, they might have got together, and life in 14 -Routledge would have been fairly jolly. Fourteen was a dandy study. -They had been lucky to get it. He wished he could be certain of having -as good a one next fall; for, of course, he would get out and let Hal -fill his place with a more congenial roommate. In case the trouble -had been more his fault than Hal’s, that would sort of make up. And -speaking of Hal, where the dickens was he? - -The clock on his dresser said twenty-two past eleven. At Holman’s you -were required to be in hall at ten unless you had secured leave, and -even then eleven was the limit of absence. And here it was twenty-two -minutes after! Well, Hal must have obtained permission, for he couldn’t -get in now without ringing, and he surely wouldn’t be idiot enough to -risk a row with faculty! And yet, he reflected as he began to undress, -it wouldn’t be unlike Hal to take a chance just at the wrong time. He -was forever doing it――and forever getting by with it! The crowd he -trained with thought it clever to show contempt for rules and had, as -Joe well knew, a long list of unpublished escapades to their credit; or -discredit. Oh, well, he should worry! What happened to Hal was none of -his business. He had plenty of troubles of his own; one of which was to -get the light out before “Granny” Maynard, second floor proctor, began -his nightly snooping expedition. However, there were still full three -minutes―― - -There was a sound at the open window. A hand slid over the sill and -then the upper part of a body appeared against the outer darkness. -“Give me a hand, Joe! That’s some climb. Thanks.” Hal Norwin swung -over the ledge, breathing hard but grinning in triumph. Then the grin -changed to a frown. “Rotten luck,” he continued. “I thought maybe -they’d forget to lock the door for once, but of course they didn’t. -And ‘Granny’ stuck his silly old bean out and saw me. I beat it around -back, but I’ll bet he recognized me. Got the door locked?” - -Joe nodded. “Yes, but we’ll have to let him in if he comes. Funny he -hasn’t been around if he saw you.” - -“Well,” panted Hal, “if he stays away another ten seconds I’ll beat -him.” He struggled out of his clothes rapidly. “But if he did recognize -me and reports me――well, you know the answer; probation for yours -truly! And pro doesn’t suit me just now; not with the Munson game the -day after to-morrow. There, now let him come! I――_listen_!” - -There were footsteps in the corridor. Joe leaped toward the switch. -In the sudden darkness he heard Hal’s bed creak. The footfalls came -nearer. Joe, standing silent in the darkness, listened and hoped. -Perhaps Maynard was only making his rounds, after all. Perhaps he -hadn’t seen―― The steps stopped outside. There was a moment of -suspense. Then three brisk raps sounded. - -“Pretend you’re asleep!” whispered Hal. - -But Joe, remembering that he was still attired in his underclothes -and that he had but the moment before put the light out, saw the -uselessness of that. Instead, he fumbled his way to the door and -opened it. The proctor stood revealed in the dim light of the corridor. - -“Norwin,” he began. - -“I’m Kenton,” said Joe placidly. “What’s up?” - -“Turn your light on, please.” Maynard pushed past Joe into the room. -The radiance showed the apparently sleeping form of Hal, a litter -of hurriedly discarded garments about his bed and Joe but partly -undressed. Maynard viewed the motionless form beneath the covers -perplexedly. Then: - -“Which of you came in by the window just now?” he demanded. - -“By the window!” echoed Joe incredulously. “What is it, a joke?” - -“Now stop, Kenton!” Maynard raised a hand. He was tall and thin and -bespectacled, and had a way of holding his head slightly forward from -his shoulders as he talked, perhaps because the glasses did not quite -overcome his nearsightedness. “Don’t trouble to lie. I know what I’m -talking about, for I watched from the lavatory window and saw one of -you climb in there. And I’m pretty certain which one it was.” He turned -toward the form huddled under the covers. “I’m sorry,” he went on, “but -I’ll have to report you. I can’t understand your doing a crazy thing -like this, though.” His tone was indignant. “You must have known what -it meant to be caught. If you didn’t care on your own account you ought -to have realized what it would mean to the team, to the school. Hang -it, it isn’t fair to risk defeat just for the sake of some piffling -escapade in the village!” - -The form under the bed-clothes stirred, an arm was thrust forth and Hal -groaned sleepily. Then, as though disturbed by the sound or the light, -he thrust the clothes down and blinked protestingly. It was a good -piece of acting. Joe wondered whether Maynard was deceived by it. It -was hard to tell. - -“Put out that light, Joe,” muttered Hal. Then, wakefully: “Hello, -what’s the row?” - -Maynard viewed him doubtfully. “I think you heard what I said,” he -observed. - -“He says he saw some one climb in our window a while ago.” Joe nodded -smilingly at the proctor. - -Hal turned and looked at the window, blinking and rubbing his eyes. -Then: “Wh-what for?” he asked stupidly. - -“I don’t think he said,” replied Joe gravely. “You didn’t say, did you, -Maynard?” - -“I’ve had my say.” The proctor turned toward the door. “I’m sorry, -fellows.” - -“Just a minute!” said Joe. “Do you still think you saw――what you said, -Maynard?” - -“Naturally.” - -“And you feel that it’s――it’s up to you to spoil Saturday’s game?” - -“It’s up to me to report to faculty. You should have thought of the -game before.” - -“It seems sort of tough,” muttered Joe. Maynard flashed a puzzled look -at him. Hal sat up impulsively. - -“Oh, well,” he began, “I suppose――” - -“Never mind,” interrupted Joe, shrugging. “I can stand it, I guess.” - -“You mean――it was you?” demanded Maynard, staring hard. - -Joe shrugged again. “I thought you said you knew,” he scoffed. - -“I think I do,” replied Maynard meaningly, with a quick side glance at -Hal’s troubled face. “But I can’t prove I’m right, I suppose. Seems to -me it would be the decent thing for one of you to own up, though.” - -Again Hal started to speak and again Joe interrupted. “Oh, piffle, -Maynard! A fellow’s innocent until he’s proved guilty. Anyway, I guess -the――the circumstantial evidence is all you need.” - -“All right, have it your way, Kenton. You know where the evidence -points. I’m sorry to have――I’m sorry it happened. Good night.” - -“I’m sorry, too,” answered Joe soberly. “Good night, Maynard.” - -The door closed behind the proctor and Joe snapped off the light. After -a long moment of silence: “What did you do that for?” demanded Hal, -truculently. - -“Well, he was sure it was one of us. If I don’t play Saturday it won’t -much matter. If you don’t, it’ll matter a lot. You’re the only one of -us who can hit Cross, and unless some one hits him we’re going to get -licked. Besides, I didn’t lie to him.” - -When Joe had struggled into his pajamas and crawled into bed Hal spoke -again. “Mighty decent of you,” he said. “Don’t know that I’d have done -it for you.” - -“Wouldn’t expect you to. I didn’t do it for you, so that needn’t worry -you. I did it for the team; or the school; or maybe just because I want -to see Munson beaten.” - -“Oh,” replied Hal in relieved tones. “That’s different!” A minute later -he added: “Sorry you’re in a mess, though.” - -“That doesn’t matter. G’night!” - -Doctor Whitlock seemed the next day much more grieved than Joe. Of -course, the doctor explained gently, it meant probation for the balance -of the term, and probation meant that he wouldn’t be allowed to take -part in athletics, but in view of the fact that Kenton had maintained -good standing for the school year and was well up near the head of his -class there would be no further――ah――penalties inflicted. Joe thanked -him gravely. Outside again, he laughed mirthlessly. Just what other -penalty, he wondered, did the principal think mattered now? - -He and Hal had not mentioned last evening’s incident again. For that -matter, there had not been many opportunities, for they had seen each -other but a few minutes before breakfast. While dressing Hal had -seemed morose and out of sorts. After the interview in the office Joe -returned to Number 14. He might have gone over to the field and watched -practice, and would have done so if he hadn’t funked the explanations -that would have been required of him. There was a bad ten minutes just -at dusk when Bob Stearns came in. The captain was hurt rather than -angry and said one or two things that made Joe want to crawl under a -bed――or weep. But he went away finally, leaving Joe feeling very small -and mean, and liking Bob more than ever for the things he might have -said and hadn’t. Then there was another knock and Joe’s silence didn’t -protect him, for “Granny” Maynard opened the door and descried the lone -occupant of the study in the twilight. - -“Mind if I come in a minute, Kenton?” he asked. “You know the fact is -I feel particularly rotten about what’s happened and I do wish it had -been some one else besides me. How bad did they treat you?” - -“Not very, thanks. Pro, of course. You needn’t feel badly, though. You -only did what you had to.” - -“I know, but――being proctor is fairly rotten sometimes. If it wasn’t -for the difference it makes in my term bill I’d quit it. But I really -can’t afford to. I suppose you’re out of the game to-morrow?” - -“Oh, yes. But my being out of it won’t matter much.” - -“Not so much as Norwin,” said Maynard significantly. - -“Norwin? Oh, no! Hal’s the best player we’ve got. Don’t you think so?” - -“I’m not much of an authority, but I’ve heard it said that he is.” -There was a moment of silence. “It’s none of my business, Kenton, but I -must say I think it was very decent of you.” - -“Thanks,” replied the other dryly. “What?” - -“I guess you know what I mean. I’d rather not put it in words -because――well, I’m not supposed to know anything about it.” Maynard -laughed as he arose. “As I said before, Kenton, I’m beastly sorry.” He -held out his hand and Joe, a trifle surprised, took it. “Hope we win -to-morrow, eh?” - -“Rather!” agreed Joe. After Maynard had gone he frowned into the -darkness beyond the open window. “He knows. Or he thinks he knows. -Well, it doesn’t matter. Nothing does――much. I wonder if I told Hal the -truth last night, though. Did I do it for the school or didn’t I? Of -course I want Holman’s to win, but――I don’t know! But I’d hate to have -him suspect that――that――oh, shucks, that’s tommyrot! Why _should_ I do -it on his account? Of course I didn’t! Surly brute!” - -Hal came in a few minutes later. He didn’t see Joe until he had turned -the light on. Then: “Hello!” he said awkwardly. - -“Hello. How did practice go?” - -“All right, I guess. Wilder played second.” - -Joe nodded. “I supposed he would. That ought to please you.” - -“Me? Why?” - -“You wanted him there, didn’t you?” - -“Sure! With you out of it――” - -“I mean before. Last month.” - -“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” - -“Oh, rot! You tried your best to get Wilder on second in place of me, -didn’t you?” - -“Who told you that?” demanded Hal sternly. - -“Why, I don’t know that any one exactly _told_ me. Anyhow, it didn’t -matter much. He’s got the place finally.” - -“So you’ve been holding that in for me?” sneered Hal. “Let me tell you, -then, that I did not try to get Wilder on second. I didn’t even want -him there. Why would I? You’re the better player.” - -“Oh!” murmured Joe, somewhat blankly. - -“Yes, ‘oh!’” retorted the other. “I don’t say I wouldn’t have tried for -Wilder if I’d wanted him. But I just didn’t. Now chew that over.” - -“All right. But I thought――” - -“You’re always thinking something that isn’t so,” grumbled Hal. “I’ll -bet you’re doing it right now, too!” - -“What do you mean?” - -“You’re thinking that I――that I let you take the blame for last night -because I want to play to-morrow,” flared Hall. “I do, but, if that was -all I wouldn’t have let you. I’m standing for it because I know plaguey -well that if I don’t play we’ll get beaten. Oh, I dare say that sounds -cocky, but it’s so. I can hit Cross’s curves and not another one of you -fellows can come anywhere near ’em.” - -“I know, and I’m not kicking, am I? I said it was me because I knew -we’d get ‘Finis’ written all over us if you were out of the game. So -what’s the use of chewing the rag about it now?” - -“Because I won’t have you think I’m a――a sneak and a coward! And you do -think so――inside.” - -“I don’t!” - -Hal had come close and now he stood staring down at Joe menacingly. -“You don’t?” he demanded suspiciously. - -“No, I don’t.” - -“All right. _See_ that you don’t. If I thought you were lying I’d――I’d -knock your head off! Mind you, I appreciate what you’ve done for me――” - -“_You!_” shouted Joe, jumping up. “For _you_? Don’t you dare say I did -it for you! I did it because I wanted to.” He waved a finger under the -other’s nose. “Just one more crack like that and I’ll punch your ugly -face in!” - -“I didn’t mean me personally,” growled Hal. “Anyhow, we understand each -other, I guess.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -A SACRIFICE FOR KENTON - - -Holman’s School had won the first contest with Munson, and she wanted -very much to win the second and do away with the necessity of playing -a third on neutral territory. This warm, blue-and-gold June afternoon -found them well matched and eager, how well matched is shown by the -fact that until the sixth inning neither side scored. Then Prentiss -got Holman’s first hit, a rather scratchy affair at that, and although -Cummins was thrown out at first Prentiss reached second. Cross, -Munson’s really remarkable twirler, let down long enough to pass Wilder -and, with one down, Holman’s cheered hopefully. “Babe” Linder flied out -to shortstop, however, and it remained for Cochran, Holman’s left-hand -pitcher, to do the trick, or, rather, to bring it about. Cochran was -no batsman, and he knew it, just as every one else did, but he had a -wonderful faculty for getting in the way of the ball. I’m not prepared -to say that it was intentional, but Cochran’s average was just about -one base per game owing to being struck by a pitched ball. This time -he got it on the thigh, started right off for first and, it may be, -decided the matter for an umpire who was inclined for an instant to -be doubtful. That filled the bases and there was a good deal of noise -from coaches and spectators, and Cross, disgruntled, sought revenge by -trying to catch Stearns off second, or by pretending to. At all events -the ball went over the shortstop’s head, Prentiss scored and Stearns -raced for third but was caught when the center fielder pegged a swift -one to the third sack. - -But Munson evened things up in the eighth, just when the home team had -visions of a one-to-nothing victory, by getting two clean hits off -Cochran and combining them with a clever steal. And at 1――1 the game -dragged――no, it never dragged for an instant. But at 1――1 it stayed -until the last of the eleventh. Holman’s had no hope of doing anything -in that particular inning, for the tail end of her batting list was up: -Wilder, Linder, Cochran. But you never can tell when the break will -come. Wilder was passed, Babe Linder laid down a sacrifice bunt and -Cochran, in spite of almost Herculean efforts, took the fourth ball -pitched squarely on his shoulder! Cross complained bitterly when the -rival pitcher was waved to first, and I think the incident affected his -delivery. At all events, Torrey, left fielder and head of the batting -list, rolled one toward third and after baseman and pitcher had each -politely left it to the other during a tragic moment the latter threw -late to first. With bases filled, but one out and Hal Norwin swinging -his two bats as he stepped to the plate, there could have been but one -outcome. Cross had to pitch ’em and he knew it. Perhaps Cross already -read the writing on the wall, for Hal said afterwards that that third -delivery came to him with nothing on it but a sunbeam. He said that -it looked so good he was almost afraid of it. Possibly Cross intended -he should be. But Hal didn’t scare quite so easily as that, and so he -took a fine healthy swing at it and it traveled. It went straight and -far and came safe to earth yards out of reach of right fielder and to -Cummins went the honor of scoring the winning tally! - -Joe didn’t march back to the campus with the triumphant horde but -cut across back of the gymnasium and made his way to Number 14 in a -somewhat depressed frame of mind. He had watched the game from start -to finish and was well satisfied at the outcome, but he hadn’t been -happy. When you have worked hard from February on to win your position -and have set your heart on playing in the Big Game, why, you just can’t -help feeling a bit glum when the Big Game finds you perched among the -noncombatants of the grandstand. I don’t think Joe really regretted -what he had done. One can be sad without being sorry. But there were -moments when he was rather self-contemptuous, when he told himself that -he had done a silly, quixotic thing for which no one thanked him. - -They were still cheering and singing over in front of School Hall when -he reached his room, and the sounds came to him around the corner of -the building and floated in at the open window. Although it was nearly -five o’clock the golden sunlight still streamed across the meadows -beyond the little river and save for the disturbing and discordant -sounds from the campus the world was dreamily silent. It was beautiful, -too, with the fresh, new green of grass and leaves and the peaceful sky -and the mellow sunlight, but he was glad that in a few more days he -would see the last of it for a while. In fact, he wasn’t sure that he -ever wanted to return to Holman’s. He felt so horribly like a failure. - -The shadows lengthened and the sunlight became tinged with flame. The -dormitory echoed to laughter and the tramp of feet and the slamming -of doors. Then, presently, his own door opened and Hal came in, -bustlingly, radiating triumph and high spirits. “Some game, Joe!” he -cried. “By jiminy, though, I thought they had us for a while! Didn’t -you?” - -“Yes,” replied Joe listlessly. “Cross was in great form.” - -“Wasn’t he? I couldn’t get near him――until the last inning. Well, we -won, thank goodness!” - -Joe made no answer and Hal busied himself at the washstand. After a -while: “You’re coming to the dinner, aren’t you?” asked the latter. - -Joe hesitated. He had forgotten that the team would dine in state -to-night in the visitors’ hall, with speeches and songs and at the end -of the modest banquet, the election of a new captain. “I don’t know,” -he said finally. “I suppose I have a right to, but――” - -“Of course you have. Any fellow who has played on the team during the -season has. I asked because――” Hal hesitated, and Joe, looking across, -saw him as near embarrassment as he ever got. “The fact is,” he began -again, and again stopped. - -“Don’t worry,” said Joe. “I intend to, anyway.” - -“Intend to what?” asked Hal, looking puzzledly over the towel with -which he was drying his face. - -“Vote for you for captain.” - -“Oh, that! Thanks, but you needn’t if you’d rather not. I sha’n’t mind -if you don’t. That isn’t what I was going to say, though.” He tossed -the towel aside and, hands in pockets, came over to the window. “Look -here, Joe. I haven’t been feeling any too easy yesterday and to-day. -I thought it was all right to let you take the blame for――for my -foolishness because it might mean winning the game to-day. And I guess -it did mean that, as it’s turned out. But I’ve sort of hated myself, -just the same, and I guess what I ought to have done was stand the -racket myself and let the game look after _itself_. But I didn’t and -post mortems don’t get you anything. But there’s no reason for carrying -the thing any further. What we’ve got to do now is get you squared up -with faculty and the school and――and every one. So I’m going to tell -’em the truth at dinner to-night.” - -“That’s a brilliant idea!” scoffed Joe. - -“Why not?” - -“Why not? Because there’ll be at least two faculty there, and if you -think they’ll let you accept the captaincy after ’fessing up to that -stunt you’re all wrong.” - -“I don’t. They’ll have me in probation to-morrow, of course. That isn’t -the question.” - -“Of course it’s the question,” said Joe impatiently. “You’re -practically sure of the captaincy. I know it and so do you. If faculty -gets this on you you’re a goner. Besides, what good’s it going to do -any one? School’s over in three days, and just as long as they’re going -to let me pass with my class I don’t mind three days in bounds.” - -“That’s all right,” replied Hal stubbornly, “but right is right. I let -you suffer because I wanted to win the game. The game’s won. Now it’s -my turn to stand the gaff.” - -“And lose the captaincy!” - -Hal shrugged. “I know. I thought of that, though. It can’t be helped. -Besides――” - -“It _can_ be helped!” said Joe angrily. “All you need to do is get this -fool idea out of your head. You talk like a――a sick fish!” - -“Just the same――” - -“No, sir! I won’t stand for it! What sort of a silly fool do you think -I’d feel like with you getting up before all that bunch and――and -spouting all that rot? If you tell that yarn I’ll deny it!” - -Hal smiled. “I can prove it, though. I can produce five fellows who -will testify that I was in Gus Billing’s room at eleven o’clock that -night.” - -“Is _that_ where you were?” asked Joe eagerly. - -“Yes.” - -“Oh! Why, that isn’t――there’s no harm――” - -“Of course there’s no harm, but I stayed too late. Gus’s clock was -about an hour slow and I never thought to look at my watch. Anyhow, it -won’t do you any good to deny it, Joe.” - -“Well, then――” Joe spoke slowly, frowning intently across the shadowy -room. “Maybe you sort of feel that you――you owe me something. Of course -I didn’t do it just for――just to oblige you, but you wanted to win, and -I guess I helped――” - -“Of course I owe you something. I’m trying to make you understand it. -And I’m going to pay what I owe.” - -“Not that way,” replied Joe firmly. “If you do want to――to square -things there’s just one way you can do it.” - -“How’s that?” asked Hal suspiciously. - -“Forget it!” - -“No, sir!” - -“Yes, I mean it, Hal.” Their eyes challenged. After a moment Hal -shrugged. - -“All right,” he said, “but I don’t get your idea. It isn’t as if you’d -done it for me――” He stopped and there was a long moment of silence. -Then he asked brusquely: “You didn’t, did you?” - -“No!” answered the other. Hal walked over, picked up his jacket and -began to put it on. “And what if I did?” added Joe defiantly. - -Hal stopped with one sleeve on. “I knew mighty well you did,” he -growled. - -“You know a lot, don’t you?” grumbled Joe sarcastically. - -“I know that if you don’t wash up and get ready we’ll be late,” laughed -Hal. “Get a move on, Grumpy!” - -“Well――but no speeches, Hal!” - -“Nary a spooch!” - -Joe splashed and gurgled and Hal watched, grinning broadly. Presently -he observed carelessly: “I say, Joe, we’ve only got two more days to -get our application in if we want this room next year.” - -Joe dried his face with unusual care. “That’s right,” he said at last. -“Guess we’d better get busy, eh?” - - * * * * * - -Maynard fell in with Naylor, assistant manager, on his way out. Naylor -was still figuring his totals in the official score book and Maynard -peered over his shoulder. - -“What did you give Kenton on that last play?” he asked. - -“Kenton? Kenton wasn’t in it, you idiot! Wilder played――” - -“Still,” said “Granny” soberly, “I think you should have credited him -with a sacrifice.” - -And he went on, leaving Naylor looking after him commiseratingly. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -FRIENDS AT OUTS - - -Hal won the captaincy, and two days later he and Joe and Bert Madden -started for home. About three hundred other youths also started for -home, but none of them lived in Central City, and so, beyond the -Junction, Joe and Hal and Bert went on westward alone. Bert was well -over seventeen and would be a senior next year, as would Hal, a year -younger. Joe, who was Hal’s age within a few months, was returning to -Holman’s in the fall as a junior. He and Hal had been friendly at high -school, and when Hal had decided to go to Holman’s for the last two -years Joe had decided to go also. It wasn’t so easy for Joe, however, -for Joe’s folks weren’t wealthy by any means, while Hal’s were. But he -had found employment last summer and worked hard, and, when September -had arrived, his earnings, with what his father had been able to -provide, had been sufficient to put him through the first year. - -It wasn’t going to be nearly so hard next fall, for Mr. Kenton’s -business had improved. Nevertheless, Joe meant to find some sort of -employment for the summer months, and on the journey home this matter -occupied his thoughts a good deal of the way. He couldn’t go back to -Murray and Bankhead’s, for his place there was occupied permanently -by another, but he was certain that he could find a job of some sort. -While Joe considered ways and means, Hal was telling Bert about the -good time he was going to have at his father’s camp up north and Bert -was picturing the delights of summer life at one of the nearby summer -resorts. Hal had invited Joe to visit the camp some time toward the -last of the summer and Joe had half accepted the invitation. He didn’t -really expect to get there though. - -Hal left town about a week after their return home, and Joe missed him -a good deal at first, even though they didn’t get together very often -in Central City. Hal moved in a different circle than Joe. Looking for -work, however, occupied much of Joe’s time during that week and the -next, for he had been home more than a fortnight before he secured the -job with Donaldson and Burns, who operated the Central City Market. -His principal duty was to deliver by bicycle, orders that could not -await the trucks or that had been forgotten by them. When not occupied -in that way he sometimes helped to put up orders. His hours were from -eight to five, save on Saturdays, when the store kept open until nine. -Thursday afternoons he had off, for in Central City Thursday was the -weekly half holiday from July to September. - -It was on the first Thursday afternoon after starting to work that -he sat on an empty soap box by the window of the stable loft and -listlessly distributed type from a “stick” in his left hand to the -case before him. The July day was hot, and from the printing press -that stood on a stout packing case came a strong though not unpleasant -odor of fresh ink. Joe wasn’t very happy this afternoon. On a shelf -under the type case lay the results of his recent labor, twelve printed -invitations still sticky from the press. Now, having distributed the -last of the type, he lifted one of the invitations, held it at arm’s -length and read it. Beginning in script, it ran the gamut of Old -English, italics and small Roman, and it read as follows: - - You are Cordially Invited - to Attend a House Warming at - Camp Peejay, Squirrel Lake, - Thursday, July 6. - Philip Levering Joe Kenton - R. S. V. P. - -It really looked awfully well, but he couldn’t get much of a thrill -from that fact since, as sightly as they were, those invitations would -probably never be used. - -Until yesterday all had gone well. After work, with Philip reading the -copy, Joe had finished the typesetting, and then, triumphantly, they -had pulled a smudgy proof and viewed it with pride and elation. Just -why at such a joyous moment the subject of painting the camp should -have crept into the conversation is beyond knowledge, but it did, -and half an hour later the two friends had parted in enmity, Philip -flinging back as he clanged the front gate behind him: “Then I guess -there won’t be any housewarming!” and Joe replying haughtily: “Suits me -all right!” - -They had started the camp in April during Joe’s week of vacation, -dragging the timbers and boards from Loomis’s mill behind Mr. -Levering’s Ford. By the end of the week it was complete even to the two -windows, and they had stood off and viewed their work with pleasurable -emotion. Everything about it was delectable: the tar-papered roof that -smelled so gloriously in the spring sunshine, the little four-foot, -uncovered porch that ran the ten-foot length of the front, the door -that wouldn’t quite close unless you put your full weight against it, -the little square windows――everything! - -“Gee,” Philip had exclaimed, “it will look perfectly corking when we -get it painted!” - -And Joe had agreed heartily. What color it was to be painted hadn’t -been discussed then. The painting of it was to await Joe’s home coming -in June. It nearly broke their hearts that they couldn’t enjoy their -handiwork, but Joe was returning to school the next day, and so they -finally clicked the padlock on the door and, not without many backward -looks, left the cabin behind. - -Philip had guarded it as well as he could during the ensuing two -months, but Joe had received one heartbroken letter from him in May -in which he told of going out to Squirrel Lake and finding the cabin -broken into and both window panes smashed. - -“It was ‘Bull’ Jones and Harper Merrill and that crowd that did it,” -Philip had stated, “but you can’t prove anything on them.” - -Philip had repaired damages and when Joe got back the last of June the -cabin had not been again molested. - -Since then the two boys had found time to furnish the camp. They had -put in an old stove from the Kenton attic, a table and two chairs -and a camp cot――some day they meant to have another cot――and cooking -things and tin plates and so on until the furnishings threatened to -exclude the occupants. The housewarming idea had been Joe’s. It would, -he explained, be dandy to issue invitations and have, say, about -ten of the fellows out there for supper. They could go out in the -Fullerton bus and walk back by moonlight. Joe wasn’t certain about the -moonlight, but he hoped for the best. Philip accepted the idea with -enthusiasm, making but one reservation: none of Bull Jones’s crowd -should be asked! To this Joe agreed unhesitatingly, even passionately, -and that evening they had arranged a menu for the supper, counted their -cash on hand and composed the invitations. The next day Joe had brushed -the dust from the printing press in the stable loft and, with Philip -aiding, set type, worked the lever of the neglected press and pulled a -proof. - -Joe laid the invitations back now with a frown. He wondered why he had -gone to the trouble of printing them, since they would never be used. -Even if he and Philip made up again later, those cards wouldn’t be any -good, for there was the date set forth plainly: “Thursday, July 6.” And -that was only a week from to-day, and Joe was very, very sure that he -couldn’t be persuaded to forgive Philip in any such brief space of time -as a week! - -He turned moodily away and looked out of the window. On the Merrill’s -back porch Harper and Pete Brooks were doing something with a board -and some wire. Harper kept rabbits and perhaps the contrivance had -something to do with them. Joe wasn’t interested, anyway. If he had -been he could easily have gained enlightenment for the porch was only -fifty feet away and the back of the house acted like a sounding board -and threw the voices of the two boys right in at the window. But Joe -was busy with his thoughts. - -After all, he supposed it didn’t matter much whether Camp Peejay was -painted red or green. Only, having held out for green, he wasn’t going -to give in now, especially as Philip had acted so pig-headed and -selfish. Viewing the question calmly, he wasn’t sure that Philip’s -argument was not quite tenable. Philip had said that if they painted -the camp green it wouldn’t show up well amongst the trees, and that, -besides, red was a better color for winter, looking warmer and more -cozy. Even before they had parted in anger, Joe had felt himself -inclining toward red, but by that time too many things had been said! -Gee, it was a mighty unimportant thing to quarrel about! Even in the -matter of finding a name for the camp there had been no clash of -opinion, although Joe had been secretly of the notion that, since the -idea had originated with him, Jaypee would have been more proper, if -less euphonious, than Peejay. Well, anyway, what was done was done, -and if Philip expected that he, Joe, was going to back down and -lick his boots he was mightily mistaken! No, sir, by jiminy! Philip -could――could―― - -His indignant musings were disturbed. A new voice, loud and compelling, -came in at the window. On the Merrill back porch Bull Jones had added -his bulky presence to the group. Joe looked down and scowled. Bull was -a bully and a braggart, the ringleader of the other crowd, the evil -genius who had so nearly put an end to Camp Peejay, and Joe detested -him so thoroughly that the mere sight of him was enough to re-rumple -Joe’s brow. But the scowl of dislike gave way to one of incredulity. -Bull was outlining in perfectly audible tones a scheme never intended -for Joe’s ears! It was plain that none of the three on the porch knew -that he was at the window. Perhaps the sunlight’s glare masked him, or -perhaps they had not thought to look. That as may have been, Joe acted -promptly. He slid swiftly from the box, extended himself full length -on the floor, well out of sight, and listened avidly. Fifteen minutes -later, the group on the porch having departed, he arose, abstractedly -dusted his clothes and seated himself again on the box giving himself -over to deep thought. The shaft of sunlight moved backward the space of -one dusty floor board before Joe arrived at a course of action. Then, -guiltily conscious of wasted moments, he seized his cap from the floor -and raced down the stairs and out into the yard. The shortest way to -Crown Street was via the side fence and the Martin’s rhubarb patch. -This route was attended by some risk, for Mrs. Martin’s ideas on the -subject of trespass were extremely narrow, but the present occasion -seemed to Joe to warrant risk, and he took it. Reaching the top of -the board fence by means of the grape trellis, he landed astride the -bursting crinkly head of a rhubarb plant, cast a swift and anxious -glance at the kitchen door and dodged under the pear trees to the -further side of the yard. For once no strident voice bade him halt, and -in a jiffy he had vaulted the privet hedge and was safe. - -Philip lived a dozen houses southward, and while yet two doors distant -Joe knew that Philip was at home. The excruciating wail of Philip’s -violin floated sadly forth on the afternoon air. Joe smiled as he -heard. Philip’s practice hour ordinarily ended at four, and here it -was long after, and the inference was clear that he was prolonging the -agony merely because the quarrel with his chum had left him with no -better way of spending the time. In front of the Levering house Joe -stopped and gazed frowningly up at the open window of the room above -the porch. The practice paused for an instant and he raised his voice -in the accustomed hail: - -“_Oo-ee-e-e!_” - -Philip appeared at the casement and looked down. Joe had made up -his mind that if Philip’s face showed triumph over his friend’s -capitulation the reconciliation should go no farther. But it didn’t. -Philip’s countenance expressed faint surprise, instantly suppressed, -and then casual and wary interest. - -“Hello!” he said. - -“Hello!” answered Joe. - -Philip worried the curtain cord with his bow for a moment. Finally, -after a gulp that was almost audible below: “Come on up,” he said. - -Joe glanced up the street and then down, as though doubtful that his -manifold interests would permit of his accepting the invitation. In the -end, however, he nodded. “All right,” he answered. Then, as if fearing -he had shown too eager a spirit, he added: “Got something to tell you.” - -It was Philip’s turn to nod, and, having done so, he disappeared from -the window and Joe went, not too hurriedly, through the gate and in at -the door. Philip awaited him, as usual, at the top of the stairway. -Each ventured a doubtful and fleeting grin as they met, and then -Philip closed the door of the little room and Joe flung himself on the -bright-hued afghan that covered the bed by day. Having landed there, -he reflected that he had meant to comport himself somewhat haughtily -while making it clear to his host that only a matter of extraordinary -importance would have brought him. But it was too late now. He glanced -at the violin on the chair and then at the music rack with the bow -lying along the ledge. - -“Practicing?” he asked. - -Philip nodded and Joe continued mercilessly. “Sort of late, ain’t -you?” he inquired. Philip’s gaze wandered evasively. - -“I got started kind of late,” he murmured. Then, realizing that the -statement was not quite the truth, he amended it. “There wasn’t much -else to do,” he said. - -Joe stifled a triumphant chuckle. “Say,” he substituted, “did you tell -Charley Nagel about――about the housewarming?” - -“Kind of,” answered Philip. “I told him we were going to ask some of -the fellows out to the camp Saturday.” - -“Gee! Didn’t you know he’d go and tell Bull and that bunch?” - -“Sure! I wanted him to,” replied the other stoutly. “After the way -those fellows acted――” - -“Well, you went and made a mess of it,” said Joe sternly. “Bull and his -crowd are going out there to-night. They’re going to bust the door in -and use our things and have a feed!” - -“_Wha-a-t!