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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..178dcf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65819 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65819) diff --git a/old/65819-0.txt b/old/65819-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9e03782..0000000 --- a/old/65819-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8196 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Purple Pennant, 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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Purple Pennant - -Author: Ralph Henry Barbour - -Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell - -Release Date: July 10, 2021 [eBook #65819] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by The Internet Archive/American - Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PURPLE PENNANT *** - - - - -[Illustration: “Like a white streak, Perry breasted the string”] - - - - - THE - PURPLE PENNANT - - BY - RALPH HENRY BARBOUR - - AUTHOR OF “THE SECRET PLAY,” “THE LUCKY SEVENTH,” ETC. - - - [Illustration] - - - ILLUSTRATED BY - NORMAN P. ROCKWELL - - - NEW YORK AND LONDON - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - 1916 - - - - - Copyright, 1916, by - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - - Printed in the United States of America - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - I. FUDGE IS INTERRUPTED 1 - II. THE TRY-OUT 11 - III. THE SHADOW ON THE CURTAIN 23 - IV. THE ODE TO SPRING 38 - V. PERRY REMEMBERS 50 - VI. THE FALSE MUSTACHE 61 - VII. FUDGE REVOLTS 74 - VIII. LANNY STUDIES STEAM ENGINEERING 89 - IX. THE NEW SIGN 99 - X. THE BORROWED ROLLER 110 - XI. GORDON DESERTS HIS POST 120 - XII. ON DICK’S PORCH 130 - XIII. FOILED! 142 - XIV. THE GAME WITH NORRISVILLE 152 - XV. THE WHITE SCAR 166 - XVI. SEARS MAKES A SUGGESTION 179 - XVII. THE SQUAD AT WORK 190 - XVIII. THE OFFICER AT THE DOOR 202 - XIX. THE TRAIN-ROBBER IS WARNED 213 - XX. MR. ADDICKS EXPLAINS 226 - XXI. ON THE TRACK 240 - XXII. THE NEW COACH 258 - XXIII. OUT AT THE PLATE! 273 - XXIV. CLEARFIELD CONCEDES THE MEET 290 - XXV. SPRINGDALE LEADS 300 - XXVI. THE PURPLE PENNANT 311 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - “Like a white streak, Perry breasted the string” _Frontispiece_ - - FACING PAGE - - “‘On your mark!... Set!... Go!’” 18 - - “‘What’s that?’ asked Perry, startled” 220 - - “Lanny, dropping to his knees on the plate, got it a foot - from the ground” 286 - - - - -THE PURPLE PENNANT - - - - -CHAPTER I - -FUDGE IS INTERRUPTED - - -“‘Keys,’” murmured Fudge Shaw dreamily, “‘please’――‘knees’――‘breeze’――I’ve -used that――‘pease’――‘sneeze’――Oh, piffle!” His inspired gaze returned to -the tablet before him and he read aloud the lines inscribed thereon: - - “O Beauteous Spring, thou art, I ween, - The best of all the Seasons, - Because you clothe the Earth with green - And for numerous other reasons. - - “You make the birds sing in the trees, - The April breeze to blow, - The Sun to shine――――” - -“‘The Sun to shine――――,’” he muttered raptly, “‘The Sun to shine’; -‘squeeze’――‘tease’――‘fleas’―――― Gee, I wish I hadn’t tried to rhyme all -the lines. Now, let’s see: ‘You make the birds――――’” - -“O Fudge! Fudge Shaw!” - -Fudge raised his head and peered through the young leaves of the -apple-tree in which he was perched, along the side yard to where, -leaning over the fence, was a lad of about Fudge’s age. The visitor -alternately directed his gaze toward the tree and the house, for it -was Sunday afternoon and Perry Hull was doubtful of the propriety of -hailing his friend in week-day manner. - -“Hello, Perry, come on in!” called Fudge. And thereupon he detached the -“Ode to Spring” from the tablet, hastily folded it and put it in his -pocket. When Perry climbed the ladder which led to the platform some -eight feet above the ground Fudge was in the act of closing a Latin -book with a tired air. - -“What are you doing?” asked Perry. He was a nice-looking chap of -fifteen, with steady dark-brown eyes, hair a shade or two lighter and a -capable and alert countenance. He swung himself lithely over the rail -instead of crawling under, as was Fudge’s custom, and seated himself on -the narrow bench beyond the books. - -“Sort of studying,” answered Fudge, ostentatiously shoving the books -further away and scowling distastefully at them. “Where have you been?” - -“Just moseying around. Peach of a day, isn’t it?” - -It was. It had rained until nearly dinner time, and grass and leaves -were still beaded with moisture which an ardent April sun was doing its -best to burn away. It was the first spring-like day in over a week of -typical April weather during which Clearfield had remained under gray -skies. Fudge assented to Perry’s observation, but it was to be seen -that his thoughts were elsewhere. His lips moved soundlessly. Perry -viewed him with surprise and curiosity, but before he could demand an -explanation of his host’s abstraction Fudge burst forth triumphantly. - -“‘B-b-bees!’” exclaimed Fudge. (Excitement always caused him to -stammer, a fact which his friends were aware of and frequently made use -of for their entertainment.) Perry involuntarily ducked his head and -looked around. - -“Where?” he asked apprehensively. - -“Nowhere.” Fudge chuckled. “I was just thinking of something.” - -“Huh!” Perry settled back again. “You’re crazy, I guess. Better come -for a walk and you’ll feel better.” - -“Can’t.” Fudge looked gloomily at the books. “Got to study.” - -“Then I’ll beat it.” - -“Hold on, can’t you? You don’t have to go yet. I――there isn’t such -an awful hurry.” The truth was that Fudge was not an enthusiastic -pedestrian, a fact due partly to his physical formation and partly to -a disposition contemplative rather than active. Nature had endowed -Fudge――his real name, by the way, was William――with a rotund body and -capable but rather short legs. Walking for the mere sake of locomotion -didn’t appeal to him. He would have denied indignantly that he was -lazy, and, to do him justice, he wasn’t. With Fudge it was less a -matter of laziness than discrimination. Give him something to do -that interested him――such as playing baseball or football――and Fudge -would willingly, enthusiastically work his short legs for all that -was in them, but this thing of deliberately tiring oneself out with -no sensible end in view――well, Fudge couldn’t see it! He had a round -face from which two big blue eyes viewed the world with a constant -expression of surprise. His hair was sandy-red, and he was fifteen, -almost sixteen, years old. - -“It’s too nice a day to sit around and do nothing,” objected Perry. -“Why don’t you get your studying done earlier?” - -“I meant to, but I had some writing to do.” Fudge looked important. -Perry smiled slightly. “I finished that story I told you about.” - -“Did you?” Perry strove to make his question sound interested. “Are -you going to have it printed?” - -“Maybe,” replied the other carelessly. “It’s a pippin, all right, -Perry! It’s nearly fourteen thousand words long! What do you know about -that, son? Maybe I’ll send it to the _Reporter_ and let them publish -it. Or maybe I’ll send it to one of the big New York magazines. I -haven’t decided yet. Dick says I ought to have it typewritten; that the -editors won’t read it unless it is. But it costs like anything. Morris -Brent has a typewriter and he said I could borrow it, but I never wrote -on one of the things and I suppose it would take me a month to do it, -eh? Seems to me if the editors want good stories they can’t afford to -be so plaguey particular. Besides, my writing’s pretty easy reading -just as soon as you get used to it.” - -“You might typewrite the first two or three sheets,” suggested Perry, -with a chuckle, “and then perhaps the editor would be so anxious to -know how it ended he’d keep right on. What are you going to call it, -Fudge?” - -Fudge shook his head. “I’ve got two or three good titles. ‘The -Middleton Mystery’ is one of them. Then there’s ‘Young Sleuth’s -Greatest Case.’ I guess that’s too long, eh?” - -“I like the first one better.” - -“Yes. Then I thought of ‘Tracked by Anarchists.’ How’s that sound to -you?” - -“‘The Meredith Mystery’ is the best,” replied Perry judicially. - -“‘Middleton,’” corrected Fudge. “Yep, I guess it’ll be that. I told -that fellow Potter about it and he said if I’d let him take it he’d -see about getting it published in the _Reporter_. He’s a sort of an -editor, you know. But I guess the _Reporter_ isn’t much of a paper, -and a writer who’s just starting out has to be careful not to cheapen -himself, you see.” - -“Will he pay you for it?” asked Perry. - -“He didn’t say. I don’t suppose so. Lots of folks don’t get paid for -their first things, though. Look at――look at Scott; and――and Thackeray, -and――lots of ’em! You don’t suppose they got paid at first, do you?” - -“Didn’t they?” asked Perry in some surprise. - -“Oh, maybe Thackeray got a few dollars,” hedged Fudge, “but what was -that? Look what he used to get for his novels afterwards!” - -Perry obligingly appeared deeply impressed, although he secretly -wondered what Thackeray _did_ get afterwards. However, he forebore -to ask, which was just as well, I fancy. Instead, tiring of Fudge’s -literary affairs, he observed: “Well, I hope they print it for you, -anyway. And maybe they’ll take another one and pay for that. Say, -aren’t you going out for baseball, Fudge?” - -“Oh, I’m going out, I guess, but it won’t do any good. I don’t intend -to sit around on the bench half the spring and then get fired. The only -place I’d stand any chance of is the outfield, and I suppose I don’t -hit well enough to make it. You going to try?” - -Perry shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I can’t play much. Warner -Jones told me the other day that if I’d come out he’d give me a good -chance. I suppose he thinks I can play baseball because I was on the -Eleven.” - -“Well, gee, if you could get to first you’d steal all the other bases, -I’ll bet,” said Fudge admiringly. “You sure can run, Perry!” - -“Y-yes, and that makes me think that maybe I could do something on the -Track Team. What do you think, Fudge?” - -“Bully scheme! Go out for the sprints! Ever try the hundred?” - -“No, I’ve never run on the track at all. How fast ought I to run the -hundred yards, Fudge, to have a show?” - -“Oh, anything under eleven seconds would do, I suppose. Maybe ten and -four-fifths. Know what you can do it in?” - -“No, I never ran it. I’d like to try, though.” - -“Why don’t you? Say, I’ve got a stop-watch in the house. You wait here -and I’ll get it and we’ll go over to the track and――――” - -“Pshaw, I couldn’t run in these clothes!” - -“Well, you can take your coat and vest off, can’t you? And put on a -pair of sneakers? Of course, you can’t run as fast, but you can show -what you can do. Perry, I’ll just bet you anything you’ve got the -making of a fine little sprinter! You wait here; I won’t be a minute.” - -“But it’s Sunday, Fudge, and the field will be locked, and――and you’ve -got your lessons――――” - -“They can wait,” replied Fudge, dropping to the ground and making off -toward the side door. “We’ll try the two-twenty, too, Perry!” - -He disappeared and a door slammed. Perry frowned in the direction of -the house. “Silly chump!” he muttered. Then he smiled. After all, why -not? He did want to know if he could run, and, if they could get into -the field, which wasn’t likely, since it was Sunday and the gates would -be locked, it would be rather fun to try it! He wondered just how fast -ten and four-fifths seconds was. He wished he hadn’t done so much -walking since dinner, for he was conscious that his legs were a bit -tired. At that moment in his reflections there came a subdued whistle -from the house and Fudge waved to him. - -“Come on,” he called in a cautious whisper. “I’ve got it. And the -sneakers, too.” He glanced a trifle apprehensively over his shoulder -while he awaited Perry’s arrival and when the latter had joined him he -led the way along the side path in a quiet and unostentatious manner -suggesting a desire to depart unobserved. Once out of sight of the -house, however, his former enthusiasm returned. “We’ll climb over the -fence,” he announced. “I know a place where it isn’t hard. Of course, -we ought to have a pistol to start with, but I guess it will do if I -just say ‘Go!’” He stopped indecisively. “Gordon has a revolver,” he -said thoughtfully. “We might borrow it. Only, maybe he isn’t home. I -haven’t seen him all day.” - -“Never mind, we don’t need it,” said Perry, pulling him along. “He’d -probably want to go along with us, Fudge, and I don’t want any -audience. I dare say I won’t be able to run fast at all.” - -“Well, you mustn’t expect too much the first time,” warned the other. -“A chap’s got to be in condition, you know. You’ll have to train -and――and all that. Ever do any hurdling?” - -“No, and I don’t think I could.” - -“It isn’t hard once you’ve caught the knack of it. I was only thinking -that if you had plenty of steam you might try sprints and hurdles -both. All we’d have to do would be to set the hurdles up. I know where -they’re kept. Then――――” - -“Now, look here,” laughed Perry, “I’m willing to make a fool of myself -trying the hundred-yard dash, Fudge, but I’m not going to keep you -entertained all the rest of the afternoon.” - -“All right, we’ll just try the hundred and the two-twenty.” - -“No, we won’t either. We’ll just try the hundred. Will those shoes fit -me? And oughtn’t they to have spikes?” - -“Sure, they ought, but they haven’t. We’ll have to make allowance for -that, I guess. And they’ll have to fit you because they’re all we’ve -got. I guess you wear about the same size that I do. Here we are! Now -we’ll go around to the Louise Street side; there’s a place there we can -climb easily.” - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE TRY-OUT - - -The High School Athletic Field――it was officially known as Brent -Field――occupied two whole blocks in the newer part of town. The school -had used it for a number of years, but only last summer, through -the generosity of Mr. Jonathan Brent, Clearfield’s richest and most -prominent citizen, had it come into actual possession of the field. -The gift had been as welcome as unexpected and had saved the school -from the difficult task of finding a new location for its athletic -activities. But, unfortunately, the possession of a large tract of -ground in the best residential part of the town was proving to have its -drawbacks. The taxes were fairly large, repairs to stands and fences -required a constant outlay, the field itself, while level enough, was -far from smooth, and the cinder track, a make-shift affair at the -beginning, stood badly in need of reconstruction. Add to these expenses -the minor ones of water rent, insurance on buildings and care-taking -and you will see that the Athletic Association had something to think -about. - -The town folks always spoke of it as “the town,” although it was, -as a matter of fact, a city and boasted of over seventeen thousand -inhabitants――supported the High School athletic events, notably -football and baseball, generously enough, but it was already evident to -those in charge that the receipts from gridiron and diamond attractions -would barely keep the field as it was and would not provide money for -improvements. There had been some talk of an endowment fund from Mr. -Brent, but whether that gentleman had ever said anything to warrant -the rumor or whether it had been started by someone more hopeful than -veracious was a matter for speculation. At any rate, no endowment fund -had so far materialized and the Athletic Committee’s finances were at -a low ebb. Two sections of grandstand had been replaced in the fall, -and that improvement promised to be the last for some time, unless, -as seemed improbable, the Committee evolved some plan whereby to -replenish its treasury. Various schemes had been suggested, such as a -public canvass of the town and school. To this, however, Mr. Grayson, -the Principal, had objected. It was not, he declared, right to ask the -citizens to contribute funds for such a purpose. Nor would he allow -a petition to the Board of Education. In fact, Mr. Grayson as good -as said that now that the school had been generously presented with -an athletic field it was up to the school to look after it. Raising -money amongst the students he had no objection to, but the amount -obtainable in that manner was too small to make it worth while. The -plan of raising the price of admission to baseball and football from -twenty-five cents to fifty was favored by some, while others feared -that it would keep so many away from the contests that there would -be no profit in it. In short, the Committee was facing a difficult -problem and with no solution in sight. And the field, from its patched, -rickety, high board fence to grandstands and dressing-rooms, loudly -demanded succor. Fudge voiced the general complaint when, having -without difficulty mounted the fence and dropped to the soggy turf -inside, followed more lithely by Perry Hull, he viewed the cinder track -with disfavor. The recent rain had flooded it from side to side, and, -since it was lower than the ground about it and had been put down with -little or no provision for drainage, inch-deep puddles still lingered -in the numerous depressions. - -“We can’t practice here,” said Perry. - -“Wouldn’t that agonize you?” demanded Fudge. “Gee, what’s the good -of having an athletic field if you can’t keep it up? This thing is -g-g-going to be a regular w-w-white elephant!” - -“It looks pretty soppy, doesn’t it?” asked Perry. “I guess we’d better -wait until it’s drier. I don’t mind running, but I wasn’t counting on -having to swim!” - -“Maybe it’s better on the straightaway,” responded Fudge more -cheerfully. “We’ll go over and see.” - -As luck had it, it was drier on the far side of the field, and Fudge -advanced the plea that by keeping close to the outer board Perry could -get along without splashing much. Perry, however, ruefully considered -his Sunday trousers and made objections. - -“But it isn’t mud,” urged Fudge. “It’s just a little water. That won’t -hurt your trousers a bit. And you can reef them up some, too. Be a -sport, Perry! Gee, I’d do it in a minute if I could!” - -“Guess that’s about what I’ll do it in,” said the other. “Well, all -right. Here goes. Give me the sneakers.” - -“Here they are. Guess we’d better go down to the seats and change them, -though. It’s too damp to sit down here.” - -So they walked to the grandstand at the turn and Perry pulled off his -boots and tried the sneakers on. They were a little too large, but he -thought they would do. Fudge suggested stuffing some paper in the -toes, but as there was no paper handy that plan was abandoned. Perry’s -hat, coat and vest were laid beside his boots and he turned up the -bottoms of his trousers. Then they walked along the track, skirting -puddles or jumping over them. Fortunately, they had the field to -themselves, thanks to locked gates, something Perry was thankful for -when Fudge, discouraging his desire to have the event over with at -once, insisted that he should prance up and down the track and warm up. - -“You can’t run decently until you’ve got your legs warm and your -muscles limber,” declared Fudge wisely. “And you’d better try a few -starts, too.” - -So, protestingly, Perry danced around where he could find a dry -stretch, lifting his knees high in the manner illustrated by Fudge, and -then allowed the latter to show him how to crouch for the start. - -“Put your right foot up to the line,” instructed Fudge. “Here, -I’ll scratch a line across for you. There. Now put your foot up to -that――your _right_ foot, silly! That’s your left! Now put your left -knee alongside it and your hands down. That’s it, only you want to -dig a bit of a hole back there for your left foot, so you’ll get away -quick. Just scrape out the cinders a little. All right. Now when I -say ‘Set,’ you come up and lean forward until the weight comes on your -front foot and hands; most on your foot; your hands are just to steady -yourself with. That’s the trick. Now then; ‘On your mark!’ Wait! I -didn’t say ‘Set!’” - -“Oh, well, cut out the trimmings,” grumbled Perry. “I can’t stay like -this forever. Besides, I’d rather start on the other foot, anyway.” - -“All right; some fellows do,” replied Fudge, untroubled, neglecting to -explain that he had made a mistake. Perry made the change and expressed -his satisfaction. - -“That’s more like it. Say, how do you happen to know so much about it, -Fudge?” - -“Observation, son. Now, all right? Ready to try it? Set!... Go!” - -Perry went, but he stumbled for the first three or four steps and lost -his stride completely. - -“You had your weight on your hands instead of your feet,” commented the -instructor. “Try it again.” - -He tried it many times, at last becoming quite interested in the -problem of getting away quickly and steadily, and finally Fudge -declared himself satisfied. “Now I’ll stand back here a ways where I -can start you and at the same time see when you cross the line down -there. Of course, we ought to have another fellow here to help, but -I guess I can manage all right.” He set his stop-watch, composed his -features into a stern frown and retired some twenty yards back from the -track and half that distance nearer the finish line. “On your mark!” -called Fudge. “Set!... Go!” - -Perry sped from the mark only to hear Fudge’s arresting voice. “Sorry, -Perry, but I forgot to start the watch that time. Try it again.” - -“That’s a fine trick! I had a bully getaway,” complained the sprinter. -“Make it good this time, Fudge; I’m getting dog-tired!” - -“I will. Now, then! On your mark!... Set!... Go!” - -[Illustration: “‘On your mark!... Set!... Go!’”] - -Off leaped Perry again, not quite so nicely this time, and down the wet -path he sped, splashing through the puddles, head back, legs twinkling. -And, as though trying to make pace for him, Fudge raced along on the -turf in a valiant endeavor to judge the finish. Perry’s Sunday trousers -made a gray streak across the line, Fudge pressed convulsively on the -stem of the watch and the trial was over! - -“Wh-what was it?” inquired Perry breathlessly as he walked back. Fudge -was staring puzzledly at the dial. - -“I made it twelve seconds,” he responded dubiously. - -“Twelve! And you said I’d ought to do it under eleven!” Perry viewed -him discouragedly. - -“Well, maybe I didn’t snap it just when I should have,” said the timer. -“It’s hard to see unless you’re right at the line.” - -“You must have! I’ll bet anything I did it better than twelve. Don’t -you think I did?” - -“Well, it looked to me as if you were going pretty fast,” answered -Fudge cautiously. “But those trousers, and not having any spikes, and -the track being so wet――Gee, but you did get splashed, didn’t you?” - -“I should say so,” replied Perry, observing his trousers disgustedly. -“The water even went into my face! Say, let’s try it again, Fudge, and -you stand here at the finish.” - -“All right, but how’ll I start you?” - -“Wave a handkerchief or something?” - -“I’ve got it. I’ll clap a couple of sticks together.” So Fudge set out -to find his sticks while Perry, rather winded, seated himself on the -stand. Fudge finally came back with the required articles and Perry -declared himself rested and ready for another trial. “I’ll clap the -sticks together first for you to get set and then for the start. Like -this.” Fudge illustrated. “Suppose you can hear it?” - -“Sure.” Perry proceeded back to the beginning of the straightaway and -Fudge stationed himself at the finish, scuffling a line across the -track for his better guidance. Then, while the sprinter was getting his -crouch, he experimented with slapping the sticks and snapping the watch -at the same instant, a rather difficult proceeding. - -“All ready!” shouted Perry, poised on finger-tips and knee. - -“All right!” called Fudge in response. He examined his watch, fixed -a finger over the stem, took a deep breath and clapped the sticks. -Perry set. Another clap and a simultaneous jab at the watch, and Perry -was racing down the track. Fudge’s eyes took one fleeting look at the -runner and then fixed themselves strainedly on the line he had drawn -across the cinders. Nearer and nearer came the _scrunch_ of the flying -sneakers, there was a sudden blur of gray in Fudge’s vision and he -snapped the watch. Perry turned and trotted anxiously back. - -“Well?” he asked. - -“Better,” replied Fudge. “Of course, the track’s awfully slow――――” - -“How much? Let’s see?” - -Fudge yielded the watch and Perry examined it. “Eleven and two-fifths!” -he shouted protestingly. “Say, this thing’s crazy! I know mighty well -I didn’t run nearly so fast as I did the first time!” - -“I didn’t snap it soon enough the other time,” explained Fudge. -“Honest, Perry, eleven and two-fifths isn’t half bad. Why, look at the -slow track and your long trousers――――” - -“Yes, and they weigh a ton, they’re so wet,” grumbled Perry. “And so -do these shoes. I’m going to try it some time when the track’s dry and -I’ve got regular running things on. I suppose eleven and two-fifths -_isn’t_ terribly bad, considering!” - -“Bad! It’s mighty good,” said Fudge warmly. “Why, look here, Perry, if -you can do it in that time to-day you can do it nearly a second faster -on a dry track and――and all! You see if you can’t. I’ll bet you you’ll -be a regular sprinter by the time we meet Springdale!” - -“Honest, Fudge?” - -“Honest to goodness! To-morrow you put your name down for the Track -Team and get yourself some running things. I’ll go along with you if -you like. I know just what you ought to have.” - -“I don’t suppose I’ll really have any show for the team,” said Perry -modestly. “But it’ll be pretty good fun. Say, Fudge, I didn’t know I -could run as fast as I did that first time. It seemed to me I was -going like the very dickens! It――it’s mighty interesting, isn’t it?” - -“Yes,” replied Fudge, as Perry donned his things. “You don’t want to -try the two-twenty or the hurdles, do you?” - -“I should say not! I’m tuckered out. I’m going to try the two-twenty -some day, though. I don’t think I’d care about hurdling.” - -“You can’t tell,” murmured Fudge thoughtfully. - -Later, when they had once more surmounted the fence and were heading -toward B Street, Fudge, who had said little for many minutes, observed: -“I wonder, Perry, if a fellow wouldn’t have more fun with the Track -Team than with the Nine. I’ve a good mind to go in for it.” - -“Why don’t you?” asked Perry, encouragingly eager. “What would you try? -Running or――or what?” His gaze unconsciously strayed over his friend’s -rotund figure. - -“N-no,” replied Fudge hesitantly. “I don’t think so. I might go in for -the mile, maybe. I don’t know yet. I’m just thinking of it. I’d have to -study a bit. Perhaps the weights would be my line. Ever put the shot?” -Perry shook his head. “Neither have I, but I’ll bet I could. All it -takes is practice. Say, wouldn’t it be funny if you and I both made the -team?” - -“It would be dandy,” declared Perry. “Do you suppose there’d be any -chance of it?” - -“Why not?” asked Fudge cheerfully. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE SHADOW ON THE CURTAIN - - -The two boys parted at Main and B Streets, Fudge to loiter thoughtfully -southward under the budding maples and Perry to continue briskly -on along the wider thoroughfare to where, almost at the corner of -G Street, a small yellow house stood in a diminutive yard behind a -decaying picket fence. Over the gate, which had stood open ever since -Perry had grown too old to enjoy swinging on it, was a square lantern -supported on an iron arch. At night a dim light burned in it, calling -the passer’s attention to the lettering on the front: - - NO. 7――DR. HULL――OFFICE. - -Beside the front door a second sign proclaimed the house to be the -abode of Matthew P. Hull, M. D. - -Nearby was an old-fashioned bell-pull and, just below it, a more modern -button. Above the latter were the words “Night Bell.” The house looked -homelike and scrupulously clean, but evidences of disrepair were -abundant. The bases of the four round pillars supporting the roof of -the porch which ran across the front were rotting, the steps creaked -ominously under Perry’s feet and the faded yellow paint was blistered -and cracked. - -Dr. Hull only rented the house, and the owner, since the retail -business district had almost surrounded it and he expected to soon -sell, was extremely chary of repairs. Perry’s father had lived there so -long that he hated the thought of moving. He had grown very fond of the -place, a fondness shared to a lesser extent by Mrs. Hull and scarcely -at all by Perry. But Dr. Hull’s motives in remaining there were not -wholly sentimental. He had slowly and arduously accumulated a fair -practice and, now that the town was over-supplied with physicians, he -feared that a change of location would lose him his clients. Dr. Hull -was not an old man, but he was forty-odd and rather of the old-style, -and shook his head over the pushing methods of the newcomers. Perry -assured him that it would be a good thing if he did lose some of his -present practice, since half of it brought him little or no money, and -that in a better location he could secure a better class of patients. -But Perry wasn’t very certain of this, while his mother, who sighed -secretly for a home where the plaster didn’t crumble nor the floors -creak, had even less faith in the Doctor’s ability to begin over again. - -Perry glanced through the open door of the tiny waiting room on the -left as he hung up his cap and, finding it empty and the further door -ajar, knew that his father was out. He went on up the stairs, which -complained at almost every footfall, and stole noiselessly down the -narrow hall to his own room. His mother’s door was closed and this was -the hour when, on Sundays, she enjoyed what she termed “forty winks.” -Perry’s room was small and lighted by three narrow windows set close -together. While they admitted light they afforded but little view, for -beyond the shallow back-yard loomed the side wall of a five-storied -brick building which fronted on G Street. Directly on a level with -Perry’s windows was Curry’s Glove factory, occupying the second floor -of the building. Below was a bakery. Above were offices; a dentist’s, a -lawyer’s, and several that were empty or changed tenants so frequently -that Perry couldn’t keep track of them. In winter the light that came -through the three windows was faint and brief, but at other seasons the -sunlight managed somehow to find its way there. This afternoon a golden -ray still lingered on the table, falling athwart the strapped pile of -school books and spilling over to the stained green felt. - -Perry seated himself at the table, put an elbow beside the pile of -books and, cupping chin in hand, gazed thoughtfully down into the yard. -There was a lean and struggling lilac bush against one high fence and -its green leaves were already unfolding. That, reflected the boy, meant -that spring was really here again at last. It was already nearly the -middle of April. Then came May and June, and then the end of school. -He sighed contentedly at the thought. Not that he didn’t get as much -pleasure out of school as most fellows, but there comes a time, when -buds are swelling and robins are hopping and breezes blow warmly, when -the idea of spending six hours of the finest part of the day indoors -becomes extremely distasteful. And that time had arrived. - -Perry turned to glance with sudden hostility at the piled-up books. -What good did it do a fellow, anyway, to learn a lot of Latin and -algebra and physics and――and all the rest of the stuff? If he only -knew what he was going to be when he grew up it might save a lot of -useless trouble! Until a year ago he had intended to follow in his -father’s footsteps, but of late the profession of medicine had failed -to hold his enthusiasm. It seemed to him that doctors had to work very -hard and long for terribly scant returns in the way of either money -or fame. No, he wouldn’t be a doctor. Lawyers had a far better time -of it; so did bankers and――and almost everyone. Sometimes he thought -that engineering was the profession for him. He would go to Boston -or New York and enter a technical school and learn civil or mining -engineering. Mining engineers especially had a fine, adventurous life -of it. And he wouldn’t have to spend all the rest of his life in -Clearfield then. - -Clearfield was all right, of course; Perry had been born in it and -was loyal to it; but there was a whole big lot of the world that he’d -like to see! He got up and pulled an atlas from the lower shelf of his -book-case and spread it open. Colorado! Arizona! Nevada! Those were -names for you! And look at all the territory out there that didn’t have -a mark on it! Prairies and deserts and plateaus! Miles and miles and -miles of them without a town or a railroad or anything! Gee, it would -be great to live in that part of the world, he told himself. Adventures -would be thick as blueberries out there. Back here nothing ever -happened to a fellow. He wondered if it would be possible to persuade -his father to move West, to some one of those fascinating towns with -the highly romantic names; like Manzanola or Cotopaxi or Painted Rock. -His thoughts were far afield now and, while his gaze was fixed on the -lilac bush below, his eyes saw wonderful scenes that were very, very -foreign to Clearfield. The sunlight stole away from the windows and the -shadows gathered in the little yard. The room grew dark. - -Just how long Perry would have sat there and dreamed of far-spread -prairies and dawn-flushed deserts and awesome cañons had not an -interruption occurred, there’s no saying. Probably, though, until his -mother summoned him to the Sunday night supper. And that, since it was -a frugal repast of cold dishes and awaited the Doctor’s presence, might -not have been announced until seven o’clock. What did rouse him from -his dreaming was the sudden appearance of a light in one of the third -floor windows of the brick building. It shone for a moment only, for a -hand almost immediately pulled down a shade, but its rays were bright -enough to interrupt the boy’s visions and bring his thoughts confusedly -back. - -When you’ve been picturing yourself a cowboy on the Western plains, -a cowboy with a picturesque broad-brimmed sombrero, leather chaps, -a flannel shirt and a handkerchief knotted about your neck, it is -naturally a bit surprising to suddenly see just such a vision before -your eyes. And that’s what happened to Perry. No sooner was the shade -drawn at the opposite window than upon it appeared the silhouette -of as cowboyish a cowboy as ever rode through sage-brush! Evidently -the light was in the center of the room and the occupant was standing -between light and window, standing so that for a brief moment his -figure was thrown in sharp relief against the shade, and Perry, staring -unbelievingly, saw the black shadow of a broad felt hat whose crown -was dented to a pyramid shape, a face with clean-cut features and a -generous mustache and, behind the neck, the knot of a handkerchief! -Doubtless the flannel shirt was there, too, and, perhaps, the leather -cuffs properly decorated with porcupine quills, but Perry couldn’t be -sure of this, for before he had time to look below the knotted bandana -the silhouette wavered, lengthened oddly and faded from sight, leaving -Perry for an instant doubtful of his vision! - -“Now what do you know about that?” he murmured. “A regular cowboy, by -ginger! What’s he doing over there, I wonder. And here I was thinking -about him! Anyway, about cowboys! Gee, that’s certainly funny! I wish -I could have seen if he wore a revolver on his hip! Maybe he’ll come -back.” - -But he didn’t show himself again, although Perry sat on in the darkness -of his little room for the better part of a half-hour, staring eagerly -and fascinatedly at the lighted window across the twilight. The shade -still made a yellowish oblong in the surrounding gloom of the otherwise -blank wall when his mother’s voice came to him from below summoning him -to supper and he left his vigil unwillingly and went downstairs. - -Dr. Hull had returned and supper was waiting on the red cloth that -always adorned the table on Sunday nights. Perry was so full of -his strange coincidence that he hardly waited for the Doctor to -finish saying grace before he told about the vision. Rather to his -disappointment, neither his father nor mother showed much interest, but -perhaps that was because he neglected to tell them that he had been -thinking of cowboys at the time. There was no special reason why he -should have told them other than that he suspected his mother of a lack -of sympathy on the subject of cowboys and the Wild West. - -“I guess,” said the Doctor, helping to the cold roast lamb and having -quite an exciting chase along the back of the platter in pursuit of a -runaway sprig of parsley, “I guess your cowboy would have looked like -most anyone else if you’d had a look at him. Shadows play queer tricks, -Perry.” - -Dr. Hull was tall and thin, and he stooped quite perceptibly. Perhaps -the stoop came from carrying his black bag about day after day, for -the Doctor had never attained to the dignity of a carriage. When -he had to have one he hired it from Stewart, the liveryman. He had -a kindly face, but he usually looked tired and had a disconcerting -habit of dropping off to sleep in the middle of a conversation or, -not infrequently, half-way through a meal. Perry was not unlike his -father as to features. He had the same rather short and very straight -nose and the same nice mouth, but he had obtained his brown eyes from -his mother. Dr. Hull’s eyes were pale blue-gray and he had a fashion -of keeping them only a little more than half open, which added to his -appearance of weariness. He always dressed in a suit of dark clothes -which looked black without actually being black. For years he had had -his suits made for him by the same unstylish little tailor who dwelt, -like a spider in a hole, under the Union Restaurant on Common Street. -Whether the suits, one of which was made every spring, all came off the -same bolt of cloth, I can’t say, but it’s a fact that Mrs. Hull had to -study long to make out which was this year’s suit and which last’s. On -Sunday evenings, however, the Doctor donned a faded and dearly-loved -house-jacket of black velveteen with frayed silk frogs, for on Sunday -evenings he kept no consultation hours and made no calls if he could -possibly help it. - -In spite of Perry’s efforts, the cowboy was soon abandoned as a subject -for conversation. The Doctor was satisfied that Perry had imagined the -likeness and Mrs. Hull couldn’t see why a cowboy hadn’t as much right -in the neighboring building as anyone. Perry’s explanations failed -to convince her of the incongruity of a cowboy in Clearfield, for -she replied mildly that she quite distinctly remembered having seen -at least a half-dozen cowboys going along Main Street a year or two -before, the time the circus was in town! - -“Maybe,” chuckled the Doctor, “this cowboy got left behind then!” - -Perry refused to accept the explanation, and as soon as supper was over -he hurried upstairs again. But the light across the back-yard was out -and he returned disappointedly to the sitting-room, convinced that the -mystery would never be explained. His father had settled himself in the -green rep easy chair, with his feet on a foot-rest, and was smoking -his big meerschaum pipe that had a bowl shaped like a skull. The -Doctor had had that pipe since his student days, and Perry suspected -that, next to his mother and himself, it was the most prized of the -Doctor’s possessions. The Sunday papers lay spread across his knees, -but he wasn’t reading, and Perry seized on the opportunity presented -to broach the matter of going in for the Track Team. There had been -some difficulty in the fall in persuading his parents to consent to his -participation in football, and he wasn’t sure that they would look any -more kindly on other athletic endeavors. His mother was still busy in -the kitchen, for he could hear the dishes rattling, and he was glad of -it; it was his mother who looked with most disfavor on such things. - -“Dad, I’m going to join the Track Team and try sprinting,” announced -Perry carelessly. - -The Doctor brought his thoughts back with a visible effort. - -“Eh?” he asked. “Join what?” - -“The Track Team, sir. At school. I think I can sprint a little and I’d -like to try it. Maybe I won’t be good enough, but Fudge Shaw says I am, -and――――” - -“Sprinting, eh?” The Doctor removed his pipe and rubbed the bowl -carefully with the purple silk handkerchief that reposed in an inner -pocket of his house-jacket. “Think you’re strong enough for that, do -you?” - -“Why, yes, sir! I tried it to-day and didn’t have any trouble. And the -track was awfully wet, too.” - -“To-day?” The Doctor’s brows went up. “Sunday?” - -Perry hastened to explain and was cheered by a slight smile which -hovered under his father’s drooping mustache when he pictured Fudge -trying to be at both ends of the hundred-yards at once. “You see, dad, -I can’t play baseball well enough, and I’d like to do something. I -ought to anyway, just to keep in training for football next autumn. I -wouldn’t wonder if I got to be regular quarter-back next season.” - -“Sprinting,” observed the Doctor, tucking his handkerchief out of sight -again, “makes big demands on the heart muscles, Perry. I’ve no reason -for supposing that your heart isn’t as strong as the average, but I -recall in my college days a case where a boy over-worked himself in a -race, the quarter-mile, I think it was, and never was good for much -afterwards. He was in my class, and his name was――dear, dear, now what -was it? Well, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, that’s what you’ll have to -guard against, Perry.” - -“But if I began mighty easy, the way you do, and worked up to it, -sir――――” - -“Oh, I dare say it won’t hurt you. Exercise in moderation is always -beneficial. It’s putting sudden demands on yourself that does the -damage. With proper training, going at it slowly, day by day, you -know――well, we’ll see what your mother says.” - -Perry frowned and moved impatiently on the couch. “Yes, sir, but you -know mother always finds objections to my doing things like that. You’d -think I was a regular invalid! Other fellows run and jump and play -football and their folks don’t think anything of it. But mother――――” - -“Come, come, Perry! That’ll do, son. Your mother is naturally anxious -about you. You see, there’s only one of you, and we――well, we don’t -want any harm to come to you.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Perry, more meekly. “Only I thought if you’d say it -was all right, before she comes in――――” - -The Doctor chuckled. “Oh, that’s your little game, is it? No, no, we’ll -talk it over with your mother. She’s sensible, Perry, and I dare say -she won’t make any objections; that is, if you promise to be careful.” - -“Yes, sir. Why, there’s a regular trainer, you know, and the fellows -have to do just as he tells them to.” - -“Who is the trainer?” - -“‘Skeet’ Presser, sir. He’s――――” - -“Skeet?” - -“That’s what they call him. He’s small and skinny, sort of like a -mosquito. I guess that’s why. I don’t know what his real name is. He -used to be a runner; a jim-dandy, too, they say. He’s trainer at the Y. -M. C. A. I guess he’s considered pretty good. And very careful, sir.” -Perry added that as a happy afterthought. - -The Doctor smiled. “I guess we ought to make a diplomat out of you, -son, instead of a doctor.” - -“I don’t think I’ll be a doctor, dad.” - -“You don’t? I thought you did.” - -“I used to, but I――I’ve sort of changed my mind.” - -“Diplomats do that, too, I believe. Well, I dare say you’re right about -it. It doesn’t look as if I’d have much of a practice to hand over -to you, anyway. It’s getting so nowadays about every second case is -a charity case. About all you get is gratitude, and not always that. -Here’s your mother now. Mother, this boy wants to go in for athletics, -he tells me. Wants to run races and capture silver mugs. Or maybe -they’re pewter. What do you say to it?” - -“Gracious, what for?” ejaculated Mrs. Hull. - -Perry stated his case again while his mother took the green tobacco -jar from the mantel and placed it within the Doctor’s reach, plumped -up a pillow on the couch, picked a thread from the worn red carpet and -finally, with a little sigh, seated herself in the small walnut rocker -that was her especial property. When Perry had finished, his mother -looked across at the Doctor. - -“What does your father think?” she asked. - -“Oh, I think it won’t do him any harm,” was the reply from the Doctor. -“Might be good for him, in fact. I tell him he must be careful not to -attempt too much at first, that’s all. Running is good exercise if it -isn’t overdone.” - -“Well, it seems to me,” observed Mrs. Hull, “that if he can play -football and not get maimed for life, a little running can’t hurt him. -How far would it be, Perry?” - -“Oh, only about from here to the corner and back.” - -“Well, I don’t see much sense in it, but if you want to do it I haven’t -any objection. It doesn’t seem as if much could happen to you just -running to G Street and back!” - -The Doctor chuckled. “It might be good practice when it comes to -running errands, mother. Maybe he’ll be able to get to the grocery and -back the same afternoon!” - -“Well,” laughed Perry, “you see, dad, when you’re running on the track -you don’t meet fellows who want you to stop and play marbles with -them!” - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE ODE TO SPRING - - -With the advent of that first warm spring-like weather the High School -athletic activities began in earnest. During March the baseball -candidates had practiced to some extent indoors and occasionally on -the field, but not a great deal had been accomplished. The “cage” in -the basement of the school building was neither large nor light, while -cold weather, with rain and wet ground, had made outdoor work far from -satisfactory. Of the Baseball Team, Clearfield had high hopes this -spring. There was a wealth of material left from the successful Nine -of the previous spring, including two first-class pitchers, while the -captain, Warner Jones, was a good leader as well as a brainy player. -Then too, and in the judgment of the school this promised undoubted -success, the coaching had been placed in the hands of Dick Lovering. -Dick had proven his ability as a baseball coach the summer before and -had subsequently piloted the football team to victory in the fall, -thus winning an admiration and gratitude almost embarrassing to him. - -Dick, who had to swing about on crutches where other fellows went on -two good legs, came out of school Monday afternoon in company with -Lansing White and crossed over to Linden Street where a small blue -runabout car stood at the curb. Dick was tall, with dark hair and eyes. -Without being especially handsome, his rather lean face was attractive -and he had a smile that won friends on the instant. Dick was seventeen -and a senior. Lansing, or Lanny, White was a year younger, and a good -deal of a contrast to his companion. Lanny fairly radiated health and -strength and high spirits. You’re not to conclude that Dick suggested -ill-health or that he was low-spirited, for that would be far from -the mark. There was possibly no more cheerful boy in Clearfield than -Richard Lovering, in spite of his infirmity. But Lanny, with his flaxen -hair and dark eyes――a combination as odd as it was attractive――and his -sun-browned skin and his slimly muscular figure, looked the athlete -he was, every inch of him. Lanny was a “three-letter man” at the High -School; had captained the football team, caught on the nine and was a -sprinter of ability. And, which was no small attainment, he possessed -more friends than any other fellow in school. Lanny couldn’t help -making friends; he appeared to do it without conscious effort; there -had never been on his part any seeking for popularity. - -Lanny cranked the car and seated himself beside Dick. Fully half the -students were journeying toward the field, either to take part in -practice or to watch it, and the two boys in the runabout answered many -hails until they had distanced the pedestrians. - -“This,” said Lanny, as they circumspectly crossed the car-tracks and -turned into Main Street, “is just the sort of weather the doctor -ordered. If it keeps up we’ll really get started.” - -“This is April, though,” replied Dick, “and everyone knows April!” - -“Oh, we’ll have more showers, but once the field gets dried out -decently they don’t matter. I suppose it’ll be pretty squishy out there -to-day. What we ought to do, Dick, is have the whole field rolled right -now while it’s still soft. It’s awfully rough in right field, and even -the infield isn’t what you’d call a billiard table.” - -“Wish we could, Lanny. But I guess if we get the base paths fixed up -we’ll get all that’s coming to us this spring. Too bad we haven’t a -little money on hand.” - -“Oh, I know we can’t look to the Athletic Association for much. I was -only wondering if we couldn’t get it done somehow ourselves. If we -knew someone who had a steam roller we might borrow it!” - -“The town has a couple,” laughed Dick, “but I’m afraid they wouldn’t -loan them.” - -“Why not? Say, that’s an idea, Dick! Who do you borrow town property -from, anyway? The Mayor?” - -“Street Department, I guess. Tell Way to go and see them, why don’t -you?” - -“Way” was Curtis Wayland, manager of the baseball team. Lanny smiled. -“Joking aside,” he said, “they might do it, mightn’t they? Don’t they -ever loan things?” - -“Maybe, but you’d have to have the engineer or chauffeur or whatever -they call him to run it for you, and that would be a difficulty.” - -“Pshaw, anyone could run a steam roller! You could, anyway.” - -“Can’t you see me?” chuckled Dick. “Suppose, though, I got nabbed for -exceeding the speed limit? I guess, Lanny, if that field gets rolled -this spring it will be done by old-fashioned man-power. We might borrow -a roller somewhere and get a lot of the fellows out and have them take -turns pushing it.” - -“It would take a week of Sundays,” replied Lanny discouragingly. “You -wait. I’m not finished with that other scheme yet.” - -“Borrowing a roller from the town, you mean? Well, I’ve no objection, -but don’t ask me to run it. I’d be sure to put it through the fence or -something; and goodness knows we need all the fence we’ve got!” - -“Yes, it’ll be a miracle if it doesn’t fall down if anyone hits a ball -against it!” - -“If it happens in the Springdale game you’ll hear no complaint from -me,” said Dick, adding hurriedly, “That is, if it’s one of our team who -does it!” - -“Ever think of putting a sign on the fence in center field?” asked -Lanny. “‘Hit This Sign and Get Ten Dollars,’ or something of that sort, -you know. It might increase the team’s average a lot, Dick.” - -“You’re full of schemes to-day, aren’t you? Does that fence look to -you as if it would stand being hit very often?” They had turned into A -Street and the block-long expanse of sagging ten-foot fence stretched -beside them. “I’ve about concluded that being presented with an -athletic field is like getting a white elephant in your stocking at -Christmas!” - -“Gee, this field is two white elephants and a pink hippopotamus,” -replied Lanny as he jumped out in front of the players’ gate. Dick -turned off the engine and thoughtfully removed the plug from the dash -coil, thus foiling youngsters with experimental desires. His crutches -were beside him on the running-board, and, lifting them from the wire -clips that held them there, he deftly swung himself from the car and -passed through the gate. They were the first ones to arrive, but before -they had returned to the dressing-room under the nearer grandstand -after a pessimistic examination of the playing field, others had -begun to dribble in and a handful of youths were arranging themselves -comfortably on the seats behind first base. But if the audience -expected anything of a spectacular nature this afternoon they were -disappointed, for the practice was of the most elementary character. - -There was a half-hour at the net with Tom Nostrand and Tom Haley -pitching straight balls to the batters and then another half-hour -of fielding, Bert Cable, last year’s captain and now a sort of -self-appointed assistant coach, hitting fungoes to outfielders, and -Curtis Wayland, manager of the team, batting to the infield. The forty -or fifty onlookers in the stands soon lost interest when it was evident -that Coach Lovering had no intention of staging any sort of a contest, -and by ones and twos they took their departure. Even had they all gone, -however, the field would have been far from empty, for there were -nearly as many team candidates as spectators to-day. More than forty -ambitious youths had responded to the call and it required all the -ingenuity of Dick Lovering and Captain Warner Jones to give each one a -chance. The problem was finally solved by sending a bunch of tyros into -extreme left field, under charge of Manager Wayland, where they fielded -slow grounders and pop-flies and tested their throwing arms. - -It was while chasing a ball that had got by him that Way noticed a -fluttering sheet of paper near the cinder track. It had been creased -and folded, but now lay flat open, challenging curiosity. Way picked -it up and glanced at it as he returned to his place. It held all sorts -of scrawls and scribbles, but the words “William Butler Shaw,” and the -letters “W. B. S.,” variously arranged and entwined, were frequently -repeated. Occupying the upper part of the sheet were six or seven lines -of what, since the last words rhymed with each other, Way concluded to -be poetry. Since many of the words had been scored out and superseded -by others, and since the writing was none too legible in any case, Way -had to postpone the reading of the complete poem. He stuffed it in his -pocket, with a chuckle, and went back to amusing his awkward squad. - -Fudge Shaw sat on the bench between Felker and Grover and awaited his -turn in the outfield. Fudge had played in center some, but he was not -quite Varsity material, so to speak, and his hopes of making even the -second team, which would be formed presently, from what coach and -captain rejected, were not strong. Still, Fudge “liked to stick around -where things were doing,” as he expressed it, and he accepted his -impending fate with philosophy. Besides, he had more than half made -up his mind to cast his lot with the Track Team this spring. He was -discussing the gentle art of putting the twelve-pound shot with Guy -Felker when Dick summoned the outfield trio in and sent Fudge and two -others to take their places. Fudge trotted out to center and set about -his task of pulling down Bert Cable’s flies. Perhaps his mind was too -full of shot-putting to allow him to give the needed attention to the -work at hand. At all events, he managed to judge his first ball so -badly that it went six feet over his head and was fielded in by one -of Way’s squad. Way was laughing when Fudge turned toward him after -throwing the ball to the batter. - -“A fellow needs a pair of smoked glasses out here,” called Fudge -extenuatingly. This, in view of the fact that the sun was behind -Fudge’s right shoulder, was a lamentably poor excuse. Possibly he -realized it, for he added: “My eyes have been awfully weak lately.” - -Way, meeting the ball gently with his bat and causing a wild commotion -amongst his fielders, nodded soberly. “And for many other reasons,” he -called across. - -“Eh?” asked Fudge puzzled. But there was no time for more just then -as Bert Cable, observing his inattention, meanly shot a long low fly -into left field, and Fudge, starting late, had to run half-way to the -fence in order to attempt the catch. Of course he missed it and then, -when he had chased it down, made matters worse by throwing at least -twelve feet to the left of Cable on the return. The ex-captain glared -contemptuously and shouted some scathing remark that Fudge didn’t hear. -After that, he got along fairly well, sustaining a bruised finger, -however, as a memento of the day’s activities. When practice was over -he trudged back to the dressing-room and got into his street clothes. -Fortunately, most of the new fellows had dressed at home and so it -was possible to find room in which to squirm out of things without -collisions. While Fudge was lacing his shoes he observed that Way and -his particular crony, Will Scott, who played third base, were unusually -hilarious in a far corner of the room. - -But Fudge was unsuspicious, and presently he found himself walking home -with the pair. - -“Say, this is certainly peachy weather, isn’t it?” inquired Will as -they turned into B Street. “Aren’t you crazy about spring, Way?” - -“Am I? Well, rather! O beauteous spring!” - -“So am I. You know it makes the birds sing in the trees.” - -“Sure. And it makes the April breeze to blow.” - -“What’s wrong with you chaps?” asked Fudge perplexedly. The strange -words struck him as dimly familiar but he didn’t yet connect them with -their source. - -“Fudge,” replied Way sadly, “I fear you have no poetry in your soul. -Doesn’t the spring awaken――er――awaken feelings in your breast? Don’t -you feel the――the appeal of the sunshine and the singing birds and all -that?” - -“You’re batty,” said Fudge disgustedly. - -“Now for my part,” said Will Scott, “spring art, I ween, the best of -all the seasons.” - -“Now you’re saying something,” declared Way enthusiastically. “It -clothes the earth with green――――” - -“And for numerous other reasons,” added Will gravely. - -A great light broke on Fudge and his rotund cheeks took on a vivid -tinge. “W-w-what you s-s-silly chumps think you’re up to?” he demanded. -“W-w-where did you g-g-g-get that st-t-t-tuff?” - -“Stuff!” exclaimed Way protestingly. “That’s poetry, Fudge. Gen-oo-ine -poetry. Want to hear it all?” - -“No, I don’t!” - -But Will had already started declaiming and Way chimed in: - - “O Beauteous Spring, thou art, I ween, - The best of all the Seasons, - Because you clothe the Earth with green - And for numerous other reasons!” - -“I hope you ch-ch-choke!” groaned Fudge. “W-w-where’d you get it? Who -t-t-told you――――” - -“Fudge,” replied Way, laughingly, “you shouldn’t leave your poetic -effusions around the landscape if you don’t want them read.” He pulled -the sheet of paper from his pocket and flaunted it temptingly just out -of reach. “‘You make the birds sing in the trees――――’” - -“‘The April breeze to blow,’” continued Will. - -“‘The sun to shine――――’ What’s the rest of it, Fudge? Say, it’s -corking! It’s got a swing to it that’s simply immense!” - -“And then the sentiment, the poetic feeling!” elaborated Will. “How do -you do it, Fudge?” - -“Aw, q-q-quit it, fellows, and g-g-g-give me that!” begged Fudge -shame-facedly. “I just did it for f-f-fun. It d-d-dropped out of my -p-p-p――――” - -But “pocket” was too much for Fudge in his present state of mind, -and he gave up the effort and tried to get the sheet of paper away. -He succeeded finally, by the time they had reached Lafayette Street, -where their ways parted, and tore it to small bits and dropped it into -someone’s hedge. Way and Will departed joyfully, and until they were -out of earshot Fudge could hear them declaiming the “Ode to Spring.” -He went home a prey to a deep depression. He feared that he had by no -means heard the last of the unfortunate poetical effort. And, as the -future proved, his fears were far from groundless. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -PERRY REMEMBERS - - -Fudge had an engagement to go to the moving pictures that evening -with Perry Hull. They put on the new reels on Mondays and Fudge was a -devoted “first-nighter.” Very shortly after supper was over he picked -up a book and carelessly strolled toward the hall. - -“Where are you going, William?” asked his mother. - -“Over to the library,” replied Fudge, making a strong display of the -book in his hand. - -“Well, don’t stay late. Haven’t you any studying to do to-night?” - -“No’m, not much. I’ll do it when I come back.” - -“Seems to me,” said Mrs. Shaw doubtfully, “it would be better to do -your studying first.” - -“I don’t feel like studying so soon after supper,” returned Fudge -plaintively. “I won’t be gone very long――I guess.” - -“Very well, dear. Close the door after you. It’s downright chilly again -to-night.” - -“Yes’m.” Fudge slipped his cap to the back of his round head and -opened the side door. There he hesitated. Of course, he was going to -the library, although he didn’t especially want to, for it was many -blocks out of his way, but he meant to make his visit to that place -as short as possible in order to call for Perry and reach the theater -early enough not to miss a single feature of the evening’s program. -And he was practically telling a lie. Fudge didn’t like that. He felt -decidedly uneasy as he stood with the door knob in hand. The trouble -was that his mother didn’t look kindly on moving pictures. She didn’t -consider them harmful, but she did think them a waste of time, and was -firmly convinced that once a month was quite often enough for Fudge to -indulge his passion for that form of entertainment. Fudge had a severe -struggle out there in the hallway, and I like to think that he would -have eventually decided to make known his principal destination had not -Mrs. Shaw unfortunately interrupted his cogitations. - -“William, have you gone?” - -“No’m.” - -“Well, don’t hold the door open, please. I feel a draft on my feet.” - -“Yes’m.” Fudge slowly closed the door, with himself on the outside. -The die was cast. He tried to comfort himself with the assurance that -if his mother hadn’t spoken just when she did he would have asked -permission to go to the “movies.” It wasn’t his fault. He passed out -of the yard whistling blithely enough, but before he had reached the -corner the whistle had died away. He wished he had told the whole -truth. He was more than half inclined to go back, but it was getting -later every minute and he had to walk eight blocks to the library and -five back to the theater, and it would take him several minutes to -exchange his book, and Perry might not be ready―――― - -Fudge was so intent on all this that he passed the front of the Merrick -house, on the corner, without, as usual, announcing his transit with -a certain peculiar whistle common to him and his friends. He walked -hurriedly, determinedly, trying to keep his thoughts on the pleasure -in store, hoping they’d have a rattling good melodrama on the bill -to-night and would present less of the “sentimental rot” than was -their custom. But Conscience stalked at Fudge’s side, and the further -he got from home the more uncomfortable he felt in his mind; and his -thoughts refused to stay placed on the “movies.” But while he paused in -crossing G Street to let one of the big yellow cars trundle past him -a splendid idea came to him. He would telephone! There was a booth in -the library, and if he had a nickel――quick examination of his change -showed that he was possessed of eleven cents beyond the sum required to -purchase admission to the theater. With a load off his mind, he hurried -on faster than ever, ran across the library grounds with no heed to -the “Keep off the Grass” signs and simply hurtled through the swinging -green doors. - -It was the work of only a minute or two to seize a book from the rack -on the counter――it happened to be a treatise on the Early Italian -Painters, but Fudge didn’t care――and make the exchange. The assistant -librarian looked somewhat surprised at Fudge’s choice, but secretly -hoped that it indicated a departure from the sensational fiction -usually selected by the boy, and passed the volume across to him at -last with an approving smile. Fudge was too impatient to see the smile, -however. The book once in his possession, he hurried to the telephone -booth in the outer hall and demanded his number. Then a perfectly good -five-cent piece dropped forever out of his possession and he heard his -mother’s voice at the other end of the line. - -“This is Fudge. Say, Ma, I thought――I’m at the library, Ma, and I got -the book I wanted, and I thought, seeing it’s so early――say, Ma, may I -go to the movies for a little while?” - -“You intended to go all the time, didn’t you, William?” came his -mother’s voice. - -“Yes’m, but――――” - -“Why didn’t you tell me?” - -That was something of a poser. “Well, I meant to, but――but you said not -to keep the door open and――and――――” Fudge’s voice dwindled into silence. - -“Why do you tell me now?” - -Gee, but she certainly could ask a lot of hard questions, he reflected. -“I thought maybe――oh, I don’t know, Ma. May I? Just for a little while? -I’m going with Perry――if you say I can.” - -“I’d rather you told me in the first place, William, but telling me now -shows that you know you did wrong. You mustn’t tell lies, William, and -when you said you were going to the library――――” - -“Yes’m, I know!” Fudge was shifting impatiently from one foot to the -other, his eyes fixed on the library clock, seen through an oval pane -in one of the green baize doors. “I――I’m sorry. Honest, I am. That’s -why I telephoned, Ma.” - -“If I let you go to-night you won’t ask to go again next week?” - -“No’m,” replied Fudge dejectedly. - -“Very well, then you may go. And you needn’t leave before it’s over, -William, because if you don’t go next week you might as well see all -you can this time.” - -“Yes’m! Thanks! Good-by!” - -Fudge knew a short cut from Ivy Street to G Street, and that saved -nearly a minute even though it necessitated climbing a high fence and -trespassing on someone’s premises. He reached Perry’s and, to his vast -relief, found that youth awaiting him at the gate. Perry was slightly -surprised to be hailed from the direction opposite to that in which he -was looking, but joined Fudge at the corner and, in response to the -latter’s earnest and somewhat breathless appeal to “Get a move on,” -accompanied him rapidly along the next block. Just as they came into -sight of the brilliantly illumined front of the moving picture house, -eight o’clock began to sound on the City Hall bell and Fudge broke into -a run. - -“Come on!” he panted. “We’ll be late!” - -They weren’t, though. The orchestra was still dolefully tuning up as -they found seats. The orchestra consisted principally of a pianist, -although four other musicians were arranged lonesomely on either side. -The two boys were obliged to sit well over toward the left of the house -and when the orchestra began the overture Fudge’s gaze, attracted to -the performers, stopped interestedly at the pianist. “Say, Perry,” he -said, “they’ve got a new guy at the piano. See?” - -Perry looked and nodded. Then he took a second look and frowned -puzzledly. “Who is he?” he asked. - -“I don’t know. But the other fellow was short and fat. Say, I hope they -have a good melodrama, don’t you?” - -“Yes, one of those Western plays, eh?” Perry’s gaze went back to -the man at the piano. There was something about him that awakened -recollection. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of twenty-six or --seven, with clear-cut and very good-looking features, and a luxuriant -mustache, as Perry could see when he turned to smile at one of the -violinists. He played the piano as though he thoroughly enjoyed it, -swaying a little from the hips and sometimes emphasizing with a sudden -swift bend of his head. - -“He can play all around the other guy,” said Fudge in low and admiring -whispers. “Wish I could play a piano like that. I’ll bet he can ‘rag’ -like anything!” - -At that moment the house darkened and the program commenced with -the customary weekly review. Fudge sat through some ten minutes of -that patiently, and was only slightly bored when a rustic comedy was -unrolled before him, but when the next film developed into what he -disdainfully called “one of those mushy things,” gloom began to settle -over his spirits. He squirmed impatiently in his seat and muttered -protestingly. A sharp-faced, elderly lady next to him audibly requested -him to “sit still, for Mercy’s sake!” Fudge did the best he could and -virtue was rewarded after a while. “Royston of the Rangers,” announced -the film. Fudge sat up, devoured the cast that followed and, while the -orchestra burst into a jovial two-step, nudged Perry ecstatically. - -“Here’s your Western play,” he whispered. - -Perry nodded. Then the first scene swept on the screen and Fudge was -happy. It was a quickly-moving, breath-taking drama, and the hero, a -Texas Ranger, bore a charmed life if anyone ever did. He simply had to. -If he hadn’t he’d have been dead before the film had unrolled a hundred -feet! Perry enjoyed that play even more than Fudge, perhaps, for he was -still enthralled by yesterday’s dreams. There were rangers and cowboys -and Mexicans and a sheriff’s posse and many other picturesque persons, -and “battle, murder and sudden death” was the order of the day. During -a running fight between galloping rangers and a band of Mexican -desperados Fudge almost squirmed off his chair to the floor. After that -there was a really funny “comic” and that, in turn, was followed by -another melodrama which, if not as hair-raising as the first, brought -much satisfaction to Fudge. On the whole, it was a pretty good show. -Fudge acknowledged it as he and Perry wormed their way out through the -loitering audience at the end of the performance. - -They discussed it as they made their way along to Castle’s Drug Store -where Perry was to treat to sodas. For Fudge at least half the fun was -found in talking the show over afterwards. He was a severe critic, -and if the manager of the theater could have heard his remarks about -the “mushy” film he might have been moved to exclude such features -thereafter. When they had had their sodas and had turned back toward -Perry’s house, Perry suddenly stood stock-still on the sidewalk and -ejaculated: “Gee, I know where I saw him!” - -“Saw who?” demanded Fudge. “Come on, you chump.” - -“Why, the fellow who played the piano. I’ll bet you anything he’s the -cowboy!” - -“You try cold water,” said Fudge soothingly. “Just wet a towel and put -it around your head――――” - -“No, listen, will you, Fudge? I want to tell you.” So Perry recounted -the odd coincidence of the preceding evening, ending with: “And I’ll -bet you anything you like that’s the same fellow who was playing the -piano there to-night. I recognized him, I tell you, only I couldn’t -think at first.” - -“Well, he didn’t look like a cowboy to-night,” replied Fudge dubiously. -“Besides, what would he be doing here? This isn’t any place for -cowboys. I guess you kind of imagined that part of it. Maybe he had on -a felt hat; I don’t say he didn’t; but I guess you imagined the rest of -it. It――it’s psychological, Perry. You were thinking about cowboys and -such things and then this fellow appeared at the window and you thought -he was dressed like one.” - -“No, I didn’t. I tell you I could see the handkerchief around his neck -and――and everything! I don’t say he really is a cowboy, but I know -mighty well he was dressed like one. And I know he’s the fellow we saw -playing the piano.” - -“Oh, shucks, cowboys don’t play pianos, Perry. Besides, what does it -matter anyway?” - -“Nothing, I suppose, only――only it’s sort of funny. I’d like to know -why he was got up like a cowboy.” - -“Why don’t you ask him? Tell you what we’ll do, Perry, we’ll go up -there to-morrow after the show’s over and lay in wait for him.” - -“Up to his room? I wonder if he has an office. Maybe he gives lessons, -Fudge.” - -“What sort of lessons?” - -“Piano lessons. Why would he have an office?” - -“Search me. But we’ll find out. We’ll put ‘Young Sleuth’ on his trail. -Maybe there’s a mystery about him. I’ll drop around after practice -to-morrow and we’ll trail him down. Say, what about the Track Team? -Thought you were going to join.” - -“I was. Only――oh, I got to thinking maybe I couldn’t run very fast, -after all.” - -“Piffle! We’ll have another trial, then. I’ll get Gordon to hold the -watch at the start and I’ll time you at the finish. What do you say? -Want to try it to-morrow?” - -“No, I’d feel like a fool,” muttered Perry. “Maybe I’ll register -to-morrow, anyway. I dare say it won’t do any harm even if I find I -can’t sprint much. What about you and putting the shot?” - -“I’m going to try for it, I guess. Baseball’s no good for me. They -won’t even give me a place on the Second, I suppose. Guess I’ll talk to -Felker about it to-morrow. You’re silly if you don’t have a try at it, -Perry. You’ve got the making of a dandy sprinter; you mark my words!” - -“If you’ll register for the team, I will,” said Perry. - -“All right! It’s a bargain!” - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -THE FALSE MUSTACHE - - -“Well?” asked Lanny. - -Curtis Wayland shook his head and smiled. “He thought I was fooling at -first. Then he thought I was crazy. After that he just pitied me for -not having any sense.” - -“I’ve pitied you all my life for that,” laughed Lanny. “But what did he -say?” - -“Said in order for him to let us have the use of town property he’d -have to introduce a bill or something in the Council and have it passed -and signed by the Mayor and sworn to by the Attorney and sealed by the -Sealer and――and――――” - -“And stamped by the stamper?” suggested Dick Lovering helpfully. - -“Cut out the comedy stuff,” said Lanny. “He just won’t do it, eh?” - -“That’s what I gathered,” Way assented dryly. “And if, in my official -capacity of――――” - -“Or incapacity,” interpolated Lanny sweetly. - -Way scowled fearsomely. “If in my capacity of manager of this team,” he -resumed with dignity, “I’m required to go on any more idiotic errands -like that I’m going to resign. I may be crazy and foolish, but I hate -to have folks mention it.” - -“We’re all touchy on our weak points,” said Lanny kindly. “Well, I -suppose you did the best you could, Way, but I’m blessed if I see how -it would hurt them to let us use their old road roller.” - -“He also dropped some careless remark about the expense of running it,” -observed Way, “from which I gathered that, even if he did let us take -it, he meant to sock us about fifteen dollars a day!” - -“Who is he?” Dick asked. - -“He’s Chairman or something of the Street Department.” - -“Superintendent of Streets,” corrected Way. “I saw it on the door.” - -“I mean,” explained Dick, “what’s his name?” - -“Oh, Burns. He’s Ned Burns’ father.” - -“Uncle,” corrected Way. - -“Could Burns have done anything with him, do you suppose?” Dick asked -thoughtfully. - -“I don’t believe so. The man is deficient in public spirit and lacking -in――in charitable impulse, or something.” Lanny frowned intently at Way -until the latter said: - -“Out with it! What’s on your mind?” - -“Nothing much. Only――well, that field certainly needs a good rolling.” - -“It certainly does,” assented Way. “But if you’re hinting for me to go -back and talk to that man again――――” - -“I’m not. The time for asking has passed. We gave them a chance to be -nice about it and they wouldn’t. Now it’s up to us.” - -“Right-o, old son! What are we going to do about it?” - -Lanny smiled mysteriously. “You just hold your horses and see,” he -replied. “I guess the crowd’s here, Dick. Shall we start things up?” - -“Yes, let’s get at it. Hello, Fudge!” - -“Hello, fellers! Say, Dick, I’m quitting.” - -“Quitting? Oh, baseball, you mean. What’s the trouble?” - -“Oh, I’m not good enough and there’s no use my hanging around, I guess. -I’m going out for the Track Team to-morrow. I thought I’d let you know.” - -“Thanks. Well, I’m sorry, Fudge, but you’re right about it. You aren’t -quite ready for the team yet. Maybe next year――――” - -“That’s what I thought. Lanny’ll be gone then and maybe I’ll catch for -you.” - -“That’s nice of you,” laughed Lanny. “I was worried about what was -going to happen after I’d left. Meanwhile, though, Fudge, what -particular stunt are you going to do on the Track Team?” - -“Weights, I guess. Perry Hull’s going out for the team and he dared me -to. Think I could put the shot, Dick?” - -“I really don’t know, Fudge. It wouldn’t take you long to find out, -though. You’re pretty strong, aren’t you?” - -“I guess so,” replied Fudge quite modestly. “Anyway, Felker’s yelling -for fellows to join and I thought there wouldn’t be any harm in trying.” - -“‘And for many other reasons,’” murmured Way. The others smiled, and -Fudge, with an embarrassed and reproachful glance, hurried away to -where Perry was awaiting him in the stand. - -“Fellows who read other fellows’ things that aren’t meant for them to -read are pretty low-down, I think,” he ruminated. “And I’ll tell him -so, too, if he doesn’t let up.” - -“Don’t you love spring?” asked Perry as Fudge joined him. “It makes――――” - -Fudge turned upon him belligerently. “Here, don’t you start that too!” -he exclaimed warmly. - -“Start what?” gasped Perry. “I only said――――” - -“I heard what you said! Cut it out!” - -“What’s the matter with you?” asked Perry. “Can’t I say that I like -spring if I want to?” - -“And what else were you going to say?” demanded Fudge sternly. - -“That it makes you feel nice and lazy,” replied the other in hurt tones. - -“Oh! Nothing about――about the birds singing or the April breeze?” - -Perry viewed his friend in genuine alarm. “Honest, Fudge, I don’t know -what you’re talking about. Aren’t you well?” - -“Then you haven’t heard it.” Fudge sighed. “Sorry I bit your head off.” - -“Heard what?” asked Perry in pardonable curiosity. - -Fudge hesitated and tried to retreat, but Perry insisted on being -informed, and finally Fudge told about the “Ode to Spring” and the fun -the fellows were having with him. “I get it on all sides,” he said -mournfully. “Tappen passed me a note in Latin class this morning; -wanted to know what the other reasons were. Half the fellows in school -are on to it and I don’t hear anything else. I’m sick of it!” - -Perry’s eyes twinkled, but he expressed proper sympathy, and Fudge -finally consented to forget his grievance and lend a critical eye -to the doings of the baseball candidates. They didn’t remain until -practice was over, however, for, in his capacity of “Young Sleuth,” -Fudge was determined to unravel the mystery of the cowboy-pianist, as -he called the subject for investigation. The afternoon performance at -the moving picture theater was over about half-past four or quarter to -five, and a few minutes after four the two boys left the field and went -back to town. Fudge explained the method of operation on the way. - -“We’ll wait outside the theater,” he said. “I’ll be looking in a window -and you can be on the other side of the street. He mustn’t see us, you -know.” - -“Why?” asked Perry. - -“Because he might suspect.” - -“Suspect what?” - -“Why, that we were on his track,” explained Fudge a trifle impatiently. -“You don’t suppose detectives let the folks they are shadowing know it, -do you?” - -“I don’t see what harm it would do if he saw us. There isn’t anything -for him to get excited about, is there?” - -“You can’t tell. I’ve been thinking a lot about this chap, Perry, -and the more I――the more I study the case the less I like it.” Fudge -frowned intensely. “There’s something mighty suspicious about him, I -think. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d done something.” - -“What do you mean, done something?” - -“Why, committed some crime. Maybe he’s sort of hiding out here. No one -would think of looking for him in a movie theater, would they?” - -“Maybe not, but if they went to the theater they’d be pretty certain to -see him, wouldn’t they?” - -“Huh! He’s probably disguised. I’ll bet that mustache of his is a fake -one.” - -“It didn’t look so,” Perry objected. “What sort of――of crime do you -suppose he committed, Fudge?” - -“Well, he’s pretty slick-looking. I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned -out to be a safe-breaker. Maybe he’s looking for a chance to crack a -safe here in Clearfield; sort of studying the lay of the land, you -know, and seeing where there’s a good chance to get a lot of money. -We might go over to the police station, Perry, and see if there’s -a description of him there. I’ll bet you he’s wanted somewhere for -something all right!” - -“Oh, get out, Fudge! The fellow’s a dandy-looking chap. And even if he -had done something and I knew it, I wouldn’t go and tell on him.” - -“Well, I didn’t say I would, did I? B-b-but there’s no harm in finding -out, is there?” - -Whether Fudge’s watch was slow or whether, absorbed in their -conversation, they consumed more time than they realized on the way, -the City Hall clock proclaimed twenty-two minutes to five when they -reached the Common and, to Fudge’s intense disgust, the theater was -out. The ticket-seller had departed from his glass hutch between the -two doors and the latter were closed. Fudge scowled his displeasure. - -“He’s made his getaway,” he said, “but he can’t escape us long. The -Hand of the Law――――” He paused, his attention attracted by one of the -colorful posters adorning the entrance. “Say, Perry, that’s where the -Mexican tries to throw her off the cliff. Remember? I’d like to see -that again. It’s a corker! Gee, why didn’t we think to come here this -afternoon?” - -“I’d rather wait until Thursday and see some new ones,” replied Perry. -“Come over to the house for a while, Fudge.” - -“Aren’t you going on with this?” asked Fudge surprisedly. - -“Well, he’s gone, hasn’t he?” - -“That doesn’t keep us from having a look at his hiding place, does it? -We’ll go around there and reconnoiter. Come on.” - -But Perry held back. - -“I wouldn’t want him to think we were snooping on him, Fudge.” - -“He won’t know. We’ll just track him to his lair but we won’t let on -we’re after him. It’s a good idea to know where to find him in case we -want him. And we’d ought to find out whether there’s more than one way -for him to get in and out.” - -“I know there is. There’s a front door and a back. The back door lets -out into that little alley next to Cosgrove’s store on Common Street.” - -“Cosgrove’s? Ha!” Fudge stopped abruptly and tried to look as much like -his favorite hero, “Young Sleuth,” as possible. “That’s it, then!” - -“What’s it?” asked Perry impatiently. - -“It’s Cosgrove’s he’s after. Don’t you see?” Cosgrove’s was the -principal jewelry store in Clearfield. “That’s why he rented a room in -that block, Perry. All he’s got to do is to go out the back way to the -alley and there he is!” - -“You’re crazy,” laughed Perry. “You don’t know that the man’s a――a -criminal, do you?” - -“Well, it looks mighty like it,” asserted Fudge, shaking his head in a -very satisfied way. “Everything points to it. We’ll have a look at the -alley first, I guess.” - -The entrance was only a half-block distant and Perry followed his -enthusiastic friend up its narrow length until it stopped at a board -fence beyond which was the back yard of the next house to the Hulls’. -On the way Fudge paid much attention to the three barred windows of -Cosgrove’s store. - -“See if you see signs of a file,” he whispered to Perry. “That’s what -he’d probably do; come down here at night and file the bars away. Maybe -we’d better go into the store and see where the safe is located.” - -“If you don’t stop tugging at those bars we’ll get pinched,” objected -Perry. He was losing his interest in the affair and had begun to think -Fudge’s sleuthing rather tiresome. Besides, it was getting sort of -dark in the little alley and he had already collided painfully with -an ash-barrel. He was relieved when Fudge finally satisfied himself -that so far, at least, the bars of the jewelry store windows had not -been tampered with. Fudge was evidently disappointed and not a little -surprised. He did a good deal of muttering as he went on to the end of -the alley. There he stared across the fence. - -“Whose house is that?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. - -“Judge Folwell’s. No one lives in it now, though.” - -“Hm,” said Fudge. “Your house is over there, isn’t it?” - -“Yes. That’s the roof.” - -“Has your father got a safe?” - -“No, he hasn’t. For the love of mud, Fudge, come on home.” - -“Wait a minute.” Fudge turned to the back of the brick block. “What’s -on the first floor here?” - -“Ginter’s Bakery.” - -“Then this door opens into that?” - -“I don’t know. I suppose so. What difference does it make?” - -“It makes a lot of difference,” replied Fudge with much dignity. “If -it does, he’d have to pass through the bakery to get out this way, -wouldn’t he? And someone would be likely to see him. What we’ve got to -find out is whether it does or doesn’t.” Fudge walked up the two stone -steps and tried the latch. The door opened easily. Inside was silence -and darkness. Fudge hesitated. “Maybe,” he murmured, “we’d better try -the front way first.” - -They did, Perry, for one, retracing his steps through the darkening -alley with relief. At the main entrance of the building on G Street -they climbed two flights of stairs, Fudge cautioning his companion -against making too much noise, and, with assumed carelessness, loitered -down the hall to the last door on the right. There were some five or -six offices on each side and several of them appeared to be unoccupied -at present. Nor was there anything about the door they sought to -suggest that the room behind it was the refuge of a desperate criminal -or, for that matter, anyone else. The door was closed and bore no sign. -The two boys halted at a discreet distance and studied it. - -“Wonder if he’s in there now,” whispered Fudge. - -“Probably,” replied Perry uneasily. The hall was silent and shadows -lurked in the corners. From the floor below came the faint ticking of -a typewriter, but that was all the sound that reached them until an -automobile horn screeched outside. Perry jumped nervously. - -“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s beat it. He might come out and――――” - -At that moment footsteps sounded on the lower flight. Perry tugged at -Fudge’s arm. “Come on, can’t you?” he urged. But Fudge was listening -intently to the approaching steps. The person, whoever he was, tramped -along the hall below and began the ascent of the next flight. Perry -looked about for concealment. A few yards away a half-open door showed -an empty and dusty interior. Perry slid through and Fudge followed, -closing the door softly all but a few inches. The footsteps reached the -top of the stairs and approached along the corridor, passed and kept on -toward the back of the building. Cautiously the two boys peered out. -It was the cowboy-pianist. He paused at the last portal, produced a -key, inserted it in the lock and opened the door. And as he passed from -sight he raised a hand and removed the luxuriant brown mustache from -his upper lip! - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -FUDGE REVOLTS - - -The boys crept quietly down the stairs and out into the street. It was -not until they had turned the corner that Fudge broke the silence. - -“What do you know about that?” he murmured awedly. - -“Looks as though you were right,” returned Perry admiringly. “He was -disguised, all right.” - -“I――I’ve got to think this over,” said Fudge. He was plainly -bewildered. They paused at Perry’s gate and he declined an invitation -to enter, with a shake of his head. “I guess,” he muttered, “there’s -more in this than I thought. You saw him take it off, didn’t you?” - -“Of course!” - -Fudge sighed relievedly. Perhaps he had doubted the evidences of his -senses. “Well, I’ll think it over, and to-morrow――――” - -“What?” asked Perry interestedly. - -“We’ll see,” was Fudge’s cryptic and unsatisfactory reply. “So long. -And not a word of this to a living soul, Perry!” - -“All right. But, say, Fudge”――Perry dropped his voice――“do you really -think he’s a――a criminal?” - -“What else can he be? Folks don’t wear false mustaches for nothing, do -they?” - -“N-no, but he might be doing it for――for a sort of joke,” returned the -other lamely. - -Fudge sniffed. “Joke! I’ll bet the joke will be on him before -I’m――before we’re done with him! You leave it to me. Night!” - -Fudge strode off in the twilight. There was something very stealthy -and even somber in his departure. Perry, watching a bit admiringly, -saw the careful manner in which the amateur detective discounted -surprise by keeping close to the fence and peering cautiously at each -tree as he approached it. At last Fudge melted mysteriously into the -distant shadows down the street, and Perry, somewhat thrilled with the -afternoon’s adventure, hurried upstairs and glanced toward the window -in the brick building. There was a light behind the lowered shade, but, -although he kept watch for nearly a half-hour, nothing came into view. - -He wondered what was going on behind that window, and imagined all -sorts of deliciously exciting things. Perhaps the mysterious cowboy -pianist was studying a plan of Cosgrove’s jewelry store, or perhaps -he was bending over a fascinating assortment of jimmies and files -and――yes, there’d be an acetylene torch for burning a hole in the steel -safe, and there’d be dynamite or nitro-glycerine or something equally -useful to a safe-breaker! If only he might somehow get a momentary peek -into that room over there! He was so full of his interesting neighbor -that he ate almost no supper and incurred the anxious displeasure of -his mother. - -“Aren’t you feeling well, Perry?” she asked. - -“No’m――I mean, yes’m!” - -“I think, Father, you’d better have a look at him after supper. His -face looks feverish to me.” - -“I’m all right, honest, Ma! I――I just ain’t hungry.” - -“Don’t say ‘ain’t,’ Perry. Have you been eating this afternoon?” - -“No’m.” - -“I wouldn’t worry about him,” said the Doctor. “These first spring days -are likely to interfere with one’s appetite. Have you started that -sprinting yet? Been doing too much running to-day?” - -“No, sir, we don’t start until to-morrow. Dad, did you ever see a -burglar?” - -“I suppose so. I don’t recollect. Have you seen one around?” - -Perry almost changed color. “No, sir――that is――I just wondered whether -they wore false mustaches.” - -“Now, Perry Hull, what sort of nonsense have you been reading?” -inquired his mother. “Some of the books you get out of the library -aren’t fit for any boy; all about fighting and Indians and――and now -it’s burglars, I dare say! I don’t see when you have time for reading, -anyway, with all those lessons to study. Your report card last month -wasn’t anything to boast of, either.” - -“It was all right except math.,” defended Perry. “Gee, if you think my -card was punk, you ought to see some of them!” - -“I didn’t say anything about ‘punk,’” retorted Mrs. Hull with dignity. -“And I’d like to know where you get all the horrid words you use -lately. I dare say it’s that Shaw boy. He looks rather common, I think.” - -“There, there, Mother, don’t scold him any more,” said the Doctor -soothingly. “Slang’s harmless enough. Have a slice of lamb, son?” - -Perry dutifully passed his plate and consumed the lamb, not because he -had any appetite for it but in order to allay his mother’s suspicions -of illness. There were some especially nasty bottles in the Doctor’s -office and Perry had long ago vowed never to be ill again! After supper -he excused himself early and retired to his room to study. Mrs. Hull -smiled commendingly. It was evident to her that her remarks had borne -fruit. But Perry didn’t get very much studying done, because he spent -much of the evening peeking cautiously around the corner of his window -shade. Of course he realized that the safe-breaker would be at the -theater in his assumed rôle of pianist, but it had occurred to Perry -that possibly he had an accomplice. But the opposite window remained -dark all the evening, or at least until after Perry, ready for bed, had -sent a final look across the starlit gloom. What happened subsequently -he didn’t know, but he dreamed the wildest, most extravagant dreams -in which he was at one moment participating in furious deeds of crime -and the next, aligned on the side of Justice, was heroically pursuing -a whole horde of criminals across the roofs of the city. That the -criminals were under the able and even brilliant leadership of Fudge -Shaw did not strike him as the least bit incongruous――until the next -morning! - -When he finally tumbled out of bed, after reviewing his dreams, or -as much as he could recall of them, he went first to the window -and looked across the back yard. His heart leaped into his throat -at what he saw. The last window on the third floor of the brick -building was wide-open and there, in plain view of all the world, sat -the safe-breaker! A small table was pulled in front of the casement -and the safe-breaker was seated at it. On the table were a cup and -saucer, some dishes and a newspaper. Perry gazed fascinatedly. The -safe-breaker alternately read the paper and ate his breakfast. Perry -couldn’t be quite certain, but it appeared that the breakfast consisted -of sausage and rolls and coffee. Whatever it was, the man ate with -evident enjoyment, slowly, perusing the morning news between mouthfuls. -There was no mustache to-day. Instead, the safe-breaker’s face was -clean-shaven and undeniably good-looking in a rugged way. He had a -rather large nose and a generous mouth and lean cheeks and a very -determined-looking chin. His hair was brown, with some glints of red -in it where the sunlight touched it. He was attired in quite ordinary -clothes, so far as the observer could see, but wore no coat; perhaps -because the morning was delightfully warm and the sunlight shone in -at his window. Fortunately for Perry, the man never once glanced his -way. If he had he might easily have seen a boy in blue pajamas staring -fascinatedly across at him with very wide, round eyes. In which case -doubtless he would have suspected that he was under surveillance! - -Perry was still looking when his mother’s voice summoned him to action. -Regretfully he withdrew his gaze and hurried off to the bathroom. When -he returned the safe-breaker was still there, but he had finished his -breakfast and was smoking a short pipe, still busy with the paper, -and so Perry was obliged to leave him, and when he had finished his -own repast and raced upstairs again the opposite window was empty. -Perry set off to school fairly weighted down with the startling news -he had to tell Fudge Shaw, and hoping beyond everything that he would -be fortunate enough to meet with that youth before the bell rang. He -wasn’t, however, and not until the noon hour did he find a chance to -unburden himself. Then, while he and Fudge, together with some two -hundred other boys――not to mention an even larger number of girls――sat -on the coping around the school grounds and ate their luncheons, he -eagerly, almost breathlessly, recounted the story of what he had seen. - -Fudge was plainly impressed, and he asked any number of searching and -seemingly purposeless questions, but in the end he appeared a little -disappointed. “It doesn’t seem,” he said, “that he’d show himself like -that if he’s what we think he is. Unless, of course, he’s doing it for -a bluff; to avert suspicion, you know.” - -Perry nodded. - -“He doesn’t look much like a criminal,” he said doubtfully. “He’s sort -of nice-looking, Fudge.” - -“Lots of the best of ’em are,” was the sententious reply. “Look at――oh, -lots of ’em! Remember the crook in that movie play last month, the -fellow who forged things?” - -“Jim the Penman? Yes, but he was only an actor, Fudge.” - -“Makes no difference. Those plays are true to life, Perry. That’s -why they got that good-looking chap to act that part, don’t you see? -That’s one of the most suspicious things about this fellow. He’s too -good-looking, too innocent, don’t you see? He’s probably an awfully -clever cracksman, Perry.” - -“Maybe,” replied the other hopefully. “What do you suppose he was so -interested in the paper for?” - -Fudge frowned thoughtfully as he conveyed the last morsel of a generous -sandwich to his mouth. “You can’t tell. Maybe he was looking to see if -the police were on his track. Or maybe――――” - -But the bell cut short further speculation and, agreeing to meet after -school, they went back to the drudgery of learning. Perry had not had -time to ask Fudge what plan of procedure the latter had decided on, a -fact which interfered sadly with his work during the final session. -As it developed later, however, Fudge had not decided on the best -manner in which to continue the relentless pursuit of the criminal. As -they made their way to the athletic field Fudge talked a great deal -on the subject but, to Perry’s disappointment, didn’t seem to arrive -anywhere. It would be necessary, thought Fudge, to do a good deal of -watching before they could obtain enough evidence in the case. What -they ought to do, he declared, was to shadow the safe-breaker and never -let him out of their sight. But this, as Perry pointed out, was rather -impractical, considering that they had to spend most of the day in -school. Whereupon Fudge reminded him that Saturday was coming. - -“We’ll have the whole day then. The only thing I’m afraid of is that he -will pull it off before that and make his getaway. And, of course, if -we want to get the reward we’ve got to collar him before that.” - -“Reward?” echoed Perry. “What reward?” - -“Why, the reward for his apprehension.” - -“How do you know there’s any reward?” - -“I don’t _know_ it, but it stands to reason, doesn’t it, that there is -one? If that fellow’s wanted somewhere there’s sure to be a reward out -for him, and a description and all. I wish I knew how much it is!” - -“How much do you suppose?” asked Perry. - -“Oh, maybe five hundred dollars, maybe a thousand. It depends, you see, -on how much swag he got away with on his last job. Maybe he killed -someone. You can’t tell. Burglars are desperate folks when they’re -interrupted.” - -“I don’t think he’d kill anyone,” said Perry. “He doesn’t look that -sort.” - -Fudge, though, shook his head unconvincedly. “You can’t tell,” he said. -“Anyway, if he has, the reward’s bound to be bigger. You keep your eyes -peeled, Perry, and watch that window closely. I wouldn’t be surprised -if you discovered something mighty important in the next day or two. He -must be getting pretty nearly ready to do something.” - -“You don’t think, then, he has an accomplice?” asked Perry. - -“No, I don’t. He sort of looks like a man who’d work on his own hook. -It’s lots safer, you see, and he has a pretty wise face.” - -There, for the time being, the subject had to be abandoned, for they -had reached the field and confidential conversation was no longer -possible. - -Not only the baseball candidates were out to-day but some forty-odd -aspirants for positions on the Track Team. These were clustered at the -further side of the inclosure where the coach and trainer, “Skeet” -Presser, were, rather dubiously it seemed, looking them over. Guy -Felker, eighteen years of age and a senior, was captain this year, -and Arthur Beaton was manager. Beaton was checking off the candidates -from a list he held and Captain Felker was inquiring of no one in -particular “where the rest of them were.” Sixty-four names had gone -down on the notice-board in the school corridor and only forty-four had -shown up. “Skeet” explained the absence of a number of the delinquents -by reminding Guy that fellows couldn’t practice baseball and report -for track work both. Guy consented to become slightly mollified, and, -Manager Beaton having completed his checking, the coach and trainer -took charge. - -“Skeet” was a slight, wiry man of some thirty years, with a homely, -good-natured countenance and a pair of very sharp and shrewd black -eyes. He had been in his time a professional one- and two-miler of -prominence, but of late years had made a business of training. He -was regularly employed by the Clearfield Young Men’s Christian -Association, but his duties there did not occupy all his time and for -three seasons he had coached and trained the High School athletes, and -with a fair measure of success, since during his régime Clearfield -had once won overwhelmingly from her rival, Springdale, had once been -beaten decisively and had once lost the meeting by a bare three points. -This year, if Guy Felker could have his way, the purple of Clearfield -was to wave in gorgeous triumph over the blue of Springdale. - -The trouble was, however, that after the last defeat by her rival -Clearfield High School had rather lost enthusiasm for track and field -sports. The pendulum swung far over toward baseball, and this spring -it had been more than usually difficult to persuade fellows to come -out for the Track Team. Felker had posted notice after notice calling -for volunteers before his insistence had stirred up any response. Of -course there was a nucleus in the hold-overs from last season, but they -were not many and new material was badly needed if the Purple was to -make a real showing against the Blue. Within the last week the list on -the notice-board had grown encouragingly in length, though, and with -a half-hundred candidates to choose from it would seem that coach and -captain should have been encouraged. Unfortunately, though, a good -half of the aspirants were youngsters whose chances of making good were -decidedly slim, and “Skeet” and Guy Felker both realized that if, after -the final weeding out, they had twenty-five fellows to build the team -with they might consider themselves extremely fortunate. - -At least half of the candidates who reported this afternoon were in -street togs. Those who were not were taken by Guy for a slow run out -into the country and the others were dismissed with instructions to -report to-morrow dressed for work. Of the former were Fudge and Perry, -and it was their fortune to amble over the better part of two miles -at the tail-end of a strung-out procession of runners. Perry was in -the rear because Fudge was. Fudge was there because running was not -a strong point with him. If it hadn’t been for the occasional rests -allowed by the captain, Fudge would have dropped out, discouraged and -winded, long before they got back to the field. As it was, however, -he managed to remain within sight of the leaders. Once when, having -trotted up a hill, he subsided on a convenient ledge to regain his -breath, he voiced a protest. - -“Gee,” panted Fudge, “I don’t see any good in running all over the -landscape like this when you’re going to be a shot-putter! If I’d -known they were going to spring this on me I wouldn’t have signed for -the team!” - -“I guess maybe it’s good for you,” replied Perry, “whether you’re going -to throw weights or run or jump. Hadn’t we better start along again? -The others are nearly a quarter of a mile away now.” - -Fudge lifted a dejected head and viewed the situation. His face -brightened. “They’re going around the hill, Perry,” he said. “That’s -all right. We’ll just trot down this side and pick ’em up again at the -road.” - -Perry wanted to demur at that, but Fudge’s discomfort was so real that -he had to sympathize, and so they cut off to the right and reached the -bottom of the hill shortly after the first runners had passed. There -were many knowing grins as the two boys trotted out from the fringe of -trees. - -“Did you lose your way?” asked one chap solicitously. - -“No, I lost my breath,” replied Fudge. “Had to stop and look for it.” - -“‘And for numerous other reasons,’” remarked a voice behind him. - -Fudge glanced back with a scowl, but every face in sight was guileless -and innocent. - -Later, when they were making their way home from the field, Fudge -pulled his feet after him wearily and groaned every few yards. - -“I’ll be as stiff as a crutch to-morrow,” he sighed pessimistically. -“F-f-for two cents I’d tell Guy to find someone else to put his old -shot for him. I d-d-didn’t agree to be a b-b-b-blooming slave!” - -Still, he managed to drag himself around to Perry’s after supper and -until it was time for the theater to open they watched the window -across the yard. But they saw nothing, not even a light. Fudge feared -that their quarry had flown and accused Perry of scaring him away. “He -probably saw you watching him and has skipped out. Bet we’ll never see -him again!” - -“But I’m quite sure he didn’t see me,” expostulated the other. “He -didn’t look up once.” - -“That’s what you think. He must have seen you. Well, there goes five -hundred dollars!” - -“You don’t even know there was any reward for him, so what’s the good -of grouching about it?” - -But Fudge refused to cheer up and presently took his departure -gloomily. It is very easy to be a pessimist when one is weary, and -Fudge was very weary indeed! - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -LANNY STUDIES STEAM ENGINEERING - - -They were putting down a two-block stretch of new macadam on the -Lafayette Street extension. A bed of cracked stone, freshly sprinkled, -was receiving the weighty attention of the town’s biggest steam -roller as Lanny White strolled around the corner. _Chug-chug-chug! -Scrunch-scrunch-scrunch!_ Lanny paused, hands in pockets, and looked -on. Back and forth went the roller, the engineer skillfully edging it -toward the center of the road at the end of each trip. Further down -the street, where the workmen were tearing up the old dirt surface, a -second and much smaller roller stood idle, its boiler simmering and -purring. Lanny smiled. - -“Me for the little one,” he muttered, as he walked toward the smaller -roller. The engineer was a huge, good-natured looking Irishman with a -bristling red mustache, so large that he quite dwarfed the machine. He -had a bunch of dirty cotton waste in his hand and, apparently for the -want of something better to do, was rubbing it here and there about the -engine. He looked up as Lanny came to a stop alongside, met Lanny’s -smile and smiled back. Then he absent-mindedly mopped his face with -the bunch of waste, without, however, appreciable effect, and leaned -against the roller. - -“Gettin’ warm,” he volunteered. - -Lanny nodded, casting his eyes interestedly over the engine. - -“I should think that would be a pretty warm job in hot weather,” he -observed conversationally. - -“’Tis so. Put eighty or ninety pounds o’ shtame in her an’ she throws -out the hate somethin’ fierce.” - -“She’s smaller than the other one, isn’t she?” - -“Yep. We use this one for the sidewalk work gin’rally. But she’s good -for tearin’ up when she’s the spikes in her.” - -“Spikes?” asked Lanny. - -“Thim things.” The man picked up a steel spike some eight inches long -from the floor and showed Lanny how it was fixed in one of the numerous -holes bored in the surface of the roller. After that Lanny’s curiosity -led to all sorts of questions. At the engineer’s invitation he mounted -the platform and, under instruction, moved the roller backwards and -forwards and altered its course by the steering wheel and peered into -the glowing furnace under the boiler and listened to an exposition on -the subject of getting up steam and the purposes of the steam and water -gauges. The engineer was a willing teacher and Lanny an apt pupil, and -they both enjoyed themselves. - -“And what do you do with it at night?” asked Lanny innocently. “Do you -leave it here and put the fire out?” - -“Lave it here, yes, but I don’t put the fire out, lad. I just bank it -down, d’you see, an’ thin in the mornin’ I just rake her out a bit and -throw some more coal in and there she is.” - -“Oh, I see. And how much steam does she have to have to work on?” - -“Depends. Sixty pounds’ll carry her along on a level strate, but you -have to give her more on a grade.” - -“It’s quite interesting,” said Lanny. “And thanks for explaining it to -me.” - -“Sure, that’s all right,” replied the other good-naturedly. “Maybe, -though, you’ll be afther my job first thing I know.” He winked -humorously. - -Lanny smiled and shook his head. “I guess I’d be afraid to try to run -one of those alone,” he said. “It looks pretty difficult. How was it, -now, I started it before?” - -“Wid this.” The engineer tugged gently at the lever. “Try it again if -you like.” - -So Lanny stepped back on the platform and rolled the machine a few -yards up the road and back again and seemed quite pleased and proud. -Nevertheless he still denied that he would have the courage to -try to do it alone. “I guess I’d better start in and work up,” he -said smilingly. “Maybe I could get the job of night watchman for a -beginning. I suppose there is a watchman, isn’t there?” - -“There’s two or three of thim.” - -Lanny tried not to let his disappointment show. “That’s what I’ll do -then,” he laughed. “And if I get cold I’ll sit here by your boiler.” - -“Oh, there’s no watchman on this job,” said the other carelessly. “We -just put the lanterns up. That’s enough. It’s only where there’s a good -dale of travelin’ that they do be havin’ the watchman on the job. Well, -here’s where we get busy. Come along, you ould teakettle. The boss -wants you. So long, lad.” - -The little roller rumbled off up the road and Lanny, whistling softly, -wandered back the way he had come, stopping here and there to watch -operations. But once around the corner he no longer dawdled. He set out -at his best pace instead, went a block westward and one northward and -presently reached his destination, a house at the corner of Troutman -and B Streets. Dick Lovering’s blue runabout was in front of the gate -and Dick himself was sitting on the porch with Gordon Merrick. Gordon -was a clean-cut, live-looking boy of sixteen, a clever first-baseman -and an equally clever left end. He and Dick were close friends. They -had evidently been awaiting Lanny’s appearance, for they spied him the -moment he came into sight and before he had reached the gate Gordon -called eagerly: “All right, Lanny?” - -“Fine! I’m the best little chauffeur in the Street Department!” - -“Better not talk so loudly,” cautioned Dick. “Do you have to have a -license to run it?” - -Lanny chuckled. “I guess so, but I’ve lost mine. Say, fellows, it’s -dead easy!” He seated himself on the top step and fanned himself with -his cap. April was surprising Clearfield with a week of abnormally warm -weather and this Saturday morning was the warmest of all. “The chap was -awfully decent to me. It seems rather a shame to take him in the way I -did. He let me get on it and run it and showed me all about it. Why, -all you have to do――――” And thereupon Lanny went into technical details -with enthusiasm and explained until Gordon shut him off. - -“That’ll be about all, Lanny,” said Gordon. “As you’re going to attend -to the chauffeuring we don’t need to know all the secrets. All we want -to know is, can it be done?” - -“Of course! I’m telling you――――” - -“You’re spouting a lot of rot about steam pressure and gauges,” -interrupted Gordon firmly. “That’s your business, not ours. We’re only -passengers and――――” - -“Leave me out,” laughed Dick. “I refuse to ride on anything that -Lanny’s running, even a street roller.” - -“There won’t any of you ride,” said Lanny. “You’ll walk. And one of you -had better go ahead and carry a lantern in case we meet anything on the -way.” - -“Oh, shucks, it’s got a whistle, hasn’t it?” - -“Maybe, but I’m not going to blow it if it has, you silly idiot!” - -“Much obliged! Well, do we do it to-night or do we not?” - -“We do. The journey will start at nine sharp.” - -“Hadn’t we better wait until later?” asked Dick. “We don’t want to run -into the Superintendent of Streets or the fellow you were talking to.” - -“There’s no one out that way at night. There are only four or five -houses around there, anyway. We can take it to that first new cross -street, whatever its name is, and then back by Common Street to the -field. We won’t meet a soul. Besides, it’s going to take some time -to go all over that ground with the thing. It’s slower than Dick’s -runabout!” - -“Cast no aspersions on Eli,” warned Dick. “We might have a race, you -and I, eh? You in your――what make is it, by the way?” - -Lanny chuckled. “Well, it’s not very big,” he said, “and so I guess -maybe it’s a Ford!” - -“Who’s going along with us?” Gordon asked. - -“Just Way. Seeing that he’s manager――――” - -“Yes, and we may need someone along whose dad has a little money in -case we get caught! Will you fellows come here, then, about nine?” - -“You’d better leave me out of it,” said Dick. “I’m willing to share the -responsibility but I wouldn’t be any use to you. I’m an awful blunderer -when I try to stump around in the dark.” - -“You could go in Eli,” said Gordon, “and take me along.” - -“Nothing doing! You’ll walk ahead and lug the lantern,” declared Lanny. -“There’s no reason why Dick should bother to come. Besides, if there -did happen to be any trouble about it afterwards, he’d be much better -out of it. A football coach isn’t much use if he’s serving a year or -two in prison.” - -“What do you suppose they would do to us if they found out?” asked -Gordon thoughtfully. - -“Oh, who cares?” Lanny laughed gaily. “After all, we aren’t stealing -the thing; we’re just borrowing it.” - -“I guess Ned Burns would intercede with his stern uncle if we were -found out,” said Dick. “It might be a good idea to take Ned along!” he -added with a laugh. - -“Ned nothing!” Gordon’s tone was contemptuous. “Ned would get in front -of the old thing and get flattened out, like as not. Something would -happen to him surely. He can’t walk around the corner without breaking -a leg!” - -“What’s the matter with him now?” asked Lanny interestedly. “Some -fellow told me he was laid up again.” - -“Didn’t you hear? Why, he was standing on a crossing on Common Street -one day last week and an automobile came along and ran over his foot! -Everyone around declared that the chap in the auto blew his horn loud -enough to wake the dead. But it didn’t wake Ned!” - -“Hurt him much?” asked Lanny, laughing. - -“Broke a bone in one toe, they say. Honest, I saw Ned walk along G -Street one day last winter and run into exactly three hydrants! He’s a -wonder!” - -“He certainly is! And I guess we’d better leave Ned at home. Three of -us are enough, anyway. What time does the moon show up to-night?” - -“It hasn’t told me,” replied Gordon gravely. - -“Well, we’ll need it to see what we’re doing. About ten, though, I -think. Is that twelve o’clock striking? Gee, I must run along. I -promised my mother I’d dig up a flower bed this morning. See you later, -fellows.” - -“Wait a second and I’ll drop you around there,” said Dick, reaching -for his crutches. “By the way, Gordie, if you see Way tell him not to -forget to stop and get half a dozen new balls. I told him yesterday, -but he’s likely to forget it. And don’t you forget that practice is at -two-thirty to-day!” - -“Ay, ay, sir! Can we have a game to-day, Dick?” - -“Yes, but I want a good hour’s work beforehand. Turn her over, will -you, Lanny? I’m going to have a self-starter put on her some day if I -can find the money.” - -Eli Yale, that being the full name of the blue runabout, rolled out of -sight up B Street toward Lanny’s home and Gordon, reminded by Lanny’s -remark of his own duties in the way of gardening, descended the porch -and passed around the side of the house toward the shed in search of -a spade. As he came in sight of the apple tree in the next yard he -glanced inquiringly toward the platform. It was, however, empty. - -“I wonder,” muttered Gordon, “where Fudge is keeping himself. I haven’t -seen him around for almost a week.” - -Could he have caught sight of his neighbor at that moment he would -probably have been somewhat surprised. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE NEW SIGN - - -“Quit wobbling!” hissed Fudge. - -“All right, but hurry up,” returned Perry in a hoarse whisper. “See -anything?” - -“N-no, nothing much. There’s a table――what’s that?” - -Fudge stopped abruptly and listened. Footfalls sounded in the hall -below and, releasing his clutch on the ledge of the transom, Fudge -wriggled from Perry’s supporting arms and descended to the floor. - -“Someone’s coming!” he whispered. “Beat it!” - -They “beat it” into the empty room across the corridor just as the -intruder’s head came into sight above the landing. Fudge, watching -through the crack of the partly-open door, beheld a man in overalls -carrying a square of black tin. He passed on to the door they had -just retreated from, set down his box, pushed a battered derby hat to -the back of his head and regarded the portal thoughtfully. Finally -he produced an awl, a screwdriver and some screws from different -pockets and proceeded to attach the square of tin to the middle panel. -The conspirators watched with vast curiosity. There was printing -on the tin, but not until the man had completed his task and gone -were they able to read it. Then they stole out and regarded the sign -interestedly. This is what they saw: - - MYRON ADDICKS, - CIVIL ENGINEER - -They viewed each other questioningly and doubtfully. - -“Civil Engineer,” mused Fudge. “That’s a funny game. Of course, that -isn’t his real name.” - -“Let’s get out of here,” said Perry uneasily. “He might come back.” - -They went down the stairs and emerged on the sidewalk after Fudge had -peered cautiously from the doorway. “I suppose,” muttered Fudge, “we -oughtn’t to be seen together. He may be watching from across the street -somewhere.” He viewed the windows of the opposite stores and houses -suspiciously but without result. In another minute they were seated on -Perry’s front steps. - -“What did you see through the transom?” asked Perry. - -“Nothing much. There’s a cot bed in one corner with a screen around it, -and a table with a lot of books and things on it, and a funny table -with a sloping top, and a little table near the window, and two or -three chairs――――” Fudge paused, searching his memory. “That’s all, I -guess. There’s a closet in the corner across from the bed, though. And, -oh, yes, there was a trunk near the door. I could just see the edge of -it. I’ll bet if we could get a look in that trunk we’d find evidence -enough, all right!” - -“But――but if he’s really a civil engineer,” objected Perry, “maybe -we’re all wrong about him.” - -Fudge jeered. “What would a civil engineer be doing playing a piano in -a movie theater? And why would he wear a false mustache? Or dress up -like a cowboy? He’s no more of a civil engineer than I am!” - -“Myron’s an unusual name,” mused Perry. - -“You wouldn’t expect him to call himself John Smith, would you? Folks -would suspect right away that it was a――an assumed name. He’s foxy, -that chap. I’ll just bet you anything that he’s a regular top-notcher! -And I’ll bet there’s a whaling big reward out for him, too!” - -“Well, I don’t see that we’ve found out very much to-day,” said Perry. -“We’ve been after him ever since half-past eight, and all we know is -that he calls himself ‘Myron Addicks, Civil Engineer’ and has a trunk -and a bed and three tables in his room.” - -“That’s a whole lot,” replied Fudge emphatically. “That sign proves -that he’s a faker, doesn’t it?” - -“Well, it doesn’t exactly _prove_ it,” returned the other. - -“Of course it does! You don’t suppose anyone really ever had such a -name as ‘Myron Addicks,’ do you? And I guess you never saw a civil -engineer playing a piano in a theater, did you? And what about the -disguise?” - -There was no getting around the disguise, and Perry hedged. “Well, -anyway, we’ve got to find out more than we have yet, Fudge.” - -“Oh, we’ll find things out all right. And I guess we’ve got plenty of -time. That sign shows that he means to hang around here awhile, you -see. If he was going to crack a safe within a few days he wouldn’t go -to all that trouble. I guess he’s about as slick as they make them. -Say, what time is it? I’ve got to get home!” - -“About half-past twelve. Do we have to do any more shadowing this -afternoon?” - -Fudge shook his head. “No, he’ll be in the theater from two to -half-past four. Anyway, I’ve got to think over the new evidence before -we go on. We――we’ve got to proceed very carefully. If he should suspect -anything――well, it might go hard with us.” - -“I wish,” said Perry dubiously, “we could find out if there really is -a reward out for him. Only, if there was, I don’t suppose we could get -it.” - -“Why couldn’t we?” demanded Fudge warmly. “All we’d have to do would -be to go to the police and say: ‘Come across with the reward and we’ll -lead you to your man!’ That’s all we’d have to do. Of course I could go -to the police station and ask what rewards are out, but, you see, that -might make them suspicious. All they’d have to do would be to shadow us -and find out about him and――bing!――good-night, reward!” Fudge shook his -head. “We won’t give them any chance to do us out of it. Well, so long. -Going out to the field this afternoon?” - -“Are you?” - -Fudge nodded. “Guess so. Come on and watch practice. Maybe they’ll -have a game to-day. Stop for me about two, will you?” - -Perry agreed and Fudge took himself off, for once neglecting to proceed -along the street with his usual caution. If an enemy had been lurking -behind one of the maple trees, Fudge would have stood a poor chance of -escape! Perry dragged his tired feet into the house and up the stairs, -reflecting that this game of shadowing was far more wearying than the -long, slow runs that had fallen to his lot the last three days. He was -very thankful that work for the track candidates was to be omitted this -afternoon. - -However, he felt better after dinner and sitting in the sun on the -stand with Fudge and watching baseball practice was not a very wearing -occupation. Dick Lovering put the fellows through a good hour of -batting and fielding and then picked two teams from the more promising -material and let them play five innings. Tom Haley was in the box for -the First Team and Tom Nostrand pitched for the Second. The First was -made up about as everyone expected it would be, with Captain Jones at -shortstop, Lanny catching, Gordon Merrick on first, Harry Bryan on -second, Will Scott on third, George Cotner in left field, Pete Farrar -in center and Joe Browne in right. Bert Cable umpired. A hundred -or more fellows had come out to the field to look on, attracted by -the rumor of a line-up, and they were rewarded by a very scrappy, -hard-fought contest. There were many errors, but, as they were fairly -apportioned to each team, they added to rather than detracted from the -interest. - -The Scrubs tied the score up in the third when Lanny, seeking to kill -off a runner at second, threw the ball two yards to the left of base -and two tallies came in. At four runs each the game went into the last -of the fourth inning. Then an error by the Second Team’s first-baseman, -followed by a wild throw to third by catcher, brought Gordon Merrick -in and placed the First Team in the lead. And there it stayed, for, -although the Second started a rally in their half of the fifth and -managed to get men on first and second bases with but one out, Tom -Haley settled down and fanned the next batsman and brought the game to -an end by causing his rival in the points, Tom Nostrand, to pop up an -easy fly to Warner Jones. - -Before Fudge and Perry were out of sight of the field Dick’s runabout -sped past with Gordon Merrick beside the driver and Curtis Wayland -perched on the floor with his knees doubled up under his chin. The -occupants of the car waved and Way shouted something that Perry didn’t -catch. - -“What did he say?” Perry asked as the car sped around the corner. - -“I don’t know,” muttered Fudge. “He’s a fresh kid, anyway.” - -Fudge, however, was not quite truthful, for Way’s remark had reached -him very clearly. - -“I thought,” said Perry innocently, “he said something about the -springs.” - -Fudge viewed him suspiciously, but, discovering his countenance -apparently free of guile, only grunted. - -In the runabout the three boys were discussing the afternoon’s -performance. “It didn’t go badly for a first game,” hazarded Way. “But -wasn’t that a weird peg of Lanny’s?” - -“There were several weird things about that game,” said Gordon. “My -hitting was one of them. We’ll have to do better next Saturday if we’re -going to beat Norrisville.” - -“Who said we were going to?” asked Dick mildly. - -Gordon laughed. “Well, then, give them a fight,” he corrected. - -“Oh, we’ll do that, I guess,” Dick replied. “Another week of practice -will make a difference. We’ll get rid of some of the crowd about -Wednesday and then we’ll have room to turn around out there. Warner -thinks we ought to keep two full nines for the First, but I don’t see -the use of it if we have the Second to play with. What do you think?” - -“No use at all,” said Way. “Just a lot of soreheads sitting around on -the bench and kicking because they can’t play every minute. Besides, -there aren’t enough good ball players in the lot to make three teams.” - -“No, I don’t think there are. That’s what I told Warner. He wanted to -pick out eighteen or twenty and then make up the Second from what was -left.” - -“A peach of a Second it would be,” jeered Gordon. - -“I guess we’ll stick to last year’s idea,” continued the coach, “and -keep about sixteen fellows, including pitchers. I wish, by the way, we -had another good twirler. We’ll have to find one somewhere.” - -“Joe Browne can pitch a little, Dick,” Way suggested. “You might see -what you can do with him. He hasn’t got much, I guess, but a pretty -fair straight ball and a sort of out-curve, but he might learn.” - -“All right, we’ll see what we can do with him. A player who can work in -the field and the box too is a pretty handy chap to have around. If he -can do well enough to start some of the early games we won’t have to -keep more than fifteen players. Here you are, Way. Everything all right -for to-night?” - -“I guess so. Lanny’s going to leave the big gate open so we can get the -thing in. I hope he doesn’t forget it. I’ll call him up at supper time -and find out. Sure you don’t want to come along, Dick?” - -“Quite sure. I’d only be in the way. And you’ll have plenty without me. -Good luck to you. Don’t get caught!” - -“If we do we’ll get you to bail us out,” laughed Way, as he swung the -gate to behind him. “Nine o’clock sharp, Gordon!” - -Gordon nodded and the car went on again. “I’m rather afraid you’ll get -nabbed,” remarked Dick. “But I don’t suppose anyone would be nasty -about it. If I were you fellows I’d cut and run, Gordie, if anything -happened.” - -“I suppose we will,” Gordon replied. “If we do I hope Lanny will turn -off the engine before he jumps!” - -“Well, drop around in the morning and let me hear about it,” said the -other as Gordon jumped out at his gate. “If I don’t see an announcement -of your arrest in the paper I’ll take it that you got through all -right.” - -“You won’t see any announcement of my arrest,” laughed Gordon. “I can -run faster than any cop on the force, Dick!” - -“Well, see that you do! So long!” - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE BORROWED ROLLER - - -Some twelve years before a large tract of marsh and meadow lying west -of the town and southeast of the river where it turns toward the sea -had been purchased by Mr. Jonathan Brent. At the time no one conceived -that any of the land except possibly a few blocks just beyond A Street -would ever be marketable as residence lots. But Mr. Brent had gradually -filled in, driving back the twisting creeks that meandered about the -land, until many acres had been redeemed. Several new streets were -laid out and Mr. Brent, retaining for his own occupancy a full block -between Sawyer and Troutman Streets, had built himself a very handsome -residence. “Brentwood” was quite the finest mansion in Clearfield. When -finished it was two blocks beyond the westernmost house in town, but -it did not remain so long. Brent’s Addition proved popular and many -citizens bought lots there and built, in some cases abandoning homes in -the middle of town that were already being elbowed by business blocks. -Between Main and Common Streets, three blocks north of “Brentwood,” -two squares had been left undivided and this ground was now the High -School Athletic Field. West of that, building had not progressed to any -great extent as yet, although a few houses were scattered about the -recently-made area. It was in this locality at about half-past nine -that Saturday night Lanny, Gordon, Way and one other found the street -rollers. - -The fourth member of the expedition was Morris Brent. Morris, it -seemed, had recalled the fact that he had left a tennis racket and some -balls on the court at the side of the house and had gone out to bring -them in. On his return he had chanced to look toward the front gate and -had glimpsed the three figures going west along Troutman Street. There -was nothing extraordinary about that, but Morris had been impressed -with a certain stealthiness displayed by the trio, and had also caught -sight of a tow head under the dim light of a street lamp. Thereupon -Morris had abandoned racket and balls on the front steps and hastened -after the conspirators, finding that his surmise as to the identity -of the light-haired youth was correct. His advent was welcomed, the -purpose of the expedition explained to him and the trio became a -quartette. - -Save Morris not a person was glimpsed from Gordon’s house to their -destination. The only person they were likely to meet was the policeman -on that beat, and, since he had to cover a deal of territory, and was -known to have a partiality for the better lighted district nearest -town, the boys considered their chances of evading him were excellent. -Making certain that there was no watchman about, they approached the -smaller of the two rollers and considered it. It would have to be -turned around and run back a half-block to the next street, north two -blocks and then east to the Common Street side of the athletic field. -The first difficulty that presented itself was that, contrary to the -statement of the engineer, the fire under the boiler was not banked. In -fact, there was very little fire there. This was explained by Morris. -Being Saturday, he said, the engineers had left their fires to go out -so they would not have to tend them until Monday morning. - -“Isn’t that the dickens?” asked Lanny. He lifted down a red lantern -that hung from the engine and dubiously examined the steam gauge. -“About ten pounds,” he muttered. “She won’t stir a step on that!” - -“Guess, then, we’d better try it some other time,” said Way. - -“No, sir, we’re going to do it to-night,” responded Lanny, after a -moment’s consideration. “If we wait until the first of the week the -field may dry off, and we want to roll it while it’s still moist. The -only thing to do is to get this fire going and make steam. It’ll take -some time, but we can do it.” - -“Easy,” agreed Morris. Being newly admitted to the conspiracy, Morris -was filled with enthusiasm. “Set the lantern down, Lanny, and I’ll -shovel some coal on.” - -“All right. I’ll rake it a bit first, though.” This was done and then, -from the bin, Morris got several shovelfuls of soft coal and sprinkled -it gingerly over the dying fire. Drafts were opened and the quartette -sat down to wait. Fortunately, the night was fairly warm, otherwise the -ensuing period might have been distinctly unpleasant, for this newer -part of Brent’s Addition was beautifully level, and what breeze was -stirring came across the land unimpeded by anything larger than the -two-inch shade trees along the incipient sidewalks. They talked in low -tones, keeping a careful watch meanwhile for the policeman. The last -street light was at the end of the block and so, save for the lanterns -left by the workmen, they were in the darkness. Lanny, though, pointed -to the sky back of the town. “The moon’s coming up,” he said, “and I’d -like mighty well to be inside the field before it gets in its work.” - -“Same here,” agreed Gordon. The next instant he uttered a cautioning -“_S-s-sh!_” and flattened himself out against the side of the roller. -Half a block away the officer on the beat had suddenly emerged from the -shadows and was standing under the light, gazing, as it seemed to the -boys, most interestedly toward them. There was a minute of suspense. -“Think he saw us?” whispered Gordon. - -“Search me,” said Lanny. “I wish we’d had the sense to put the lantern -back on the other side where we got it. Here he comes!” - -The officer had begun a slow but determined approach. - -“Keep in the shadows,” advised Lanny, “and beat it back to the other -roller! Don’t let him see you!” - -Silently, like four indistinct shadows, the boys slipped from their -places and, keeping as best they could the dark bulk of the roller -between them and the approaching policeman, scuttled up the road to -where the larger machine stood. There was one doubtful moment when the -light of the red lantern fell upon them just before they dodged behind -the big roller. - -“He will see the fire and know that something’s up,” whispered Way. -“Let’s skip, fellows!” - -“Hold on a minute,” advised Lanny. “Maybe he won’t. Wait and see.” - -They peered anxiously around the edges of the big wheel behind which -they were hidden. The policeman was dimly visible as he walked about -the smaller roller. Finally he stopped and swung his stick a moment, -picked up the red lantern and set it in the road beside the machine -and, at last, slowly ambled back along the street. Breathlessly and -hopefully they watched him reach the corner and disappear without a -backward look. For a long two minutes after that they listened to the -sound of his footsteps dying away on the new granolithic sidewalk. Then: - -“Saved!” murmured Morris dramatically. - -“Come on,” said Lanny. “We’ll have to get that old shebang going even -if we have to push it! The moon will be up in a few minutes.” - -When they got back there was an encouraging purring sound from the -engine and, without disturbing the lantern, Lanny borrowed a match from -Morris and read the gauge. “Forty-something,” he muttered as the light -flickered out. “We’ll try her, anyway. Sneak back there to the corner, -Gordon, and see if you can hear or see anything of the cop. And hurry -back. I’ll get her swung around, anyway.” - -Gordon scouted off and Lanny, while the other two boys held their -breath anxiously, pulled a lever here, pushed something there and -turned the wheel. There was a hiss, a jar, a _clank_ and a rumble and -the roller slowly moved away from the curbing. - - “She starts, she moves, she seems to feel - The thrill of life along her keel!” - -murmured Morris poetically as Lanny sought excitedly for the reversing -lever in the darkness. The roller stopped suddenly and as suddenly -began to back. Way, who had followed close behind, had just time to -jump aside with a suppressed yelp before the ponderous machine struck -the curb with an alarming jolt. - -“Keep her head down!” exclaimed Morris. “Don’t let her throw you, -Lanny!” - -“Give me that lantern up here,” panted the amateur engineer. “I can’t -see what I’m doing.” - -Way handed the lantern to him and he hung it on a projection in -front of him. After that progress was less erratic. It required much -maneuvering to get the roller headed the other way, but Lanny at last -accomplished the difficult feat. Gordon returned to report that all -was quiet. More coal was put into the furnace and the journey begun. -Lanny’s plan to have someone walk ahead with a lantern was abandoned. -Instead the light was put out and Lanny trusted to the faint radiance -of the moon which was not yet quite above the house-tops. The corner -was negotiated without difficulty and the Flying Juggernaut, as Gordon -dubbed the machine, swung into a smooth, newly-surfaced street over -which she moved easily if not silently. Gordon and Morris strode ahead -to watch for obstructions and give warning while Way, as a sort of rear -guard, remained behind in case pursuit appeared from that direction. - -What each of the four marveled at was why the entire town did not turn -out to discover the reason for the appalling noise! Perhaps the sound -of the steam roller’s passage was not as deafening as they imagined, -but to them it seemed that the thumping and rattling and groaning could -easily be heard on the other side of town! If it was, though, nothing -came of it. Slowly but with a sort of blind inexorability quite awesome -the Juggernaut proceeded on her way. Lanny, his hand on the lever that -would bring her to a stop, stood at his post like a hero, ready, -however, to cut and run at the first alarm. It seemed the better part -of an hour to him before the two blocks were traversed and Morris came -back to announce that Common Street was reached. Over went the wheel -and the Flying Juggernaut, grazing the curbing with a nerve-destroying -rasp of steel against stone, turned toward the side entrance of the -field. On the left now were several houses. Lights shone from windows. -The boys held their breath as the last leg of the journey began. -Suppose that, hearing the noise and viewing the unusual sight of a -steam roller parading through the street at half-past ten o’clock, some -busy-body should telephone to the police station! Morris didn’t like -to think of it, and so, naturally, he mentioned it to Gordon. Gordon -assured him that the contingency had already occurred to him and that -if he saw a front door open he meant to disappear from the scene with -unprecedented celerity, or words to that effect! - -But the suspense ended at last, for there, on the right, a break in the -shadowed darkness of the high fence, was the open gate. Lanny swung the -roller far to the left and turned toward the entrance. Then, however, -a problem confronted them, which was how to get it over the curbing! -They hadn’t planned for that. The sidewalk was a good six inches above -the street level, and, bringing the Juggernaut to a stop――the sudden -silence was absolutely uncanny!