_ How do you know?” - -Joe told him. “Bull said they’d ‘warm the house’ for us,” he added -bitterly. “They’re going to take a steak and some onions and some -ginger ale and――” - -“Who’s going?” demanded Philip frowningly. - -“The whole bunch: Bull and Harper and Pete and Dill Treadway and all -those. Charley Nagel, too, I suppose. Six or seven, probably.” - -“When?” - -Joe shrugged. “Guess they’re on the way now. They went to get Dill and -some others about half an hour ago. Then they had to buy the steak and -things.” Joe looked at his nickel watch. “Probably they’re just about -starting. I thought you’d want to know.” - -Philip nodded thoughtfully. “Of course,” he muttered. “But I guess -it’s too late to do anything. That’s a tough crowd, Joe, and they love -a scrap. Even if we could get some of our crowd to go out there we -couldn’t drive those fellows away. Gee, I wish I hadn’t said anything -to Charley!” - -“So do I,” said Joe morosely. “They’ll just about wreck the camp! And -use up all our things too.” - -Philip agreed gloomily. “Potatoes and coffee and everything! If we -could only get out there ahead of them――” - -“We can’t.” - -Silence fell. Presently Philip arose and quietly returned the violin to -its case and relegated the music stand to the closet. Joe watched him -anxiously. He had firm faith in Philip’s wit and wisdom, but it seemed -that here was a problem too difficult for the chum’s solving, and Joe’s -hope languished. Outside, the evening shadows were lengthening fast. -The strident whistling of the carroty-haired youth who delivered the -evening paper grew near and there was a gentle thud as the damp copy of -the _Evening Star_ landed against the front door below. - -“There’s the paper,” murmured Joe dejectedly. - -“Get it if you like,” said Philip in abstracted tones. - -He had seated himself again, hands in pockets and his long legs stuck -out across the faded ingrain art-square. Joe murmured indifference -to the _Star_ and Philip continued to stare at the floor. Five -o’clock struck from the steeple of the Presbyterian Church and Joe -instinctively listened for the screech of the eastbound express as it -reached the trestle. But before it came Philip lifted his head suddenly -and exploded a question in the silence. - -“What time does it get dark?” he demanded. - -“Dark? Why, about seven, I guess,” replied Joe, startled. - -“Think they’ll have their supper before that?” - -“I don’t know. Why? If they get out there by five――” - -“They won’t,” interrupted the other decisively. “It’s a mile and a -half. Suppose they got the crowd rounded up and bought their things in -half an hour. They’d get started about a quarter to five. Walking, the -way they would, they’d take a good half hour to get there. Then they’d -have to get into the cabin, and that would take them five or maybe ten -minutes longer. Well, suppose they began to prepare supper right off, -which they wouldn’t, it would take them another half hour to make the -fire and peel the onions and all that, wouldn’t it?” - -“Why, sure,” agreed Joe. “More than a half hour. They’d make Charley -and Dill do the work, and they’re as slow as snails. What are you -getting at, though?” - -“I’m trying to figure out when they’d have that supper ready to eat. I -don’t believe it would be ready much before seven.” - -“Maybe not, but as I’m not going to eat it, it doesn’t mean much in my -life.” - -“Wouldn’t you eat some of it if you had a chance?” asked Philip, -chuckling. - -“With that gang of thugs?” retorted the other indignantly. “I would -not!” - -“Suppose they weren’t there, though?” suggested Philip gently. - -“Weren’t there! Say, you’ve got a scheme! What’s it?” - -Philip smiled. “Maybe I have,” he answered. “See what you think of it.” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -GHOSTS - - -Something like a half hour later Philip and Joe passed out of Central -City on the road that led to Squirrel Lake. The sun was still above -the purple, hazy hills beyond the river, but it was sinking fast. The -warmth of the day was gone and a perceptible chill lay in the shadowed -reaches of the turnpike as the chums pursued their unhurried way. -As Philip said, there was nothing to be gained by getting to Camp -Peejay before early dark, for daylight was no factor in the successful -operation of his plan, and so they purposely walked slowly. Each was -lightly burdened, Philip with his violin case, Joe with a bundle that -was no larger and scarcely as heavy. They had taken time to change into -their old clothes before starting. Their conversation consisted largely -of anxious calculations to determine the probable supper hour at the -camp. Philip held stoutly that the steak and onions would not be ready -for consumption before darkness had fallen on the banks of Squirrel -Lake, while Joe chose to be a bit pessimistic and prophesied that by -the time they got there the repast would be over with. - -The sun went down presently behind Squaw Ridge, leaving the western sky -aflame with orange light. The shadows in the woods, on the travelers’ -right, deepened. From a marsh came the harsh croakings of frogs. A -frail silver moon sailed well above the tree tops, increasing in -radiance as the colors faded from the west. Twilight was well on them -when the two boys left the road and, proceeding cautiously along the -winding wood path, finally came within sight of the cabin. - -Philip halted while still a safe distance away and set down his burden, -motioning Joe to do likewise. Ahead of them through the still barren -branches of the trees they could see the unpainted cabin, plain against -the shadows of the forest and the steel-gray, unruffled surface of the -lake. From the window at the nearer end shone a light and from the -stovepipe that pierced the roof orange-colored sparks floated upward to -fade against the gloom of the big pine beyond, indicating that a brisk -fire still burned in the stove. Sounds, too, reached them as they stood -there in the growing dusk; the sound of laughter and of singing, and, -once, the unmistakable clatter of a tin dish against the stove. Philip -smiled. - -“They haven’t eaten yet,” he whispered. “They wouldn’t have as much of -a fire if they were through cooking.” - -Joe nodded doubtful agreement and waited for orders. Philip viewed the -scene of battle with the all-seeing eye of a general. Then: “The other -side’s best,” he whispered. “We’d better go around at the back. Look -where you’re going and, for the love of lemons, don’t let them hear -you!” - -Began then a journey of detour that tried Joe’s patience to the limit. -The trees, young maples and beech, with here and there a spectral -birch, grew close, and between them had crowded saplings and bushes, -and progress and silence were incompatible from the first. Fortunately, -there was so much noise within the cabin that a little of it outside -went unheeded by the revelers, and after ten painful minutes the -conspirators reached the side of the cabin away from the road. Again -depositing their luggage, they seated themselves behind a screening -bush and waited. It was already dusk, there in the woods; a stone’s -throw away, the lake lay placid and shadowed, tiny wavelets lapped on -the pebbles, their sound heard, however, only in the interims between -the noises that issued through the open window of the cabin. Presently -Philip gently removed the wrappings of the bundle and unfolded its -contents. It lay, a pallid blur, in the darkness. Then he settled once -more to the irksome task of waiting. Through the square of window the -light of the hanging lantern within threw a path of fast-deepening -radiance toward them. At times unrecognizable forms shadowed the -casement. From the fact that those in the cabin still moved about and -sang, and shouted to each other above the singing, the watchers were -assured that the supper was still in course of preparation. From Joe -came a deep sigh. - -“Isn’t it dark enough yet?” he whispered. - -Philip looked about through the forest. “Pretty near,” he answered. -“We’ll wait five minutes longer.” - -A hand went out and he drew the violin case closer. - -In the cabin, Harper Merrill lifted the larger of the two thick steaks -on a fork and peered at it doubtfully in the dim light. “I guess this -one’s done,” he announced. “Try the potatoes, Pete.” - -“They’re all right. Falling to pieces, some of ’em. Come on and――” - -“Set that coffee back!” yelled Harper. “Gosh, you fellows would stand -around and not move a hand! Find a knife, Dill, and I’ll cut this up.” - -“I don’t see but three plates,” announced Bull Jones disgustedly. “How -we going to manage?” - -“Guess those guys didn’t plan to entertain so soon,” chuckled Gus -Baldwin, who, with Charley Nagel, completed the company. “I’ll eat mine -in my fingers.” - -“Got the bread out?” asked Harper impatiently. “Why don’t you open some -of that ginger ale, Bull?” - -“Haven’t any opener, that’s why! You forgot to ask for one.” - -“I didn’t forget any more than you did,” Harper replied truculently, -having just singed his fingers on the frying-pan. “I had enough to do, -didn’t I? I bought the steak and the onions――” - -“Gosh!” exclaimed Dill. “What was that? Listen, fellows! Shut up a -minute, Harp!” - -Comparative quiet fell and all stood motionless. Harper with a steak -held above the pan. There was no sound save the _lap-lapping_ of the -wavelets. “I don’t hear anything,” growled Bull. “What did you think――” - -But Bull didn’t have to conclude, for suddenly on the stillness there -came the most appalling moan imaginable. It began low and deep and -went on and up to end in a shuddering wail of anguish, dying away in -the silence and darkness at last to leave the six boys staring at each -other with wide eyes and tingling scalps. For a long moment after -the sound was still none moved or spoke. Then Pete Brooks asked in a -dry-lipped whisper: - -“What is it?” - -Bull shook his shoulders and laughed, but the laugh was certainly -forced. “Nothing but a cow,” he declared loudly. “Lost her calf, -maybe.” - -“It wasn’t any cow,” protested Harper soberly. “Besides, it came from -the lake. Maybe it was a loon!” - -“Loons don’t make a noise like that,” said Charley Nagel, shaking his -head and looking uneasily at the window. - -“Well, whatever it was,” said Bull grandly, “it cuts no ice with me. -What you holding that beefsteak up there for, Harp? Trying to cool it? -Gee, any one would think you’d seen a ghost, to look at you!” - -Harper smiled twistedly and put the steak back. From the next pan came -the pungent odor of scorching onions, and he pushed the pan further -from the fire and looked about for a knife. Then it came again! - -It was less a moan than a high-keyed, quivery scream this time, a -scream of fear and pain that made the listeners’ hair lift on their -heads and sent horrid cold shivers down their spines. No face in the -cabin held much color when the last intolerable note passed sobbing -away into the silence. Six boys stared stiffly at the window. A long -moment went by. Charley Nagel sniffed then and Bull turned to him -angrily. - -“What’s your trouble?” he demanded. “What you scared of? Gosh, the lot -of you look like you were dying!” - -“You do, too,” whimpered Charley. “I――I want to go home!” he ended in a -wail. - -“Oh, shut up! Whatever it is, it’s just a――just a noise, ain’t it? Come -on, Pete! Let’s have a look.” He took an unenthusiastic step toward -the window. Pete hung back, however. “What you afraid of?” jeered -Bull, finding courage in brow-beating the others. “Well, I’m going to, -anyway.” - -Shamed into it, Pete followed to the end of the little shack, and after -a hesitant moment all save Charley did likewise. At the window Bull -peered out. Before him the path of light led off into the forest. Right -and left lay only gloom and the dimly seen trunks of trees. “Told you -there wasn’t anything,” he growled. “Some sort of owl or something, I -guess. Gee, you fellows――” - -“_What’s that?_” stammered Pete, leaning across his shoulder. “_Look!_” - -Bull looked and saw. At the end of the trail of radiance was an object -that wiped away his courage and assurance as a wet sponge effaces -markings on a slate. White and ghastly it was, wavering, uncertain; now -tall and thin, now short and broad; but never still, its spectral bulk -swaying from light to shadow, from darkness to radiance with unearthly -motions. - -“_Gosh!_” gasped Bull faintly. - -Those behind pushed and shoved, holding an unwilling Bull at his post -of observation, but they couldn’t keep Pete any longer. With a grunt -of terror he hurled himself away and, seizing the nearest cap from the -banquet board, he pulled the door wide and fairly hurtled through it. -And as he went his voice broke startlingly on the air. - -“_Ghosts! Ghosts! Ghosts!_” - -Charley Nagel wasted no time in recovering his cap. He was but a scant -three yards behind Pete at the porch. And as he took the leap into the -darkness that horrible wail came again and put new power into his legs! -Behind him, although he knew it not, followed four terror-stricken -comrades. Bull and Harper, the last through the doorway, reached it -together and, since the passage was narrow, hung there for a long -instant, clawing, prancing, grunting, ere, with the desperation born -of utter demoralization, they shot through with a jar that shook the -cabin and legged it away in the darkness. In their ears sounded that -unearthly wail, that banshee cry of fear and anguish, and their blood -seemed to freeze in their veins. Bull went fair into a tree, bounded -off with a loud grunt, rolled over twice, picked himself up once more -and after that gained at every leap. - -Presently the noise of crashing underbrush, the thud-thud of flying -feet died away into silence. Once more the _lap-lap-lapping_ of the -little waves was the only sound about Camp Peejay. - -Half an hour later Philip leaned back in his chair and sighed with -repletion. Joe reached for the coffee pot and helped himself to a -third cup of that steaming beverage, but he did it in a half-hearted, -listless way that told its own story. Before the two lay the sorry -fragments of what had once been two large, thick steaks, and there -remained only traces of many fried onions and boiled potatoes. Of the -dozen bottles of ginger ale but two had been opened. The others would -be presently put away for future consideration. Philip sighed again and -pushed his tin plate further away with a gesture that almost suggested -distaste. “Gee,” he murmured, “I’ll never be able to get home to-night!” - -Joe nodded sympathetically. “Wish we’d told the folks we weren’t -coming,” he said. After a moment he added: “They didn’t come back, did -they?” - -Philip chuckled. “I knew they wouldn’t. Why, they’re almost to town -now, and I’ll bet some of them are still running! You surely did look -spooky in that sheet, Joe! I was mighty near scared myself!” - -“Don’t say anything,” replied Joe feelingly. “Every time you made those -sounds on your fiddle I nearly stopped breathing! Say, what do you -suppose they thought it was?” - -But that question had been discussed at length already and the subject -held no more interest for Philip. Instead of offering further guesses -he said: “We’d better get those invitations posted to-morrow.” - -“Yes,” agreed Joe. There followed another long and dreamy silence. Then -Philip spoke again. - -“Joe,” he said, carelessly, “I’ve been thinking about painting this -place and I sort of guess that maybe it ought to be green, like you -said. You see――――” - -“Green nothing!” exclaimed the other. “Where do you get that stuff? -Red’s the only color. Now look here――――” - -“I’m thinking maybe red would be too――too bright――――” - -“Not a bit of it! We’ll want to come here in the winter, and we’ll want -it to look――er――cheerful――――” - -“Yes, but in the summer, green――――” - -“No, sir, it’s going to be red,” declared Joe heatedly. - -“Well,” laughed Philip, “I guess there’s no sense having another -quarrel about it! We’ll paint it red. Now let’s get the things washed -up and put the place neat for the housewarming.” - -It was Friday afternoon that Philip and Joe met Pete Brooks on Common -Street. Joe was for going by with his usual curt nod, but Philip -stopped and greeted their quasi enemy affably. - -“Say, Pete, we’re going to have a sort of shindig out at the camp -to-morrow afternoon. About a dozen of us, you know. Going to have -supper and hang around awhile in the evening. Glad to have you come if -you can.” - -Pete looked hurriedly up and down the street. “I――I’d sure like to,” he -stammered, “but――but I’ve got something I――I’ve got to do to-morrow. -Sorry! Much obliged!” - -He made off quickly and Philip turned a puzzled look on his chum. - -“Acts almost like he didn’t really want to!” he murmured. - -Joe thrust his arm through Philip’s again. - -“I know it,” he agreed innocently. “Wonder why!” - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE VIGILANTES - - -“Hey, Joe! Joe Kenton!” - -Joe swung dextrously between a big red truck and a light delivery wagon -and slowed down at the curb, where, transferring one foot from pedal to -sidewalk, he balanced his bicycle beside the boy who had hailed him. - -“Hello, Sam,” he responded. “What’s it?” - -Sam Sawyer, a likable-looking boy whose manner, and attire, suggested -a leisure not enjoyed by his friend, smiled back. “Just wanted to see -you,” he answered. “Have some?” He proffered a bag of peanuts. Joe -dipped into it, but he frowned slightly as he did so. - -“I’ve got to hurry,” he said a trifle importantly. - -“Where are you going?” Sam glanced at the wire carrier affixed to the -front of the bicycle which was piled with bundles. - -“Temple Street,” replied Joe. “Mrs. Madden’s. She wants these things -for supper――I mean dinner.” - -“I should think she’d order them earlier then,” said Sam. “Say, did you -hear about Warren Scott?” - -Joe shook his head. “No. What’s it?” - -“‘What’s it!’” mimicked the other. “They got his wheel yesterday.” - -“Stole it, you mean?” asked Joe interestedly. “Who?” - -“I don’t know, you idiot. The folks who’ve been stealing all of them, -I suppose. He left it in front of Guyers’, and when he came out it was -gone.” - -“What time was it?” asked Joe. - -“I don’t know. Some time after school. Why?” - -Joe frowned in a puzzled fashion for a moment. - -“Isn’t Warren’s bicycle a Malden?” he asked then. “Purple, with white -lines?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, I saw a fellow riding along Bennett Street yesterday about a -quarter to five on a wheel that looked a lot like Warren’s. I thought, -of course, it was his, because his is the only brand-new one I’ve seen -in town, but I guess maybe it wasn’t.” - -“I’ll bet it was!” exclaimed Sam excitedly. “What sort of a looking -fellow was he? Did you know him?” - -Joe shook his head. “I never saw him before, I guess. He was about your -build, only maybe a year older, and wore dark clothes and a slouch hat. -Sort of countrified fellow, I’d say. I’d been out to Grant Avenue with -a crown roast for the Meyers, and it was about a quarter to five when -I came into Bennett Street. I was through at the store and was going -home. Bennett Street’s asphalted all the way to Ramsey, and so I turned -in there instead――――” - -“Did he look as though he was――was stealing it?” demanded Sam eagerly. - -“N-no, I just thought maybe Warren had loaned it to him. I didn’t think -it belonged to him, somehow. He――he didn’t quite look like a fellow -who’d own an expensive bicycle.” - -“Why didn’t you ask him where he got it?” asked Sam impatiently. “You -might have known it was Warren’s!” - -“Well, I did think it was, but I didn’t know it had been stolen, did -I?” replied Joe slightly indignant. - -“You might have thought of it,” said Sam, “seeing there’s been about -twenty bicycles stolen in Central City in the last two weeks! I’ll bet -I’d have asked him mighty quick! Where do you suppose he was going to -with it? Bennett Street’s more than two miles from Guyers’ place.” - -Joe shook his head. “He was riding along south when I passed him. Going -sort of fast, but not like he was in much of a hurry.” - -“Well, say, you’d better come along to Warren’s and tell him about it,” -said Sam. “Maybe the police can find it if we hurry.” - -But Joe shook his head as his alarmed glance swept from his bundles in -the carrier back over his shoulder to the City Hall clock. “I can’t -now, Sam,” he said firmly. “I’ve got to hurry like the dickens. I’ll go -around there after I get through at the store.” - -“Maybe I’d better tell him right now,” said Sam, “and you can see him -later. He ought to know as soon as possible, I guess. What time do you -get through at the store?” - -“Five, generally. Sometimes there’s a delivery after that.” - -“Well, say, Joe, I’ll beat it over to Warren’s and come back to the -store for you at five.” - -Joe nodded. “All right,” he agreed. “Maybe you’d better. I’m not sure -just which house Warren lives in. We don’t exchange visits very often,” -he added dryly. He pedaled out into the crowded traffic of Central -City’s principal business thoroughfare, the brown-papered parcels -joggling about in the carrier, wormed his way between the two lines of -westward-bound trucks and autos, cut under the nodding head of a big -gray dray horse and turned into Cotting Avenue. From there he could -make better time, and, since he was late, he pedaled fast. His steed -was not a very speedy one at best and it was only by straining his leg -muscles to the utmost that he could attain a celerity that approached -his desire. The Madden cook was a formidable woman with an eloquent -flow of language, and Joe had no wish to start the flow! - -Although it was well after four when he hurried along the Madden side -yard and thrust open the kitchen door, grumbles instead of scolding -awaited him. He kept a still tongue while he placed the parcels on top -of the refrigerator and dodged quickly out again. Ten minutes later, -by following the streets of poorer paving and scanty traffic, he was -back at the “Central City Market, Donaldson and Burns, Proprietors,” -had leaned his bicycle against the wall beside the rear entrance and -reported back in the shipping room. On Saturdays he was on duty until -nine o’clock at night. As to-day, however, was only Tuesday he could -be measurably sure of getting away at five or a few minutes after. To -make it more certain he kept a sharp eye on the orders for the final -delivery, with the result that when the last box of spinach and crate -of grapefruit had been brought in from the sidewalk and the big green -curtains were down he was free to leave. - -He found Sam Sawyer awaiting him outside. Sam had brought his own -bicycle and as Joe wheeled his to the street Sam said: “We’re to go -right to the police station, Joe. Warren’s going to meet us there. He’s -certain sure that was his wheel you saw.” - -“Yes, I guess it was,” Joe agreed. “I’ve been thinking about it. It was -new and shiny, just like his. I guess we’d better foot it, Sam. We’ll -get there faster this time of night.” - -Sam, who was already astride, viewed the congested traffic of Main -Street and agreed. Together, their wheel beside them, they made a -slow and difficult passage along the sidewalk, audibly censured by -home-hurrying pedestrians. Sam, however, managed to keep conversation -going in spite of frequent interruptions. “I guess there won’t be many -more wheels stolen after this,” he announced confidently. - -“Why?” asked Joe. - -“Haven’t you heard about the Vigilantes?” - -Joe shook his head. “What’s it?” he inquired. - -“It’s a society,” replied Sam. “Sort of a secret society. Warren got it -up. Just fellows who own wheels belong. It’s to help the police stop -bicycle thieves here in Central City, just like in some of the bigger -cities. Over in Hammon there’s been more than two thousand dollars’ -worth of bicycles stolen since the first of the year! And I guess -there’ll be that many swiped here, too, if it isn’t stopped pretty -quick. There’s been about twenty stolen already!” - -“When was this society started?” - -“Last night, at Warren’s. He got a lot of the fellows together by -telephone and we put it right through in about twenty minutes. Chief -Connell was mighty tickled when we told him about it.” - -“I suppose Warren’s president?” - -“Yes, that is, he’s chief. I’m second chief and ‘Tilly’ Cross is――――” - -“Of course he had to have a fancy name for it,” commented Joe. - -“What’s the matter with the name?” asked Sam indignantly. “If you knew -your history――――” - -“Oh, it’s all right, I suppose. Only Warren’s always starting societies -with funny names. Like during the war when he got up the Junior Secret -Service and he and Talbot Fraser got pinched for looking in someone’s -window one night――――” - -“That’s all right! The fellow was a German, wasn’t he? And even if he -wasn’t a spy, he acted mighty queer. Every one said so!” - -“How much does it cost to get into it?” - -“The Vigilantes? It doesn’t cost a cent. It――it’s a patriotic -organization.” - -“Well, if it doesn’t cost anything I guess I might go in.” - -“We-ell――” Sam’s tones were rather flat. “Well, you see, we’ve had to -make a rule that only fellows who owned their own wheels could join. If -we didn’t there’d be a lot of――of riff-raff want to come in; fellows -who’d want to join just for fun or curiosity.” - -“I see,” nodded Joe. “Fellows like me, you mean.” - -“No, I don’t and you know it,” answered Sam indignantly. “You’re all -right, of course. But you don’t own a wheel, and so――you see――――” - -“I don’t see what difference it makes whether I own this wheel or -whether Donaldson and Burns own it. It’s just the same as if it was -mine. I use it all the time. Besides, for that matter, it mighty near -is mine now. There isn’t much left of the original affair. I put on a -new fork and new chain and new saddle and handlebars and had the thing -mended half a dozen times because I thought that, seeing they let me -use it away from the store, it was only fair I should keep it in shape. -Gee, it was just an old second-hand wheel when Mr. Burns bought it. -Anyway....” - -“That’s right,” said Sam soothingly, “but you see how it is, old man. -Rules are rules, eh?” - -“Sure,” agreed Joe. Then he chuckled. “Funny, though, isn’t it, that -the first fellow to do any vigilanting should be me?” - -“We-ell,” replied Sam, “of course we don’t know yet that anything will -come of it. That might not have been Warren’s wheel, you see, after -all.” - -“Thought you seemed pretty certain about it awhile back,” remarked Joe -dryly. “Well, I guess I can worry along without being a Vigilante, -Sam. At that I dare say I’ll nab as many bicycle thieves as any of the -rest of you!” - -“Of course,” agreed Sam heartily. He didn’t really think so, but he -was glad that Joe wasn’t offended. He liked Joe, and if it hadn’t been -for that rule he would have gladly seen him become a member of the new -society. - -They reached the central police station just then and wheeling -their bicycles up the steps――for nowadays there was no certainty -that even the precincts of the police station would be sacred to -the thieves――they left them in the hall and turned into the room -on the left. Warren Scott was awaiting them. He was a tall, very -good-looking fellow of eighteen, a senior in high school and a person -of prominence there. Secretly, Joe thought Warren rather a “pill,” -but he might have been prejudiced. Their walks of life seldom met and -their acquaintance was extremely casual. Perhaps it wouldn’t be fair -to term Warren a snob, but his father held a responsible position with -the largest industrial plant in Central City, was a man of means and -lived accordingly, and naturally Warren found little to connect him -with a boy who, however estimable his character might be, spent his -vacation delivering roasts of beef and bags of potatoes. This evening, -however, Warren’s manner was far more friendly. He seemed to meet the -younger boy on a footing of social equality. Guided by a sergeant, -they went into an inner room and into the august presence of Chief of -Police Connell. The chief was corpulent, ruddy-faced, jovial, and he -accorded the chief of the Vigilantes a most cordial welcome. To Joe it -seemed that Chief Connell was rather more amused than impressed with -the new society, but perhaps he just imagined it. Their business was -soon over with. Joe gave his evidence clearly and, having recalled the -incident carefully during the afternoon, was able to give a fairly good -description of the presumed bicycle thief. The chief, however, was not -very hopeful of recovering the stolen property. - -“You see, boys,” he said, “whoever’s working the game is pretty foxy. -No one ever sees ’em at it. Probably there’s two or three operating -together. Likely they send them off to Chicago or somewhere like that -and sell them. They don’t get back on the market here, that’s sure. -It’s easy to change a bicycle over so’s the owner would never know it, -too. A little enamel is all they need. We haven’t had much luck so far, -boys, and that’s the truth. Only recovered one and that was left in an -alley. Had a broken frame, and the thieves probably didn’t want it. But -now that you boys are going to help us I guess we’ll do better.” And -the chief smiled broadly. - -Going out, Warren thanked Joe quite nicely for his help. “It’s too -bad, though, you couldn’t remember the fellow’s face better,” he added. - -“He had his hat pulled down, you see,” replied Joe. “But I guess I’d -know him if I ever saw him again.” - -As Warren and Sam lived northward and Joe west, the three parted -outside the station. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -JOE FINDS A CLUE - - -Next morning’s _Courier_, which was Mr. Kenton’s choice among the -Central City dailies, had a full half-column about the Vigilantes. The -_Courier_ was quite enthusiastic, and predicted that the end of bicycle -stealing was in sight. It gave much credit to Warren Scott, referring -to him as “the son of Mr. Lyman W. Scott, secretary of the Sproule-Gary -Corporation, and one of Central City’s foremost citizens.” At the end -of the article it briefly announced that the theft of two more bicycles -had been reported to the police. Joe grinned when he reached that. -“Maybe, though,” he reflected, as he hurried off, “the thieves hadn’t -heard about the Vigilantes!” - -During the following week only one bicycle was reported missing. -Whether this was due to the vigilance of the Vigilantes or to the fact -that owners had pretty well learned their lesson and no longer parked -their wheels beside the curb without locking them was a question. In -any case, the papers commented favorably, praised the Vigilantes and -the Police Department――all save the _Evening Star_, which, opposed to -the present city administration, inquired loudly why the police neither -apprehended the thieves nor recovered any of the stolen property. Sam -Sawyer was very full of the honor of his position of second chief of -the Vigilantes and took his duties very seriously. To Joe he confided -that, while the society had not so far actually caused any arrests or -returned any stolen bicycles to their owners, it had undoubtedly to -be credited with the sudden cessation of theft. With nearly a hundred -fellows around the streets watching constantly, he pointed out there -wasn’t much chance for the robbers. - -The following Monday the papers announced that between Saturday evening -and midnight on Sunday eleven complaints of bicycle thefts had reached -police headquarters! Some bicycles had been stolen――locks and all――from -the curb, some had been taken from yards and porches and one, belonging -to a minister on the outskirts of town, had been removed from the -church vestibule! The _Courier_ had an impassioned editorial that -morning on the subject of the revival of crime and the _Star_ gloated -and howled in big black headings and pointed an accusing finger in -direction of Police Headquarters. Somewhat to his disappointment, Joe -did not encounter Sam that day. Of course Joe deplored the thefts and -was sorry for those who had lost their wheels, but he was only human, -and he was a little bit huffed because he had not been admitted to the -Vigilantes. - -It was nearly closing time on Tuesday when Burke, the store manager -at the Central City Market, sought Joe in the shipping room. “There’s -an order to go out to the North Side, Joe. None of the teams is going -that way, so you’d better hustle out on your wheel. The name’s Jordan. -Smithy’s putting it up now.” - -Joe nodded. He didn’t relish the errand, however, for it had been -raining all day and was still at it, and the North Side streets were -none too good under the best of weather conditions. But he made -no protest and sought Smithy. The address on the slip read “W. H. -Jordan, Orcutt Road, 1 h’se beyond Drayton place.” Joe had to look in -the directory in the office before he could locate Orcutt Road. The -directory informed him that it ran west from Line Street in Bowker’s -Addition. With such meager intelligence he set forth at a few minutes -past five, his carrier weighted down with bundles. - -It was a good twenty minutes journey to Line Street, the latter part -of it through a dejected and even unsavory part of town, and, having -reached that street, an unpaved thoroughfare sparsely inhabited -by truck farmers in a small way, he sought further enlightenment. -It was still raining desultorily and the street was deserted by -pedestrians. Finally he leaned his bicycle against a rickety fence -and pushed through a gate beyond which a small dwelling, built largely -of second-hand material, showed in the early twilight. The man who -cautiously, even suspiciously, opened the unpainted door to him, -proved to be Italian, and Joe had much difficulty in making his wants -known. In the end, however, he learned that Orcutt Road was nearly a -half-mile further on. The road was a veritable quagmire now, and he -was frequently forced to dismount and push his bicycle through the -muddy pools and over the uneven roadbed. Even the dwellings of the -truck farmers ceased presently and the road――Joe had long since stopped -referring to it as a street――stretched interminably away before him -toward the darkening horizon with little to break its monotony save -an occasional tree or group of bedraggled bushes. Eventually, though, -a tumble-down farmhouse came into sight from under a slope of field -well away from the road, and Joe decided that it must be the Drayton -place. If it was, Orcutt Road could not be much further. Nor was it. -Some fifty yards beyond the falling gate giving on to the farmhouse -lane, an ill-defined wagon track led to the right and at its junction -with the road a leaning post held a board bearing the nearly illegible -inscription: “Orcutt Road.” Joe gave up the idea of riding the bicycle -any further and detached the laden carrier and set it on his shoulder. -The Jordan residence was further along the grass-grown track than he -had supposed, and he had to shift his burden more than once before the -house came into sight. - -It was a very humble dwelling, low, ancient, weathered, half hidden -by a plantation of tall poplars doubtless planted many years ago as -a windbreak. There were several outbuildings visible, all quite as -unkept as the house itself. In one of them a light burned feebly, -a lemon-yellow radiance in the gathering gloom. In the house there -appeared to be no light at all until having turned from the uncertain -road, he crossed a patch of grass and drew nearer. Then three things -happened almost simultaneously: a dog barked ferociously from the -direction of the house, a voice challenged from nearer at hand and -a light sprang dimly into sight behind the narrow sidelights of the -entrance. - -“You from the store?” asked the voice. - -A dark form sprang suddenly into view a dozen paces away and -approached. So did the dog, a big black nondescript who growled -menacingly as he bounded forward. “Get out o’ here, Gyp! Beat it or -I’ll bounce a brick off your bean!” commanded the voice compellingly. -Gyp stopped growling and began to sniff instead, circling around the -visitor at a few yards’ distance. - -“I’ve got an order here from the Central City Market for Jordan,” said -Joe. “All right?” - -“Sure,” answered the other. “Give it to me.” He proved to be a boy -some two years older than Joe; perhaps eighteen. He was tall and -broad-shouldered and uncouth. His clothes seemed too large for him and -fell into strange wrinkles as he stepped close to take the wire basket. -He wore no hat, and Joe found the fact oddly worrying him for the -instant. Then, as he yielded the carrier and said, “Four dollars and -thirty cents to pay, please,” he knew why. - -“All right,” said the boy gruffly in his unpleasant voice, and started -toward the rear of the house, Joe was following more slowly when the -other turned. “You wait here,” he said in a threatening tone. “Watch -him, Gyp.” - -The dog growled and Joe stopped very still. For several minutes boy and -dog stared at each other there in the rain and gloom, but Joe didn’t -see Gyp at all. He saw, instead, a figure in a dark slouch hat bending -over the handlebars of a shining purple bicycle, and although the hat -was now wanting, he knew beyond the possibility of any doubt that the -youth on the bicycle and the unpleasant-voiced boy who had disappeared -beyond the corner of the house were one and the same. - -His thoughts were interrupted by the return of the boy with the empty -carrier and the money. “Here you are, kid,” he grunted. “Now beat it.” - -“Guess I’d better,” said Joe pleasantly. “It’s a long way out here, -isn’t it? Gee, I was nearly bogged down getting along that road!” - -“Well, why didn’t they send a team then?” demanded the other. - -“There wasn’t any of them coming this way to-day. That’s a nice dog -you’ve got,” Joe snapped his fingers invitingly, but Gyp only growled -deeply. “Is he cross?” - -“He don’t take to strangers,” answered the other gruffly. “Come here, -Gyp. I’ll look after him till you’re out o’ the way, kid. Better get a -move on.” - -“All right. Good night,” said Joe. He turned back across the ragged -and sodden lawn and gained the road. There he dared one brief backward -look. Boy and dog still stood where he had left them, unmoving, -silent, two dark forms in the falling darkness. The light in the -house had gone, but that in one of the outbuildings――possibly a -stable――had increased in brilliancy. Against its radiance a figure――two -figures――moved, coming and going from sight across the square opening -of a wide doorway. Then Joe brought his eyes back to the uneven road -and floundered on toward the road and his bicycle. - -His thoughts were very busy indeed as he pushed and pedaled his way -home. - -It was quite dark by the time he swung into his own street, and the -infrequent lights left pockets of gloom between them. It was in one of -these that a voice came to Joe above the swishing sound of his tires on -the wet asphalt. - -“Hey!” said the voice imperatively. “Hold up!” - -Joe obeyed, coming to a halt as a dark figure detached itself from the -deeper darkness across the street. The figure resolved itself into the -burly form of a policeman who, joining the boy, peered suspiciously -from him to the bicycle. - -“What’s it?” asked Joe. - -“Whose wheel is that?” demanded the officer gruffly. - -“Mine,” replied Joe. “That is, it belongs to Donaldson and Burns. They -let me use it.” - -“What’s your name? Where do you live?” - -Joe told him, explaining his errand and indicating the wire carrier as -confirmatory evidence, and the officer grunted as though satisfied and -went on. So did Joe, arriving home a minute later very wet and very -hungry; and also secretly rather excited. He had difficulty getting to -sleep that night. - -The next morning three more bicycles were reported stolen and the -papers carried an advertisement inserted by a hastily formed “Bicycle -Dealers’ Association” offering a reward of one hundred dollars for -information leading to the apprehension and conviction of the thieves. -Joe read that notice with a deal of interest. He would have liked a -partner in his contemplated enterprise, but the only fellow he could -think of was Sam, and there were reasons why Sam wouldn’t answer. - -When he reached the store Joe sought Mr. Burke and asked to be allowed -to leave a half hour earlier to-day. The manager objected from force of -habit, but finally consented. At half-past four Joe begged some meat -trimmings from the hand butcher, detached the parcel carrier from his -bicycle and set off. - -The afternoon was cloudy and chill, but rainless, as he followed his -route of yesterday to within sight of the Drayton farm. There he -concealed his wheel in a clump of bushes, climbed the fence and found -himself in a meadow through which a dry brook meandered. It was still -broad daylight and the problem of reaching the Jordan place unseen -looked difficult. He dropped into the brook, however, and, well hunched -over, began a cautious journey. The brook crossed the meadow by many -turns toward a group of tumble-down outbuildings well away from the -Drayton house. Reaching them at last, unchallenged, he abandoned -concealment and passed behind them toward a fence a hundred yards -distant. The fence was overgrown on both sides with trees and bushes -and he had trouble breaking through. But when he had he was rewarded. -A quarter of a mile away to his left the Jordan house was in sight -beyond a corner of the clustered outbuildings and between him and the -latter stood a neglected orchard overgrown with tall weeds and littered -with dead branches. Before proceeding he reassured himself by feeling -of the packet of meat in his pocket. He was in far greater awe of Gyp -than any of the human denizens. - -Traversing the orchard was like playing Indian. Joe dodged from -one tree to another, watching sharply the while. As he neared the -outbuildings a sound reached him such as might be made by tapping a -metal bar with a hammer, and although it ceased almost at once it -proved that someone was close at hand, probably in that shed where -he had yesterday seen forms moving to and fro. What he most dreaded -to hear, the challenging bark of Gyp, didn’t disturb him. Behind the -stable and sheds, which now completely hid the dwelling, lay a mass of -discarded farm machinery, lumber and miscellaneous rubbish half hidden -by grass and bushes. Three windows stared across at him. Of these, two -were in the shed in the middle, perhaps once a carriage house, and the -third, high up, was in the building on the extreme left. The stable, -at the right of the row, was windowless at its rear. Joe was certain -that the center building was the one in which he was to find an answer -to his problem, and that the answer would come to him by means of one -of its two windows. To reach it, however, he must cross a good twenty -yards of open space, and, while the shadows were gathering, it was not -yet even twilight, and he hoped devoutly that no one――least of all -Gyp――would be looking his way! - -Of course he could wait for darkness, but then the shed might be -deserted and unlighted and he would discover nothing. No, it was best -to go ahead now and chance it. If he was discovered and pursued he -could, he thought, trust his legs to get him out of danger. Taking a -deep breath, he bent low and ran. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -THE LONE CHASE - - -A few yards short of his goal, his foot caught on something and Joe -measured his length with a force that almost drove the breath from -his body. Fortunately the fall had left him in a tangle of bushes, -and there he lay a moment and listened with fast-beating heart for a -rush of footsteps. But the only sound that came to him was that of low -voices from beyond the thin wooden wall a half-dozen feet away, and -after a cautious look about him he squirmed forward again. To reach -the nearer of the two windows he must make his way across the remains -of an abandoned mowing machine, and that task was no slight one if he -was not to proclaim his presence to those inside. But he managed it -presently and was crouching, his head close to the weathered boards, -listening to the voices. There were evidently at least two men in the -shed. One spoke harshly yet quite distinctly, the other emitted only -unintelligible mutterings. - -“Kick the burlap over here, Jimmy,” said the first. A deadened metallic -sound followed, as though a length of pipe had fallen on a carpeted -floor. “There, that’s the last, ain’t it?” There came a creaking as -of carriage springs and the mutterings of the second worker. “Yeah, -I know,” went on the other, as if in response to a suggestion, “but -we’ve got to take a chance now and then, ain’t we? Get it covered up -good and there won’t be no trouble. Better change those number plates -next thing. Huh?” The mutterings came again and the voice which Joe -could understand broke in impatiently on them. “Oh, you give me a pain, -Jimmy! We’ve made the trip four times, ain’t we? And we got by all -right, didn’t we? Well, then, forget the crepe-hanging! Besides, this -is the last lot, I guess. They’re getting het up here. When they begin -offering rewards it’s a good time to move on. Huh? ... You and your -hunches. You’re always having ’em, Jimmy, and they don’t never come -true. Say, now, do they? Where’s those plates? All right, go ahead, and -I’ll finish the load off.” - -Something that sounded like a hammer struck the floor with a bang and -footsteps scraped about. There was a grunt and then once more came the -noise of creaking springs. Joe, unable to restrain his curiosity any -longer, raised his head until his eyes topped the window-sill. The pane -was dusty and draped with cobwebs, and the interior of the shed was -shadowed, but after a second spent in accustoming his eyes to the gloom -within he found that he was looking at the back of an automobile which -was standing within some four feet of the rear wall. He was too low to -see within it, although the top was down. Nearer the floor, something -moved and the boy’s gaze lowered to a red-brown thatch of hair, to a -shoulder clad in greasy blue denim. A squeaking sound suggested a nut -being forced tight. One of the men, probably the one who mumbled, was -changing the rear number plate. The second man was not in sight, for -the automobile hid the rest of the shed from Joe’s view. The squeaking -ceased and suddenly the upper part of the worker’s body shot upward -within a few inches of Joe’s eyes and the boy dropped quickly below the -window. - -“All set,” came the voice from inside. “Let’s eat and get going, Jimmy. -It’ll be dark in an hour. Huh? ... Oh, there ain’t no danger I’m telling -you! Ain’t we got a right to haul a load of furniture over to Casper? -Anyway, we’ll keep out of the town this time; take it along by the -river. The roads are rotten, but we can make ’em if we don’t hurry too -much. I’m aiming to get to Chi along about three-thirty. Best way’s to -get the car unloaded and in the yard before daylight. Come on, let’s -go.” - -Joe listened intently. Footsteps crossed the floor, a door banged -shut, the barking of a dog came from nearer the house. A voice -called, “Slim! You, Slim!” The dog barked louder. Voices mingled, too -indistinct, however, for Joe’s understanding. A door slammed and quiet -reigned. - -After a moment Joe slipped quickly back to the nearest apple tree -and, making himself as small as possible, stared thoughtfully through -the head-high crotch at the back of the shed. Low-hanging branches -concealed him and gathering twilight was already making objects -uncertain. Joe did some hard thinking during the next five minutes. -He wanted very much to see what was in that automobile in the shed, -but the risk would be great. Even if he managed an entrance through a -window there was the possibility of being caught by the sudden return -of one of the men. Getting out of a window in a hurry is not always -an easy matter. Besides, he reflected, he was practically certain -what he would find if he did investigate; as certain as a fellow -could be without actually seeing. He relinquished thought of further -investigation and considered, instead, how to circumvent the thieves. -For Joe was quite sure that they were thieves. He was quite sure -that he had found the headquarters of the gang who had been stealing -bicycles in Central City. As he figured it out, the members of the gang -stole the wheels and brought them out here to this deserted and almost -forgotten house and hid them away until they had enough to make a -load. Then they were placed in the automobile――having been, perhaps, -first taken down and compactly bundled in burlap――and transported -over the road to Chicago. How many there were in the gang he didn’t -know; three, at least――not counting Gyp! From what he had overheard, -it was plain that the men meant to make a start as soon as they had -eaten supper. Somehow, he must communicate with the police, and that -speedily. Once out of the town there were half a dozen roads they might -take, and while by telephoning ahead, they might be intercepted there -was always the chance that they might slip through. Whatever was to be -done should be done at once. Joe wondered if there was a telephone at -the Drayton house. He was pretty certain, though, that there wasn’t; -pretty certain, indeed, that in coming out here he had left the last -telephone pole well over a half-mile nearer town. Therefore the best -thing to do was to get to the nearest telephone as soon as possible and -call up the police station. - -With a last look at the shadowy bulk of the shed, and tossing the -packet of meat away, he crept back through the orchard and climbed the -fence again. Beyond it, he sacrificed caution to speed and ran as fast -as the uneven ground would let him. As he had suspected, no telephone -wire entered the Drayton house, nor were there any poles in sight -along the road toward which he hurried. To his disgust, he mistook the -clump of bushes where he had hidden his bicycle and wasted more than -one precious minute finding it. At last, though, he was mounted and -pedaling hard over the lumpy, rutted road toward the distant city. - -Twilight was coming fast now. He wondered how much time had elapsed -since he had heard the house door close behind the men. He had, he -figured, remained behind the shed a good minute before returning to -the orchard, and had spent perhaps five minutes beside the tree and -had probably consumed another five minutes in reaching the road and -finding his bicycle. Consequently some twelve minutes had already gone -by. If he got his telephone connection in another five minutes he would -be doing very well indeed, and by the time the alarm was given nearly -twenty minutes would have elapsed. In that time, reflected Joe, the -thieves might well eat a hurried supper and start off on their journey. -They had spoken of circling the center of the city and keeping along -by the river, and if they did the car must go slowly, for the roads it -would have to traverse were of dirt and little traveled, save for the -mile or so of parkway that finally led to the bridge. The bridge! That -was the place to watch for them! Then Joe’s sudden elation died a quick -death. The thieves would have their choice of three bridges, after -all, or, if they liked, could swing northward to Porterville and cross -the river by the ferry. As he sped along making far slower progress -than he desired, he watched anxiously for signs of a telephone. He had -already covered a half-mile, he was sure, and still no poles came to -sight. A suburban road, showing at long intervals a house of the poorer -sort, led off to the right, and Joe slowed down and considered. This -was the road the thieves would doubtless take if they held to their -plan of following the river in its curve around the city. But there -were no telephone poles on it and so it offered no attraction to the -boy, and he was getting up speed once more when, from behind him, came -the unmistakable roar of a motor. He looked back. Far down the road -over which he had come two white eyes of light bored into the half -darkness. Dismayed, Joe again slowed down, stopped, placed one foot on -the ground and, undecided, waited. The approaching car came nearer and -nearer, slowed a trifle and whisked its white orbs to the branching -road. There were two forms on the front seat and the back of the car -appeared to be piled high with furniture. Against the lighter sky Joe -caught the silhouette of table legs stretched pathetically, helplessly -upward. Then the car was gone. - -What Joe did then was done without reflection. Probably if he had -paused long enough to reason he would have continued on in search of -the nearest telephone. Instead, however, he switched his bicycle about, -set feet to pedals again, thump-bumped to the corner and set off along -the strange road in pursuit of a tiny, dim red light. - -The automobile was not going very fast now. It couldn’t and remain in -the road. Chuck-holes were frequent and in places the roadbed was a -soft and yielding mire of wet clay and loam. Joe almost came to grief -in one such place, and, perhaps fortunately, since what was almost a -tumble drew his gaze to the side of the road. At some not long distant -time an effort to sell house lots there had led to the building of -several blocks of concrete sidewalk. It had apparently never paid for -itself, since few houses had been built, but there it was, and it took -but an instant for Joe to reach it. After that for some four or five -blocks he sped at full speed, his foot on one side whisked by the -encroaching weeds, and saw to his delight that he had gained on the -more cautious car. - -Then the concrete sidewalk gave out and he was forced back to the road, -but the red tail light was scarcely more than a block away from him and -he didn’t doubt that from now on, until the car left the city environs, -he would be able to hang on to it. He hoped to find a policeman to whom -he could give warning. Failing that, he could at least determine the -road taken by the thieves and so make more certain their capture. - -Stone paving took the place of dirt and the automobile gathered speed. -But it was evident to Joe that the driver was seeking to avoid all -suggestion of flight. Even when still later, a stretch of rather worn -asphalt came the car did not speed up as the pursuer feared it would, -but trundled along at a brisk yet unhurried pace. Even so, however, -it drew gradually away from Joe until, at the end of the asphalt, it -had increased its lead to nearly three blocks. By then they were among -the factories, in a poorly lighted and, at the present hour, well-nigh -deserted part of town. A huge grain elevator loomed beside the way, -a black, gigantic specter in the early darkness. The bicycle bounced -over the tracks of a railway spur. Between the silent buildings a -steel-gray ribbon, reflecting an occasional light from the farther -bank, showed. The river had drawn close, and in another minute or two -Joe would know whether the car ahead meant to continue the swing about -the city to one of the three bridges or to turn at right angles and -take the Porterville road. As he struggled on, working desperately to -bring the bicycle back to its former place in the race, he searched -for the welcome sight of a dark blue uniform. Yet he saw none. If, he -reflected indignantly, he hadn’t wanted a policeman the street would -have been full of them! As it was, though, the corners were empty. -No gallant guardian of law and order swung a night stick under an -infrequent lamp post. - -The railroad yard was beside him now, on his left hand, and the sounds -of shunting freight cars and of exhausting steam reached him. Beyond a -long freight house a swinging lantern made yellow arcs in the darkness. -Then, almost before he was aware of its proximity, the Porterville road -swung away from the cobbled thoroughfare and the red tail light of the -car ahead was whisked from sight. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -JOE RESIGNS - - -Instinctively Joe worked harder at the pedals and gained the corner; -was around it before the futility of further pursuit came to him. He -looked back for sight of a policeman but saw only the empty street. -Before him stretched a long, gradually curving road, picked out at long -intervals by lights. Far ahead now was that tiny red speck that he had -been following. Porterville was two miles away, yet at Porterville -there might be an officer at the ferry house. At least, thought Joe, he -could give the alarm there. He was pretty tired, more tired, indeed, -than he realized, but he knew that he was good for two miles more. -He wished devoutly that he was mounted on Sam’s light, high-geared -Arrow instead of the cumbersome heavy steed beneath him! All these -reflections had not relaxed his efforts, and now he was well out on the -Porterville road, with the sluggish river flowing at a stone-throw on -his left. The automobile was far away, but he could still see the tail -light, and he was presently encouraged to find that it was not gaining -on him. Perhaps even on this unfrequented road the thieves were not -minded to attract notice by too much speed. There was, too, as Joe had -heard, a motor policeman detailed for that stretch, and he guessed the -thieves were afraid of being halted. The recollection of the motor -policeman brought a throb of joy to Joe. If he could find him the race -would soon be over! - -But he didn’t find him. It seemed to Joe that to-night, when they -were needed the worst way, all the policemen in the world had utterly -vanished! In the end he toiled into the tiny hamlet of Porterville, to -use his own expression, “just about all in.” The car had disappeared -from sight half a mile back, but he was pretty sure that he knew where -it was. The business center of Porterville consisted of about as many -stores as there were corners at the intersection of two streets. Of -these, one showed lights, and in front of it a handful of loiterers -were standing underneath the inscription “General Store――U. S. Post -Office.” Joe swung up to the curb, panting hard. - -“Say, where’s there a cop?” he demanded breathlessly. - -No one replied for an instant. Then a tall youth turned and hailed a -man standing in the doorway. “Hey, Gene, seen Bill Cooper lately?” - -“Bill? Yeah, he was around about ten minutes ago. Guess he’s down to -the wharf.” - -“What you want him for?” inquired a third citizen of the busy -metropolis. But Joe was already under way once more. - -Some two hundred yards off, was the ferry house, and even as he stepped -on his pedals there came a hoarse warning blast. He sped like mad down -the descending street. As he came to the slip there was a jangling -of bells, the gates began to close and water was churned from the -paddles of the boat. Bill Cooper was forgotten in that instant. Joe -saw his quarry escaping and the instinct of the chase spurred him -on unthinkingly. There was room between the closing gates to pass, -although he scraped his handle grips and then he dismounted at a run, -tossed the old wheel across a slowly widening expanse of water and -jumped. - -He landed atop the wheel, picked himself up and faced an irate deck -hand. “What you trying to do? Kill yourself?” demanded the man. “Don’t -you know you can’t get aboard after the gates are closed?” - -“They weren’t closed,” answered Joe, “――quite!” - -“You come along o’ me and see the captain,” replied the other. “You -ain’t paid your fare, for one thing.” - -Joe hadn’t thought of that, and now, feeling anxiously in a pocket, -he wondered whether he was able to. But he was, for the fare was but -seventeen cents for him and the bicycle, and he paid it while the -burly captain growled him a lecture on boarding the ferry after the -bell had rung. That over, he went back to the stern of the little boat, -recovered his wheel and looked about him. The _River Queen_ had a -narrow cabin on each side and space between for some six vehicles. On -this trip that space was occupied by but three, a farmer’s wagon and -two automobiles. It took but an instant to determine, even in the dark -of the unlighted tunnel, that the foremost automobile was apparently -piled with furniture. Joe sauntered nearer. Although the tail light -appeared to have been affixed in a position from which its rays could -not possibly illumine the number plate, the latter was decipherable -with the aid of the reflections from the car behind. Joe read and made -a mental memorandum: 21,678. The tonneau of the car, a rather large -one of good make but an old vintage, appeared to hold only household -furniture. There was, first, a strata of mattresses, then a bundle -of bedding, a chest of drawers, the pathetic table, a clothes basket -filled with odds and ends and other objects not to be determined. Ropes -passed and repassed over the load. In the seat ahead the two men sat -huddled and silent. Joe went back and pondered deeply. - -Perhaps, he thought, he should have found Bill Cooper, as he had at -first meant to do, but suppose Mr. Cooper hadn’t been at the wharf? -In that case Joe would have had to hunt for him and convince him of -the truth of his strange story, by which time the thieves would have -reached the other side, chosen their route――Joe didn’t know how many -roads might lead away from there――and secured a good start. As it was -now, he at least had the thieves and their booty still under his eyes, -and he had thought of a plan whereby he could continue to keep them -there until the heavy hand of the Law should descend upon them. On the -whole, he concluded, he hadn’t made a mistake. And, having reached -this encouraging conclusion, he sought the deck hand, now recovered -from his choler, and held conversation, with the result that the -bicycle was presently stored in a locker to await Joe’s return. Then -the _River Queen_ bumped into her slip, gangplanks were hauled aboard, -the automobiles came to life again, chains rattled and the dozen or so -passengers hurried ashore. - -Save for the ferry house and a small store, closed and dark, this -terminus of the ferry line had little to offer. Straight ahead, a road -climbed upward to the summit of the river bluffs. To right and left a -second road followed the stream up and down. The passengers climbed -into waiting vehicles or walked away into the gloom. Joe, one of the -first to land, stepped into the shadow of the ferry house and waited. - -The first automobile creaked over the gangplank and up the incline. -As it passed, Joe ducked from the shadow of the little building to -the shadow of the car. At its rear was a stout tire carrier occupied -by two spare tires. Joe clasped the upper rim of a tire and swung -himself up, his knees colliding painfully with something decidedly -hard and unyielding. Unthinkingly he uttered an ejaculation of pain, -but fortunately the roar of the car as it breasted the hill ahead -drowned it. Joe squirmed himself into a position which, if not very -comfortable, was secure. There was no danger of detection and he was -certain that he could hold on back there until Fortune, which had so -far sadly flouted him, relented. The car rushed at the hill and took -the first of it nobly. Then, however, its speed lessened and lessened -and the driver shifted to second, and finally to low, and the summit -was gained at no more than a snail’s pace. Once on level ground, -however, it fairly flew, and although he was to some extent protected -from the rush of the wind, Joe became sensible of the fact that the -air up here on the hills was far colder than below in the valley. He -began to realize his weariness, too. The few minutes on the boat had -restored his breath, but they hadn’t taken the ache from his muscles. -The glamour of excitement was waning now and he gave thought to his -position. He was a good six miles from home and he had exactly ten -cents to his name. He couldn’t return by the ferry, but would have to -keep down the river to the first bridge; and he had a sickening notion -that the first bridge was a lot nearer ten miles away than five! Well, -there was no help for it. Having gone so far, he would see the matter -through――even if he had to keep right on to Chicago! He would show -Warren Scott and his Vigilantes that when it came to results there were -others! - -These musings were suddenly interrupted. The car was slowing down! At -the cost of another ache Joe craned his head around the side of the -tonneau. A short distance ahead was a broad illumination of white light -and a blazon of red amidst it. They were approaching a roadside filling -station and were going to stop! This, reflected Joe, was no place for -him, for the gasoline tank was under his feet. As the car came to a -pause he jumped down and scuttled across the road and into the black -shadows of the trees. - -From a small building beyond the pump with its brilliant red sign -atop, came a man who after an exchange of words with the men in the -car, set about refilling the tank. Joe watched and waited and thought -hard. If he was to regain his place he must be quick about it and yet -not be seen. That wouldn’t be so easy. If the filling station man saw -him――he broke off abruptly. His gaze, wandering beyond the pump, had -caught sight through one lighted window of a telephone on the wall of -the little building. Why go any further? Here was his chance. He would -tell his story and get the man to telephone to the first town beyond! A -moment later the red tail light was growing smaller down the road and -Joe was confronting the man from the doorway, stammering badly in his -eagerness. The man stared back at him, startled. - -“What?” he asked. “You want gas?” - -Joe shook his head and tried again. - -“Telephone,” he ejaculated. “Police!” - -The man brought the chair down on all four legs with a bump and waved a -hand. “Help yourself,” he directed. “What’s up? Accident?” - -Joe shook his head again. “You do it,” he begged. “I――I haven’t got -enough breath!” - -“All right,” agreed the other good-naturedly. “What do you want?” - -“Telephone the nearest town,” panted the boy, “and tell the police to -stop that car, the one that just went by here. The number’s 21,678. -Tell them it’s full of bicycles stolen in Central City, and――” - -The man paused with the receiver off the hook, shook his head and -laughed. “You’re crazy, kid,” he jeered. “That car had furniture in -it. I know the fellows. They’ve stopped here two――three times lately. -Who’s been stringing you?” - -“Honest, it’s so!” protested Joe. “I’ve followed them all the way from -their house. They’re bicycle thieves. The furniture’s just to fool -folks. The bicycles are underneath. I know!” - -The man looked less assured. “Well, that’s funny,” he said. “Hold on, -what was the number?” - -“21,678,” answered Joe. - -“Wrong, son. That car’s number is 5,906. I’ve seen it two――three times -and I remember. I’ve got a habit of noticing number plates.” - -“They changed it this evening,” said Joe. “Won’t you please telephone?” - -“Changed it? Well, say, I didn’t look at the number just now. All -right, but, look here, kid, if this is some silly hoax I’ll get in a -dickens of a mess with the Winsted police! Sure you ain’t stringing me? -Sure you know what you’re talking about?” - -Joe nodded dumbly. The man grunted, still doubtful, but put in the -call. Then, while he waited, he eyed Joe dubiously. “Say,” he began, -“if you’re double-crossing me――” He broke off then. “Hello! Police -Headquarters? Huh? Well, say this is Perkins, Harry Perkins, out at -the filling station on the Bluffs Road. Yeah! Say, there’s a kid -here――yeah, young fellow――that’s right. He wants you to stop a car -that just went through here, number 21,678, he says. He says the guys -in it are a couple of thieves and that they’ve got the car filled with -bicycles swiped over in Central. Huh? Yeah, that’s right, two, one, -six, seven, eight. All right, I’ll hold it.” - -“Did he――is he going to do it?” asked Joe eagerly. - -“Guess so. He told me to hold the line. Probably――hello! What? Sure, -here he is!” He motioned Joe and put the receiver in his hand. “Wants -to talk to you,” he explained. - -From far away came a faint, gruff voice. “Hello! Where’d you get that -story from, my boy?” - -Joe told his tale, standing first on one foot and then on the other, -shouting loudly to convey his certainty, to convince the unseen and -evidently somewhat incredulous official. In the end he must have -succeeded, for the official broke into a repetition with: - -“All right, son! You stick around there till you hear from us. We may -need you. What’s your name? Kenton? All ri――” - -Then silence. After a moment Joe hung up and lifted himself painfully -to a table amongst an array of grease cans. The owner of the station -eyed him with growing curiosity. “Say, that’s some story of yours, -kid,” he said. “What were you in, a car or a motorcycle?” - -“Bicycle,” answered Joe listlessly. Now that the end had come he was -fast losing interest in the matter. About all he could think of was the -way his legs ached! - -“Bicycle!” exclaimed the man. “Gee-gosh, aren’t you tired?” Joe nodded. -“Sure you are! Here, sit in the chair, kid. I’ll say you’re a plucky -one! Gee-gosh! All that way on a bicycle! And didn’t lose ’em!” - -The man talked on, but Joe, his eyes closed, perilously near asleep, -didn’t really hear him: or, at the best, he heard just occasional -detached words or phrases: “... Stopped here two――three times ... -pleasant guys ... funny, though ... always loaded with furniture ... -never noticed ... ought to hear ... police....” - -Joe was concerned with something besides his legs now, and that was -his stomach. He had suddenly remembered that he hadn’t had anything to -eat, except a couple of sandwiches and a banana, since morning. Perhaps -he actually did sleep for a few moments, for he certainly didn’t hear -the telephone bell ring, and here was the filling station man saying -excitedly: “Got ’em, kid! They’re pinched and you were dead right! The -chief says the car’s plum full of bicycles! Hey, wake up and listen! -They’ll be along pretty soon and take you home. He says there’s a -reward out and he guesses you’ll get it!” - -“I wish,” muttered Joe sleepily, “it was a dish of soup and a hunk of -toast and I had it now!” - - * * * * * - -“Hey, Joe! Joe Kenton!” - -Joe turned his bicycle across the street and drew up in front of Sam -Sawyer. “Hello,” he said. “What’s it?” - -“Want to see you a minute. How’s it feel to be a hero and have your -picture in the papers and everything?” - -Joe grinned embarrassedly. Then he glanced at the bundles in the -carrier and frowned. “I’ve got to hurry,” he said. “I――” - -“Well, wait a minute, can’t you? Have you got that reward yet?” - -“No, but they said they would send a check to-day. I dare say it’s over -at the house now.” - -“What are you going to do with it?” asked Sam, a bit enviously. - -Joe smiled. “Put it in the bank for the present,” he answered. “It’s -going to come in mighty handy later. Help a lot with school expenses, -you know.” - -“Yes,” agreed Sam. “Say, have you seen Warren to-day?” - -“Warren? No.” Joe glanced impatiently at the city hall clock and from -thence to the bundles. - -“Then you haven’t heard?” exclaimed Sam. - -“Guess not. What’s it?” - -“Why, about the Vigilantes! About being a member!” - -“Who?” - -“You! Warren called a special meeting last evening and you were elected -to membership, Joe! Unanimously!” - -Joe looked back unemotionally. “That so?” he asked. “Mean that I’m a -Vigilante now?” - -“Sure!” - -“In good standing? All my dues paid in full?” - -“Of course, only there aren’t any――” - -“Well, then,” interrupted Joe, spurning the curb with his left foot and -settling in the saddle, “you tell ’em I’ve resigned.” - -“Resigned!” gasped Sam. - -Joe nodded as he rolled away. “Yes, you tell ’em I’ve got me a society -of my own, Sam. It’s called the――the Go Get ’Em Society. So long!” - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -GUS BILLINGS NARRATES - - -In August Hal wrote persuasively from the north, renewing his -invitation to Joe. Joe was to come up and spend the last fortnight -before school began again, insisted Hal. With that hundred dollars in -the bank, Joe might, he reflected, allowably treat himself to that -trip; but he didn’t. It would have cost him all of twenty dollars, to -say nothing of two weeks’ pay at Donaldson and Burns’! Instead, Joe -and Philip spent a whole five days at Camp Peejay. That is, they went -out there every evening after Joe was through at the store and stayed -until the next morning. Then, after an early and simple breakfast, they -hurried back to town awheel, Philip on a borrowed bicycle scarcely more -presentable than Joe’s. But they had all of Thursday out there and -spent the day fishing, later supping on their catch of four perch and a -wicked-looking hornpout. - -The last of September saw Joe back at Holman’s School. He and Hal had -secured 14 Routledge again and there didn’t seem to Joe much more to -ask for. Unless, of course, it was a place on the football team. But -that was probably unattainable. Last fall he had striven hard for some -sort of recognition from the gridiron rulers and had failed. But this -year he returned with unfaltering courage, reporting on the field -the first day of practice and never quite losing heart. As a result -of perseverance――and one or two other factors――he lasted the season -through. One of the factors was Gus Billings, and, since the story is -really Gus’s, suppose we let Gus tell it in his own way. - -It has always seemed to me that the fellow who wrote the story of that -game for the Warrensburg paper missed a fine chance to spring something -new. It was a pretty good story and had only about a dozen rotten -mistakes, like where it said I missed a tackle the time their quarter -got around our right in the first period. I wasn’t in that play at all, -on account of their making the play look like it was coming at center -and me piling in behind Babe Linder. The fellow who missed that tackle -was Pete Swanson, I guess. Anyway, it wasn’t me. Maybe I did miss one -or two, but not that one, and that time they got nearly fifteen yards -on us, and a fellow doesn’t like to be blamed for slipping up on a play -like that. - -Still, as I said, the story was as good as the run of them, and the -paper gave us plenty of space, just as it generally does seeing that -there are nearly three hundred of us at Holman’s and our trade’s -worth quite a bit of money to the Warrensburg stores. But where that -reporter chap fell down was in not recognizing what you might call -the outstanding features of it and playing it up. He could have put a -corking headline on it, too; like “Holman’s Victor in One Man Game.” -But he missed it entirely, the dumb-bell. Of course I’m not pretending -that I was on to it myself just at the moment. It was Newt Lewis who -put me on. But I’m no news hound. If I was I’ll bet I’d turn out better -stuff than some of these reporter guys do. It seems like some of them -don’t know a football from a Dutch cheese! - -I suppose the story of that game really began on Thursday night, when -Babe and I were in our room in Puffer and this Joe Kenton mooned in -on us. Babe’s real name is Gordon Fairfield Linder, but he’s always -been called Babe, even when he was in grammar school, on account -of him being so big. Babe played center on the team, and I played -right tackle. This fellow Joe Kenton was a sort of fourth substitute -half-back. He’d been hanging on to the squad all the season. He wasn’t -much good, it seemed, and the only reason he was still with us was -because Hop MacLean, who was captain that year and played left half, -had a bum knee and was expected to have to give up playing any old -time. He’d got injured in the first game of the year, but he was still -playing, and playing a mighty nice game, and I guess Joe would have -been dropped from the squad after last week’s game if Rusty hadn’t -probably forgotten about him. A coach gets sort of muddle-headed in the -last two weeks of the season, and sort of absent-minded, too, and I -guess he was so used to seeing Joe sitting there on the bench that he -didn’t think much about him: just thought he was part of the scenery. - -Joe was an awfully decent sort of chap, even if he was a dub at -football, and fellows liked him pretty well, Babe and me inclusive. -He was a corking baseball player, and you might think he’d have been -satisfied with that, but he wasn’t. He was dead set on being a football -hero, and he’d been trying last year and this without getting very -far. It wasn’t anything unusual for him to turn up at Number 11, but -he didn’t generally come in looking like he was rehearsing to be a -pallbearer at some one’s funeral. Babe, who had grabbed up a Latin -book, thinking it might be one of the faculty, tossed it back on the -table and picked up his magazine again and grunted “’Lo, Joe.” And I -said “’Lo,” too, and asked who was dead; and Joe sort of groaned and -dropped into a chair. - -“I’m up against it, fellows,” he said dismally. - -“Spill it,” said I. - -He pulled a letter out of a pocket and tossed it to me. “Read it,” said -he. - -So I pulled the thing out of the envelope and started. It was dated -“Central City, Nov. 12.” Central City is where Joe lives. - - MY DEAR JOSEPH, [it began] your last Sunday’s letter, posted, I - see, on Tuesday, has just arrived, and both your mother and I - are glad to learn that you are well and getting on finely. You - neglect to answer the questions I asked in my last letter, but - as you never do answer my questions I suppose I shouldn’t be - surprised. I am pleased that you are doing so well at football, - of course, but would like sometimes to have you make even - passing mention of your studies. Your mother has been suffering - for several days with a slight cold, but is considerably better - to-day and―― - -“It’s on the next page,” interrupted Joe dolefully. “Turn over.” - -So I turned the page and read――“on top of the furnace, and it’s a -wonder she wasn’t burned.” - -“Eh?” said Babe, looking up. “Joe’s mother?” - -I chuckled, but Joe was too depressed to even smile. “The cat,” he -said. “Go on. It’s further along. Where it begins ‘Now for our news.’” - - Now for our news [I went on]. Your Uncle Preston has just - bought him a new car and he called up this morning and - suggested that we might run over to the School Saturday in - time for the football game. Seems to me it’s quite a ways to - go, nigh eighty miles, but your Uncle says we can do it in two - hours and a half, and your mother’s willing and so I guess - you’re likely to see us around one o’clock if Preston doesn’t - run us into a telegraph pole or something, like he did his old - car. We are aiming to get there in time to visit with you a - little before you go to play football. I hope you will do your - best Saturday, son, for your mother’s been telling your Uncle - and Aunt Em some pretty tall yarns about your football playing, - not knowing very much about it, of course, and I guess they’ll - be downright disappointed if you don’t win that game. Anne - Walling was up to the house Sunday―― - -“That’s all,” groaned Joe, and reached for the letter. - -“Well,” said I, “what’s the big idea? Why the forlorn countenance? -Don’t you want to see your folks, or what?” - -“No,” said Joe. “I mean yes, of course I do! Only, don’t you see, you -big boob, what a mess I’m in? They’re expecting me to play, aren’t -they? And I won’t play, will I? How am I going to explain it to them? -Why, they think――” - -Joe stopped. - -“You’ve been lying to ’em,” grunted Babe. - -“Honest, I haven’t Babe,” cried Joe. “I’ve never told them a thing that -wasn’t so, but――well, you know how it is! A fellow’s folks are like -that. They just get it into their heads that he’s a wonder, and――and -jump at conclusions. Of course, I did say that I was on the team――” - -“That was a whopper, wasn’t it?” I asked. - -“No! I _am_ on the team. I’m one of the squad, Gus. When you’re on the -squad you’re on the team, aren’t you?” - -“Not necessarily. Last month there were more than eighty fellows on the -squad, old son. Mean to tell me that they were all on the team?” - -“Different now,” growled Babe. “Only twenty-six. The kid’s right, Gus. -Shut up.” - -“Maybe,” went on Joe uncomfortably, “when I’d write home about the -games I’d sort of let them think I――I had more to do with them than I -had.” - -“Maybe,” said I, “seeing that you’ve only played in one, and then for -about ten minutes!” - -“Two,” said Joe, indignantly. “And I played all through one quarter in -the Glenwood game!” - -“Well, I guess it’s up to you to climb down, son, and tell your folks -you ain’t the glaring wonder they think you are.” - -“I suppose so,” agreed Joe, but he didn’t sound like he meant it. -“I thought of getting sick, so I could go to the infirmary, but I -guess it’s too late to develop anything now. If I’d got this letter -yesterday――――” - -“Don’t be an ass,” advised Babe gruffly. “Spunk up and tell ’em the -truth. No disgrace. Lots of fellows can’t play football. Look at Gus.” - -“Huh, you big elephant,” said I, “if I couldn’t play the old game -better than you ever dreamed of playing it――――” - -“Gee, I hate to ’fess up,” groaned Joe. “I’ll look such an ass, Babe!” - -Babe looked across suspiciously, and grunted. “Any one coming with your -folks, kid?” he asked. - -Joe nodded and reddened. “They’re bringing along a girl I know.” - -“Huh! So that’s it, eh? Thought you weren’t telling the whole of it. -The girl thinks you’re a bloomin’ hero, of course. You’ve been filling -her up with yarns about how you were the whole team, and how you won -last year’s game with Munson alone and unassisted, and――” - -“Oh, shut up,” begged Joe. “I never did! But you know what girls are, -Babe. Have a heart!” - -Babe looked flattered, and positively simpered, the big goof! You -couldn’t get him within half a block of a girl if you tried! He scowled -and pretended he didn’t know what I was laughing about, and said: -“Well, you might bandage a leg or an arm, Joe, and make believe you’d -busted it.” - -But Joe shook his head. “They’d ask about it and I’d have to lie,” -he said virtuously. “I thought of that, too. I’ve thought of about -everything, I guess, and nothing’s any good――except――――” - -He stopped and sort of choked. “’Cept what?” asked Babe. - -“Well――” Joe hesitated, gulped and blurted it out finally. “I was -thinking that maybe, seeing that no one cares much whether we beat -Mills or not, I was thinking that maybe if you fellows spoke to Rusty -he might let me play for a while!” - -“You have some swell thinks,” said I. - -Babe didn’t say anything for a moment. Just sat there hunched up in his -chair like a heathen idol. Finally he said, sort of thoughtful: “Rusty -won’t be here Saturday.” - -“You could speak to him to-morrow,” said Joe eagerly. - -Babe went on like he hadn’t heard him. “He and Hop and Danny and Slim -are going to Hawleyville to see Munson play. Newt Lewis’ll be in charge -on the side line and Pete Swanson or Gus here will be field captain, I -guess. Of course, Rusty will say what the line-up’s to be, but if one -of the fellows was taken out, say, after the first half, it would be up -to Newt to pick a sub. If I was you, Joe, I’d wait until Saturday.” - -“But I don’t believe Newt would put me in,” objected Joe sadly. -“There’s Hearn and Torrey――” - -“Torrey’ll be playing in the first line-up, in Hop’s place,” said Babe -calmly. “There’ll be you and Hearn and Jimmy Sawyer. Now if it happens -that Hop leaves Gus here temporary captain, and Gus says a good word -for you――” - -“Say,” I interrupted, “what do you think I am? I’d like to help Joe -out of his hole, of course, but you know mighty well he can’t play -half-back like Bob Hearn! It’s all right to say that the Mills game is -unimportant, but you know pesky well we want to win it, and Rusty wants -us to. Besides, Munson licked them ten to nothing two weeks back, and -we don’t want to do any worse than that, do we? No, sir, you can count -me out! I’ll stand by my friends, Babe, but I’m not going to risk the -old ball game that way!” - -“No one’s asking you to risk anything,” answered Babe, yawning like he -was going to swallow his foot. “You know well enough we can put it all -over that Mills outfit. If we couldn’t we’d have a swell chance to beat -Munson! They’ve lost that good full-back they had when Munson played -’em, Gus.” - -“But the guy that’s playing the position now is nearly as good,” I -objected. - -“Don’t believe it. He couldn’t be. Shut up and let your betters talk. -I guess we can pull it off, Joe. Don’t you worry, kid. Just leave it -to Gus and me. Only, for the love of little limes, if you do get in -Saturday don’t mix your signals the way you did yesterday in practice!” - -“I won’t,” said Joe, earnest and grateful. “Honest, fellows, if you’ll -let me in for the second half――” - -“Hold on!” said Babe. “That’s a big order, kid. I didn’t say anything -about getting you in for a whole half. Be reasonable!” - -“Yes, but don’t you see, Babe, if I get in at the start of the last -half I can explain――I mean the folks’ll think I’m being saved for the -Munson game the week after, but if I only play for a quarter, say, -they’ll get on to the whole gag!” - -“Kid, you’re a wonder,” said Babe admiringly. “All right, we’ll do the -best we can. Mind you keep this to yourself, though. No talking!” - -Joe agreed and was so grateful and relieved that he tried to make a -speech from the doorway, but Babe shut him up. Just as he was closing -the door, though, Babe called after him. “Say, Joe,” he asked, “have -you got a photograph of the dame?” - -Joe said he hadn’t, and went on out. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -GUS BILLINGS CONCLUDES - - -The Coach and Captain Hop MacLean and Danny Lord, who was first-string -quarterback, and Slim Porter went off to Hawleyville early Saturday -morning to see Munson play Kernwood and maybe get a line on her. Before -he went Rusty told me I was to captain the team that afternoon. - -“The manager will look after things off the field, Gus,” he said, “and -Thompson will play quarter. He knows what plays to use, so you’d better -let him run things as much as possible. Munson will have some scouts -here and we can’t afford to show our hand much. We’ll win if we can, -but I’d rather we took a licking than show too much of our game. Do the -best you can, Gus, and make your tackles good.” - -Joe’s folks arrived just after dinner in a shiny new car. Babe and I -saw them from our window. That is, Babe saw them and I got a couple -of peeks over his shoulder. He’d been sitting at the window for half -an hour. The car stopped almost underneath and he nearly fell out, -rubbering. Joe had made me promise to meet them, and so I went down. -Babe wouldn’t, of course. You can’t steer him against a girl to save -your life. Well, I haven’t much use for them either, but a chap’s got -to be courteous. Joe introduced me all around and we set out to see -the buildings, me walking with Aunt Emily and the girl. She was a -right pretty girl, but sort of shy, and didn’t have much to say. Sort -of small-town, you know. Wore her hair old-fashioned so you could see -her ears plain. The aunt was a pleasant old dame and she and I got on -swimming. Once she said: - -“Joseph tells me that you play on the football team, too, Mr. -Billings,” and I said, “Yes’m, I get to play now and then.” “Well,” she -said, smiling pleasantly, “we shall expect great things from you both -to-day.” - -We steered them up to Joe’s room in Routledge after a bit, and pretty -soon Joe’s roommate, Hal Norwin, came in and I beat it. Mr. Morris -seemed to think that Joe ought to go and get ready to play, too, but I -explained that he didn’t have to hurry because he wouldn’t get in until -the second half. “You see,” I said, “we’re sort of saving him, Mr. -Morris. If anything happened to Joe to-day we’d be in a pretty bad way -next Saturday, wouldn’t we?” Then I winked at Hal, who was looking sort -of surprised, and pulled my freight. - -It didn’t take us long to find that Munson wasn’t losing any tricks. -Tom Meadows pointed out three of her fellows in the visitors’ stand -just before the game started. “That biggest guy is Townsend, their left -guard, and――” - -“You don’t have to tell me,” said I. “I’ve played against him. And the -little fellow in the striped shirt is Quinn, the quarter, and the other -goof is Taylor, the only back that made any gains against us last year. -Well, I guess they won’t learn much here to-day, Tom.” - -We don’t charge for any of the games except the big game with Munson, -and so we usually draw pretty fair-sized crowds. Warrensburg folks -are mighty keen for anything they don’t have to pay for. So we had -the stands pretty well filled that afternoon by the time Mills kicked -off, and the other fellows had fetched along maybe a hundred and fifty -rooters who made an awful lot of noise when young Thompson juggled the -ball almost under our goal and gave me heart failure for a moment. -He managed to hold on to it finally, though, and we soon kicked out -of there, and the old game settled down to a see-saw that didn’t get -either team anything but hard knocks. - -We weren’t looking for a very good game, even with three of our -first-string players out of the line-up, for Mills wasn’t very heavy -and had lost more than half her games that year, but I’m here to say -that she sprung a surprise on us for fair that afternoon. For one -thing, she was so blamed quick that she found us napping time and -again; and she had a new variation of a fake forward pass that fooled -us finely until we got on to it. By the time we were hep to it she -had thrown a full-sized scare into us and worked the ball down into -our twenty-five yard line. But that was in the second quarter. The -first quarter didn’t show either team up much. We both punted a good -bit and tried the other fellow out and looked for a lucky break that -didn’t come. It wasn’t until that second period began that Mills got -down to work and had us worried for a while. She got two short runs -away around our left end, where Slim Porter’s absence was sorely felt, -as they say, and then pulled a lucky forward that made it first down -on our thirty-four. Then she stabbed at Babe and lost a yard. Then -that bean-pole of a full-back of hers worked that fake forward for the -second time, and made it go for ten yards, coming right through between -me and Conly when we weren’t looking for anything of the sort. I got a -nice wallop in the face in that play and had to call for time and get -patched up. - -After that, Mills got a yard outside Means, who was playing in Slim’s -place at left tackle, and made it first down on our twenty-five. I read -the riot act then, though not being able to talk very well on account -of having one side of my mouth pasted up with plaster, and we held her -for two downs. I guess she might have scored if she had tried a field -goal, but she was set on a touchdown and went after it with a short -heave over the center of the line that Thompson couldn’t have missed if -he had tried. I felt a lot better after that, and in two plays we had -the old pigskin back near the middle of the field. Then Pete Swanson -gummed things up by falling over his big feet and we had to punt. Just -before half-time we worked down to Mills’ twenty-seven and after Brill -had been stopped on a skin tackle play Pete went back and tried a drop -kick. He missed the goal by not less than six yards, the big Swede! -That about ended the half, and when we got over to the locker room in -the gymnasium we knew we’d been playing football! We were a sore crowd, -and Newt Lewis didn’t make us feel any better by telling us how rotten -we’d been. He kept it up until Babe told him to shut up or he’d bust -him and I said “Hear! Hear!” out of one side of my mouth. Everybody -was sore at everybody else. Thompson had the nerve to tell me I’d -interfered with his business of running the team and I told him where -he got off. Brill was mad because Thompson hadn’t let him try that goal -instead of Pete Swanson, and Pete was sore because he had failed. I -guess about the only fellows there who weren’t nursing grouches were -the subs who hadn’t got in, and amongst them was Joe in nice clean -togs, looking anxious and making signs to me and Babe. - -Well, we’d fixed it all right for him before the game. Babe was so -blamed stubborn and insistent that I had to agree to his frame-up in -self-defense and so I told Newt about Joe’s folks being there and how -he wanted to bask in the spot-light on account of them and that girl -and how it was my opinion that he hadn’t ever been given a fair chance -and was every bit as good as Hearn or Sawyer. It seemed that Rusty had -instructed Newt to use all the subs he could in the last half and so -Newt didn’t put up any holler about Joe. And when we went back again -there was our young hero at left half, in place of Torrey, looking -nervous but determined. I could see his folks in the school stand, the -girl in a blue dress, and his Uncle Preston’s black mustaches standing -out six inches on each side of his face. - -We had six second- or third-string fellows in our line-up when the -third quarter began, and I was plumb certain we had our work cut out -for us if we were going to win the old ball game. Mills came back at -us mighty savage after the kick-off and had things her own way until -we took a brace and made her punt. We sort of got together then and -worked the ends and a long forward pass and made her thirty-one. Then -we got penalized for holding and finally had to punt and Brill sent -the ball over the line. Play sort of see-sawed again for a while, with -Mills having slightly the better of the kicking game, and then the -first score came, and came unexpected. - -Joe had been holding his end up pretty well, partly because I’d tipped -Thompson off to go light on him, and he’d made a couple of yards for -us once or twice. Well, pretty soon Mills had to punt from around her -forty-five and Thompson went back up the field, taking Joe with him. -Torrey had been taking punts and Joe had taken Torrey’s place and so -Thompson calls him back without thinking much about it. The punt went -sort of askew and landed in the corner of the field. Joe didn’t judge -it for beans and it hit about on the fifteen yards and went up again -with him grabbing for it. He missed it but got it near the five-yard -line, and by that time a red-headed end named Brennan was right on top -of him. I don’t know how Brennan got there so quick but there he was. -Of course, if Joe had thought he’d have let the old ball alone, but -he didn’t. He grabbed it, juggled it a bit and froze on to it just as -this red-headed Mills right end came up. Then he started to run. By -that time there was a mob on the scene and I couldn’t see just what -happened. But when it was all over there was Joe a yard behind our goal -line with the ball still hugged tight and Bert Naylor was putting a big -white 2 on the score board where it said “Opponent.” Joe had scored a -safety! - -I started to bust into the poor boob, but he looked so unhappy I didn’t -have the heart to say much. I just told him he had probably lost the -game for us and a few things like that, and let it go. He certainly did -look sick over it. - -The Mills rooters went crazy and howled like a lot of red Indians and -we went back to the job, pretty well determined now to make the fur fly -and get a score. The quarter ended pretty soon after Joe had scored for -the enemy and we changed goals. Newt threw in a couple more subs, the -silly jay, and I expected he’d sink Joe, but he didn’t. If we could -have opened up on those fresh Mills guys and used a few of our scoring -plays we could have licked them quick enough, I guess, but Thompson -had his orders from Rusty not to show anything and nothing I could -say would move him. Just the same, we got going pretty well in that -last period and ate our way down to the enemy’s nineteen yards only -to have a sub that Newt had stuck in for Pete Swanson boot the game -away by a perfectly inexcusable fumble that Mills captured. Newt had a -brain storm then and sent Bentley in to take my place, and although I -offered to punch him full of holes if he didn’t get off the field and -told him I was captain the umpire butted in and I had to beat it. So I -saw the rest of the game from the bench, and didn’t mind it much after -Newt pulled Babe out two plays later. Babe was so mad that I felt a lot -better. - -Mills was just playing for time now, willing to quit any moment seeing -she was two points to the good and had us beat if only the whistle -would blow. But there was still one kick left in the old team, even -if it was mostly subs by now, and when there was something like four -minutes left Thompson got off a corking forward pass to left end that -landed the ball on Mills’ forty-two yards. Another attempt at the -same stunt grounded, and Brill, pretty near the only first-string man -left, snaked through for four yards and made it third down on the -thirty-eight. The stands had sort of quieted down now and I could hear -Thompson’s signals plain. They called for a cross-buck by right half, -and when the starting number came I saw Thompson grab the ball, swing -around half a turn and hold it forward. Then everything went wrong. -That idiot Joe Kenton had got his signals twisted again! He beat the -other half to the ball by inches, grabbed it from Thompson and shot -through outside guard. I guess there’s a special luck for fools, for -Joe found a hole as wide as the Mississippi River, and the first -thing I knew he was side-stepping one back, giving the straight arm to -another and twisting right through the whole outfit! - -Well, there’s no use making a long story any longer. Joe had speed, if -he didn’t know much football. Baseball had taught him that; and it had -taught him to be quick on the getaway, too, and it was quickness on the -getaway that got him through the Mills’ lines. After that the quarter -was the only thing between him and the goal. I guess there wasn’t one -of the Mills bunch that could have run him down from behind. That -quarter tried to get Joe near the twenty-yard line, but it looked to me -like he was too certain, for Joe sort of skidded on one foot, twisted -his body and was off on the other foot, and I don’t believe the quarter -even touched him. Two long-legged Mills guys chased him over the line, -squarely between the posts, but it wasn’t until Joe was lying on the -ball that they reached him. - -After the ball was brought out Brill tried to make those six points -into seven, but he missed the goal worse than Pete Swanson had. No one -cared much for 6 to 2 was good enough, and after Mills had kicked off -again and we had piled into their line a couple of times the game was -over. - -I happened to be in front of Routledge about half an hour later, when -Joe’s folks were getting ready to go home, and I could see that Joe had -made an awful hit with the whole bunch. Old man Morris was as proud -as anything, and so was Joe’s mother, while that uncle of his, with -his trick mustaches, was so haughty that he bumped his head getting -into the car. I guess the girl was tickled, too, but you couldn’t -tell by her looks. Joe was mighty modest, too, I’ll say that for him. -You wouldn’t have guessed he was a hero, just by looking at him. I -helped Aunty into the car, and she smiled and thanked me and said, as -she shook hands: “I think you did just beautifully, Mr. Billings, but -wasn’t Joseph wonderful?” - -“Wonderful,” I said without cracking a smile, “isn’t the word for it!” - -When Rusty got back and heard about the game he looked sort of -disgusted, and then he laughed and finally he looked surprised. -“Kenton?” he said, frowning. “How come, Newt? We dropped Kenton two -weeks ago!” - -“No, you didn’t, Coach,” said Newt. “Maybe you meant to, but you -didn’t.” - -“That so? Must have forgot it then. H-m. Well, it looks like it was a -fortunate thing I did forget it, seeing Kenton was the only one of you -with enough pep to make a score!” - -That evening we were talking it over in Number 11, four or five of -us. Joe didn’t show up, being so modest, I suppose. Finally Newt said: -“Well, we can laugh all we want to, but we’ve got to hand it to Joe -Kenton for one thing. He’s the only fellow I ever heard of who played -in a football game, in which both sides scored, and made all the -points!” - -When the Munson game was over, all but forty seconds of it, and we had -them beaten, 19 to 7, Rusty beckoned Joe from the bench. “Kenton,” he -said, “I’m going to put you in so you can get your letter. Go on in at -right half, son, but――listen here――no matter what happens _don’t you -touch that ball_!” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -CAMP RESTHERE - - -Three boys descended from the afternoon train, dragging after them -duffle bags, blanket rolls and bundles until, as the four-car train -took up its slow and seemingly painful journey again, they were fairly -surrounded. The half dozen witnesses of the exciting event surveyed the -three arrivals silently, unblinkingly for a space and then returned to -the interrupted routines of their lives, dispersing at various angles -across the snowy expanse that represented North Pemberton’s principal -business street. Leaving his companions on guard Hal Norwin followed, -directing his steps toward a rambling white building with blue doors -and window frames bearing the faded legend “Timkins’ Livery Stable.” -The agent disappeared into the station, closing the waiting room door -behind him with a most inhospitable-sounding _bang_. Bert Madden yawned -and then settled his chin more snugly into the upturned collar of his -mackinaw. - -“Nice lively sort of a dump,” he observed. - -Joe Kenton smiled. “How far is it to the camp, Bert?” he asked. The -sudden jangling of sleigh bells broke the silence and both boys turned -toward the stable. A man in an old bearskin coat was leading a horse -through the doorway and Hal was holding up the shafts of a double -sleigh. - -“Eight miles, I think he said,” answered Bert. “Gee, we’ll never get -all this truck in that sleigh!” - -But they did, and themselves and the driver as well, and ten minutes -later they were jingle-jangling along the narrow road, the runners -creaking on the firm snow, leaving North Pemberton behind. The old -blankets and fur robes under which the boys nestled were warm enough -for a much colder day, and the bags and bundles, piled about them, -added to the warmth. The sun was setting beyond Little Rat and Big -Rat Mountains, and the western sky was aglow. Presently, climbing the -slight grade between Little Rat and Marble Mountains, they crossed a -rude bridge, under which a stream gurgled beneath a canopy of ice. - -“Is that Rat Brook?” asked Hal. - -“Glover’s,” answered the driver. He pointed his whip to the left. -“Rat’s over there about a mile or so. Glover’s comes out of it further -along.” - -“Oh, yes,” assented Hal, his voice muffled by the flap of his collar, -“I remember now. Rat Brook crossed the other road, the one toward -Burton.” The driver nodded, spoke to the horse and flicked his whip -harmlessly. “I should think,” pursued Hal, “that the other road would -be the shortest.” - -“Yep, about a mile, but this road’s easier. Too many hills that way. -Only one on this road, and that’s just behind us. Get ap, Judy!” - -Coming around the northern shoulder of Little Rat, they found the -sunset gone and the long purple shadows of evening stalking across the -floor of the little valley. Big Rat loomed beyond, wooded and dark. Hal -pointed westward. “Old Forge Pond’s over there,” he said. The boys in -the back seat looked, but there was nothing to see save a rather flat -forest of new growth maples and oaks and birches. Then, suddenly, as -they turned on the winding road, a streak of tarnished silver met their -gaze for an instant and was swiftly swallowed up by the trees. - -“That was Rat Brook,” Hal informed them. “If we followed it we’d come -out at the lower end of the pond. It wouldn’t be more than three miles, -I guess.” - -“Thanks,” said Bert, “I’m quite comfy as I am. There’s only one thing -troubling me, Hal. When do we eat?” - -“Just as soon as we can,” laughed Hal. “We’ll get there in about -three quarters of an hour, I guess.” He looked to the driver for -confirmation, but the furwrapped figure failed to commit himself. -“Then we’ll fix up a bit and Joe can start supper.” - -“Me!” exclaimed Joe startledly. “Gee, Hal, I can’t cook!” - -Hal chuckled. “Well,” came from the front seat, “you’ll be able to do -all the cooking we’ll need to-night, Joe. I guess some cold grub, with -a cup of hot tea, will answer.” - -There was a faint groan of protest from Bert, but Joe relaxed again, -relieved. They came to a corner and turned left on a broader and more -traveled road. “Turnpike,” announced the driver. “Lineville about -nine miles.” He flicked his whip northward. Then, after awhile, the -woods on their left gave way to meadow and Hal shouted: “There she -is!” And there she was, indeed, “she” being a curving, mile-long -expanse of frozen lake, nestling under the upreaching slope of Little -Rat. Here and there along the further shore small camps nestled -under snow-powdered pines or leafless hardwood, four or five in all, -deserted, every one. There had been several snow-falls up here in the -hills already――to-day was the twenty-seventh of December――but they had -been light, and the surface of the lake had been swept clean by the -wind after each flurry. The driver said he guessed there was a good -four inches of ice there, and the boys rejoiced. - -“Great,” said Bert. “That’s more than enough to skate on and we won’t -have to cut through much to fish.” - -“You aimin’ to fish?” inquired the driver. There was a tolerant note in -his voice that caused Hal to assume that he thought they’d be wasting -their time. But no, he guessed they’d catch some pickerel if they were -lucky. “I couldn’t ever see any fun in freezin’ my feet that way, -though,” he added. - -“Well, it is rather cold weather,” laughed Hal, “but if we build a good -fire on shore it’s not so bad.” - -The driver grunted doubtfully and the sleigh swung from the turnpike -into a narrow lane that wound between pine and spruce. The branches -sometimes flicked their faces and spattered dry snow about them. The -lake came into sight again close beside them, its darkening surface -seeming now like a great sheet of shimmering metal. Then the jingling -bells ceased and there, in a small clearing, stood the camp, its modest -bulk silhouetted against the ice. A rustic sign overhung a little path -that led down to the cabin, and on it the word RESTHERE was printed. - -Followed a busy five minutes during which the bags and rolls and -packages were carried to the cabin and the driver accepted his modest -fee of three dollars, promised faithfully to return for them four days -later and climbed back to his seat. There, having pulled three of the -robes about him and gathered his reins in hand, he paused to cast a -dubious look about the twilit surroundings. - -“Mean to stay here all alone?” he asked. - -“Sure,” agreed Hal. - -“H-m,” said the man. “Well, every fellow to his taste. Too blamed -lonesome to suit me, though. Good evenin’. Get ap, Judy!” - -The cabin was of boards and battens and weather tight. There was -one good-sized room for all purposes save cooking. The kitchen――a -kitchenette Bert called it――was tacked on behind. It was just big -enough for the stove, the wood box, and the cupboard and a wide shelf -along one side that served as a table. The cabin held everything they -needed for their four-day sojourn, save food, and that they had brought -along in generous quantities. Cot beds, plenty of woolen blankets, -kitchen utensils, stoneware dishes, even reading matter in the shape of -magazines several months old awaited them. There was a small fire place -and, outside, a rampart like pile of cordwood, chestnut, hickory and -birch. Hal viewed its snug comfort with a proud proprietory air, while -Bert, his hands in the pockets of his capacious knickers, opined that -it was “one swell joint,” and Joe, who had never so much as seen a camp -before, was reduced to an almost awed admiration. - -They “made camp,” as Hal phrased it, and then set about getting supper. -There was a pump outside the kitchen door, but it failed, of course, -to work, and Bert went off with a pail and a hatchet to get water from -the pond. Hal filled the wood box beside the stove and piled fagots in -the fireplace while Joe tore the wrappings from the groceries and set -out the tea and bread and strawberry jam and potted tongue and butter. -Presently the fire was crackling merrily in the stove, Bert came back -with the water, blowing on numbed fingers, and Hal unearthed the can -opener from the knife box in the cupboard. A quarter of an hour later -they were seated around the table in the big room with the hickory and -birch logs snapping and blazing beside them. Everything tasted better -than it had ever tasted before in any one’s recollection, and Joe made -two trips to the kitchen for more bread. Dish washing fell to the lot -of Bert, and Hal wiped. Joe drew a canvas chair to the fire, stretched -out tired limbs and was nearly asleep when the others finished. Bert -wanted to put his skates on and try the ice, and Hal after protesting -that it was too dark to have any fun, unenthusiastically agreed to -accompany him, but nothing came of it. An early rising, a tiresome -journey, the long drive in the cold air and, now, the lulling warmth of -the fire were too much for them. Joe went to sleep and snored frankly. -Long before nine they were all in bed and hard at it. - -They were up before eight, which, used as they all were to being -called, coaxed and threatened into wakefulness, was doing pretty well. -Breakfast over they donned skates and went out on the lake. It was a -gorgeous morning, with a blue sky and golden sunlight. The air was cold -but dry, and, while the thermometer which Hal had hung out overnight -proclaimed the temperature to be eighteen above, they seemed scarcely -to need the heavy clothing they had put on. Bert was an excellent -skater, and Hal was almost as good. Hal, indeed, had won several prizes -for speed skating. Bert’s inclination ran more to fancy “stunts” and -tricks, and this morning he fairly outdid himself. Joe, a mere beginner -and a most unpromising one, moved diffidently about and watched, at -once admiring and envious. Presently they set out together to follow -the shore and explore. It wasn’t long before Joe had fallen behind, but -he was fairly content with his progress since, at least, he had managed -to keep on his feet; and that was something of a triumph for Joe! He -caught up with them when they stopped to climb ashore and investigate -the first of the neighboring camps, and lost them again beyond the turn -of the lake. They shouted laughing encouragement to him now and then, -but they didn’t wait for him, and he came on them next when they rested -on the edge of the little bridge that carried the pond road across the -mouth of Rat Brook. Old Forge Pond was fed by springs and by dozens -of trickling rills that wound down from the encompassing hills, but -it had only one outlet, and that was Rat Brook. It, too, was frozen -solid on top, although by listening intently they could hear the soft -rippling and gurgling of the water beneath. It was about twelve feet -broad at its widest and flowed off eastward between birch and alder and -witch-hazel to North Pemberton and, eventually, the Chicontomoc River. - -“It would be sort of fun to skate down the brook,” suggested Bert. “How -far could you go, do you think?” - -“Most to North Pemberton, I guess,” said Hal. “There isn’t much fall to -it. Maybe you’d have to walk around here and there, though. We’ll try -it some time, eh?” - -Joe wasn’t nearly rested when they started on, but he dropped from the -bridge heroically and went, too, trying his best to copy Hal’s easy -motions and to keep his strokes long. He thought he was doing pretty -well, too, but pride goeth before a fall, and suddenly the ice rose -up and smote him heavily and complacency was swiftly jarred out of -him. The others, well ahead, waved consoling hands, but didn’t stop. -They were used to seeing Joe tumble. When he picked himself up he no -longer tried to emulate Hal, but continued in his own safer, if less -attractive style, reaching the camp some time after the others, rather -tired but suffering from no further contusions. - -They chopped holes through the ice a little later and rigged their -lines, not without difficulty. By that time their thoughts turned -toward food and the fishing operations were postponed until afternoon. -Then, with a good fire burning on the shore, they baited their hooks -and sat down to watch the tiny wisps of cloth, which, torn from an old -red tablecloth, shone bravely in the afternoon sunlight. They sat there -nearly an hour before any of the three flags showed signs of life. Then -Hal’s jerked upward and Hal, scrambling to his feet, skated swiftly -toward it, so swiftly, in fact, that he over-skated the hole. But he -landed a fair-sized pickerel and was proudly displaying the agitated -fish when Joe gave a shrill yell and went plunging, floundering, arms -waving, to where, further up the lake his particular little red flag -was threatening to follow the line under the ice. The others, watching, -whooped with glee at Joe’s antics and roared when, losing his balance -at last, he crashed to the ice and arrived at the hole on the seat of -his knickers! He, too, captured his trophy, which, on comparison, was -found to be a half inch longer than Hal’s, although Hal did his utmost -to stretch his pickerel enough to offset the difference. At dusk they -had five fish. Hal had caught two, Joe had caught two and Bert one. -But Bert’s was so much larger that there couldn’t be any discussion. -It measured just seventeen and five-eighths inches by the yard stick. -Bert was very insistent on the five-eighths! Both he and Joe disclaimed -any knowledge of the gentle art of cleaning fish, and so that duty fell -to Hal. Supper that night was wonderful, for fried pickerel――even if -not dipped in crumbs, and these weren’t――are delicious at any time and -doubly so when you have caught them yourself. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -UNINVITED GUESTS - - -Another night of deep, restful sleep followed, and in the morning they -woke to find that it had snowed a good two inches already and was still -at it. There was enough wind, however, to clear the ice in places, and -they went skating again. A block of wood and three sticks gave them -an hour’s fun at shinny, during which Joe fell down on an average of -once a minute and occasioned no end of amusement for his companions. He -limped noticeably while getting dinner and, during that meal, paused -frequently to place a gentle inquiring hand on various surfaces. Later -they tried fishing again, the snow, now coming down in larger flakes -and in a more desultory fashion, adding to the enjoyment. Perhaps the -pickerel disliked being out in a snowstorm, for the boys sat around -the fire a long while, talking and listening to the hiss of the flakes -against the embers, without interruption until there came a faint -hail from across the lake and they descried dimly a horse and sleigh -outlined against the snowy bank beyond the distant turnpike and the -figure of a man standing at the edge of the ice. - -“Better go and see what he wants,” said Bert, and they skated over. The -man on the shore was a big, burly, red-faced individual, in a rough -brown ulster and a peaked cloth cap. A second man remained in the -sleigh beyond. - -“You boys been around here long?” asked the man gruffly. - -“Since day before yesterday,” replied Bert. “We’re staying at Mr. -Norwin’s camp over there in the cove.” - -The man rolled the remains of an unlighted cigar between his lips while -his eyes, small but very bright and keen, ranged over the lads. Then: -“Seen any one else around here this morning?” he asked. - -“No, sir, not a soul,” Bert assured him. - -The man’s gaze roamed across the lake and he nodded toward the deserted -cabins there. “Ain’t seen any one around any of those camps?” - -“No, they’re closed up tight. We were around there yesterday.” - -“Ain’t been around to-day, though, have you?” - -“No, sir, not yet.” - -The man nodded. “Guess I’d better take a look,” he said more to himself -than to them. “My name’s Collins,” he added then. “I’m Sheriff down to -Pemberton. A couple of thugs walked into Robbins’s hardware store at -North Pemberton last night about nine o’clock and got away with three -hundred and sixty-eight dollars in money and two Liberty Bonds. Old man -Robbins was working on his books and had his safe open. They cracked -him over the head and almost did for the old fellow.” To his hearers -it seemed that Mr. Sheriff Collins dwelt almost lovingly on the latter -portion of his narrative. - -“That――that was too bad,” said Hal, rather lamely. - -Mr. Collins grunted. “Guess he’ll pull through, though he’s pretty -old to get bumped like he did. Well, you fellows keep your eyes open -and if you see any suspicious characters around get in touch with my -office right away, understand. They might show up here. You can’t tell. -Last night’s snow came along pretty lucky for ’em, covering up their -foot-prints like it did. Guess if it hadn’t been for the snow I’d have -caught ’em before this.