――Lanny invited ideas. Morris offered -the desperate plan of backing the roller to the far side of the street -and putting on all steam. “Sort of lift her over, Lanny,” he urged. -Lanny told him he was an idiot; that this thing was a steam roller and -not a horse. In the end Morris, Way and Gordon went inside to look for -planks or beams to lay along the curb, while Lanny, not too contented -with his task, remained to guard the roller. They were gone a long -time, or so, at least, it seemed to the engineer, but returned at last -with enough lumber of varying lengths and thicknesses to answer the -purpose. In the light of the inquiring moon, which was now sailing -well above the tree-tops, they snuggled the planks and joists against -the curbing, forming an abrupt but practical runway, and, giving the -Juggernaut all the steam there was, Lanny persuaded her to take the -incline and to roll majestically through the gate and into the field. -No sooner was she inside than Gordon swung the gate shut and secured -it, and four boys, with one accord, drew four long, deep-drawn breaths -of relief! - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -GORDON DESERTS HIS POST - - -After that they listened cautiously, but heard only the soft sizzling -of the engine which had a contented sound as though the Flying -Juggernaut was quite as rejoiced at the successful outcome of the -venture as they were! More coal was put on, the grate was raked and -Lanny contentedly announced that there was a sixty-pound head of steam -on. By this time the field was bathed in moonlight save where the -stands cast their black shadows, and the task remaining could not fail -for lack of light. Forward moved the Juggernaut and there began the -work of smoothing out the inequalities of Brent Field. Perhaps had -Lanny realized the size of the task he would never have ventured on it. -Back and forth, commencing at the infield end, rumbled and clanked the -roller, each time covering some four feet of sward and gravel. An hour -passed and they were still only as far as first and third base. Gordon -voiced doubts. - -“At this rate, Lanny, we won’t reach the fence back there before -breakfast time. Can’t you make her go any faster?” - -“No, I can’t,” replied the engineer shortly, “and if you don’t like the -way I’m doing this suppose you take a whack at it yourself.” - -“No, thanks. I’d probably run her right through the stand over there. -I’m not criticising your handling of the thing, Lanny, but it’s getting -a bit chilly and I’m sleepy and――――” - -“Go on home then. I guess I can do this all right alone.” - -“Well, don’t be grouchy,” said Way. “After all, you’re the only one of -us who’s getting any fun out of it. Just walking back and forth like -this isn’t awfully exciting. Gee, I wish I had my sweater!” - -“Tell you what,” said Morris. “I’ll beat it down town and get some hot -coffee!” - -“Oh, noble youth!” applauded Gordon. “Get a gallon of it, Morris! And -some sandwiches――――” - -“Or hot-dogs,” interpolated Way. - -“With plenty of mustard!” - -“Who’s got any money? I don’t think I’ve got more than fifteen or -twenty cents. Dig down, fellows.” - -They “dug” and a minute later Morris was on his way with the -sufficient sum of eighty cents jingling in his pocket. Cheered by the -anticipation of hot coffee and food, the others were restored to good -humor. Lanny said he guessed the old concern would get along just as -fast if they all got on it. They tried it and could see no difference -in the rate of progress, and being near the boiler was a lot warmer -than walking along in the little breeze that had come up with the moon. -At Gordon’s suggestion, Lanny instructed him in running the machine -and, after a few trips back and forth, he took Lanny’s place at the -throttle while the latter was glad to get down and stretch his legs. -They completed the diamond and started on the outfield. Lanny declared -that the work was a huge success, that the ground where they had rolled -was as hard and level as a billiard table. - -“Of course,” he added, “it would be a lot better if we could go over it -two or three times.” - -“Maybe,” said Gordon hurriedly, “but we’re not going over it two or -three times, you simple idiot! Once is enough. My folks hate to have me -late for breakfast!” - -“One good thing,” said Way, “is that to-morrow――no, to-day――is Sunday -and we have breakfast later.” - -“So do we,” replied Gordon, “but I’m wondering if I can sneak in -without being caught. Wish I’d thought to unlock the porch window. I -supposed we’d be all done with this by twelve!” - -“If we get it done by four we’ll be lucky, I guess,” said Lanny. “There -comes Morris.” - -“I could only get a quart,” panted Morris as he came up. “The chap in -the lunch wagon was afraid he’d run short if he gave me any more. Here -are some paper cups; got those at the drug store. And here’s your grub; -eight ham and three hot-dog sandwiches.” - -“Three?” ejaculated Gordon. - -“Yes, I ate one on the way. Stop your old pushcart till we feed.” - -“Better keep her going,” said Lanny. “We can eat _en voyage_.” - -“Didn’t get any of that,” replied Morris flippantly. “They were all out -of it. Hold your cup, Way. Is it hot? I came back as fast as I could, -but――――” - -“Don’t you worry,” sputtered Way. “It’s hot enough to scald you. Good, -too! M-mm!” - -For several minutes conversation ceased and only the rumble and clank -of the roller broke the silence. Then, when the last crumb was gone and -the paper cups had been added to the flames, there were four contented -grunts. “That’s better,” said Lanny. “I’m good for all night now. Let -me have her, Gordon.” - -“Wait a bit. I’m having too good a time. What time is it?” - -“About quarter to one,” answered Way, studying the face of his watch in -the moonlight. - -“That’s not so bad. How much more have we got, Lanny?” - -“I’d say we’d done just about half,” was the reply. “Better stop her -and coal up a little.” - -“No stops this trip,” answered Gordon. “Coal ahead. I’ll get over here.” - -“What’s the matter with letting me work her a bit?” asked Morris, when -the door was shut again. “Seeing that I saved your lives――――” - -“Morris, old pal,” replied Gordon, gravely, “this requires science and -experience. I’d let you take her in a minute, but if anything happened -to her I’d be held responsible. You can be fireman, though, and shovel -coal.” - -“Next time you can get your own coffee,” grumbled Morris. “I had just -enough money, by the way, to pay the lunch wagon chap, but I had to -charge the drinking cups to you, Gordon.” - -“That’s more than I could do at Castle’s,” laughed Gordon. “Whoa! Gee, -I didn’t know that track was so close!” - -“Get out of there before you go through the fence,” said Lanny, pushing -him aside. “Do you suppose we’d ought to roll the track, too, fellows?” - -A chorus of “No’s” answered him. “Wouldn’t do the least bit of good,” -added Way. “The track’s in rotten shape anyhow. I don’t see why we have -to have the old thing. It’s only in the way. If you have to go back for -a long fly it’s a safe bet you fall over the rim. What we ought to do -is sod it over and――――” - -“Tell that to Guy Felker,” advised Gordon. “Have you done any work with -the team yet, Lanny?” - -“I’ve had a couple of trials just to see what I could do. Guy is after -me to give him three afternoons a week. I suppose I’ll have to pretty -soon.” - -“Oh, bother the Track Team,” said Way. “It won’t amount to anything and -you’ll lose baseball practice. Cut it out this year, Lanny.” - -“Not much! If it came to a show-down I’d rather run the hundred and -two-twenty than play ball. And don’t you be mistaken about the team -being no good. We’re going to have a mighty good team this year and -we’re going to simply run away from Springdale. You wait and see.” - -“What of it if we do?” grumbled Way. “Who cares?” - -“Most everyone except you, you old pudding-head,” responded Gordon. -“Want me to take her awhile now, Lanny?” - -“No, thank you kindly. Guy’s having a pretty hard time to get fellows -interested in the track, and that’s a fact, but he’s going to win -out all right. Don’t go around talking like that, Way, because it -isn’t fair. Just because you don’t care for track sports, you needn’t -discourage other fellows.” - -“Oh, I haven’t said anything to discourage anyone. For that matter, if -Guy wants to get a team together I wish him luck. But I don’t think -there’s room for football and baseball and track, too. We ought to――to -concentrate.” - -“Rot! Let’s beat Springdale at every old thing we can. Them’s my -sentiments,” announced Morris. “If we could do ’em up at tiddley-winks -I’d be in favor of starting a team!” - -“And I suppose you’d play left wink on it,” laughed Way. - -It was well after three o’clock before the Flying Juggernaut completed -her last trip across the field and the moon was well down toward the -west. Four very tired boys――and sleepy, too, now that the effects -of the coffee were working off――rolled across to the gate, unbarred -it, rolled through, closed it behind them, and set off again along -Common Street. Somehow they cared less about discovery now and didn’t -even take the trouble to lower their voices as they rumbled past the -darkened houses. Morris announced that they had made a mistake in -the name of the steam roller; that its right name was “Reverberating -Reginald.” The others were too sleepy to argue about it, however. - -Gordon, who had taken Lanny’s place at the wheel, turned into the -cross street and headed Reginald toward his berth. They didn’t take -the precaution to send scouters ahead now, and perhaps it wasn’t worth -while since the street lay plainly before them for several blocks. And -perhaps what happened would have happened just the same. Lanny always -insisted that it wouldn’t, but never could prove his point. At all -events, what did happen was this: - -Just as they had trundled over the crossing at Main Street a voice -reached them above the noise of the roller and a figure suddenly -stepped into the road a few yards ahead. One very startled glance at -the figure was sufficient. With a fine unanimity four forms detached -themselves from the sheltering gloom of the steam roller and fled -back along the road. Possibly the policeman was so surprised at the -sudden result of his challenge that pursuit did not occur to him, or, -possibly, the continued stately advance of the steam roller in his -direction disconcerted him. At all events the boys became mere flying -shapes in the distance before the officer took action. When he did he -stepped nimbly out of the path of the roller and remarked stentoriously -as it rumbled by: - -“Hi, there! What’s this? Where you goin’ with that roller, hey?” - -As there was no response he went after it, discovering to his surprise -that the reason he had received no reply was that there was no one -there to offer it! What occurred subsequently would have hugely -diverted a spectator had there been one, which there wasn’t. On and -on went the roller, moving further and further toward the sidewalk, -and on and on trotted the policeman, making ineffectual efforts to -board it. He had a very healthy respect for engines and wasn’t at all -certain that this one might not resent his company. At last, however, -desperation gave him courage and he stumbled onto the platform and -began to pull, push or twist every movable thing he could lay hands -on. The results were disconcerting. A cloud of white steam burst forth -from somewhere with an alarming rush and hiss, a shrill, excruciating -whistle shattered the night and a tiny stream of very hot water -sprayed down his sleeve! But the roller kept right on rolling, -majestically, remorselessly! - -The policeman gave up in despair and rapped loudly with his club for -assistance. At that moment the roller, heedless of his appeal, reached -the intersection of Lafayette Street and, no longer restrained by the -curbing against which it had been grinding, angled purposefully across -and collided violently with a lamp-post. The lamp-post gave appreciably -under the unexpected assault and the light flared wildly and expired. -The steam roller, although its further progress was barred, kept on -revolving its big wheels and the policeman, picking himself up, rescued -his helmet from the coal-box and hurried from the scene. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -ON DICK’S PORCH - - -“After that,” said Gordon, “I don’t know just what did happen. I was -too busy getting away from there to look back. I cut across an open -field and got into the shadow of the fence on Louise Street and pretty -soon Way came along. Where Lanny and Morris got to I don’t know. Maybe -they’re still running!” - -It was Sunday morning and Gordon and Dick were seated on the latter’s -porch. Dick, who had listened to his friend’s narration with much -amusement, laughed again. - -“And you forgot to turn off the steam before you jumped, eh?” - -“No, I didn’t exactly forget to,” replied Gordon judicially. “I thought -of it, all right, but I couldn’t locate the throttle thing. You see, -it all happened so suddenly that there wasn’t time to do much but run. -That silly cop must have been standing in front of the little shed the -contractors put up out there last year and we never suspected he was -anywhere around until he jumped out on us about twenty feet ahead. He -shouldn’t have done that. He might have caused us heart-failure.” - -“Haven’t you been over yet to see what happened to the roller?” Dick -asked. - -“I have not,” was the emphatic reply. “Maybe this afternoon I’ll sort -of happen out there, but it might look suspicious if I went this -morning. I suppose there’ll be a dickens of a row about it. There -wasn’t anything in the paper, was there?” Gordon glanced at the Sunday -_Reporter_ on Dick’s knees. - -“No, but I suppose the paper was out before it happened. Do you think -the policeman recognized any of you?” - -“I don’t know. He might. We didn’t give him much chance, but, still, -it was broad moonlight. Gee, I’d like to know what happened to that -roller!” - -“Call up the police station and ask,” suggested Dick gravely. - -“Yes, I will!” But Gordon’s tone contradicted the statement. “Guess -I’ll call up Lanny and see if he got home. I had a fine time getting -in. There wasn’t a window unlatched and I had to squirm through the -coal hole. I made a horrible noise when I dropped, too. I thought the -coal would never get through sliding!” - -“Did you get caught?” - -Gordon shook his head doubtfully. “I guess mother knows, all right, but -I don’t think dad does. Anyway, he didn’t say anything. It was fierce -having to get up at eight o’clock! I felt like a――a――――” - -“You still look like it,” laughed Dick. “Well, anyway, you got the job -done, and that’s something, even if you do go to jail for a while!” - -“What do you suppose they’ll do?” asked Gordon uneasily. - -“Oh, I don’t believe they’ll be hard on you. Maybe a small fine and a -month in jail.” - -“Quit your kidding! If I go to jail I’ll see that you come, too.” - -“I’ve always understood that there was honor even amongst thieves,” -responded the other, “but I see that I was――hello, see who’s here!” - -It was Lanny who closed the gate behind him and walked up the short -path with a weary grin on his face. “Good morning,” he said, as he -sank to the top step and leaned his head against the pillar. “Also -good-night.” He closed his eyes and snored loudly. - -“What became of you?” asked Gordon. - -“What became of me?” Lanny opened his eyes protestingly. “When do you -mean?” - -“Last night, of course. Where did you run to?” - -“Last night? Run? I don’t understand you. I went to bed quite early -last night and slept very nicely. Once I thought I heard a noise, a -sort of jarring, rumbling noise, but I paid no attention to it. What a -beautiful morning it is! ‘O Beauteous Spring, thou art――――’” His head -settled back against the pillar again. - -The others laughed, and Dick remarked soberly: “I suppose you’ve heard -that they got Morris?” - -Lanny opened his eyes once more and winked gravely. “I just had him -on the phone a few minutes ago.” He smiled wanly. “He couldn’t get in -the house when he got back and had to sleep out in the stable in a -carriage.” - -“How about you?” asked Gordon. - -Lanny waved a hand carelessly. “No trouble at all. Merely shinned up -a water-spout and got in the linen closet window. Then I fell over a -carpet-sweeper and went to bed. I shall insist on having a latch-key -after this.” - -“But where the dickens did you and Morris run to?” insisted Gordon. “I -never saw you once after I turned into the field.” - -“By that time I was shinning up the spout,” replied Lanny. “You see, -I had a fine start on you, Gordie. I don’t know just what my time was -for the distance, but I’ll bet it was mighty good. I’m pretty sure that -I did the first two-twenty yards in something under twenty seconds! As -for Morris, I never saw him. He says he fell over something and lay -in the grass for about half an hour and then went home by way of the -river. Something of a detour, that!” - -“Well, tell me one thing, Lanny,” said Dick. “Did the rolling do the -field any good?” - -Lanny became almost animated. “It certainly did! Want to go over and -have a look at it?” Dick shook his head. “Well, it made a lot of -difference. Of course, as I told the others, it ought to have been gone -over two or three times to get it in real good shape, but it’s at least -a hundred per cent. better than it was before. I was afraid it might -be too dry, but it wasn’t. That old roller just squashed it right down -in great style. I think we broke the board around the track in a few -places, but it was pretty rotten anyway.” - -“That’s good; I mean about the field. As I just said to Gordie, if you -fellows have got to go to jail it’s sort of a satisfaction that you -accomplished something. I’ll send you fruit and old magazines now and -then, and a month will soon pass.” - -“Is that really and truly so? Your kindness――――” - -“And I told _him_,” interrupted Gordon, “that if we went to jail I’d -see that he went along.” - -“Naturally.” Lanny hugged his knees and smiled pleasantly at Dick. “We -couldn’t be happy without you, Dickums. Yes, you’ll have to go along -even if it’s necessary for us to swear that you were the ring-leader. -I’d be sorry for your folks, Dick, but――――” Lanny shook his head -inexorably. Then: “By the by, what about Way?” - -“I left him at the corner of Common Street,” replied Gordon. “I guess -he managed all right.” - -“He ought to have; he’s the manager,” said Lanny, with a yawn. “My -word, fellows, but I’m sleepy! And I had to pretend to be Little -Bright-Eyes at breakfast, too. I know I’ll fall asleep in church and -snore!” - -“Do you think that cop recognized us, Lanny?” Gordon asked. - -“Don’t ask me. If he did we’ll know about it soon enough. Look here, -whose idea was it, anyway? Who got us into this scrape?” - -“Of course, you didn’t,” answered Gordon gravely, “and I’m certain I -didn’t. I guess it was Dick, wasn’t it?” - -Lanny seemed about to assent until Dick reached for a crutch. Then: -“No, I don’t think it was Dick,” he replied. “You have only to look at -his innocent countenance to know that he would never do such a thing. -Guess it was Morris. He isn’t here, and, besides, his dad’s got enough -influence and coin to buy him off. I’m certain it was Morris.” - -“So it was; I remember now. Another time we’ll know better than to -listen to his evil suggestions.” And Gordon sighed deeply. - -“He’s older than we are, too, which makes it more――more deplorable.” - -“You have a wonderful command of the English language this morning,” -laughed Dick. “I’d love to listen to you some time when you’re feeling -fresh and quite wide-awake!” - -“Thank you for those few kind words,” responded Lanny gratefully. “I -shan’t attempt to conceal from you the fact that I am slightly drowsy -to-day. Well, I’ve got to go back and report for church parade. You -coming, Gordie?” - -“I suppose so.” Gordon got up with a sigh. - -“Come around after dinner,” suggested Dick, “and we’ll get in Eli -and take a ride. We might roll around to the scene of the late -unpleasantness and see what finally happened to that roller!” - -“All right,” Lanny agreed, “only don’t display too great an interest in -the thing when you get there. Let us be――er――circumspect.” - -“I don’t like the sound of that word,” murmured Gordon; “that is, the -first and last syllables! Change it to ‘cautious,’ Lanny.” - -“Very well, let us be cautious. Farewell, Dickums!” - -Their visit in the runabout to Brent’s Addition that afternoon proved -unsatisfactory. The steam roller, looking as innocent as you like, was -back where they had found it and there was nothing to tell what had -happened subsequent to their hurried departure. It was not until Monday -morning that they had their curiosity satisfied, and then it was the -_Reporter_ that did it. The _Reporter_ had chosen to treat the story -with humor, heading it - - ROAD ROLLER RUNS AMUCK! - -It told how Officer Suggs, while patrolling his lonely beat on the -outskirts of our fair city, had had his attention attracted by -mysterious sounds on Aspen Avenue. The intrepid guardian of the law had -thereupon concealed himself in ambush just in time to behold, coming -toward him, one of the Street Department’s steam rollers. Ordered to -stop and give an account of itself, the roller had promptly attacked -the officer. The latter, with rare presence of mind, leaped to a place -of safety and the roller, emitting a roar of rage and disappointment, -tried to escape. Then followed a vivid account of the pursuit, the -disorderly conduct of the roller, the wanton attack on the lamp-post -and the final subjugation and arrest of the marauder, an arrest not -consummated until several members of the police force and employees of -the Street Department had been hurried to the scene. It made a good -story and at least five of the _Reporter’s_ readers enjoyed it vastly. -To their relief the paper ended with the encouraging statement that -“so far the police are unable to offer any satisfactory explanation of -the affair. Superintendent Burns, of the Street Department, hints that -some person or persons unknown had a hand in the matter, but to the -_Reporter_ it looks like a remarkable case of inanimate depravity.” - -And that ended the matter, save that eventually the true story leaked -out, as such things will, and became generally known throughout the -school. Whether it ever reached the ears of Superintendent Burns is not -known. If it did he took no action. - -Brent Field profited in any case. That Monday afternoon the improvement -in the condition of the ground was so noticeable that many fellows -remarked on it. Fortunately, though, they were quite satisfied with the -casual explanation that it had been “fixed up a bit,” and for some -reason the marks left by the passage of the roller, plainly visible, -failed to connect themselves with the story in that morning’s paper. -Perhaps the principal reason for this was that very few of the fellows -read anything in the _Reporter_ outside of the sporting page. The -infield, and especially the base paths, was more level and smoother -than it had ever been, and during practice that afternoon there were -far fewer errors that could be laid to inequalities of the surface. -To be sure, when Harry Bryan let a ball bound through his hands he -promptly picked up a pebble and disgustedly tossed it away, but the -excuse didn’t carry the usual conviction. - -Practice went well that afternoon. Fielding was cleaner and it really -looked to Dick as though his charges were at last finding their -batting eyes. Bryan, Cotner and Merrick all hit the ball hard in the -four-inning contest with the practice team, the former getting two -two-baggers in two turns at bat and Cotner connecting with one of -Tom Nostrand’s offerings for a three-base hit. The First Team had no -trouble in winning the decision, the score being 5 to 1. Meanwhile, on -the cinders the Track Team candidates were busy, and over on the Main -Street side of the field, where the pits were located, the jumpers -and weight-throwers were trying themselves out as extensively as the -ever-watchful “Skeet” would allow. Fudge Shaw, looking heroic――and -slightly rotund――in a brand-new white shirt, trunks and spiked shoes, -was taking his turn with the shot. So far only three other youths -had chosen to contest with him for the mastery in this event, but -unfortunately for Fudge two of the three were older fellows with -experience and brawn. One, Harry Partridge, a senior and a tackle on -the football team, was in command of the shot-putters. Partridge was -a good sort usually, Fudge considered, but to-day he was certainly -impatient and censorious, not to mention sarcastic! - -“Look here, Fudge,” he asked after the tyro had let the shot roll off -the side of his hand and dribble away for a scant twelve feet in a -direction perilously close to a passing broad-jumper, “who ever told -you you could put the shot, anyway? You don’t know the first thing -about it! Now come back here and let me tell you for the fiftieth -time that the shot leaves your hand over the tips of your fingers and -doesn’t roll off the side. I’m not saying anything just now about your -spring or your shoulder work. All I’m trying to do is to get it into -that ivory knob of yours that the shot rests _here_ and that it leaves -your hand _so_! Now cut out all the movements and let me see you hold -it right and get it away right. Thank you, that’s very rotten! Go -ahead, Thad. Try not to foul this time. You start too far forward. -That’s better! Did you see――look here, Shaw, if you’re out here to put -the shot you watch what’s going on and never mind the jumpers! If you -don’t watch how these other fellows do it you never will learn! All -right, Falkland!” - -“Maybe,” said Fudge when he and Perry were walking home, “maybe I’d -rather be a broad-jumper, anyway. This shot-putting’s a silly stunt!” - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -FOILED! - - -Whether Fudge really believed all he professed to regarding the -mysterious occupant of Room 12 in the brick building on G Street is -a question. Fudge, being an author of highly sensational romances, -doubtless possessed a little more imagination than common and liked to -give it free rein. Probably it is safe to say that he believed about -half. Perry, less imaginative and far more practical, had been at first -taken in by Fudge and had really credited most if not quite all that -Fudge had asserted. When, however, another week passed and nothing -startling happened, he began to lose faith. Almost every morning the -supposed desperado ate his breakfast in full view of Perry very much -as anyone else would have eaten it, rationally clothed and exhibiting -absolutely none of the tricks or manners popularly associated with -criminals. He did not, for instance, suddenly pause to glance furtively -from the window. Nor did he ever, when Perry was looking, shrug his -shoulders as villains always did on the screen at the theater. In -short, as a criminal he was decidedly disappointing! - -One morning he actually laughed. Perry couldn’t hear the laugh, but -he could see it, and there was nothing sardonic about it. It was just -a jolly, chuckling sort of laugh, apparently inspired by something in -the morning paper. Perry’s own features creased in sympathy. After that -Perry found it very difficult to place credence in the “safe-breaker” -theory. Then, too, Fudge failed to develop any new evidence. In fact, -to all appearances, Fudge had gone to sleep on his job. When Perry -mentioned the matter to him Fudge would frown portentously and intimate -that affairs had reached a point where mental rather than physical -exertion counted most. Perry, though, was no longer deceived. - -“Huh,” he said one day, “there was nothing in that yarn of yours and -you’ve found it out. What’s the good of pretending any more?” - -Fudge looked sarcastic and mysterious but refused to bandy words. His -“If-you-knew-all-I-know” air slightly impressed the other, and Perry -begged to be taken into the secret. But Fudge showed that he felt -wounded by his friend’s defection and took himself off in dignified -silence. When he had reached home and had settled himself on the -platform in the apple tree, however, Fudge realized that his reputation -and standing as an authority on crime and its detection was in danger. -Something, consequently, must be done to restore Perry’s confidence. -But what? He thought hard and long, so long that twilight grew to -darkness before he left his retreat and hurried to the house for -supper. He had, though, solved his problem. - -The next day, which was Saturday, he presented himself at Perry’s at -a little after nine o’clock. Perry, who had been practicing starts on -the weed-grown path at the side of the house, joined him on the front -porch somewhat out of breath and with his thoughts far from the subject -of crime and criminals, clews and detectives. One glance at Fudge’s -countenance, however, told him that matters of importance were about -to be divulged. He pocketed his grips and prepared to listen and be -impressed. Briefly, what Fudge had to say was this: - -He had, he found, been slightly mistaken regarding Mr. Myron Addicks. -The mistake was a natural one. It consisted of classifying Mr. -Addicks as a safe-breaker instead of a train-robber. Fudge did not -explain clearly by what marvelous mental processes he had arrived -at a knowledge of his error, or perhaps the fault was with Perry’s -understanding. At all events, the result was there and already his new -theory had been proven correct. He had that very morning, not more than -twenty minutes ago, read, in the local office of the American Express -Company, a description of one “Edward Hurley, alias John Crowell, alias -John Fenney,” wanted by the company for the robbery of an express -car at Cartwright, Utah, on February seventeenth last, which exactly -tallied with the appearance of Mr. Myron Addicks, allowing, of course, -for certain efforts at disguise. Fudge had copied the salient points of -the placard in the express office and referred now to his memorandum, -written on the back of a money order blank: “Age, about 28. Height, 5 -feet, 10 inches. Weight, about 170 pounds. Dark brown hair, blue eyes, -complexion dark. Was clean-shaven when last seen, but has probably -grown beard or mustache. Carries himself erect. Has white scar about -two inches in length on back of left forearm.” - -“There was a picture of him, too,” said Fudge, “but I guess it wasn’t -a very good one, because he had his head thrown back and his eyes half -closed and was scowling like anything. It must have been taken by the -police.” - -“What is the reward?” asked Perry breathlessly. - -“Five hundred dollars, it said. Maybe they’d pay more, though.” - -“That would be two hundred and fifty apiece,” reflected the other. -“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it? But――but it doesn’t seem to me that -the description is much like this fellow. Did the picture look like -him?” - -“Well,” replied Fudge judicially, “it did and then again it didn’t. -You see, the fellow’s face was all screwed up, and he didn’t have any -mustache. A mustache makes a lot of difference in your looks, you know. -But the description fits him to a T. ‘Dark brown hair, blue eyes――――’” - -“I don’t think this chap’s eyes are blue, though.” - -“I’ll bet you anything they are! What color are they then?” - -“I don’t know,” confessed Perry. - -“No, and there you are! He’s about five feet, ten inches high, isn’t -he?” Perry nodded doubtfully. “And he weighs about a hundred and -seventy pounds, doesn’t he? And his complexion’s dark and he carries -himself erect! And he has a false mustache, and the notice said he -would probably have one. Oh, it’s our man all right! Don’t you worry! -Besides, don’t you see this explains his wearing that cowboy get-up you -saw him in? That’s probably what he was. Lots of train-robbers were -cowboys first-off.” - -“Maybe,” said Perry thoughtfully. “But――but supposing we proved it on -him.” - -“Well?” - -“Would you want to――to give him away?” - -Fudge hesitated. “I wouldn’t _want_ to,” he said at last, “but it’s the -duty of a good citizen to aid in the apprehension of lawbreakers, isn’t -it? And, besides, someone would get that five hundred sooner or later, -wouldn’t they? Bound to! You bet! Well, there you are!” - -But Perry looked unconvinced. “I don’t think I’d like to,” he murmured -presently. “Anyhow, maybe we’re mistaken. Maybe his eyes aren’t blue. -If we could get a look at his arm――――” - -“That’s just what we’ve got to do,” replied Fudge. “That’s what will -tell.” - -“But how?” - -“I haven’t decided that yet. There are ways. You leave it to me. I -guess he’s just hiding out here, Perry. I mean I don’t believe he is -thinking of doing another job just yet. He’s probably waiting for this -to blow over. I told you he was a slick one!” - -“But if he really was wanted for robbing that train,” objected Perry, -“it doesn’t seem to me he’d show himself around the way he’s doing. -He’d hide, wouldn’t he, Fudge?” - -“Where? He is hiding. He wears that mustache and he’s trusting to that, -you see. Why, if he went sneaking around the police would notice him -at once, Perry. So he comes right out in public; makes believe he’s a -civil engineer and plays the piano in a theater. You don’t suppose, do -you, that the police would ever think of looking in a moving picture -house for an escaped train-robber? Say, he must sort of laugh to -himself when he sees those train-robbery films, eh?” - -“But if he wears that mustache when he goes out, Fudge, why does he -take it off when he’s in his room?” - -“Maybe it isn’t comfortable. I should think it mightn’t be.” - -“Yes, but he must know that most anyone can see him when he sits at his -window like that in the morning.” - -Fudge was silent for a moment. Then: “Perhaps he doesn’t think of -that,” he suggested weakly. “Anyhow, what we’ve got to do is see first -if his eyes are blue, and after that whether he has a scar on his arm. -We might wait in front of the theater this afternoon, only there’s the -ball game and we don’t want to miss that.” - -“That isn’t until three, and the theater begins at two.” - -“That’s so! We’ll do it, then! I’ll be around right after dinner, and -we’ll watch for him. Say, what would you do with two hundred and fifty -dollars, Perry?” - -Perry shook his head. “I don’t know. Guess I’d give it to dad, all but -twenty-five dollars, maybe. What would you?” - -Fudge shook his head also. “Search me! Well, we haven’t got it yet. -I guess I could find things to do with it all right. Say, you don’t -suppose he’s at his window now, do you?” - -They ascended to Perry’s room and looked across, but the opposite -casement was vacant. Nor, although they kept watch for a good ten -minutes, did they catch sight of the suspect. They returned to the -porch. “What we might do,” said Fudge reflectively, “is go and see him -and make believe we wanted some civil engineering done.” - -“We’d look fine doing that!” scoffed Perry. “He’d know right away we -were faking.” - -“I guess so,” Fudge acknowledged. “We might get someone else to do it, -though.” - -“Who?” - -“Well, you might ask your father.” - -“I might, but I’m not likely to,” was the derisive response. “Besides, -all we’ve got to do is to get a good look at him to see whether his -eyes are blue or not.” - -“You don’t suppose folks can change the color of their eyes, do you?” - -“Of course not! How could they?” - -Fudge shook his head. “Criminals know lots of tricks we don’t,” he -replied. “But we’ll soon see.” - -Whereupon Perry went back to practicing starts in the side yard and -Fudge, finding a rock, gave an interesting imitation of putting the -shot. - -They reached the theater at twenty-five minutes before two. Fudge -apologized for being a trifle late, explaining that his mother had -sent him on an errand directly after dinner in spite of his plea of an -important engagement. Still, there was no doubt but that they were in -plenty of time, for the orchestra did not assemble until a few minutes -before two. As there was already quite a throng awaiting the opening -of the doors, they decided to separate and take opposite sides of the -entrance. This they did, Fudge assuming an expression and demeanor -so purposeless that Perry feared he would be arrested as an escaped -lunatic by the policeman on duty there. Several hundreds of persons -passed into the theater, but neither of the boys caught sight of their -quarry, and when, at two o’clock, the strains of the orchestra reached -them, they had to confess themselves defeated. By that time the crowd -had thinned out to a mere dribble of late arrivals and the officer was, -or seemed to them to be, eyeing them with growing suspicion. They were -glad when they had escaped from his chilly stare. - -“I don’t see――――” began Perry. - -“I do!” Fudge interrupted bitterly. “We’re a couple of chumps! Why, the -orchestra chaps go in the stage entrance, of course! And that’s around -in the alley off Pine Street! Gee, we’re a fine pair of dummies, aren’t -we?” - -There was no denying it and so Perry mutely consented with a sorrowful -nod. - -“Well, we’ll know better next time,” said Fudge more cheerfully. “Come -on into Castle’s and have a soda. Only it’ll have to be a five-center, -because I’m pretty nearly strapped. Sleuthing makes a fellow thirsty.” - -Ten minutes later the amateur detectives, forgetting their defeat and -cheered by two glasses of cherry phosphate, started for the field. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE GAME WITH NORRISVILLE - - -This afternoon’s contest was the first one of the season with an -outside team. Norrisville Academy, since it was a boarding school, had -the advantage of being able to get into condition rather earlier in the -year than Clearfield High School. To-day’s opponents had, in fact, been -practicing regularly since the latter part of February, since they were -so fortunate as to possess a fine gymnasium with a big and practical -baseball cage. Aside from this advantage, however, Norrisville had -nothing Clearfield hadn’t, and if the latter had enjoyed another -fortnight of practice Dick Lovering would have had no doubt as to -the outcome of the game. But as things were he told himself that he -would be quite satisfied if his charges came through with something -approaching a close score. - -It was a splendid April day, warm and still. There were a good many -clouds about, though, and the morning paper had predicted showers. -With this in mind, Dick resolved to get a good start in the first -few innings, if that were possible, and so presented a line-up that -surprised the large audience of High School rooters that had turned -out for the game. As set down in Manager Wayland’s score-book, the -order of batting was as follows: Bryan, 2b; Farrar, cf; Merrick, 1b; -Jones, ss; Scott, 3b; McCoy, lf; Breen, rf; White, c; Nostrand, p. -This arrangement in Dick’s present judgment presented the team’s best -batting strength. Tom Nostrand was put in the box instead of Tom Haley, -since so far this spring he had out-hit the first-choice pitcher almost -two to one. It takes runs to win a game and runs were what Dick was -after. - -Fudge, occupying one and a third seats behind the home plate, flanked -by Perry on one side and Arthur Beaton, the Track Team Manager, on the -other, viewed the selection of talent dubiously. More than that, he -didn’t hesitate to criticize. Fudge never did. He was a good, willing -critic. No one, though, took him seriously, unless, perhaps, it was the -devoted Perry, who, knowing little of baseball, was ready to concede -much knowledge of the subject to his chum. Arthur Beaton, however, -frankly disagreed with Fudge’s statements. - -“Forget it, Fudge,” he said. “Dick Lovering knew baseball when you -were waving a rattle. Talk about things you understand.” - -“Of course he knows baseball. I’m not saying he doesn’t, am I? What -I’m telling you is that Joe Browne’s a heap better fielder than Howard -Breen.” - -“Maybe, but he isn’t worth two cents as a hitter.” - -“That’s all right. If a fellow fields well enough he doesn’t have to be -any Ty Cobb to make good. It’s all right to go after runs, but if you -let the other fellow get runs, too, what good are you doing? If they -whack a ball into right field it’ll be good for three bases, I tell -you. Breen’s as slow as cold molasses and can’t throw half-way to the -plate!” - -“You’d better slip down there before it’s too late and tell that to -Dick,” said Arthur sarcastically. “He’d be mighty glad to know it.” - -“That’s all right, old scout. You wait and see if I’m not right. I just -hope the first fellow up lams one into right!” - -He didn’t though; he popped a foul to Lanny and retired to the bench. -The succeeding “Norris-villains,” as Fudge called them, were quickly -disposed of at first, and Harry Bryan went to bat for the home team. -Bryan was a heady batsman and had a reputation for getting his base. He -wasn’t particular how he did it. He was a good waiter, had a positive -genius for getting struck with the ball and could, when required, lay -down a well-calculated bunt. Once on the base, he was hard to stop. On -this occasion, he followed Dick’s instructions and was walked after -six pitched balls. Pete Farrar waited until Clayton, the Norrisville -pitcher, had sent a ball and a strike over and then trundled one -down the first base path that started well but unfortunately rolled -out, to the immense relief of the hovering Norrisville pitcher and -first-baseman. With two strikes against him, it was up to Pete to hit -out of the infield, but Captain Jones, coaching at first, sent Bryan -off to second and Pete’s swipe at the ball missed. Bryan, though, -was safe by three feet, and the stands applauded wildly and saw in -imagination the beginning of Clearfield’s scoring. But Bryan never got -beyond second in that inning. Gordon Merrick flied out to shortstop and -Captain Warner Jones, trying his best to hit between second and short, -lined one squarely into second-baseman’s glove. - -Nostrand held the enemy safe once more, although the second man up got -to first on Scott’s error and slid safely to second when the third -batsman was thrown out, Scott to Merrick. A fly to McCoy in left field -ended the suspense. - -It was Will Scott who started things going for the Purple. He was -first up and caught the second offering on the end of his bat and -landed it in short right for a single. McCoy sacrificed nicely and -Scott took second. Breen there and then vindicated Dick’s judgment. -After Clayton had put himself in a hole by trying to give Breen what he -didn’t want, and after the onlookers had gone through a violent attack -of heart-failure when Will Scott was very nearly caught off second, -Breen found something he liked the look of and crashed his bat against -it with the result that Scott sped home and Breen rested on second. - -Dick summoned Lanny and whispered to him and Lanny nodded and strode -to the plate swinging the black bat that was his especial pride and -affection. Norrisville played in and Lanny did what they expected he -would try to do, but did it so well that their defense was unequal to -the task. His bunt toward third was slow and short. Breen landed on the -next bag and Lanny streaked for first. Both third-baseman and catcher -went after the bunt and there was an instant of indecision. Then -third-baseman scooped up the ball and pegged to first. But Lanny, whose -record for sixty yards was six and four-fifths seconds, beat out the -throw. - -Nostrand played a waiting game and had two strikes and a ball on him -before Lanny found his chance to steal. Then, with a good getaway, he -slid to second unchallenged, Nostrand swinging and missing. With men -on third and second and but one down, the world looked bright to the -Clearfield supporters, but when, a moment later, Nostrand’s attempt -at a sacrifice fly popped high and fell into shortstop’s hands, the -outlook dimmed. - -But there was still hope of more runs. With Bryan up, Clearfield might -get a hit. The Norrisville catcher, though, decided that Bryan would -be better on first than at bat and signaled for a pass. Four wide ones -were pitched and Harry trotted to first and the bases were filled. -Theoretically, the Norrisville catcher was right, for with two out -three on bases were no more dangerous than two, and he knew that the -next batsman, Pete Farrar, had earned his location in the line-up -because of his ability to sacrifice rather than to hit out. But for -once theory and practice didn’t agree. Farrar, barred from bunting, -resolved to go to the other extreme and hit as hard and as far as he -could――if he hit at all. For a minute or two it looked as though he was -not to hit at all, for Clayton kept the ball around Farrar’s knees and -registered two strikes against him before Pete realized the fact. Then -came a ball and then a good one that Pete fouled behind first base. -Another ball, and the tally was two and two. Again Pete connected and -sent the ball crashing into the stand. Clayton’s attempt to cut the -corner resulted badly for him, for the umpire judged it a ball. Anxious -coachers danced and shouted jubilantly. - -“He’s got to pitch now, Pete!” bawled Captain Jones. “It’s got to be -good! Here we go! On your toes, Breen! Touch all the bases, Harry! Yip! -Yip! Yip! Yi――――” - -The last “Yip” was never finished, for just when Warner was in -the middle of it bat and ball met with a _crack_ and a number of -things happened simultaneously. The ball went streaking across the -infield, rising as it went, Breen scuttled to the plate, Lanny flew -to third, Harry Bryan sped to second, Pete legged it desperately to -first. Second-baseman made a wild attempt to reach the ball, but -it passed well above his upstretched glove and kept on. Right- and -center-fielders started in, hesitated, changed their minds and raced -back. The spectators, on their feet to a boy――or girl――yelled madly -as fielders and ball came nearer and nearer together far out beyond -the running track in deep center. A brief moment of suspense during -which the shouting died down to little more than a murmur and then the -outcome was apparent and the yelling suddenly arose to new heights. The -fielders slowed down in the shadow of the distant fence, but not so -the ball. It made a fine, heroic effort to pass out of the field but -couldn’t quite do it. Instead it banged against the boards a few inches -from the top and bounded back. It was right-fielder who recovered it -and who, turning quickly, made a fine throw to second-baseman. And -second-baseman did all he could to cut that hit down to a three-bagger, -but Pete was already scuttling to the plate when the ball left his -hand and the throw, being hurried, took the catcher just far enough to -the right to let Pete in. Pete, catcher and ball became interestingly -mixed together for an instant in a cloud of dust and then the umpire, -stooping and spreading his arms with palms downward, returned his -verdict. - -“_He’s safe!_” declared the official. - -The breathless Pete was extricated and pulled triumphantly to the bench -while Norrisville, represented by catcher and pitcher and shortstop, -who was also captain, gathered around the home plate to record their -displeasure at the decision. But Mr. Cochran, physical director at the -Y. M. C. A., discouraged argument and waved them aside politely but -firmly and, while the cheering died away, Gordon Merrick went to bat. -Clayton was shaken by that home-run and seemed absolutely unable to -tell where the plate was, although the catcher despairingly invited -him to come up and have a look at it! Gordon smiled serenely and -presently walked to first. Captain Jones sent him to second with a nice -hit past shortstop and Clearfield got ready to acclaim more tallies. -But Scott’s best was a slow grounder to shortstop and he made the third -out. - -Five runs, however, was enough to win the game, or so, at least, the -delighted Clearfield supporters declared. And so, too, thought the -players themselves. As for their coach, Dick hoped the game was safe, -but he meant to take no chances and so when in the next inning, after -his own players had failed to add to the total, Norrisville began to -show a liking for Tom Nostrand’s delivery by getting two safeties and -putting a man on third before the side was retired, Dick sent Tom Haley -to warm up. - -There was no more scoring by either team until the first of the sixth. -Then Haley had a bad inning. The first Norrisville batter laid down a -bunt toward the pitcher’s box and Tom, fielding it hurriedly, pegged -it far over Merrick’s head. The runner slid to second in safety. That -mishap unsettled Haley and he filled the bases by passing the next two -men. That Clearfield finally got out of the hole with only two runs -against her might well be considered a piece of good fortune. In the -last of the sixth Clearfield added one more tally and the score stood -6 to 2. Neither side scored in the seventh. - -For my part, I’d like to lower the curtain. Clearfield should have -had that game. But it wasn’t to be. Perhaps the home players were -too certain. At all events, errors began to crop out at the most -unfortunate times, and these, coupled with Tom Haley’s erratic -pitching, were the Purple’s undoing. It was Captain Jones himself -who booted an easy hit that might have been a double and instead of -retiring the side in the first of the eighth, let two more runs cross -the plate. Then Haley hit a batsman, donated a third base on balls -and finally allowed a hard-slugging Norrisville man to slap out a -two-bagger. When the worst was over the score was tied, and so it -remained throughout the ninth inning and the tenth and the eleventh and -the twelfth. And when that was over darkness had descended and eighteen -very tired players heard with relief the umpire call the game. And -several hundred spectators, rather stiff and chilly and hungry, went -disappointedly home to supper. - -“I knew mighty well,” declared Fudge as he and Perry made their way -through the twilight, “that we could never win with _that_ line-up! You -heard me tell Harry so, too, didn’t you?” - -And Perry, being a good chum, assented. - -The next day it rained. Not enough, as Fudge bitterly reflected, to -keep a fellow from going to church, but sufficiently to make sojourning -out of doors in the afternoon a very wet and unpleasant business. -It drizzled, but the drizzle was much more of a rain than a mist, -and when, about three o’clock, Fudge went across town to Perry’s -house he arrived in a fairly damp condition. Being damp affected -Fudge’s naturally sunny disposition. It didn’t make him cross, but -it gave him an injured and slightly pathetic expression and tinged -his utterances with gloom and pessimism. He wasn’t a very cheerful -companion to-day, and Perry, who had been having a rather comfortable -and cozy time curled up on the black horse-hair lounge in the Doctor’s -reception-room――also used as a parlor on extraordinary occasions――with -a volume of Du Chaillu’s travels which he had happened on in the -book-case, almost wished that his friend had stayed at home. They went -up to Perry’s room and sat by the open window and watched the drizzle -and talked desultorily of track and field work and yesterday’s game -and of many other things. The affair of the “train-robber” was, it -seemed by mutual agreement, avoided; it was not a day to inspire one -to detecting. The “train-robber’s” window was open across the back -yard, but no one appeared at it. Fudge had drawn the conversation back -to shot-putting and was indulging in a few well-chosen disparaging -remarks with regard to the overbearing manner of Harry Partridge when -sounds came to them. Of course sounds had been coming to them for -half an hour; the patter of rain, the quiet footfalls of Mrs. Hull -below-stairs, the whistle of the three-twenty-two train crossing the -bridge and such ordinary noises; but this was new and different. Perry -drew Fudge’s attention to it and then listened puzzledly. At first it -seemed to come from around the corner of the house, but presently they -located it in the room occupied by the “train-robber.” They crowded -their heads through the window and strained their ears. - -“What’s he doing?” demanded Fudge in a hoarse whisper after a minute or -two. - -“I think”――Perry hesitated――“I think he’s singing!” - -“Singing!” - -“Yes; listen!” They listened. Perry was right. The sounds that issued -from the window were undoubtedly those of a man’s voice raised in song. -What the words of the song were they couldn’t make out, but the tune, -if it deserved the name, was peculiarly slow and doleful. - -“Jimminy, he must be feeling bad!” muttered Fudge. - -“Sounds like a――a dirge, doesn’t it?” - -“Awful!” They tried hard to hear what it was all about, but as the -singer was evidently well back from the window and as the window was -some little distance away, they failed. Finally they drew their heads -in, being by that time somewhat wet, and viewed each other inquiringly. -Then, without a word, Fudge lifted his cap from the table, Perry, -equally silent, moved toward the door and the two quietly descended the -staircase. Perry got his cap from the tree in the front hall and they -slipped through the front door, across the porch and into the drizzle. - -Two minutes later they were climbing the stairs in the brick building -on G Street, looking very much like the desperate conspirators they -felt themselves to be. A pleasant odor from the bakery on the first -floor pursued them as they noiselessly ascended the staircase and crept -along the first hall. The building was silent and apparently deserted -until, half-way up the second flight, from behind the closed door and -transom of Number 7, came the muffled tones of a deep bass voice in -monotonous, wailing cadence. The boys paused at the head of the stairs -and listened. Words came to them, but only occasionally. They tip-toed -nearer. That was better. They could hear fairly well now. - - “I wash in a pool and wipe on a sack, - And carry my wardrobe right on my back. - For want of a stove I cook bread in a pot, - And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.” - -As the voices of the Sirens lured Ulysses of old, so the doleful -strains lured Perry and Fudge nearer and nearer. - - “My ceiling’s the sky and my carpet’s the grass, - My music’s the lowing of herds as they pass. - My books are the streams and my Bible’s a stone, - My preacher’s a wolf on a pulpit of bones.” - -By now the two boys were standing on either side of the door, listening -raptly. - - “The preacher he says from his pulpit of bones - That the Lord favors those who look out for their own. - My friends often hint――――” - -The wails ceased. A moment’s silence ensued. Then the door was suddenly -opened, and: - -“Come right in, pardners,” said a voice. “Everything’s free!” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -THE WHITE SCAR - - -They were two very startled youths who leaped back as the door -unexpectedly opened and who, for a breathless instant, gazed -speechlessly at the man confronting them. He was tall, wide-shouldered -and narrow-hipped, with a frank, good-looking face, clean-shaven, on -which at the moment a quizzical smile rested. He had laid aside coat -and vest, and under the uprolled sleeves of his white shirt his long -arms showed muscles like whip-cords. It was Fudge who found his voice -first. - -“I――I――W-w-we――――” - -“No savvy, hombre. Start again.” - -“W-we were j-j-just list-list-list――――” - -“Listening,” said Perry helpfully. - -“Well, I hope you liked it. Come on in. We’re all friends together.” - -“No, thanks,” said Perry, embarrassed. “We just happened to hear you -singing――――” - -“Hooray!” exclaimed the man. “That’s sure fine! Shake, pardner!” - -And Perry found himself shaking hands most enthusiastically with the -strange person and, at the same time, being drawn through the doorway. -He tried to hold back, but it was utterly useless. Fudge, his startled -expression vastly increased, followed doubtfully and the man closed the -door. He was smiling broadly. - -“Sit down, boys, and tell me your sweet, sad tale. You sure have made -a big hit with me, all right. No one ever called that noise of mine -singing before. Yes, sir, muchachos, you’ve won me!” - -“I――we thought it was very”――Perry searched for a word――“very nice -singing.” - -“P-P-Peachy,” supplemented Fudge, smiling ingratiatingly, and then -casting a troubled look at the closed door. To be shut in like this at -the mercy of a train-robber had not been within his calculations. To -increase his uneasiness, Fudge noted that his host’s eyes were blue, -light grayish-blue, but still to all intents and purposes blue! He -looked meaningly at Perry, wondering whether, if they started together, -they could reach the door before they were intercepted. The man had -made them take two of the three chairs and perched himself on a corner -of the table in the middle of the room. - -“I hope I didn’t scare you when I pulled the door open,” he said. -“Wouldn’t want to do that, you know. Too flattered at having an -audience.” - -“No, sir, we weren’t scared,” Perry assured him not too truthfully. “We -oughtn’t have done it, but――we heard you and――――” - -“Just couldn’t resist it, eh? Was it the words or the tune that -hypnotized you?” He regarded Perry very gravely indeed, but there was a -twinkle in his blue eyes. - -Perry smiled weakly. - -“I――I guess it was the words,” he said. - -“I’ll bet it was! That’s a nice song. I’ll teach it to you some time if -you like. Haven’t I seen you boys around town?” - -Perry nodded, casting a quick glance at Fudge. Fudge, however, had his -gaze set longingly on the door. - -“I thought so. I’ve got a good memory for faces. Pretty good ears, -too.” He laughed. “I suppose you fellows thought you weren’t making a -sound out there? Well, I heard you when you first came along the hall. -Live around here, do you?” - -“I do,” answered Perry. “He doesn’t.” - -“Well, let’s tell our names. Mine’s Addicks.” - -“My name is Hull and his is Shaw. My first name is Perry.” - -“Perry Hull, eh? Sounds like something out of a history of the American -Navy. Any relation to the celebrated commodores?” - -“No, sir, I don’t think so.” - -“What’s his name to his friends?” asked the host, nodding toward Fudge. - -“Fud――that is, William.” - -“My first name’s Myron. I don’t know why they called me that, but they -did. Doesn’t he ever talk?” Again Mr. Addicks indicated the absorbed -Fudge. - -“I was j-j-just thinking,” replied the latter. - -“Oh! What were you thinking?” - -Fudge regarded the questioner doubtfully. “Lots of things,” he muttered -darkly. - -Mr. Addicks laughed. “Sounds interesting, the way you tell it! I dare -say you chaps go to school?” - -“Yes, sir, High School,” replied Perry. “We’re both juniors.” - -“Good leather! Go in for sports, do you? Football, baseball, those -things?” - -“A little. Fudge plays baseball and football some. I play football, -too.” - -“So his name is Fudge, is it? William Fudge Shaw, I suppose.” - -“It’s just a nickname,” explained Perry. - -“I savvy. William week-days and Fudge Sunday, eh?” Perry smiled -politely at the joke, but Fudge’s expression remained serious and -distrustful. “I’d like to see you fellows play some time,” continued -their host. “I used to play football at college, but I never tried -baseball. Didn’t have time. Sprinting and hurdling were my stunts. Do -you have a track team at your school?” - -“Yes, sir,” answered Perry eagerly, “and he and I are trying for it -this year. Fudge is learning to put the shot and throw the hammer and -I’m trying the sprints.” - -“You don’t say? How old are you, Hull?” - -“Fifteen.” - -“You look older. What’s your time for the hundred?” - -“I――I don’t know yet. Skeet――he’s our coach――gave me a trial the other -day, but he wouldn’t tell me what my time was.” - -Mr. Addicks nodded. “I see. What’s the school record?” - -Perry didn’t know, but Fudge supplied the information. “It’s ten and a -fifth. Lanny White did it last year against Springdale.” - -“That’s good work! I’d like to see that chap run. I suppose you have -your work-outs in the afternoons, don’t you? If I didn’t have to――if I -wasn’t so busy I’d come out and look you over. My record was ten flat -for the hundred when I was in college, and fifteen and two-fifths over -the high hurdles. I never could do much at the two-twenty distance, -sprint or hurdles. I did do the low hurdles once in twenty-six flat, -but that was in practice.” - -“What college did you go to?” asked Fudge, forgetting his suspicion for -the moment. - -“Morgan,” answered the man, and smiled at their perplexity. “It’s in -Nebraska. Ever hear of it?” - -They shook their heads, looking apologetic. - -“I suppose not. It’s a long ride from here. Good little college, -though. I spent a right comfortable three years there.” - -“Does it take but three years to get through there?” asked Fudge. “I’d -like to go there myself, I guess.” - -“No, but I was in a hurry, so I finished up in three. Had to get out -and hustle me a living, you see. Not but what I wasn’t doing that after -a fashion all the time.” He paused and chuckled deeply. “Ran a livery -stable.” - -“A livery stable! While you were in college?” asked Fudge. - -“You said it, hombre. Had to do something. Didn’t have much of anything -but what I had on when I struck college. Paid them a half-year’s -tuition――education’s cheap out that way, friends, and it’s good, -too――and looked around for something to work at. Didn’t find anything -at first and so one day I go down to a stable run by a poor thing name -of Cheeny and hires me a bronch for a couple of hours. I can always -think a heap better when I’m on a horse, it seems. Well, thinking -doesn’t do me much good this time, though, and I heads back to town -telling myself the best thing I can do is roll my blanket and hit the -trail. But when I gets back to the stable, which isn’t much more than -a shed and a corral built of railway ties set on end, this poor thing -name of Cheeny says to me: ‘Know anyone wants to buy a nice livery -business?’ ‘Supposing I did?’ says I, squinting around the shack. ‘Why, -here it is,’ he says. Well, to come right down to brass tacks, he and -I did business after a day or two. He wanted to hike back to Missouri, -which he ought never to have left, and we made a dicker. I was to pay -him so much a month till we were square. ’Course I knew that, as he’d -been running the place, he wasn’t making enough to pay his feed bill, -but I had a notion I could do a bit better. Did, too. What I bought -wasn’t much――half a dozen carriages about ready to fall to pieces, five -bronchos and a little grain and alfalfa. The bronchs weren’t so bad, -if you excuse their looks. What they needed mostly was food. Trouble -was, though, that everyone out there who needed a horse had one, and I -saw that if I was to make anything on that investment I’d have to make -my own market. Which I did.” - -“How did you do it?” asked Perry eagerly. - -“Introduced the wholesome recreation of riding. Used to take a string -of bronchs up to college in the afternoon and stand ’em outside the -Hall. Then when anyone came along I’d ask him if he didn’t want to hire -a horse for two bits an hour. At first I just got laughed at. Then one -or two fellows tried it for a lark, and after that it went fine. I gave -riding lessons to some of the girls――Morgan is co-ed, you know――and the -next year I had to buy me more horses. Paid that poor thing name of -Cheeny in full before I’d been there six months. When I left I sold out -to a man from Lincoln and did right well. Now you talk.” - -“Wh-what did you do next?” asked Fudge interestedly. - -“Went down to Texas and got a job with a firm of engineers who were -running a new railway down to the Gulf. I’d taken a course of civil -engineering. Met up with a slick customer who looked like a down-east -preacher and went shares with him on some oil land. Still got it. -Something happened to the railway about that time and they stopped -work. That left me strapped and I hired out as a ranch hand. After that -I went to punching down near Las Topas.” - -“Punching?” queried Fudge. - -“Cows.” - -“You mean you were a cowboy?” asked Perry eagerly. - -“Four years of it.” - -“Gee!” sighed Perry. “That must have been great!” - -Mr. Addicks laughed. “Well, some of it wasn’t so bad. I liked it pretty -well. I was always crazy about horses and riding. I got enough of it, -though. It don’t get you anything. An uncle of mine died and a lawyer -wrote me I was the old chap’s heir and had better beat it back here -and claim the estate. Which I did.” He smiled wryly. “The estate was a -tumble-down farm-house about three miles from here on the Springdale -road with a mortgage all over it. There’s so much mortgage you have -to lift up a corner of it before you can see the house. Being still a -trifle worse than broke, I got a job with a moving picture company in -Jersey and rode for ’em almost a year. That was harder work than being -the real thing, and a sight more dangerous. I nearly killed myself -one day, when a horse fell on me, and so I got my time and quit being -an actor. That was about a month ago. Then I came back here and rented -this place and started in business. The business hasn’t shown up yet, -though. I guess being a civil engineer in Clearfield is about as busy -a job as being a street-cleaner in Venice! Now you know all about me. -Hope I haven’t tired you out.” - -“No, indeed,” replied Perry emphatically. “I like to hear about it. -Say, you’ve been around a lot, haven’t you? Were you born in Nebraska?” - -“Me? Hombre, I’m a native son of this grand old state. My folks farmed -it over near Petersboro before the Pilgrims bought their passage!” - -“How did you happen to go to college away out there, sir?” - -“Why――now, look here, I’ve talked enough. I’ll tell you some day about -that, if you say so, but if I don’t quit now you’ll think I’m wound up. -You tell me things.” - -“What?” asked Perry, smiling. - -“Well, what are you aiming to do when you get through cramming your -head full of knowledge, friend?” - -“I don’t know. I used to think I’d be a doctor. That’s what my father -is. But lately――I don’t know. There doesn’t seem to be much money in -doctoring.” - -“Be a civil engineer then and get rich,” said Mr. Addicks gravely. -“What’s your line going to be, Shaw?” - -“I’m going to be an author,” answered Fudge earnestly. - -“That’s another of those well-paid professions. Guess what we’d better -do is make a date to meet in the poor house in, say, twenty or thirty -years!” - -“Some authors make a lot of money,” said Fudge. - -“Do they? Maybe so. The only one I ever knew who had money in his -pocket was a chap out in Laredo. Don’t know as you’d call him an -author exactly either; more of a poet. He traveled around on side-door -Pullmans and sold poems at the houses. Said he was ‘singing his way -around the world.’ Told me he sometimes got as much as fifty cents for -a poem. Yes, he was what you might call a right successful author; one -of those ‘best-sellers’ you hear about, I guess.” - -“What were the poems like?” asked Fudge. - -“Well, I don’t believe, between you and me and the shovel, he had more -than the one, and that――let me see if I can remember it. How was it -now? ‘My name is――――’ I used to know that song, too. Wait a minute. -I’ve got it! - - “‘My name is James O’Reilly, - I come from Erin’s sod - To sing my humble ballads - As round the world I plod. - I ask no gift from any man, - I pay my way with song. - The world is kind, and so I find - Each day I trudge along.’” - -“I wouldn’t call that real poetry,” said Fudge critically. - -“No more did he; he called it a song. Anyhow, it brought him money. If -someone doesn’t happen in pretty quick and give me a job of surveying -I’m going to steal that song and see what I can do with it! I suppose, -now, you fellows don’t want any surveying done? My prices are cheap. -This is bargain week.” - -“I’m afraid not,” answered Fudge. “I guess there isn’t much――――” - -He suddenly stopped, mouth open, eyes round and glassy, and stared at -his host. - -“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Addicks, following Fudge’s fascinated -gaze. “Anything wrong with my hand?” - -Fudge seemed to shake himself out of his daze. “N-n-n-no, sir!” he -gulped. “Oh, n-n-no, sir! I j-j-just hap-hap-happened to th-th-think of -some-something!” - -Mr. Addicks laughed dryly. “You’re a remarkable young thinker, Shaw. I -thought, by the way you were looking at my hand, that maybe I needed a -manicure. Hello, going?” - -“Yes, sir, I guess we’d better be getting home,” said Perry. “We’ve -enjoyed your――our visit.” - -“Have you? Well, I have, anyway. I was just naturally bored to death -when you came. When you hear me trying to sing you’ll know it’s because -I’m bored. Drop in again soon, fellows. I’m usually in in the mornings. -Come around and I’ll teach you that song.” He chuckled as he opened the -door for them. “I know some others too. ‘Sam Bass,’ for instance. I -know thirty-four verses of ‘Sam Bass,’ and that’s three more than any -other chap at the ‘Lazy K’ knew!” - -It was not until they were in the street that either of the boys spoke. -Then Perry asked wonderingly: “For the love of mud, Fudge, what was the -matter with you? You looked like a dying fish!” - -“D-d-d-didn’t you see?” asked Fudge tensely. - -“See what?” - -“The wh-wh-wh-white s-s-scar!” - -“What white scar? Where?” - -“On his arm!” replied Fudge, hoarsely, triumphantly. “The l-l-left -one!