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Bert, “we’ll keep a lookout. Only I don’t just see,” -he added dubiously, “how we could let you know if we did see them. I -don’t suppose there’s any telephone around here, is there?” - -The Sheriff pursed his lips and studied the stub of cigar, which he -removed for the purpose. “Guess that’s so, too,” he acknowledged. -“There’s a ’phone at Old Forge, but that’s pretty nigh six miles. And -there’s one at Lincoln’s, up――no, there ain’t neither. He had it taken -out last summer ’cause the city folks was always runnin’ in there to -ring up Boston or New York or some place and always forgettin’ to pay -for it. Well, there’s telephones down to North Pemberton, anyway, and――” - -“How far would that be?” asked Bert innocently. - -The Sheriff blinked. “’Bout eight or nine miles, maybe, by road: ’bout -six if you take the trail.” - -Bert grinned. “I’m afraid the robbers would get away before we reached -the telephone,” he said. - -“That’s my lookout.” Sheriff Collins spoke sternly. “It’s your duty -as a citizen to let me know just as soon as you can if those fellers -turn up around here, and, mind, I’m holdin’ you to it.” He glared hard -a moment, rolling his soggy fragment of cigar in his mouth. Then he -nodded, turned and scrambled back up the slope to where the sleigh -awaited. - -The boys skated back to the fire, replenished it and discussed the -exciting event. The sound of sleigh bells coming ever nearer told -them that Sheriff Collins was following the road around the lake to -the empty cabins. Presently it passed behind them and became fainter. -Joe looked thoughtfully along the curving shore. “You know,” he said, -“those robbers might be around. We don’t know that they aren’t.” - -Bert sniffed. “Pshaw,” he said, “they wouldn’t stay around here. They’d -hike out for the city.” - -Hal was thereupon prompted to tell just what he would do to throw -the bloodhounds of the Law off his track in case he had committed a -robbery, and then Bert indulged in a few theories, and thus a pleasant -half hour passed, during which the Sheriff’s sleigh jingled back and -past and out of hearing, presumably without the fugitives. Wearying -of the subject under discussion, Joe presently arose and slid out on -to the ice, where, thinking himself unobserved, he attempted a figure -eight and promptly sat down. The resultant concussion was sufficient to -attract the attention of the others, and Bert asked in a very disgusted -voice: - -“Gee, Joe, aren’t you _ever_ going to learn to skate?” - -“I don’t believe so,” replied Joe dolefully. - -“Well, you never will until you _do_ believe it,” said Hal decidedly. -“You’ve got to have confidence, Joe. Just――just forget yourself a -minute, you dumb-bell; forget that you’re skating and strike out as -though you wanted to get somewhere and didn’t know you had skates on at -all! Just――just let your skates do it!” - -That may have been excellent advice, but Joe didn’t act on it. -Discouragedly he returned to the dying fire. Bert viewed him with -disfavor. - -“You’re scared,” he said. “That’s your main trouble. You’re afraid -you’ll fall.” - -“So would you be if you were black-and-blue all over,” replied Joe -spiritedly. “I don’t mind falling now and then; anyway, I ain’t afraid; -but I don’t like to fall all the time!” - -Hal laughed. “Why don’t you try tying a pillow behind you, Joe?” - -Joe echoed the laugh, though faintly. “I guess it would have to be -a――what do you call it?――bolster!” - -“We aren’t going to get any fish to-day,” said Bert, “and I’m getting -frozen. Let’s pull up the lines and go in.” Hal agreed, and, when the -lines were up, he and Bert started toward camp. “Aren’t you coming, -Joe?” Hal called. - -“Not just yet,” Joe replied. “I guess I’ll stay out and――and fall down -awhile!” - -The others went on, laughing, leaving Joe the sole occupant of the -broad frozen surface. It had stopped snowing now, and there was a -hint of color in the west that promised clearing. Joe started warily -down the lake, keeping near the shore where the wind had freakishly -swept the powdery snow from the ice and arranged it in long windrows -whose shadowed hollows were purpling with the twilight. It was, he -reflected, all well enough for Hal to tell him to have confidence, -but――here Joe’s arms described a windmill sweep in the air and he -narrowly escaped a tumble――how could you have confidence when you just -went off your feet every time you tried to skate faster than a walk? -There was, though, a good deal of persistent courage in his make-up, -and he kept on, rather more confident perhaps because he was safe from -observation. He rounded the turn and could see, far ahead, the little -bridge that spanned the outlet. As he floundered on, awkwardly but with -grim determination, he passed the empty, shuttered cabins. They looked -lonesome and eerie in the gathering shadows, and he recalled with a -little nervous thrill the visit of the Sheriff and his mission. - -Back in the camp, Hal aroused the smouldering fire in the chimney place -and he and Bert, having removed their damp mackinaws and damper boots, -drew chairs to the fire and sank luxuriously into them. “Funny about -Joe,” observed Bert, after a silence. “You’d think a fellow as old as -he is――sixteen, isn’t he?――would have learned to skate better.” - -“That’s so,” Hal agreed. “He can do other things though.” - -“Sure,” said Bert, grinning. “Like cooking.” - -“Yes, and――say, Bert, I wonder if we’re putting it on him a bit. Making -him do the cooking. Maybe we ought to take turns.” - -“I don’t believe he minds,” answered the other, comfortably. “Besides, -neither of us could do it, I guess. There he comes now. Let’s hope he -hasn’t busted any of his arms or legs!” - -But it wasn’t Joe who threw open the door and entered. It was a -stranger. And it was a second stranger who entered on his heels and -closed the door behind him. They were an unattractive couple; one -small, wiry, smirking; the other thickset, dark-visaged and scowling. -They wore thick woolen sweaters under their jackets, but their shoes -were thin and it wasn’t difficult to surmise that when they continued -their journey they would be more appropriately clad for the weather, -and at the expense of the occupants of the camp. Neither of the boys -had a moment’s doubt as to the identity of the visitors. The Sheriff’s -story was too fresh in their minds. It was Hal who found his voice -first and gave them a dubious “Hello!” - -The men waived amenities, however, and the big one spoke. “Say, kids, -we’re hikin’ down to Weston an’ we’re sort of up against it. Get me? -We ain’t had nothin’ to eat since mornin’ an’ we’re fair perishin’. We -seen the smoke an’ come over to see could we get a snack.” - -“Why, yes, we can give you something to eat,” answered Hal, a trifle -tremulously, “but we haven’t started supper yet. If you want to wait――” - -“Aw, where do you get that stuff?” interrupted the smaller man, -thrusting forward to the fire and holding his hands to the warmth. “We -ain’t society folks, bo. We can eat any time!” - -“Shut up, Slim,” growled his companion. “Sure, we’ll wait. Somethin’ -hot’s what I’m cravin’, an’ not no cold hand-out.” - -“Say, listen――” began the other, but he stopped at a menacing scowl and -only muttered, darting a nervous look toward a window. Bert and Hal -had exchanged troubled glances that had in some manner established the -understanding that Hal was to do the talking and Bert was to take his -cue from him. Hal pulled another chair to the hearth. - -“Better get warm,” he suggested. “It――it’s sort of cold, isn’t it?” He -seated himself on Bert’s cot, yielding his chair to the man called Slim. - -“You said it,” agreed the bigger man almost amiably, as the chair -creaked under his weight. “You guys live here all the time?” - -“Oh, no, we’re just here for a few days. We’re from Central City.” - -“Huh, must be sort of lonely.” - -Hal agreed that it was, sort of. He was doing a good deal of thinking, -a lot more than he was accustomed to, was Hal; and he was ready for the -next question when it came. - -“Guess you don’t have many visitors,” went on the man with assumed -carelessness. “Bet you ain’t seen a stranger, before us, for days.” - -Hal laughed with a fine imitation of amusement. “You lose, then. There -was a man here just this afternoon; two of them, in fact.” He heard -the smaller visitor draw his breath in sharply, but his amused look -didn’t waver from the other man’s face. The latter narrowed his eyes -suspiciously. - -“That so? Two of ’em, eh? What did they want?” - -“Oh, I don’t know,” answered Hal carelessly. “Something about a robbery -somewhere. Where’d he say it was, Bert?” - -“Pemberton, wasn’t it?” asked Bert uninterestedly. - -“Yes, I guess it was. One of the men said he was a sheriff. They didn’t -stay long. Went around the lake and came out again and drove off toward -Thompson.” - -“Lookin’ for a robber, was he?” asked the big man calmly. “Well, say, -I hope he catches him. There’s a heap too many yeggs round the country -nowadays. Ain’t that so, Slim?” Slim agreed unenthusiastically that -it was. Slim didn’t look, however, as though he enjoyed the subject. -He sat on the edge of his chair and failed to share his companion’s -apparent comfort. “Thompson’s about twelve miles, ain’t it?” continued -the other idly. - -“Thirteen, I think,” replied Hal. “Gee, I wouldn’t much care about -chasing robbers this kind of weather. Bet that sheriff won’t get back -to Pemberton before morning.” - -“Ain’t that a shame?” commented the man. “Say, I ain’t meanin’ to butt -in, sonny, but what about the eats? We got a fair ways to go yet. Get -me? Lineville’s our next stop.” - -“I’ll start supper right off,” said Hal. “Must be ’most time, anyway.” -He raised his voice and spoke with surprising heartiness. Had the man -been watching him just then, which he wasn’t, having transferred his -gaze momentarily to the leaping flames, he might almost have thought -that Hal was trying to make his tones carry beyond the further window -on which his eyes were set. “I don’t know how good it’ll be, though, -for, you see, the fellow that’s our regular cook has gone to North -Pemberton, and I guess he won’t be back yet awhile. But I’ll do――” - -“Eh?” exclaimed the big man startledly. “North Pemberton? What’s he -gone there for?” - -“We get our groceries there,” answered Hal, rising from the cot, -stretching and moving aimlessly toward the front of the cabin. “It’s -about eight miles, I guess, and he isn’t likely to get back for a -couple of hours.” Hal stopped at one of the two windows and stared -out. “Hope he don’t get lost coming back. It’s as black as my pocket -to-night.” - -It was black, if one excepted the lake. That was darkly gray, and the -moving form close to the nearer shore was momentarily visible ere it -melted into the shadows. Hal turned away from the window. “Well,” he -announced cheerfully, “guess we might as well light up.” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -DOWN THE BROOK - - -As it happened, Joe had been coming back along the shore when the two -men had emerged from the woods at the left of the cabin. They had not, -he was certain, seen him, for he had instinctively swerved behind -a clump of brush. His instant suspicion had become certainty when, -watching, he had seen the strangers peer cautiously about them before -slinking hurriedly to the front door. When they had entered, Joe stood -for a long minute, his thoughts racing. He visioned his friends robbed -and beaten, perhaps murdered. His first, not unnatural, impulse, was -toward flight, but it was brief, and after that he set himself to find -a practical means of helping the others. Several more minutes went by -and the twilight deepened. At last Joe approached the cabin, keeping to -the shadows. The windows were warmly lighted by the flickering flames -of the fire as he crept across the porch toward the nearer one, and -he could hear the low murmur of voices; sometimes could distinguish a -word. His first hurried glance over the sill brought a sigh of relief. -The scene inside was reassuringly different from what he had feared -to find. Yet he was sure that the elements of tragedy were there, and -he was striving desperately to think of some plan to circumvent the -intruders when, looking again, he found Hal’s eyes on his. Then came -Hal’s voice, suddenly raised, in the words: “I don’t know how good -it’ll be, though, for, you see, the fellow that’s our regular cook has -gone to North Pemberton, and I guess he won’t be back yet awhile.” - -An instant later Joe was tottering cautiously over the frozen ground -to the lake, his skates catching in hidden roots or colliding with -snow-covered snags. Fortunately the distance was but a dozen rods, -and he covered it without misadventure. Then he was skating along the -deeper blackness of the margin, slowly that the sound of the steel -blades on the ice might not be heard back at the cabin. And as he -skated he thought hard. From the little he had seen and heard he had -gathered a very correct idea of the situation back there. The robbers, -who had doubtless been in hiding in the hills between North Pemberton -and the lake since last night, had arrived at the cabin chilled and -hungry. Doubtless they had demanded food and Hal had agreed to cook -supper for them. Then he had happened to see the face at the window and -had sent his message. “Hurry to North Pemberton and give the alarm,” -was the way Joe had construed it. “We’ll keep them here as long as we -can.” - -And now, past the curving point of the land, Joe set his thoughts on -the far end of the lake and put every bit of effort into his swaying -body. Just when the plan to follow Rat Brook on skates instead of -seeking road or trail came to him he could not have told. It was there, -suddenly, in his mind the moment he reached the turn of the shore. He -no longer sought concealment nor smooth ice, but headed as straight -as his sense of direction pointed. The farther shore leaped out at -him from the darkness suddenly and he had to check his speed to duck -under the little bridge. Then he was off again, the ice-roofed brook -stretching ahead of him plainly discernible in the faint early radiance -of the stars. His skates seemed to awake hollow echoes, but the ice -was firm beneath its occasional crust or light blanket of snow. Rat -Brook had little current, so little that it froze almost as soon as -the lake, and while the water moved sluggishly beneath the ice it did -not weaken it. There was a straight stretch, like a canal, for nearly -a quarter of a mile, and then the brook turned to the right, following -the base of Little Rat Mountain, and after that curved continuously. -Often the forest closed in on both sides and Joe must perforce trust to -luck rather than to vision, yet save once or twice he held his course. -Branches slashed at him, and now and then a protruding root or fallen -tree strove to trip him. But somehow, in some instinctive fashion, he -passed them all safely and without decreasing his speed. Had he stopped -thinking of his errand long enough to consider that speed he would have -been tremendously surprised, for he was skating just about twice as -fast as he had ever skated in his life, and, moreover――which, if Hal -was right, was possibly the reason for it――doing it without conscious -thought! - -The brook had been turning slowly to the right for some minutes when, -reaching a clear stretch, Joe saw trouble ahead. The brook broadened -where a second stream entered and a blacker path there told him that -he was looking at open water. He might stop, with difficulty, and veer -into the inhospitable arms of the trees and shrubs, or he might keep -on, trusting to luck to find ice along the margin. He chose the latter. -Then there was a gurgling and murmuring of water in his ears, a wide -pool of moving water at his feet and the swift realization that for at -least three yards the ice was gone from bank to bank! - -He had frequently seen Bert leap over a fairly high obstruction set on -the surface of the ice, such as a barrel or a low hurdle, and he had -witnessed other fellows make broad-jumps on skates, but how these feats -had been accomplished he had no very clear notion. Nor had he time -to consider the matter now, for almost as soon as he had sighted the -crisis he was up to it. His heart did a little somersault about under -his front collar button, as it seemed, and then he had brought his -gliding skates together, had bent at the knees, had snapped his body -straight again and was flying through air. - -He landed in darkness, yet on a solid surface. His left foot, trailing, -caught its skate point on the edge of the ice and brought him to his -knees, but, by sweeping his arms wildly, he somehow kept his balance -and somehow got both feet beneath him once more and again struck out. -A moment later a sudden sharp bend found him unprepared and he had to -spread his skates wide apart and throw his body hard to the right, and -even so he almost came a cropper and only saved himself by a complete -spin that must have looked more surprising than graceful. Yet that was -the only time he really slowed down from lake to town, the town that -scarcely a minute later shot its lights at him through the trees. Even -the bridge failed to halt him, for there was headroom if one skated -low, and after that the trees, and even the bushes, were gone and he -was speeding through a flat meadow, with the church and houses of North -Pemberton standing sharply against the winter sky ahead. - -His journey by ice ended where a wagon bridge crossed the brook -near where the town’s one illuminated sign proclaimed “Telegraph and -Telephone.” He climbed the bridge abutment and floundered across the -roadway. In the telegraph office a girl blinked startledly at the sound -of his skates as he waddled from door to counter. - -“I want to get the Sheriff’s office in Pemberton,” gasped Joe, his -breath just about all gone now. “I――it’s important!” - -The girl came to life quickly. “Sheriff’s office?” she asked briskly. -“If you want the Sheriff he’s here at the Hotel. One block to your -left!” The last sentence was in a higher voice, for Joe was already -clanking through the doorway. - -Camp Resthere’s uninvited guests did full justice to the meal that -Hal finally set before them, the more so, doubtless, because Hal had -encountered all sorts of difficulties and delays. One thing after -another had, it appeared, been mislaid, so that it required both his -and Bert’s most earnest efforts to find it. At such times there were -opportunities for hurried conferences. Then Hal cut his finger while -slicing bread. At least, Bert spent fully ten minutes bandaging it, -although, strangely enough, there was no scar in sight the next day. -The visitors, especially Slim, displayed more or less impatience, -but the fire was comforting, they were fairly certain of a long -respite from unwelcome attentions on the part of Sheriff Collins -and they contented themselves with grumbling. In the end even Hal’s -resourcefulness in the matter of inventing delays was exhausted and -supper was served. It was a good supper, as it should have been since -Hal had cooked up about everything in sight and practically left the -larder bare. But there was none too much for the half-famished guests. -They ate fast and wolfishly of everything and displayed no hesitation -in asking for “seconds” or “thirds.” Yet, instead of displeasing their -hosts they did just the opposite, and Hal beamed and urged them on in -most hospitable fashion. In fact, if Slim and his partner had been less -absorbed in the pleasant operation of satisfying twelve-hour appetites -they might easily have become suspicious at Hal’s insistence. - -The meal ended at last, however, by which time Hal’s watch indicated -ten minutes past six. It had been twelve minutes before five when he -had stood at the window and seen that dark form speed away down the -lake. Of course, Sheriff Collins couldn’t by any possibility reach the -scene until well after the robbers had gone on, but there was snow on -the ground now and it ought not to be hard to trail them. There was no -telling how long it would take Joe to reach North Pemberton, but, with -luck―― - -A low ejaculation from Bert, across the table, aroused him from his -conjectures and he looked up into the muzzle of a revolver in the hands -of the big man. He felt much relieved when the muzzle turned to the -right and covered the disturbed Bert again. The big man was talking. - -“Sorry to trouble a couple of decent guys like you fellows,” said the -spokesman in gruff apology, “but Slim and me are a little short of -the ready. Get me? And we could do with a couple of coats, too, and -maybe a couple of pairs of shoes if you happened to have any to fit. -Don’t bother to move, friends. Just sit easy and Slim’ll take up the -contribution. If you did happen to move you’d be mighty sorry for it, -believe me!” - -There was such a grim tone in the last utterance that neither Hal nor -Bert doubted the truth of its assertion. They remained absolutely -motionless while Slim’s fingers explored pockets and, afterwards, -rummaged bags and all likely places of concealment. The net result was -some eighteen dollars in coin and three return tickets to Central City. -Hal hoped that the latter would be rejected, but not so. The big fellow -seemed very pleased with them. Then there was a thorough examination -of the boys’ wardrobes and Slim and his companion took a fancy to some -underwear, two pairs of shoes――though Hal doubted they’d fit――Bert’s -and Hal’s mackinaws and four pair of woolen hose. Hal hoped that the -men would prolong their visit to change into their new clothes, but -they didn’t. They put the mackinaws on, to be sure, but the rest of the -plunder they took with them, or started to. That they didn’t was only -because just at the moment they were ready to depart the door opened -most unexpectedly and a burly, red-faced man who chewed an unlighted -cigar said pleasantly: - -“Stick ’em up, and stick ’em up quick!” - -It was somewhere about midnight that night when Camp Resthere settled -down to normalcy. The three boys had then been in bed for more than -an hour, but that hour had been, like the several hours preceding -it, devoted to excited conversation. Now, at last, the excitement -had abated. They had re-lived the whole experience, discussed and -re-discussed every incident. Bert had told his actions and re-actions, -Hal had explained in full detail his every thought and intention and -Joe had, more briefly sketched his part in the successful affair. -For it certainly had been successful. The boys had recovered their -property, Sheriff Collins had in his keeping the money and bonds stolen -from the now convalescent Mr. Robbins and the robbers were doubtless -by this time safely ensconced in the Pemberton jail. There seemed -absolutely nothing left to discuss or explain, and silence had lasted -for quite four minutes when Hal broke it. - -“Say, Joe,” he observed out of the warm darkness, “you must have made -quick time to North Pemberton. How long did it take you, do you think?” - -“I don’t know,” replied Joe. “It was eleven minutes past five by the -church clock when I went into the hotel down there.” - -“What? Why, you didn’t leave here until twelve minutes of! That makes -it――makes it――er――why, that makes it twenty-three minutes! And it must -be all of five or six miles! Gee, Joe who told you you couldn’t skate?” - -“Maybe your watch and that clock aren’t alike,” offered the somewhat -sleepy voice of Bert. “How many times did you fall down, Joe?” - -There was a moment’s silence. Then Joe answered in tones charged with -incredulity and wonder; “Not once!” - -“There!” exclaimed Hal triumphantly. “What did I tell you? Didn’t I say -you could skate if you didn’t――didn’t _try_?” - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -ALONZO JONES SPEAKS - - -When they were back at school Joe proceeded enthusiastically with his -skating education. Fortunately there was cold weather from New Year’s -Day on and plenty of hard ice. Confidence begets confidence, and Joe -progressed, but he would never have thought of trying for hockey if -Hal hadn’t suggested it. Hal was on the school team, and so was Bert -Madden, and although Bert was rather less insistent than Hal, between -them they finally persuaded Joe to try for the position of goal tend -with the second team. Joe won the position after a bare fortnight of -competition with Mac Torrey. In February he ousted Hendricks from in -front of the first team’s cage, for, although Joe was still far from a -really good skater, he could keep his feet under him remarkably when -defending goal, had an almost miraculous ability to judge shots and -stop them and could, and did, fight like a wildcat when his net was -assailed. In the first game against Munson he did his share toward -keeping the score as low as it was, and, although Holman’s returned to -Warrensburg defeated, it was generally acknowledged that Munson’s 14 -points might well have been 20 had a less able goal tend than Joe been -on the job. And the final Munson contest found Joe working even better -under more trying circumstances. Joe, though, was not the real hero of -that strange game. The real hero was――but let Alonzo Jones speak. - - * * * * * - -To be quite frank, I was not pleased when, on returning to Holman’s in -September, I found that faculty had put Pender in with me in Number -19 Puffer. Arthur Pugsby and I had arranged, as we believed, for Pug -to move down from 32, where he wasn’t quite contented for the reason -that the fellow he roomed with, Pete Swanson, wasn’t at all Pug’s -sort. Swanson was absolutely all right, you understand, but he and Pug -had very little in common, Swanson being rather a sporting chap and -Pug caring for the scholarly side of life. Pug and I were extremely -sympathetic, sharing many enthusiasms in common, such as Shelley and -Keats and Walter Pater; also chess and anagrams. We even had similar -tastes in food and drink, both being very fond of pastry and both -preferring grape nuts to chopped walnuts on our sundaes. So, of course, -we were both disappointed when we found that our plan had fallen -through, and that Pug had to remain with an alien spirit like Swanson -and that I was doomed to companionship with a stranger, which, of -course, Pender then was. But life is filled with disappointments which, -however, may frequently be made less poignant by a cheerful fortitude. - -My new roommate’s full name was Lamar Scott Pender, and he came from -Maristown, Kentucky, where he had been attending a small school called, -I believe, the Kentucky Academic Institute. I remember his saying that -they had but twenty-eight pupils and thinking that its name was utterly -disproportionate to its importance. In age he was my senior by a year, -being sixteen and two months, but Pug always maintained that I would -impress persons as being older than Pender. I suppose that was because -I had always viewed life rather more seriously than most fellows do. I -think that gives one an appearance of being older than one really is, -don’t you? Pender was much of a gentleman, both in looks and behavior. -I had always supposed that southern fellows were dark, but Pender -wasn’t. He had sort of chestnut colored hair and a rather fair skin and -blue eyes. He explained this by not being born very far south, but I -don’t believe he was right about that. He had a taste for athletics, -which I had not, but he was not by any means the addict that some -fellows were; Swanson for instance. He tried football that fall, but -didn’t succeed very well, being dropped from the second team about the -last of October. He took his rejection very cheerfully and joined the -cross-country squad, and, I believe, did rather well in two or three -runs that were held before Christmas vacation. - -He entered in my class, upper middle, but he had to work pretty hard -to keep up. He confessed that Holman’s was quite a different school -from the one he had been attending. I think he would have made better -progress had he taken his studies more seriously, but he had what might -be called a frivolous propensity and was always looking for fun. We -got on very well together after we had become really acquainted, which -was probably about the middle of October. Until that time I think both -Pug and I sort of held him under observation, as you might put it. -Friendship is very sacred and one should be careful in the awarding -of it. I don’t think that Pender realized that we were doubtful about -him. If he did he never let on. But he was like that. I mean, he -never looked very deeply below the surface of things. He saw only the -apparent. Lots of times when Pug and I would go off together without -inviting him to come along he seemed not to notice it at all, and -acted just as if he didn’t care. Even after we had accepted him he -never became really one of us. By that I mean that our tastes and his -were dissimilar and that he never came to care for the finer things -of life, like Literature and the Fine Arts and Classical Music and -Philosophical Thought. He was always an outsider, but Pug and I got -so we were quite fond of him, being sorry for him at the same time on -account of his limitations. - -Others accepted him almost at once, but they were the casual sort; -fellows who went in for athletics or sang on the Glee Club or just -idled their time away in the pursuit of pleasure. Both Pug and I could -see that Triangle and P. K. D. began to rush him in November, and if -you happen to know those societies you’ll realize that Pender was -rather superficial. Neither of us would ever have considered them. -Although the fact is immaterial to this narrative, Pender went into -Triangle in February, and as that was after the second hockey game with -Munson, and as P. K. D. generally got most of the athletic heroes, -there was some surprise. But I am far in advance of my story, and will -now return to an evening soon after the first of December and proceed -in chronological order. - -Pug and I were playing chess when Lamar came in and, as was his -lamentable habit, tossed his cap on the table so that the snowflakes -on it were sprinkled all over the chessboard. I ought, perhaps, to say -that by this time he was almost always called “Lamy”, but both Pug and -I preferred to address him as Lamar. I remonstrated with him for his -carelessness and he laughed and said “Sorry, Jonesy,” and fell into a -chair. While my name is, as I think I have neglected to state, Alonzo -Jones, I have always objected to being called “Jonesy”, and I had told -Lamar so frequently but without result. “Jonesy,” he went on, “have you -got any skates?” I shook my head. “You, Pug?” he asked next. Pug also -shook his head, scowling at the interruption, the game then being at an -interesting and critical stage. Lamar sighed and drummed annoyingly on -the table with his fingers. “Well, you know, I’ve got to have a pair, -you fellows, and I’m stony broke. After Christmas――” - -“Please desist,” I said. “We really can’t put our minds on this when -you’re talking.” - -Lamar grinned and started to whistle softly. After a minute Pug said: -“You win, Lon. Care to try another?” I was about to say yes when Lamar -jumped up and lifted the board from between us and tossed it on my bed. - -“You really mustn’t,” he said. “You fellows will overwork your brains. -Besides, I want to talk.” - -Pug was quite sharp with him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He began -talking about hockey. It seemed that there had been a call for hockey -candidates and he had decided to report the next day. “Of course,” he -explained, “there won’t be anything but gymnasium work until after the -holidays, and I don’t suppose I can wear skates in the gym, but just -the same I’d feel a lot better if I had a pair of the things. It might -help me to get the atmosphere, eh?” - -I said I didn’t see the necessity, and asked him if he had played much -hockey. - -“Hockey?” he laughed. “I don’t even know what it’s like! All I do know -is that you play it on ice, wearing skates and waving a sort of golf -club at a ball.” - -“Puck,” corrected Pug, still haughty. - -“Come again?” - -“I said ‘puck,’” replied Pug. “You don’t use a ball, but a hard rubber -disk called a ‘puck.’” - -“Oh, I see. Much obliged, Pug. You whack it through a sort of goal, eh?” - -“Into a net, to be more exact. Do you skate well?” - -Lamar laughed again. “About the way a hen swims,” he said. - -“Then your chance of making the hockey team will be small,” answered -Pug, with a good deal of satisfaction, I thought. - -“Oh, I’ll learn skating. I’ve tried it once or twice. I reckon it’s not -so hard, eh?” - -Pug smiled ironically. “Possibly it will come easy――to you,” he said. - -“Hope so. Anyway, I’m going to have a stab at it. You don’t happen to -know where I can borrow some skates, then?” - -We didn’t, and Lamar went on talking about hockey until Pug gathered -up the chessmen and went off. When he had gone Lamar grinned at -me and said: “Corking chap, Pug. So sympathetic.” Then he got his -crook-handled umbrella out of the closet and began pushing my glass -paper weight about the floor with it, making his feet go as if he was -skating, and upset the waste basket and a chair and got the rug all -rumpled up. - -A couple of days later I asked him how he was getting on with hockey, -and he said. “Fine!” He said the candidates hadn’t got the sticks -yet; that they were just doing calisthenics. After that he reported -progress every day, but we didn’t pay much attention to him, because -if we did he would never stop, and neither Pug nor I was interested -in hockey. But afterwards I learned that Lamar used to spend hours on -the gymnasium floor, outside of practice periods, shooting a puck at -a couple of Indian clubs set up to make a goal. There wasn’t any ice -before Christmas to speak of, and so the rinks weren’t even flooded. - -When Lamar came back after recess he brought a fine pair of hockey -skates which his uncle had given him. I said it was funny that his -uncle should have known that he wanted skates, but Lamar said it -wasn’t funny at all because he had written to him a couple of weeks -ahead and told him. I think it was about the tenth of January before -the weather got cold enough to make skating possible, but after that -the ice stayed right along until the first week in March. Several -times Lamar wanted Pug and me to go over to the rink and see practice, -but we thought it would be pretty cold work, standing around there in -the snow, and we didn’t go until, along in February, there was a mild -Saturday and a lot of talk about a game between our team and Warwick -Academy. So Pug and I, deciding that some outdoor exercise might be -beneficial to us, went over and looked on. We hadn’t intended remaining -long, for Pug is subject to colds and I am likely to have chilblains -if I stay outdoors much in winter, but as it happened we stayed right -through to the end. I was quite surprised to discover that the game -could be so interesting, even exciting, from the spectator’s viewpoint, -and I fancy Pug was, too. Lamar, who was sitting with a number of other -substitutes on a bench, wrapped in a blanket, saw us and came across -and explained some of the subtleties of the game. I asked him if he was -going to play and he said no, not unless all the others were killed. - -Warwick didn’t do very well in the first period of play, only scoring -four points to Holman’s seven, but in the next half the visiting team -played harder and before long had tied the score at eight all. Our -fellows seemed able to skate better than Warwick, but the latter showed -more accuracy in putting the disk into the net. Toward the last of the -contest Pug and I got quite enthusiastic and frequently joined our -voices to the cheers that arose for the Holman’s players. The game was -very close at the end, each side alternating in the advantage, and some -of the players on both sides played very roughly. It was not at all -uncommon to see one player upset another, apparently by intention, and -on more than one occasion as many as three fellows would be lying on -the ice together. I marvelled that the referee did not penalize such -rough behavior, but on comparatively few occasions did he mete out -punishment. When there was but a minute or so to play Warwick shot two -goals in succession and led, 15 to 13. Then Madden, who was one of our -best players, got the puck away from the enemy behind their goal and -took it unaided the full length of the rink and sent it between the -feet of the fellow who was on guard at the net. It seemed to me that -Madden was guilty of questionable tactics when he pretended to pass the -disk to MacLean just before he reached the Warwick goal. That deceived -the goal tender, I judged, into shifting his position to the left and -made Madden’s shot possible. Lamar, however, declared later that that -was part of the game. Anyway, while it gave our side another tally, it -did not lead to winning the contest, and I could not help but feeling, -in spite of Lamar’s statement, that poetic justice had been done. I -pointed this out to Pug on the way back to Puffer, but Pug was very -disappointed because Holman’s had not won the game, and told me between -sneezes that I was deficient in patriotism. Pug had a very bad cold for -several days following his exposure and so we did not attend another -hockey game for almost a fortnight. - -That Saturday night Lamar was very full of the game and I was quite -patient with him and allowed him to talk about it as much as he liked. -He told me why our side had not won. It seemed that much of the blame -lay with the referee, who had never failed to note transgressions of -the rules by Holman’s players but had invariably been blind to similar -lapses on the part of the enemy. It seemed, also, that the referee had -been far too strict in the matter of “off-side.” Lamar explained to me -what “off-side” meant, but it was never very clear in my mind. I asked -him what game he expected to play in and he shook his head and said -glumly that he guessed he’d never get in any of them. - -“You see, Jonesy,” he went on, “the trouble with me is that I’m no -skater. Oh, I can keep on my feet and get over the ice after a -fashion, but I’m not in the same class with MacLean and Madden and -Norwin and half a dozen others. Those sharks can speed up to ninety -miles an hour, turn around on a dime and stop like a .22 short hitting -a dreadnaught. I can shoot, Jonesy, if I do say it as shouldn’t. Even -MacLean says that. I can lift the old rubber in from any angle. When it -comes to skating, though, I――well, I’m just not there.” - -“With practice,” I began. - -“Oh, sure, but where do I practice? The only ice within four miles is -the rink. Besides, what I need is about three years of it! Down in -Kentucky we don’t have much good skating, and, anyway, there isn’t -any ice around where I live. I thought it was easy, but it isn’t. -I’d give――gee, I’d give anything ’most to be able to skate like Hop -MacLean!” - -“Still, if you can shoot the――the puck so well――” - -“That doesn’t get me anything,” he answered gloomily. “You can’t shoot -unless you’re on the ice, and they won’t let me on, except to practice. -Hop says that when they change the hockey rules so as to let you play -the puck sitting down or spinning on your head I’ll be one of the -finest players in captivity. But, he says, until they do I’m not much -use. If he wasn’t such a corking chap he’d have dropped me weeks ago. I -reckon I could play goal, but that fellow Kenton has that cinched.” - -“Too bad,” I said, “but possibly next year――” - -“Sure, but it’s this year I’m worrying about. I got canned as a -football player, I never could play baseball, and so, if I don’t get my -letter at hockey I reckon I’m dished.” - -“You did very well, I understand at cross-country running,” I suggested. - -“Fair, for a new hand, but you don’t get your letter that way. Of -course, I may manage to get on the track team as a distance runner, but -I hate to depend on it.” - -“Possibly you are setting too great a store on getting your letter,” I -said. “Quite a few fellows get through school without it, and I don’t -believe the fact prevents them from――” - -“Bunk,” said Lamar. “You don’t get it, Jonesy. It’s Uncle Lucius I’m -worrying about.” - -“Is he the uncle who gave you the skates?” I asked. - -“Yes. He’s good for anything in the athletic line. He’s nuts on sports -of any kind. Hunts, fishes, plays polo, rides to hounds. It was he who -sent me here, and he as much as told me that if I didn’t make good this -year I’d have to hustle for myself next. And that means I couldn’t come -back, for dad can’t afford the price.” - -“I must say,” I replied indignantly, “that your Uncle Lucius has most -peculiar ideas!” - -“Maybe, but he has ’em,” said Lamar grimly. “And that’s why it means -something to me to make this hockey team. Or it did mean something: I -reckon I might as well quit hoping.