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -SEARS MAKES A SUGGESTION - - -That Sunday evening there was an informal meeting at Guy Felker’s house -in the interests of the Track Team. Guy had asked a half-dozen fellows -to come and talk over affairs, and Lanny, Harry Partridge, Arthur -Beaton and Toby Sears had responded. Orson Kirke had excused himself -by telephone and Jack Toll had simply failed to appear. Toby Sears -was Senior Class President, the School’s best broad-jumper and a fair -quarter-miler. Sears was eighteen and a rather earnest chap on whose -judgment the school always placed the utmost reliance. It was Sears who -was talking now. - -“What Guy has said is just about so. There isn’t now and never has -been enough interest in track and field athletics with us. Every year -it’s been increasingly difficult to get fellows to come out for the -team. Considering the lack of material we’ve had to contend with, I -think we’ve done very well. But this spring a lot of us have been -hoping that things would be easier for the captain and the coach, for -we want to make this year’s victory over Springdale decisive. But, as -Guy has told us, as things stand now the team is very one-sided. That -is, we’ve got a lot of candidates for the field events and mighty few -for the track. And here it is the first of May and the Springdale meet -is little over a month off. Even if we found fellows now to come out -and work for track positions there is scarcely time to develop them. -And, for my part, I doubt that we can get any. Guy made a pretty good -canvass of the school last month and I think he’s got hold of about -all the talent there is. Seems to me, then, that the only thing to do -is for us fellows to see if we can’t come to the rescue and round out -the team better. I’ve never run a half-mile in competition and don’t -know what I could do, but I’m willing to try. That would give me three -events but if they didn’t come too close together I guess I could -manage them. And it seems to me that there are others who could attempt -more than they are attempting now. How about you, Harry? You’re down -for the shot and hammer, aren’t you?” - -“Yes, but I’ll try anything once, Toby. The trouble is that I don’t -think I’m good for anything else, and a month is short time to learn -new tricks.” - -“Well, you know what you can do and can’t do. Still, I think that some -others of us could double up, so to speak. We haven’t but one miler on -the team, as you know. Smith is doing his best, but unless he travels -faster than he did last year he won’t get a point. Springdale, from -what I can learn, is especially strong this year at the mile, half and -quarter and we’ve got to get some seconds and thirds in those events -to have a chance at winning. Presser is willing to do all he possibly -can, but he can’t turn out runners if he isn’t given material to work -on. So, as I’ve said, it seems to me it would be a good plan to induce -some of the fellows who are trying for field events to go in for track -work. I don’t suppose it’s possible to take, say, a chap who has never -done anything but jumping and make a good half-miler of him in a month, -but if we can make him good enough to capture a third we’re helping our -chances.” - -“I think that’s a splendid idea,” said Captain Felker. “Of course, -there are some of us who couldn’t take up more than we are taking. I, -for one. I’d be willing enough, but you simply can’t run sprints or -distances and do yourself justice at the pole-vault. Besides that, the -arrangement of events interferes. But I do think there are fellows on -the team who will be willing to enter two or, in some cases, even -three events. I wish we could get up some enthusiasm for the mile -and the half-mile. Fellows seem to hold off from those events as if -they were poison. I dare say they think they’re harder work. In a way -they are, or, at least, they require a more sustained effort than the -sprints and hurdles. And speaking of hurdles, we need a bigger field -there. Lanny’s got all he can manage with the sprints, although he -intends to try the high hurdles too. The only fellow we have in sight -now for the low sticks is Arthur here. We ought to have four men for -every event on the program, and that’s the truth of it.” - -“I’m willing to try the sprints if you think it will do any good,” said -Arthur Beaton. “I might push some Springdale fellow out in the trials, -anyway.” - -“I’d suggest,” said Partridge, “that Guy and Skeet get together and go -over the list and see what can be done in the way you suggest, Toby. As -I said before, I’ll try anything anyone wants me to. Anything, that is, -except the pole-vault. I don’t want to break my neck!” - -“There are about ten fellows trying for the sprints,” said Lanny. “We -don’t need more than half of them. Why can’t some of them be turned -into hurdlers, Guy? Any fellow who can do the hundred on the flat can -do it over the sticks if he’s once shown how.” - -“Sure he can,” agreed Harry. “Call a meeting of the candidates, Guy, -and tell each one what’s expected of him. Don’t just say, ‘Will you do -this?’ but tell ’em they’ve got to! Get Toby to talk to ’em and put -some pep in ’em. Make ’em understand that we’ve got to lick Springdale -next month and that――――” - -“The trouble is,” interrupted Lanny, “that the fellows don’t take track -athletics seriously. It’s got to be sort of the style to smile when -you mention the subject. We’ve run so to football and baseball that -we don’t think anything else is worth while. Even the fellows who are -on the team go around with a half-apologetic grin, as much as to say, -‘I’m on the Track Team. Isn’t it a joke?’ What ought to be done in this -school is to get track athletics back where they belong as a major -sport.” - -“And the best way to do that,” said Sears, “is to everlastingly wallop -Springdale.” - -“Yes, but――――” - -“I think there ought to be more incentive for fellows to come out for -the team,” said Harry Partridge. “Of course, if a chap is fond of -running or jumping or hurdling he’s going to do it without persuasion, -but there are lots of fellows, I guess, who have the making of good -track or field men who don’t realize it and don’t think about it. Of -course, it’s too late this year, but next――――” - -“Well, it’s this year that’s worrying me,” broke in Guy. “Whoever comes -after me can bother about next year.” - -“Still,” said Sears earnestly, “we’ve got to work for the future as -well as the present; or we should anyway. I’ve sometimes wondered if we -couldn’t enlarge the interest by holding a meet about the middle of the -season, a handicap meet between classes. Once get a fellow interested -and if he has anything in him he wants to get it out. And so he keeps -on.” - -“That’s a good scheme,” agreed Guy. “Funny we’ve never thought of it. -But it’s too late for this spring. What we might do, though, is to hold -an open meet and work up some enthusiasm that way. It would be a good -thing, anyway, for the team.” - -“Couldn’t we get a meet with some other school?” asked the manager. -“Highland Hall or someone.” - -“Guy’s scheme would answer the same purpose,” said Sears. “We could -talk it up, get the candidates themselves interested in it and get the -school interested, too. It might show us some material we didn’t know -of. Some fellows will do stunts in competition that they wouldn’t -think of in practice.” - -“Ought to be prizes, I suppose,” said Lanny. “How about it?” - -“Ought to be, yes,” agreed Guy; “but where’d we get them? There isn’t -enough money to fix the track up decently.” - -“Instead of individual prizes for each event,” offered Manager Beaton, -“we might have a single prize for the best performance, or something -like that.” - -That was discussed and eventually abandoned. As Guy pointed out, -it would be a mighty difficult matter to decide which was the best -performance and the awarding of the prize might lead to a lot of -dissatisfaction amongst the less fortunate contenders. “We don’t need -prizes,” he said. “We’ll publish the names of the winners and that will -be enough.” - -“Arthur’s idea might be used, though,” said Sears thoughtfully, “in the -Springdale meet. How would it do to have some sort of a trophy to go to -the fellow winning the most points for us?” - -“What sort of a trophy?” asked Lanny. - -“Well, nothing expensive, of course. It would be something to work for, -and just now, when we want to induce fellows to take up new stuff, -it mightn’t be a bad idea to give them something――er――tangible to go -after. Maybe just a pewter mug would do.” - -“Suppose two or three fellows scored the same number of points?” asked -Arthur. “That might easily happen, mightn’t it?” - -“Yes, I suppose it might.” Sears considered. “Then let each have -possession of the mug for a certain time.” - -“Oh, your idea is to have the thing competed for each year?” - -“Yes, don’t you think so?” - -“Tell you what,” said Lanny. “Get some of the girls to make a stunning -purple banner――no, pennant――and give it to the fellow who does the best -work for us, as Toby suggests. In case two or more win the same number -of points, take into consideration the fellows’ performances. If two -chaps each won, say, eight points for us, the one who made the better -record for his event would get the flag. And then let him keep it and -we’ll find a new one for next year. Call it the Track Trophy and have -it understood that, next to the Victoria Cross, it’s the biggest honor -you can win!” - -“That’s all right,” assented Harry Partridge, “but it strikes me that a -silver or even a pewter mug would make more of a hit than a pennant.” - -“I don’t think so,” responded Lanny. “Besides,” he added, with a smile, -“that mug would cost us money, and the pennant won’t!” The others -laughed. - -“Still,” said Arthur Beaton, “a few of us might dig down for it. You -can get a pretty good-looking mug for three dollars.” - -“Speak for yourself, old scout,” protested Guy. “I’m poorer than the -Athletic Committee, and that’s pretty poor! Let’s make it a pennant. -It doesn’t matter what it is, really, so long as it is understood that -the thing’s worth winning. It could be made of silk and have a suitable -inscription on it, like ‘For Valor’―――― No, that wouldn’t do. ‘For -Worth?’ ‘For――――’” - -“For Instance,” laughed Lanny. “Never mind an inscription. Just have -‘C. H. S.’ on it.” - -“With a winged foot,” suggested Arthur. - -“Then if I won it throwing the hammer,” said Harry Partridge, “it -wouldn’t be what you’d call appropriate, would it?” - -“In a general way――――” began Arthur. - -“I’ve got it,” interrupted Lanny. “A purple silk pennant with a green -laurel wreath inclosing the letters ‘C. H. S.’ in white. How’s that?” - -“Sounds mighty good-looking,” replied Sears, and the rest agreed. Guy -Felker, however, was a trifle impatient of the subject. - -“We can find a design easy enough later,” he said. “The question is -whether it’s worth doing.” - -“It certainly is,” asserted Sears, and the others agreed. - -“Anything that will convince the fellows that it’s worth while trying -to do all they can for the team, is worth doing,” said Lanny decidedly. -“Remember, Guy, that you and Skeet have got to persuade chaps to go in -for stunts they’ve never tried, in many cases.” - -“But won’t it look,” asked Arthur, “as if we were offering this pennant -just to――to――――” - -“I get your idea,” said Lanny. “How would it do if we kept out of it -and let the girls offer it? We might suggest it to them and let them do -the whole thing. Louise Brent would be a good one to start it up.” - -“That’s better,” said Guy. “We’ll keep out of it entirely. Suppose you -attend to the――the negotiations, Lanny. You’re a popular chap with the -ladies!” - -“Let Toby do it,” Lanny replied. - -“It is moved and seconded that Lanny be appointed a committee of one -to negotiate with Louise Brent in the matter of a purple silk pennant. -All those in favor will so signify by raising their right hands. One, -two, three, four. It is a vote, gentlemen.” Toby bowed gravely to Lanny. - -“All right,” laughed the latter. “It’s all up when Toby’s in the chair, -anyway! Any other business before the meeting, Guy?” - -“No, I guess not. We’ll see what can be done with persuading the -fellows to try new stunts. Maybe it’ll work out fine. I hope so. Much -obliged for coming around, anyhow. I was getting a bit discouraged, to -tell the honest truth. Skeet’s been growling for days and wanting to -know how I expected him to make a team out of nothing. And the trouble -was I couldn’t tell him! You fellows needn’t run off so early, though.” - -“I’m going home and pile into bed,” replied Lanny gravely. “From now on -I shall take the very best care of myself because, you see, I mean to -get that purple pennant.” - -“You?” jeered Harry Partridge. “You haven’t the ghost of a show, you -old tow-head! I only have to close my eyes to see that thing hanging -over my mantel!” - -“Huh! Open ’em again and wake up! Good-night, all!” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -THE SQUAD AT WORK - - -On Monday work for the Track Team entrants was no different than usual. -Perry, one of a bunch of seven or eight sprinters, practiced starts, -did two fifty-yard dashes and finally swung through the two hundred -and twenty. There were no trials, nor were any of the number allowed -to go faster than a “hustle,” which was Skeet’s term for a pace that -was something like a glorified jog. Lanny, who was now giving three -afternoons each week to track work, spent much of his time coaching the -rest, and to him Perry owed his first real understanding of what might -be called the philosophy of the crouching start. Lanny, watching Perry -and two others at the mark, stopped proceedings. - -“Just a minute, you fellows,” he said. “Now, look here. You, Hull, and -you, Soper, have got your holes placed wrong. Your front hole, Hull, is -too far from the mark for you. You’re losing distance every time. Put -that front hole so that your instep will come opposite your right knee -when you’re down, and dig your hole deeper, man; that scratch in the -ground doesn’t give you any purchase. That’s the ticket, dig it out. -Now then, try that. Better? Hold on, though; you’re straddled too much. -The idea is that when you get away your rear foot will travel straight -forward. Your back hole is too far to the right. Put it about here and -see how it goes. That’s the trouble with you, too, Soper. Your back -hole is too far back and too wide of the line through your body.” - -The two boys followed instructions and presently tried another start. -When they had run through their dozen or fifteen yards and walked back, -Lanny began again. - -“As near as I can tell, fellows,” he said, “neither of you really -understand why you’re doing this. You appear to have the idea that when -you start off you have to throw your body forward. The result is that -you both go off with a jump and you don’t get your stride until you’re -eight or ten yards away. Watch me a minute, please. You fellows, too; -you’re none of you getting off well. Now, then, fingers back of the -mark, spread enough to carry your weight easily, but not tense; there -ought to be a little spring to them as they lift. Now in setting your -weight goes forward on your fingers and the _ball_ of your left foot. -Don’t try to put your body over the line; only the head and shoulders. -Now, when the pistol goes off, don’t give a jump as though you were -going to play leap-frog all the way down to the tape. Let yourself fall -forward naturally, as you’re bound to when you lift your hands, and -then run. That’s the whole idea of that start. You’re falling forward -and you run to keep from going on your face. Bring your rear foot -forward on a straight line, raise your body slowly――don’t jerk your -shoulders up――and get your stride in the first three or four steps at -the most. Don’t try for long steps. Take short ones, at least at first -until you learn to lengthen them without throwing yourself off. When -you’re running the hundred yards, fellows, about fifty per cent. of it -depends on the way you get off your mark. Races are won or lost right -there. The idea is to get away quick, _but_ get your stride at once. -Now, then, watch me and see how I do it.” - -That, thought Perry, as his gaze followed Lanny’s bare legs twinkling -down the path, simplified the business. No one had told him that it -was the falling forward of his body that gave him speed in getting -away from the mark. He had been, in fact, struggling against that very -thing, trying to recover his equilibrium at the earliest possible -moment and, in that effort, making his second step a kind of leap in -the air and wrenching his head and shoulders backward with an awkward -and often painful motion. The result had been that for at least a -half-dozen strides he had been “running up and down.” Having once -grasped the “why and where for,” Perry found that the crouching start -was the simplest thing in the world! Not that he mastered it that -afternoon or for many succeeding afternoons, but each time it came -easier and eventually he found that he could reach his stride within -three or four steps of the mark and at twenty yards be running at top -speed. - -That afternoon’s work-out ended with a “hustle” over the two-twenty, -and when, slowing up from that, Perry turned to seek Skeet and report, -he caught a glimpse of Fudge, far down the field, hopping ludicrously -on one foot with a shot poised in upstretched hand. Perry smiled -sympathetically as the shot sped away for a scant thirty feet. Fudge, -he feared, was not making a howling success of his athletic endeavors. -There was a rumor of an impending cut in the squad and Perry wondered -whether he and Fudge would survive it. He almost dared to think that -he would, for, excepting Lanny and Kirke and, possibly, Soper, his -work was as good as any so far. As for Fudge, however, he knew that -Falkland, Partridge and Brimmer were all from six to eight feet better -with the shot, and he doubted that Skeet would retain more than three -fellows for the weight events. Having been released by the coach, with -instructions to report a quarter of an hour earlier on the morrow, -Perry sought the dressing-room, waited his turn at the shower, and -finally dressed and went in search of Fudge. The shot-putters were not -in sight, though, and, hesitating whether to remain and watch baseball -practice or continue his search for his chum, he at last left the field -and made his way back along Common Street to where, in the vacant block -behind the field, the weight candidates were practicing with the hammer. - -Partridge was in charge, and the squad consisted of Fudge, George -Falkland and Thad Brimmer, while four or five spectators looked on -from a safe distance behind the ring. Perry joined these and watched -Harry Partridge whirl the twelve-pound weight and send it sailing -far across the turf. None of them was making any great effort for -distance, however, the matter of form still being the consideration. -Fudge followed Partridge, and Perry, who had never yet seen his friend -essay the hammer-throw, was prepared to resent the snickers or amused -comments of the watchers beside him. But Fudge proved something of -a revelation. Awkward with the shot he undoubtedly was, and it was -much of a question whether he would ever learn to handle that object -successfully, but when it came to throwing the hammer Fudge was -another fellow. His sturdy body turned with the swinging weight, his -arms outstretched, his feet twinkling marvelously above the trampled -ground. Then he stopped quickly, the whirling hammer dipped, rose and, -released, arched off like a shot from a mortar, and Fudge, recovering, -pulled up with a foot against the wooden rim. - -“Bully!” commended Partridge warmly. “That was all right, Fudge! And -you see what I mean about not pulling back on the release, don’t you? -That was mighty good form! Mighty good! Get your sweater on and keep -moving. All right, George. Now see if you handle your feet better.” - -Perhaps Falkland was so busy trying to manage his feet correctly that -he forgot the flying weight. At all events, at the completion of the -second turn the ball of the hammer struck the ground, plowed up a foot -of the soft turf and sent Falkland head over heels before he could -let go the handle! Fortunately, he picked himself up unhurt, and the -laughter of the audience brought only a sheepish grin to his face. -While he regained his breath Thad Brimmer took his turn. After that -Falkland again tried and got the weight away without misadventure, -although not to the satisfaction of Partridge. Fudge threw again and, -while the result was not as good as that of his former performance, did -very well. Partridge explained again, and again threw, and the practice -was over. - -“That was a peach of a throw, Fudge,” commended Perry, as he ranged -himself beside his friend. “I didn’t know you could do it like that!” - -“It isn’t hard,” replied Fudge carelessly, “if you know how.” But he -managed to convey by his tone that it _was_ hard and that a great deal -of credit was deserved by one William Shaw. “I guess the time before -the last I must have made a hundred and fifty feet easy!” - -Fudge’s estimate was somewhat too generous, but Perry accepted it -unquestionably and accorded admiration. He waited outside while Fudge -performed his ablutions and arrayed himself in his street attire, and -then, in the wake of the baseball players, they made their way back -to town. Fudge, plainly pleased with himself, had a good deal to say -regarding the gentle art of throwing the hammer, and Perry listened -patiently until the subject was exhausted. Then, and by that time they -were leaning against Fudge’s front gate in the fragrant warmth of the -May afternoon, Perry said: - -“Say, Fudge, I’ve been thinking.” - -“Uh-huh,” responded Fudge disinterestedly. - -“About Mr. Addicks.” - -“Anything new?” asked Fudge eagerly. “Have you seen him?” - -Perry shook his head. “No, but――but I’ve been thinking.” - -“You said that once,” complained Fudge. - -“Well, I don’t believe he’s so awfully bad, do you? He was mighty -nice to us the other day, Fudge. Lots of folks would have kicked us -downstairs if they’d caught us listening outside the door like that. -And he doesn’t――doesn’t _look_ bad, now does he?” - -“N-no.” Fudge shook his head in agreement. “No, he doesn’t. But we know -he is, and――――” - -“But we don’t know what temptation he may have had, Fudge,” pleaded -Perry. “Maybe he was starving or――or something. Of course, it isn’t -right to rob even if you are starving, but――but it makes it less -bad, doesn’t it? And, for all we know, he may be trying to be better -and――and live it down, eh? See what I mean?” - -“Sure, and that may be so, too.” Fudge knit his brows and looked -extremely wise. “Maybe he’s repented.” - -“That’s what I think,” said the other eagerly. “And so it seems to -me we’d ought to help him all we can, Fudge, instead of――instead of -hunting him down!” - -“We aren’t hunting him down,” objected Fudge. - -“We have been. If we went to the police to-day and told all we know, -they’d grab him in a minute, wouldn’t they?” - -Fudge kicked the fence-post and hesitated. “I suppose so,” he replied -finally. “Only, we wouldn’t go to the police, Perry. We’d go to the -express company, because they offer the reward.” - -“I don’t want the reward,” declared Perry warmly. “And neither do you!” - -Fudge looked a little bit startled. “N-no――――” - -“Taking a reward for sending him to prison now when he’s trying to lead -a decent life and――and establish himself in business would be rotten! -The money wouldn’t bring anything but bad luck, either. No, sir, what -we’ve got to do is stand by him and do all we can to help him, Fudge.” - -“Y-yes, but how can we? What can we do?” - -“Well, for one thing, maybe we could see that he got some work. If he’s -going to stay honest, he mustn’t be poor, because being poor is what -leads folks to commit crimes, don’t you see?” - -“Playing the piano brings him money, doesn’t it?” - -“Not much, I guess. What we ought to do is to see if we can’t find -someone who will give him some civil engineering to do. I――I’ll bet -he’s a good civil engineer, too!” - -“So do I,” asserted Fudge. “I’ll bet he can engineer all around those -fellows who did that work for Mr. Brent out there.” - -“That’s what a civil engineer does, isn’t it?” asked Perry. “I mean, -lays out streets and bridges and――and things.” - -Fudge nodded. “And surveys things, too.” - -“Well, now, say, I was wondering whether we couldn’t ask Morris to ask -his father to give him a job.” - -“Give Morris a job?” - -“No, Mr. Addicks. He’s got a lot more land out there that hasn’t been -surveyed, I’ll bet. And if Morris asked him to give some of the work -to Mr. Addicks――of course, not all of it, but some of it――I guess he -would. He’s mighty fond of Morris.” - -Fudge considered silently. The idea struck him as being perfectly -feasible, even brilliant, but he wished he had thought of it himself. -After a moment: “Morris isn’t the one, though, to ask Mr. Brent,” he -announced. - -“Who is?” - -“Louise.” - -“I don’t know her except to speak to, and I wouldn’t like to ask her. -You could, though, couldn’t you?” - -“Mm, maybe. I’ve got a better scheme than that, though, Perry. You -listen. You know, Dick and Louise are great friends, and if we went to -Dick and told him about Mr. Addicks and asked him to ask her to ask her -father――――” - -“Yes, but I don’t think we ought to tell anyone, even Dick Lovering, -about Mr. Addicks.” - -“We don’t need to tell him _that_ part of it. We’ll just say that he’s -a――a tip-top fellow, which he is, and that he’s just come here and -needs work like anything; that he has to live in one room and maybe -doesn’t have enough to eat, and how he worked his way through college -running a livery stable, and lost his money in oil or something, and -all that. Dick’s just the fellow to help anyone like that. He――he just -loves to help folks!” - -“Well, if we could do it that way, without letting out about Mr. -Addicks being a train-robber, it would be fine,” replied Perry -heartily. “Shall we, Fudge?” - -“Uh-huh, we’ll go around to-night and see Dick. I’ll just bet you -anything that Mr. Brent could give him a lot of things to do if he -wanted to. And I’ll bet Mr. Addicks is the fellow to do them, too!” - -“Yes, there’s something about him that makes you know he’s smart,” -confirmed Perry enthusiastically. “It would be dandy if we could help -him――help him――――” - -“Get on his feet again,” supplied Fudge, whose literary efforts had -provided him with a fine collection of phrases. “Yes, sir, and it’s -great we thought of doing it, Perry.” - -Perry was too pleased to challenge his friend’s use of the word -“we,” and in a few minutes they had parted, having agreed to meet at -half-past seven at the corner of Troutman and E Streets and put the -case before Dick Lovering. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE OFFICER AT THE DOOR - - -Dick was just leaving the house when the boys arrived there that -evening, and Eli Yale was awaiting him at the curb, but he instantly -offered to return. Since the evening had turned cool, they went inside, -seating themselves in the little room to the right that was at once -parlor, living-room, library and Dick’s study. - -It was a comfortable, homelike little room, with a big table by the -front windows whereat Dick studied and conducted his affairs, a smaller -one, in the center of the warmly-hued carpet, flanked by two easy -chairs,――one of which, a deeply tufted leather affair, was Dick’s -especial property,――a couch covered with a gaily colored Afghan robe, -two book-cases, an old-fashioned foot-rest, more chairs and, curled -up on one of them, a fluffy smoke-gray cat. Between the book-shelves -was a fireplace and on the marble ledge above, a brass-dialed, -ebony-cased clock ticked with dignified deliberation, keeping perfect -time with the purring of Lady Gray. On the big table a green-shaded -student lamp threw a pleasant light over the neat piles of books and -papers. There was little that was either new or expensive in the room, -but everything, from the oldest side-chair to the few pictures on the -walls, proclaimed friendliness and comfort. - -Fudge was the spokesman, and he managed to tell his story with -commendable brevity, although he could not help embroidering it with a -few harmless frills. Dick was interested at once. If he suspected that -he was not being told quite all there was to tell, he made no sign. -When Fudge had reached a slightly breathless but triumphant conclusion -Dick nodded. “I’ll be glad to speak to Louise,” he said, “and to -the others as well. I don’t believe that Mr. Brent is employing any -surveyors just now, for I think he has done all he is going to do on -the addition at present. There’s talk of re-locating the trolley line -that runs over to Sterling and I believe he is not going to do anything -more until that has been settled. But we’ll do what we can, Fudge, the -lot of us. If it’s as bad as you say with this chap, he ought to have -some work given him. Do you suppose he can do anything else if there’s -no engineering just now?” - -“He can run a livery stable,” said Fudge doubtfully. - -“And punch cattle,” added Perry. - -“I’m afraid there isn’t much chance of his getting a job at -cattle-punching in Clearfield,” Dick laughed. “All right, fellows, -I’ll speak about it this evening. I was just going to run over to the -Brents’ when you came. Look me up to-morrow and I’ll tell you what the -result is.” - -They took their departure, highly satisfied, and Dick sped away in -Eli. When he reached Brentwood he found Louise and Lanny in absorbed -discussion of the Track Trophy. Louise Brent was a tall, blue-eyed -girl of fifteen, with a fair skin and much yellow-brown hair. She was -attractive more on account of her expression than her features. Dick -was made welcome and Lanny explained about the trophy, and the three -laid plans and drew sketches for the better part of an hour. Louise was -enthusiastic and promised to interest the other girls at once. “You -just wait, Lanny,” she said. - -“It’s going to be the most scrumptious pennant you ever saw. We’ll get -Lila Abbey to do the laurel wreath part. She’s perfectly wonderful at -that sort of thing. Oughtn’t we to put it on a stick?” - -“I suppose so. And tie it with purple ribbons, eh?” - -“Of course.” Louise reflected, tapping a pencil against her white -teeth. “It isn’t going to be awfully easy, but we’ll do it all right. -When ought we to have it done?” - -“Why, I guess there’s no hurry. Any time before the Springdale meet -will do, I think.” - -“Better have it on exhibition a week or so in one of the windows down -town,” suggested Dick. - -“We can have it done in two weeks, I’m certain,” said Louise. “I’ll get -a whole lot of the girls around here some afternoon and we’ll work on -it. And――and it’s supposed to be our idea entirely, you say, Lanny?” - -“Yes, we thought it would be better like that. You needn’t tell the -others that we know anything about it. Just sort of give them to -understand that it’s your idea and that Guy and the rest of us are -tickled to death with it.” - -“I wouldn’t want to pretend I thought of it,” replied Louise, “because, -of course, I didn’t, but I don’t suppose anyone will ask who did think -of it. What we ought to do, first of all, I guess, is to make a pattern -of it so as to get it just the right size.” - -“Ought to have a drawing made, I’d say,” remarked Dick, “so you’ll -know just where the lettering goes and all that.” - -“Oh, dear, you’re just trying to make it harder!” sighed Louise. -“You’re quite right, though; only I’m sure I don’t know who could do -it. I know I couldn’t. Could you, Lanny?” - -“Great Scott, no! I can’t draw a straight line.” - -“Oh, you’ll find someone,” said Dick reassuringly. “Or,” struck by a -sudden thought, “I’ll tell you what, Louise. There’s a chap here in -town, a civil engineer named Addicks, who would probably be glad to -make a drawing of the thing. I was going to speak to you about him -later. He’s out of work and having rather a hard time of it. Fudge and -Perry Hull came to see me this evening just before I left the house -and told me about him. The two kids were quite excited; wanted me to -see you and ask you to try and get your father to give him some work. -Philanthropy’s rather a new stunt for Fudge, but he made out a bully -case for the chap; got me all wrought up about him! Fudge says he has -a room in that block where Ginter’s Bakery is and cooks his own meals -there and is frightfully hard up.” - -“The poor man!” said Louise. - -“Yes, according to Fudge, he lives on sausages and bread and coffee.” - -“Sausages aren’t bad,” said Lanny judicially. “Getting a bit late for -them, though. If I were he, I’d switch to lamb chops.” - -“Don’t be horrid,” said Louise. “Of course I’ll ask papa, Dick. And -I’ll just insist on his finding something for the poor man to do. I -dare say papa knows the railroad people well enough to get them to give -him work.” - -“The railroad people?” asked Dick. - -“Yes, you said he was an engineer, didn’t you?” - -“Civil engineer, not railway, Louise.” - -“Oh! That’s different, isn’t it? Civil engineers survey things, don’t -they?” - -“Correct,” replied Lanny. “Have you forgotten the famous poem written -by a civil engineer? Something about ‘I’m monarch of all I survey; My -right there is none to dispute’; remember?” - -“That was Cowper,” replied Louise scathingly. “And he was a poet, not a -civil engineer.” - -“Oh, all right! Of the two I’d rather be the engineer, though, and live -on sausages.” - -“Lanny, you’re crazy in the head,” laughed Dick. - -“He’s just silly,” corrected Louise. “Papa has a good deal of surveying -done, I think, Dick, and I’m sure he could find some for this -Mister――――” - -“Addicks is the name,” prompted Dick. “I wish you’d ask him, anyway. I -suppose he isn’t in this evening?” - -“No, he and mamma went out to make a call. Maybe he will be back before -you go, though.” - -“Does he usually stay out until midnight?” said Lanny innocently. -Louise blushed a little. - -“You’re quite horrid this evening,” she charged. “If you want me to -make that pennant for you, you’d better behave yourself.” - -“I’ll do the nicest thing I know,” returned Lanny sweetly. “I’ll go -home!” - -The next afternoon Clearfield played Fernwood High School on the -diamond and beat the visiting nine decisively, 14 to 3. The work of the -purple team was rather ragged and neither Haley nor Nostrand, both of -whom pitched that afternoon, was in good form. Hits were frequent on -both sides, but Clearfield’s performance in the field prevented many -runs by the visitors. Fernwood, on the other hand, had two bad innings, -during which their infield threw the ball wild, and errors, coupled -with some timely hitting by Bryan, Cotner and Merrick, in especial, -enabled the home team to pile up a safe score before the game was half -over. As Lanny was working with the track men that afternoon, his -place was taken by Terry Carson, and the substitute caught a nearly -perfect game until the eighth inning when a foul tip glanced away -from a bat and split one of his fingers. After that McCoy went behind -the plate, and it was a marvel that the visitors didn’t pull the game -out of the fire, for Sprague McCoy, an outfielder, was quite at sea in -the backstop position. Nostrand, however, who was in the points during -the last four innings, got himself together and managed to stave off -two batting rallies. The incident opened Dick’s eyes to the fact that -a second substitute catcher was needed, and he and Captain Jones went -a-hunting. It was Pete Robey upon whom their choice finally fell, and -Pete found himself suddenly elevated from an insecure position amongst -the rabble to a seat on the first team bench. But that was a day or two -later. To-day Dick and Warner Jones were still discussing the matter -when they left the field, and it was into that discussion that Fudge -broke when he and Perry caught up with the older boys just as Dick -swung himself into the runabout. - -“Dick, did you find out anything last night?” asked Fudge eagerly. - -“Hello, Fudge! Hello, Perry! Why, yes, something. Pile in here and I’ll -tell you in a minute. Let Perry sit in your lap, Warner, will you? -Fudge, you squat on the floor.” - -“Don’t drag your feet, though,” warned the captain humorously, “or -you’ll stop the car.” He and Dick resumed their discussion of the -catcher question and kept it up until Warner got out at his gate. When -they trundled on Dick turned to the expectant Fudge. - -“I spoke to Louise last night, Fudge, about your friend, and then she -spoke to her father this morning. I suspect that he didn’t much want to -hire What’s-his-name, but Louise is a very determined person and she -finally got him to say that if this friend of yours would call on him -at his office to-morrow morning――he’s in New York to-day――he’d talk -with him. Louise telephoned me at breakfast about it. She said Mr. -Brent was very obstinate at first.” - -“That’s b-b-bully!” exclaimed Fudge. - -“Well, don’t expect too much,” warned Dick. “Mr. Brent isn’t likely to -hire him unless he can prove that he knows his business. I know enough -about Mr. Brent to be certain of that, Fudge.” - -“Sure, but he does know his business! He’s a very fine civil engineer.” - -“How do you know?” asked Dick gravely. “Has he ever done any work for -you?” - -Perry chuckled, and Fudge reddened a bit. “No, but――but you can -t-t-t-tell he is, Dick!” - -“I see. Well, do you think he can draw?” - -Fudge looked doubtfully at Perry, found no help there and replied -sturdily: “You bet he can! He’s a great drawer, he is!” - -Dick smiled as he slowed down at Perry’s gate. “I asked because the -girls are going to make a silk pennant as a prize for the Track Team -and they want someone to make a drawing of it to work by. I told Louise -that perhaps this fellow Addicks could do it for them. Do you think he -could?” - -“I know he could,” answered Fudge, with beautiful faith. “What’s it -for, this pennant?” - -“Why, it’s to go, I believe, to the fellow who does the best work for -us in the meet with Springdale. It’s to be rather a gorgeous affair; -purple silk with green leaves and white lettering. Suppose you see Mr. -Addicks and tell him about it and ask if he will do it. There isn’t -much money in it, because the girls have got to go to quite a little -expense before they’re through, I guess. Louise thought a dollar would -be enough, but you could ask him what he’d do it for. If it wasn’t much -more than that, I guess they’d pay it. Mind doing that?” - -“No, indeed! We’ll do it right now. It’s just around the corner. Want -to come along?” - -“Thanks, no, I’ve got to get home. Call me up this evening and tell me -what he says. Much obliged, and I hope that job will pan out, fellows. -Good-night!” - -It was getting dark in the building when Fudge and Perry went in and -climbed the stairs. Halfway up they encountered some of the workers in -the glove factory, but after that the building seemed deserted. At the -top of the last flight, though, they discovered that it wasn’t, for, in -front of Mr. Addicks’ door at the end of the twilit corridor a bulky -figure stood. As the boys looked the figure took on the appearance of -a policeman. The policeman――they could see him more plainly now that -their eyes had accustomed themselves to the half darkness――rapped -loudly, imperatively on the door. He waited, and, as there was no -response, he tried the handle. The door was locked. Then he bent close -to the sign, as though making certain he was not mistaken, glanced up -at the closed transom and swung around. Fudge dragged Perry forward -and began an examination of the signs on the nearer portals as the -policeman, walking almost noiselessly on rubber-soled shoes, passed -them with a brief but searching glance. As his quiet footfalls died -away in the hall below Fudge turned a wild, alarmed gaze on Perry. - -“_They’re after him!_” he whispered hoarsely. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE TRAIN-ROBBER IS WARNED - - -Mr. Myron Addicks returned home rather later than usual that afternoon. -Although he had knocked about the world a good deal during his -twenty-seven years, and had put up with a good many discomforts, he had -been telling himself of late that his present domicile was about as -dreary and unsatisfactory as any he had ever endured. The best thing he -could say of it was that the rent was cheap, cheaper than that of any -other room he had been able to find in Clearfield. But there was little -else to be said in its favor. There was no view to be enjoyed, the -building was silent and lonely after dark――save in the basement, from -whence a strong odor of baking arose every night――and a bath was almost -an impossibility. Unfortunately, until his income had at least doubled -itself, he could not afford to pay more, and this afternoon, tramping -along a country road outside of town, he had reached the conclusion -that any increase in his income was not to be expected and that the -best thing he could do was to hit the trail back West. In short, he -was rather discouraged to-day, a condition of mind very unusual with -him, and when he entered the building to climb the two flights to his -cheerless “home” he had just about determined to pack his battered -trunk. - -He stopped, as was his custom, to apply a match to the single gas-jet -at the top of the first flight, and repeated the operation in the hall -above. And having turned the key to his liking he heard his name spoken -and looked into the anxious faces of Fudge and Perry. - -“Hello!” he greeted them. “What are you fellows doing up here?” - -His tone lacked warmth, but the boys didn’t notice the fact. - -“We came to see you about something,” replied Fudge, in lowered voice. -And then he glanced apprehensively toward the stairs. “Do you mind if -we go in your room, sir?” - -“Why, no; glad to have you.” Mr. Addicks produced his key and opened -his door. “Wait till I light up or you’ll break your necks in here. -Mighty nice of you boys to call.” The gas shed light on the rather bare -room and Mr. Addicks nodded at the chairs. “Sit down and confess all,” -he went on. “How’s the world been treating you two?” - -“All right, sir,” answered Fudge hurriedly. “But that isn’t it. What we -want to tell you is that――that they’re after you, sir.” - -“After me?” asked the other mildly. “Who is?” - -“The――the police, sir.” Fudge continued breathlessly. “We came up about -a half-hour ago and he didn’t hear us, I guess, and he knocked and then -he tried the door. We made believe――――” - -“Whoa! Back up! Let’s have this right, Shaw. You came up here to see me -a half-hour ago and saw someone knock on my door and try to open it. -Who was he?” - -“A policeman, Mr. Addicks; a big, fat policeman. We made believe we -were looking for another room and he went out again and we stayed here -to warn you.” - -“Why, now that was kind of you,” replied Mr. Addicks gravely. “But just -why did you think I ought to be warned?” - -Fudge hesitated. After all, it was not a pleasant task to inform a man -that you knew him to be a criminal. Perry moved uneasily in his chair, -but failed to come to his chum’s assistance. - -“Come on,” persisted Mr. Addicks. “We’re all friends together. What’s -the idea, Shaw?” - -Fudge threw a final appealing glance at Perry and plunged: “It’s none -of our business, sir, only I――er――I happened to see the notice in the -express office and――――” - -“What notice?” - -“About the train-robber. And then we――we came in the other day and -couldn’t help seeing the scar and――and knowing.” - -“What scar, Shaw?” - -“On your arm, sir; the white scar just like the description says.” - -“The white―――― Oh!” Mr. Addicks nodded comprehendingly. - -“We haven’t breathed a word to anyone, Mr. Addicks, but I guess they -got on to you. And we thought you ought to know.” - -“Of course.” Mr. Addicks’ countenance held puzzlement and some -amusement, and he was silent a moment. At last: “Let’s have this just -right now,” he said. “You suspect me of being this train-robber and you -think the police are after me. Is that it?” - -“Y-yes, sir.” - -“The description of the robber fits me, does it?” - -“Why, yes, sir, all except the height. I guess you’re more than five -feet and ten inches, aren’t you?” - -“Five feet, eleven. But that’s near enough. What was the fellow’s name, -by the way?” - -“He had two or three names. Edward Hurley was one of them, and another -was Crowell, and――I don’t remember the other.” - -“Fenney,” supplied Perry subduedly. - -“Ha!” Mr. Addicks arose from the table on which he had been seated, -thrust his hands into his pockets and walked to the window. The boys -exchanged expressive glances. After a moment’s silent contemplation of -the twilit world outside Mr. Addicks turned back. - -“How do you suppose they found out?” he asked, in a low voice. - -Fudge shook his head. “Maybe you left off your disguise some time, sir.” - -“My――my what?” - -“Disguise; the mustache, sir.” - -“Oh, yes, the mustache. That’s it, I guess.” - -“Yes, sir, you didn’t have it on when you came in just now, you know.” - -“Careless!” sighed Mr. Addicks. “No wonder they spotted me. Well, -what must be must be, boys!” He sank into a chair with a gesture of -surrender. “I guess it’s all up, hombres.” - -“Couldn’t you――couldn’t you make your getaway?” asked Fudge, lowering -his voice and glancing apprehensively toward the door. Mr. Addicks -laid finger to lips, tiptoed across and suddenly threw the door open. -Thrilled, Fudge and Perry leaned forward to look. The corridor, -however, was empty. - -Leaving the door slightly ajar, Mr. Addicks returned to his seat. - -“You mean,” he asked, “that I might get away before they came back for -me?” - -Fudge nodded. - -“I wonder! You’re certain you haven’t told anyone, Shaw? Or you, Hull?” - -“No, sir, we haven’t,” replied Fudge emphatically, even indignantly. -“We haven’t said a word to anyone. We――we thought at first you were a -safe-breaker,” he added apologetically. - -“What made you think that?” - -“I don’t know exactly. Of course, we knew you weren’t just an ordinary -thief, sir; we could see that; and so I――we thought maybe that was your -line.” - -“You wronged me there,” said Mr. Addicks, in hurt tones. “I’ve never -cracked a safe in my life Shaw.” - -“I’m sorry, sir. Only――how did you get the money from the express car -at Cartwright? Didn’t you have to break the safe open?” - -“Oh, that? Why, you see――but, look here, what made you first suspect -me?” - -“I guess it was the disguise. Besides, we knew you were playing the -piano at the theater just for a――for a bluff.” - -“So you knew that, eh?” muttered Mr. Addicks. He viewed Fudge with -admiration. “It’s a good thing you’re not on the police force, Shaw, or -I’d have been nabbed long ago. You’re a regular Burns!” - -Fudge strove to disguise his delight in the praise, and Perry broke -into the conversation anxiously. “Don’t you think you’d ought to be -going, sir?” he asked. “They may come back any moment.” - -“You’re right.” Mr. Addicks referred to a tin alarm clock on the table. -“Ten after six,” he muttered. “It’s a desperate chance, but I’ll take -it.” He disappeared into the closet and returned with a much-worn -valise which he placed, open, on a chair. “Now then, let’s see.” He -glanced frowningly about the room. “I can’t take much with me. I guess -I’d better foot it to the next town and jump the train there. Maybe -they won’t be looking for me. Boys, I don’t want to drive you away, -but if they should come and find you here they might suspect you of -tipping me off. I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble on my account, -and it might go hard with you if they found it out. Better get out -while there’s time.” - -Fudge looked uneasy. “Well, maybe we had,” he murmured. “They might put -us through the third degree and make us tell.” - -“That’s just what they’d do,” said Mr. Addicks convincedly. “I’m mighty -grateful to you fellows, and if the thanks of a train-robber are of any -value to you――――” - -“_Whats that?_” asked Perry, startled. With a swift leap Mr. Addicks -reached the gaslight and turned it out. In the darkness they listened -with straining ears. No sound reached them, however, beyond the usual -noises from the street. “I thought,” muttered Perry apologetically, “I -heard something.” - -[Illustration: “‘What’s that?’ asked Perry, startled”] - -“I g-g-guess,” said Fudge, as Mr. Addicks lighted the gas again, “I -g-g-guess we’d better go.” - -“Yes,” whispered Mr. Addicks, “don’t run any risks. Good-by, boys. Take -care of yourselves and, whatever you do, remain honest.” He shook hands -with Fudge and then with Perry. “Remember that honesty is the best -policy and take it from me that there’s nothing in train robbery. A -fellow hasn’t got a fair chance nowadays.” - -“Couldn’t you――if they don’t get you this time, sir, couldn’t you――” -Perry faltered embarrassedly――“couldn’t you reform, sir?” - -“I’ll try, Hull, I swear to you I’ll try.” Mr. Addicks seemed quite -affected and, after the door had closed behind them, they thought they -heard a sob. They stole noiselessly down the stairs. On the sidewalk -Fudge drew a deep breath of relief as he glanced left and right and saw -no policeman. - -“Gee, I hope he gets away,” he whispered huskily. - -Perry nodded. “So do I. He――he’s a mighty nice fellow. What do you say -if we stay around until he goes, Fudge? I’d like to be sure he gets -away, wouldn’t you?” - -“Yes, but it wouldn’t be safe. They might――might connect us with his -escape. Why, even now they may be watching the building! Come on, but -don’t walk too fast. Try to look careless, Perry.” - -So, looking careless, they reached the corner, but there, to Perry’s -surprise, Fudge seized him by the arm and dragged him on. “We’ve got to -throw them off the track,” he muttered. “They may follow us.” - -Silently they proceeded another block and then, when Fudge had turned -quickly and glanced back along G Street, they slipped around the -corner, cut through a yard and climbed a fence, dodged past a house and -finally gained Troutman Street. - -“There,” said Fudge, with satisfaction, “I guess we’ve thrown them off -all right.” He stopped a moment, made a silent investigation and added -darkly: “I hope they tear their pants on that fence the way I did!” - -“It must be awfully late,” said Perry. “I guess I’ll go back this way; -it’s shorter.” - -“Better not,” warned Fudge. “Come on to F Street. They might see you.” - -“I hope,” mused Perry as they went on down the block, “I hope he will -try to reform, Fudge. He doesn’t seem what you’d call a hardened -criminal, does he?” - -“No, he doesn’t. I guess there’s a lot of good in him, Perry. I dare -say he will get away safely and go back out West and settle down just -like you or me.” - -“I do hope so.” Perry sighed. “I liked him a lot, Fudge.” - -“Me, too. I wish he wasn’t a criminal, that’s what I wish. And, oh, -shucks, now he can’t do that drawing! I’ll have to tell Dick that he -left town unexpectedly. Say, let’s do something to-night, Perry. Think -your folks’ll let you go to the movies?” - -“I’ll ask them. I ought to study, but――but I guess I’m too excited.” -Perry laughed softly. “Say, a fellow doesn’t save a train-robber from -the police every day, does he?” - -“I guess not! I guess if the fellows knew what we’d been up to to-day -they’d open their eyes!” - -“I suppose, though, we oughtn’t to tell them.” - -“Hm, well, not for a long while,” answered Fudge. - -As Fudge had remained away from the theater for some time, his mother, -after extracting a promise to get up early and study his lessons before -breakfast, at last consented to let him go, and Fudge was leaning over -Perry’s fence promptly at twenty minutes to eight and whistling his -doleful signal. Perry joined him without his cap and spoke subduedly. - -“Will you wait a few minutes, Fudge?” he asked apologetically. “Dad and -mother are going with us. Do you mind very much?” - -Fudge kicked the base-board of the fence, a reckless thing to do -considering the condition of it, and finally replied with a noticeable -lack of enthusiasm: “Of course not――much. What they going for, Perry? I -didn’t know they _ever_ went.” - -“They don’t. Only dad took it into his head that he’d like to see what -the movies are like, and ma said she’d go, too. I’m sorry.” - -“Well――” Fudge stopped and then asked hopefully: “Do you think they’ll -pay for me, Perry?” - -“I guess so,” was the doubtful answer. Further conversation across the -fence was prevented by a summons for Perry, and a minute or two later -the quartette was on its way to the theater. To Fudge’s satisfaction, -Doctor Hull, directed by Perry, attended to the trifling matter of -tickets and they filed in. The slight delay had allowed the front half -of the house to fill and they were obliged to seat themselves fifteen -rows back, a location not at all to Fudge’s liking. Fudge derived great -enjoyment, in the interims between films, from observing the orchestra, -and from back here all he could see well was just the man at the piano, -and the man at the piano was the least interesting―――― - -“Why, Fudge Shaw, what _is_ the matter?” exclaimed Mrs. Hull. - -“N-n-nothing, ma’am,” replied Fudge chokingly. - -“Aren’t you well?” - -“Y-yes’m.” - -“You don’t look it. You sure you don’t feel faint?” - -“No’m――yes’m, I mean. I――I just had a twinge.” - -Mrs. Hull viewed him doubtfully and a trifle disapprovingly and -turned to the Doctor to confide her belief that Fudge was by no means -a satisfactory companion for Perry. Whereupon Fudge dug his elbow -painfully into Perry’s ribs and whispered excitedly: - -“Perry, look down there!” - -“Where? What?” demanded the other, squirming out of the way of Fudge’s -energetic elbow. “What is it?” - -“The man at the piano! Look at him!” - -Perry looked and gasped and looked again. Surely that back and those -shoulders and that head belonged to―――― - -At that instant the piano player turned to speak to the violinist -and the boys gazed, astounded, on the false mustache and smiling -countenance of Mr. Addicks, the train-robber! - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -MR. ADDICKS EXPLAINS - - -Fudge and Perry gazed spellbound. - -There was no chance of mistake, even at that distance. Before them, -smiling, unconcerned, sat Mr. Myron Addicks, one hand resting -negligently on his hip, the other on the keyboard of the piano. No -one would ever have suspected him of being a fugitive from justice! -Presently, quite as though he had nothing to fear nor an enemy in the -world, he turned and looked calmly over the audience. Fudge’s gasp was -painful in its intensity, and Mrs. Hull’s thoughts sped to peppermint -tea. Then the lights went down, the orchestra broke into tuneful melody -and the entertainment began. - -But all through the performance the two boys shivered whenever a -footstep came creaking along the aisle or there was a sudden stir -behind them. They had visions of the entire Clearfield Police Force, -led by the stout and intrepid Chief, filing down the passage-way and -clapping the hand of the Law on the shoulder of the cowboy-pianist. -That the performance came finally to an end without anything of the -sort happening was almost unbelievable. The boys accompanied the -Doctor and Mrs. Hull home, talking in excited whispers all the way but -reaching no satisfactory conclusions regarding Mr. Addicks’ strange -actions. The Doctor, who had been innocently surprised and delighted -with his first experience of moving pictures, frequently interrupted -their conversation with questions and reminiscences and they reached -the gate before they realized it. Perry’s request to be allowed to walk -half-way home with Fudge was firmly denied and the latter took his -departure with a last whispered: “I’ll be around at seven, Perry. Be -ready!” - -What was to happen at seven in the morning, what he was to be ready -for, Perry didn’t know, but the mysterious command added further -interest to an already absorbing state of affairs and Perry presently -went to bed to participate in the wildest and weirdest adventures that -ever befell a sleeping youth! - -He was up at a little after six, dressed by half-past and waiting on -the front porch in a patch of sunlight. Fudge, in spite of his good -intentions, was late and it was almost a quarter past seven when he -appeared hurrying down the street. Perry joined him on the sidewalk and -Fudge, linking arms, conducted him around the corner. - -“We’re going to see him,” he said determinedly. “If he hasn’t gone -already maybe he can get away before they look for him.” - -He hadn’t gone. Fudge’s peremptory knock was followed by the sudden -opening of the door and the vision of a surprised and pajama-clad Mr. -Addicks confronting them. Fudge allowed no time for questions. He -pushed past the puzzled train-robber, followed by Perry, and motioned -the door shut. There was no evidence of hurried flight in view. The -room looked quite as usual. The screen had been removed, revealing a -tumbled cot-bed evidently very recently occupied, and on a one-burner -stove, connected with the gas bracket by a tube, stood a sauce-pan of -water which was already bubbling about the edges. Other indications of -breakfast were there; two eggs and a tiny coffee canister and a half -loaf of bread adorning a corner of the table. Fudge’s voice was almost -stern as he confronted Mr. Addicks. - -“Why didn’t you beat it?” he demanded in a hoarse whisper. “Do you -_want_ to get pinched?” - -Mr. Addicks politely controlled a yawn and viewed Fudge with -puzzlement. Then he scratched his head, picked up a tattered -dressing-gown and slipped into it and, seating himself on the bed, -thrust his hands into the pockets of the robe and spoke. - -“Look here, boys, what is this?” he asked plaintively. “I’m an awful -poor performer before breakfast.” - -“But――but you said you were going last night!” said Fudge accusingly. -“And we saw you playing the piano at the theater! Why, they might have -nabbed you any minute!” - -Mr. Addicks shook his head. “I was disguised,” he replied. - -“That’s no disguise,” said Fudge contemptuously. “You’re taking awful -chances, sir. Couldn’t you get away now before they start to look for -you?” - -“Before I’ve had my breakfast?” demanded the man weakly. - -“Well, wouldn’t you rather go without breakfast than have it in jail?” -inquired Fudge impatiently. “If you start right now you might get the -seven-forty train. I don’t believe they’d be watching the station so -early, sir!” - -Mr. Addicks’ expression became gravely curious. “Now, look here, -hombres,” he said, “this is just play, isn’t it?” - -“Play!” gasped Fudge. “What do you mean, play?” - -“Why, this police business, of course. I mean, you don’t really believe -that I’m that train-robber hero of yours, do you?” - -Fudge’s jaw dropped and he stared blankly. Finally: “Do you m-m-mean -that――that you aren’t?” he asked in a small voice. - -Mr. Addicks shrugged. “Naturally I mean that, Shaw. I thought yesterday -that you fellows were playing a game and I entered into it for the fun -of it. But when you burst in at half-past seven in the morning and want -me to leave town without any breakfast――well, I quit. You’ll have to -find someone else for the part, old chap!” - -“And you’re not the train-robber?” gasped Fudge. - -“My dear fellow, I never robbed a train in my life. Sorry to disappoint -you, but――well, there it is!” - -“Then――then w-w-what have you done?” Fudge demanded. - -“Not a thing,” laughed Mr. Addicks. “Shaw, you’ll have to reconstruct -your ideas of me. I’m not the man you want at all. I never robbed -a train or cracked a safe or even snatched a purse. I’m just an -unromantic sort of a dub with no criminal record at all.” - -“I just knew it,” murmured Perry, relieved. - -Mr. Addicks glanced at him and smiled. “Thanks for your good opinion, -Hull,” he said. “Now, fellows, let’s thresh this out. How did you get -it into your head I was the train-robber, Shaw?” - -Fudge, still mazed and a bit incoherent, did his best to explain. -He told the story from the start, acknowledging that for a while he -had only half-pretended to believe in the theory of Mr. Addicks’ -criminality, but owning that the notice in the express office, coupled -with blue eyes and a scar on the left fore-arm, had ultimately -convinced him. Several times during his recital Mr. Addicks chuckled -amusedly, and when Fudge had reached a somewhat lame finish he pulled -back the sleeves of his dressing-gown and pajama jacket. - -“What sort of a scar was it?” he asked gravely. - -“It――it was a white scar about two inches long, sir,” stammered Fudge. - -Mr. Addicks held out his arm for inspection. “Have a look,” he said. -Perry and Fudge looked. Then Fudge turned the arm over. Then he lifted -surprised eyes to Mr. Addicks. “It m-m-m-must have b-b-been the other -one!” he said. - -Mr. Addicks obligingly bared the right arm. Neither one showed any sign -of a scar! Fudge was plainly dazed. - -“B-b-but I s-s-s-saw it!” he muttered. Mr. Addicks laughed. - -“So did I, and it must have been the day you were here that first time. -I upset the tooth-powder that morning――my toilet accommodations are a -bit sketchy, you see――and got some on my arm. I found it there that -night. I guess that was the scar you saw, my friend.” - -Fudge gazed helplessly from Perry to Mr. Addicks and back to Perry. His -expression was too ludicrous for Perry to view with a straight face and -suddenly the latter burst into a laugh. Mr. Addicks joined him. Finally -Fudge followed suit, although a bit sheepishly. And when the merriment -was subsiding he pointed an accusing finger toward the table. - -“How about th-th-that?” he demanded. - -“That” was a luxuriant brown false mustache lying on the table. - -“Eh? Oh, the ‘disguise,’” chuckled Mr. Addicks. “Well, I’ll tell you. -That _did_ look bad, I guess. You see, I was pretty nearly broke when -I struck this place and found that my inheritance was nothing more than -a full-grown, man-size mortgage. So I looked around for something to -do until I could get a start at surveying. I couldn’t find anything -until I happened on an advertisement in the paper for a pianist at the -theater. Well, playing in a theater orchestra didn’t seem to me to be -just what you’d expect a civil engineer to do. I thought that perhaps -if people knew I did that they wouldn’t consider me much good as a -surveyor. So I concluded I’d wear that mustache as a sort of disguise. -I had a lot of trouble with it at first. Got to the stage door one day -without it and had to go back for it. And once it dropped off on the -piano keys, but no one noticed it, fortunately. This leading a double -life is trying, fellows!” - -At that moment the sauce-pan on the little stove began to boil over and -Mr. Addicks jumped up and rescued it. - -“We’d better be going along, I guess,” said Perry. “You haven’t had -your breakfast, and neither have we.” - -“I’d ask you to have some with me, only, as a matter of fact, my larder -is pretty empty this morning. Tell you what, fellows, drop around after -the theater this afternoon and we’ll go on with the trial. Now that -I’ve started, I’d really like to convince you that I’m a respectable -member of society.” - -“We believe it already,” replied Perry, with a grin. - -“Sure,” agreed Fudge. But his tone held deep disappointment, and Mr. -Addicks, noting it, laughed. - -“Shaw, you almost make me wish I really was a train-robber or something -desperate!” he said. “I suppose you’ll never take any more interest in -me after this.” - -Fudge smiled, a trifle embarrassed. - -“And,” continued Mr. Addicks, “I can’t much blame you. That reward -sounded pretty good, I’ll warrant!” - -“R-r-reward!” blurted Fudge. “Gee, you don’t suppose we were looking -for that reward when we came here and warned you s-s-s-so you could get -away!” - -“That’s true, Shaw. I beg your pardon. You acted like a good pal there, -and I thank you. You too, Hull. You both of you acted white. By the -way, is everything quite cleared up? Any little things you’d like -explained?” - -“N-no, sir, I guess not,” replied Fudge. “Still about that -policeman――――” - -“Oh, Lafferty? Well, Lafferty’s rather a friend of mine and sometimes -drops in for a smoke. That’s all.” Mr. Addicks chuckled. “Lafferty -would be interested if he knew! But I shan’t tell him. Will you come -around again and see me later?” - -“Yes, sir, thank you,” replied Perry. “And Fudge isn’t _really_ sorry -you’re not the train-robber, Mr. Addicks; are you, Fudge?” - -“Of course not!” Fudge grinned. “Anyway, it was a lot of fun while it -lasted!” - -“That’s all right, then,” said their host heartily. “Glad you don’t -hold it against me. I know that a civil engineer isn’t as interesting -as a desperado, fellows, but you drop in now and then and maybe we -can scare up some excitement, eh? And if you ever want a nice job of -surveying done, why, you let me know, and it won’t cost you a cent.” - -“S-s-surveying!” exclaimed Fudge. “We forgot to t-t-t-tell him!” - -“That’s so,” Perry agreed. - -“It’s Mr. B-B-Brent, sir. You’re to g-g-go and see him this forenoon -and maybe he will have some w-w-w-work for you.” - -“You really mean it?” asked Mr. Addicks. “Jonathan Brent, over at the -mills? What makes you think so?” - -Whereupon Fudge, Perry assisting, explained, and when he had finished -Mr. Addicks insisted on shaking hands with them both very hard, so hard -that their fingers ached for minutes afterwards. - -“You chaps are a couple of bricks!” he told them delightedly. “I don’t -see why you took the trouble for me, but I’m certainly obliged. I hope -Mr. Brent will come across with the job. Even if he shouldn’t, I thank -you just the same. What sort of a man is he, by the way?” - -“He’s a small man,” replied Fudge uncertainly. “Sort of wrinkled. Looks -right through you and out behind. Kind of scares you at first, I guess. -He’s got a lot of money and made it all himself. Gives a heap of it -away, though, they say. I guess,” he summed up shrewdly, “that if you -don’t let him scare you, you’ll get on all right.” - -“I’ll try not to,” answered Mr. Addicks gravely. Perry smiled. The -civil engineer didn’t exactly look as if he would be easily frightened! -And then Fudge recalled Lanny’s message about the design for the -pennant. - -“Dick said they couldn’t pay very much for it,” he explained -apologetically, “but maybe a couple of dollars――――” - -“A couple of fiddlesticks! It won’t cost them a cent. I’ll be glad to -do it. We’ll talk it over this afternoon and I’ll make a sketch and -you can show it to your friend. I’m only sorry I’m not doing it for you -chaps.” - -“Well, you will be, in a way,” replied Fudge very gravely. “You see, -that pennant’s to go to the fellow making the most points in the -Springdale meet, and it’s as good as mine right now!” - -Two days later there was a new pianist at the moving picture theater, -for Mr. Addicks was busy with level and pole on a piece of work that -would occupy him at least a fortnight. And while there had been no -promise of further employment, the surveyor was pretty certain that Mr. -Brent meant to keep him at work for some time to come. In any case, he -had made his start, and the false mustache reposed nowadays on the wall -of his room surrounded by the penciled features of a villainous-looking -individual whom he called “Edward Hurley, the Noted Train-Robber.” A -card appeared in the _Reporter_ announcing that Myron Addicks, Civil -Engineer, was at the service of the public, and a neat black-and-gold -sign was hung outside the entrance to the building. Later still Mr. -Addicks rented the adjoining room and used it for an office and -workshop. Gradually it assumed a most business-like appearance. A long -table held fascinating drawing instruments and squares and protractors -and strange black rubber triangles and curves and rolls of tracing -cloth and printing-frames, to say nothing of paints and inks simply -begging investigation! To Fudge that room was a never-failing source -of delight, and, since he and Perry soon became fast friends with -Mr. Addicks, he had frequent opportunities to test its pleasures. By -summer both he and Perry had dedicated themselves to the profession of -civil engineering and were doing remarkable things with compasses and -ruling-pens and little black rubber squares. It was, I think, shortly -after the close of school that Fudge commenced his ambitious task of -mapping the City of Clearfield! But I am far ahead of my story. - -The design for the Track Trophy was made, submitted and enthusiastically -approved. The pennant itself was completed a week later and was placed -on exhibition in a window of Cosgrove’s jewelry store. A placard neatly -printed by Mr. Addicks reposed beside it and explained that it was to be -awarded as a prize to that member of the Clearfield High School Track -Team winning the greatest number of points at the annual meet with -Springdale High School. It was really a very handsome trophy and Louise -Brent and her aids had done themselves proud. The pennant was twenty-four -inches in length and fourteen inches in height, of heavy purple silk. A -wreath of green laurel leaves enclosed the letters “C. H. S.” in white. -Purple satin ribbons held the pennant to a gilt staff, and altogether it -formed a prize well worth striving for. And so most of the Track Team -members thought. - -Besides inciting the members of the team themselves to greater -endeavors, the trophy aroused a new interest in and enthusiasm for -track and field athletics throughout the school. Fellows who had -never for an instant contemplated going out for the team were heard -regretting the fact that they had allowed others to dissuade them and -promising that next year they’d show something! - -Meanwhile May hurried along with sunny skies――and some cloudy ones for -variety――and the baseball players began to meet opponents worthy of -their skill and the Track Team, imbued with a new enthusiasm, worked -their hardest. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -ON THE TRACK - - -By the middle of the month the Track Team comprised twenty members, -several less than coach and captain had hoped for. By a good deal of -intricate scheming those twenty were apportioned over the seven track -and five field events so that in each Clearfield would be represented -by not less than three wearers of the purple. In many cases a second -was the best that Captain Felker dared hope for, in some cases a third -would be all he expected. A number of the fellows were being coached -in things they had never dreamed of undertaking. George Tupper, -for instance, who had run fourth last spring in the 440-yards, had -been prevailed on to drop that event and go in for the mile, since -the four-forty was represented by three more promising performers -and the mile run was left to Toll and Smith. In the same way, Thad -Brimmer, whose specialty was the weights, was induced to make a third -competitor in the high jump. Lanny White, who was entered for both -dashes and the high hurdles, entered for the low hurdles also. Soper, a -fair sprinter, developed remarkably as a broad-jumper. - -Of course there were disappointments at first in what Arthur Beaton -humorously called “intensive track athletics.” That is, several fellows -selected for events that were new to them failed absolutely to show -any ability and had to be switched to something else. Neither Coach -Presser nor Captain Felker hoped to develop extraordinary talent in -this way. What they desired to do was to be represented in each event -by at least three contestants and so possibly gain here or there a -point or two that would otherwise go to Springdale. When the final -arrangement was completed there were four entries for the 100-yards -dash, the 220-yards dash, the hammer-throw and the shot-put, and three -for each of the other events on the program. Lanny White was to attempt -more than any other member of the team, being down for four events, and -several others were down for three. Naturally, Lanny did not expect -to be placed in each of his races, but there was always the chance of -crowding a Springdale fellow out in the trials. In the dashes Lanny was -fairly certain of getting a first and a second, if not two firsts, and -he hoped to get placed in the high hurdles. Perry Hull had attempted to -show form as a broad-jumper, but after a week of it had convinced Skeet -that that was not his forte. In the end he was slated for the sprints -only. - -Perry had his second time-trial on the seventeenth of the month and -Skeet announced the time as 10 3/5 for the hundred and 24 3/5 for the -two-twenty. Neither performance was remarkable, but Perry had a strong -belief in his ability to better them both; and, in any case, he had -performed as well as any of his teammates except Lanny and Kirke in the -hundred and Lanny in the two-twenty. Lanny told him he had done finely -and assured him that in another fortnight he would be able to cut -another fifth of a second from his time. “And if you do,” said Lanny, -“you’ll stand as good a chance for second place as any of the fellows. -I don’t think that Springdale has a sprinter who can do better than -two-fifths this year. It will be a corking race for second place!” - -Perry was encouraged and his enthusiasm arose to new heights. For the -next week he clamored for another time-trial, but Skeet denied him. -Instead, he insisted on Perry working well over his distance for days -after that trial, and neither he nor the other sprinters were once -allowed to show their real speed. - -Meanwhile, Perry was observing such strict rules of diet that Mrs. Hull -was in despair. Perry’s natural liking for pie and cake was sternly -repressed and his mother became frequently quite impatient and said -that training was a piece of foolishness and that Perry would soon -be only skin and bones unless he ate more. There seemed to be some -justification for her fears, for the steady work on the cinders was -certainly carving Perry pretty fine. He had not been by any means fat -before, but now he was getting down to his muscles, and one morning -when his mother surprised him on his way to the bath and viewed the -slimness of his legs as revealed by a flapping dressing-robe, she sent -up a wail of alarm and forthwith sought the Doctor, declaring that -“this running just had to be stopped or Perry would starve to death -before their eyes! He looks right now,” she said, “like one of those -Indian famine victims!” But the Doctor declined to become concerned. -“He’s better off as he is, Mother,” he replied. “A fifteen-year-old boy -doesn’t need fat.” - -“But he’s not eating anything!” - -“You mean,” the Doctor chuckled, “he’s not eating pie and cake and a -mess of sweet truck. I’ve failed to notice, though, that he has ever -refused a third helping of meat and vegetables lately! Suppose, instead -of pie and chocolate layer-cake, you make some simple puddings, my -dear; tapioca, rice, corn-starch. I guess he will eat those all right; -and they’ll be a lot better for him.” - -Mrs. Hull retired unconvinced, but afterwards forbore to predict -disaster when Perry refused pie. Experiments with the simple desserts -the Doctor had suggested were fairly successful. Perry referred to a -diet-list that was pinned beside his bureau and relaxed to the extent -of partaking sparingly of the puddings. - -Fudge, too, was denying himself prescribed dishes, although with far -less philosophy than was displayed by his friend. Pie with Fudge was -a passion, and cakes containing oozing jelly or soft icing filled his -soul with beatitude. When all else failed, he fell back on doughnuts. -To be cut off from these things was a woeful experience to Fudge. Once -he had “trained” for the Football Team, but that training had been a -very sketchy performance; nothing at all like the awful self-denial he -practiced――or, at least, strove to practice――now. - -“I don’t mind not eating starchy things,” he confided to Perry one -day, “but this breaking away from the table when the pie comes on is -fierce! I haven’t had a hunk of pie,” he added drearily, “for three -weeks, and there’s a place right here”――he laid a sympathetic hand over -the third button of his vest――“that won’t be happy until it gets it!” - -However, to make up for the discomforts of dieting, he had the -satisfaction of accomplishing Herculean stunts with the twelve-pound -hammer. Partridge already viewed him as a probable point-winner, for he -had nearly equaled Falkland’s best performance and had out-distanced -Thad Brimmer by four feet. It was well that Partridge, and Guy Felker, -too, dealt out praise and encouragement to Fudge, for the temptation -to backslide in the matter of pie dogged him incessantly. There was -one tragic night when he lay in bed and fought for all of an hour -against the haunting vision of three raisin pies sitting side by side -in the pantry downstairs. What eventually vanquished temptation was -the knowledge that if he stole down and cut into one of those pies his -mother would know it. And after all the fine-sounding speeches he had -made to her on the subject of denying one’s appetite for the sake of -the School, he hadn’t the heart for it. - -Now that the School had “taken up” athletics it was a lot more fun -practicing. Whereas heretofore scarcely a dozen fellows had watched -the performances of the Track Team, now the daily practice was almost -as popular as baseball and squads of critical but enthusiastic youths -stood about the track and applauded and urged on their friends. The -hammer-throw was sufficiently spectacular to attract a large gallery -every afternoon, and I’m not denying that Fudge strutted a little when, -having tossed the weight far away across the field, he allowed some -admiring acquaintance to help him on with the crimson dressing-robe he -affected. - -Over at Springdale great things were said of the local Track Team, and -the Springdale paper even now predicted victory. Guy Felker and the -others studied that paper every day and compared what they learned -of the Blue team’s performances with what they knew of their own, -sometimes with satisfaction and more often with alarm. There was -no disguising the fact that Springdale would send a team more than -ordinarily strong in the quarter, half and mile events and in the -jumps. The Blue was likely to prove weak in the sprints and hurdles and -at present seemed about on a par with the Purple in the hammer-throw -and shot-put. Springdale’s best performer with the shot was credited -with thirty-nine feet and two inches, but Skeet declared himself -skeptical about that. Arthur Beaton spent hours at a time drawing -up predictions of the outcome of the dual meet which proved, to his -satisfaction at least, that the Purple would win by a good fifteen -points. But Beaton was notably an optimist. - -The plan of holding a School meet was abandoned owing to the small -number of members, but, on the twenty-first of the month the entrants -in each event were allowed to compete against each other and the -results were posted. Skeet did not, however, publish times or -distances, although they were made known to the contestants. In the -dashes Lanny finished first with ease, Kirke getting second place -in the hundred-yards and third in the two-twenty. Perry tied with -Soper for third place in the short distance and finished fourth in -the two-twenty. Since, however, a blanket would have covered all the -sprinters but Lanny at the finish of that race, fourth place was not -vastly different from second. The time was disappointing, but the track -was soft after an all-night rain and Skeet didn’t seem troubled when he -snapped Lanny ten and two-fifths for the hundred and twenty-four and -three-fifths for the longer sprint. The high hurdles went to Lanny and -Beaton finished only three yards behind him. Peyton fell at the second -hurdle and was a poor third. In the low hurdles Lanny was swept off his -feet by Peyton and had to work hard to beat out Beaton for the next -honors. The jumps developed poor performances, but in the pole-vault -Guy Felker surprised himself and everyone else by doing ten feet and -one inch, bettering the school and the dual record by two and a half -inches. That and Partridge’s shot-put of thirty-seven feet and two -inches were the only notable performances that afternoon. - -The mile run proved a good deal of a fizzle. Smith, considered the only -dependable entrant for that event, had cramps and dropped out on the -third lap, and Toll and Tupper fought it out together, Toll finishing -well in the lead in the slow time of six minutes and twenty seconds. -Evidently the result of the mile was a foregone conclusion since it was -well known that Springdale’s best miler had a record of five minutes -and five seconds. The half-mile was a good race――Todd, Lasker and -Train finishing in that order, the winner’s time being two minutes and -fourteen and one-fifth seconds. The quarter-mile saw Todd, Sears and -Cranston running bunched until the final fifty yards, when Sears forged -ahead and finished with his head up in the fair time of fifty-four -and four-fifths seconds. In the hammer event, which wasn’t finished -until after six o’clock, Partridge won handily with a best throw of one -hundred and twenty-six feet and seven inches. Falkland was second with -a hundred and twenty-one feet and three inches and Fudge was third at a -hundred and eighteen feet and six inches. Thad Brimmer was in poor form -and was several feet behind Fudge. - -The contests brought out many faults not displayed previously, and to -that extent were useful. Possibly, too, they served to accustom new -members of the team to the conditions of competition. At any rate, the -fellows enjoyed them, and the audience did too. There was one member -of the audience who, seated in the grandstand, watched events with a -deal of interest. This was Mr. Addicks. As it was Saturday and work was -for the time slack, he had treated himself to an afternoon off. No one -paid any attention to him; few, indeed, observed him; certainly neither -Perry nor Fudge. He would have liked to have gone down on the field and -mingled with the throngs along the track and about the pits, but since -he was not a High School fellow he thought he might be trespassing. -There was no ball game to-day to divide attention, for the Nine had -gone off to play against, and, incidentally, get drubbed by Templeton -College. Mr. Addicks watched the sprints and hurdle events critically -and found no fault with Lanny White’s work. Lanny, he concluded, was a -born sprinter and hurdler and only needed better training to become a -master of those arts. With the rest, though, he was far less satisfied. -Indeed, he frowned a good deal over the running of the other three -competitors. He didn’t remain until the end, but left the field after -the quarter-mile run. He had wanted to see Fudge’s performance with the -hammer, for Fudge had talked rather importantly of it of late, but he -couldn’t see that event taking place anywhere and didn’t think to look -outside the field. On the way back to town he stopped in the telegraph -office and made use of a telegram blank to write a brief note. This he -dropped through the letter-slot in Dr. Hull’s front door, and Perry -found it awaiting him when he got home. It read: - - ALKALI IKE: Come and see me this evening if you can. If not, in - the morning. Death to traitors! - - DEADWOOD DICK. - -Ever since he had learned of the boys’ suspicions regarding him, Mr. -Addicks had humorously insisted on applying such picturesque aliases to -them and himself. Fudge was “Four-Fingered Pete,” usually, although -sometimes he was addressed as “Willie Rufus, the Boy Detective.” Perry -was variously “Alkali Ike,” “Doctor Watson” or “The Apache Kid.” Perry -smiled as he read the missive, got Fudge on the telephone and announced -his purpose of calling on Mr. Addicks after supper and instructed Fudge -to join him there, and then descended hungrily on the contents of the -table. He was very full of the afternoon’s proceedings and, although he -didn’t suspect it, I fancy his father and mother were relieved when the -meal was over and he grabbed his cap and disappeared. - -He found Mr. Addicks working at a drawing-table in the new room into -which he had moved a few days before, but his host laid aside pen and -ruler, square and compass, and took him into the old apartment, now a -trifle more comfortable by reason of the acquisition of a second-hand -easy-chair. Into this he forced Perry and took his own position as -usual on a corner of the table. - -“I saw you run to-day,” he announced, “and I want to talk to you about -it.” - -“Were you there?” asked Perry. “I didn’t see you. Why didn’t you let me -know?” - -“I sat in the stand. I didn’t know whether they’d want me on the -field.” - -“Shucks, everyone comes on. I wish I’d known you were there. What――what -did you think of it?” - -“The field?” asked Mr. Addicks innocently. - -“No, I mean the――the sprinting and all.” - -“I thought that fellow White was a mighty clever runner, Perry. I don’t -know that I ever saw a chap handle himself much better. Of course he -wasn’t half trying to-day. He didn’t have to. I’d like to see him when -he was pushed.” - -“He’s fine, Lanny is,” said Perry admiringly. “And Kirke is pretty -good, too, didn’t you think? He got second in the hundred, you know.” - -“That his name? Well, he’s not the sprinter White is. Is that little -thin fellow your trainer? The fellow in the brown-and-white sweater?” - -“Yes, that’s Skeet Presser. He used to be a champion miler; or maybe it -was half-miler; I forget.” - -“Is he considered a good coach?” - -“Oh, yes, sir! He trains at the Y. M. C. A., you know.” - -Mr. Addicks smiled. “Well, that ought to be conclusive, Perry! But let -me ask you something now. Who taught you how to run?” - -“Why, he did; he and Lanny. Lanny coaches the sprinters sometimes.” - -“White, you mean? Well, did either of them ever tell you that you -ought to use your arms in running?” - -“My arms? No, sir, I don’t think so. Skeet told me I wasn’t to let my -arms get behind me.” - -“That was clever of him,” said Mr. Addicks dryly. “Have you ever -watched your friend White run?” - -“Yes, lots of times.” - -“Ever notice what he does with his arms?” - -Perry hesitated. “I don’t think so, particularly.” - -“Well, you should. Look here, Perry, you’re not really running, my boy. -You made a nice start to-day in the two-twenty and you used a nice -stride when you found it, which wasn’t until you were pretty nearly -to the tape, but you waved your arms all over the lot and never once -used them to help your running. Now if you’re ever going to do anything -in the sprints, or in the distances, either, you’ve got to learn how -to use your arms. A sprinter runs with three things, Perry; his legs, -his arms and his head. You use your legs fairly well, although you’re -trying to get too long a stride for a chap with legs the length yours -are; and I guess you’ll learn to use your head well enough when you’ve -been in a few races; but you aren’t getting anything out of your arms; -in fact, you’re slowing yourself up, the way you’re beating the air -with them.” Mr. Addicks slid off the table. “Suppose I wave my arms -like this when I’m running. Think that’s any help to me? Not a bit, old -scout. Get your arm action and leg action together. Rip them forward, -like this; left leg, right arm, right leg, left arm. That way you’re -pulling yourself along. But don’t just hold them out and paddle your -hands, or trail them behind your hips or hug your chest with them the -way one of you chaps did to-day. See what I mean at all?” - -“Yes, I think so. I never knew about that, though.” - -“Of course you didn’t if no one told you. Not one of you fellows except -White ran in decent form to-day; and if someone would tell him not to -throw his head back as far as he does he’d do better yet. What the -dickens does this Skeet fellow think? That you kids can find out all -these things without being told? Why, great, jumping Geewhillikins, -there are all sorts of things to be learned if you’re going to be a -real sprinter! It isn’t just getting off the mark quick and running as -hard as you know how to the tape. There’s science in it, old scout, a -heap of science!” - -“I suppose there is,” replied Perry a trifle dejectedly. “And I don’t -suppose I’ll ever be real good at it.” - -“Why not? Don’t expect to be a ten-flat hundred-yard man yet, though. -You’re too young and your legs are too short and your lungs aren’t -big enough. For two or three years the two-twenty will be your best -distance. You can’t hustle into your stride and move fast enough to -compete with older fellows in the hundred. But, if you’ll realize that -in the two-twenty you can’t push all the way, you may make a good -performer. You have a pretty fair style, Perry. I like the way you -throw your heels without ‘dragging,’ for one thing. But what I’ve just -said about trying all the way through the two-twenty is so. It can’t -be done; at least, it can’t be done by the average sprinter. Get your -stride as soon as you can after you’re off the mark, then let your -legs carry you a while; I mean by that don’t put all your strength -into the going; save something for the last thirty yards or so. Then -let yourself out! Remember that the hundred-yards is a hustle all the -way, but the two-twenty is just a hundred and twenty yards longer and -the fellow who tries to win in the first half of the race dies at the -finish. Of course, it all comes by trying and learning. Experience -brings judgment, and judgment is what a sprinter has to have. You’ll -soon find out just about how much power you can spend in getting away -and how much you can use in the first twenty seconds and how much -you’ll need for the final spurt. Only, until you have learned that, -play it safe and don’t try all the way. If you do you’ll finish tied up -in a hard knot! See what I mean?” - -“Yes, sir, thanks.” - -“Try it and see if I’m not right.” Mr. Addicks perched himself on the -table again and swung a foot thoughtfully. “I wish I had the coaching -of you for a couple of weeks,” he said. “I’d make a two-twenty man out -of you or I miss my guess!” - -“I wish you had,” replied Perry wistfully. “No one told me all that, -Mr. Addicks. Couldn’t you――I mean, I don’t suppose you’d have time to -show me, would you?” - -“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Addicks shook his head. “I’d like to, though. I -guess the trouble with this Skeet fellow is that he’s got so much on -his hands he can’t give thorough attention to any one thing. Still, I -should think he’d see that his sprinters are making a mess of it. White -ought to savvy it, anyway.” He was silent a minute. Then: “Look here,” -he said abruptly, “what time do you get up in the morning?” - -“About seven, usually. Sometimes a little before.” - -“Seven! Great Snakes, that’s halfway to sundown! That the best you can -do?” - -“No, sir, I could get up a lot earlier if I wanted to.” - -“Well, you get up a lot earlier some morning and we’ll go out to the -track and I’ll show you what I’m talking about. Swallow a cup of -coffee, or whatever it is you drink in the morning; that’s all you’ll -need; we won’t try anything stiff. What do you say to that?” - -“Why,” replied Perry eagerly, “that would be dandy! Will you really do -it, sir? When?” - -“To-morrow――no, to-morrow’s Sunday. How about Monday? Be outside your -house at six and――――” - -Mr. Addicks was interrupted by a knock on the door, and, in response to -a lusty “Come in!” Fudge entered. - -“Ah,” exclaimed Mr. Addicks, “we have with us to-night Arizona Bill, -the Boy Hercules!” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE NEW COACH - - -That early morning session at the track didn’t come off on Monday -because it was raining hard when the alarm clock which Perry had -borrowed for the occasion buzzed frantically at a quarter to six. -It had been agreed that should it be raining the event was to be -postponed. So it was Tuesday when Mr. Addicks gave his first lesson. -He was already in front of the house when Perry hurried out. He was -enveloped from neck to ankles in a thread-bare brown ulster beneath -which he wore an old pair of running-trunks and a faded green shirt. - -“Thought it might do me good to take a little exercise while I’m out -there,” he explained. “I haven’t had these things on for years, and -wasn’t sure I’d kept them until I rummaged through my trunk. Couldn’t -find my shoes, though.” Perry saw that he was wearing a pair of -rubber-soled canvas “sneakers” which had probably been white a long -time ago. “How are you feeling? Ever up so early before?” - -“A few times,” Perry laughed. “Usually on the Fourth.” - -“Had anything to eat or drink?” - -“No, sir, the fire wasn’t lighted. I’m not hungry, though.” - -“Better have something inside you. We’ll stop at the drug store and get -some hot malted-milk.” - -This they did, and then went on to the field. It was a fine, warm May -morning, and after yesterday’s showers the world looked and smelled -fresh and fragrant. They found the gates at the field locked, but it -was no trick at all to climb over the fence. Fudge had agreed to meet -them there with his stop-watch, although Mr. Addicks had assured him -that a time-trial was unthought of, but he was not on hand nor did -he appear at all that morning. Later he explained that the maid had -forgotten to call him. - -Inside, Mr. Addicks threw off his ulster and, while Perry got into his -running togs, stretched his long legs and surprised his muscles by -various contortions to which they were long unused. Perry was soon back -and Mr. Addicks put him on his mark and sent him away at little more -than a jog. “Head up,” he instructed. “Shorten your stride. That’s -better. Don’t be afraid to use the flat of your foot. Running on your -toes is too hard on your legs. Now swing your arms, Perry. Drive ’em -out and pull ’em back, boy! No, no, don’t make an effort of it. Just -easy, just easy. That’s better.” - -Mr. Addicks trotted alongside to the turn and then called a halt. - -“That’s enough. Now get your breath and watch the way I do it. Watch my -arms particularly.” - -He crouched for a start, unlike the usual sprinter holding but one -hand to the ground. Then he launched forward, caught his stride almost -at once and ran lightly back along the track, his long legs scarcely -seeming to make any effort and his arms reaching forward and back, his -body twisting slightly above the hips from side to side. It was pretty -work, and even Perry, who had never seen many runners, realized that -he was watching one who was, allowing for lack of recent practice, a -past-master. After that he was sent off again and again, for short -distances, at scarcely more than a trot until he at last solved the -philosophy of the arm movement. He had begun to despair of ever getting -the hang of it when, suddenly, he awoke to the realization that, for -the first time since he had been running, legs, arms and body were -working together in perfect unison! He had the novel sensation of being -a well-oiled machine of which every part was timing absolutely! He -slowed down at the corner and returned to his instructor with shining -eyes, triumphant and slightly astonished. - -“I did it!” he exclaimed. “I did it then, Mr. Addicks! Did you see me?” - -“Yes, you got it at last. Notice the difference?” - -“Yes, indeed!” - -“Of course you do! Before you were fighting with yourself. Now your -muscles all work together. Sit down a minute and rest. Then I want to -see you start from the mark down there and come fairly fast to the -corner. See how quickly you can get your stride and your form. Run -easily to about that white mark on the rim up there and finish hard.” - -Because Perry feared that the others would think him silly, he had -sworn Fudge to secrecy regarding the early-morning lessons, and Fudge, -who was as communicative a youth as any in Clearfield but could be as -close-mouthed as a sulky clam on occasions, kept the secret, and no one -but Mr. Addicks, his pupil and Fudge knew until long after what went on -at Brent Field between six and seven on fair mornings. Perry learned -fast, partly because he was naturally an apt pupil and partly because -Mr. Addicks was a patient and capable instructor. When a point couldn’t -be made quite clear with words Mr. Addicks stepped onto the cinders -and illustrated it, and Perry couldn’t help but understand. I think -Mr. Addicks got as much pleasure, and possibly as much benefit, from -the lessons as Perry did. He confessed the second morning that what -little running he had done the day before had lamed him considerably, -and declared his intention of getting back into trim again and staying -there. At the end of a week he was doing two and three laps of the -track and never feeling it. Fudge, who joined them occasionally, became -ardently admiring of such running as that of Mr. Addicks’ and regretted -that he had not gone in for the middle distances. “That,” he confided -to Perry one morning, “is what I call the p-p-p-poetry of motion!” And -he managed to make it sound absolutely original! - -Mr. Addicks insisted that Perry should specialize on the -two-hundred-and-twenty-yards dash, and coached him carefully over -almost every foot of that distance, from the moment he put his -spikes into the holes and awaited the signal, until he had crossed -the line, arms up and head back. Perry, who had been complimented on -his starting, discovered to his surprise that he was very much of a -duffer at it. Mr. Addicks made him arrange his holes further apart in -each direction and showed him how to crouch with less strain on his -muscles. And he showed him how to get away from the mark with a quicker -straightening of the body, so that, after a week of practice, he could -find his stride at the end of the first fifteen yards and be running -with body straight and in form. And then at last one morning there came -a time-trial over the two hundred and twenty yards and, with Fudge -sending him away and Mr. Addicks holding the watch at the finish, Perry -put every ounce of power into his running and trotted back to be shown -a dial on which the hand had been stopped at twenty-four and one-fifth! - -“Why――why――――” stammered Perry breathlessly, “that’s a fifth under the -time Lanny made last year!” - -“That doesn’t signify much,” replied Mr. Addicks. “This time may be -a fifth of a second wrong one way or another. And you must remember -that White probably made his record when he was tired from the hundred -yards. Anyway, it’s fair time, Perry, and if you can do as well as that -in the meet you’ll probably get second place at least.” - -Fudge, hurrying up to learn the result, stuttered rapturously on -being told. “I t-t-t-told him he’d m-m-m-make a p-p-peach of a -s-s-s-sprinter! D-d-d-didn’t――――” - -“You did,” laughed Perry. “Couldn’t I try the hundred now, Mr. Addicks?” - -“Not to-day, son. Too much is enough. We’ll try that some other time. -Don’t work too hard this afternoon, by the way. It’s easy to get stale -at this stage of the game. And the meet is less than two weeks off.” - -“Gee,” sighed Fudge, “I w-w-wish you’d sh-sh-show me something about -th-th-th-throwing the hammer!” - -“I would if I knew anything about it, Fudge. But I thought you were -getting on swimmingly.” - -“Pretty fair, sir. Only Falkland keeps on beating me by four or five -feet every time. I wish I were taller, that’s what I wish! He’s almost -six inches taller than I am and his arms are longer.” - -“You might wear stilts,” Perry suggested. - -“Or put French heels on your shoes,” laughed Mr. Addicks. - -Fudge sighed dolefully and then brightened. “Anyway,” he said, “I can -beat Thad! And he’s older than I, and bigger, too.” - -“Whatever happens,” said Mr. Addicks as they crossed the field, “I’ve -got to see that meet, fellows!” - -“Of course,” agreed Fudge. “Mr. Brent will let you off, won’t he?” - -“It isn’t Mr. Brent who has the say so,” replied the other with a -smile. “It’s my pocketbook, Fudge.” - -“Oh! But I thought you were making a heap of money now, sir. You went -and took that other room and――and all.” - -“That’s why I’m still poor, Four-Fingered Pete. Earning an honest -living is hard work. Sometimes I think I’ll go back to train-robbery.” - -“Aren’t you ever going to forget that?” wailed Fudge. - -Baseball was now well into mid-season. Seven games had been played, -of which two had been lost, one tied and the rest won. A Second Team, -captained by Sprague McCoy, was putting the regulars on their mettle -three afternoons a week and was playing an occasional contest of its -own with an outside nine. Dick Lovering was fairly well satisfied with -his charges, although it was too early to predict what was to happen in -the final game with Springdale, nearly a month distant. The pitching -staff was gradually coming around into shape now that warm weather -had arrived. Tom Haley, still first-choice box-artist, had pitched -a no-hit game against Locust Valley and of late had gone well-nigh -unpunished. - -The Templeton game had been somewhat of a jolt, to use Captain Jones’ -inelegant but expressive phrase, inasmuch as Templeton had been looked -on as an easy adversary, and Joe Browne, in process of being turned -into a third-choice pitcher, had started in the box against them. Joe -had been literally slaughtered in exactly two-thirds of one inning and -had thereupon gone back to right field, yielding the ball to Nostrand. -But Nostrand, while faring better, had been by no means invulnerable. -Even if he had held the enemy safe, however, Clearfield would still -have been defeated, for her hitting that day was so poor that she was -unable to overcome the four runs which Templeton had piled up in that -luckless first inning. The First Team had to stand a deal of ragging -from the Second Team fellows when they got back, for the Second had -gone down to Lesterville and won handily from a hard-hitting team of -mill operatives who had claimed the county championship for several -years. To be sure, the Second Team fellows had returned rather the -worse for wear, Terry Carson having a black eye, Howard Breen a badly -spiked instep and McCoy a bruised knee, but still they had conquered! - -The first game with Springdale――they played a series for two games -out of three――was scheduled for the fourth of June at Clearfield. The -second contest was to be held at Springdale a week later, which was -the date of the dual meet, and the third, if necessary, was to take -place at Clearfield on the seventeenth. Just now it was on the first -of these contests that the eyes of Dick and Captain Warner Jones and -the players themselves were fixed. Dick was anxious to get that first -game, whatever happened afterwards. In the second contest Clearfield -was to do without the services of Lanny as catcher, for Lanny was due -on that day to stow away some thirteen or fourteen points for the Track -Team, and while Pete Robey could be depended on to catch a good game, -Lanny’s absence from the line-up was bound to be felt. So Dick was out -after that first encounter, realizing that with that put safely on ice -he would be able to accept a defeat the following Saturday with a fair -degree of philosophy. Perhaps, fortunately for the nine, two other -members who had tried for the Track Team had failed, and Lanny was the -only one who stood to make history in two branches of athletics this -spring. - -Bert Cable, last year’s captain, labored indefatigably and was of much -assistance to Dick who, handicapped as he was by his infirmity, was -forced to do most of his coaching from the bench. That was an extremely -busy week for the Clearfield High School Baseball Team, and Gordon -Merrick confided to Lanny on Thursday that if Dick sent him to the -batting-net the next day he would probably go mad and bite someone. -“Why, last night,” he said, “I dreamed that Tom and Nostrand and Joe -Browne and two or three others were all pitching to me at once! My arms -are still lame from that nightmare!” - -“Well, there won’t be anything very strenuous to-morrow,” Lanny -comforted. “In fact, you’ll get off easier than I shall, for I’ve got -to do track work.” - -“You’re an idiot to try both,” said Gordon. “What’s going to happen to -us next week, I’d like to know, with Robey catching.” - -“Oh, Pete will get along all right. In fact, he’s a mighty good -catcher, Gordon.” - -“He’s all right at catching, but a child could steal on him. He can’t -get the ball down to second to save his life until the runner’s -brushing the dust from his trousers!” - -“Well, with Tom Haley pitching the runner ought not to get a start off -first. Tom’s the one who can hold ’em.” - -“Maybe, but I’ll bet you anything they steal a half-dozen times on us.” - -“Don’t let them get to first,” advised Lanny. “That’s the safest plan.” - -“Yes, safety first,” agreed the other. “How many races are you down for -next week, Lanny?” - -“Four, sprints and hurdles. But I may not run them all. It depends -on who qualifies. If Arthur and Eg Peyton get placed for the low -hurdles I’ll probably drop out. By the way, that young Hull is quite a -find, Gordie. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him get a second in the -two-twenty. He’s developing into a mighty spry youth. Runs nicely, too. -Lots of form. Funny thing is he never tried the sprints until this -spring.” - -“I guess Skeet is a pretty good trainer, isn’t he?” - -“Y-yes. Yes, Skeet’s all right. The only trouble with Skeet is that he -can’t seem to get it into his head that our chaps are just youngsters. -He expects them to stand a lot of hard work and then can’t understand -why they get tired and loaf. Still, he’s all right, and I wouldn’t be a -bit surprised if we won this year.” - -“Well,” Gordon laughed, “with you taking part in most of the stunts, -I don’t see how you can help it. How many points are you supposed to -annex, anyway?” - -“Thirteen or fourteen; fourteen if I’m in luck.” - -“How many do we have to have to win? Fifty-something, isn’t it?” - -“Fifty-four ties. Anything more than that wins. Arthur has it doped out -that we’re to get firsts in six events; both sprints, the high hurdles, -the quarter-mile, the pole-vault and the shot-put, and enough seconds -and thirds to give us sixty points.” - -“First place counts five and second place three――――” - -“And third place one. I don’t remember just how Arthur arrives at -his result, but he gets there somehow. It’s going to be a good meet, -anyhow, and I’m sorry you won’t be here to see it.” - -“Maybe I shall be,” responded Gordon pessimistically, “if Dick doesn’t -stop batting practice. I’ve only got two arms, and they won’t swing -many more times without dropping off! I’d like to see you run away from -those Springdale chumps, too. I suppose you’ll win that purple pennant -the girls have put up.” - -“Don’t know about that. I wouldn’t object to having it. It’s mighty -good-looking, and purple goes well with my complexion.” - -“Complexion!” jibed Gordon. “You haven’t any more complexion than a -board fence. By the way, did you see that they were patching the fence -to-day?” - -“Yes, and I hear they’re going to fix up the track for us a bit before -the meet. Wonder where they’re getting the money. Last time I heard -anything about it they had about sixty cents in the treasury.” - -“We’ve had two or three pretty fair-sized crowds out there so far. I -dare say the Corwin game brought in fifty or sixty dollars.” - -“And they got a third of it. Well, I don’t care where the money comes -from. I’m glad they’re going to mend the track. I’d hate to have -Springdale see it the way it is.” - -“I think it’s silly to fix it. They ought to leave it the way it is and -pray for rain. Then maybe some of the Springdale chaps would fall in -the puddles and drown.” - -“You’ve got a mean disposition,” laughed Lanny. - -“I’ve got a very fine disposition,” returned Gordon with dignity, -“but it’s being ruined by Dick Lovering and batting practice. Bet you -anything I don’t get a single hit Saturday.” - -“That’s right, don’t; make ’em all doubles! By the way, they’ll -probably work that left-hander of theirs against us in the first game. -I wish we had more left-hand batters.” - -“That will give Breen a show, maybe. He and Cotner and Scott are our -only port-siders, I think.” - -“Nostrand bats left-handed. If Springdale pitches Newton, Dick may use -Nostrand instead of Tom Haley. I hope he doesn’t, though. Nostrand’s a -pretty fair pitcher, but he can’t hold them on the bases the way Tom -can.” - -“No, and he scares me to death every time he pegs across. I always -expect the ball to go over my head. He needs a lot of practice throwing -to first.” - -“He’s a corking good fielder, though, Gordie. Don’t forget that. Well, -here’s where I leave you. What are you doing this evening?” - -“Nothing special. I’ve got some chemistry work to make up, though. Why? -Anything doing?” - -“Come on over to Morris’s. He’s fixed some electric lights over the -tennis court and is going to try and play at night.” - -“Don’t remember being invited.” - -“What of it? It isn’t a party.” - -“All right, but don’t expect me to play. It’s too much like swinging a -bat! Stop by for me.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -OUT AT THE PLATE! - - -Clearfield turned out well on Saturday for the first Springdale game, -while the visitors swelled the proceeds by filling most of one whole -section behind third base. The day was fair but rather too cool for -the players, with a chilly east wind blowing down the field, a wind -that puffed up the dust from the base-paths, whisked bits of paper -around and interfered to some extent with the judging of flies in -the outfield. Springdale was in holiday mood, armed with a multitude -of blue banners and accompanied by a thick sprinkling of blue-gowned -young ladies whose enthusiasm was even more intense than that of -their escorts. Clearfield’s cheerers had to work hard to equal the -slogans that came down from that third-base stand, and Toby Sears, -cheer-leader, was forced to many appeals before he got the results he -wanted. - -Clearfield’s line-up was the same she had presented in Wednesday’s -game against Benton: Bryan, 2b.; Farrar, cf.; Merrick, 1b.; Scott, -3b.; Cotner, lf.; Jones, ss.; White, c.; Browne, rf.; Nostrand, p. -Haley was expected to go to the rescue if needed, and seven substitutes -adorned the bench and hoped to get into the game. Springdale started -with her left-hander, Newton, on the mound, and Newton, who was a big, -lazy-looking but quite competent youth, disposed of Bryan, Farrar and -Merrick without difficulty. Neither team hit safely, in fact, until -the last of the third, when Lanny managed to land a short fly just -beyond third-baseman’s reach. But Lanny, although he reached second on -a sacrifice bunt by Browne, didn’t see the plate, for Newton registered -his third strike-out against Nostrand and caused Bryan to hit into -second-baseman’s hands. - -In the fourth inning Springdale had a batting streak that lasted -until she had men on third and second with but one out. Then Tom -Nostrand passed the next batsman, who had a reputation for long hits -to the outfield, and, with the bases filled and the blue flags waving -hopefully, he struck out the next two opponents. The cheer that went up -from the Clearfield stand when the last man turned away from the plate -was undoubtedly plainly heard on the other side of town! - -Clearfield’s inning produced plenty of thrills. Farrar went out, -shortstop to first, but Gordon drove a clean safety over second and -went to third when Scott doubled to right. Cotner did his best to -sacrifice to the outfield, but the result was a foul back of first -and a second put-out. The Springdale catcher made two bluff throws to -second, hoping to coax Gordon to the plate, but the trick didn’t work. -With two balls and one strike against him, Captain Jones refused the -next delivery and had the satisfaction of hearing it declared a ball. -Then Newton floated a slow one over for a second strike and, with the -Clearfield coachers howling like wildmen and the Purple’s supporters -shouting from the stands, tried to cut the outer corner of the plate. -Warner spoiled it and the ball glanced into the seats. On third Gordon -danced and ran back and forth, while Scott, halfway between third and -second, dared a throw. Again Newton wound up and again he stepped -forward, and the ball sailed straight along the groove. Gordon dashed -up the path from third, bat and ball met and Captain Jones sped to -first. Scott rounded the last corner and headed for the plate just -as the ball bounded into the hands of the second-baseman. The latter -had plenty of time to peg across to first ahead of Warner Jones, but -something, perhaps the sight of the two runners flying home, made -him hesitate for one fatal instant. When the ball did reach the first -baseman’s impatient glove Jones was crossing the bag. - -Scott slid unchallenged past the plate and tallied the home team’s -second run, and Clearfield exulted strenuously and waved purple flags. -Two runs looked very large just then, but Dick wanted more and sent -Lanny after them. Jones had instructions to steal on the second pitch -and Lanny to hit it out if he could. Newton drove Lanny back from the -plate with his first delivery and it went for a ball. Then, after -throwing twice to first to teach Jones discretion, he sailed a low -one over. Lanny swung at it but missed and Jones beat out the throw -to second by an eyelash. Clearfield howled its glee. That steal upset -Newton and he allowed a pass. With men on second and first and Joe -Browne up another tally seemed quite within the bounds of reason, but -Newton found himself again and, working Browne into the hole with two -strikes and one ball, fooled him on an outshoot that looked very wide -of the plate. Clearfield shrieked disapproval of the decision, but -disapproval didn’t put the runners back on the bases or return Browne -to the plate. Still, two runs were two runs, and, unless Springdale did -a lot better than she had been doing, would prove sufficient to win -the game. - -The fourth and fifth passed uneventfully. Springdale worked hard and -took advantage of everything, but luck was against her when Cotner ran -back to the shadow of the fence in deep left and pulled down a long fly -that might easily have been good for two bases. Springdale had a runner -on first at the time and Cotner’s spectacular catch undoubtedly robbed -her of a tally. After that Scott threw out the next batsman and Bryan -tossed to Jones on the following play. In her half Clearfield got one -man to first on balls, but watched the succeeding three retire on easy -outs. - -It was in the sixth that Springdale began to look dangerous. Dick -had substituted Breen for Joe Browne, in the hope that the former -would take more kindly to Newton’s delivery, and it was Breen who was -directly responsible for what happened. Nostrand disposed of the first -batsman easily enough, but the next man waited him out and finally, -after popping fouls all over the place, secured a pass. The next man -laid down a slow bunt toward the box and Nostrand fielded to Jones. -The latter, however, failed to complete the double. The following -batter hit safely past Scott and second and first bases were occupied. -Springdale’s catcher was up now and he had so far proved an easy victim -to Nostrand’s slow ball. But this time the signs failed. With two -strikes against him he managed to connect with a waister and sent it -arching into short right field. Gordon started back, but it was quite -evidently Breen’s ball, and Breen was trotting in for it. But something -happened. Perhaps the wind caught the sphere and caused the fielder’s -undoing. At all events, the ball went over Breen’s head by several feet -and two runs crossed the plate! - -In the ensuing dismay and confusion the batsman slid safely to second. -Springdale stood up and yelled like mad, and, after a minute of -dismayed silence, Toby Sears managed to arouse the purple-decked seats -to response. But the Clearfield cheering was lacking in conviction just -then! Breen, feeling horribly conspicuous out there in right field, -ground his fist into the palm of his glove and gritted his teeth. -Captain Jones’ voice came back to him cheerfully: - -“Never mind that, Howard! Let’s go after ’em hard now!” - -And go after them hard they did, and when Newton, the subsequent -batsman, slammed the ball into short center Breen was there as soon as -Farrar and could have fielded the ball had not Farrar attended to it. -As it was the batsman was satisfied with one base, although the runner -ahead reached third in safety. - -Tom Haley had begun to warm up back of first base now. That his -services would be required was soon evident, for Nostrand put himself -in a hole with the next batsman and finally watched him walk to first -and fill the bases. Then Dick nodded, Nostrand dropped the ball and -walked out and Clearfield cheered lustily as Tom Haley peeled off -his sweater. Going into the box with the bases full, even when there -are two out, isn’t a thing to rejoice and be merry over, but, as -Fudge confided to Perry just then, Tom Haley had been put together -without nerves. Tom sped some fast and rather wild ones in the general -direction of Lanny while the Springdale shortstop leaned on his bat and -watched satirically, and the Blue’s supporters expressed derision. But -none of the Clearfield fellows were worried by Tom’s apparent wildness. -Tom always did that when he went as a relief pitcher. And then he -usually tied the batsman in knots! - -Tom did that very thing now. He landed the first ball squarely across -the center of the plate. He put the next one shoulder-high across the -inner corner, and he wasted two more in trying to coax the batter to -reach out. Then, finding that the blue-stockinged one would not oblige -him, he curved his fingers cunningly about the ball and shot it away -and, without waiting, swung on his heel and walked out of the box and -across the diamond, while Clearfield applauded hysterically and a -disgruntled Springdale shortstop tossed his bat down and turned toward -the field wondering if he had really hit as much too soon as it had -seemed to him! - -The Purple went out in order in their half and the seventh inning, -which Clearfield, according to time-honored custom, hailed as the -“lucky seventh” and stood up for, passed into history without adding -further tallies to the score of either team. Springdale went after -the game savagely and succeeded in connecting with Haley’s offers so -frequently that the Clearfield supporters sat on the edges of their -seats and writhed anxiously. But, although the Blue’s batsmen hit -the ball, they failed to “put it where they ain’t,” and sharp, clean -fielding did the rest. For her part, the Purple did no better. One long -fly to deep left looked good for a moment, but the nimble-footed player -out there got under it without any trouble. No one reached first in -either half of the “lucky seventh” and the game went into the eighth -with the score still 2 to 2. - -When the first man had been thrown out, Haley to Merrick, Haley let -down a mite and the Springdale right-fielder smashed out a two-bagger -that sailed high over Bryan’s head and rolled far into the outfield. -After that Haley tightened up again and struck out the next candidate, -and the half was over a few minutes later when the runner was caught -flat-footed off second by a rattling throw-down by Lanny which Bryan -took on the run. - -Merrick was first up in the last half of the inning and, obeying -instructions, hit desperately at the first ball pitched, missed it to -the glee of the Springdale “rooters” and staggered back out of the box. -The next delivery was low and wide. The next one, too, was a ball. Then -came a slow drop, and Gordon, sizing it up nicely, stepped forward and -laid his bat gently against it. It wasn’t an ideal ball to bunt, but -Gordon managed to get his bat a bit over it and at the same moment -start for first. The ball trickled but a scant six feet to the left of -base, but the catcher overran it slightly and threw low to first and -Gordon was safe. - -Scott tried hard to sacrifice with a bunt, but Newton kept them almost -shoulder-high and before he knew it Scott was in the hole. With the -score two and one Newton could afford to waste one, and after he had -tried the patience of the crowd by repeated efforts to catch Gordon -napping at first, he sent in a slow ball that Scott refused. Then, -since the batsman had two strikes on him and would naturally not risk -an attempt to bunt, Newton tried to end the agony by sending a straight -ball waist-high over the outer corner of the plate. Whereupon Scott did -exactly what he’d been told to do and laid the ball down very neatly -halfway between plate and box and streaked to first. He almost made it, -too, but a quick turn and throw by Newton beat him by a foot. Gordon, -however, was safely on second, and Clearfield rejoiced loudly. - -Cotner continued the bunting game, but although he advanced Gordon to -third his bunt went straight to the waiting third-baseman, who had been -playing well in, and he made the second out. Warner Jones got a fine -round of applause as he stepped to the bat and there were cries of -“Give us a home-run, Cap!” “Knock the cover off it!” “Here’s where we -score!” At third-base Gordon ran back and forth along the path and the -coach shouted vociferously, but Newton refused to get rattled. Instead, -to the deep disgust of the Clearfield adherents, he pitched four wide -balls and Warner, tossing aside his bat, walked resentfully to first. -Clearfield loudly censured the pitcher, impolitely intimating that he -was afraid, but Newton only smiled and gave his attention to Lanny. -Four more pitch-outs and Lanny, too, walked, filling the bases and -eliciting derisive and disappointed howls from the Purple. - -Breen was next at bat and, since in spite of being a left-hander, he had -so far failed to solve the Springdale pitcher, the audience expected that -Dick would pull him out and substitute a pinch-hitter――probably McCoy or -Lewis. But, after a momentary stir at the bench and a quick consultation -between Dick and Haley, Breen advanced to the plate, bat in hand. Knowing -ones in the stands shook their heads and grumbled, and Fudge emphatically -condemned proceedings and became very pessimistic. Perry, daring to hint -that perhaps, after all, Dick Lovering had some good reason for allowing -Breen to bat, was silenced by exactly four perfectly good arguments -against such a possibility. By which time Howard Breen had a ball and a -strike on him, the coachers were jumping and shrieking and the purple -flags were waving madly while several hundred voices roared out a bedlam -of sound. For it was now or never, in the belief of most, and a safe hit -was needed very, very badly! - -Breen faced Fortune calmly. Perhaps that misjudgment in right-field――it -couldn’t be scored as an error, but that didn’t take any of the sting -out of it for Howard――had put him on his mettle and endowed him with a -desperate determination to make atonement. And possibly Dick Lovering -was counting on that very thing. At all events Breen came through! With -one strike and two balls against him, Breen picked out a wide curve -and got it on the middle of his bat. It was a lucky hit, but it did -the business. It started over Newton’s head, went up and up, curved -toward the foul-line and finally landed just out of reach of first- and -second-basemen a foot inside the white mark! - -And when second-baseman scooped it up Breen was racing across the bag, -Gordon had tallied and Warner Jones was just sliding into the plate. - -For the succeeding three minutes pandemonium reigned. Purple banners -whipped the air, new straw hats were subjected to outrageous treatment -and caps sailed gloriously into space. At first-base Bryan was hugging -Breen ecstatically and midway between the plate and the pitcher’s box -a half-dozen Springdale players were holding a rueful conference. When -comparative quiet had returned, and after Fudge had saved his face by -carefully explaining that Breen’s hit had been the luckiest fluke that -he, Fudge, had ever witnessed in a long and eventful life, the game -went on. - -Newton for the first time showed nerves. Haley, who was only an average -batter at the best, was sent to first after five deliveries. The -Clearfield cheering, momentarily stilled, broke forth with renewed -vehemence. It was Bryan’s turn at bat. Bryan stood disdainfully inert -while two bad ones passed him, and then Springdale’s relief pitcher, -who had been warming up off and on for the last four innings, took the -helm and Newton, who had pitched a remarkable game up to the eighth -inning, retired to the bench. - -The new twirler, Crowell, was a right-hander and was regarded as -slightly better than Newton. He took his time about starting to work, -but when he finally began he finished the performance neatly enough, -causing Bryan to swing at two very poor offerings and then sneaking a -fast one over for the third strike. - -Springdale ought to have realized then and there that she was beaten. -Everyone else did, and there ensued the beginning of an exodus from the -stands. But those who were on their way out three minutes after the -ninth inning began either scuttled back to their seats or sought places -along the side of the field. - -The new pitcher had done the unexpected. Far out in the field Farrar -and Cotner were chasing back after the rolling ball. Crowell had -landed squarely on Haley’s first pitch and driven it whizzing past the -surprised Captain Jones for three bases! Tom Haley looked about as -astounded as he ever allowed himself to look as he walked to the box -after backing up Lanny. With none out and a runner on third, victory -looked less certain for the Purple. Springdale’s “rooters” yelled -wildly and triumphantly and Springdale’s coachers leaped about like -insane acrobats and volleyed all sorts of advice to the lone runner, -most of it intended for the pitcher’s ears. - -“It’s a cinch, Johnny! You can walk home in a minute! He’s up in the -air like a kite! There’s nothing to it, old man, there’s nothing to it! -Here’s where we roll ’em up! Watch us score! Hi! Hi! Look at that for a -rotten pitch! His arm’s broken in two places! Just tap it, Hughie, just -tap it! He’s all gone now, old man! He hasn’t a thing but his glove! -Come on now! Let’s have it! Right down the alley, Hughie! Pick your -place and let her go!” - -But Hughie struck out, in spite of all the advice and encouragement -supplied him, also the next man up, and Clearfield began to breathe a -bit easier. But the trouble was by no means over, for an inshoot -landed against the ribs of the next batsman and he ambled to first, -solicitously rubbing his side and grinning at Tom Haley. - -“Sorry,” called Tom. - -“I’ll bet you are!” was the response. - -Springdale’s center-fielder, second man on her batting list, waited -until the runner on first had taken second unchallenged and then lifted -a fly to Breen. The latter got it without altering his position and -pegged to the plate, but Crowell beat out the throw by a yard and the -score was 4 to 3. On the throw-in the batsman went to second and with -two out and two on bases the infield spread out again. There was some -delay while Springdale selected a pinch-hitter, and then, when he had -rubbed his hands in the dirt, rubbed the dirt off on his trousers, -gripped his bat and fixed his feet firmly to earth, all with the grim, -determined air of an eleventh-hour hero, Lanny stepped to one side of -the plate and Tom Haley tossed him four wide ones! - -It was the Blue’s turn to howl derisively and the Blue did it. And the -Purple shouted derisively back. So much, you see, depends on the point -of view! The bases were filled now and a hit would not only tie the -score but add a second tally to Springdale’s column. But neither Lanny -nor Haley appeared worried, not even when the next batsman appeared in -the person of the Blue’s captain and third-baseman. Still, Tom worked a -bit more deliberately than usual, studied Lanny’s signals thoughtfully, -seemed bent on consuming as much time as possible. The Blue’s captain -swayed his bat back and forth and strove to restrain his impatience, -but that he was impatient was proved when Tom’s first delivery, a ball -that Lanny picked almost out of the dirt, fooled him into offering at -it. Clearfield shouted joyfully as the bat swept harmlessly above the -ball and the men on bases scuttled back. The batsman grew cautious -then and let the next two deliveries pass unheeded, guessing them -correctly. The noise which had been for some minutes loud and unceasing -dwindled to silence as Tom nodded a reply to Lanny’s signal, wound up -and lurched forward. The Springdale captain expected a good one and -recognized it when he saw it. Bat and ball met sharply and he raced -down the first base path. - -Cries filled the air, the bases emptied. The ball, smashed directly at -Tom Haley, bounded out of his glove and rolled back toward the third -base line. Tom, momentarily confused, sprang after it, scooped it up -from almost under the feet of the speeding runner from third and, -without a moment’s indecision, hurled it to Lanny. And Lanny, dropping -to his knees on the plate, got it a foot from the ground just as the -spiked shoes of the runner shot into him. Catcher and runner, blue -stockings and purple, became confusedly mixed up for a moment, and then -Clearfield, seeing the umpire’s arm swing backward over his shoulder, -burst into triumph and flowed onto the field! - -[Illustration: “Lanny, dropping to his knees on the plate, got it a -foot from the ground”] - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -CLEARFIELD CONCEDES THE MEET - - -But Clearfield paid dearly for that victory. - -Late Sunday afternoon four dejected youths sat in the library at Guy -Felker’s house and waited for the report of Skeet Presser, who had -just joined them. Skeet, having stuffed his cloth cap into his pocket, -seated himself and smiled about him, but the smile was a dispirited -effort. - -“Did you see him?” asked Guy. - -“Yes, I saw him. Just came from there. He’s in bad shape, Cap. He’s -got two cuts just above his left knee as long as my finger and pretty -nearly to the bone. Ugly wounds they are, the doctor says. I didn’t see -them. He’s all bandaged up. Anyway, he’s out of it, Guy.” - -There was a moment’s silence. Then: - -“Can’t run at all, you think?” - -“Run! Great Cæsar’s Ghost, how could any fellow run with a knee like -that? He’ll be lucky if he’s able to catch two weeks from now, I -guess.” - -“Catch!” said Guy bitterly. “Confound his catching! If he hadn’t -insisted on doing that he wouldn’t have been hurt. It’s a nice outlook -for the Track Team, isn’t it? We’ve got about as much chance to win -Saturday as we have of going skating!” - -The coach nodded. “That’s right,” he agreed. “Lanny was good for -thirteen points anyway. Well, I don’t know. Only thing we can do now is -make the best showing possible and――――” - -“We’re not beaten yet,” said Harry Partridge. “Kirke’s nearly as fast -as Lanny in the sprints, isn’t he?” - -“Nearly, yes,” replied Skeet. “But that’s not good enough. Springdale’s -got fellows nearly as fast, too. For that matter, that youngster -Hull has been doing some fast work. We may win a first in one of the -sprints; I’m not saying we can’t. It’s the hurdles that worry me most. -Lanny was down for both and he’d have run them both if we’d needed him. -With Lanny out we’ve got only Beaton here and Peyton. I’m not throwing -off on you, Beaton, but you’ll have to dig to beat out Springdale’s -best man.” - -“I know,” answered the manager, “but, look here, Skeet, if we can -win one first in the sprints and get, say, six points out of the -hurdles――――” - -“Oh, don’t be an ass, Arthur,” interrupted Guy crossly. “You can -figure until you get writer’s cramp, but that doesn’t alter the fact -that we’re dished. As Skeet says, the only thing we can do is to make -Springdale work hard for the meet. It’s perfectly rotten luck!” - -There was another brief silence. Then Toby Sears asked: “How did Lanny -get hurt, anyway? I didn’t see it. I was so excited――――” - -“Blocked off that runner of theirs at the plate. Someone hit a fierce -liner at Haley and he knocked it down and it rolled over toward third -base line. When he got it it was too late to peg to first and he -chucked it to Lanny about a half-second before the runner got there. -Lanny dropped to the plate and the runner slid feet-first into him and -his spikes ripped right across Lanny’s knee. It was a mighty pretty -piece of blocking, but he ought never to have taken such a chance.” And -Partridge shook his head dismally. - -“It wouldn’t have hurt anything if they’d taken that old game,” said -Guy bitterly. “They had two more to play.” - -“Seems to me,” said Sears, “it would be a good plan to keep quiet about -Lanny’s trouble. There’s no use in letting Springdale know he can’t -run, is there?” - -“I don’t see that it matters much whether they know or don’t know,” -said Guy. “They’ll find it out Saturday.” - -“No, Sears is right,” said Skeet thoughtfully. “We’ll keep it dark. -It may disarrange their plans if they find at the last moment that he -isn’t entered. Did their ball-players know he was hurt badly?” - -“No,” answered Beaton, “I don’t think so. Lanny walked to the bench -pretty well. A lot of fellows were with him and I don’t believe -Springdale noticed anything.” - -“Then we’ll say nothing about it,” said Skeet. “The doctor told me he’d -be around in a couple of days and Lanny says he’ll come out and do all -he can for us in the way of coaching. I’m going to get him to take the -hurdlers in hand.” - -“How does Lanny take it?” asked Harry Partridge. - -“Not very well just yet. Rather broken-up about it. He told me he would -rather have won the sprints than played ball. I wish he’d thought of -that before. Still, I don’t suppose we can expect the ball team to give -up the only first-class catcher they’ve got to oblige us.” - -“Maybe,” observed Toby Sears, “it’s a waste of time, fellows, but -let’s go over the list again and see if we can figure out a win.” - -“Figure all you like,” said the coach as he got up. “I’ve got to be -going, fellows. But when you’re through figuring just remember that -no meet was ever won with a lead pencil. If you want to win Saturday -just make up your minds that you’re going to go out there and do about -twenty per cent. better than you ever have done. That’s the only way -you’ll win. See you later.” - -So well was the secret of Lanny’s injury kept that few knew of it until -his appearance at the field on Tuesday. It had been known that Lanny -had been spiked in blocking the plate, but it was not supposed that he -had been seriously hurt, and the sight of him swinging a stiff left -leg about with the aid of a crutch came as a big surprise. Even then, -however, Lanny laughingly denied that he was badly injured. “Just a -couple of scratches,” he said, “but they make my leg sort of stiff -while they’re healing. And I don’t want to take any chances, you know.” - -That sounded all right, but by Thursday the truth somehow got out -and the school in general, by this time quite enthusiastic over the -dual meet, discussed it with dismay and disappointment. With Lanny -out of the meet Clearfield had, they decided, absolutely no chance -of victory, and fellows who had intended to remain at home and view -Springdale’s defeat on cinders and turf now decided to accompany the -baseball team on Saturday. “No good staying around here and seeing -Springdale lick the stuffing out of us. Let’s go over there and root -for the Nine.” - -Fudge was one who predicted overwhelming defeat for the Purple. -He figured it out for Mr. Addicks and Perry one day and proved -conclusively that the best possible score for Clearfield was thirty-two -points. “And that,” explained Fudge, “means that we’ll have to get -eight points in the hammer-throw.” - -“Maybe,” said Perry, “we’ll make a better showing than we expect, -Fudge. Mander almost equaled Felker’s record at the pole-vault -yesterday.” - -“That’s all right,” replied Fudge firmly. “I’ve allowed us six points -in the pole-vault. We’re going to get licked good and hard. I’m sorry -for Guy Felker, too. He’s worked pretty hard ever since last year. -Remember how he got fellows out in the fall and made them work? -Everyone laughed at him then, but if it wasn’t for Lanny getting hurt -Guy would have shown them something. We’d have won easily if the meet -had been last Saturday instead of next.” - -“I’ve seen it happen more than once,” observed Mr. Addicks, “that a -team with a heavy handicap has gone in and won. Seems like knowing -you’ve _got_ to work helps a heap sometimes. Don’t give in yet, Fudge.” - -The last work for the Track Team came Thursday. There had been -time-trials for the runners Monday and some pretty strenuous work for -all hands on Wednesday, but Thursday’s practice was little more than a -warming up. Mr. Addicks, however, wasn’t in favor of letting down too -soon, and on Friday morning Perry was out on the track as usual and was -put through his paces quite as vigorously as on any other morning. On -Friday afternoon the track men went for a short run across country and -that ended the season’s work. - -While Clearfield still looked for a defeat on the morrow, it no longer -conceded the meet to Springdale by any overwhelming majority of points, -and there were others beside Arthur Beaton who even dared hope for a -victory by a narrow margin. Captain Felker, however, was not one of -these. Guy faced the inevitable grimly, determined to at least make a -good showing. Lanny worked hard with the coaching and under his tuition -the two hurdlers, Beaton and Peyton, showed improvement by Thursday. So -far no inkling had reached Springdale of Lanny’s trouble and his name -had been included in the list of Clearfield entrants which was sent -to Springdale three days before the meet. Springdale’s list included -thirty-one names and she had entered at least four fellows in each -event. For the sprints and hurdles the number was six. Guy shook his -head dismally over that list. - -Saturday morning Perry slept late for the first time in many days, and -after breakfast went over to Mr. Addicks’ rooms and listened to final -instructions. He was a little bit jumpy to-day. When Mr. Addicks had -delivered the last of his advice he suggested that Perry accompany him -across the river and watch him work. “The walk will do you good,” he -said. “If you get bored you can come back whenever you like.” - -Fudge came in before they got started and went along. Fudge was about -as nervous as a block of wood. He was very full of the impending affair -but quite untroubled. The only thing that seemed to really matter to -Fudge was his chance of beating Falkland in the hammer-throw. Whether -he out-tossed the Springdale fellows apparently failed to bother him. -The boys remained with Mr. Addicks until the middle of the morning, -and then, extracting a promise from him that he would attend the -meet, they returned across the river and, a little later, witnessed -the departure of the ball team for Springdale, doing their share of -the cheering as the special trolley-car moved away from the Square. -After all, only a small number of fellows accompanied the Nine, most of -them, for one reason or another, deciding to stand by the Track Team. -Dinner was early to-day and Perry was far from hungry. But Fudge, who -had accepted Mrs. Hull’s invitation, did full justice to the viands, as -observed wonderingly and rather enviously by his host. - -The program was to start at two-thirty and long before that the two -boys were dressed and waiting. The day was fair and hot, unseasonably -hot for so early in June. By a little after two the stands were already -well sprinkled with spectators. The Springdale team was late in -arriving and it was almost twenty minutes to three when the entrants -in the hundred-yards-dash were summoned to the starting line. Perry, -who had been restlessly circulating about the field for a half-hour, -followed the others with his heart thumping uncomfortably. It suddenly -occurred to him that he was about to take part in his first real race, -and that his effort was to be witnessed by nearly a thousand persons. -He looked across the field and down it to the crowded stands, where -purple and blue pennants made spots of color in the hot sunlight, and -for a moment wished himself far away. Then the names were being called -for the first heat and he forgot the watchers. To his relief, he was -not summoned. Neither was Lanny. Kirke and Soper were on the track with -three Springdale runners when the whistle was blown. There was a minute -of silence. Then the starter’s voice sounded crisply. - -“Ready!... Set!...” - -The pistol barked. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -SPRINGDALE LEADS - - -“_Go it, Kirke!_” - -Perry turned to find Lanny at his elbow, Lanny enveloped in a brown -bath-robe and minus his crutch. Then the shouts of the crowd at the -finish drew Perry’s gaze down the track again as the flying figures -crossed the line. From back there it was hard to say who had been -placed, but presently, as the sprinters returned, Lanny hurried stiffly -to meet Kirke. - -“All right, Orson?” called Lanny. Kirke shook his head, smiling and -panting. - -“I’m out,” he answered. “Soper’s placed, though. I was fourth.” - -“Hard luck,” said Lanny. “You’ll make it in the two-twenty, though.” He -returned to where Perry was standing. “Funny that Kirke let Soper beat -him,” he said. “He’s been finishing ahead of Soper right along, hasn’t -he?” - -“Yes, but I think Kirke’s better in the two-twenty. Are you going to -run, Lanny?” - -Lanny pursed his mouth grimly. “I don’t believe it will be running, but -I’m going to start just for fun.” - -“But won’t it hurt your leg?” asked Perry anxiously. - -“Doc says so, but he’s an old granny. I won’t be able to finish, I -guess, but I hate not to have a shot at it.” - -“Griner!” called the Clerk of the Course. “Stratton! Stratton?” - -“Withdrawn,” someone answered. The Clerk’s pencil went through the name. - -“White?” - -“Here,” replied Lanny as he took his place. - -“Powers?” - -“All right, sir.” - -“Hill?” - -“That should be Hull, sir,” said Lanny. - -“Hull?” - -“Here, sir,” replied Perry, joining the others. - -“That’s all, then, Mr. Starter. Only four.” - -“Are you all ready, boys?” asked the starter. “On your marks! Hold -on there, Number 7! Don’t try that or you’ll get set back. On your -marks!... Set!...” - -The pistol banged and the four jumped away. Perry, on the outer side -of the straightaway, was in his stride the first of the three and, -halfway down the track, shot a side-long look at the others. Lanny was -not in sight, but the nearer Springdale youth was a yard or so behind -and the further one running about even. As the first three were to be -placed, Perry slowed up and took it easy, finishing a close third. Half -way down the track Lanny was being helped over the strings to the turf. -Perry, turning back, heard a timer say laughingly: “Fast time, Jim; ten -and four-fifths!” Lanny was seated on the turf ruefully holding his -injured knee when Perry reached him. - -“I’m sorry, Lanny,” he said. “Did you fall?” - -“No, I just found I couldn’t do it, Perry. How’s the track?” - -“Fine! Say, I wish Kirke had got placed. They’ve got four to our two in -the final.” - -“Never mind, you or Soper will get a first. Those chaps aren’t fast. -Give me a pull up, will you?” - -Perry got back into his dressing-gown and joined the throng across -the field, at the finish of the 440-yards. Sears, Todd and Cranston -lined up for the Purple in the quarter-mile and Springdale placed five -runners at the mark, amongst them Davis, the Blue’s captain. It was -Davis who took the lead at the end of the first hundred yards and, -although hard-pressed by Toby Sears and a second Springdale runner, -kept it to the tape. At the turn Davis was two yards to the good and -Sears was leading the third man by a scant two feet. Todd was in fifth -place and the other Clearfield entrant in seventh. At the beginning -of the stretch Sears gained half the distance separating him from -Davis, and until well down the track it looked as if he might get the -lead. Davis, however, had plenty of reserve and forty yards from the -finish it was evident that Sears had shot his bolt. Davis finished -first by three yards and a second Springdale runner ousted Sears from -second place almost at the tape. Springdale had made a good start with -eight points to Clearfield’s one, and the Blue’s adherents cheered -approvingly. - -The high hurdles followed and again Springdale triumphed, getting -first and third place. Beaton finished second but was disqualified for -upsetting too many hurdles, and Peyton got the honor. The time was -eighteen seconds flat and bettered the dual meet record by a fifth of a -second. - -In the final of the 100-yards dash Perry and Soper were opposed to four -wearers of the blue. Perry, digging his holes, tried to recall all -the good advice Mr. Addicks had given him, but couldn’t remember much -of anything. His heart was beating very fast, and he was as nearly -frightened as he had been for a long time. He looked over at Soper, -who had drawn the inside lane, and saw that even that more experienced -runner was plainly nervous. Then the starter’s voice came and Perry -settled his toes in the holes, crouched and waited. - -“Set!” - -Some over-anxious Springdale sprinter leaped away and it had all to -be gone through with again. But at last the pistol sounded and Perry, -without knowing just how he had got there, found himself well down -the track, his legs flying, his arms pumping up and forward and down -and back, his lungs working like a pair of bellows and the cries and -exhortations of the spectators in his ears. A youth with blue stripes -down the seams of his fluttering trunks was a good yard in the lead and -Perry, with three others, next. Someone, and Perry silently hoped it -wasn’t Soper, was no longer in sight. Perry put the last gasp of breath -and last ounce of strength into the final twenty yards in a desperate -effort to overtake that Springdale runner, but it wasn’t until they -were almost at the tape that he knew he had gone ahead, and then, as he -threw his arms up, a third white-clad figure flashed past! - -A half-minute later Perry learned that Soper had won and that he had -finished in second place by a scant two feet. Soper’s time was ten and -a fifth. Perry had feared that the form which had flashed to the front -at the tape had been that of a Springdale runner and was so relieved -that it didn’t occur to him until some time later to either regret that -he had not finished in first place or congratulate himself on capturing -second. But Guy Felker, after hugging Soper, almost wrung Perry’s hand -off. - -“That was bully!” he repeated over and over. “That was bully! We get -eight out of it and didn’t count on more than four! You’re all right, -Hull! Better rest up now, boy. Remember the two-twenty’s coming. Hello, -Lanny! What do you say to that? Wasn’t it bully?” - -Perry received Lanny’s praise and, rather embarrassed, went back for -his robe. He wondered if Mr. Addicks had seen him, and he tried to -catch sight of that gentleman in the audience. But half the folks were -still standing on their feet and shouting and it was no use. He wished -Mr. Addicks might have been down here on the field to-day. As he passed -the blackboard a boy was writing the new figures down. - -“Clearfield, 12; Springdale, 15,” was the announcement. - -He tried to figure out how that could be, but was far too excited. When -he had wrapped his robe around him he went back to the dressing-room -for a rub, crossing the track just ahead of the half-milers who were -coming around the turn. He stopped and watched them pass. Todd was -running in third place, hugging the rim closely, and Lasker was on -his heels. Train was one of a bunch of four who trailed a couple of -yards back. Springdale had entered five men to Clearfield’s three. -Perry missed the finish of the half-mile, but Beaton brought the news -into the dressing-room presently. Only Lasker had been placed, winning -second. Linn of Springdale had finished first by nearly thirty yards in -two minutes, eight and two-fifths seconds. Todd had been in the lead -for the whole of the third lap but hadn’t been able to keep it. He and -Train had been a half-lap behind at the end. - -“What’s the score now, Arthur?” asked someone. - -Beaton shook his head wryly. “Springdale’s about twenty-one, I think, -to our fifteen. We’ve got to begin and do something pretty soon. Guy’s -got first in the high-jump cinched, though. They’re almost through.” - -“How’s the shot-put getting on?” Perry asked. - -“Not finished yet,” replied Beaton. “I guess they’ve got it, though.” -He hurried out in response to imperative requests for low hurdlers, -and Perry followed presently. The 220-yards-hurdle trials had brought -out seven entrants and so two preliminary dashes were necessary. -Fortunately, perhaps, the two Clearfield candidates, Beaton and Peyton, -were not drawn for the same trial. As a result Peyton easily won in his -event from three Springdale fellows and Arthur Beaton finished second -without hurrying in the next trial. Then the hurdles were quickly -lifted aside and the milers began to assemble at the starting point. - -Springdale had been conceded this event two weeks ago, but in his -last time-trial Smith, of Clearfield, had gone over the course in the -commendable time of five minutes and six and two-fifths seconds and the -Purple was entertaining a secret hope that Smith might somehow prove -too good for the Blue’s crack runner. Eight fellows started, three for -Clearfield and five for Springdale. The policy of the latter school was -evidently to start as many fellows in each event as possible on the -chance of displacing a Clearfield entrant. In the present case it was -speedily apparent that at least two of Springdale’s milers were not -expected to finish. - -At the end of the first of the four laps the race had settled into two -divisions――Smith, Toll and Tupper, wearers of the purple C, running -well ahead with an equal number of Springdale fellows, and the other -two of the Blue’s force lagging a hundred yards behind. Wallace, the -Springdale hope, was allowing one of his teammates to set the pace and -was right on his heels. Two feet behind him trotted Smith, followed -by Tupper, a third Springdale runner, and Toll. The six were hugging -the rim and watching each other craftily. In that order they passed -around the first turn. Then Toll began to go ahead and the challenge -was accepted by the third Springdale man. Toll finally ran even with -Wallace in the backstretch and on the next turn dropped into the lead. - -The half-distance found daylight between Wallace and Smith, and the -former pace-maker fell back into fourth place. At the turn Toll began -to hit it up. Wallace sped close behind him. Smith came next, some -four yards back. Strung out behind Smith were a second blue runner, -Tupper, and, dropping back every moment, the last Springdale runner. In -that order they came down the straightaway, passed the mark and went -doggedly on, to the ringing of the gong announcing the last lap. The -stands were shouting confusedly. The leaders passed the two lagging -Springdale runners before the turn was begun. As Toll led the way into -the backstretch it was evident that he was about done for and a rod or -two further along Smith fairly leaped into the lead, taking Wallace by -surprise. But the three or four yards which he gained were quickly cut -down. Tupper closed in on Wallace but could not pass him, and as the -next turn was reached began to fall back. - -Smith, with Wallace close on his heels, entered the straightaway, -running desperately. Behind him, some ten yards back, came a second -Springdale man, and, twenty yards or so behind him, Tupper and a third -wearer of the blue were fighting it out. For a moment it seemed that -Smith might win, but fifty yards from the tape Wallace uncorked a -sprint that swept him past Smith and well into the lead, while the next -Springdale runner, head back, challenged Smith for second place and -slowly closed up the distance between them. Wallace crossed a good six -yards ahead and Smith, running now on pure nerve, saw the second blue -adversary edge past him a few feet from the line. - -Smith staggered as he crossed and fell limply into the outstretched -arms of Skeet. Tupper finished fourth, almost as exhausted, and the -others trailed in one by one. The pace had been a fast one, the -winner’s time being caught at five minutes, five and one-fifth seconds, -and Smith, finishing third, had run the distance well under his best -record. - -By that time the result of the high-jump was being announced, and -Clearfield had won first place and halved third. Felker had cleared -the bar at five feet and six inches, a Springdale jumper had secured -second place with five feet and five and a half inches and Todd had -tied with a Springdale fellow at five-feet-four. A moment later the -figures showing the score were changed again. With just half the events -decided, Clearfield had 21½ points and Springdale 32½. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE PURPLE PENNANT - - -It was getting well along toward five o’clock and the sun was sending -slanting rays down Brent Field. The two-twenty-dash trials had been -run and the final in the low hurdles was just over. In the former -Perry, Kirke and Soper had all won places and in the latter Beaton and -Peyton had finished first and second and added eight more points to the -Clearfield score. The broad-jump and shot-put, too, were over and the -Blue had won first and third places in the former and first place in -the latter. Partridge had been a good second in the weight event and -Brimmer a poor third. In the broad-jump Toby Sears had captured three -points. Only the pole-vault, the two-twenty-dash and the hammer-throw -remained and the score stood: Clearfield, 36½; Springdale, 44½. - -A moment ago the result of the ball game at Springdale had come over -the wire and had been announced, and Clearfield was feeling somewhat -dejected. Springdale had won, 8 to 2. That and the dismal outlook here -at the field had caused the purple banners to droop on their staffs. -But there was one purple flag that still flaunted itself bravely in the -lengthening rays of sunlight. It hung from the railing of the stand on -the third base side of the field, a handsome pennant of royal purple -with a wreath of green laurel leaves on it enclosing the letters “C. H. -S.” Behind it sat Louise Brent and a bevy of her companions. The girls -were in a quandary. Already several Track Team heroes were tied in the -number of points gained by them and the task of awarding the pennant -promised to be an extremely difficult one. If Guy Felker won the -pole-vault, which was possible at the present stage, the matter would -be simplified, for he would then have ten points to his credit, two -more than anyone else. The girls discussed the difficulty and referred -again and again to the score that Louise was keeping, but without -finding a way out of the quandary. - -“There’s just one thing to do,” said Dick Lovering’s sister, Grace, -finally. “It was understood that the pennant was to go to the boy doing -the most for the school, wasn’t it?” - -The others assented doubtfully. “I suppose that was what was meant,” -said Louise, “but I thought we could give it to someone who had made -more points than anyone else and that it would be all quite simple. But -with three and maybe four fellows making eight――――” - -“That’s just it,” said Grace. “We can’t ask them to toss up for it or -draw lots, can we? So the best thing to do is to decide after it’s all -over which of them really did the best.” - -“But how can we decide that?” asked May Burnham. “How are we to know -which did the best?” - -“We can,” replied Grace convincedly. “Guy and the others will know if -we don’t.” - -“Guy will have ten points himself if he wins the pole-vault,” said -Louise. “That would make it very simple.” - -“I don’t believe he’s going to,” said another girl. “He’s just missed -that try, and I think that long-legged Springdale boy did it a minute -ago.” - -“Oh, dear, if he doesn’t!” exclaimed Louise hopelessly. “There, he’s -gone and missed it again! No, he hasn’t! He hasn’t! He went over! Oh, -_do_ you think that makes him win?” - -Evidently it didn’t, for while Guy was being congratulated by those -around the vaulting standard the bar was again raised and a boy with -a megaphone announced: “The bar is now at ten feet one and one-half -inches!” - -But interest was drawn from the prolonged struggle there to the -track. At the beginning of the straightaway they were gathering the -contestants in the final of the two-hundred-and-twenty-yards-dash, the -last of the track events. Clearfield and Springdale had each placed -three men in the trials. For Clearfield these were Perry Hull, Kirke -and Soper; for Springdale, Knight, Lawrence and Gedge. The trials -had been done in twenty-four and three-fifths and twenty-four and -four-fifths, rather slow time, but the final promised to show faster -performances. It was figured that if Captain Felker could win five -points in the pole-vault and the Purple’s sprinters could capture first -and second places in the two-twenty, Clearfield might after all squeeze -out a victory, for Partridge was counted on to have a very good chance -to get the best there was in the hammer-throw, which had been going -on for some time in the field across the way. But it was necessary to -get eight points in the sprint, as it was reckoned, and there were few -who dared hope for such a result. Kirke, it was generally conceded, -might possibly win first place, but there were two good runners in the -Springdale trio who would certainly make a showing. - -Perry drew the fourth lane, with Lawrence of Springdale on his left -and Orson Kirke on his right. Kirke looked grimly determined and -Perry was pretty sure that he meant to win. And, thought Perry, since -he had failed in the hundred he really deserved to. But Perry was not -yet conceding the race. He had made mistakes in his first race. He had -realized it afterwards. Now he meant to profit by what he had learned. -He wasn’t so frightened this time, either. He had been through the fire. - -The crowd about the start drew back to the turf and a whistle shrilled. -Down at the finish a handkerchief waved response. The six boys stopped -prancing and settled to their places. The starter stepped back. - -“On your marks!” - -Perry, settling his toes into the cinders, heard the click of the -pistol hammer as it was drawn back. There was a sudden silence. - -“Set!” - -An instant’s pause and then the pistol spoke sharply and the race was -on. Six lithe, white-clad forms launched themselves forward, twelve -arms beat the air and twelve legs twinkled. Three of the six had drawn -ahead in the first lunge, Perry and Kirke amongst them. Twenty yards -away the field was already strung out. Kirke, running terrifically, was -a yard to the good. Perry and Lawrence were next. Soper was a yard or -so behind them. But that order changed again in the next few seconds. -Perry was breasting Kirke then and Lawrence was almost even with them. -Soper was making bad going and falling back. The shouts of the crowd in -the stands and around the finish made a crashing bedlam of sound that -drowned completely the quick _scrunch-scrunch_ of the runners’ shoes -and their hoarse breathing. - -Now it was half-distance, and Perry saw the white figure at his right -fall back and felt rather than saw another form crawling up and up on -the other side near the rim. Lawrence held on, too, and fifty yards -from the finish Perry, Lawrence and Gedge were neck-and-neck, with -Kirke a single pace behind. Soper and Knight were already beaten. Then -Gedge forged ahead and the wild shouts of the Springdale contingent -took on new vigor. Cries of “_Clearfield! Clearfield!_” “_Springdale! -Springdale!_” filled the air. Dimly, Perry heard his own name over and -over. - -Now the slim white thread was rushing up the track toward him. He had -no sense of moving himself, although his lungs were aching and his arms -swung back and forth and his legs, suddenly weighted with lead, still -spurned the track. It was as though he, in spite of the painful efforts -he was making, was standing still and the finish line was racing -toward him! For a moment he wondered about Kirke, but for a moment -only. The tape was but twenty yards away now and it was time for the -last supreme endeavor. - -Gedge was two paces in front when Perry started his final rush. In ten -yards he was level. In five more he was back with Lawrence. Like a -white streak Perry breasted the string, his arms thrown up, his head -back, and after him came Gedge and Lawrence, Kirke, Knight and Soper. - -Once over the line, Perry staggered, recovered and then fell, rolling -limply across the cinders. A dozen eager boys rushed to his assistance -and he was lifted and borne to the turf where, a moment later, he found -his breath. - -“Kirke?” he whispered. - -“No,” was the answer. “They got second and third. You broke the dual -record, Hull; twenty-three and four-fifths!” - -Perry considered that an instant in silence. Then: “We lose the meet, -though, don’t we?” - -His informant nodded. “Suppose so. There’s still the hammer-throw, but -I guess we’re dished. It isn’t your fault, though. You ran a peach of a -race, Hull!” - -Perry climbed weakly to his feet, with assistance, and found that at -last he could take a long breath again. “I’m sorry about Kirke,” he -said rather vaguely. - -“Are you?” gasped a voice behind him. “So’m I, but glad you won, -Perry!” It was Kirke himself. Perry shook hands with him and then -others pushed around for the same purpose; Lawrence and Gedge of -Springdale, and Arthur Beaton and Toby Sears and several others, and, -finally, Skeet, Skeet with puzzled admiration written large on his thin -face. - -“I never knew you had it in you, Hull!” he declared, wringing Perry’s -hand. “Kid, you made a fine finish! I thought it was all over ten yards -from the tape, and then, bing!――you left him standing! But don’t stay -around here and get stiff. Beat it to the shower!” - -“Wait! What’s the score, please?” - -“Oh, they’re fifty-two and a half to our forty-six and a half. Cap got -first in the pole-vault, but Mander wasn’t placed. They’ve got the -meet, all right, but we made ’em fight for it!” - -“Fifty-two?” repeated Perry, puzzled. “But don’t they have to have more -than fifty-four to win?” - -“Yes, the hammer-throw isn’t finished yet. They’ll get three in that, -anyhow.” - -Perry looked around. The field was already emptying. “I’ll get my -dressing-gown, I guess,” he said. - -“All right, but don’t stand around too long,” said Skeet. “I’m going -over to see them finish the hammer. Better luck next year, Hull.” - -He nodded and joined the throng straggling through the gate. Perry -hurried back up the field and found his dressing-gown and then, -disregarding Skeet’s suggestion, he too followed the crowd to where, on -the lot behind the field, it had spread itself in a half-circle around -the group of hammer-throwers. Perry wedged himself through to where he -could see a little. - -“Hello,” said a voice at his elbow and he looked up into Lanny’s -smiling countenance. “You ran a great race, Perry. I wasn’t needed -to-day after all, was I?” He found Perry’s hand and clasped it warmly. -“Your time bettered the best I ever made in my life. Next year you’ll -have them standing on their heads, or I’m a Dutchman!” - -“Thanks,” murmured Perry. “I guess I wouldn’t have beaten you, Lanny, -if you’d been there. How――how is this coming out? Is there any chance -for us to get the meet?” - -“No, I think not. Partridge did a hundred and thirty-one and eight -inches, I believe, and no one’s come near him. But that big chap of -theirs will get second, I guess. Fudge Shaw is right after him, though. -There’s Springdale’s last try.” - -Perry, standing on tip-toe, saw the hammer go flying off, but couldn’t -see where it landed. - -“The worst he’s done yet,” exclaimed Lanny. “By Jove, I wonder――――” - -There was a sudden stir of excitement about them. “If Shaw can better -his last throw,” a voice nearby said, “we may have a chance yet. But -he’s got to beat a hundred and twenty-four and something!” - -“Is Fudge still in it?” asked Perry wonderingly. Lanny nodded. - -“Yes, he’s been doing well, too. So far he’s only six feet behind the -Springdale chap, I understand. I only got here about five minutes ago. -There’s Guy Felker over there with the pennant the girls gave him.” - -“Oh, did he win it? I’m glad of that. How many points did he make, -Lanny?” - -“Ten; first in the high-jump and pole-vault. Here goes Harry again.” - -Partridge walked into the circle, dragging his hammer, and the -measurer, far out across the field, scuttled for safety, the yellow -tape fluttering behind him. The crowd laughed and then grew silent. -Partridge spun and the weight went hurtling through the air. But the -result failed to equal his best throw. - -“Now comes Fudge,” whispered Lanny. “Gee, but I wish he might beat that -Springdale chap. If we could get second place out of this we’d have the -meet!” - -“Would we?” asked Perry, startled. “I thought――――” - -“Eight points would give us fifty-four and a half,” said Lanny, “and -that would be enough, wouldn’t it? Funny Falkland is out of it. I -thought he was almost as good as Harry.” - -Perry, dodging behind the heads and shoulders in front of him, -saw Fudge throwing off his dressing-gown and step, a rotund but -powerful-looking youth, into the ring. Applause greeted him. Fudge -glanced around and was seen to wink gravely at someone in the throng. -Then he placed the ball of the hammer at the back of the ring, closed -his fingers about the handle and raised his shoulders. Silence fell -once more and anxious faces watched as the hammer came off the ground -and began to swing, slowly at first and then faster and faster above -the whitewashed circle. Fudge’s feet sped around, shifting like a -dancer’s, until he was well toward the front of the ring. Then his -sturdy young body set suddenly, his hands opened and off shot the -flying weight, arching through the air, to come to earth at last far -across the sunlit field. - -The crowd broke and hurried to cluster about the ring, excited voices -speculating eagerly on the distance. Out where the hammer had plowed -into the sod the measurer was stooping with the tape. Then: - -“All right here!” he called. - -A breathless moment followed. Heads bent close above the official as he -tautened his end of the tape over the wooden rim. - -“One hundred,” announced the judge, “and ... twenty ... five feet -and....” - -But what the inches were Perry didn’t hear. A wild shout of rejoicing -arose from the friends of Clearfield. Fudge had won second place and -Clearfield had captured the meet! - -After that all was confusion and noise. Perry suddenly found himself -shaking hands laughingly with Mr. Addicks, although what the latter -said he couldn’t hear. Then his attention was attracted to a commotion -nearby as the crowd pushed and swayed. On the shoulders of excited, -triumphant schoolmates, Fudge, half in and half out of his crimson -robe, was being borne past. He espied Perry and waved to him, and -Perry forced his way through the throng just as Guy Felker reached up -and placed the purple pennant in Fudge’s hand. - -“W-w-w-what’s this?” stammered Fudge. - -“It’s yours, Fudge!” shouted Guy. “You’ve won the meet and you get the -pennant!” - -“B-b-but I d-d-didn’t w-w-win this, d-d-did I?” gasped Fudge. - -“You bet!” - -“W-w-well, but wh-wh-why?” - -“Because we needed three points to win the meet, you old idiot,” -laughed Guy, “and you got them for us!” - -“And,” supplemented a voice that sounded like Curtis Wayland’s, “for -numerous other reasons!” - -And Fudge, borne forward again, waving the purple pennant high in air, -had the grace to blush. - - - * * * * * - - - Transcriber’s Notes: - - ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). - - ――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to - follow the text that they illustrate. - - ――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 THE PURPLE PENNANT *** - -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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- margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - padding-bottom: .5em; - padding-top: .5em; - padding-left: .5em; - padding-right: .5em; -} - -.tntitle { - font-size: 1.25em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Title page borders and content. */ -.title { - font-size: 1.75em; - font-weight: bold; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.author { - font-size: 1.25em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -.works { - font-size: .75em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Advertisement formatting. */ -.adauthor { - font-size: 1.25em; - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -/* Hanging indent. */ -.hang { - text-indent: -2em; - padding-left: 3em; -} - - </style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Purple Pennant, by Ralph Henry Barbour</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Purple Pennant</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Ralph Henry Barbour</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Norman P. Rockwell</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: July 10, 2021 [eBook #65819]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PURPLE PENNANT ***</div> - - -<div class="figcenter" id="cover"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" title="cover" /> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="figcenter" id="i_frontis"> - <img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_317">“Like a white streak, Perry breasted the string”</a></p> - </div> -</div> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>THE<br /> -PURPLE PENNANT</h1> - -<p class="p2 noic">BY</p> - -<p class="noi author">RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p> - -<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF “THE SECRET PLAY,” “THE LUCKY SEVENTH,” ETC.</p> - -<div class="pad4"> -<div class="logocenter" id="logo"> - <img src="images/logo.jpg" alt="logo" title="logo" /> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="noi works">ILLUSTRATED BY</p> - -<p class="noic">NORMAN P. ROCKWELL</p> - -<p class="p2 noi adauthor">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -1916</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="noic smcap">Copyright, 1916, by</p> - -<p class="noic">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</p> - -<p class="p6 noic">Printed in the United States of America</p> -</div> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> -<col style="width: 20%;" /> -<col style="width: 70%;" /> -<col style="width: 10%;" /> -<tr> - <th class="pr smfontr">CHAPTER</th> - <th class="tdl"></th> - <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">I.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Fudge Is Interrupted</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">1</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">II.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">The Try-out</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">11</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">III.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">The Shadow on the Curtain</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">23</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">IV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">The Ode to Spring</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">38</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">V.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Perry Remembers</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">50</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">The False Mustache</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">61</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Fudge Revolts</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">74</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">VIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">Lanny Studies Steam Engineering</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">89</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">IX.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">The New Sign</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">99</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">X.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">The Borrowed Roller</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">110</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Gordon Deserts His Post</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">120</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">On Dick’s Porch</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">130</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Foiled!</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">142</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">The Game with Norrisville</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">152</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">The White Scar</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">166</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Sears Makes a Suggestion</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">179</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">The Squad at Work</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">190</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XVIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">The Officer at the Door</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">202</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XIX.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">The Train-robber Is Warned</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">213</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XX.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Mr. Addicks Explains</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">226</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">On the Track</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">240</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">The New Coach</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">258</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXIII.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Out at the Plate!</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">273</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXIV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Clearfield Concedes the Meet</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">290</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXV.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">Springdale Leads</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">300</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdrt">XXVI.</td> - <td class="tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">The Purple Pennant</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">311</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS">LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> -</div> - - -<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations"> -<col style="width: 90%;" /> -<col style="width: 10%;" /> -<tr> - <td class="tdl"><div class="noi hang"><a href="#i_frontis">“Like a white streak, Perry -breasted the string”</a></div></td> - <td class="tdrb"><i>Frontispiece</i></td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td> </td> - <td class="smfontr">FACING PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp018">“‘On your mark!... Set!... Go!’”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">18</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp220">“‘What’s that?’ asked Perry, startled”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">220</td> -</tr> -<tr> - <td class="tdl hang"><a href="#i_fp286">“Lanny, dropping to his knees on the plate, got -it a foot from the ground”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">286</td> -</tr> -</table> - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_1"></a>[1]</span></p> - -<p class="noi title">THE PURPLE PENNANT</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br /> -<small>FUDGE IS INTERRUPTED</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">“‘Keys,’” murmured Fudge Shaw dreamily, -“‘please’—‘knees’—‘breeze’—I’ve used that—‘pease’—‘sneeze’—Oh, -piffle!” His inspired -gaze returned to the tablet before him and he -read aloud the lines inscribed thereon:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“O Beauteous Spring, thou art, I ween,</div> - <div class="verse indent3">The best of all the Seasons,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Because you clothe the Earth with green</div> - <div class="verse indent3">And for numerous other reasons.</div> - </div> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“You make the birds sing in the trees,</div> - <div class="verse indent3">The April breeze to blow,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">The Sun to shine——”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“‘The Sun to shine——,’” he muttered raptly, -“‘The Sun to shine’; ‘squeeze’—‘tease’—‘fleas’—— -Gee, I wish I hadn’t tried to rhyme all the lines. -Now, let’s see: ‘You make the birds——’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_2"></a>[2]</span></p> - -<p>“O Fudge! Fudge Shaw!”</p> - -<p>Fudge raised his head and peered through the -young leaves of the apple-tree in which he was -perched, along the side yard to where, leaning over -the fence, was a lad of about Fudge’s age. The -visitor alternately directed his gaze toward the tree -and the house, for it was Sunday afternoon and -Perry Hull was doubtful of the propriety of hailing -his friend in week-day manner.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Perry, come on in!” called Fudge. And -thereupon he detached the “Ode to Spring” from -the tablet, hastily folded it and put it in his pocket. -When Perry climbed the ladder which led to the -platform some eight feet above the ground Fudge -was in the act of closing a Latin book with a tired -air.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing?” asked Perry. He was -a nice-looking chap of fifteen, with steady dark-brown -eyes, hair a shade or two lighter and a -capable and alert countenance. He swung himself -lithely over the rail instead of crawling under, as -was Fudge’s custom, and seated himself on the -narrow bench beyond the books.</p> - -<p>“Sort of studying,” answered Fudge, ostentatiously -shoving the books further away and scowling distastefully -at them. “Where have you been?”</p> - -<p>“Just moseying around. Peach of a day, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_3"></a>[3]</span></p> - -<p>It was. It had rained until nearly dinner time, -and grass and leaves were still beaded with moisture -which an ardent April sun was doing its best to burn -away. It was the first spring-like day in over a -week of typical April weather during which Clearfield -had remained under gray skies. Fudge assented -to Perry’s observation, but it was to be seen -that his thoughts were elsewhere. His lips moved -soundlessly. Perry viewed him with surprise and -curiosity, but before he could demand an explanation -of his host’s abstraction Fudge burst forth triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“‘B-b-bees!’” exclaimed Fudge. (Excitement always -caused him to stammer, a fact which his -friends were aware of and frequently made use of -for their entertainment.) Perry involuntarily -ducked his head and looked around.</p> - -<p>“Where?” he asked apprehensively.</p> - -<p>“Nowhere.” Fudge chuckled. “I was just thinking -of something.”</p> - -<p>“Huh!” Perry settled back again. “You’re -crazy, I guess. Better come for a walk and you’ll -feel better.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t.” Fudge looked gloomily at the books. -“Got to study.”</p> - -<p>“Then I’ll beat it.”</p> - -<p>“Hold on, can’t you? You don’t have to go yet.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_4"></a>[4]</span> -I—there isn’t such an awful hurry.” The truth -was that Fudge was not an enthusiastic pedestrian, -a fact due partly to his physical formation and partly -to a disposition contemplative rather than active. -Nature had endowed Fudge—his real name, by the -way, was William—with a rotund body and capable -but rather short legs. Walking for the mere sake -of locomotion didn’t appeal to him. He would -have denied indignantly that he was lazy, and, to -do him justice, he wasn’t. With Fudge it was less -a matter of laziness than discrimination. Give him -something to do that interested him—such as playing -baseball or football—and Fudge would willingly, -enthusiastically work his short legs for all that was -in them, but this thing of deliberately tiring oneself -out with no sensible end in view—well, Fudge -couldn’t see it! He had a round face from which -two big blue eyes viewed the world with a constant -expression of surprise. His hair was sandy-red, -and he was fifteen, almost sixteen, years old.</p> - -<p>“It’s too nice a day to sit around and do nothing,” -objected Perry. “Why don’t you get your studying -done earlier?”</p> - -<p>“I meant to, but I had some writing to do.” -Fudge looked important. Perry smiled slightly. “I -finished that story I told you about.”</p> - -<p>“Did you?” Perry strove to make his question<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_5"></a>[5]</span> -sound interested. “Are you going to have it -printed?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” replied the other carelessly. “It’s a pippin, -all right, Perry! It’s nearly fourteen thousand -words long! What do you know about that, son? -Maybe I’ll send it to the <cite>Reporter</cite> and let them publish -it. Or maybe I’ll send it to one of the big New -York magazines. I haven’t decided yet. Dick says -I ought to have it typewritten; that the editors won’t -read it unless it is. But it costs like anything. -Morris Brent has a typewriter and he said I could -borrow it, but I never wrote on one of the things and -I suppose it would take me a month to do it, eh? -Seems to me if the editors want good stories they -can’t afford to be so plaguey particular. Besides, -my writing’s pretty easy reading just as soon as you -get used to it.”</p> - -<p>“You might typewrite the first two or three -sheets,” suggested Perry, with a chuckle, “and then -perhaps the editor would be so anxious to know -how it ended he’d keep right on. What are you -going to call it, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>Fudge shook his head. “I’ve got two or three -good titles. ‘The Middleton Mystery’ is one of -them. Then there’s ‘Young Sleuth’s Greatest Case.’ -I guess that’s too long, eh?”</p> - -<p>“I like the first one better.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_6"></a>[6]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes. Then I thought of ‘Tracked by Anarchists.’ -How’s that sound to you?”</p> - -<p>“‘The Meredith Mystery’ is the best,” replied -Perry judicially.</p> - -<p>“‘Middleton,’” corrected Fudge. “Yep, I guess -it’ll be that. I told that fellow Potter about it and -he said if I’d let him take it he’d see about getting -it published in the <cite>Reporter</cite>. He’s a sort of an -editor, you know. But I guess the <cite>Reporter</cite> isn’t -much of a paper, and a writer who’s just starting out -has to be careful not to cheapen himself, you see.”</p> - -<p>“Will he pay you for it?” asked Perry.</p> - -<p>“He didn’t say. I don’t suppose so. Lots of -folks don’t get paid for their first things, though. -Look at—look at Scott; and—and Thackeray, and—lots -of ’em! You don’t suppose they got paid at -first, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t they?” asked Perry in some surprise.</p> - -<p>“Oh, maybe Thackeray got a few dollars,” hedged -Fudge, “but what was that? Look what he used -to get for his novels afterwards!”</p> - -<p>Perry obligingly appeared deeply impressed, although -he secretly wondered what Thackeray <em>did</em> -get afterwards. However, he forebore to ask, -which was just as well, I fancy. Instead, tiring of -Fudge’s literary affairs, he observed: “Well, I -hope they print it for you, anyway. And maybe<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_7"></a>[7]</span> -they’ll take another one and pay for that. Say, -aren’t you going out for baseball, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m going out, I guess, but it won’t do any -good. I don’t intend to sit around on the bench -half the spring and then get fired. The only place -I’d stand any chance of is the outfield, and I suppose -I don’t hit well enough to make it. You going -to try?”</p> - -<p>Perry shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I -can’t play much. Warner Jones told me the other -day that if I’d come out he’d give me a good chance. -I suppose he thinks I can play baseball because I -was on the Eleven.”</p> - -<p>“Well, gee, if you could get to first you’d steal all -the other bases, I’ll bet,” said Fudge admiringly. -“You sure can run, Perry!”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes, and that makes me think that maybe I -could do something on the Track Team. What do -you think, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Bully scheme! Go out for the sprints! Ever try -the hundred?”</p> - -<p>“No, I’ve never run on the track at all. How fast -ought I to run the hundred yards, Fudge, to have a -show?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, anything under eleven seconds would do, I -suppose. Maybe ten and four-fifths. Know what -you can do it in?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_8"></a>[8]</span></p> - -<p>“No, I never ran it. I’d like to try, though.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you? Say, I’ve got a stop-watch in -the house. You wait here and I’ll get it and we’ll go -over to the track and——”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw, I couldn’t run in these clothes!”</p> - -<p>“Well, you can take your coat and vest off, can’t -you? And put on a pair of sneakers? Of course, -you can’t run as fast, but you can show what you -can do. Perry, I’ll just bet you anything you’ve got -the making of a fine little sprinter! You wait here; -I won’t be a minute.”</p> - -<p>“But it’s Sunday, Fudge, and the field will be -locked, and—and you’ve got your lessons——”</p> - -<p>“They can wait,” replied Fudge, dropping to the -ground and making off toward the side door. -“We’ll try the two-twenty, too, Perry!”</p> - -<p>He disappeared and a door slammed. Perry -frowned in the direction of the house. “Silly -chump!” he muttered. Then he smiled. After all, -why not? He did want to know if he could run, -and, if they could get into the field, which wasn’t -likely, since it was Sunday and the gates would be -locked, it would be rather fun to try it! He wondered -just how fast ten and four-fifths seconds was. -He wished he hadn’t done so much walking since -dinner, for he was conscious that his legs were a bit -tired. At that moment in his reflections there came<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_9"></a>[9]</span> -a subdued whistle from the house and Fudge waved -to him.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” he called in a cautious whisper. “I’ve -got it. And the sneakers, too.” He glanced a trifle -apprehensively over his shoulder while he awaited -Perry’s arrival and when the latter had joined him -he led the way along the side path in a quiet and unostentatious -manner suggesting a desire to depart -unobserved. Once out of sight of the house, however, -his former enthusiasm returned. “We’ll climb -over the fence,” he announced. “I know a place -where it isn’t hard. Of course, we ought to have a -pistol to start with, but I guess it will do if I just -say ‘Go!’” He stopped indecisively. “Gordon has -a revolver,” he said thoughtfully. “We might borrow -it. Only, maybe he isn’t home. I haven’t seen -him all day.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, we don’t need it,” said Perry, pulling -him along. “He’d probably want to go along -with us, Fudge, and I don’t want any audience. I -dare say I won’t be able to run fast at all.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you mustn’t expect too much the first -time,” warned the other. “A chap’s got to be in -condition, you know. You’ll have to train and—and -all that. Ever do any hurdling?”</p> - -<p>“No, and I don’t think I could.”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t hard once you’ve caught the knack of it.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_10"></a>[10]</span> -I was only thinking that if you had plenty of steam -you might try sprints and hurdles both. All we’d -have to do would be to set the hurdles up. I know -where they’re kept. Then——”</p> - -<p>“Now, look here,” laughed Perry, “I’m willing to -make a fool of myself trying the hundred-yard dash, -Fudge, but I’m not going to keep you entertained all -the rest of the afternoon.”</p> - -<p>“All right, we’ll just try the hundred and the -two-twenty.”</p> - -<p>“No, we won’t either. We’ll just try the hundred. -Will those shoes fit me? And oughtn’t they to have -spikes?”</p> - -<p>“Sure, they ought, but they haven’t. We’ll have -to make allowance for that, I guess. And they’ll -have to fit you because they’re all we’ve got. I guess -you wear about the same size that I do. Here we -are! Now we’ll go around to the Louise Street -side; there’s a place there we can climb easily.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_11"></a>[11]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br /> -<small>THE TRY-OUT</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">The High School Athletic Field—it was officially -known as Brent Field—occupied two -whole blocks in the newer part of town. The -school had used it for a number of years, but only -last summer, through the generosity of Mr. Jonathan -Brent, Clearfield’s richest and most prominent citizen, -had it come into actual possession of the field. -The gift had been as welcome as unexpected and -had saved the school from the difficult task of finding -a new location for its athletic activities. But, unfortunately, -the possession of a large tract of ground -in the best residential part of the town was proving -to have its drawbacks. The taxes were fairly large, -repairs to stands and fences required a constant outlay, -the field itself, while level enough, was far from -smooth, and the cinder track, a make-shift affair at -the beginning, stood badly in need of reconstruction. -Add to these expenses the minor ones of water rent, -insurance on buildings and care-taking and you will<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_12"></a>[12]</span> -see that the Athletic Association had something to -think about.</p> - -<p>The town folks always spoke of it as “the town,” -although it was, as a matter of fact, a city and -boasted of over seventeen thousand inhabitants—supported -the High School athletic events, notably -football and baseball, generously enough, but it was -already evident to those in charge that the receipts -from gridiron and diamond attractions would barely -keep the field as it was and would not provide money -for improvements. There had been some talk of -an endowment fund from Mr. Brent, but whether -that gentleman had ever said anything to warrant -the rumor or whether it had been started by someone -more hopeful than veracious was a matter for -speculation. At any rate, no endowment fund had -so far materialized and the Athletic Committee’s -finances were at a low ebb. Two sections of grandstand -had been replaced in the fall, and that improvement -promised to be the last for some time, -unless, as seemed improbable, the Committee evolved -some plan whereby to replenish its treasury. Various -schemes had been suggested, such as a public canvass -of the town and school. To this, however, Mr. -Grayson, the Principal, had objected. It was not, -he declared, right to ask the citizens to contribute -funds for such a purpose. Nor would he allow a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_13"></a>[13]</span> -petition to the Board of Education. In fact, Mr. -Grayson as good as said that now that the school had -been generously presented with an athletic field it -was up to the school to look after it. Raising money -amongst the students he had no objection to, but -the amount obtainable in that manner was too small -to make it worth while. The plan of raising the -price of admission to baseball and football from -twenty-five cents to fifty was favored by some, while -others feared that it would keep so many away from -the contests that there would be no profit in it. In -short, the Committee was facing a difficult problem -and with no solution in sight. And the field, from -its patched, rickety, high board fence to grandstands -and dressing-rooms, loudly demanded succor. Fudge -voiced the general complaint when, having without -difficulty mounted the fence and dropped to the -soggy turf inside, followed more lithely by Perry -Hull, he viewed the cinder track with disfavor. The -recent rain had flooded it from side to side, and, -since it was lower than the ground about it and -had been put down with little or no provision for -drainage, inch-deep puddles still lingered in the numerous -depressions.</p> - -<p>“We can’t practice here,” said Perry.</p> - -<p>“Wouldn’t that agonize you?” demanded Fudge. -“Gee, what’s the good of having an athletic field<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_14"></a>[14]</span> -if you can’t keep it up? This thing is g-g-going to -be a regular w-w-white elephant!”</p> - -<p>“It looks pretty soppy, doesn’t it?” asked Perry. -“I guess we’d better wait until it’s drier. I don’t -mind running, but I wasn’t counting on having to -swim!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe it’s better on the straightaway,” responded -Fudge more cheerfully. “We’ll go over -and see.”</p> - -<p>As luck had it, it was drier on the far side of the -field, and Fudge advanced the plea that by keeping -close to the outer board Perry could get along without -splashing much. Perry, however, ruefully considered -his Sunday trousers and made objections.</p> - -<p>“But it isn’t mud,” urged Fudge. “It’s just a -little water. That won’t hurt your trousers a bit. -And you can reef them up some, too. Be a sport, -Perry! Gee, I’d do it in a minute if I could!”</p> - -<p>“Guess that’s about what I’ll do it in,” said the -other. “Well, all right. Here goes. Give me the -sneakers.”</p> - -<p>“Here they are. Guess we’d better go down to -the seats and change them, though. It’s too damp -to sit down here.”</p> - -<p>So they walked to the grandstand at the turn and -Perry pulled off his boots and tried the sneakers -on. They were a little too large, but he thought they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_15"></a>[15]</span> -would do. Fudge suggested stuffing some paper in -the toes, but as there was no paper handy that plan -was abandoned. Perry’s hat, coat and vest were -laid beside his boots and he turned up the bottoms of -his trousers. Then they walked along the track, -skirting puddles or jumping over them. Fortunately, -they had the field to themselves, thanks to locked -gates, something Perry was thankful for when -Fudge, discouraging his desire to have the event -over with at once, insisted that he should prance up -and down the track and warm up.</p> - -<p>“You can’t run decently until you’ve got your -legs warm and your muscles limber,” declared -Fudge wisely. “And you’d better try a few starts, -too.”</p> - -<p>So, protestingly, Perry danced around where -he could find a dry stretch, lifting his knees high -in the manner illustrated by Fudge, and then allowed -the latter to show him how to crouch for the -start.</p> - -<p>“Put your right foot up to the line,” instructed -Fudge. “Here, I’ll scratch a line across for you. -There. Now put your foot up to that—your <em>right</em> -foot, silly! That’s your left! Now put your left -knee alongside it and your hands down. That’s it, -only you want to dig a bit of a hole back there for -your left foot, so you’ll get away quick. Just scrape<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_16"></a>[16]</span> -out the cinders a little. All right. Now when I -say ‘Set,’ you come up and lean forward until the -weight comes on your front foot and hands; most -on your foot; your hands are just to steady yourself -with. That’s the trick. Now then; ‘On your -mark!’ Wait! I didn’t say ‘Set!’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, cut out the trimmings,” grumbled -Perry. “I can’t stay like this forever. Besides, I’d -rather start on the other foot, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“All right; some fellows do,” replied Fudge, untroubled, -neglecting to explain that he had made -a mistake. Perry made the change and expressed -his satisfaction.</p> - -<p>“That’s more like it. Say, how do you happen to -know so much about it, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Observation, son. Now, all right? Ready to -try it? Set!... Go!”</p> - -<p>Perry went, but he stumbled for the first three or -four steps and lost his stride completely.</p> - -<p>“You had your weight on your hands instead of -your feet,” commented the instructor. “Try it -again.”</p> - -<p>He tried it many times, at last becoming quite -interested in the problem of getting away quickly and -steadily, and finally Fudge declared himself satisfied. -“Now I’ll stand back here a ways where I can start -you and at the same time see when you cross the line<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_17"></a>[17]</span> -down there. Of course, we ought to have another -fellow here to help, but I guess I can manage all -right.” He set his stop-watch, composed his features -into a stern frown and retired some twenty -yards back from the track and half that distance -nearer the finish line. “On your mark!” called -Fudge. “Set!... Go!”</p> - -<p>Perry sped from the mark only to hear Fudge’s -arresting voice. “Sorry, Perry, but I forgot to -start the watch that time. Try it again.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a fine trick! I had a bully getaway,” -complained the sprinter. “Make it good this time, -Fudge; I’m getting dog-tired!”</p> - -<p>“I will. Now, then! <a href="#i_fp018">On your mark!... Set!... -Go!</a>”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp018"> - <img src="images/i_fp018.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_17">“‘On your mark!... Set!... Go!’”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>Off leaped Perry again, not quite so nicely this -time, and down the wet path he sped, splashing -through the puddles, head back, legs twinkling. -And, as though trying to make pace for him, Fudge -raced along on the turf in a valiant endeavor to -judge the finish. Perry’s Sunday trousers made a -gray streak across the line, Fudge pressed convulsively -on the stem of the watch and the trial -was over!</p> - -<p>“Wh-what was it?” inquired Perry breathlessly -as he walked back. Fudge was staring puzzledly at -the dial.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_18"></a>[18]</span></p> - -<p>“I made it twelve seconds,” he responded dubiously.</p> - -<p>“Twelve! And you said I’d ought to do it under -eleven!” Perry viewed him discouragedly.</p> - -<p>“Well, maybe I didn’t snap it just when I should -have,” said the timer. “It’s hard to see unless you’re -right at the line.”</p> - -<p>“You must have! I’ll bet anything I did it better -than twelve. Don’t you think I did?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it looked to me as if you were going pretty -fast,” answered Fudge cautiously. “But those trousers, -and not having any spikes, and the track being -so wet—Gee, but you did get splashed, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I should say so,” replied Perry, observing his -trousers disgustedly. “The water even went into -my face! Say, let’s try it again, Fudge, and you -stand here at the finish.”</p> - -<p>“All right, but how’ll I start you?”</p> - -<p>“Wave a handkerchief or something?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it. I’ll clap a couple of sticks together.” -So Fudge set out to find his sticks while Perry, -rather winded, seated himself on the stand. Fudge -finally came back with the required articles and -Perry declared himself rested and ready for another -trial. “I’ll clap the sticks together first for you -to get set and then for the start. Like this.” Fudge -illustrated. “Suppose you can hear it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_19"></a>[19]</span></p> - -<p>“Sure.” Perry proceeded back to the beginning -of the straightaway and Fudge stationed himself at -the finish, scuffling a line across the track for his -better guidance. Then, while the sprinter was getting -his crouch, he experimented with slapping the -sticks and snapping the watch at the same instant, -a rather difficult proceeding.</p> - -<p>“All ready!” shouted Perry, poised on finger-tips -and knee.</p> - -<p>“All right!” called Fudge in response. He examined -his watch, fixed a finger over the stem, took -a deep breath and clapped the sticks. Perry set. -Another clap and a simultaneous jab at the watch, -and Perry was racing down the track. Fudge’s eyes -took one fleeting look at the runner and then fixed -themselves strainedly on the line he had drawn -across the cinders. Nearer and nearer came the -<em>scrunch</em> of the flying sneakers, there was a sudden -blur of gray in Fudge’s vision and he snapped -the watch. Perry turned and trotted anxiously -back.</p> - -<p>“Well?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“Better,” replied Fudge. “Of course, the track’s -awfully slow——”</p> - -<p>“How much? Let’s see?”</p> - -<p>Fudge yielded the watch and Perry examined it. -“Eleven and two-fifths!” he shouted protestingly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_20"></a>[20]</span> -“Say, this thing’s crazy! I know mighty well I -didn’t run nearly so fast as I did the first time!”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t snap it soon enough the other time,” -explained Fudge. “Honest, Perry, eleven and two-fifths -isn’t half bad. Why, look at the slow track -and your long trousers——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and they weigh a ton, they’re so wet,” -grumbled Perry. “And so do these shoes. I’m -going to try it some time when the track’s dry -and I’ve got regular running things on. I suppose -eleven and two-fifths <em>isn’t</em> terribly bad, considering!”</p> - -<p>“Bad! It’s mighty good,” said Fudge warmly. -“Why, look here, Perry, if you can do it in that -time to-day you can do it nearly a second faster on -a dry track and—and all! You see if you can’t. -I’ll bet you you’ll be a regular sprinter by the time -we meet Springdale!”</p> - -<p>“Honest, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Honest to goodness! To-morrow you put your -name down for the Track Team and get yourself -some running things. I’ll go along with you if -you like. I know just what you ought to have.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t suppose I’ll really have any show for -the team,” said Perry modestly. “But it’ll be pretty -good fun. Say, Fudge, I didn’t know I could run -as fast as I did that first time. It seemed to me I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_21"></a>[21]</span> -was going like the very dickens! It—it’s mighty -interesting, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” replied Fudge, as Perry donned his things. -“You don’t want to try the two-twenty or the hurdles, -do you?”</p> - -<p>“I should say not! I’m tuckered out. I’m going -to try the two-twenty some day, though. I don’t -think I’d care about hurdling.”</p> - -<p>“You can’t tell,” murmured Fudge thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>Later, when they had once more surmounted the -fence and were heading toward B Street, Fudge, -who had said little for many minutes, observed: -“I wonder, Perry, if a fellow wouldn’t have more -fun with the Track Team than with the Nine. I’ve -a good mind to go in for it.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you?” asked Perry, encouragingly -eager. “What would you try? Running or—or -what?” His gaze unconsciously strayed over his -friend’s rotund figure.</p> - -<p>“N-no,” replied Fudge hesitantly. “I don’t think -so. I might go in for the mile, maybe. I don’t -know yet. I’m just thinking of it. I’d have to -study a bit. Perhaps the weights would be my -line. Ever put the shot?” Perry shook his head. -“Neither have I, but I’ll bet I could. All it takes is -practice. Say, wouldn’t it be funny if you and I -both made the team?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_22"></a>[22]</span></p> - -<p>“It would be dandy,” declared Perry. “Do you -suppose there’d be any chance of it?”</p> - -<p>“Why not?” asked Fudge cheerfully.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_23"></a>[23]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br /> -<small>THE SHADOW ON THE CURTAIN</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">The two boys parted at Main and B Streets, -Fudge to loiter thoughtfully southward under -the budding maples and Perry to continue -briskly on along the wider thoroughfare to where, -almost at the corner of G Street, a small yellow -house stood in a diminutive yard behind a decaying -picket fence. Over the gate, which had stood open -ever since Perry had grown too old to enjoy swinging -on it, was a square lantern supported on an iron -arch. At night a dim light burned in it, calling the -passer’s attention to the lettering on the front:</p> - -<p class="noic smcap">No. 7—Dr. Hull—Office.</p> - -<p>Beside the front door a second sign proclaimed -the house to be the abode of Matthew P. Hull, M. D.</p> - -<p>Nearby was an old-fashioned bell-pull and, just -below it, a more modern button. Above the latter -were the words “Night Bell.” The house looked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_24"></a>[24]</span> -homelike and scrupulously clean, but evidences of -disrepair were abundant. The bases of the four -round pillars supporting the roof of the porch which -ran across the front were rotting, the steps creaked -ominously under Perry’s feet and the faded yellow -paint was blistered and cracked.</p> - -<p>Dr. Hull only rented the house, and the owner, -since the retail business district had almost surrounded -it and he expected to soon sell, was extremely -chary of repairs. Perry’s father had lived -there so long that he hated the thought of moving. -He had grown very fond of the place, a fondness -shared to a lesser extent by Mrs. Hull and scarcely -at all by Perry. But Dr. Hull’s motives in remaining -there were not wholly sentimental. He had -slowly and arduously accumulated a fair practice -and, now that the town was over-supplied with physicians, -he feared that a change of location would -lose him his clients. Dr. Hull was not an old man, -but he was forty-odd and rather of the old-style, and -shook his head over the pushing methods of the -newcomers. Perry assured him that it would be a -good thing if he did lose some of his present practice, -since half of it brought him little or no money, -and that in a better location he could secure a better -class of patients. But Perry wasn’t very certain -of this, while his mother, who sighed secretly for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_25"></a>[25]</span> -a home where the plaster didn’t crumble nor the -floors creak, had even less faith in the Doctor’s ability -to begin over again.</p> - -<p>Perry glanced through the open door of the tiny -waiting room on the left as he hung up his cap and, -finding it empty and the further door ajar, knew -that his father was out. He went on up the stairs, -which complained at almost every footfall, and stole -noiselessly down the narrow hall to his own room. -His mother’s door was closed and this was the hour -when, on Sundays, she enjoyed what she termed -“forty winks.” Perry’s room was small and lighted -by three narrow windows set close together. While -they admitted light they afforded but little view, for -beyond the shallow back-yard loomed the side wall -of a five-storied brick building which fronted on G -Street. Directly on a level with Perry’s windows -was Curry’s Glove factory, occupying the second -floor of the building. Below was a bakery. Above -were offices; a dentist’s, a lawyer’s, and several -that were empty or changed tenants so frequently -that Perry couldn’t keep track of them. In winter -the light that came through the three windows -was faint and brief, but at other seasons -the sunlight managed somehow to find its way -there. This afternoon a golden ray still lingered -on the table, falling athwart the strapped pile of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_26"></a>[26]</span> -school books and spilling over to the stained green -felt.</p> - -<p>Perry seated himself at the table, put an elbow -beside the pile of books and, cupping chin in hand, -gazed thoughtfully down into the yard. There was -a lean and struggling lilac bush against one high -fence and its green leaves were already unfolding. -That, reflected the boy, meant that spring was really -here again at last. It was already nearly the middle -of April. Then came May and June, and then the -end of school. He sighed contentedly at the thought. -Not that he didn’t get as much pleasure out of school -as most fellows, but there comes a time, when buds -are swelling and robins are hopping and breezes -blow warmly, when the idea of spending six hours -of the finest part of the day indoors becomes extremely -distasteful. And that time had arrived.