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -ALONZO GOES ON - - -While I had never had any sympathy for fellows who made a fetish of -athletic sports and competitions, I could not help being concerned -for Lamar. Of course it would serve his eccentric uncle right to be -disappointed, but it did seem too bad to have Lamar miss his senior -year. Pug thought just as I did, and so, taking an interest in Lamar’s -case, I went over to the rink on Tuesday to see the team practice. Pug -couldn’t go, on account of his cold, and he acted rather haughty when I -went away, leaving him with his feet on the radiator and sneezing his -head off. - -I soon saw that Lamar hadn’t exaggerated much when he had said that he -was not a good skater. They had a sort of game between the first team -and the substitutes, and Lamar held a position next in front of Joe -Kenton, who was the goal guardian――and had a hard time of it. He could -skate fairly well, though most ungracefully, until some one got in his -way or collided with him. Then he either fell down at once or staggered -to the side of the rink and fell over the barrier. On one occasion, -when he had got the puck, he started off with it and was doing quite -nicely until one of the other side got in front of him. Lamar tried to -dodge, and I really felt sorry for him because all the fellows on the -ice and all those looking on began to laugh at him like anything. You -see, he lost control of himself entirely and went spinning across the -rink on one skate, with the other pointing toward the sky, his arms -waving and a most horrified expression on his face. He kept right on -going until he struck the barrier and then dived over it into the snow, -head first. - -I will say, however, that when it came to returning the puck down the -rink he was extremely clever, for he could do what very few of the -others could do; he could lift the puck off the ice with a peculiar -movement of his stick and send it quite a distance and very swiftly -through the air. I gathered from remarks about me that a “lifted” puck -was more difficult to stop than one merely slid along on the surface -of the ice. But, of course, when the first team players came down -to the goal where Lamar was he didn’t help very much. He generally -charged into the first player who arrived and they went down together. -I returned to Puffer before the game was ended, convinced that Lamar -would never get the much coveted letter through playing hockey! - -The next Saturday the team went to Munson to play Munson Academy, -Holman’s chief athletic rival, and was beaten by 14 goals to 11. Of -course Lamar didn’t play, although he was taken along. I heard all -about the game from him, and I gathered that our team had been defeated -because of poor shooting. Holman’s it seemed, had “skated rings around -the other team” but had missed many more goals than it had made. I -believe, too, that the referee had favored the enemy somewhat, and I -wondered why it was that the officials so frequently erred in that -particular. I mentioned the matter to Lamar, but he only said “Humph!” - -After that there were several other games, most of which our team won. -Pug and I saw all of them, although on several occasions the weather -was extremely cold and I frequently suffered with chilblains as a -result of the exposure to the elements. Lamar played in some of the -contests, usually toward the last and always when our side was safely -in the lead. He had improved quite a good deal, but was still far from -perfect. He fell down less frequently and was even able to dodge about -fairly well without losing control of the puck. He also, on several -occasions, made some remarkably good goals, sending the disk into the -net at about the height of the goal man’s knees, which seemed to worry -the latter a good deal. Then March arrived and the weather moderated -somewhat, and finally only the last Munson game remained to be -played. We played but two games with Munson, one at Munson and one at -Warrensburg, the team winning most goals in the two contests becoming -the victor. It was hoped that, as Munson was but three goals ahead now, -and as our team would have some slight advantage owing to playing on -its own rink, we could win the championship. Lamar was very certain -that we could win, and told Pug and me why by the hour. Or he did when -we allowed him to. Lamar was almost hopeful of getting his letter, -after all, for MacLean, who was our captain, had told him that if -Holman’s “had the game on ice” at the end he would put Lamar in for a -few minutes. I asked if they were thinking of playing the game anywhere -but on the ice, and Lamar explained that the expression he had used -signified having the game safe. I told him I considered the expression -extremely misleading, but he paid no attention, being very excited -about the morrow’s game. - -When we awoke the next day, though, it looked as if there would be -no game, for the weather had grown very mild over night, the sun was -shining warmly and water was running or dripping everywhere. Lamar -gave one horrified look from the window and, throwing a few clothes -on, hastened to the rink. When he returned he was much upset. The ice, -he said, was melting fast and there was already a film of water over -it. The game was scheduled for three o’clock, and if the ice kept on -melting there wouldn’t be any left by that time, and without ice there -could be no game, and if there was no game――Lamar choked up and could -get no further. I really felt awfully sorry for him, even if it was -perfectly absurd to magnify a mere contest of physical force and skill -to such proportions. - -Fortunately, the sun went under later and, while it was still mild -and muggy, it seemed that there might possibly be enough ice left in -the afternoon to play on. I was very glad, for Lamar’s sake, and so -was Pug. Pug, I fear, had become somewhat obsessed by hockey. I had -found a blue paper-covered book about the game under a pillow on his -window-seat one day, and while he declared that it belonged to Swanson, -I wasn’t fooled. - -About noon MacLean and the others viewed the rink and the manager got -the Munson folks on the wire and told them that the ice wasn’t fit to -play on and that if Munson wanted to postpone the game――but Munson -didn’t. They thought we were trying to avoid playing it, probably, and -said they’d be over as planned and that they guessed a postponement -wouldn’t be wise, because the weather might get worse instead of -better. So the game was played, and Pug and I went. We were rather -late, because Pug had mislaid one of his galoshes, but he found it -finally, under Swanson’s bed, and we got to the rink to find that it -was lined two and three deep all around the boards. We found a place -to squeeze in behind the Holman’s bench, though, and by stretching our -necks we could see fairly well. We were glad afterwards that we hadn’t -got close to the barrier, because every time a player swiped at the -puck or turned short on his skates he sent a shower of slush and water -over the nearer spectators. - -There was a good half-inch of water over the rink, and under the water -the ice was pitted and soft, especially near the barriers, and now and -then the sun would come out for a few minutes and make things worse. -No one except Pug and I wore a coat, I think, and we soon wished we -hadn’t. Of course fast skating was impossible on a surface like that, -and the first period was only about half over when the rink looked as -if it had been flooded with white corn meal and water. When one of the -players went down, which was far more frequently than usual, he got -up wet and dripping; and once when the referee got a skate tangled -with some one else’s and slid about six yards in a sitting position, -laughter was spontaneous and hearty from both sides of the rink. - -Our fellows had already scored twice and Munson once when Pug and I -got there, and there wasn’t any more scoring for quite some time. This -was largely because no one could shoot very well, having to hunt for -the puck in the slush first and then not being able to knock it very -far through the water. Several times one side or the other got the -puck right in front of the other team’s goal, but usually it got lost -and the referee had to blow his whistle and dig it out from somewhere. -It was during one of these confused scrambles that Munson scored her -second goal. It looked to Pug and me as if one of the Munson fellows -had slid the puck in with his skate, and our goal man, Kenton, said so, -too. But the umpire behind the net waved his hand in the air and said -it was all right, and so that tied the score at 2-all. - -It was pretty exciting, and every one was playing as hard as he knew -how, and some one was always tumbling down and water flew everywhere. -There were a good many penalties, too, and once there were but nine -players on the ice, instead of twelve. They didn’t try to do much -real skating toward the last, but just ran about digging the points -of their skates into the soft ice. There was lots of enthusiasm and -cheering, and lots of laughing. Pug was howling about all the time and -dancing around on my feet. I tried to restrain him, but he wouldn’t pay -much attention to me, declaring that I had been shouting, too, which -certainly was a misstatement. When the period was almost over Munson -had a remarkable piece of luck, making two goals, one right after the -other, and the half ended with the score in her favor, 4 to 2. - -The players looked as if they had been in bathing, and MacLean was -dripping water even from the end of his nose. Kenton was the wettest, -of all, though, and said he had bubbles in his ears. I heard him -explaining that the reason Munson had made those two last goals was -because his eyes were so full of water he couldn’t see through them. -During the intermission MacLean and Madden and the others were trying -to figure out how they could win that game in the next half. They had -to make five goals now to tie the score of the series and six to win; -always supposing they could keep Munson from scoring, too! Norwin -suggested getting a puck made of cork so it would float, and MacLean -told him to shut his face or talk sense. - -“What we need,” said the captain sort of bitterly, “is a couple of guys -who can shoot a goal once in six tries!” - -“Sure,” agreed Norwin, “but I didn’t notice you shooting many!” - -MacLean gave him a haughty look, but he only said: “No, I’m as rotten -as you are, Hal. How would it be if we played a five-man attack next -half? We’ve got to score somehow. If we can get the puck up to their -goal we might get it in. We can’t do it on long shots, that’s sure!” - -So they talked about that, and Pug and I, being right behind them, -couldn’t help hearing them. And while they were still discussing the -matter Pug pulled my sleeve. “Say, Lon,” he said, “why don’t they let -Lamar play? He’s a good shot, isn’t he?” - -“Yes, but he can’t skate, you idiot,” I answered. - -“He wouldn’t need to. Nobody’s doing any skating, Lon. They’re all just -floundering around on their points. I’ll bet that if they put Lamar in -to play――” - -I didn’t hear any more, because just then I leaned down and touched -MacLean on the shoulder, and when he looked up said: “Pardon me, but I -couldn’t help overhearing your conversation, and I’d like very much to -make a suggestion――” - -“All right,” said MacLean, rather rudely, I thought, “make all you -want, kid, but don’t bother me. I’ve got troubles of my own.” - -But I persisted, in spite of his scowls, and when he understood what -I was driving at he acted quite differently. Of course he made the -absurd objection that Lamar couldn’t skate well enough, but I pointed -out to him that Lamar could skate as well as any of the players had -been skating, and he recognized the wisdom of the suggestion. I must -say, however, that he showed small appreciation, for he never even said -thank you, but turned right away and yelled for Lamar. - -“Lamy,” he said, “can you shoot a few goals if I put you in this half?” - -“Sure,” said Lamar. “You let me in there, Hop, and if I don’t make that -goal tend of theirs think he’s at the Battle of the Marne you won’t owe -me a cent!” - -“I’ll owe you a swift kick, though,” growled MacLean. “All right. You -take Norwin’s place. We’ll manage to feed the puck to you, I guess. Do -your best, Lamy. We’ve got to cop this somehow!” - -They had sort of bailed out the rink with brooms and snow shovels and -buckets, and when the second half began you could see the ice in most -places. Lamar was in Norwin’s place and Norwin was playing in front -of the goal. For two or three minutes Munson kept the puck and tried -four or five shots before our fellows got it away from her. None of -the shots went very near our net, though. After that MacLean got away -and pushed the puck up the rink, with the other forwards lined across -the ice and Lamar a few feet behind. MacLean tried to pass to Madden, -but a Munson fellow hooked the disk away. Then Lamar bumped hard into -the Munson player and they both sat down and slid, and Brill got the -puck back and every one yelled “_Shoot!_ _Shoot!_” But Brill passed -back to Madden and Madden took the disk in closer, and about that time -every one gathered around and sticks pushed and whacked and I couldn’t -see the puck at all. The Munson goal man was dodging back and forth, -kicking his feet and whanging away with his stick, and his eyes were -fairly bulging out of his head. And then, somehow, the puck got hit -back up the rink and no one saw it for an instant except Lamar, who had -got to his feet again. Lamar dug the points of his skates and raced up -to it and, before any of the Munson fellows could reach him, had got -the blade of his stick under that puck and made a quick motion with his -wrists and there was a streak of water through the air and the umpire -behind the goal shouted and threw his hand up! - -Well, Pug and I yelled like mad, and so did every one else; every -one, of course, except the fifty or sixty Munson fellows who had come -along with their team. That made the score 6 to 5. Munson got the puck -from the center, but couldn’t keep it, and after a minute Madden slid -it across to Brill and Brill started in with it. Then, when a Munson -fellow threatened him, pushed it behind him, and that was Lamar’s -chance. He was almost in the middle of the rink, but he was alone, -and before any one could interfere he had picked that disk out of the -slush and sent it, knee high toward the goal. Half a dozen fellows -looked to be in the way and some of them tried hard to stop it, but -it got by them all and landed in the corner of the net, while the goal -man, who had tried to stop it, too, picked himself up and patted the -water from the seat of his shorts. - -Well, there wouldn’t be any use in trying to tell about the rest of -the game in detail. From 6-all the score went to 8――6 in our favor, -Lamar shooting all the goals. Then, just for variety, MacLean made one -himself, though it looked pretty lucky to me, and after that Munson -made one. But that was the last of her scoring. Lamar shot another from -near the barrier that hit the goal man’s stick and bounced into the -goal, and Munson lost heart. Of course her players just stuck around -Lamar to keep him from shooting, but that didn’t work very well, for he -generally got away from them, or, if he didn’t MacLean or one of the -others shot. Toward the last of it they just sort of massed themselves -in front of their goal and tried to hide it. Even so, Lamar got a -couple through, and several more damaged the defenders considerably, -one fellow stopping the puck unintentionally with his chin. It seemed -that Lamar couldn’t miss, and, because his shots were always off the -ice, they were hard to stop, and so, when the final whistle sounded, -the score was 18 to 7 and Lamar was credited with nine of the eighteen! -That gave us the series by eight points, and the championship, and -there was a lot more cheering, especially for Lamar, and Pug and I went -back to Puffer. - -I felt quite a lot of satisfaction because my suggestion to put Lamar -into the game had, beyond the shadow of a doubt, accomplished the -victory for our team, and I mentioned the fact to Pug. Pug, though, was -rather nasty, claiming that the original idea had been his. However, I -made short work of that ridiculous contention, the more easily since -Pug, having yelled all through the contest and got his feet wet in -spite of his galoshes, wasn’t able to speak above a whisper. I warned -him that he would have a sore throat to-morrow, but he scowled at me. - -“I don’t care,” he said hoarsely. “I don’t care if I do! We won the -championship! And――and, by golly, next year I’m going to play hockey -myself!” - -Which shows how even the briefest contact with athletic affairs may -corrupt one. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -GINGER BURKE - - -“Hello!” - -“Babe” Linder, the big catcher of the Holman’s School nine, turned in -the operation of pulling on his huge mitt and observed the speaker with -mild interest. “Hello, son,” he returned gravely. “Is it natural or did -science achieve that brilliant result?” - -“What yer mean?” asked the other, earnest and anxious. - -“Your hair, son. How did you get it that way?” - -“It’s always been red,” answered the smaller youth, unoffended, but -dropping his steady gaze a moment while he dug in the dirt in front of -the bench with one scuffed shoe. - -“You can’t beat Nature, can you?” sighed Babe. - -The boy looked doubtful, but after a moment of hesitation gave a nod -of agreement. Three or four other members of the team came around -the corner of the stand, followed by the coach, Gus Cousins, and, -subsequently, by Cicero Brutus Robinson, pushing a wheelbarrow -containing base sacks, bat bag, protector, mask and the daily -paraphernalia of practice. Cicero, who was extremely black, very squat -and interestingly bandy-legged, deposited his vehicle at the end of -the bench and, wiping his glittering ebony forehead with the sleeve -of a faded blue shirt, lifted the base sacks from the wheelbarrow and -ambled leisurely away with them. A smallish, attenuated boy who had -entered on Cicero’s heels, dragged the bat bag forth and unstrapped -it. More players arrived, accompanied by a studious looking senior in -street attire who clutched a large score-book in one hand and a box of -balls in the other. Babe Linder gave greetings to the newcomers and, -thudding the big mitten approvingly, even affectionately, moved along -the bench. Unnoted by him, the red-haired youth kept close beside him. -Babe selected a discolored baseball from among the dozen in the bottom -of a fiber bucket and―― - -“Say!” - -Babe looked down. “Son,” he asked gently, “do I owe you money, or what?” - -“No, sir.” Two deep blue eyes looked appealingly up from a tanned and -freckled face. “Say, do you want a bat boy?” - -“A bat boy? No. I couldn’t use one.” - -“I mean the team, sir.” - -“Oh! Why, we’ve got one, son. That’s he over there.” - -“Yeah, I seen him.” There was much contempt in the boy’s tone. “He -ain’t no good, sir.” - -“Eh? Well, confidentially, I agree with you, but there he is, what?” -Dave Cochran, dean of the pitching staff, joined them and Babe -addressed him gravely. “This young gentleman, Davy, seeks a position on -the team.” - -Dave studied the boy smilingly. “Well, we sure do need a catcher,” he -said. “Can you catch, kid?” - -The boy nodded, digging his toe again. “Yeah, but he’s just kiddin’, -Mister. I want to be your bat boy.” - -“Oh, that’s it? Well, you’re about a month late. We already have young -Cecil acting in that capacity.” - -“Is that his name, honest?” inquired the boy with what might be called -hopeful disgust. - -“No, not honest, but that’s what he’s called,” replied Babe. “After -all, what’s in a name? And, speaking of names, son, what is yours?” - -“Gi――――” He swallowed and started fresh. “Robert Burke.” - -“Fine! And what do they call you?” asked Dave. - -“Ginger.” The boy smiled for the first time, a smile that lighted up -his homely countenance and won both members of his audience instantly. - -“Son,” said Babe, “if this was my outfit I’d engage you like a shot, -but it isn’t. You see, we’ve got a bat boy――” - -“I can lick him easy,” remarked Ginger Burke conversationally. Then he -added, hopefully: “If that guy wasn’t around could I have his job?” - -Babe and Dave exchanged amused glances. “Ginger,” said Babe, “we’d hate -to have anything happen to Cecil, but it’s my private hunch that――” -Babe coughed deprecatingly――“that if――er――Cecil was _non est_, so to -speak, your chance of filling his shoes would be excellent. Am I right, -Dave?” - -Dave grinned as he reached for the ball that Babe was juggling. “Them’s -my sentiments, Mr. Linder. Come on and let me warm up the old wing.” - -With none challenging him, Ginger climbed into the stand and became -an interested observer of what followed. Ever and anon his glance -strayed from Babe or Dave to the person of Cecil. That Cecil was not -the thin youth’s correct name bothered Ginger not at all. He felt that -it should have been his name even if it wasn’t, and he disapproved of -it thoroughly, just as he disapproved of the bat boy’s lack of interest -in his professional duties and his laggard movements when he retrieved -a ball. “He’s a dumb-bell,” was Ginger’s verdict. “He ain’t got no -license around here, that kid!” As a matter of fact, Cecil was to all -appearances quite as old as Ginger, and fully as tall, even if, as -happened, he was built on a more niggardly style, and therefor the use -of the term “kid” by Ginger was unconscious swank. - -Afternoon practice ended at last and the field emptied, the players -walking back across the football field and past the tennis courts to -the big gymnasium whose long windows were crimson in the light of the -sinking sun. To the gymnasium also meandered Cicero Brutus Robinson, -pushing his wheelbarrow, and Coach Cousins and Manager Naylor, the -latter pair in earnest converse. Thither, also, strolled the few -students who had by ones and twos joined Ginger Burke in the stand -during the progress of the afternoon’s proceedings. Of all those at the -field two alone turned townwards at the last. These were Cecil――whose -real name, by the way, happened to be William James Conners――and Ginger -Burke. They did not go together. Indeed, a full half block separated -them on their journey to Warrensburg, and to an observer it might -have appeared that that distance was being intentionally maintained -by the latter of the two, who was Ginger. Observers, however, were -few, for the half mile between school campus and town was at that hour -practically deserted, and the few, their thoughts doubtless fixed on -the evening meal, paid small heed to the two youths, nor guessed that -the first was cast in the rôle of Vanquished and the last in the rôle -of Victor in an impending drama. At the border of town Cecil turned to -the left. So did Ginger. - -The next afternoon when Babe swung around the corner of the stand, -pulling on his mitten, and turned toward the bucket of practice balls a -voice arrested him. - -“Here y’are!” - -Babe glimpsed something grayish arching toward him and instinctively -shot out his mitt. Such attention on the part of Cecil was -unprecedented, and Babe gazed in mild astonishment. It was, however, -not Cecil but Ginger who met that gaze, Ginger gravely earnest, anxious -to anticipate the big catcher’s next desire. - -“Huh,” said Babe. “Where’s Cecil?” - -“He ain’t coming,” replied Ginger. “He’s resigned.” - -“Resigned, eh? Which hospital is he in, son?” - -Ginger disregarded the question. “Who’s the feller that hires the bat -boys?” he asked. - -“Son, are you laboring under the mistaken impression that this job -brings in real money?” asked Babe. - -“No, sir, I ain’t looking for any money, but it seems like if the boss -would say it was all right for me to be――” - -“I get you. Come along. Oh, Bert! Meet my particular friend, Ginger -Burke, Bert. Ginger’s the new bat boy. The former incumbent has been -forced to resign. Ill health, I believe.” - -“Why, I didn’t know that,” said Bert Naylor, puzzled. “Well, it’s all -right, I suppose. You say you know this kid, Babe? Well――” The manager -observed Ginger sternly through his glasses. “We don’t pay anything, -you know. If you want to――to――if you want the place, all right, but -we――er――we don’t pay anything.” - -“Now you’re all right,” said Babe as Naylor hurried off. “You’re -official bat boy, son, with the inestimable privilege of writing ‘B. -B.’ after your name. I would like to know, though, how you induced -Cecil to resign. Did you crown him with a brick, or just――ah――” Babe -delivered an imaginary upper-cut against an imaginary adversary. But -Ginger only shook his head. - -“There wasn’t no trouble,” he said evasively. “I――I just talked to him.” - -Babe viewed him doubtfully. “Well, all right, son, if you prefer not -to recall the sanguinary details. On your job now. Watch the balls, -see that the water bucket’s filled, get your bats out――” Babe stopped -for the reason that a swift survey showed the bats neatly arranged on -the grass and the water bucket brimming. “All right,” he ended flatly. -“Keep your eyes peeled.” - -Ginger never confided about Cecil, but the story reached Babe and the -rest eventually by way of Cicero Brutus Robinson, who, it appeared, -had learned it from the deposed Cecil. Ginger had accosted Cecil a -block short of the latter’s domicile and had frankly informed him that -he, Ginger, coveted the position of bat boy for the school baseball -team. “You,” said Ginger, though possibly in not these exact words, -“are not equal to the demands of such an exacting employment. It is -evident to me that your heart is not in your work. Now I’ll tell -you what I’ll do, kid. I’ll match you for it.” Cecil, however, had -indignantly declined this offer; had, indeed, heaped derision on -Ginger and his ambition. Thereupon Ginger, retaining his placidity, -had made a second offer. “All right, kid, I’ll pay you for it. I’ll -give you fifty cents, twenty-five cents right now and twenty-five -cents next week.” Cecil had considered this offer more tolerantly, but -had countered with a proposal of one dollar in lieu of the sum named. -Ginger had firmly refused to pay a dollar and had so reached his third -and final proposition. “Nothing doin’,” Ginger had replied, “but――” -and one fancies a new enthusiasm in his tones――“but I’ll fight you for -it, kid!” Cecil had regarded Ginger dubiously as the latter slipped -out of his jacket, had cast anxious glances up and down the deserted, -darkening street and had seen the wise course. “Give me the quarter,” -said Cecil. - -As Official Bat Boy and Mascot of the Holman School Baseball Team, -Ginger made good right from the start. He was, in fact, a revelation. -None of the players had before realized just how useful a bat boy could -really be when he set his mind on it. Ginger was efficiency itself. The -water pail was always full, the paper drinking cups never gave out, -the balls no longer got lost merely by falling outside the field, bats -always reposed in orderly precision before the bench and never a player -had to bend his august back to pick one up. Ginger invariably knew -which one――or two――each batsman favored and was ready with it, or them, -on the second. He was always cheerful, always the optimist, always -hopeful to the last bitter moment of defeat. When a hit meant a run and -a run meant a tied score or a victory Ginger believed, or professed to, -that the hit was forthcoming. Even if it was the weakest batter, Ginger -gave him his favorite bat with a smile of confidence and a low word of -encouragement that seldom failed to help. - -Ginger possessed, too, a remarkable acumen in the matter of baseball -practical and baseball theoretical, and although he almost never -volunteered advice, his wisdom, the wisdom of an earnest student of -the game, was always on tap. When it came to strategy Ginger was -positively uncanny, having, it seemed, acquired in his thirteen years -of existence a thorough understanding of the workings of the human -mind. You are not to suppose that the games were run to Ginger’s -directions, of course, for, as a matter of fact, his advice was seldom -called for; yet during the six weeks that followed his arrival there -occurred more than one occasion when Gus Cousins, watching a contest -with Ginger beside him on the bench, discussed affairs as man with man -and, unconsciously accepting Ginger’s ideas as his own, acted on them. - -It was to Babe Linder that Ginger especially attached himself. He -served every man on the squad faithfully, liked them all and was liked -in return, but Babe was his hero, and where Babe was, there, too, as -near as might be, was Ginger. Ginger fairly adopted the big catcher -and guarded his welfare with a care that was almost maternal. Babe -never had to strap on his leg-guards nowadays, for Ginger was always -waiting to perform that service. Then Ginger handed him his protector -and mask and watched his progress to the plate with anxious pride. When -Babe came back to the bench there was Ginger with his old sweater held -out to him. Of course all this aroused the other members to laughter, -and they ragged Babe about it; but they were careful not to do it -when Ginger was about. Every one liked Ginger whole-heartedly, from -the coach down to young Smithers, who sat day after day on the bench -and waited for something to happen to “Mac” Torrey so that he might -at last play right field! After practice or a game Ginger would walk -worshipfully at Babe’s side back to Routledge Hall. At the entrance it -was always: - -“Come on up, Ginger.” - -“Naw, I guess not.” - -“Well, night, son.” - -“Night, Babe.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -ONE ALL - - -Ginger called all and sundry by their first names; all, that is, save -Gus Cousins and Manager Naylor. Gus was “Mister Coach” and Naylor was -just “Mister.” There was no hint of disrespect in Ginger’s address, -and the word “sir” was seldom absent. It was on one of those homeward -walks after a Friday practice that Babe learned about all there was -to be learned of his admirer. Ginger lived with his father, who was a -mason, in a two-room tenement. His mother had died when he was a baby. -There had been a small sister once, but she, too, had died. Ginger went -to high school and didn’t mind studying――much. When he grew up he was -going to be a baseball player until he had made enough money to buy a -team of his own. He had played ball since he was seven, or maybe eight, -on the back lots or down by the railroad yards. He’d had a team of his -own last summer and had licked about every other team of its age in the -neighborhood. He pitched sometimes, but generally he played second -base or shortstop. Maybe he would get a nine together again this -summer, but he wanted to learn all the baseball he could, which was why -he had sought the privilege of toiling without remuneration for the -school team. Once he had saved up some money and gone to the city and -seen a Big League game, but it hadn’t been much of a game, after all: -“them fellows pulled a lot of bone-head plays that day!” - -To all appearances Ginger had attached himself to a losing cause when -he had thrown in his lot with the Holman’s team. Since early April the -Light Green had won ten and lost seven; not a very good performance -for the nine whose two straight over Munson Academy last spring had -completed a record of fourteen victories out of eighteen contests. -Holman’s though, had lost seriously by graduation and only Dave, Babe, -Captain Hal Norwin, Joe Kenton and “Mac” Torrey remained of those who -had played against Munson. It was a good fielding team, but batting was -a lost art to it and the pitching staff was a weak support. For one of -Holman’s four twirlers to go nine innings was exceptional; usually it -took three to land a victory. Dave, a left-hander, was having tragic -lapses from his last year’s cunning. Bellows, slow-ball artist, had -yet to survive a seventh inning. Jones, last year’s freshman southpaw, -was streaky and explosive. Meadows, more nerve than experience, was -as yet but a promising cub. Coach Cousins, though, wasn’t discouraged, -and still hoped to capture the Munson series; and if the Light Green -triumphed over the Blue-and-Gold all that had gone before was as -nothing. To such a situation, then, did Ginger Burke attach himself. - -Two days after Ginger’s advent Holman’s was beaten once more, this -time by Milton. Then, the following Wednesday, she faced the Benson -Athletics, a hard-hitting aggregation of mill employees. Tom Meadows -lasted an inning and a half, after which Dave Cochran carried the game -through to a 4 to 2 victory. That victory seemed to turn the tide for -the Light Green. Holman’s entered on a winning streak as startling as -it was gratifying. Bordentown, State Agricultural, Ogden and Louisburg -were defeated; after which Holman’s journeyed to Wayne City and won a -hard contest from Deacon College. Three days later another pilgrimage -resulted less satisfactorily, for the Light Green fell before the -superior batting prowess of Jamesville and her winning streak was -broken. But the next Wednesday found her on the long end of a 9 to 3 -score against St. John’s, which, since St. John’s had beaten her badly -earlier in the season, was a gratifying and encouraging event. The next -game also went Holman’s way, although eleven innings were required to -convince Townsend that she was beaten. - -It was during the Ogden game that Joe Kenton, second baseman, awaiting -his turn at bat, watched Wentworth’s two-bagger go screeching over -second and observed to the bench at large: “There goes their old ball -game!” Then, when Charlie Prince and Ted Purves had sped across the -rubber, Joe winked at Babe and addressed Ginger, squatting at Babe’s -feet. - -“Ginger,” said Joe, “you sure brought us luck. As a mascot I’ll say -you’re a wonder!” - -Ginger looked back over his shoulder gravely and, after an -infinitesimal pause, replied convincedly: “You guys was sure needing a -mascot when I come!” - -That was as close as any one ever got to making Ginger claim the credit -for the team’s success, but they all had the conviction that modesty -alone held him back, and since baseball players, even school amateurs, -are all leavened with harmless superstition there were plenty among -them who would listen to no argument against the mascot theory. Babe -said loudly and often that it was a great day for the old school when -Ginger came on the scene! By this time the red-haired bat boy was a -school institution, in a manner of speaking. He was as much a part -of the team as――well, almost as much a part as Captain Hal Norwin -himself. He had even attained literary celebrity in the columns of -the school monthly. Holman’s had taken him for her own and was proud -of him; and rendered him the respect due one who, even if you said -it only in jest, had put the school back on the baseball map. Ginger -now appeared appropriately attired at the games. A discarded shirt of -Babe’s, bearing a green H on one breast, had been cut down to fit him, -and from Captain Hal had come the breeches. The latter, so long as -Ginger didn’t bend too far forward, were quite presentable. Ginger also -had a cap and a pair of green stockings, and thus attired, feet widely -spread, arms akimbo, eyes attentively on the game, he presented a -notable appearance. And when, thrusting back his cap――an action induced -by excitement――he revealed that unbelievably red thatch of his the -picture was almost epic! - -June came on the scene with a fine run of blue skies and hot sunshine, -and the Holman’s team went on winning ball games. Of course she lost -now and then. When you came to investigate matters closely you wondered -why she didn’t lose a lot more. The pitchers were doing better, but -not so much better, the batting showed improvement but was still well -under last year’s percentage. Perhaps Fortune was rooting for the Light -Green, or perhaps the team had found faith in itself. Certain it is -that the breaks of the game went often to Holman’s those days, and any -one knows that it’s better to be lucky than rich. - -In the matter of batting, Holman’s was a weak crowd. Outside Captain -Hal Norwin and Ted Purves and Joe Kenton, there wasn’t a dependable -hitter on the team. Sometimes Bud Thomas came across with a needed -wallop, and occasionally little Charlie Prince, demon third baseman, -laid down a nice bunt. But for the rest――why, as Ginger phrased it to -himself, “junk!” They tried hard enough, both at practice and in games, -and they almost wore out a brand-new batting net, but all to very -little purpose. If they had the eye they didn’t have the swing, and -vice versa. There was Babe, for instance. Babe was a corking catcher, -big enough to block off a runner at the plate, quick enough to cover -the whole back-lot on fouls, an unerring shot to second and steady -under almost any provocation to be otherwise. But at the bat he was -Samson shorn. Babe was a slugger, which is to say that he took a long -swing and a hard one and, having connected with the ball, was likely -to smash it out into the cinder piles that intervened between the ball -field and Conyer’s Creek. The cinder piles meant three bases always, -usually four. But, like many other sluggers, Babe was an infrequent -hitter. If pitchers would put the old pill between waist and shoulder, -Babe could show them something, but pitchers had a deplorable way of -sending them over knee-high or working deceptive drops on the big -fellow, and, all in all, as a hitter in the pinches Babe was about as -much use as salt in a ham sandwich: which, again, is Ginger’s phrase -and not mine. - -This troubled Ginger as much, if not more, than it did Babe. Ginger -was a hero worshiper, and Babe was his object of idolatry, and Ginger -wanted him 100 per cent perfect. As it was, 75 was a lot nearer the -mark. And Ginger, or so he was fully persuaded, knew wherein lay Babe’s -weakness. Babe’s bat was too heavy. Other aspiring batsmen might use -one bat to-day and another to-morrow, experimenting in the effort to -find the weapon best suited to them. But not so Babe. Babe was big -and long of arm and powerful, and he craved a bat to match. The one -he used, his own private weapon, was a veritable club of Hercules, -long and stout and appallingly heavy, of the “wagon-tongue” model, of -a dingy gray-black tinge and with the handle wrapped far down with -elastic tape. Babe was somewhat obsessed on the subject of that bat. -He was convinced that it was the only weapon possible in his case, -and convinced that just as soon as Fortune gave him an even break -he would make it talk to the extent of .300 or over. Ginger thought -contrariwise, and the matter was the basis of frequent arguments -between the two. Or, perhaps, arguments is the wrong word, for Babe -never would argue about it. Babe was as stubborn as a mule on the -subject of that bat. - -“Honest, Babe,” Ginger would urge earnestly, “that bat’s too heavy. It -ain’t balanced, either. It makes you swing late. That’s the trouble -with you, Babe. I’ve been watching and I know. You’re late for the ball -most always. Now if you had a lighter bat――” - -“Son, I’ve tried them, I tell you, and――” - -“Two, three years ago!” scoffed Ginger. “Try ’em again, won’t you, -please, sir? Honest I ain’t kiddin’, Babe; I wish you would!” - -“Oh, I’ve got to have something I can feel, Ginger. Gosh, I don’t know -there’s anything in my hands when I pick up one of those toothpicks.” - -“But I ain’t asking you to use one of them real light ones, Babe! Just -try one that’s a little lighter first――” - -Babe laughed good-naturedly and ruffled Ginger’s flaming hair. “Quit -your kidding, son, quit your kidding. Watch the way the old bat soaks -them to-morrow.” - -And to-morrow Ginger, watching Babe’s humiliation, almost wept! - -Ginger never gave up the fight, though, and any one but the good-natured -Babe would have wearied of the importunities and become violent. Ginger -even besought the aid of Gus Cousins, but the coach only sighed and -shrugged. - -“I know, kid. I’ve begged him to try something different fifty times, -but he’s so confounded stubborn you might just as well talk to that -water bucket. He’s too good a catcher to be a good batter, anyway. I -guess even if he swung a lighter bat he’d still miss most of ’em.” - -The week before the first game of the series with Munson, Holman’s had -a slump and lost two contests running. The infield, which had played -clean, snappy ball all spring, went bad and booted half its chances. -Medfield walked off with Saturday’s game, 14 to 2, without making a -hit that wasn’t clearly scratch. Errors did the rest, errors and a -finally disgruntled pitcher. Monday and Tuesday witnessed hard and -unremitting practice, and on Wednesday Holman’s journeyed down state -to Munson and crossed bats with the Blue-and-Gold before a maniacal -assemblage of students and alumni, to say nothing of a brass band, and -lost deservedly. Bellows was knocked from the box in the second inning, -by which time Munson had accumulated four runs, and Lou Jones took his -place. Lou wavered along to the sixth and then began to issue passes. -When he had handed out his fourth in that inning, and Munson’s score -was 5 runs, Dave Cochran replaced him. Dave held the enemy safe for the -rest of the way, but the damage was already done. Holman’s had made a -lone tally in the fourth, and in the first of the ninth she started a -rally when, with one out, Tom Wentworth hit safely for two bases. Joe -Kenton laid down a bunt and was safe on a close decision. Torrey hit to -shortstop and was safe on a fielder’s choice, Tom going out at third. -Bud Thomas hit an easy fly to left that was misjudged and muffed, and, -with bases full, a hit good for two tallies and a home-run tying the -score, Babe advanced determinedly, swinging his big black-handled club. - -Ginger looked on strainedly, and I think he uttered a little earnest -prayer for Babe. But why prolong the suspense? It was over after -five pitched balls. Babe watched one strike go past him and swung at -two more. You could hear his “_Ugh!_” on the Holman’s bench as the -force of his swing carried him half around, but you couldn’t hear any -soul-stirring crash of bat against ball. Ginger groaned and pulled his -cap far over his eyes. Gus Cousins shrugged. The Munson band blared and -the Class Day crowd took possession of the field. - -Holman’s trailed back to Baldwin, a rather silent crowd. Babe stared at -his hands most of the way, unseeing of the sorrowing yet sympathetic -and forgiving regard of Ginger. - -The next morning there was an hour’s batting practice and a long -fielding work-out, and at two o’clock the rivals faced each other -again. To-day was Holman’s Class Day and her day for sound and fury, -but Holman’s had fewer rooters than the larger school and could produce -no band. To-day Holman’s, cheered by her cohorts and on her own field, -got away to a good start. In the second inning Ted Purves hit safely, -stole second and reached third on Tom Wentworth’s out. Joe Kenton -was passed. Mac Torrey drove a hot liner to second, second baseman -booted it and Ted scored. Bud Thomas bunted toward the pitcher’s box -and Cross, Munson’s ace, after holding the runners, threw the ball -two yards wide of first. When the dust had settled two more runs had -crossed. Babe fouled out to third baseman. Bellows drew a pass. Hal -Norwin, head of the list, tried two bunts and failed and then hit the -ball over third. Mac and Bud romped home. Prince was thrown out at -first and Ted Purves fouled out to catcher. Five tallies graced the -score board. - -Those five would have been sufficient, for George Bellows held Munson -scoreless to the fifth, when two hits and a sacrifice fly netted one -run, and afterwards to the end, but in the seventh Holman’s added two -more tallies for good measure when, with Torrey on second and two down, -Babe made the old bat speak at last. Cross had given way to Boyd, and -Boyd perhaps forgot Babe’s predilection for high ones. That as may have -been, Babe connected with a shoulder-high delivery just over the edge -of the plate and sent it screaming to the very edge of Conyer’s Creek, -and romped around the bases unchallenged. When he turned, grinning, -toward the bench, there was the dignified Ginger standing on his head, -his brilliant locks mingling with the dust of the trampled field. - -Later, said Babe: “Well, how about the old cudgel now, son?” - -Ginger shook his head and spoke sadly. “Babe, that guy didn’t ought to -have pitched you a high one. That was a James H. Dandy of a hit, all -right, all right, but it don’t prove nothing, Babe, nothing at all.” - -Babe laughed and rumpled Ginger’s dusty hair. “Son,” he said, “you’re -just plain stubborn!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE DECIDING GAME - - -That was Thursday. The deciding game was to be played in the city on -Saturday. The Holman’s team returned to the well-nigh empty campus and -settled down for the wait. Gus didn’t make the mistake of working them -hard on Friday. There was a little batting and a little throwing and a -long talk under the shade of the stand; and, of course, the pitchers -worked their sweaters off; but there was nothing strenuous that day. -One just sat around and waited――and hoped. - -Late that Friday afternoon Ginger was an unobtrusive unit in a group -of five who lolled on the campus sward where a big elm cast an oasis -of shade in a sun-smitten Sahara. It was very hot and very still, and -the deserted dormitories seemed to have dropped asleep for the summer. -Conversation had been desultory, but all of the morrow’s game. Now -Captain Hal said smilingly, but with an undertone of earnestness: -“Babe, it’s too bad you didn’t save that homer for to-morrow.” - -“There’s another where that came from,” replied Babe. - -“Not a chance,” said Dave. “They’ll walk you every time you come up.” - -“I don’t believe,” answered Babe. “You see, I haven’t been hitting -much, and they’ll think that was just an accident.” - -“Brainy guys, then,” murmured Dave, pillowing his head more comfortably -on one of Babe’s ample legs. - -“Is that so, fresh?” Babe pressed the heel of a big hand sternly on -Dave’s classic nose and elicited a groan of protest. “If they’ll put -the old pill where I can reach it, Dave, it’s going to travel.” - -“Sure, all you want is a straight one across your chest. That’s not -much to ask, eh? Seems like they might do you a slight favor like that, -what? Then, if it happens you can swing that old bridge timber of yours -around in time, you’ll maybe get a hit!” - -“‘Bridge timber!’” chuckled Hal. “That’s a new one!” Ginger, sitting -slightly apart, grinned. Babe grinned, too. - -“The old bridge timber did the trick yesterday, just the same.” Then -he laughed reflectively. “Ginger was all broke up over that. He’s been -after me to use one of those toothpicks, like the rest of you, and when -he saw that homer he just dug his face in the dust.” - -“Ginger’s dead right,” said Joe Kenton. “You’d hit three times as often -if you used a light bat.” - -“Sure,” agreed Dave. - -“Do you fellows think so, too?” demanded Ginger eagerly. - -“Of course,” replied Joe. “You’ve got the right dope, Ginger.” - -“I’ll say so,” said Dave. “If Babe didn’t have a solid concrete dome, -he’d know it, too.” - -“Well, you can’t tell, I guess,” murmured Ginger. It was one thing -for him to criticize the ways of his hero, and quite another thing to -listen to some one else doing it! - -“Keep your orbs on your Uncle Babe to-morrow, Ginger,” laughed the big -fellow. “I’m going to show you unbelievers just what the old bat can -do.” - -“I――I hope you will,” muttered Ginger. “I’d like to see it.” - -“You will,” answered Babe confidently. “You sure will, son, you sure -will. To-morrow about this time you’ll be apologizing to me and the old -bat for all the harsh words you’ve spoken, Ginger. Sack cloth and ashes -for you to-morrow, son!” - -“I wished I was going to be there,” said Ginger longingly. “It’ll be -the first game I’ve missed since I took hold.” - -“Mean to say you’re not going along?” demanded Hal, while the rest -stared in surprise. - -“Can’t, Cap.” Ginger shook his red head regretfully. - -“Why not?” asked Babe. “Who says so?” - -“Mister Naylor. He says he can’t afford to pay my fare. Course, I’d pay -my own fare, only my――my dividends ain’t been comin’ in very regular -lately――” - -“Well, I’ll be blowed!” ejaculated Dave. “The old miser! Going to do us -out of our mascot for a paltry five or six dollars! What’s it cost to -get down there and back, Hal?” - -“Five――something. You can’t blame Bert much, though. We haven’t begun -to make expenses this spring, and Bert’s the guy that’s got to make the -alibis. Still, it wouldn’t hurt much to loosen up on a fiver.” - -“I’ll say it wouldn’t,” declared Joe. “Look here, you know, you chaps, -we’ve got to have Ginger! Gee, we’d get licked as sure as shooting -without our mascot! Let’s dig!” - -“Keep your hands out of your pockets, you guys,” directed Babe. “Ginger -and I are pals, and I look after his finances. You be at the train -promptly at nine-eighteen, son, and bring your rabbit’s foot along. -Something tells me we’re going to need it.” - -“I ain’t got any rabbit’s foot,” muttered Ginger, flushed, joyous, -embarrassed, “but I――I got a lucky dime.” - -“Bring it, kid, bring it!” begged Dave. - -The league grounds in the city were neutral territory, without a -doubt; and they were also very nearly deserted territory when the game -started the next day. There was a small and devoted clump of Holman’s -supporters back of third base and a scarcely larger company of Munson -cohorts back of first. And there were some six hundred representatives -of the general public scattered hither and yon about the rambling -stands. It was not an inspiring scene. There was no band, there was but -little cheering, there were few pennants. The general public munched -peanuts and, still neutral, lolled in its seat and yawned throughout -four dismal innings. It seemed that the teams were as depressed -and indifferent as the bulk of the spectators. The afternoon was -scorchingly, breathlessly hot, and to move from bench to plate started -perspiration from every pore. - -On the toss-up Holman’s had won the slight advantage of last innings, -and so Munson went to bat first. Dave, starting for the Light Green, -held the enemy hitless until the second and scoreless until the fourth. -He didn’t have much trouble doing it, either, for Munson was listless -and without ambition. For the Blue-and-Gold, Nelson, a left-hander -also, went to the mound. Cross, Munson’s best twirler, had worked in -both previous games, whereas Dave had not worked since Wednesday, -and some advantage was believed to accrue to Holman’s from those -circumstances. And yet, if Munson failed to hit Dave, so Holman’s as -lamentably failed to punish the Blue-and-Gold’s substitute twirler. -Nelson traveled scathless to the last of the fourth, but one pass and -a scratch hit being scored against him. It was that fourth inning that -captured the somnolent gaze of the spectators and interrupted the -steady crunching of peanuts. - -Munson’s first man up fanned, but the next ambitiously reached for a -wide one of Dave’s, got it on the end of his bat and sent it arching -into right field, four inches inside the foul line and out of reach -of either Tom or Mac. Encouraged, the next batsman hit straight down -the second base alley, and suddenly there were men on first and third -and but one out! The neutrals in the stands began to take sides, and, -naturally, rooted for the team that had started going and was promising -to give them something for their money. The old ball park woke up from -its slumbers and comparative animation reigned. Also, there was much -noise from the Munson section and the Munson coachers and the Munson -bench. Dave cinched his belt a notch and woke up, too. But the next -batsman was a good waiter and nothing Dave pitched suited the umpire -behind the plate. Most unexpectedly, as things happen in baseball, the -three bases were occupied! Moreover, the earnest-faced chap now facing -Dave was Munson’s clean-up man! - -To pass him, mused Babe, would force in a run and still leave but one -out. On the other hand, if he hit safely two tallies would come across; -maybe more. He must, therefore, be induced to knock out a fly, even -if it was a long one. In response to Babe’s signals Dave kept them -low. The first offering was a strike. The next two were balls. The -fourth delivery was fouled into the first base stand. The next was a -hair-breadth too low and made the tally 2 and 3. Dave had to pitch it -over now, but with luck he could still work the batsman for an out. And -he did, for the long fly arched down into Purves’ waiting hands. The -man on third raced home after the catch and beat the ball to the plate -by yards. But there were two gone now and Holman’s breathed easier. -To the next man Dave issued the first pass and again the bases were -filled. But that ended the drama, for the Munson second baseman went -out, Norwin to Wentworth. - -Holman’s went after that one run lead in her half of the fourth and -evened the score. Ted Purves flied out to center, Wentworth reached -first on shortstop’s error, Joe Kenton sacrificed with a slow bunt -along first base line and, with Tom on second, Mac slammed out a -two-bagger into center. But that one tally was all that could be had, -for Bud Thomas’ liner went smack into shortstop’s glove. - -Dave got through the fifth without much trouble, only four men facing -him. Nelson wobbled a bit more, but also escaped injury, Babe fanning -for the second time, Dave flying out to first and Hal Norwin knocking -a weak grounder to Nelson. In the sixth inning both pitchers became -unsteady and only sharp fielding saved them. In the seventh Dave -steadied down and fanned the first two aspirants. Then came a double -over second base and the Munson supporters yelled hopefully. But the -next man perished on a foul to Babe. The last half of the seventh -witnessed the retirement of Nelson, warmly applauded by both sides, -after he had been hit for a double and had passed two men. Cross, with -but one down, made Dave send up a pop fly to second baseman and then -crawled out of a tight hole when Captain Norwin’s grounder was handled -perfectly by third baseman and Mac was nailed at the plate. - -Dave was threatened with disaster in the first of the eighth when, -having hit the first of the enemy and sent him, nursing his elbow, to -first, he passed the next opponent. A clever bunt filled the bags and -things looked black for the Light Green. The succeeding play, however, -resulted in an out at the plate, and then a speedy double, Norwin to -Kenton to Wentworth, pulled the fat out of the fire. In the last of -that inning Captain Hal, Ted Purves and Tom Wentworth went out in -order, Hal third baseman to first, and the others on strikes. And, -still 1 to 1, the deciding game went into the final inning. - -Dave pitched real ball in that inning. Munson tried all she knew how -to break through. With one down, a victim to Dave’s puzzling delivery, -the Munson third baseman succeeded in dropping a Texas Leaguer behind -Tom Wentworth. A minute later Babe’s hurried peg to second went just -too wide to nip a steal. A pinch hitter took a hand then for the -Blue-and-Gold, swung at a deceptive drop, knocked a foul back of third, -slanted two more into the stand, let two balls pass him and at last -hit safely to short left. Then, with two on, Fortune favored the Light -Green. The Munson catcher landed against Dave’s first delivery――he had -tried to sneak over a straight, fast one――and sent it smashing across -the infield, rising as it went. The runners dashed away. Joe Kenton -hurled himself high into the air and to the right, shot up a hand and -speared the ball. Only the fact that when he came down he landed, or -so it appeared, directly on the back of his neck, deprived him of a -double play. By the time he had recovered himself and shot the ball to -third base the runner there was safe. But there were two gone, now, -and Holman’s set herself desperately to ward off defeat. The runner -on third, instigated by a coach with a voice like a load of furniture -falling downstairs, cut wierd didoes on the base path, kicking up the -dust, starting at top speed for the plate only to twirl and scuttle -back to the bag, dancing and gyrating. None of these antics appeared -to affect Dave, however. He observed the dervish-like enemy tolerantly -and calmly and pitched to the batter, working slowly and carefully, -digesting Babe’s signals for a long moment before each wind-up. He -tried a slow one that settled slowly toward the dust as it crossed the -plate and was adjudged a ball. He shot a high one across the outer -corner and netted a strike. He followed with a curve, waist-high, and -heard it called a ball. Babe rewarded the umpire with a look of amazed -pity. - -“It looked good,” he confided to Dave cheeringly. “Let’s have it again. -Come on, Dave!” But Babe’s words were belied by the signal hidden under -the big mitten, and what followed was so palpably a straight ball in -the groove that the batter swung smartly――and missed badly. - -“Two and two!” proclaimed the official. - -“Nice work, Dave!” shouted Babe. “That’s pitching, boy! One more now!” - -Babe’s voice was almost drowned by the strident cries of the coachers. -Even the Munson bench was howling advice and encouragement. The runner -on third was for an instant still, under the conditions a suspicious -circumstance and suggesting a dash for the plate on the next pitch. -Dave glanced unconcernedly toward the last station, studied Babe’s -signal, hesitated, shook his head. Babe signaled anew. Dave nodded. All -this was merely to give the batsman something to think about besides -his job of hitting the ball on the nose, for Dave seldom refused Babe’s -signals, and when he did he didn’t shake his head at them but walked -toward the plate and held a whispered conference with the catcher. -The incident worried the coach a mite, too, and he had half a mind to -cancel his signal for an attempted steal from third. But he didn’t, and -as Dave’s hand holding the ball went back the runner shot for the plate. - -Dave didn’t hurry his delivery, although the form of the scuttling -runner was plain to his sight as his arm shot forward. The ball went -true to its goal, the batter started to swing and changed his mind, the -ball thudded into Babe’s mitten and the umpire swung an arm outward and -backward. - -“He’s out!” The runner from third slid into the base in a cloud of -yellow dust, his performance a wasted effort. - -In the stand the little group of Holman’s rooters stood and yelled -themselves red of face, and between the plate and the Holman’s bench -a youth pushed a cap to the back of his very red head and spun -ecstatically on one heel. - -Ginger had kept his emotions sternly in check throughout eight and -a half innings, presenting a cheerful, untroubled countenance to -the world, performing his duties with all his accustomed masterly -efficiency. But now relief demanded expression, and he spun on a worn -heel and was inarticulately joyful. Then he was at Babe’s side, hand -outstretched for mask and mitt, saying casually: - -“Atta-boy, Babe! ’At’s holding ’em!” - -Babe grinned as he unbuckled the strap of his protector. “Get a good -grip on your lucky dime, Ginger, and root for the old bridge timber!” -said Babe. - -Ginger looked startled. Gee, Babe was right, though! Joe Kenton was up, -and then came Mac, Bud, and Babe. Ginger hoped hard that the needed run -wouldn’t depend on Babe, for Babe had faced the enemy three times and -had failed on each occasion to hit. More than that, it was Cross who -was now pitching, and only yesterday morning Babe had acknowledged that -never yet, this year or any other, had Cross allowed him a bingle. For -Cross knew Babe’s weakness and didn’t have to have the catcher tell him -to keep them low and inside. - -“Batter up!” called the umpire impatiently, and Joe, who had been -listening with bent head to Coach Cousins’ instructions, straightened -and walked to the plate very jauntily. - -“You got one comin’ to you, Joe,” said Ginger, as he rescued the bat -relinquished by the left fielder. “Bust it on the nose!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -GINGER SIGNS UP AGAIN - - -Ginger returned the discarded bat to the orderly array near the bench, -sank to one knee beside it and watched anxiously. It was evident that -Cross meant to send that game to extra innings. He was slow and canny, -studying the batsman, gripping the ball with more than usual nicety. -Ginger observed Joe Kenton and frowned slightly. It was plain to him -that Joe had been instructed to bunt, and Ginger didn’t approve of -the bunting game. Of course an occasional bunt was all right, if the -other fellow wasn’t looking for it, or you wanted to pull a player out -of position, but Ginger believed in forcing the issue, in going after -the ball hard. “They’ll look for a bunt and he won’t have a Chinaman’s -chance,” Ginger reflected. “That third baseman’s playing in for him -right now. Gee, I wish he wouldn’t!” “He” in Ginger’s thoughts was Joe, -and not the third baseman. The boy turned and shot an almost imploring -glance at Gus Cousins, but the coach’s gaze was on the game. Then came -the tragedy, and quite as Ginger had pictured it. Joe loosened his bat -and thrust it in the path of the first delivery. The ball trickled -slowly toward third. It was a nice bunt and, unexpected, might have won -him first base. But the player on third came in at top speed, scooped -up the rolling ball and, in the same motion, sped it to first. Joe was -beaten by six feet! - -One down! But Ginger maintained his cheerfulness as he took the bat -from the disgusted Joe. - -“Hard luck! Robbery, I call it!” Mac Torrey faced the pitcher now. Mac -was no bunter, even had Gus elected to cling to the bunting game, and -Ginger looked for something to happen. And as he looked his mind was -busy with the future. Babe, untroubled, lolled on the bench, one big -arm over Dave’s shoulders. Ginger frowned a trifle as he returned his -gaze to the drama before him. If Mac got his base and Bud went out and -it was up to Babe――Ginger sighed and shook his head. - -One ball, and then a strike at which Mac did not offer. A second ball. -Cross was working deftly and easily, very much master of the situation -as it seemed. A fourth delivery sped to the plate, a lazy ball that -looked good until it began to curve outward and down. Mac swung hard -and missed by inches. Ginger gave a little groan and his gaze shot -sideways to where Babe’s black-handled bat lay close to his hand. Then -he got to his feet, unnoted by any one, probably, on field or seats, -and wandered along the edge of the stand toward the nearly empty press -box. Short of it, he stopped and leaned with one elbow on the edge and -watched the plate while Cross’s fifth delivery was met by Mac and sent -arching over the first base pavilion. Then, quite as unobtrusively as -he had left his place, Ginger loitered back to the end of the bench and -again subsided to a knee. And just then Mac swung innocuously and the -umpire waved him away and there were two down! - -“You’re next, Babe!” called the manager as Bud Thomas went to the -plate. Ginger’s heart stood still for an instant and then raced very -hard. He was pawing over the bats as Babe arose. - -“Give us the old bridge timber, son,” said Babe cheerfully, “and rub -the lucky dime!” - -Ginger raised a pale countenance on which the freckles stood out with -strange prominence. “It――it ain’t here, Babe,” he answered, his voice a -little husky in spite of his effort to make it sound natural. - -“Where is it, then?” demanded Babe, his gaze searching the ground. -“What have you done with it, son?” He looked to see if by some strange -chance Bud had chosen it, but Bud hadn’t. Ginger was searching behind -the long bench, and under it, and around the water bucket. Others -joined the search. Captain Hal bent a curious look on Ginger, which -Ginger met and quickly avoided. It was Manager Naylor who suggested a -solution. - -“Maybe it got mixed up with their bats,” said Bert, nodding across the -diamond toward the enemy headquarters. “Run over and see, Ginger.” - -And Ginger very gladly went. But it wasn’t there, and he returned -breathlessly to Babe and told him so. And just at that moment Bud -leaned against one of Cross’s curves and the ball made a gray streak -across the infield between second and third bases. Shortstop made a -dive at it and knocked it down, but it was third baseman who pegged it -to first a long instant after Bud had shot across the sack. Holman’s -took heart and cheered and shouted, and joy reigned in all patriotic -breasts save that of Babe Linder. Babe was in despair. From the umpire -at the plate came the sharp admonishment “Come on! Batter up!” Babe -gave a last yearning look at the array of bats spread before him and -dazedly accepted the one that Ginger held forth. - -“Babe,” said Ginger earnestly, “don’t swing too hard, will you? This -bat’s got a lot of pep to it. Just meet ’em sharp like, Babe. Do you -get me? You ain’t going to miss that other bat, honest! You――” - -Babe looking down read something in Ginger’s face that made him stop -on his way to the plate. “Oh,” he said softly, “so that’s it!” He was -smiling, but it was a grim, tight sort of smile and Ginger’s heart -sank. “This is your doings, eh? All right, Ginger, but when this -game’s done I’m going to find you, and I’m going to――” - -“Say!” interrupted the umpire wrathfully, “I’ll give you just ten -seconds to get in the box! What do you think this is, a cricket game?” - -Babe went on, parting from Ginger with one last long, meaningful -look, and took his place beside the rubber. He was exceedingly angry -as he set his feet well apart and squared himself to the plate. The -ridiculous thing in his hands had no weight, no substance, as he -swung it back and waited. He felt helpless, as helpless as Hercules -himself might have felt if some one had stolen his good old club and -substituted a willow wand! - -“Lose your bat?” inquired the Munson catcher affably as he straightened -up after giving his signal. - -“Yes,” growled Babe morosely. “Some murdering thief――” - -But there wasn’t time for more, because a grayish-white object came -speeding toward him. Babe kept his eyes on it until it became a blur to -his vision, but made no offer at it. It was much too low; way under his -knees, and―― - -“_Stuh-rike!_” intoned the umpire. Babe turned upon him indignantly. - -“_What?_” he demanded, outraged. - -There was no reply beyond a baleful glance from the cold gray eyes of -the official. Babe grunted, waved that useless weapon twice across the -plate and grimly set himself again. From the bench came encouraging -advice. “Make him pitch to you, Babe!” “It only takes one, old son!” -“Let’s have it, Babe! You’re better than he is!” A palpable ball went -past, but Babe breathed easier when the umpire called it by its right -name. Cross pegged twice to first, where Bud was taking long chances -on the path to second, got no results and again gave his attention to -Babe. Then the signal came and Babe’s big fingers clutched more tightly -about the inadequate handle of the toy weapon. The ball sped toward -him and Bud started, hot foot, for second. Babe swung, putting all -his force of weight and muscle into action. The infield was shouting -loudly as Babe’s bat, meeting no opposition, swung right on around, -taking Babe with it. Then the Munson catcher stepped forward and threw, -straight and true but high, to shortstop. Ball and Bud reached the bag -at the same instant, but Bud was saved by the fraction of time required -by the shortstop to bring the ball from above his head to the level of -his shoe tops. Holman’s cheered, Bud arose carefully and patted a cloud -of dust from his togs and Cross viewed the runner venomously ere he -stepped back into the box. - -Two strikes and one ball, reflected Babe. He had forgotten to allow -for the difference in the weight of his bat that time and had swung -too soon. It had been a good ball, if a trifle lower than Babe liked -them, and he would have got it if he hadn’t been too quick. But what -could you do with a matchstick, anyway? What was it Ginger had said? -“That bat’s got a lot of pep to it. Just meet ’em sharp like.” Drat -the red-headed little rascal! Maybe his advice was good, though. Babe -guessed it was. Maybe, next time, if he held back a little―― - -The next time came. Cross had balls to spare, but something whispered -to Babe that the long-legged pitcher was eager to end the innings, -that he meant to close the incident with his next delivery. Babe -had forgotten his anger now. He was the old calm, cool-headed Babe. -Something of his accustomed confidence returned as he narrowed his eyes -slightly and poised that inadequate bat. Cross stepped forward, his -hand shot toward the plate, the ball sped from it, grew bigger, hung -for a brief moment in air as though motionless and then was at the -plate. - -“Just meet it sharp!” said Babe to himself. Then his bat swept around -in what for Babe was scarcely more than a half-swing, there was a sharp -_crack_, and ball and batsman were off at the same instant. And so was -Bud, his legs twinkling as he sped for third. The ball streaked, low -and at lightning speed, straight across the base line midway between -first and second. After its passage first baseman and second baseman -picked themselves up from the turf and raced to their bags. In right -field a frantic player cupped his hands before the rolling ball, -straightened and threw desperately to the plate. But Bud’s spikes -spurned the rubber just as the ball began its long bound, and before -the sphere had settled into the catcher’s mitten Holman’s shouts -proclaimed victory and Bud, breathless but happy, was fighting his way -to the bench through a mob of frantic friends. - -Half an hour later, seated beside Babe on the dusty red velvet of a -day-coach, Ginger was making confession. “It was an awful nervy thing -to do, Babe, but, gee, I just had to! Honest, I did, Babe! Look at the -fix we was in. We only needed the one run to cop the game, didn’t we? -And you ain’t never come through in the pinches with that bat, Babe, -have you? Didn’t you say yourself that you ain’t never made a hit off -that Cross guy? Sure, you did! I just knew you’d go in there and try to -slug out a homer, if you had that big club, Babe, and we didn’t need no -homer to win, see? All we needed was just a nice little hit, Babe, like -a fellow would make if he just took a short swing and hit the old apple -clean. So I says ‘If he don’t have the old bridge timber he’ll have -to use one of the other bats, and maybe thataway he’ll come through.’ -And so when you wasn’t lookin’ I hid the old blackjack in the stand. -Believe me, I was scared! And if――” - -“Believe me,” interrupted Babe very, very fiercely, “you had a right to -be scared, for I certainly intended to crown you for fair, son!” - -Ginger grinned and edged a wee bit closer to the big chap. “Aw, gee,” -he said, “I wasn’t caring about no lickin’, Babe. What I was scared of -was maybe you wouldn’t make no hit, after all! But you did, didn’t you, -Babe?” - -“Sure did,” agreed Babe cheerfully. - -“An’――” Ginger’s tone became insinuating――“an’, say, Babe, them light -bats ain’t so worse, are they?” - -Babe turned a stern countenance on the criminal. “Lay off that, son, -lay off,” he replied. “That bat did the trick for me that time, all -right. But, as you said to me not so long ago, Ginger, that don’t prove -nothing, nothing at all!” - -But Ginger, catching the twinkle in Babe’s eyes, thought differently. - -The team’s banquet was held at Mander’s Chesapeake Oyster House, in -the upstairs room where the ceiling was so low that Babe threatened -to bring down the plaster whenever he stood up. All the players -were there, and the Coach and the Manager and the Assistant Manager -and――Ginger! Ginger was there, of course, in his official position of -Mascot, and just at first he was far too embarrassed to take joy from -the occasion. But he pulled himself together, in a way of speaking, -along about the second course and, perhaps just to prove that he was -quite accustomed to banquets――which of course he wasn’t――he finished -strong, eating his own three-colored ice cream and Babe’s and Ted -Purves’. - -Naturally, Ginger had no vote in the election which followed, though it -is likely enough that he, too, would have cast his vote for Joe Kenton. -Joe, however, didn’t need any more votes than he got on the first and -only ballot taken, for his election was unanimous. Hal, privileged as -retiring captain to nominate a successor, said so many splendid things -about his chum that Joe got very red in the face and looked extremely -unhappy until the last cheer for the new leader had died away. Later -they sang some songs and felt a trifle sentimental, especially fellows -who, like Babe and Hal, wouldn’t be there next year, and at last the -banquet came to an end. Many of the fellows seized on suitcases and -hurried off for the late train. Others, Joe and Hal and Babe amongst -them, went slowly back to school through the warm June night. Ginger, -loath to see the last of his friend and hero, tagged along at Babe’s -side, and when Routledge was reached allowed himself to be persuaded to -ascend to Number 14. - -Up there, with the windows open and coats off, they sat and talked -long. No one, it seemed, was sleepy even when eleven o’clock struck. -But Ginger pulled himself from Babe’s side and said he guessed he’d -have to be getting along or the old man would whale the hide off him! -They shook hands very gravely with him and Joe said: “Well, see you -next year, Ginger.” - -Then, to the others’ surprise, Ginger shook his head. “I don’t guess -you will,” he said gruffly. - -“What!” exclaimed Babe. “Going to desert us?” - -“Aw, you won’t be here,” answered Ginger, his gaze on the floor. - -“Why, no, old man, I won’t, but Joe will, and a lot of the others. -Great Scott, kid, you can’t desert the old team like that!” - -“Of course you can’t,” said Joe. “Besides, Ginger, it’s pretty likely -that Babe’ll be back here now and then, and if you want to see him -you’d better hang about the old field. And, gee, Ginger, I was counting -on your help! It isn’t going to be any easy job next year, with so many -of the old players gone, and――well, I’m going to need you, Ginger.” - -Ginger hesitated, looked at Joe, darted a glance at Babe and at last -spoke. - -“Aw, all right,” he said. “I’ll see the old team through another -season.