</p> - -<p>Perry turned to glance with sudden hostility at -the piled-up books. What good did it do a fellow, -anyway, to learn a lot of Latin and algebra and -physics and—and all the rest of the stuff? If he -only knew what he was going to be when he grew -up it might save a lot of useless trouble! Until a -year ago he had intended to follow in his father’s -footsteps, but of late the profession of medicine had -failed to hold his enthusiasm. It seemed to him -that doctors had to work very hard and long for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_27"></a>[27]</span> -terribly scant returns in the way of either money -or fame. No, he wouldn’t be a doctor. Lawyers -had a far better time of it; so did bankers and—and -almost everyone. Sometimes he thought that -engineering was the profession for him. He would -go to Boston or New York and enter a technical -school and learn civil or mining engineering. Mining -engineers especially had a fine, adventurous life -of it. And he wouldn’t have to spend all the rest -of his life in Clearfield then.</p> - -<p>Clearfield was all right, of course; Perry had been -born in it and was loyal to it; but there was a whole -big lot of the world that he’d like to see! He got -up and pulled an atlas from the lower shelf of his -book-case and spread it open. Colorado! Arizona! -Nevada! Those were names for you! And look -at all the territory out there that didn’t have a mark -on it! Prairies and deserts and plateaus! Miles -and miles and miles of them without a town or a -railroad or anything! Gee, it would be great to live -in that part of the world, he told himself. Adventures -would be thick as blueberries out there. Back -here nothing ever happened to a fellow. He wondered -if it would be possible to persuade his father -to move West, to some one of those fascinating -towns with the highly romantic names; like Manzanola -or Cotopaxi or Painted Rock. His thoughts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_28"></a>[28]</span> -were far afield now and, while his gaze was fixed -on the lilac bush below, his eyes saw wonderful -scenes that were very, very foreign to Clearfield. -The sunlight stole away from the windows and the -shadows gathered in the little yard. The room -grew dark.</p> - -<p>Just how long Perry would have sat there and -dreamed of far-spread prairies and dawn-flushed -deserts and awesome cañons had not an interruption -occurred, there’s no saying. Probably, though, -until his mother summoned him to the Sunday night -supper. And that, since it was a frugal repast of -cold dishes and awaited the Doctor’s presence, might -not have been announced until seven o’clock. What -did rouse him from his dreaming was the sudden appearance -of a light in one of the third floor windows -of the brick building. It shone for a moment only, -for a hand almost immediately pulled down a shade, -but its rays were bright enough to interrupt the boy’s -visions and bring his thoughts confusedly back.</p> - -<p>When you’ve been picturing yourself a cowboy -on the Western plains, a cowboy with a picturesque -broad-brimmed sombrero, leather chaps, a flannel -shirt and a handkerchief knotted about your neck, -it is naturally a bit surprising to suddenly see just -such a vision before your eyes. And that’s what -happened to Perry. No sooner was the shade drawn<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_29"></a>[29]</span> -at the opposite window than upon it appeared the -silhouette of as cowboyish a cowboy as ever rode -through sage-brush! Evidently the light was in the -center of the room and the occupant was standing -between light and window, standing so that for a -brief moment his figure was thrown in sharp relief -against the shade, and Perry, staring unbelievingly, -saw the black shadow of a broad felt hat whose -crown was dented to a pyramid shape, a face with -clean-cut features and a generous mustache and, -behind the neck, the knot of a handkerchief! Doubtless -the flannel shirt was there, too, and, perhaps, -the leather cuffs properly decorated with porcupine -quills, but Perry couldn’t be sure of this, for before -he had time to look below the knotted bandana the -silhouette wavered, lengthened oddly and faded from -sight, leaving Perry for an instant doubtful of his -vision!</p> - -<p>“Now what do you know about that?” he murmured. -“A regular cowboy, by ginger! What’s he -doing over there, I wonder. And here I was thinking -about him! Anyway, about cowboys! Gee, -that’s certainly funny! I wish I could have seen -if he wore a revolver on his hip! Maybe he’ll come -back.”</p> - -<p>But he didn’t show himself again, although Perry -sat on in the darkness of his little room for the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_30"></a>[30]</span> -better part of a half-hour, staring eagerly and fascinatedly -at the lighted window across the twilight. -The shade still made a yellowish oblong in the surrounding -gloom of the otherwise blank wall when -his mother’s voice came to him from below summoning -him to supper and he left his vigil unwillingly -and went downstairs.</p> - -<p>Dr. Hull had returned and supper was waiting on -the red cloth that always adorned the table on Sunday -nights. Perry was so full of his strange coincidence -that he hardly waited for the Doctor to finish -saying grace before he told about the vision. Rather -to his disappointment, neither his father nor mother -showed much interest, but perhaps that was because -he neglected to tell them that he had been thinking -of cowboys at the time. There was no special -reason why he should have told them other -than that he suspected his mother of a lack -of sympathy on the subject of cowboys and the -Wild West.</p> - -<p>“I guess,” said the Doctor, helping to the cold -roast lamb and having quite an exciting chase along -the back of the platter in pursuit of a runaway sprig -of parsley, “I guess your cowboy would have looked -like most anyone else if you’d had a look at him. -Shadows play queer tricks, Perry.”</p> - -<p>Dr. Hull was tall and thin, and he stooped quite<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_31"></a>[31]</span> -perceptibly. Perhaps the stoop came from carrying -his black bag about day after day, for the Doctor -had never attained to the dignity of a carriage. -When he had to have one he hired it from Stewart, -the liveryman. He had a kindly face, but he usually -looked tired and had a disconcerting habit of -dropping off to sleep in the middle of a conversation -or, not infrequently, half-way through a meal. -Perry was not unlike his father as to features. He -had the same rather short and very straight nose -and the same nice mouth, but he had obtained his -brown eyes from his mother. Dr. Hull’s eyes were -pale blue-gray and he had a fashion of keeping them -only a little more than half open, which added to his -appearance of weariness. He always dressed in a -suit of dark clothes which looked black without -actually being black. For years he had had his suits -made for him by the same unstylish little tailor -who dwelt, like a spider in a hole, under the Union -Restaurant on Common Street. Whether the suits, -one of which was made every spring, all came off -the same bolt of cloth, I can’t say, but it’s a fact -that Mrs. Hull had to study long to make out which -was this year’s suit and which last’s. On Sunday -evenings, however, the Doctor donned a faded and -dearly-loved house-jacket of black velveteen with -frayed silk frogs, for on Sunday evenings he kept<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_32"></a>[32]</span> -no consultation hours and made no calls if he could -possibly help it.</p> - -<p>In spite of Perry’s efforts, the cowboy was soon -abandoned as a subject for conversation. The Doctor -was satisfied that Perry had imagined the likeness -and Mrs. Hull couldn’t see why a cowboy hadn’t -as much right in the neighboring building as anyone. -Perry’s explanations failed to convince her of the -incongruity of a cowboy in Clearfield, for she replied -mildly that she quite distinctly remembered -having seen at least a half-dozen cowboys going -along Main Street a year or two before, the time -the circus was in town!</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” chuckled the Doctor, “this cowboy got -left behind then!”</p> - -<p>Perry refused to accept the explanation, and as -soon as supper was over he hurried upstairs again. -But the light across the back-yard was out and he -returned disappointedly to the sitting-room, convinced -that the mystery would never be explained. -His father had settled himself in the green rep easy -chair, with his feet on a foot-rest, and was smoking -his big meerschaum pipe that had a bowl shaped like -a skull. The Doctor had had that pipe since his -student days, and Perry suspected that, next to his -mother and himself, it was the most prized of the -Doctor’s possessions. The Sunday papers lay spread<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_33"></a>[33]</span> -across his knees, but he wasn’t reading, and Perry -seized on the opportunity presented to broach the -matter of going in for the Track Team. There had -been some difficulty in the fall in persuading his -parents to consent to his participation in football, -and he wasn’t sure that they would look any more -kindly on other athletic endeavors. His mother was -still busy in the kitchen, for he could hear the dishes -rattling, and he was glad of it; it was his mother who -looked with most disfavor on such things.</p> - -<p>“Dad, I’m going to join the Track Team and try -sprinting,” announced Perry carelessly.</p> - -<p>The Doctor brought his thoughts back with a visible -effort.</p> - -<p>“Eh?” he asked. “Join what?”</p> - -<p>“The Track Team, sir. At school. I think I can -sprint a little and I’d like to try it. Maybe I won’t -be good enough, but Fudge Shaw says I am, -and——”</p> - -<p>“Sprinting, eh?” The Doctor removed his pipe -and rubbed the bowl carefully with the purple silk -handkerchief that reposed in an inner pocket of his -house-jacket. “Think you’re strong enough for -that, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, sir! I tried it to-day and didn’t have -any trouble. And the track was awfully wet, -too.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_34"></a>[34]</span></p> - -<p>“To-day?” The Doctor’s brows went up. “Sunday?”</p> - -<p>Perry hastened to explain and was cheered by a -slight smile which hovered under his father’s drooping -mustache when he pictured Fudge trying to -be at both ends of the hundred-yards at once. “You -see, dad, I can’t play baseball well enough, and I’d -like to do something. I ought to anyway, just to -keep in training for football next autumn. I -wouldn’t wonder if I got to be regular quarter-back -next season.”</p> - -<p>“Sprinting,” observed the Doctor, tucking his -handkerchief out of sight again, “makes big demands -on the heart muscles, Perry. I’ve no reason for supposing -that your heart isn’t as strong as the average, -but I recall in my college days a case where a boy -over-worked himself in a race, the quarter-mile, I -think it was, and never was good for much afterwards. -He was in my class, and his name was—dear, -dear, now what was it? Well, it doesn’t matter. -Anyway, that’s what you’ll have to guard -against, Perry.”</p> - -<p>“But if I began mighty easy, the way you do, and -worked up to it, sir——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I dare say it won’t hurt you. Exercise in -moderation is always beneficial. It’s putting sudden -demands on yourself that does the damage. With<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_35"></a>[35]</span> -proper training, going at it slowly, day by day, you -know—well, we’ll see what your mother says.”</p> - -<p>Perry frowned and moved impatiently on the -couch. “Yes, sir, but you know mother always finds -objections to my doing things like that. You’d think -I was a regular invalid! Other fellows run and -jump and play football and their folks don’t think -anything of it. But mother——”</p> - -<p>“Come, come, Perry! That’ll do, son. Your -mother is naturally anxious about you. You see, -there’s only one of you, and we—well, we don’t want -any harm to come to you.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” said Perry, more meekly. “Only I -thought if you’d say it was all right, before she -comes in——”</p> - -<p>The Doctor chuckled. “Oh, that’s your little -game, is it? No, no, we’ll talk it over with your -mother. She’s sensible, Perry, and I dare say she -won’t make any objections; that is, if you promise -to be careful.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir. Why, there’s a regular trainer, you -know, and the fellows have to do just as he tells -them to.”</p> - -<p>“Who is the trainer?”</p> - -<p>“‘Skeet’ Presser, sir. He’s——”</p> - -<p>“Skeet?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what they call him. He’s small and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_36"></a>[36]</span> -skinny, sort of like a mosquito. I guess that’s why. -I don’t know what his real name is. He used to be -a runner; a jim-dandy, too, they say. He’s trainer -at the Y. M. C. A. I guess he’s considered pretty -good. And very careful, sir.” Perry added that as -a happy afterthought.</p> - -<p>The Doctor smiled. “I guess we ought to make -a diplomat out of you, son, instead of a doctor.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think I’ll be a doctor, dad.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t? I thought you did.”</p> - -<p>“I used to, but I—I’ve sort of changed my mind.”</p> - -<p>“Diplomats do that, too, I believe. Well, I dare -say you’re right about it. It doesn’t look as if I’d -have much of a practice to hand over to you, anyway. -It’s getting so nowadays about every second -case is a charity case. About all you get is gratitude, -and not always that. Here’s your mother now. -Mother, this boy wants to go in for athletics, he tells -me. Wants to run races and capture silver mugs. -Or maybe they’re pewter. What do you say to it?”</p> - -<p>“Gracious, what for?” ejaculated Mrs. Hull.</p> - -<p>Perry stated his case again while his mother took -the green tobacco jar from the mantel and placed -it within the Doctor’s reach, plumped up a pillow -on the couch, picked a thread from the worn red -carpet and finally, with a little sigh, seated herself -in the small walnut rocker that was her especial<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_37"></a>[37]</span> -property. When Perry had finished, his mother -looked across at the Doctor.</p> - -<p>“What does your father think?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I think it won’t do him any harm,” was the -reply from the Doctor. “Might be good for him, -in fact. I tell him he must be careful not to attempt -too much at first, that’s all. Running is good exercise -if it isn’t overdone.”</p> - -<p>“Well, it seems to me,” observed Mrs. Hull, “that -if he can play football and not get maimed for life, -a little running can’t hurt him. How far would it -be, Perry?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, only about from here to the corner and -back.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t see much sense in it, but if you -want to do it I haven’t any objection. It doesn’t -seem as if much could happen to you just running -to G Street and back!”</p> - -<p>The Doctor chuckled. “It might be good practice -when it comes to running errands, mother. Maybe -he’ll be able to get to the grocery and back the same -afternoon!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” laughed Perry, “you see, dad, when -you’re running on the track you don’t meet fellows -who want you to stop and play marbles with them!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_38"></a>[38]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br /> -<small>THE ODE TO SPRING</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">With the advent of that first warm spring-like -weather the High School athletic activities -began in earnest. During March -the baseball candidates had practiced to some extent -indoors and occasionally on the field, but not a great -deal had been accomplished. The “cage” in the basement -of the school building was neither large nor -light, while cold weather, with rain and wet ground, -had made outdoor work far from satisfactory. Of -the Baseball Team, Clearfield had high hopes this -spring. There was a wealth of material left from -the successful Nine of the previous spring, including -two first-class pitchers, while the captain, Warner -Jones, was a good leader as well as a brainy player. -Then too, and in the judgment of the school this -promised undoubted success, the coaching had been -placed in the hands of Dick Lovering. Dick had -proven his ability as a baseball coach the summer -before and had subsequently piloted the football<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_39"></a>[39]</span> -team to victory in the fall, thus winning an admiration -and gratitude almost embarrassing to him.</p> - -<p>Dick, who had to swing about on crutches where -other fellows went on two good legs, came out of -school Monday afternoon in company with Lansing -White and crossed over to Linden Street where a -small blue runabout car stood at the curb. Dick was -tall, with dark hair and eyes. Without being especially -handsome, his rather lean face was attractive -and he had a smile that won friends on the instant. -Dick was seventeen and a senior. Lansing, or -Lanny, White was a year younger, and a good deal -of a contrast to his companion. Lanny fairly radiated -health and strength and high spirits. You’re -not to conclude that Dick suggested ill-health or -that he was low-spirited, for that would be far from -the mark. There was possibly no more cheerful boy -in Clearfield than Richard Lovering, in spite of his -infirmity. But Lanny, with his flaxen hair and dark -eyes—a combination as odd as it was attractive—and -his sun-browned skin and his slimly muscular -figure, looked the athlete he was, every inch of him. -Lanny was a “three-letter man” at the High School; -had captained the football team, caught on the nine -and was a sprinter of ability. And, which was no -small attainment, he possessed more friends than -any other fellow in school. Lanny couldn’t help<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_40"></a>[40]</span> -making friends; he appeared to do it without conscious -effort; there had never been on his part any -seeking for popularity.</p> - -<p>Lanny cranked the car and seated himself beside -Dick. Fully half the students were journeying toward -the field, either to take part in practice or to -watch it, and the two boys in the runabout answered -many hails until they had distanced the pedestrians.</p> - -<p>“This,” said Lanny, as they circumspectly crossed -the car-tracks and turned into Main Street, “is just -the sort of weather the doctor ordered. If it keeps -up we’ll really get started.”</p> - -<p>“This is April, though,” replied Dick, “and everyone -knows April!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll have more showers, but once the field -gets dried out decently they don’t matter. I suppose -it’ll be pretty squishy out there to-day. What -we ought to do, Dick, is have the whole field rolled -right now while it’s still soft. It’s awfully rough in -right field, and even the infield isn’t what you’d call -a billiard table.”</p> - -<p>“Wish we could, Lanny. But I guess if we get -the base paths fixed up we’ll get all that’s coming -to us this spring. Too bad we haven’t a little money -on hand.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know we can’t look to the Athletic Association -for much. I was only wondering if we<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_41"></a>[41]</span> -couldn’t get it done somehow ourselves. If we knew -someone who had a steam roller we might borrow -it!”</p> - -<p>“The town has a couple,” laughed Dick, “but I’m -afraid they wouldn’t loan them.”</p> - -<p>“Why not? Say, that’s an idea, Dick! Who -do you borrow town property from, anyway? The -Mayor?”</p> - -<p>“Street Department, I guess. Tell Way to go and -see them, why don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Way” was Curtis Wayland, manager of the -baseball team. Lanny smiled. “Joking aside,” he -said, “they might do it, mightn’t they? Don’t they -ever loan things?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe, but you’d have to have the engineer or -chauffeur or whatever they call him to run it for you, -and that would be a difficulty.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw, anyone could run a steam roller! You -could, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t you see me?” chuckled Dick. “Suppose, -though, I got nabbed for exceeding the speed limit? -I guess, Lanny, if that field gets rolled this spring -it will be done by old-fashioned man-power. We -might borrow a roller somewhere and get a lot -of the fellows out and have them take turns pushing -it.”</p> - -<p>“It would take a week of Sundays,” replied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_42"></a>[42]</span> -Lanny discouragingly. “You wait. I’m not finished -with that other scheme yet.”</p> - -<p>“Borrowing a roller from the town, you mean? -Well, I’ve no objection, but don’t ask me to run it. -I’d be sure to put it through the fence or something; -and goodness knows we need all the fence we’ve -got!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’ll be a miracle if it doesn’t fall down if -anyone hits a ball against it!”</p> - -<p>“If it happens in the Springdale game you’ll -hear no complaint from me,” said Dick, adding -hurriedly, “That is, if it’s one of our team who -does it!”</p> - -<p>“Ever think of putting a sign on the fence in -center field?” asked Lanny. “‘Hit This Sign and -Get Ten Dollars,’ or something of that sort, you -know. It might increase the team’s average a lot, -Dick.”</p> - -<p>“You’re full of schemes to-day, aren’t you? Does -that fence look to you as if it would stand being -hit very often?” They had turned into A Street -and the block-long expanse of sagging ten-foot fence -stretched beside them. “I’ve about concluded that -being presented with an athletic field is like getting -a white elephant in your stocking at Christmas!”</p> - -<p>“Gee, this field is two white elephants and a pink -hippopotamus,” replied Lanny as he jumped out in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_43"></a>[43]</span> -front of the players’ gate. Dick turned off the -engine and thoughtfully removed the plug from the -dash coil, thus foiling youngsters with experimental -desires. His crutches were beside him on the running-board, -and, lifting them from the wire clips -that held them there, he deftly swung himself from -the car and passed through the gate. They were the -first ones to arrive, but before they had returned -to the dressing-room under the nearer grandstand -after a pessimistic examination of the playing field, -others had begun to dribble in and a handful of -youths were arranging themselves comfortably on -the seats behind first base. But if the audience -expected anything of a spectacular nature this afternoon -they were disappointed, for the practice was of -the most elementary character.</p> - -<p>There was a half-hour at the net with Tom Nostrand -and Tom Haley pitching straight balls to the -batters and then another half-hour of fielding, Bert -Cable, last year’s captain and now a sort of self-appointed -assistant coach, hitting fungoes to outfielders, -and Curtis Wayland, manager of the team, -batting to the infield. The forty or fifty onlookers -in the stands soon lost interest when it was evident -that Coach Lovering had no intention of staging any -sort of a contest, and by ones and twos they took -their departure. Even had they all gone, however,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_44"></a>[44]</span> -the field would have been far from empty, for there -were nearly as many team candidates as spectators -to-day. More than forty ambitious youths had responded -to the call and it required all the ingenuity -of Dick Lovering and Captain Warner Jones to -give each one a chance. The problem was finally -solved by sending a bunch of tyros into extreme left -field, under charge of Manager Wayland, where -they fielded slow grounders and pop-flies and tested -their throwing arms.</p> - -<p>It was while chasing a ball that had got by him -that Way noticed a fluttering sheet of paper near -the cinder track. It had been creased and folded, -but now lay flat open, challenging curiosity. Way -picked it up and glanced at it as he returned to his -place. It held all sorts of scrawls and scribbles, but -the words “William Butler Shaw,” and the letters -“W. B. S.,” variously arranged and entwined, were -frequently repeated. Occupying the upper part of -the sheet were six or seven lines of what, since the -last words rhymed with each other, Way concluded -to be poetry. Since many of the words had been -scored out and superseded by others, and since the -writing was none too legible in any case, Way had -to postpone the reading of the complete poem. He -stuffed it in his pocket, with a chuckle, and went -back to amusing his awkward squad.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_45"></a>[45]</span></p> - -<p>Fudge Shaw sat on the bench between Felker and -Grover and awaited his turn in the outfield. Fudge -had played in center some, but he was not quite -Varsity material, so to speak, and his hopes of making -even the second team, which would be formed -presently, from what coach and captain rejected, -were not strong. Still, Fudge “liked to stick around -where things were doing,” as he expressed it, and he -accepted his impending fate with philosophy. Besides, -he had more than half made up his mind to -cast his lot with the Track Team this spring. He -was discussing the gentle art of putting the twelve-pound -shot with Guy Felker when Dick summoned -the outfield trio in and sent Fudge and two others to -take their places. Fudge trotted out to center and -set about his task of pulling down Bert Cable’s flies. -Perhaps his mind was too full of shot-putting to -allow him to give the needed attention to the work -at hand. At all events, he managed to judge his first -ball so badly that it went six feet over his head and -was fielded in by one of Way’s squad. Way was -laughing when Fudge turned toward him after -throwing the ball to the batter.</p> - -<p>“A fellow needs a pair of smoked glasses out -here,” called Fudge extenuatingly. This, in view -of the fact that the sun was behind Fudge’s right -shoulder, was a lamentably poor excuse. Possibly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_46"></a>[46]</span> -he realized it, for he added: “My eyes have been -awfully weak lately.”</p> - -<p>Way, meeting the ball gently with his bat and -causing a wild commotion amongst his fielders, nodded -soberly. “And for many other reasons,” he -called across.</p> - -<p>“Eh?” asked Fudge puzzled. But there was -no time for more just then as Bert Cable, observing -his inattention, meanly shot a long low fly into left -field, and Fudge, starting late, had to run half-way -to the fence in order to attempt the catch. Of course -he missed it and then, when he had chased it down, -made matters worse by throwing at least twelve feet -to the left of Cable on the return. The ex-captain -glared contemptuously and shouted some scathing -remark that Fudge didn’t hear. After that, he -got along fairly well, sustaining a bruised finger, -however, as a memento of the day’s activities. When -practice was over he trudged back to the dressing-room -and got into his street clothes. Fortunately, -most of the new fellows had dressed at home and -so it was possible to find room in which to squirm -out of things without collisions. While Fudge was -lacing his shoes he observed that Way and his particular -crony, Will Scott, who played third base, -were unusually hilarious in a far corner of the -room.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_47"></a>[47]</span></p> - -<p>But Fudge was unsuspicious, and presently he found -himself walking home with the pair.</p> - -<p>“Say, this is certainly peachy weather, isn’t it?” -inquired Will as they turned into B Street. “Aren’t -you crazy about spring, Way?”</p> - -<p>“Am I? Well, rather! O beauteous spring!”</p> - -<p>“So am I. You know it makes the birds sing in -the trees.”</p> - -<p>“Sure. And it makes the April breeze to blow.”</p> - -<p>“What’s wrong with you chaps?” asked Fudge -perplexedly. The strange words struck him as dimly -familiar but he didn’t yet connect them with their -source.</p> - -<p>“Fudge,” replied Way sadly, “I fear you have -no poetry in your soul. Doesn’t the spring awaken—er—awaken -feelings in your breast? Don’t you -feel the—the appeal of the sunshine and the singing -birds and all that?”</p> - -<p>“You’re batty,” said Fudge disgustedly.</p> - -<p>“Now for my part,” said Will Scott, “spring art, -I ween, the best of all the seasons.”</p> - -<p>“Now you’re saying something,” declared Way -enthusiastically. “It clothes the earth with -green——”</p> - -<p>“And for numerous other reasons,” added Will -gravely.</p> - -<p>A great light broke on Fudge and his rotund<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_48"></a>[48]</span> -cheeks took on a vivid tinge. “W-w-what you -s-s-silly chumps think you’re up to?” he demanded. -“W-w-where did you g-g-g-get that st-t-t-tuff?”</p> - -<p>“Stuff!” exclaimed Way protestingly. “That’s -poetry, Fudge. Gen-oo-ine poetry. Want to hear -it all?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t!”</p> - -<p>But Will had already started declaiming and Way -chimed in:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“O Beauteous Spring, thou art, I ween,</div> - <div class="verse indent3">The best of all the Seasons,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">Because you clothe the Earth with green</div> - <div class="verse indent3">And for numerous other reasons!”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“I hope you ch-ch-choke!” groaned Fudge. -“W-w-where’d you get it? Who t-t-told you——”</p> - -<p>“Fudge,” replied Way, laughingly, “you shouldn’t -leave your poetic effusions around the landscape if -you don’t want them read.” He pulled the sheet of -paper from his pocket and flaunted it temptingly just -out of reach. “‘You make the birds sing in the -trees——’”</p> - -<p>“‘The April breeze to blow,’” continued Will.</p> - -<p>“‘The sun to shine——’ What’s the rest of it, -Fudge? Say, it’s corking! It’s got a swing to it -that’s simply immense!”</p> - -<p>“And then the sentiment, the poetic feeling!” -elaborated Will. “How do you do it, Fudge?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_49"></a>[49]</span></p> - -<p>“Aw, q-q-quit it, fellows, and g-g-g-give me that!” -begged Fudge shame-facedly. “I just did it for -f-f-fun. It d-d-dropped out of my p-p-p——”</p> - -<p>But “pocket” was too much for Fudge in his -present state of mind, and he gave up the effort and -tried to get the sheet of paper away. He succeeded -finally, by the time they had reached Lafayette -Street, where their ways parted, and tore it to small -bits and dropped it into someone’s hedge. Way and -Will departed joyfully, and until they were out of -earshot Fudge could hear them declaiming the “Ode -to Spring.” He went home a prey to a deep depression. -He feared that he had by no means heard -the last of the unfortunate poetical effort. And, as -the future proved, his fears were far from groundless.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_50"></a>[50]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br /> -<small>PERRY REMEMBERS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Fudge had an engagement to go to the moving -pictures that evening with Perry Hull. -They put on the new reels on Mondays and -Fudge was a devoted “first-nighter.” Very shortly -after supper was over he picked up a book and carelessly -strolled toward the hall.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going, William?” asked his -mother.</p> - -<p>“Over to the library,” replied Fudge, making a -strong display of the book in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t stay late. Haven’t you any studying -to do to-night?”</p> - -<p>“No’m, not much. I’ll do it when I come -back.”</p> - -<p>“Seems to me,” said Mrs. Shaw doubtfully, “it -would be better to do your studying first.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t feel like studying so soon after supper,” -returned Fudge plaintively. “I won’t be gone very -long—I guess.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_51"></a>[51]</span></p> - -<p>“Very well, dear. Close the door after you. -It’s downright chilly again to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m.” Fudge slipped his cap to the back of -his round head and opened the side door. There he -hesitated. Of course, he was going to the library, -although he didn’t especially want to, for it was -many blocks out of his way, but he meant to make -his visit to that place as short as possible in order -to call for Perry and reach the theater early enough -not to miss a single feature of the evening’s program. -And he was practically telling a lie. Fudge -didn’t like that. He felt decidedly uneasy as he -stood with the door knob in hand. The trouble was -that his mother didn’t look kindly on moving pictures. -She didn’t consider them harmful, but she -did think them a waste of time, and was firmly -convinced that once a month was quite often enough -for Fudge to indulge his passion for that form of -entertainment. Fudge had a severe struggle out -there in the hallway, and I like to think that he would -have eventually decided to make known his principal -destination had not Mrs. Shaw unfortunately -interrupted his cogitations.</p> - -<p>“William, have you gone?”</p> - -<p>“No’m.”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t hold the door open, please. I feel a -draft on my feet.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_52"></a>[52]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes’m.” Fudge slowly closed the door, with -himself on the outside. The die was cast. He tried -to comfort himself with the assurance that if his -mother hadn’t spoken just when she did he would -have asked permission to go to the “movies.” It -wasn’t his fault. He passed out of the yard whistling -blithely enough, but before he had reached the -corner the whistle had died away. He wished he -had told the whole truth. He was more than half -inclined to go back, but it was getting later every -minute and he had to walk eight blocks to the library -and five back to the theater, and it would take him -several minutes to exchange his book, and Perry -might not be ready——</p> - -<p>Fudge was so intent on all this that he passed the -front of the Merrick house, on the corner, without, -as usual, announcing his transit with a certain peculiar -whistle common to him and his friends. He -walked hurriedly, determinedly, trying to keep his -thoughts on the pleasure in store, hoping they’d -have a rattling good melodrama on the bill to-night -and would present less of the “sentimental rot” than -was their custom. But Conscience stalked at Fudge’s -side, and the further he got from home the more -uncomfortable he felt in his mind; and his thoughts -refused to stay placed on the “movies.” But while -he paused in crossing G Street to let one of the big<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_53"></a>[53]</span> -yellow cars trundle past him a splendid idea came -to him. He would telephone! There was a booth in -the library, and if he had a nickel—quick examination -of his change showed that he was possessed of -eleven cents beyond the sum required to purchase -admission to the theater. With a load off his mind, -he hurried on faster than ever, ran across the library -grounds with no heed to the “Keep off the -Grass” signs and simply hurtled through the swinging -green doors.</p> - -<p>It was the work of only a minute or two to seize -a book from the rack on the counter—it happened -to be a treatise on the Early Italian Painters, but -Fudge didn’t care—and make the exchange. The -assistant librarian looked somewhat surprised at -Fudge’s choice, but secretly hoped that it indicated -a departure from the sensational fiction usually -selected by the boy, and passed the volume across -to him at last with an approving smile. Fudge was -too impatient to see the smile, however. The book -once in his possession, he hurried to the telephone -booth in the outer hall and demanded his -number. Then a perfectly good five-cent piece -dropped forever out of his possession and he heard -his mother’s voice at the other end of the line.</p> - -<p>“This is Fudge. Say, Ma, I thought—I’m at the -library, Ma, and I got the book I wanted, and I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_54"></a>[54]</span> -thought, seeing it’s so early—say, Ma, may I go to -the movies for a little while?”</p> - -<p>“You intended to go all the time, didn’t you, William?” -came his mother’s voice.</p> - -<p>“Yes’m, but——”</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you tell me?”</p> - -<p>That was something of a poser. “Well, I meant -to, but—but you said not to keep the door open and—and——” -Fudge’s voice dwindled into silence.</p> - -<p>“Why do you tell me now?”</p> - -<p>Gee, but she certainly could ask a lot of hard -questions, he reflected. “I thought maybe—oh, I -don’t know, Ma. May I? Just for a little while? -I’m going with Perry—if you say I can.”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather you told me in the first place, William, -but telling me now shows that you know you did -wrong. You mustn’t tell lies, William, and when -you said you were going to the library——”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m, I know!” Fudge was shifting impatiently -from one foot to the other, his eyes fixed on the -library clock, seen through an oval pane in one of -the green baize doors. “I—I’m sorry. Honest, I -am. That’s why I telephoned, Ma.”</p> - -<p>“If I let you go to-night you won’t ask to go again -next week?”</p> - -<p>“No’m,” replied Fudge dejectedly.</p> - -<p>“Very well, then you may go. And you needn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_55"></a>[55]</span> -leave before it’s over, William, because if you don’t -go next week you might as well see all you can this -time.”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m! Thanks! Good-by!”</p> - -<p>Fudge knew a short cut from Ivy Street to G -Street, and that saved nearly a minute even though -it necessitated climbing a high fence and trespassing -on someone’s premises. He reached Perry’s and, -to his vast relief, found that youth awaiting him at -the gate. Perry was slightly surprised to be hailed -from the direction opposite to that in which he was -looking, but joined Fudge at the corner and, in response -to the latter’s earnest and somewhat breathless -appeal to “Get a move on,” accompanied him -rapidly along the next block. Just as they came into -sight of the brilliantly illumined front of the moving -picture house, eight o’clock began to sound on -the City Hall bell and Fudge broke into a run.</p> - -<p>“Come on!” he panted. “We’ll be late!”</p> - -<p>They weren’t, though. The orchestra was still -dolefully tuning up as they found seats. The orchestra -consisted principally of a pianist, although -four other musicians were arranged lonesomely on -either side. The two boys were obliged to sit well -over toward the left of the house and when the orchestra -began the overture Fudge’s gaze, attracted -to the performers, stopped interestedly at the pianist.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_56"></a>[56]</span> -“Say, Perry,” he said, “they’ve got a new guy at -the piano. See?”</p> - -<p>Perry looked and nodded. Then he took a second -look and frowned puzzledly. “Who is he?” he -asked.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. But the other fellow was short -and fat. Say, I hope they have a good melodrama, -don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, one of those Western plays, eh?” Perry’s -gaze went back to the man at the piano. There was -something about him that awakened recollection. -He was a tall, broad-shouldered man of twenty-six -or -seven, with clear-cut and very good-looking features, -and a luxuriant mustache, as Perry could see -when he turned to smile at one of the violinists. He -played the piano as though he thoroughly enjoyed -it, swaying a little from the hips and sometimes emphasizing -with a sudden swift bend of his head.</p> - -<p>“He can play all around the other guy,” said -Fudge in low and admiring whispers. “Wish I could -play a piano like that. I’ll bet he can ‘rag’ like anything!”</p> - -<p>At that moment the house darkened and the program -commenced with the customary weekly review. -Fudge sat through some ten minutes of that patiently, -and was only slightly bored when a rustic -comedy was unrolled before him, but when the next<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_57"></a>[57]</span> -film developed into what he disdainfully called “one -of those mushy things,” gloom began to settle over -his spirits. He squirmed impatiently in his seat and -muttered protestingly. A sharp-faced, elderly lady -next to him audibly requested him to “sit still, for -Mercy’s sake!” Fudge did the best he could and -virtue was rewarded after a while. “Royston of -the Rangers,” announced the film. Fudge sat up, -devoured the cast that followed and, while the orchestra -burst into a jovial two-step, nudged Perry -ecstatically.</p> - -<p>“Here’s your Western play,” he whispered.</p> - -<p>Perry nodded. Then the first scene swept on the -screen and Fudge was happy. It was a quickly-moving, -breath-taking drama, and the hero, a Texas -Ranger, bore a charmed life if anyone ever did. He -simply had to. If he hadn’t he’d have been dead -before the film had unrolled a hundred feet! Perry -enjoyed that play even more than Fudge, perhaps, -for he was still enthralled by yesterday’s dreams. -There were rangers and cowboys and Mexicans and -a sheriff’s posse and many other picturesque persons, -and “battle, murder and sudden death” was -the order of the day. During a running fight between -galloping rangers and a band of Mexican desperados -Fudge almost squirmed off his chair to -the floor. After that there was a really funny<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_58"></a>[58]</span> -“comic” and that, in turn, was followed by another -melodrama which, if not as hair-raising as the first, -brought much satisfaction to Fudge. On the whole, -it was a pretty good show. Fudge acknowledged -it as he and Perry wormed their way out through -the loitering audience at the end of the performance.</p> - -<p>They discussed it as they made their way along -to Castle’s Drug Store where Perry was to treat to -sodas. For Fudge at least half the fun was found -in talking the show over afterwards. He was a -severe critic, and if the manager of the theater -could have heard his remarks about the “mushy” -film he might have been moved to exclude such features -thereafter. When they had had their sodas -and had turned back toward Perry’s house, Perry -suddenly stood stock-still on the sidewalk and -ejaculated: “Gee, I know where I saw him!”</p> - -<p>“Saw who?” demanded Fudge. “Come on, you -chump.”</p> - -<p>“Why, the fellow who played the piano. I’ll bet -you anything he’s the cowboy!”</p> - -<p>“You try cold water,” said Fudge soothingly. -“Just wet a towel and put it around your head——”</p> - -<p>“No, listen, will you, Fudge? I want to tell you.” -So Perry recounted the odd coincidence of the preceding -evening, ending with: “And I’ll bet you -anything you like that’s the same fellow who was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_59"></a>[59]</span> -playing the piano there to-night. I recognized him, -I tell you, only I couldn’t think at first.”</p> - -<p>“Well, he didn’t look like a cowboy to-night,” -replied Fudge dubiously. “Besides, what would he -be doing here? This isn’t any place for cowboys. -I guess you kind of imagined that part of it. Maybe -he had on a felt hat; I don’t say he didn’t; but I -guess you imagined the rest of it. It—it’s psychological, -Perry. You were thinking about cowboys -and such things and then this fellow appeared -at the window and you thought he was dressed like -one.”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t. I tell you I could see the handkerchief -around his neck and—and everything! I don’t -say he really is a cowboy, but I know mighty well -he was dressed like one. And I know he’s the fellow -we saw playing the piano.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, shucks, cowboys don’t play pianos, Perry. -Besides, what does it matter anyway?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, I suppose, only—only it’s sort of funny. -I’d like to know why he was got up like a cowboy.”</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you ask him? Tell you what we’ll -do, Perry, we’ll go up there to-morrow after the -show’s over and lay in wait for him.”</p> - -<p>“Up to his room? I wonder if he has an office. -Maybe he gives lessons, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of lessons?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_60"></a>[60]</span></p> - -<p>“Piano lessons. Why would he have an office?”</p> - -<p>“Search me. But we’ll find out. We’ll put -‘Young Sleuth’ on his trail. Maybe there’s a mystery -about him. I’ll drop around after practice to-morrow -and we’ll trail him down. Say, what about -the Track Team? Thought you were going to join.”</p> - -<p>“I was. Only—oh, I got to thinking maybe I -couldn’t run very fast, after all.”</p> - -<p>“Piffle! We’ll have another trial, then. I’ll get -Gordon to hold the watch at the start and I’ll time -you at the finish. What do you say? Want to try -it to-morrow?”</p> - -<p>“No, I’d feel like a fool,” muttered Perry. “Maybe -I’ll register to-morrow, anyway. I dare say it -won’t do any harm even if I find I can’t sprint much. -What about you and putting the shot?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to try for it, I guess. Baseball’s no -good for me. They won’t even give me a place on -the Second, I suppose. Guess I’ll talk to Felker -about it to-morrow. You’re silly if you don’t have -a try at it, Perry. You’ve got the making of a -dandy sprinter; you mark my words!”</p> - -<p>“If you’ll register for the team, I will,” said -Perry.</p> - -<p>“All right! It’s a bargain!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_61"></a>[61]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br /> -<small>THE FALSE MUSTACHE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">“Well?” asked Lanny.</p> - -<p>Curtis Wayland shook his head and -smiled. “He thought I was fooling at -first. Then he thought I was crazy. After that he -just pitied me for not having any sense.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve pitied you all my life for that,” laughed -Lanny. “But what did he say?”</p> - -<p>“Said in order for him to let us have the use of -town property he’d have to introduce a bill or something -in the Council and have it passed and signed -by the Mayor and sworn to by the Attorney and -sealed by the Sealer and—and——”</p> - -<p>“And stamped by the stamper?” suggested Dick -Lovering helpfully.</p> - -<p>“Cut out the comedy stuff,” said Lanny. “He -just won’t do it, eh?”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I gathered,” Way assented dryly. -“And if, in my official capacity of——”</p> - -<p>“Or incapacity,” interpolated Lanny sweetly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_62"></a>[62]</span></p> - -<p>Way scowled fearsomely. “If in my capacity of -manager of this team,” he resumed with dignity, -“I’m required to go on any more idiotic errands like -that I’m going to resign. I may be crazy and -foolish, but I hate to have folks mention it.”</p> - -<p>“We’re all touchy on our weak points,” said -Lanny kindly. “Well, I suppose you did the best -you could, Way, but I’m blessed if I see how it -would hurt them to let us use their old road roller.”</p> - -<p>“He also dropped some careless remark about the -expense of running it,” observed Way, “from which -I gathered that, even if he did let us take it, he -meant to sock us about fifteen dollars a day!”</p> - -<p>“Who is he?” Dick asked.</p> - -<p>“He’s Chairman or something of the Street Department.”</p> - -<p>“Superintendent of Streets,” corrected Way. “I -saw it on the door.”</p> - -<p>“I mean,” explained Dick, “what’s his name?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Burns. He’s Ned Burns’ father.”</p> - -<p>“Uncle,” corrected Way.</p> - -<p>“Could Burns have done anything with him, do -you suppose?” Dick asked thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe so. The man is deficient in public -spirit and lacking in—in charitable impulse, or -something.” Lanny frowned intently at Way until -the latter said:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_63"></a>[63]</span></p> - -<p>“Out with it! What’s on your mind?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing much. Only—well, that field certainly -needs a good rolling.”</p> - -<p>“It certainly does,” assented Way. “But if you’re -hinting for me to go back and talk to that man -again——”</p> - -<p>“I’m not. The time for asking has passed. We -gave them a chance to be nice about it and they -wouldn’t. Now it’s up to us.”</p> - -<p>“Right-o, old son! What are we going to do -about it?”</p> - -<p>Lanny smiled mysteriously. “You just hold your -horses and see,” he replied. “I guess the crowd’s -here, Dick. Shall we start things up?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, let’s get at it. Hello, Fudge!”</p> - -<p>“Hello, fellers! Say, Dick, I’m quitting.”</p> - -<p>“Quitting? Oh, baseball, you mean. What’s the -trouble?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I’m not good enough and there’s no use my -hanging around, I guess. I’m going out for the -Track Team to-morrow. I thought I’d let you -know.”</p> - -<p>“Thanks. Well, I’m sorry, Fudge, but you’re -right about it. You aren’t quite ready for the team -yet. Maybe next year——”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I thought. Lanny’ll be gone then -and maybe I’ll catch for you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_64"></a>[64]</span></p> - -<p>“That’s nice of you,” laughed Lanny. “I was -worried about what was going to happen after I’d -left. Meanwhile, though, Fudge, what particular -stunt are you going to do on the Track Team?”</p> - -<p>“Weights, I guess. Perry Hull’s going out for -the team and he dared me to. Think I could put the -shot, Dick?”</p> - -<p>“I really don’t know, Fudge. It wouldn’t take -you long to find out, though. You’re pretty strong, -aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“I guess so,” replied Fudge quite modestly. -“Anyway, Felker’s yelling for fellows to join and I -thought there wouldn’t be any harm in trying.”</p> - -<p>“‘And for many other reasons,’” murmured -Way. The others smiled, and Fudge, with an embarrassed -and reproachful glance, hurried away to -where Perry was awaiting him in the stand.</p> - -<p>“Fellows who read other fellows’ things that -aren’t meant for them to read are pretty low-down, -I think,” he ruminated. “And I’ll tell him so, too, -if he doesn’t let up.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you love spring?” asked Perry as Fudge -joined him. “It makes——”</p> - -<p>Fudge turned upon him belligerently. “Here, -don’t you start that too!” he exclaimed warmly.</p> - -<p>“Start what?” gasped Perry. “I only said——”</p> - -<p>“I heard what you said! Cut it out!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_65"></a>[65]</span></p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with you?” asked Perry. -“Can’t I say that I like spring if I want to?”</p> - -<p>“And what else were you going to say?” demanded -Fudge sternly.</p> - -<p>“That it makes you feel nice and lazy,” replied -the other in hurt tones.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Nothing about—about the birds singing or -the April breeze?”</p> - -<p>Perry viewed his friend in genuine alarm. “Honest, -Fudge, I don’t know what you’re talking about. -Aren’t you well?”</p> - -<p>“Then you haven’t heard it.” Fudge sighed. -“Sorry I bit your head off.”</p> - -<p>“Heard what?” asked Perry in pardonable curiosity.</p> - -<p>Fudge hesitated and tried to retreat, but Perry -insisted on being informed, and finally Fudge told -about the “Ode to Spring” and the fun the fellows -were having with him. “I get it on all sides,” he -said mournfully. “Tappen passed me a note in -Latin class this morning; wanted to know what the -other reasons were. Half the fellows in school are -on to it and I don’t hear anything else. I’m sick -of it!”</p> - -<p>Perry’s eyes twinkled, but he expressed proper -sympathy, and Fudge finally consented to forget -his grievance and lend a critical eye to the doings<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_66"></a>[66]</span> -of the baseball candidates. They didn’t remain until -practice was over, however, for, in his capacity of -“Young Sleuth,” Fudge was determined to unravel -the mystery of the cowboy-pianist, as he called the -subject for investigation. The afternoon performance -at the moving picture theater was over about -half-past four or quarter to five, and a few minutes -after four the two boys left the field and went back -to town. Fudge explained the method of operation -on the way.</p> - -<p>“We’ll wait outside the theater,” he said. “I’ll -be looking in a window and you can be on the other -side of the street. He mustn’t see us, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” asked Perry.</p> - -<p>“Because he might suspect.”</p> - -<p>“Suspect what?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that we were on his track,” explained -Fudge a trifle impatiently. “You don’t suppose detectives -let the folks they are shadowing know it, -do you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see what harm it would do if he saw us. -There isn’t anything for him to get excited about, -is there?”</p> - -<p>“You can’t tell. I’ve been thinking a lot about -this chap, Perry, and the more I—the more I study -the case the less I like it.” Fudge frowned intensely. -“There’s something mighty suspicious about him,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_67"></a>[67]</span> -I think. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d done something.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean, done something?”</p> - -<p>“Why, committed some crime. Maybe he’s sort -of hiding out here. No one would think of looking -for him in a movie theater, would they?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe not, but if they went to the theater they’d -be pretty certain to see him, wouldn’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Huh! He’s probably disguised. I’ll bet that -mustache of his is a fake one.”</p> - -<p>“It didn’t look so,” Perry objected. “What -sort of—of crime do you suppose he committed, -Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s pretty slick-looking. I wouldn’t be -surprised if he turned out to be a safe-breaker. -Maybe he’s looking for a chance to crack a safe here -in Clearfield; sort of studying the lay of the land, -you know, and seeing where there’s a good chance -to get a lot of money. We might go over to the -police station, Perry, and see if there’s a description -of him there. I’ll bet you he’s wanted somewhere -for something all right!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, get out, Fudge! The fellow’s a dandy-looking -chap. And even if he had done something and -I knew it, I wouldn’t go and tell on him.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I didn’t say I would, did I? B-b-but -there’s no harm in finding out, is there?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_68"></a>[68]</span></p> - -<p>Whether Fudge’s watch was slow or whether, -absorbed in their conversation, they consumed more -time than they realized on the way, the City Hall -clock proclaimed twenty-two minutes to five when -they reached the Common and, to Fudge’s intense -disgust, the theater was out. The ticket-seller had -departed from his glass hutch between the two doors -and the latter were closed. Fudge scowled his displeasure.</p> - -<p>“He’s made his getaway,” he said, “but he can’t -escape us long. The Hand of the Law——” He -paused, his attention attracted by one of the colorful -posters adorning the entrance. “Say, Perry, that’s -where the Mexican tries to throw her off the cliff. -Remember? I’d like to see that again. It’s a -corker! Gee, why didn’t we think to come here this -afternoon?”</p> - -<p>“I’d rather wait until Thursday and see some new -ones,” replied Perry. “Come over to the house for -a while, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going on with this?” asked Fudge -surprisedly.</p> - -<p>“Well, he’s gone, hasn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t keep us from having a look at his -hiding place, does it? We’ll go around there and -reconnoiter. Come on.”</p> - -<p>But Perry held back.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_69"></a>[69]</span></p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t want him to think we were snooping -on him, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“He won’t know. We’ll just track him to his lair -but we won’t let on we’re after him. It’s a good -idea to know where to find him in case we want him. -And we’d ought to find out whether there’s more -than one way for him to get in and out.”</p> - -<p>“I know there is. There’s a front door and a -back. The back door lets out into that little alley -next to Cosgrove’s store on Common Street.”</p> - -<p>“Cosgrove’s? Ha!” Fudge stopped abruptly and -tried to look as much like his favorite hero, “Young -Sleuth,” as possible. “That’s it, then!”</p> - -<p>“What’s it?” asked Perry impatiently.</p> - -<p>“It’s Cosgrove’s he’s after. Don’t you see?” -Cosgrove’s was the principal jewelry store in Clearfield. -“That’s why he rented a room in that block, -Perry. All he’s got to do is to go out the back way -to the alley and there he is!”</p> - -<p>“You’re crazy,” laughed Perry. “You don’t know -that the man’s a—a criminal, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it looks mighty like it,” asserted Fudge, -shaking his head in a very satisfied way. “Everything -points to it. We’ll have a look at the alley -first, I guess.”</p> - -<p>The entrance was only a half-block distant and -Perry followed his enthusiastic friend up its narrow<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_70"></a>[70]</span> -length until it stopped at a board fence beyond -which was the back yard of the next house to the -Hulls’. On the way Fudge paid much attention -to the three barred windows of Cosgrove’s store.</p> - -<p>“See if you see signs of a file,” he whispered to -Perry. “That’s what he’d probably do; come down -here at night and file the bars away. Maybe we’d -better go into the store and see where the safe is -located.”</p> - -<p>“If you don’t stop tugging at those bars we’ll get -pinched,” objected Perry. He was losing his interest -in the affair and had begun to think Fudge’s -sleuthing rather tiresome. Besides, it was getting -sort of dark in the little alley and he had already -collided painfully with an ash-barrel. He was relieved -when Fudge finally satisfied himself that -so far, at least, the bars of the jewelry store -windows had not been tampered with. Fudge was -evidently disappointed and not a little surprised. He -did a good deal of muttering as he went on to the -end of the alley. There he stared across the fence.</p> - -<p>“Whose house is that?” he asked in a hoarse -whisper.</p> - -<p>“Judge Folwell’s. No one lives in it now, -though.”</p> - -<p>“Hm,” said Fudge. “Your house is over there, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_71"></a>[71]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes. That’s the roof.”</p> - -<p>“Has your father got a safe?”</p> - -<p>“No, he hasn’t. For the love of mud, Fudge, -come on home.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute.” Fudge turned to the back of -the brick block. “What’s on the first floor here?”</p> - -<p>“Ginter’s Bakery.”</p> - -<p>“Then this door opens into that?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I suppose so. What difference -does it make?”</p> - -<p>“It makes a lot of difference,” replied Fudge with -much dignity. “If it does, he’d have to pass through -the bakery to get out this way, wouldn’t he? And -someone would be likely to see him. What we’ve -got to find out is whether it does or doesn’t.” Fudge -walked up the two stone steps and tried the latch. -The door opened easily. Inside was silence and -darkness. Fudge hesitated. “Maybe,” he murmured, -“we’d better try the front way first.”</p> - -<p>They did, Perry, for one, retracing his steps -through the darkening alley with relief. At the main -entrance of the building on G Street they climbed -two flights of stairs, Fudge cautioning his companion -against making too much noise, and, with -assumed carelessness, loitered down the hall to the -last door on the right. There were some five or -six offices on each side and several of them appeared<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_72"></a>[72]</span> -to be unoccupied at present. Nor was there anything -about the door they sought to suggest that the room -behind it was the refuge of a desperate criminal or, -for that matter, anyone else. The door was closed -and bore no sign. The two boys halted at a discreet -distance and studied it.</p> - -<p>“Wonder if he’s in there now,” whispered Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Probably,” replied Perry uneasily. The hall was -silent and shadows lurked in the corners. From the -floor below came the faint ticking of a typewriter, -but that was all the sound that reached them until an -automobile horn screeched outside. Perry jumped -nervously.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s beat it. He -might come out and——”</p> - -<p>At that moment footsteps sounded on the lower -flight. Perry tugged at Fudge’s arm. “Come on, -can’t you?” he urged. But Fudge was listening -intently to the approaching steps. The person, whoever -he was, tramped along the hall below and began -the ascent of the next flight. Perry looked about -for concealment. A few yards away a half-open -door showed an empty and dusty interior. Perry -slid through and Fudge followed, closing the door -softly all but a few inches. The footsteps reached -the top of the stairs and approached along the corridor, -passed and kept on toward the back of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_73"></a>[73]</span> -building. Cautiously the two boys peered out. It -was the cowboy-pianist. He paused at the last portal, -produced a key, inserted it in the lock and opened -the door. And as he passed from sight he raised a -hand and removed the luxuriant brown mustache -from his upper lip!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_74"></a>[74]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br /> -<small>FUDGE REVOLTS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">The boys crept quietly down the stairs and -out into the street. It was not until they had -turned the corner that Fudge broke the -silence.</p> - -<p>“What do you know about that?” he murmured -awedly.</p> - -<p>“Looks as though you were right,” returned -Perry admiringly. “He was disguised, all right.”</p> - -<p>“I—I’ve got to think this over,” said Fudge. He -was plainly bewildered. They paused at Perry’s -gate and he declined an invitation to enter, with -a shake of his head. “I guess,” he muttered, -“there’s more in this than I thought. You saw -him take it off, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Of course!”</p> - -<p>Fudge sighed relievedly. Perhaps he had doubted -the evidences of his senses. “Well, I’ll think -it over, and to-morrow——”</p> - -<p>“What?” asked Perry interestedly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_75"></a>[75]</span></p> - -<p>“We’ll see,” was Fudge’s cryptic and unsatisfactory -reply. “So long. And not a word of this to -a living soul, Perry!”</p> - -<p>“All right. But, say, Fudge”—Perry dropped his -voice—“do you really think he’s a—a criminal?”</p> - -<p>“What else can he be? Folks don’t wear false -mustaches for nothing, do they?”</p> - -<p>“N-no, but he might be doing it for—for a -sort of joke,” returned the other lamely.</p> - -<p>Fudge sniffed. “Joke! I’ll bet the joke will -be on him before I’m—before we’re done with -him! You leave it to me. Night!”</p> - -<p>Fudge strode off in the twilight. There was -something very stealthy and even somber in his -departure. Perry, watching a bit admiringly, saw -the careful manner in which the amateur detective -discounted surprise by keeping close to the fence -and peering cautiously at each tree as he approached -it. At last Fudge melted mysteriously into the distant -shadows down the street, and Perry, somewhat -thrilled with the afternoon’s adventure, hurried upstairs -and glanced toward the window in the brick -building. There was a light behind the lowered -shade, but, although he kept watch for nearly a -half-hour, nothing came into view.</p> - -<p>He wondered what was going on behind that -window, and imagined all sorts of deliciously exciting<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_76"></a>[76]</span> -things. Perhaps the mysterious cowboy pianist -was studying a plan of Cosgrove’s jewelry store, -or perhaps he was bending over a fascinating assortment -of jimmies and files and—yes, there’d be -an acetylene torch for burning a hole in the steel -safe, and there’d be dynamite or nitro-glycerine -or something equally useful to a safe-breaker! If -only he might somehow get a momentary peek -into that room over there! He was so full of -his interesting neighbor that he ate almost no supper -and incurred the anxious displeasure of his -mother.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you feeling well, Perry?” she asked.</p> - -<p>“No’m—I mean, yes’m!”</p> - -<p>“I think, Father, you’d better have a look at him -after supper. His face looks feverish to me.”</p> - -<p>“I’m all right, honest, Ma! I—I just ain’t hungry.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t say ‘ain’t,’ Perry. Have you been eating -this afternoon?”</p> - -<p>“No’m.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t worry about him,” said the Doctor. -“These first spring days are likely to interfere with -one’s appetite. Have you started that sprinting yet? -Been doing too much running to-day?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, we don’t start until to-morrow. Dad, -did you ever see a burglar?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_77"></a>[77]</span></p> - -<p>“I suppose so. I don’t recollect. Have you -seen one around?”</p> - -<p>Perry almost changed color. “No, sir—that is—I -just wondered whether they wore false mustaches.”</p> - -<p>“Now, Perry Hull, what sort of nonsense -have you been reading?” inquired his mother. -“Some of the books you get out of the library -aren’t fit for any boy; all about fighting and Indians -and—and now it’s burglars, I dare say! I -don’t see when you have time for reading, anyway, -with all those lessons to study. Your report card -last month wasn’t anything to boast of, either.”</p> - -<p>“It was all right except math.,” defended Perry. -“Gee, if you think my card was punk, you ought -to see some of them!”</p> - -<p>“I didn’t say anything about ‘punk,’” retorted -Mrs. Hull with dignity. “And I’d like to know -where you get all the horrid words you use lately. -I dare say it’s that Shaw boy. He looks rather -common, I think.”</p> - -<p>“There, there, Mother, don’t scold him any more,” -said the Doctor soothingly. “Slang’s harmless -enough. Have a slice of lamb, son?”</p> - -<p>Perry dutifully passed his plate and consumed -the lamb, not because he had any appetite for it -but in order to allay his mother’s suspicions of illness.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_78"></a>[78]</span> -There were some especially nasty bottles in -the Doctor’s office and Perry had long ago vowed -never to be ill again! After supper he excused -himself early and retired to his room to study. -Mrs. Hull smiled commendingly. It was evident -to her that her remarks had borne fruit. But -Perry didn’t get very much studying done, because -he spent much of the evening peeking cautiously -around the corner of his window shade. Of course -he realized that the safe-breaker would be at the -theater in his assumed rôle of pianist, but it had -occurred to Perry that possibly he had an accomplice. -But the opposite window remained dark all -the evening, or at least until after Perry, ready -for bed, had sent a final look across the starlit -gloom. What happened subsequently he didn’t -know, but he dreamed the wildest, most extravagant -dreams in which he was at one moment participating -in furious deeds of crime and the next, -aligned on the side of Justice, was heroically pursuing -a whole horde of criminals across the roofs -of the city. That the criminals were under the -able and even brilliant leadership of Fudge Shaw -did not strike him as the least bit incongruous—until -the next morning!