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -CALLED TO THE COLORS - - -In September Joe was back again at Holman’s, three months older, nearly -an inch taller than he had been the preceding fall and a good eight -pounds heavier than when he had left school in June. Some of those -eight pounds, he knew, would come off when he began running the bases -in fall practice, but he earnestly hoped that most of them would stay -with him. As Hal was no longer there, and, since he was now a senior, -he was privileged to room in the senior dormitory. He had applied for -and been assigned one of the front studies in Levering Hall. But in -July his plans had been changed. A wierdly scrawled letter from Gus -Billings, written in a Maine camp, had reached him toward the last of -that month. Gus, himself now without a roommate, proposed that Joe -share Number 10 Puffer. “Maybe it isn’t as fussy as Levering,” wrote -Gus, “but it’s a good old dive and I’d rather stay there next year than -change, and you’d like it, I’ll bet, if you tried it.” So Joe joined -forces with the big, good-natured football captain, taking over Babe -Linder’s half of the quarters and becoming heir to one frayed bath -towel, a half-filled bottle of witch-hazel and the remains of what had -once been a blue gymnasium shirt, these articles being discovered in -various out-of-the-way corners. - -Joe missed Hal Norwin a good deal for the first few days of the new -term, but after that there was scarcely time to miss any one. Fall -baseball practice began on the second day and Joe was busy. He and Gus -got on beautifully right from the start. Any fellow, though, could get -on with Gus, so that was no great credit to Joe. Gus was even busier -than Joe, and, as football leader, was facing far more responsibility. -Until well into October Joe knew but little of the football situation. -Gus spoke of it frequently enough, but Joe’s attention was generally -perfunctory. Then, one evening Gus sprang a surprise. - -“Say, how much longer are you going to waste your time with that gang -of morons?” he asked. “Moron” was a new word with Gus, and he loved it. -Joe simulated perplexity. - -“Morons, Gus? Why, I’m not on the eleven!” - -“No, but you ought to be,” growled Gus. “Look here, Joseph, we were -talking about you this afternoon, Rusty and I, and we decided you’d -have to come out.” - -“Play football? Not on your life! Listen, Gus, I’ve got all the -trouble I want right now. You and Rusty want to forget it!” - -“Can’t be done. We need you. We’re short of men, as you know, and――” - -“I didn’t know it,” exclaimed Joe suspiciously. - -“Well, you would have if you’d heard what I’ve been telling you every -day for three weeks! We’ve got a punk lot of backfield stuff, and we -need more. We――” - -“Thanks,” laughed Joe. - -“We need more men, I mean. You’ve played two years already, Joe, and -you know a lot more than some of those new morons that are trying for -jobs. You’d be a lot of good out there if you’d come. How about it?” - -“But I can’t, Gus! Who’s going to look after the baseball gang? There’s -a good fortnight of practice ahead yet. Of course, after that, if you -still insist, I’ll be glad to join your crowd of roughnecks. Just -the same, I don’t see what use I can be. You know mighty well I’m no -football player. I proved that last year, and――” - -“How come? Look at what you did in the Mills game. Made every score -yourself――” - -“Shut up! I’m a dub at football, and every one knows it. What are you -and Rusty trying to do, anyway? String me?” - -“Not a bit of it, Joe, honest. Listen. Rusty says you’d probably get -a place this year if you tried hard. After all, experience is what -counts, and you’ve had two years of it. And you’re a mighty clever guy -when it comes to running, Joe. You’re fast and you can dodge like a -rabbit.” - -“Yes, maybe. And I can get the signals twisted and I can score as well -for the other fellow as for us! I’m a plain nitwit at football, Gus, -old darling, and you ought to know it. So had Rusty. Besides――” and Joe -grinned――“what would I want to play any more for? I’ve got my letter, -haven’t I?” - -“Letter?” said Gus. “You’ve got three of ’em; baseball, football and -hockey. If it comes to that, what do you want to play any more baseball -for?” - -“Oh, that’s different. I’m captain, you see.” - -“Sure. And I’m football captain. So you ought to play football.” - -The logic wasn’t quite clear to Joe, but he didn’t challenge it. He -only shook his head again. “Anything to oblige you, Gus, but my duty is -with the baseball crowd just now.” - -“What’s the matter with letting Prince attend to ’em? What’s fall -practice amount to, anyway? Any one can stand around and see that those -guys get enough work. The job doesn’t need you. Besides, you could look -’em over now and then, couldn’t you?” - -“But, my dear, good Gustavus,” protested Joe, “what’s the big idea? -You’ve got Dave Hearn and Johnny Sawyer for half-backs, and maybe six -or eight others, haven’t you? Why pick on me?” - -“Sure, we’ve got Dave and Johnny and a fellow named Leary, a new guy, -but that’s all we have got. The rest are a total loss. You know mighty -well three half-backs aren’t enough to carry a team through a whole -season. Johnny’s a fine plunger, a rattling guy for the heavy and rough -business, but he’s as slow as cold cream when it comes to running. -Dave’s good; he’s fine; but we need a couple others. You’re one of ’em. -When do you start?” - -Joe laughed impatiently. “I don’t start, you old idiot. I’ve told you I -can’t.” - -“Bet you you do,” replied Gus, untroubledly. - -“Well, I’ll bet I don’t! At any rate, not until fall baseball’s -through.” There was a moment’s silence during which Joe found his place -in the book he had been studying. Then he added: “I’m sorry, Gus, of -course, but you see how it is.” - -“I thought you liked football,” said Gus. “You were crazy about it last -fall.” - -“I do like it. I’m crazy about it yet, I guess, even if I’ve proved to -myself that I’m no player, but――” - -“And now, just when you’re practically certain of making the team, you -quit!” - -“Practically certain of――say, are you crazy?” - -“Well, aren’t you? You’re captain of the baseball team, aren’t you? -Well, you ought to know what that means. If I went out for baseball -next spring don’t you think I’d find a place, even if I was fairly -punk? Sure, I would. Just because I’m football captain. Well, it works -the other way, too, doesn’t it? Any coach will stretch a point to find -a place for a fellow who’s captain in another sport. Rusty as good as -said this afternoon that you’d get placed if you came out. Of course, -that doesn’t mean that you’d play all the time, but you’d get a good -show and you’d be sure of playing against Munson for a while anyway.” - -“I call that a pretty sick piece of business,” replied Joe disgustedly. -“And if you think it works always, why, you just try for the nine next -spring! You’ll have a fat chance of making it if you can’t play real -baseball, Gus!” - -“Maybe,” chuckled Gus, “but if you left it to the coach he’d look after -me all right!” - -“Well, I don’t want a place on the football team that I don’t earn. And -you can tell Rusty so, too. I’m not coming out, Gus, but if I did I -wouldn’t take any favors like that. That’s――that’s crazy!” - -“Well, don’t get excited,” said Gus soothingly. “We’ll let you earn -your place, Joe.” - -“You bet you will――when you get the chance!” - -Joe resolutely cupped his chin in his palms and fixed his eyes on the -book. Gus smiled tolerantly, sighed and drew his own work toward him. - -Two days later Joe reported for football. - -There didn’t seem to be anything else to do. The coach talked to three -or four of the leading members of the nine and convinced them that -Captain Kenton was needed on the gridiron. Then he talked to Joe. -Rusty was a forceful talker, even if his vocabulary wasn’t large, and -at the end of half an hour he had Joe teetering. And then when the -latter, having exhausted all the objections he could think of, fell -back on Charlie Prince and others of the last year crowd for support -they deserted him utterly. Charlie expressed amazement that Joe should -even hesitate. He said it was a question of patriotism, a call to the -colors, and a lot more, and Joe surrendered. Charlie took over the -running of the baseball team and Joe, delighted as soon as he was once -convinced, donned canvas again. - -So far Holman’s had journeyed a rough path. She had played four games -and won two of them. She had had her big moments, when it had seemed -to coach and players and spectators that the Light Green was due for -another successful season, with Munson’s scalp hanging from her belt -in November, but there had been other moments not so grand. Saarsburg -had fairly overwhelmed her in the third contest of the season, Holman’s -playing football that might easily have disgraced a grammar school -team. Some laid that to the fact that the thermometer hovered around -eighty; but it wasn’t to be denied that it was just as hot for the -visiting crowd, and Rusty, the red-headed Holman’s coach, chewed his -gum very fast and swallowed a lot of things he wanted to say. Then, -just to show what she could do, the Light Green took Center Hill -Academy into camp to the tune of 23 to 0; and Center Hill was no infant -at the pigskin game! And three days after that Joe Kenton joined his -fortunes with Gus and Tom Meadows and Slim Porter and the others and -contentedly, if dubiously, proceeded to do his bit. - -It wasn’t much of a bit at first. He was football stale and it took -many days to get back into the rut again. Rusty gave him plenty of work -and plenty of opportunities, trying him out for a week on the scrubs -and then shifting him over to the first as a first-choice substitute. -He got into the Mills game for some twenty minutes and, perhaps because -Mills this year was only about fifty per cent of the team she had been -last, he was fairly successful in making gains outside of tackle. -Holman’s won without much effort, 19 to 0. Afterwards, Gus tried to -tell Joe that he had played a corking game, but Joe knew better. - -“Talk sense,” he protested. “If we’d been playing Munson, or even -Glenwood, I wouldn’t have made fifteen yards this afternoon. With you -and Barrows boxing that end any one could have got his distance. And -I mighty nigh got the signals mixed again that time on their sixteen -yards when Sanford sent Leary into the line. I was within an ace of -going after the ball myself. If Leary hadn’t started a split-second -before I could get going I’d have gummed the game finely! No, sir, Gus, -I’m no pigskin wonder, and I know it. I love the pesky old game and -I’ll play it as long as you and Rusty can stand me, but I haven’t any -whatyoucallems――any delusions of greatness.” - -“I don’t say you’re a great player,” demurred Gus, “but you got away -fast and clean to-day, and you follow the ball, Joe. If there’s one -thing I admire more than anything else in a football guy it’s that. I’m -a prune, myself, at it. I never could keep my eyes on the old leather, -and I’ve missed more tackles and fell over my own feet oftener than you -could count just for that reason. Yes, sir, you follow the ball, and I -sure like that, Joe.” - -“Oh, well, maybe so, but that doesn’t make me a player. Any one -can watch the pigskin and see where it’s going――or coming. And, of -course, if you know where it is you stand a fair chance of getting the -runner. But what I mean is that――that oh, I don’t know!” Joe sighed. -“I guess it just comes down to this, Gus. Some fellows have football -intelligence and a lot more haven’t. And I’m one of the haven’t!” - -“Well, keep the old shirt on,” counseled Gus. “You’re doing fine. I -wouldn’t wonder if we managed to use you a whole lot against Munson. -They say she’s got only a fair line this year, and a slow backfield, -and you ought to be able to get going once at least; and when you do -get started, Joseph, you’re hard to stop.” - -“A slow backfield!” jeered Joe. “Where do you get that stuff? Munson’s -still got Taylor, and he’s fast enough for half a dozen backs!” - -“Yeah, but the rest are big chaps and don’t handle themselves very -quick. Anyway, that’s the dope we get. Rusty’s aiming to put a fast -team against ’em, and that’s why I guess you’ll get a good share of -work the day we meet ’em. You keep right on the way you’re headed, old -son, and no one’ll do any kicking. And keep your eye on the ball just -like you’re doing. You sure do make a hit with me in that way, Joe!” - -“Well, it’s nice to know there’s one thing I do decently,” answered -Joe, still deeply pessimistic. “Too bad there isn’t a twelfth -position on a football team, Gus. I might get on the All-American as -ball-follower!” - -Gus grinned and muttered something as he lounged through the door. It -sounded like “moron.” - -The Mills game marked the end of the preliminary season. The four games -that remained, excepting, perhaps, that with Wagnalls, a week before -the final test, were serious affairs; and only the most optimistic -Holman’s supporters could figure wins for the Light Green in more than -two of them; and sometimes those two didn’t include the Munson contest! -Rusty had stopped experimenting now and, barring accidents, the line-up -for the Louisburg game would be the line-up that faced Munson. One -thing that worried all who dared hope for a victory over the Blue and -Gold was the fact that in all the seventeen years that Holman’s and -Munson had met on the gridiron never had the former won two successive -contests. Munson had beaten her rival two years running twice, but such -glory had yet to fall to Holman’s. Holman’s had won last fall, and -while there was, of course, absolutely nothing in this superstition -stuff――well, there it was! Even Captain Gus, who had as little -imagination as any one could have, was secretly oppressed, although -publicly, if any one referred to the subject, he laughed scornfully -and declared that fellows who put any faith in that sort of dope were -morons! - -What Rusty thought no one knew. Rusty kept right on working hard -with such material as Fate had willed to him, a dogged, determined, -generally cheerful Rusty who was well liked by all hands and who, -knowing what his charges didn’t know, was working for more than -a victory over the ancient rival. What he knew and the fellows -didn’t――or, if they did know, had forgotten――was that his four-year -term as coach expired this fall, and that, since like any general, he -was judged by results, whether his contract was renewed would depend -a very great deal on whether Holman’s or Munson emerged from the fast -approaching battle with the long end of the score. During Rusty’s -regime the Light Green had lost two Munson games and won one, and, -although Rusty might well have cited extenuating circumstances to -account for the first defeat, he realized fully that another reversal -would probably send him looking for a new position. So the little coach -worked hard, perhaps harder than he ever had worked, and with material -that, to say the best of it, was only average. If he had had last -year’s team Rusty wouldn’t have worried much, but he hadn’t. What he -had was only little more than half as good as last year’s, and so, not -infrequently, Rusty did worry. But few ever knew it. - -The Louisburg game proved a tragedy both to the team and to Joe; but -especially to Joe. Johnny Sawyer, playing right half, got a twisted -ankle early in the first period and, for some reason known only to -Rusty, Joe, instead of Leary, was sent in to replace him. Joe had never -been able to do as well at right half as at left; nor did he play as -well under Clinker’s leadership as under Sanford’s. To-day it was the -substitute quarter who had started, Sanford being reserved for the last -half. Things broke wrong for Joe on the very first play, which was a -fullback buck through right of center. Instead of going into the line -outside his right tackle as he should have, Joe dashed straight for the -center-guard hole. He beat Brill, the fullback, to it, but Joe was too -light for the job of cleaning the hole out, and when Brill slammed in -behind him the enemy defense had flocked to the point of attack and the -result was a three-yard loss for Holman’s. Joe emerged rather the worse -for wear and as yet unconscious of his error. Clinker, ably assisted -by Brill, informed him of it. There wasn’t much time for explanations, -but the two did wonders, and Joe, very sick and miserable, would have -crawled out of sight if that had been possible. - -He partly redeemed himself a few minutes later by a lucky catch of the -ball when it bounced from Barrow’s hands after a forward pass. But he -laid that to luck and nothing else, and found no comfort. Twice he -was stopped on plays around his right, once for a four-yard loss. It -wasn’t his day, and he was convinced of it, and he played as one who -was convinced. On defense he was not so bad, but Rusty wisely took him -out at the end of the quarter. Joe went over to the gymnasium certain -that he was disgraced. He didn’t return for the rest of the game, -and what happened he learned from Gus later. After holding Holman’s -scoreless during the first two periods, Louisburg opened up a whole -bag of tricks and, taking the offensive, slammed the opponents around -cruelly, putting two touchdowns across and adding a field goal for good -measure. The score was 16 to 0. Gus was still dazed when he told the -story. - -“We simply went to pieces, Joe, the whole kit and caboodle of us. Why, -even Ferris was up in the air. Twice he passed over Brill’s head. The -rest of us were just as bad. I was rotten. I don’t know what happened! -We played like a lot of――of morons!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -JOE FOLLOWS THE BALL - - -That evening Joe sought out Rusty in his room in the village. “I guess -I might as well quit,” he said. “I’m no good at it, Rusty, and there’s -no sense in my taking the place of some fellow who can play better. -You and Gus have been mighty decent, but I said when I started that I -didn’t want the job if I couldn’t earn it, and I haven’t. I’ve heard -more or less talk, too. Some fellows say I’m on just because I’m -rooming with Gus, or because I’m baseball captain. Well, I’d rather -they didn’t think that.” - -“What are you trying to do?” asked Rusty. “Resign?” - -“Yes.” Joe smiled and added: “Before I’m fired.” - -“Well, your resignation isn’t accepted, Kenton.” - -Joe observed the coach doubtfully. “But――but I’m in earnest,” he -protested. “It’s fine of you to be willing to put up with me, Rusty, -but I――I don’t want you to think that you’ve got to――that is, that -you’re under any obligation to find a place for me on the eleven.” - -“Obligation be blowed,” said Rusty. “What are you talking about, -anyway? I don’t get you, Kenton.” - -“Why, what I mean is――look here, Rusty. You know that if I wasn’t -baseball captain I’d have been let out two weeks ago. Well, I don’t -want to play football enough to keep my place by favor, and so――” - -“Oh, that’s it,” interrupted Rusty. “I get you now. So you think I’m -nursing you along because you’re baseball captain, eh?” - -“Well,” answered Joe, smiling, but uneasy because of a sudden setting -of Rusty’s face, “it’s done, isn’t it?” - -Rusty shook his head, his mouth drawn to a grim line. - -“Not this fall, Kenton,” he said. - -Joe stared back a moment, and then, as Rusty said no more, laughed -perplexedly. “Well――” he began vaguely. - -“When you aren’t any more use to the team, Kenton,” announced the coach -quietly, “I’ll tell you. But you wait until I do. If every one of -that bunch who played ragged this afternoon came to me and resigned I -wouldn’t have any team to-morrow. Good night.” - -Joe, still perplexed although greatly relieved, went back and reported -the conversation to Gus. Gus called him a moron. - -A week later Holman’s came back and played a very decent game against -the State Aggies team of husky, rangy veterans. She was beaten, but -only by a matter of two inches. Which is to say that if Brill’s second -attempt at a goal after touchdown had sent the pigskin two inches -higher it would have bounded over the bar instead of under. As it was, -the final score was 14 to 13, and as Holman’s had never hoped for -better than a tied score the result was accepted philosophically. Joe -played fairly well during the twenty-odd minutes that he was in; rather -better on defense than on attack, although he did get away once for a -twelve-yard run that for the moment made him look almost like a real -football player. One thing he did to the King’s taste――and Gus’s――was -to follow the ball, which accounted for the fact that he had several -fine tackles to his credit. Joe was not a little set up that evening, -although he tried not to let the fact be known. Gus, who was in a -jovial and expansive mood as a result of having more than outplayed -his opponent, insisted that Joe was every bit as good as Hearn and “a -blamed sight better than all the other subs!” Joe was pleased, but -sprinkled quite a quantity of salt on the avowal. - -There was a week of extremely hard work before the Wagnalls game. Rusty -called always for speed and more speed. You simply couldn’t satisfy -him, it seemed, and when practice was over the walk to the gymnasium -was ten miles long! But the Light Green certainly showed improvement by -the end of that week. Plays went off more smoothly and a lot faster, -and it did seem as though the team had at last really found itself. In -the Wagnalls game Joe made his first touchdown, slipping around his own -right end behind the entire backfield and getting free when Sawyer, -playing right half, dumped the opposing end. Joe started his run from -the enemy’s twenty-seven and had no opposition, once past the line, -save from the Wagnalls quarter. Joe outguessed that youth very neatly -and eluded a desperate tackle, taking the ball over for the second -score of the game to the plaudits of the Holman’s rooters. The game was -one-sided from the start and the home team hung up five touchdowns for -a grand total of 34 points while Wagnalls was scoring 7. Joe stayed in -a full half and, save that he once got his signals twisted, comported -himself very well. Even his one lapse went unpenalized since, more by -luck than skill, he got enough ground to make it first down again. - -Then, almost before any one realized it, it was Thursday and the last -practice was over and nothing was left to do save sit tight and wait -for the big adventure. - -Of course there were drills on Friday, both in the afternoon and -evening, but they were designed more to keep the fellows from getting -“edgy” than to impart instruction. Friday evening Rusty turned from the -blackboard, dusted the chalk from his hands and spoke for ten minutes -very earnestly. What he said was about what all coaches have said on -the eve of big games since coaches and big games have been. Followed -some rather hysterical cheering and then twenty-six lads went back to -the dormitories and wooed slumber. Needless to say, a good many of the -number found slumber not easily won. Rather to his surprise, however, -Joe fell asleep soon after his head touched the pillow, beating Gus by -a good half-hour. - -Munson came in numbers, waving blue-and-gold pennants and cheering -lustily as they took possession of the village. The invaders appeared -very certain of themselves, Joe thought, and his own confidence -lessened appreciably. Even when Gus, viewing the enemy from the steps -of Puffer, scathingly disposed of them as “a bunch of morons” Joe -couldn’t quite get back his last night’s serenity. - -Munson kicked off promptly at two o’clock and Sanford fumbled the ball -on Holman’s sixteen yards, where an enemy end fell on it. It took -Munson just seven plays to put the pigskin over and hang up six points -to her credit. Holman’s was so overcome by the initial disaster that -her efforts to stop the enemy’s charges were almost pathetic. Munson -missed the goal by inches, and Holman’s, taking what comfort she -could, cheered long and loud. Joe watched that first half of the game -from the bench, Dave Hearn playing left half, and Leary right. After -that first score neither goal line was seriously threatened until the -second period was well along. Holman’s, recovering from her shock, -beat back two invasions of her territory short of the thirty-yard line -and finally started one of her own. It looked good until it approached -the opposite thirty. Then it slowed and faltered and, after Brill -had failed to get the ball to Ted Lord on a forward pass, Sanford -sacrificed two yards to get the pigskin in front of the Munson goal. -Brill tried a placement from the thirty-three, but the ball went far -short. Munson didn’t force the playing after that, but kicked on second -down and was content to let the score stay as it was until half-time. -Twice, however, Holman’s started off for the enemy goal and made good -going until well past midfield. There the attack invariably petered -out, for the Munson line was strong and steady. Barring that first -misadventure and its result, the opposing teams played very evenly. If -Munson’s backfield was as slow as Gus had predicted――and hoped――the -fact was not very evident in that half of the contest. Nor was the -Light Green backfield at all dazzling in its movements. An unbiased -observer would probably have said that neither team was playing within -thirty per cent of its best, and he would have been close to the facts. -The second quarter ended with the ball in Munson’s possession on her -own forty-four yards. - -In the locker room at the gymnasium, above the _slap-slap_ of the -rubbers, Rusty’s voice dominated everything, save, perhaps, the pungent -odor of rubbing alcohol and linament, during the last three minutes -of half-time. Rusty had finished with criticism and instruction. Now -he was talking straight from the shoulder. It was old stuff, but it -sounded new and wonderful, and some of the younger fellows choked -while they listened and clenched their hands and set their young -mouths sternly. Rusty didn’t get “sloppy,” but he certainly had them -swallowing hard toward the end and sent them back fighting hot. - -As I’ve said before, there was more in it for Rusty than a mere victory -over the hereditary enemy, and any man who won’t fight hard for his job -doesn’t deserve to hold it! - -Joe took Hearn’s place at left half and Sawyer went in at right end -instead of Leary. Slim Porter, who had been removed in the first period -after some one had stepped ungently on his nose, was reinstated, well -taped of countenance. Otherwise the line-up was the same as had ended -the first half. It took four minutes for Holman’s to recover the -pigskin after the kick-off. Then Sawyer pulled down a punt and was -toppled over on his twenty-one yards after a six-yard dash. Holman’s -played better ball then and played it faster. Sanford abandoned his -safety first policy and called for plays that were ordinarily held back -for desperate moments. For a time they went well, for Munson found it -hard to realize that the enemy had really cut loose from the former -old-style “hit-the-wall” plays. When she awoke Holman’s was on her -thirty-five-yards and still coming. But nothing came of that advance in -the end. Some one was caught off-side and the invader was set back five -yards. Then Hap Ferris made a low pass to Sawyer and the best Sawyer -could do was make it safe for an eight-yard loss. In the end Brill -again tried a place-kick and again failed, and the ball was Munson’s on -her twenty. - -Joe had taken his share of the work and had been as successful as -Sawyer, but his gains had been short. Getting away from the Munson -secondary defense was not an easy feat. Always he was nabbed after -three yards or four, or, as on one memorable occasion, seven. The third -quarter wore toward its end without more scoring. Once Munson tried -a desperate drop-kick from the thirty-two yards, but it went wide. -With four minutes of that third period left, however, the unexpected -happened. - -Munson had slipped in two substitutes, a right guard and a left -half-back, and, not to be outdone, Rusty had responded by replacing -Ferris with Halliday at center. Hap had been used rather roughly, if -one judged by appearances! Munson had the ball on Holman’s forty-two -yards on second down when the unexpected came to pass. She had made -a scant two past Captain Gus and now she was evidently aiming at the -same place. But the new half-back, fresh from the bench, a rangy, -tow-headed lad just oozing enthusiasm, muffed the pass. There was a -frenzied shriek of “_Ball!_ _Ball!_” and a wild scramble at the left of -the enemy line. Then Joe ducked through on the other side, past a guard -whose attention had momentarily strayed, gathered the trickling oval up -from under the feet of the enemy and――went back again! - -Going back again was a masterpiece of subtle strategy, for he was aided -by the selfsame guard who, finding an enemy inside his territory, -promptly thrust him toward whence he had come, failing to observe -until too late the fact that the enemy was taking the ball with him! -Once free from the guard’s attentions, Joe dug his cleats and left -the locality just as fast as his legs would let him, which was quite -fast. When the lost ball was at last discovered, which was within a -much shorter period of time than has been consumed in telling it, it -was well on its way toward the Munson goal line. Joe had cleared the -enemy right end unchallenged. Confusion and pandemonium reigned, and -twenty-one players and at least two officials did their level best to -catch up with Joe. But that was rather a hopeless undertaking, for Joe -had secured a fine start. When he crossed the goal line, after a brisk -dash of fifty-odd yards, he was practically unattended. There was a -great deal of shouting going on as Joe breathlessly placed the pigskin -on the ground and draped himself about it. - -Various green-stockinged youths pounded or squeezed from Joe’s body what little -breath remained in it, and then Gus had his go and babbled something about -“following-the-ball-I’ll-say-so-what-do-you-know-about-it-you-old-thief-eh!” -And all the while he whanged Joe on the back and grinned from ear -to ear. Then comparative silence fell while Brill tried to boot the -pigskin over the bar for the much-needed one point and the Munson -crowd came charging through and spoiled the whole business! That was -disappointing, but at least the score was even and there was still -another period. Joe was glad when the quarter ended a minute later, -for he could rinse out his mouth at the water pail and get some air -back into his lungs. - -Ten minutes later, or maybe eleven――I am speaking of playing and -not elapsed time――it had become generally accepted that 6 to 6 was -to be the final score of that game. Each side was trying hard to be -philosophical and keep in sight the fact that a tied score was better -any day than a defeat. One thing had been shown very conclusively, -which was that, eliminating accidents, neither team was able to score -against the other. Each might advance the ball to its opponent’s -thirty-five or even thirty, but beyond that point there was no going. -Of course accidents had happened and might happen again, but one -couldn’t depend on them. Since the last period had started there had -been several fumbles and near fumbles, for each team was now leavened -with second and third-string players, but the resultant advantages to -the opponent had been slight. There had been penalties inflicted, too, -but they had been inflicted impartially. So far as present results -went, Holman’s and Munson were just where they had been when they -started, absolutely even. Some fifty-five minutes of playing time had -brought advantage to neither the Light Green or the Blue and Gold. - -Joe was still in, and so was Sawyer, but Brill had gone and Sanford had -gone and there were two substitutes on the ends and three strange backs -between them. Both teams were still fighting hard and desperately, but -they were slowing up fast. Under Clinker’s leadership Holman’s lacked -its former aggressiveness and even Gus’s husky imploring couldn’t put -speed into the Light Green. There was a good deal of punting now and -many rather hopeless attempts at forward passes. Most of the latter -grounded, but finally Clinker did get a short heave over the center -of the line to his right end and the latter made a half dozen strides -before he was obliterated. That put the ball on Munson’s forty-eight. -Joe tried a run outside his own left tackle and was stopped and -Sawyer got three through the center. Then Sawyer failed to gain and -Norman, who had taken Brill’s job, punted over the goal line. Some one -proclaimed three minutes to play as Munson lined up on her twenty. One -easily stopped plunge at the left of center, and Munson booted from her -ten-yard line. It was a short punt and it went out at the thirty-seven. -The Holman’s stands came to life again with a hoarse cheer of triumph. -Norman got a scant yard and Sawyer took two. Then Joe scampered wide -around his right and added two more before he was run out of bounds. -It was fourth down and, since Norman was no field-goal kicker, he -punted from near the forty. By some freak of fortune the ball went the -whole way and again fell behind the goal line, and again Munson touched -it back and brought it out to her twenty. The time keeper said one -minute and forty seconds. - -Well, much may happen in one and two-thirds minutes, and in this -particular one and two-thirds minutes much did. Munson decided to take -no risk and her left half went back to kicking position. Very, very -desperately Holman’s strove to break through and block that punt, -but just as desperately the Blue-and-Gold line held her off. Yet the -Holman’s determination had its effect. The enemy center passed low -and the punter was hurried. The ball went high in the air and there -a vagrant breeze took it and wafted it back toward the Munson goal. -When it descended it was no further from where it had begun its flight -than the twenty-five-yard line. It was Norman who claimed it, although -half the Holman’s players might have caught it as easily. The Munson -ends, indeed most of the Munson team, were waiting to down the catcher. -Which was friend and which was enemy was very hard to determine in that -moment. Then the ball came down, lazily, turning end over end. Norman -stepped back a foot or so, ready to seize it and plunge ahead. Perhaps -he thought too much of the plunge and not enough of the catch, for -the ball came down not into his hands but against his shoulder. From -there it arched to the left, well out of the congested district, on a -ten-yard flight. - -Joe had been watching the ball quite as attentively as any one, perhaps -more attentively since watching the ball had become something of a -habit with him, but he had not pushed into the mêlée. Instead, he was -well to the left of it, and from there he was better able to follow -the ball’s supplementary flight. Consequently, when he saw it coming -in his direction he met it half way. He didn’t have to fight for its -possession, for the nearest claimant was fully three yards distant -when he wrapped his hands about it. Between him and the goal lay -some twenty-seven yards and, theoretically speaking, eleven enemies. -Actually only about half that number were in position to dispute his -passage, but they were earnest and determined, and Joe’s work was cut -out for him. He sidestepped one, and then another. One of his own team -disposed of a third and then Joe was dodging this way and that, now -perilously close to the side line, but always going ahead and putting -one white streak after another behind him. - -He was close to the ten when disaster almost overtook him in the shape -of a hurtling Munson Lineman. If the enemy had come at him in less -haste the result might have been different. As it was, the Munson -fellow’s idea appeared to be to knock Joe flat by the force of the -concussion and make his tackle afterwards. That is where he made his -mistake, for, although they met and Joe staggered from the impact, the -latter avoided more than half the force of the other’s body by spinning -on his heel. There was one second of suspense after that when Joe felt -a hand at his ankle, but he was able to pull away before the clutching -fingers found a hold. Then the enemy was all about him, it seemed, and -he had the ball against the pit of his stomach, his head down and his -feet pushing the last few yards of trampled turf behind him. The truth -is that, at the end, there were far more friends than foes around him, -and that Joe’s final heroic effort to cross the line was made with Gus -Billings fairly butting him on! But cross it he did, and that is the -main thing! - -And while Holman’s went crazy with joy and flocked, dancing and -cavorting, along the side line, while Joe fought for breath that -wouldn’t come, while cheers for the Light Green assaulted the sky, -Norman, who had seldom if ever kicked a goal in all his life, now, just -because no one cared whether he succeeded or didn’t, sent the pigskin -over the bar as prettily as if the game depended on it! - -There were many happy persons around school that evening. There was the -whole student body in general, and there were the members of the team -in particular. And then there was Gus, who declared a great many times -that any one who had ever said that Joe wasn’t a great football player -was nothing more or less than a moron! Because, no matter how good a -guy was, if he didn’t follow the ball―― - -And, of course, there was Joe himself, who, while giving Luck its due, -still dared to take a little credit for what had happened. - -And then there was Rusty. - - -THE END - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - ――Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text――this - e-text is public domain in the country of publication. - - ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - ――Obvious printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were - silently corrected. - - ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. - - ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Follow the Ball, by Ralph Henry Barbour - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOLLOW THE BALL *** - -***** This file should be named 60540-0.txt or 60540-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/5/4/60540/ - -Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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