</p> - -<p>When he finally tumbled out of bed, after reviewing -his dreams, or as much as he could recall of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_79"></a>[79]</span> -them, he went first to the window and looked across -the back yard. His heart leaped into his throat -at what he saw. The last window on the third floor -of the brick building was wide-open and there, in -plain view of all the world, sat the safe-breaker! -A small table was pulled in front of the casement -and the safe-breaker was seated at it. On the -table were a cup and saucer, some dishes and a -newspaper. Perry gazed fascinatedly. The safe-breaker -alternately read the paper and ate his -breakfast. Perry couldn’t be quite certain, but it -appeared that the breakfast consisted of sausage -and rolls and coffee. Whatever it was, the man -ate with evident enjoyment, slowly, perusing the -morning news between mouthfuls. There was no -mustache to-day. Instead, the safe-breaker’s face -was clean-shaven and undeniably good-looking in -a rugged way. He had a rather large nose and a -generous mouth and lean cheeks and a very determined-looking -chin. His hair was brown, with -some glints of red in it where the sunlight touched -it. He was attired in quite ordinary clothes, so far -as the observer could see, but wore no coat; perhaps -because the morning was delightfully warm -and the sunlight shone in at his window. Fortunately -for Perry, the man never once glanced -his way. If he had he might easily have seen<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_80"></a>[80]</span> -a boy in blue pajamas staring fascinatedly across at -him with very wide, round eyes. In which case -doubtless he would have suspected that he was -under surveillance!</p> - -<p>Perry was still looking when his mother’s voice -summoned him to action. Regretfully he withdrew -his gaze and hurried off to the bathroom. -When he returned the safe-breaker was still there, -but he had finished his breakfast and was smoking -a short pipe, still busy with the paper, and so -Perry was obliged to leave him, and when he -had finished his own repast and raced upstairs -again the opposite window was empty. Perry set -off to school fairly weighted down with the startling -news he had to tell Fudge Shaw, and hoping -beyond everything that he would be fortunate -enough to meet with that youth before the bell -rang. He wasn’t, however, and not until the noon -hour did he find a chance to unburden himself. -Then, while he and Fudge, together with some two -hundred other boys—not to mention an even larger -number of girls—sat on the coping around the -school grounds and ate their luncheons, he eagerly, -almost breathlessly, recounted the story of what he -had seen.</p> - -<p>Fudge was plainly impressed, and he asked any -number of searching and seemingly purposeless<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_81"></a>[81]</span> -questions, but in the end he appeared a little disappointed. -“It doesn’t seem,” he said, “that he’d -show himself like that if he’s what we think he -is. Unless, of course, he’s doing it for a bluff; -to avert suspicion, you know.”</p> - -<p>Perry nodded.</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t look much like a criminal,” he said -doubtfully. “He’s sort of nice-looking, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Lots of the best of ’em are,” was the sententious -reply. “Look at—oh, lots of ’em! Remember the -crook in that movie play last month, the fellow -who forged things?”</p> - -<p>“Jim the Penman? Yes, but he was only an -actor, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Makes no difference. Those plays are true to -life, Perry. That’s why they got that good-looking -chap to act that part, don’t you see? That’s one -of the most suspicious things about this fellow. -He’s too good-looking, too innocent, don’t you see? -He’s probably an awfully clever cracksman, Perry.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” replied the other hopefully. “What -do you suppose he was so interested in the paper -for?”</p> - -<p>Fudge frowned thoughtfully as he conveyed the -last morsel of a generous sandwich to his mouth. -“You can’t tell. Maybe he was looking to see if -the police were on his track. Or maybe——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_82"></a>[82]</span></p> - -<p>But the bell cut short further speculation and, -agreeing to meet after school, they went back to -the drudgery of learning. Perry had not had time -to ask Fudge what plan of procedure the latter -had decided on, a fact which interfered sadly with -his work during the final session. As it developed -later, however, Fudge had not decided on the best -manner in which to continue the relentless pursuit -of the criminal. As they made their way to -the athletic field Fudge talked a great deal on the -subject but, to Perry’s disappointment, didn’t seem -to arrive anywhere. It would be necessary, thought -Fudge, to do a good deal of watching before they -could obtain enough evidence in the case. What -they ought to do, he declared, was to shadow the -safe-breaker and never let him out of their sight. -But this, as Perry pointed out, was rather impractical, -considering that they had to spend most of -the day in school. Whereupon Fudge reminded -him that Saturday was coming.</p> - -<p>“We’ll have the whole day then. The only thing -I’m afraid of is that he will pull it off before that -and make his getaway. And, of course, if we want -to get the reward we’ve got to collar him before -that.”</p> - -<p>“Reward?” echoed Perry. “What reward?”</p> - -<p>“Why, the reward for his apprehension.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_83"></a>[83]</span></p> - -<p>“How do you know there’s any reward?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t <em>know</em> it, but it stands to reason, doesn’t -it, that there is one? If that fellow’s wanted somewhere -there’s sure to be a reward out for him, and -a description and all. I wish I knew how much it -is!”</p> - -<p>“How much do you suppose?” asked Perry.</p> - -<p>“Oh, maybe five hundred dollars, maybe a thousand. -It depends, you see, on how much swag he -got away with on his last job. Maybe he killed -someone. You can’t tell. Burglars are desperate -folks when they’re interrupted.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think he’d kill anyone,” said Perry. -“He doesn’t look that sort.”</p> - -<p>Fudge, though, shook his head unconvincedly. -“You can’t tell,” he said. “Anyway, if he has, the -reward’s bound to be bigger. You keep your eyes -peeled, Perry, and watch that window closely. I -wouldn’t be surprised if you discovered something -mighty important in the next day or two. He must -be getting pretty nearly ready to do something.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t think, then, he has an accomplice?” -asked Perry.</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t. He sort of looks like a man who’d -work on his own hook. It’s lots safer, you see, -and he has a pretty wise face.”</p> - -<p>There, for the time being, the subject had to be<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_84"></a>[84]</span> -abandoned, for they had reached the field and confidential -conversation was no longer possible.</p> - -<p>Not only the baseball candidates were out to-day -but some forty-odd aspirants for positions on the -Track Team. These were clustered at the further -side of the inclosure where the coach and trainer, -“Skeet” Presser, were, rather dubiously it seemed, -looking them over. Guy Felker, eighteen years of -age and a senior, was captain this year, and Arthur -Beaton was manager. Beaton was checking off the -candidates from a list he held and Captain Felker -was inquiring of no one in particular “where the -rest of them were.” Sixty-four names had gone -down on the notice-board in the school corridor and -only forty-four had shown up. “Skeet” explained -the absence of a number of the delinquents by reminding -Guy that fellows couldn’t practice baseball -and report for track work both. Guy consented -to become slightly mollified, and, Manager -Beaton having completed his checking, the coach -and trainer took charge.</p> - -<p>“Skeet” was a slight, wiry man of some thirty -years, with a homely, good-natured countenance -and a pair of very sharp and shrewd black eyes. -He had been in his time a professional one- and -two-miler of prominence, but of late years had made -a business of training. He was regularly employed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_85"></a>[85]</span> -by the Clearfield Young Men’s Christian Association, -but his duties there did not occupy all his -time and for three seasons he had coached and -trained the High School athletes, and with a fair -measure of success, since during his régime Clearfield -had once won overwhelmingly from her rival, -Springdale, had once been beaten decisively and had -once lost the meeting by a bare three points. This -year, if Guy Felker could have his way, the purple -of Clearfield was to wave in gorgeous triumph over -the blue of Springdale.</p> - -<p>The trouble was, however, that after the last -defeat by her rival Clearfield High School had -rather lost enthusiasm for track and field sports. -The pendulum swung far over toward baseball, -and this spring it had been more than usually difficult -to persuade fellows to come out for the -Track Team. Felker had posted notice after notice -calling for volunteers before his insistence had -stirred up any response. Of course there was a -nucleus in the hold-overs from last season, but -they were not many and new material was badly -needed if the Purple was to make a real showing -against the Blue. Within the last week the list on -the notice-board had grown encouragingly in length, -though, and with a half-hundred candidates to -choose from it would seem that coach and captain<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_86"></a>[86]</span> -should have been encouraged. Unfortunately, -though, a good half of the aspirants were youngsters -whose chances of making good were decidedly -slim, and “Skeet” and Guy Felker both realized -that if, after the final weeding out, they had twenty-five -fellows to build the team with they might consider -themselves extremely fortunate.</p> - -<p>At least half of the candidates who reported this -afternoon were in street togs. Those who were -not were taken by Guy for a slow run out into the -country and the others were dismissed with instructions -to report to-morrow dressed for work. Of -the former were Fudge and Perry, and it was their -fortune to amble over the better part of two miles -at the tail-end of a strung-out procession of runners. -Perry was in the rear because Fudge was. -Fudge was there because running was not a strong -point with him. If it hadn’t been for the occasional -rests allowed by the captain, Fudge would have -dropped out, discouraged and winded, long before -they got back to the field. As it was, however, he -managed to remain within sight of the leaders. -Once when, having trotted up a hill, he subsided on -a convenient ledge to regain his breath, he voiced -a protest.</p> - -<p>“Gee,” panted Fudge, “I don’t see any good in -running all over the landscape like this when you’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_87"></a>[87]</span> -going to be a shot-putter! If I’d known they were -going to spring this on me I wouldn’t have signed -for the team!”</p> - -<p>“I guess maybe it’s good for you,” replied Perry, -“whether you’re going to throw weights or run or -jump. Hadn’t we better start along again? The -others are nearly a quarter of a mile away now.”</p> - -<p>Fudge lifted a dejected head and viewed the situation. -His face brightened. “They’re going -around the hill, Perry,” he said. “That’s all right. -We’ll just trot down this side and pick ’em up -again at the road.”</p> - -<p>Perry wanted to demur at that, but Fudge’s discomfort -was so real that he had to sympathize, and -so they cut off to the right and reached the bottom -of the hill shortly after the first runners had -passed. There were many knowing grins as the -two boys trotted out from the fringe of trees.</p> - -<p>“Did you lose your way?” asked one chap solicitously.</p> - -<p>“No, I lost my breath,” replied Fudge. “Had -to stop and look for it.”</p> - -<p>“‘And for numerous other reasons,’” remarked -a voice behind him.</p> - -<p>Fudge glanced back with a scowl, but every face -in sight was guileless and innocent.</p> - -<p>Later, when they were making their way home<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_88"></a>[88]</span> -from the field, Fudge pulled his feet after him -wearily and groaned every few yards.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be as stiff as a crutch to-morrow,” he sighed -pessimistically. “F-f-for two cents I’d tell Guy to -find someone else to put his old shot for him. I -d-d-didn’t agree to be a b-b-b-blooming slave!”</p> - -<p>Still, he managed to drag himself around to -Perry’s after supper and until it was time for the -theater to open they watched the window across the -yard. But they saw nothing, not even a light. -Fudge feared that their quarry had flown and accused -Perry of scaring him away. “He probably -saw you watching him and has skipped out. Bet -we’ll never see him again!”</p> - -<p>“But I’m quite sure he didn’t see me,” expostulated -the other. “He didn’t look up once.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what you think. He must have seen you. -Well, there goes five hundred dollars!”</p> - -<p>“You don’t even know there was any reward for -him, so what’s the good of grouching about it?”</p> - -<p>But Fudge refused to cheer up and presently took -his departure gloomily. It is very easy to be a -pessimist when one is weary, and Fudge was very -weary indeed!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_89"></a>[89]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<small>LANNY STUDIES STEAM ENGINEERING</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">They were putting down a two-block stretch -of new macadam on the Lafayette Street -extension. A bed of cracked stone, freshly -sprinkled, was receiving the weighty attention of -the town’s biggest steam roller as Lanny White -strolled around the corner. <em>Chug-chug-chug! -Scrunch-scrunch-scrunch!</em> Lanny paused, hands in -pockets, and looked on. Back and forth went -the roller, the engineer skillfully edging it toward -the center of the road at the end of each trip. -Further down the street, where the workmen were -tearing up the old dirt surface, a second and much -smaller roller stood idle, its boiler simmering and -purring. Lanny smiled.</p> - -<p>“Me for the little one,” he muttered, as he walked -toward the smaller roller. The engineer was a -huge, good-natured looking Irishman with a bristling -red mustache, so large that he quite dwarfed the -machine. He had a bunch of dirty cotton waste in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_90"></a>[90]</span> -his hand and, apparently for the want of something -better to do, was rubbing it here and there about -the engine. He looked up as Lanny came to a -stop alongside, met Lanny’s smile and smiled back. -Then he absent-mindedly mopped his face with the -bunch of waste, without, however, appreciable effect, -and leaned against the roller.</p> - -<p>“Gettin’ warm,” he volunteered.</p> - -<p>Lanny nodded, casting his eyes interestedly over -the engine.</p> - -<p>“I should think that would be a pretty warm job -in hot weather,” he observed conversationally.</p> - -<p>“’Tis so. Put eighty or ninety pounds o’ shtame -in her an’ she throws out the hate somethin’ fierce.”</p> - -<p>“She’s smaller than the other one, isn’t she?”</p> - -<p>“Yep. We use this one for the sidewalk work -gin’rally. But she’s good for tearin’ up when she’s -the spikes in her.”</p> - -<p>“Spikes?” asked Lanny.</p> - -<p>“Thim things.” The man picked up a steel spike -some eight inches long from the floor and showed -Lanny how it was fixed in one of the numerous -holes bored in the surface of the roller. After that -Lanny’s curiosity led to all sorts of questions. At -the engineer’s invitation he mounted the platform -and, under instruction, moved the roller backwards -and forwards and altered its course by the steering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_91"></a>[91]</span> -wheel and peered into the glowing furnace under -the boiler and listened to an exposition on the subject -of getting up steam and the purposes of the -steam and water gauges. The engineer was a willing -teacher and Lanny an apt pupil, and they both -enjoyed themselves.</p> - -<p>“And what do you do with it at night?” asked -Lanny innocently. “Do you leave it here and put -the fire out?”</p> - -<p>“Lave it here, yes, but I don’t put the fire out, -lad. I just bank it down, d’you see, an’ thin in the -mornin’ I just rake her out a bit and throw some -more coal in and there she is.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I see. And how much steam does she have -to have to work on?”</p> - -<p>“Depends. Sixty pounds’ll carry her along on a -level strate, but you have to give her more on a -grade.”</p> - -<p>“It’s quite interesting,” said Lanny. “And thanks -for explaining it to me.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, that’s all right,” replied the other good-naturedly. -“Maybe, though, you’ll be afther my -job first thing I know.” He winked humorously.</p> - -<p>Lanny smiled and shook his head. “I guess I’d -be afraid to try to run one of those alone,” he said. -“It looks pretty difficult. How was it, now, I -started it before?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_92"></a>[92]</span></p> - -<p>“Wid this.” The engineer tugged gently at the -lever. “Try it again if you like.”</p> - -<p>So Lanny stepped back on the platform and -rolled the machine a few yards up the road and -back again and seemed quite pleased and proud. -Nevertheless he still denied that he would have the -courage to try to do it alone. “I guess I’d better -start in and work up,” he said smilingly. “Maybe I -could get the job of night watchman for a beginning. -I suppose there is a watchman, isn’t there?”</p> - -<p>“There’s two or three of thim.”</p> - -<p>Lanny tried not to let his disappointment show. -“That’s what I’ll do then,” he laughed. “And if I -get cold I’ll sit here by your boiler.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, there’s no watchman on this job,” said the -other carelessly. “We just put the lanterns up. -That’s enough. It’s only where there’s a good dale -of travelin’ that they do be havin’ the watchman -on the job. Well, here’s where we get busy. Come -along, you ould teakettle. The boss wants you. -So long, lad.”</p> - -<p>The little roller rumbled off up the road and -Lanny, whistling softly, wandered back the way -he had come, stopping here and there to watch -operations. But once around the corner he no -longer dawdled. He set out at his best pace instead, -went a block westward and one northward<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_93"></a>[93]</span> -and presently reached his destination, a house at -the corner of Troutman and B Streets. Dick Lovering’s -blue runabout was in front of the gate and -Dick himself was sitting on the porch with Gordon -Merrick. Gordon was a clean-cut, live-looking boy -of sixteen, a clever first-baseman and an equally -clever left end. He and Dick were close friends. -They had evidently been awaiting Lanny’s appearance, -for they spied him the moment he came into -sight and before he had reached the gate Gordon -called eagerly: “All right, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“Fine! I’m the best little chauffeur in the Street -Department!”</p> - -<p>“Better not talk so loudly,” cautioned Dick. “Do -you have to have a license to run it?”</p> - -<p>Lanny chuckled. “I guess so, but I’ve lost mine. -Say, fellows, it’s dead easy!” He seated himself -on the top step and fanned himself with his cap. -April was surprising Clearfield with a week of abnormally -warm weather and this Saturday morning -was the warmest of all. “The chap was awfully -decent to me. It seems rather a shame to take -him in the way I did. He let me get on it and -run it and showed me all about it. Why, all you -have to do——” And thereupon Lanny went into -technical details with enthusiasm and explained -until Gordon shut him off.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_94"></a>[94]</span></p> - -<p>“That’ll be about all, Lanny,” said Gordon. “As -you’re going to attend to the chauffeuring we don’t -need to know all the secrets. All we want to know -is, can it be done?”</p> - -<p>“Of course! I’m telling you——”</p> - -<p>“You’re spouting a lot of rot about steam pressure -and gauges,” interrupted Gordon firmly. -“That’s your business, not ours. We’re only passengers -and——”</p> - -<p>“Leave me out,” laughed Dick. “I refuse to ride -on anything that Lanny’s running, even a street -roller.”</p> - -<p>“There won’t any of you ride,” said Lanny. -“You’ll walk. And one of you had better go ahead -and carry a lantern in case we meet anything on -the way.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, shucks, it’s got a whistle, hasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe, but I’m not going to blow it if it has, -you silly idiot!”</p> - -<p>“Much obliged! Well, do we do it to-night or do -we not?”</p> - -<p>“We do. The journey will start at nine sharp.”</p> - -<p>“Hadn’t we better wait until later?” asked Dick. -“We don’t want to run into the Superintendent of -Streets or the fellow you were talking to.”</p> - -<p>“There’s no one out that way at night. There -are only four or five houses around there, anyway.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_95"></a>[95]</span> -We can take it to that first new cross street, whatever -its name is, and then back by Common Street to -the field. We won’t meet a soul. Besides, it’s -going to take some time to go all over that ground -with the thing. It’s slower than Dick’s runabout!”</p> - -<p>“Cast no aspersions on Eli,” warned Dick. -“We might have a race, you and I, eh? You in -your—what make is it, by the way?”</p> - -<p>Lanny chuckled. “Well, it’s not very big,” he -said, “and so I guess maybe it’s a Ford!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s going along with us?” Gordon asked.</p> - -<p>“Just Way. Seeing that he’s manager——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and we may need someone along whose dad -has a little money in case we get caught! Will you -fellows come here, then, about nine?”</p> - -<p>“You’d better leave me out of it,” said Dick. “I’m -willing to share the responsibility but I wouldn’t -be any use to you. I’m an awful blunderer when -I try to stump around in the dark.”</p> - -<p>“You could go in Eli,” said Gordon, “and take -me along.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing doing! You’ll walk ahead and lug the -lantern,” declared Lanny. “There’s no reason why -Dick should bother to come. Besides, if there did -happen to be any trouble about it afterwards, he’d -be much better out of it. A football coach isn’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_96"></a>[96]</span> -much use if he’s serving a year or two in prison.”</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose they would do to us if -they found out?” asked Gordon thoughtfully.</p> - -<p>“Oh, who cares?” Lanny laughed gaily. “After -all, we aren’t stealing the thing; we’re just borrowing -it.”</p> - -<p>“I guess Ned Burns would intercede with his -stern uncle if we were found out,” said Dick. -“It might be a good idea to take Ned along!” he -added with a laugh.</p> - -<p>“Ned nothing!” Gordon’s tone was contemptuous. -“Ned would get in front of the old thing and -get flattened out, like as not. Something would -happen to him surely. He can’t walk around the -corner without breaking a leg!”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with him now?” asked Lanny -interestedly. “Some fellow told me he was laid -up again.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you hear? Why, he was standing on a -crossing on Common Street one day last week and -an automobile came along and ran over his foot! -Everyone around declared that the chap in the -auto blew his horn loud enough to wake the dead. -But it didn’t wake Ned!”</p> - -<p>“Hurt him much?” asked Lanny, laughing.</p> - -<p>“Broke a bone in one toe, they say. Honest, I -saw Ned walk along G Street one day last winter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_97"></a>[97]</span> -and run into exactly three hydrants! He’s a wonder!”</p> - -<p>“He certainly is! And I guess we’d better leave -Ned at home. Three of us are enough, anyway. -What time does the moon show up to-night?”</p> - -<p>“It hasn’t told me,” replied Gordon gravely.</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll need it to see what we’re doing. -About ten, though, I think. Is that twelve o’clock -striking? Gee, I must run along. I promised my -mother I’d dig up a flower bed this morning. See -you later, fellows.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a second and I’ll drop you around there,” -said Dick, reaching for his crutches. “By the way, -Gordie, if you see Way tell him not to forget to -stop and get half a dozen new balls. I told him -yesterday, but he’s likely to forget it. And don’t -you forget that practice is at two-thirty to-day!”</p> - -<p>“Ay, ay, sir! Can we have a game to-day, -Dick?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I want a good hour’s work beforehand. -Turn her over, will you, Lanny? I’m going -to have a self-starter put on her some day if I can -find the money.”</p> - -<p>Eli Yale, that being the full name of the blue -runabout, rolled out of sight up B Street toward -Lanny’s home and Gordon, reminded by Lanny’s -remark of his own duties in the way of gardening,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_98"></a>[98]</span> -descended the porch and passed around the side -of the house toward the shed in search of a spade. -As he came in sight of the apple tree in the next -yard he glanced inquiringly toward the platform. -It was, however, empty.</p> - -<p>“I wonder,” muttered Gordon, “where Fudge is -keeping himself. I haven’t seen him around for -almost a week.”</p> - -<p>Could he have caught sight of his neighbor at -that moment he would probably have been somewhat -surprised.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_99"></a>[99]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br /> -<small>THE NEW SIGN</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">“Quit wobbling!” hissed Fudge.</p> - -<p>“All right, but hurry up,” returned Perry -in a hoarse whisper. “See anything?”</p> - -<p>“N-no, nothing much. There’s a table—what’s -that?”</p> - -<p>Fudge stopped abruptly and listened. Footfalls -sounded in the hall below and, releasing his clutch -on the ledge of the transom, Fudge wriggled from -Perry’s supporting arms and descended to the -floor.</p> - -<p>“Someone’s coming!” he whispered. “Beat it!”</p> - -<p>They “beat it” into the empty room across the -corridor just as the intruder’s head came into sight -above the landing. Fudge, watching through the -crack of the partly-open door, beheld a man in -overalls carrying a square of black tin. He passed -on to the door they had just retreated from, set -down his box, pushed a battered derby hat to the -back of his head and regarded the portal thoughtfully.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_100"></a>[100]</span> -Finally he produced an awl, a screwdriver -and some screws from different pockets and proceeded -to attach the square of tin to the middle -panel. The conspirators watched with vast curiosity. -There was printing on the tin, but not until -the man had completed his task and gone were -they able to read it. Then they stole out and regarded -the sign interestedly. This is what they -saw:</p> - -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="noic">MYRON ADDICKS,</p> - -<p class="p2 noic">CIVIL ENGINEER</p> -</div> - -<p>They viewed each other questioningly and doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“Civil Engineer,” mused Fudge. “That’s a -funny game. Of course, that isn’t his real name.”</p> - -<p>“Let’s get out of here,” said Perry uneasily. “He -might come back.”</p> - -<p>They went down the stairs and emerged on the -sidewalk after Fudge had peered cautiously from -the doorway. “I suppose,” muttered Fudge, “we -oughtn’t to be seen together. He may be watching -from across the street somewhere.” He viewed<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_101"></a>[101]</span> -the windows of the opposite stores and houses -suspiciously but without result. In another minute -they were seated on Perry’s front steps.</p> - -<p>“What did you see through the transom?” asked -Perry.</p> - -<p>“Nothing much. There’s a cot bed in one corner -with a screen around it, and a table with a lot -of books and things on it, and a funny table with -a sloping top, and a little table near the window, -and two or three chairs——” Fudge paused, -searching his memory. “That’s all, I guess. -There’s a closet in the corner across from the -bed, though. And, oh, yes, there was a trunk near -the door. I could just see the edge of it. I’ll bet -if we could get a look in that trunk we’d find evidence -enough, all right!”</p> - -<p>“But—but if he’s really a civil engineer,” objected -Perry, “maybe we’re all wrong about him.”</p> - -<p>Fudge jeered. “What would a civil engineer be -doing playing a piano in a movie theater? And why -would he wear a false mustache? Or dress up like -a cowboy? He’s no more of a civil engineer than -I am!”</p> - -<p>“Myron’s an unusual name,” mused Perry.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t expect him to call himself John -Smith, would you? Folks would suspect right away -that it was a—an assumed name. He’s foxy, that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_102"></a>[102]</span> -chap. I’ll just bet you anything that he’s a regular -top-notcher! And I’ll bet there’s a whaling big -reward out for him, too!”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t see that we’ve found out very -much to-day,” said Perry. “We’ve been after him -ever since half-past eight, and all we know is that -he calls himself ‘Myron Addicks, Civil Engineer’ -and has a trunk and a bed and three tables in his -room.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a whole lot,” replied Fudge emphatically. -“That sign proves that he’s a faker, doesn’t -it?”</p> - -<p>“Well, it doesn’t exactly <em>prove</em> it,” returned the -other.</p> - -<p>“Of course it does! You don’t suppose anyone -really ever had such a name as ‘Myron Addicks,’ -do you? And I guess you never saw a civil engineer -playing a piano in a theater, did you? And -what about the disguise?”</p> - -<p>There was no getting around the disguise, and -Perry hedged. “Well, anyway, we’ve got to find -out more than we have yet, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll find things out all right. And I -guess we’ve got plenty of time. That sign shows -that he means to hang around here awhile, you -see. If he was going to crack a safe within a few -days he wouldn’t go to all that trouble. I guess<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_103"></a>[103]</span> -he’s about as slick as they make them. Say, what -time is it? I’ve got to get home!”</p> - -<p>“About half-past twelve. Do we have to do any -more shadowing this afternoon?”</p> - -<p>Fudge shook his head. “No, he’ll be in the theater -from two to half-past four. Anyway, I’ve got to -think over the new evidence before we go on. We—we’ve -got to proceed very carefully. If he -should suspect anything—well, it might go hard -with us.”</p> - -<p>“I wish,” said Perry dubiously, “we could find -out if there really is a reward out for him. Only, -if there was, I don’t suppose we could get it.”</p> - -<p>“Why couldn’t we?” demanded Fudge warmly. -“All we’d have to do would be to go to the police -and say: ‘Come across with the reward and we’ll -lead you to your man!’ That’s all we’d have to -do. Of course I could go to the police station and -ask what rewards are out, but, you see, that might -make them suspicious. All they’d have to do -would be to shadow us and find out about him and—bing!—good-night, -reward!” Fudge shook his -head. “We won’t give them any chance to do us -out of it. Well, so long. Going out to the field -this afternoon?”</p> - -<p>“Are you?”</p> - -<p>Fudge nodded. “Guess so. Come on and watch<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_104"></a>[104]</span> -practice. Maybe they’ll have a game to-day. Stop -for me about two, will you?”</p> - -<p>Perry agreed and Fudge took himself off, for -once neglecting to proceed along the street with his -usual caution. If an enemy had been lurking behind -one of the maple trees, Fudge would have -stood a poor chance of escape! Perry dragged his -tired feet into the house and up the stairs, reflecting -that this game of shadowing was far more wearying -than the long, slow runs that had fallen to his -lot the last three days. He was very thankful that -work for the track candidates was to be omitted -this afternoon.</p> - -<p>However, he felt better after dinner and sitting -in the sun on the stand with Fudge and watching -baseball practice was not a very wearing occupation. -Dick Lovering put the fellows through a good -hour of batting and fielding and then picked two -teams from the more promising material and let -them play five innings. Tom Haley was in the -box for the First Team and Tom Nostrand pitched -for the Second. The First was made up about as -everyone expected it would be, with Captain Jones -at shortstop, Lanny catching, Gordon Merrick on -first, Harry Bryan on second, Will Scott on third, -George Cotner in left field, Pete Farrar in center -and Joe Browne in right. Bert Cable umpired. A<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_105"></a>[105]</span> -hundred or more fellows had come out to the field -to look on, attracted by the rumor of a line-up, and -they were rewarded by a very scrappy, hard-fought -contest. There were many errors, but, as they were -fairly apportioned to each team, they added to -rather than detracted from the interest.</p> - -<p>The Scrubs tied the score up in the third when -Lanny, seeking to kill off a runner at second, threw -the ball two yards to the left of base and two tallies -came in. At four runs each the game went into the -last of the fourth inning. Then an error by the -Second Team’s first-baseman, followed by a wild -throw to third by catcher, brought Gordon Merrick -in and placed the First Team in the lead. And there -it stayed, for, although the Second started a rally -in their half of the fifth and managed to get men -on first and second bases with but one out, Tom -Haley settled down and fanned the next batsman -and brought the game to an end by causing his -rival in the points, Tom Nostrand, to pop up an -easy fly to Warner Jones.</p> - -<p>Before Fudge and Perry were out of sight of the -field Dick’s runabout sped past with Gordon Merrick -beside the driver and Curtis Wayland perched -on the floor with his knees doubled up under his -chin. The occupants of the car waved and Way -shouted something that Perry didn’t catch.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_106"></a>[106]</span></p> - -<p>“What did he say?” Perry asked as the car sped -around the corner.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” muttered Fudge. “He’s a fresh -kid, anyway.”</p> - -<p>Fudge, however, was not quite truthful, for -Way’s remark had reached him very clearly.</p> - -<p>“I thought,” said Perry innocently, “he said -something about the springs.”</p> - -<p>Fudge viewed him suspiciously, but, discovering -his countenance apparently free of guile, only -grunted.</p> - -<p>In the runabout the three boys were discussing -the afternoon’s performance. “It didn’t go badly -for a first game,” hazarded Way. “But wasn’t -that a weird peg of Lanny’s?”</p> - -<p>“There were several weird things about that -game,” said Gordon. “My hitting was one of -them. We’ll have to do better next Saturday if -we’re going to beat Norrisville.”</p> - -<p>“Who said we were going to?” asked Dick -mildly.</p> - -<p>Gordon laughed. “Well, then, give them a fight,” -he corrected.</p> - -<p>“Oh, we’ll do that, I guess,” Dick replied. “Another -week of practice will make a difference. We’ll -get rid of some of the crowd about Wednesday and -then we’ll have room to turn around out there.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_107"></a>[107]</span> -Warner thinks we ought to keep two full nines for -the First, but I don’t see the use of it if we have -the Second to play with. What do you think?”</p> - -<p>“No use at all,” said Way. “Just a lot of soreheads -sitting around on the bench and kicking because -they can’t play every minute. Besides, there -aren’t enough good ball players in the lot to make -three teams.”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t think there are. That’s what I told -Warner. He wanted to pick out eighteen or twenty -and then make up the Second from what was -left.”</p> - -<p>“A peach of a Second it would be,” jeered Gordon.</p> - -<p>“I guess we’ll stick to last year’s idea,” continued -the coach, “and keep about sixteen fellows, including -pitchers. I wish, by the way, we had another -good twirler. We’ll have to find one somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“Joe Browne can pitch a little, Dick,” Way -suggested. “You might see what you can do with -him. He hasn’t got much, I guess, but a pretty -fair straight ball and a sort of out-curve, but he -might learn.”</p> - -<p>“All right, we’ll see what we can do with him. -A player who can work in the field and the box too -is a pretty handy chap to have around. If he can -do well enough to start some of the early games<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_108"></a>[108]</span> -we won’t have to keep more than fifteen players. -Here you are, Way. Everything all right for to-night?”</p> - -<p>“I guess so. Lanny’s going to leave the big gate -open so we can get the thing in. I hope he doesn’t -forget it. I’ll call him up at supper time and -find out. Sure you don’t want to come along, -Dick?”</p> - -<p>“Quite sure. I’d only be in the way. And you’ll -have plenty without me. Good luck to you. Don’t -get caught!”</p> - -<p>“If we do we’ll get you to bail us out,” laughed -Way, as he swung the gate to behind him. “Nine -o’clock sharp, Gordon!”</p> - -<p>Gordon nodded and the car went on again. “I’m -rather afraid you’ll get nabbed,” remarked Dick. -“But I don’t suppose anyone would be nasty about -it. If I were you fellows I’d cut and run, Gordie, -if anything happened.”</p> - -<p>“I suppose we will,” Gordon replied. “If we do -I hope Lanny will turn off the engine before he -jumps!”</p> - -<p>“Well, drop around in the morning and let me -hear about it,” said the other as Gordon jumped -out at his gate. “If I don’t see an announcement -of your arrest in the paper I’ll take it that you got -through all right.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_109"></a>[109]</span></p> - -<p>“You won’t see any announcement of my arrest,” -laughed Gordon. “I can run faster than any cop -on the force, Dick!”</p> - -<p>“Well, see that you do! So long!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_110"></a>[110]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br /> -<small>THE BORROWED ROLLER</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Some twelve years before a large tract of -marsh and meadow lying west of the town -and southeast of the river where it turns -toward the sea had been purchased by Mr. Jonathan -Brent. At the time no one conceived that any of -the land except possibly a few blocks just beyond -A Street would ever be marketable as residence lots. -But Mr. Brent had gradually filled in, driving back -the twisting creeks that meandered about the land, -until many acres had been redeemed. Several new -streets were laid out and Mr. Brent, retaining for -his own occupancy a full block between Sawyer and -Troutman Streets, had built himself a very handsome -residence. “Brentwood” was quite the finest -mansion in Clearfield. When finished it was two -blocks beyond the westernmost house in town, but -it did not remain so long. Brent’s Addition proved -popular and many citizens bought lots there and -built, in some cases abandoning homes in the middle<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_111"></a>[111]</span> -of town that were already being elbowed by -business blocks. Between Main and Common -Streets, three blocks north of “Brentwood,” two -squares had been left undivided and this ground -was now the High School Athletic Field. West of -that, building had not progressed to any great extent -as yet, although a few houses were scattered -about the recently-made area. It was in this locality -at about half-past nine that Saturday -night Lanny, Gordon, Way and one other found the -street rollers.</p> - -<p>The fourth member of the expedition was Morris -Brent. Morris, it seemed, had recalled the fact -that he had left a tennis racket and some balls on -the court at the side of the house and had gone -out to bring them in. On his return he had chanced -to look toward the front gate and had glimpsed -the three figures going west along Troutman Street. -There was nothing extraordinary about that, but -Morris had been impressed with a certain stealthiness -displayed by the trio, and had also caught -sight of a tow head under the dim light of a street -lamp. Thereupon Morris had abandoned racket -and balls on the front steps and hastened after the -conspirators, finding that his surmise as to the -identity of the light-haired youth was correct. His -advent was welcomed, the purpose of the expedition<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_112"></a>[112]</span> -explained to him and the trio became a quartette.</p> - -<p>Save Morris not a person was glimpsed from -Gordon’s house to their destination. The only person -they were likely to meet was the policeman -on that beat, and, since he had to cover a deal of -territory, and was known to have a partiality for -the better lighted district nearest town, the boys -considered their chances of evading him were excellent. -Making certain that there was no watchman -about, they approached the smaller of the two -rollers and considered it. It would have to be -turned around and run back a half-block to the -next street, north two blocks and then east to the -Common Street side of the athletic field. The first -difficulty that presented itself was that, contrary to -the statement of the engineer, the fire under the -boiler was not banked. In fact, there was very -little fire there. This was explained by Morris. -Being Saturday, he said, the engineers had left -their fires to go out so they would not have to tend -them until Monday morning.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t that the dickens?” asked Lanny. He lifted -down a red lantern that hung from the engine and -dubiously examined the steam gauge. “About ten -pounds,” he muttered. “She won’t stir a step on -that!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_113"></a>[113]</span></p> - -<p>“Guess, then, we’d better try it some other time,” -said Way.</p> - -<p>“No, sir, we’re going to do it to-night,” responded -Lanny, after a moment’s consideration. “If we -wait until the first of the week the field may dry -off, and we want to roll it while it’s still moist. -The only thing to do is to get this fire going and -make steam. It’ll take some time, but we can do -it.”</p> - -<p>“Easy,” agreed Morris. Being newly admitted -to the conspiracy, Morris was filled with enthusiasm. -“Set the lantern down, Lanny, and I’ll shovel some -coal on.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I’ll rake it a bit first, though.” This -was done and then, from the bin, Morris got several -shovelfuls of soft coal and sprinkled it gingerly -over the dying fire. Drafts were opened and the -quartette sat down to wait. Fortunately, the night -was fairly warm, otherwise the ensuing period -might have been distinctly unpleasant, for this -newer part of Brent’s Addition was beautifully -level, and what breeze was stirring came across the -land unimpeded by anything larger than the two-inch -shade trees along the incipient sidewalks. They -talked in low tones, keeping a careful watch meanwhile -for the policeman. The last street light was -at the end of the block and so, save for the lanterns<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_114"></a>[114]</span> -left by the workmen, they were in the darkness. -Lanny, though, pointed to the sky back of the town. -“The moon’s coming up,” he said, “and I’d like -mighty well to be inside the field before it gets in -its work.”</p> - -<p>“Same here,” agreed Gordon. The next instant -he uttered a cautioning “<em>S-s-sh!</em>” and flattened himself -out against the side of the roller. Half a block -away the officer on the beat had suddenly emerged -from the shadows and was standing under the light, -gazing, as it seemed to the boys, most interestedly -toward them. There was a minute of suspense. -“Think he saw us?” whispered Gordon.</p> - -<p>“Search me,” said Lanny. “I wish we’d had -the sense to put the lantern back on the other side -where we got it. Here he comes!”</p> - -<p>The officer had begun a slow but determined approach.</p> - -<p>“Keep in the shadows,” advised Lanny, “and beat -it back to the other roller! Don’t let him see -you!”</p> - -<p>Silently, like four indistinct shadows, the boys -slipped from their places and, keeping as best they -could the dark bulk of the roller between them and -the approaching policeman, scuttled up the road to -where the larger machine stood. There was one -doubtful moment when the light of the red lantern<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_115"></a>[115]</span> -fell upon them just before they dodged behind the -big roller.</p> - -<p>“He will see the fire and know that something’s -up,” whispered Way. “Let’s skip, fellows!”</p> - -<p>“Hold on a minute,” advised Lanny. “Maybe he -won’t. Wait and see.”</p> - -<p>They peered anxiously around the edges of the -big wheel behind which they were hidden. The -policeman was dimly visible as he walked about the -smaller roller. Finally he stopped and swung his -stick a moment, picked up the red lantern and set -it in the road beside the machine and, at last, slowly -ambled back along the street. Breathlessly and -hopefully they watched him reach the corner and -disappear without a backward look. For a long two -minutes after that they listened to the sound of his -footsteps dying away on the new granolithic sidewalk. -Then:</p> - -<p>“Saved!” murmured Morris dramatically.</p> - -<p>“Come on,” said Lanny. “We’ll have to get -that old shebang going even if we have to push it! -The moon will be up in a few minutes.”</p> - -<p>When they got back there was an encouraging -purring sound from the engine and, without disturbing -the lantern, Lanny borrowed a match from -Morris and read the gauge. “Forty-something,” -he muttered as the light flickered out. “We’ll try<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_116"></a>[116]</span> -her, anyway. Sneak back there to the corner, Gordon, -and see if you can hear or see anything of the -cop. And hurry back. I’ll get her swung around, -anyway.”</p> - -<p>Gordon scouted off and Lanny, while the other -two boys held their breath anxiously, pulled a -lever here, pushed something there and turned the -wheel. There was a hiss, a jar, a <em>clank</em> and a rumble -and the roller slowly moved away from the curbing.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“She starts, she moves, she seems to feel</div> - <div class="verse indent1">The thrill of life along her keel!”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class="noi">murmured Morris poetically as Lanny sought excitedly -for the reversing lever in the darkness. -The roller stopped suddenly and as suddenly began -to back. Way, who had followed close behind, had -just time to jump aside with a suppressed yelp before -the ponderous machine struck the curb with an -alarming jolt.</p> - -<p>“Keep her head down!” exclaimed Morris. -“Don’t let her throw you, Lanny!”</p> - -<p>“Give me that lantern up here,” panted the amateur -engineer. “I can’t see what I’m doing.”</p> - -<p>Way handed the lantern to him and he hung it -on a projection in front of him. After that progress -was less erratic. It required much maneuvering to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_117"></a>[117]</span> -get the roller headed the other way, but Lanny at -last accomplished the difficult feat. Gordon returned -to report that all was quiet. More coal was -put into the furnace and the journey begun. Lanny’s -plan to have someone walk ahead with a lantern -was abandoned. Instead the light was put out -and Lanny trusted to the faint radiance of the -moon which was not yet quite above the house-tops. -The corner was negotiated without difficulty and the -Flying Juggernaut, as Gordon dubbed the machine, -swung into a smooth, newly-surfaced street over -which she moved easily if not silently. Gordon and -Morris strode ahead to watch for obstructions and -give warning while Way, as a sort of rear guard, -remained behind in case pursuit appeared from that -direction.</p> - -<p>What each of the four marveled at was why -the entire town did not turn out to discover the -reason for the appalling noise! Perhaps the sound -of the steam roller’s passage was not as deafening -as they imagined, but to them it seemed that -the thumping and rattling and groaning could easily -be heard on the other side of town! If it was, -though, nothing came of it. Slowly but with a sort -of blind inexorability quite awesome the Juggernaut -proceeded on her way. Lanny, his hand on the -lever that would bring her to a stop, stood at his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_118"></a>[118]</span> -post like a hero, ready, however, to cut and run at -the first alarm. It seemed the better part of an -hour to him before the two blocks were traversed -and Morris came back to announce that Common -Street was reached. Over went the wheel and the -Flying Juggernaut, grazing the curbing with a -nerve-destroying rasp of steel against stone, turned -toward the side entrance of the field. On the left -now were several houses. Lights shone from windows. -The boys held their breath as the last leg -of the journey began. Suppose that, hearing the -noise and viewing the unusual sight of a steam roller -parading through the street at half-past ten o’clock, -some busy-body should telephone to the police station! -Morris didn’t like to think of it, and so, naturally, -he mentioned it to Gordon. Gordon assured -him that the contingency had already occurred to -him and that if he saw a front door open he meant -to disappear from the scene with unprecedented -celerity, or words to that effect!</p> - -<p>But the suspense ended at last, for there, on the -right, a break in the shadowed darkness of the -high fence, was the open gate. Lanny swung the -roller far to the left and turned toward the entrance. -Then, however, a problem confronted them, -which was how to get it over the curbing! They -hadn’t planned for that. The sidewalk was a good<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_119"></a>[119]</span> -six inches above the street level, and, bringing the -Juggernaut to a stop—the sudden silence was absolutely -uncanny!—Lanny invited ideas. Morris -offered the desperate plan of backing the roller to -the far side of the street and putting on all steam. -“Sort of lift her over, Lanny,” he urged. Lanny -told him he was an idiot; that this thing was a -steam roller and not a horse. In the end Morris, -Way and Gordon went inside to look for planks or -beams to lay along the curb, while Lanny, not too -contented with his task, remained to guard the -roller. They were gone a long time, or so, at least, -it seemed to the engineer, but returned at last with -enough lumber of varying lengths and thicknesses -to answer the purpose. In the light of the inquiring -moon, which was now sailing well above the -tree-tops, they snuggled the planks and joists against -the curbing, forming an abrupt but practical runway, -and, giving the Juggernaut all the steam there -was, Lanny persuaded her to take the incline and -to roll majestically through the gate and into the -field. No sooner was she inside than Gordon swung -the gate shut and secured it, and four boys, with one -accord, drew four long, deep-drawn breaths of relief!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_120"></a>[120]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br /> -<small>GORDON DESERTS HIS POST</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">After that they listened cautiously, but heard -only the soft sizzling of the engine which had -a contented sound as though the Flying Juggernaut -was quite as rejoiced at the successful outcome -of the venture as they were! More coal was -put on, the grate was raked and Lanny contentedly -announced that there was a sixty-pound head -of steam on. By this time the field was bathed -in moonlight save where the stands cast their black -shadows, and the task remaining could not fail for -lack of light. Forward moved the Juggernaut and -there began the work of smoothing out the inequalities -of Brent Field. Perhaps had Lanny realized -the size of the task he would never have ventured -on it. Back and forth, commencing at the infield -end, rumbled and clanked the roller, each time -covering some four feet of sward and gravel. An -hour passed and they were still only as far as first -and third base. Gordon voiced doubts.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_121"></a>[121]</span></p> - -<p>“At this rate, Lanny, we won’t reach the fence -back there before breakfast time. Can’t you make -her go any faster?”</p> - -<p>“No, I can’t,” replied the engineer shortly, “and -if you don’t like the way I’m doing this suppose you -take a whack at it yourself.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks. I’d probably run her right through -the stand over there. I’m not criticising your -handling of the thing, Lanny, but it’s getting a bit -chilly and I’m sleepy and——”</p> - -<p>“Go on home then. I guess I can do this all right -alone.”</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t be grouchy,” said Way. “After -all, you’re the only one of us who’s getting any -fun out of it. Just walking back and forth like -this isn’t awfully exciting. Gee, I wish I had my -sweater!”</p> - -<p>“Tell you what,” said Morris. “I’ll beat it down -town and get some hot coffee!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, noble youth!” applauded Gordon. “Get a -gallon of it, Morris! And some sandwiches——”</p> - -<p>“Or hot-dogs,” interpolated Way.</p> - -<p>“With plenty of mustard!”</p> - -<p>“Who’s got any money? I don’t think I’ve got -more than fifteen or twenty cents. Dig down, fellows.”</p> - -<p>They “dug” and a minute later Morris was on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_122"></a>[122]</span> -his way with the sufficient sum of eighty cents -jingling in his pocket. Cheered by the anticipation -of hot coffee and food, the others were restored to -good humor. Lanny said he guessed the old concern -would get along just as fast if they all got on -it. They tried it and could see no difference in the -rate of progress, and being near the boiler was a lot -warmer than walking along in the little breeze that -had come up with the moon. At Gordon’s suggestion, -Lanny instructed him in running the machine -and, after a few trips back and forth, he took -Lanny’s place at the throttle while the latter was -glad to get down and stretch his legs. They completed -the diamond and started on the outfield. -Lanny declared that the work was a huge success, -that the ground where they had rolled was as hard -and level as a billiard table.</p> - -<p>“Of course,” he added, “it would be a lot better -if we could go over it two or three times.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said Gordon hurriedly, “but we’re not -going over it two or three times, you simple idiot! -Once is enough. My folks hate to have me late for -breakfast!”</p> - -<p>“One good thing,” said Way, “is that to-morrow—no, -to-day—is Sunday and we have breakfast -later.”</p> - -<p>“So do we,” replied Gordon, “but I’m wondering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_123"></a>[123]</span> -if I can sneak in without being caught. Wish I’d -thought to unlock the porch window. I supposed -we’d be all done with this by twelve!”</p> - -<p>“If we get it done by four we’ll be lucky, I guess,” -said Lanny. “There comes Morris.”</p> - -<p>“I could only get a quart,” panted Morris as he -came up. “The chap in the lunch wagon was afraid -he’d run short if he gave me any more. Here are -some paper cups; got those at the drug store. And -here’s your grub; eight ham and three hot-dog sandwiches.”</p> - -<p>“Three?” ejaculated Gordon.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I ate one on the way. Stop your old pushcart -till we feed.”</p> - -<p>“Better keep her going,” said Lanny. “We can -eat <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en voyage</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t get any of that,” replied Morris flippantly. -“They were all out of it. Hold your cup, -Way. Is it hot? I came back as fast as I could, -but——”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you worry,” sputtered Way. “It’s hot -enough to scald you. Good, too! M-mm!”</p> - -<p>For several minutes conversation ceased and only -the rumble and clank of the roller broke the silence. -Then, when the last crumb was gone and the paper -cups had been added to the flames, there were four -contented grunts. “That’s better,” said Lanny.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_124"></a>[124]</span> -“I’m good for all night now. Let me have her, -Gordon.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a bit. I’m having too good a time. What -time is it?”</p> - -<p>“About quarter to one,” answered Way, studying -the face of his watch in the moonlight.</p> - -<p>“That’s not so bad. How much more have we -got, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“I’d say we’d done just about half,” was the reply. -“Better stop her and coal up a little.”</p> - -<p>“No stops this trip,” answered Gordon. “Coal -ahead. I’ll get over here.”</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter with letting me work her a -bit?” asked Morris, when the door was shut again. -“Seeing that I saved your lives——”</p> - -<p>“Morris, old pal,” replied Gordon, gravely, “this -requires science and experience. I’d let you take -her in a minute, but if anything happened to her -I’d be held responsible. You can be fireman, though, -and shovel coal.”</p> - -<p>“Next time you can get your own coffee,” grumbled -Morris. “I had just enough money, by the -way, to pay the lunch wagon chap, but I had to -charge the drinking cups to you, Gordon.”</p> - -<p>“That’s more than I could do at Castle’s,” -laughed Gordon. “Whoa! Gee, I didn’t know that -track was so close!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_125"></a>[125]</span></p> - -<p>“Get out of there before you go through the -fence,” said Lanny, pushing him aside. “Do you -suppose we’d ought to roll the track, too, fellows?”</p> - -<p>A chorus of “No’s” answered him. “Wouldn’t -do the least bit of good,” added Way. “The track’s -in rotten shape anyhow. I don’t see why we have -to have the old thing. It’s only in the way. If you -have to go back for a long fly it’s a safe bet you -fall over the rim. What we ought to do is sod it -over and——”</p> - -<p>“Tell that to Guy Felker,” advised Gordon. -“Have you done any work with the team yet, -Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“I’ve had a couple of trials just to see what I -could do. Guy is after me to give him three afternoons -a week. I suppose I’ll have to pretty soon.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, bother the Track Team,” said Way. “It -won’t amount to anything and you’ll lose baseball -practice. Cut it out this year, Lanny.”</p> - -<p>“Not much! If it came to a show-down I’d -rather run the hundred and two-twenty than play -ball. And don’t you be mistaken about the team -being no good. We’re going to have a mighty good -team this year and we’re going to simply run away -from Springdale. You wait and see.”</p> - -<p>“What of it if we do?” grumbled Way. “Who -cares?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_126"></a>[126]</span></p> - -<p>“Most everyone except you, you old pudding-head,” -responded Gordon. “Want me to take her -awhile now, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you kindly. Guy’s having a pretty -hard time to get fellows interested in the track, and -that’s a fact, but he’s going to win out all right. -Don’t go around talking like that, Way, because -it isn’t fair. Just because you don’t care -for track sports, you needn’t discourage other fellows.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I haven’t said anything to discourage anyone. -For that matter, if Guy wants to get a team -together I wish him luck. But I don’t think there’s -room for football and baseball and track, too. We -ought to—to concentrate.”</p> - -<p>“Rot! Let’s beat Springdale at every old thing -we can. Them’s my sentiments,” announced Morris. -“If we could do ’em up at tiddley-winks I’d be -in favor of starting a team!”</p> - -<p>“And I suppose you’d play left wink on it,” -laughed Way.</p> - -<p>It was well after three o’clock before the Flying -Juggernaut completed her last trip across the field -and the moon was well down toward the west. Four -very tired boys—and sleepy, too, now that the -effects of the coffee were working off—rolled across -to the gate, unbarred it, rolled through, closed it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_127"></a>[127]</span> -behind them, and set off again along Common -Street. Somehow they cared less about discovery -now and didn’t even take the trouble to lower their -voices as they rumbled past the darkened houses. -Morris announced that they had made a mistake in -the name of the steam roller; that its right name -was “Reverberating Reginald.” The others were -too sleepy to argue about it, however.</p> - -<p>Gordon, who had taken Lanny’s place at the -wheel, turned into the cross street and headed Reginald -toward his berth. They didn’t take the precaution -to send scouters ahead now, and perhaps it -wasn’t worth while since the street lay plainly -before them for several blocks. And perhaps what -happened would have happened just the same. -Lanny always insisted that it wouldn’t, but never -could prove his point. At all events, what did happen -was this:</p> - -<p>Just as they had trundled over the crossing at -Main Street a voice reached them above the noise -of the roller and a figure suddenly stepped into the -road a few yards ahead. One very startled glance -at the figure was sufficient. With a fine unanimity -four forms detached themselves from the sheltering -gloom of the steam roller and fled back along the -road. Possibly the policeman was so surprised at -the sudden result of his challenge that pursuit did<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_128"></a>[128]</span> -not occur to him, or, possibly, the continued stately -advance of the steam roller in his direction disconcerted -him. At all events the boys became mere -flying shapes in the distance before the officer took -action. When he did he stepped nimbly out of the -path of the roller and remarked stentoriously as it -rumbled by:</p> - -<p>“Hi, there! What’s this? Where you goin’ -with that roller, hey?”</p> - -<p>As there was no response he went after it, discovering -to his surprise that the reason he had -received no reply was that there was no one there -to offer it! What occurred subsequently would -have hugely diverted a spectator had there been -one, which there wasn’t. On and on went the roller, -moving further and further toward the sidewalk, -and on and on trotted the policeman, making ineffectual -efforts to board it. He had a very healthy -respect for engines and wasn’t at all certain that -this one might not resent his company. At last, -however, desperation gave him courage and he -stumbled onto the platform and began to pull, push -or twist every movable thing he could lay hands -on. The results were disconcerting. A cloud of -white steam burst forth from somewhere with an -alarming rush and hiss, a shrill, excruciating whistle -shattered the night and a tiny stream of very hot<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_129"></a>[129]</span> -water sprayed down his sleeve! But the roller kept -right on rolling, majestically, remorselessly!</p> - -<p>The policeman gave up in despair and rapped -loudly with his club for assistance. At that moment -the roller, heedless of his appeal, reached the intersection -of Lafayette Street and, no longer restrained -by the curbing against which it had been grinding, -angled purposefully across and collided violently -with a lamp-post. The lamp-post gave appreciably -under the unexpected assault and the light flared -wildly and expired. The steam roller, although its -further progress was barred, kept on revolving its -big wheels and the policeman, picking himself up, -rescued his helmet from the coal-box and hurried -from the scene.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_130"></a>[130]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br /> -<small>ON DICK’S PORCH</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">“After that,” said Gordon, “I don’t know just -what did happen. I was too busy getting -away from there to look back. I cut across -an open field and got into the shadow of the fence -on Louise Street and pretty soon Way came along. -Where Lanny and Morris got to I don’t know. -Maybe they’re still running!”</p> - -<p>It was Sunday morning and Gordon and Dick -were seated on the latter’s porch. Dick, who had -listened to his friend’s narration with much amusement, -laughed again.</p> - -<p>“And you forgot to turn off the steam before -you jumped, eh?”</p> - -<p>“No, I didn’t exactly forget to,” replied Gordon -judicially. “I thought of it, all right, but I couldn’t -locate the throttle thing. You see, it all happened -so suddenly that there wasn’t time to do much but -run. That silly cop must have been standing in -front of the little shed the contractors put up out<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_131"></a>[131]</span> -there last year and we never suspected he was anywhere -around until he jumped out on us about -twenty feet ahead. He shouldn’t have done that. -He might have caused us heart-failure.”</p> - -<p>“Haven’t you been over yet to see what happened -to the roller?” Dick asked.</p> - -<p>“I have not,” was the emphatic reply. “Maybe -this afternoon I’ll sort of happen out there, but it -might look suspicious if I went this morning. I -suppose there’ll be a dickens of a row about it. -There wasn’t anything in the paper, was there?” -Gordon glanced at the Sunday <cite>Reporter</cite> on Dick’s -knees.</p> - -<p>“No, but I suppose the paper was out before it -happened. Do you think the policeman recognized -any of you?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. He might. We didn’t give him -much chance, but, still, it was broad moonlight. -Gee, I’d like to know what happened to that -roller!”</p> - -<p>“Call up the police station and ask,” suggested -Dick gravely.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I will!” But Gordon’s tone contradicted -the statement. “Guess I’ll call up Lanny and see if -he got home. I had a fine time getting in. There -wasn’t a window unlatched and I had to squirm -through the coal hole. I made a horrible noise<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_132"></a>[132]</span> -when I dropped, too. I thought the coal would -never get through sliding!”</p> - -<p>“Did you get caught?”</p> - -<p>Gordon shook his head doubtfully. “I guess -mother knows, all right, but I don’t think dad does. -Anyway, he didn’t say anything. It was fierce -having to get up at eight o’clock! I felt like a—a——”</p> - -<p>“You still look like it,” laughed Dick. “Well, -anyway, you got the job done, and that’s something, -even if you do go to jail for a while!”</p> - -<p>“What do you suppose they’ll do?” asked Gordon -uneasily.</p> - -<p>“Oh, I don’t believe they’ll be hard on you. -Maybe a small fine and a month in jail.”</p> - -<p>“Quit your kidding! If I go to jail I’ll see that -you come, too.”</p> - -<p>“I’ve always understood that there was honor -even amongst thieves,” responded the other, “but I -see that I was—hello, see who’s here!”</p> - -<p>It was Lanny who closed the gate behind him -and walked up the short path with a weary grin on -his face. “Good morning,” he said, as he sank to -the top step and leaned his head against the pillar. -“Also good-night.” He closed his eyes and snored -loudly.</p> - -<p>“What became of you?” asked Gordon.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_133"></a>[133]</span></p> - -<p>“What became of me?” Lanny opened his eyes -protestingly. “When do you mean?”</p> - -<p>“Last night, of course. Where did you run to?”</p> - -<p>“Last night? Run? I don’t understand you. I -went to bed quite early last night and slept very -nicely. Once I thought I heard a noise, a sort of -jarring, rumbling noise, but I paid no attention to -it. What a beautiful morning it is! ‘O Beauteous -Spring, thou art——’” His head settled back -against the pillar again.</p> - -<p>The others laughed, and Dick remarked soberly: -“I suppose you’ve heard that they got Morris?”</p> - -<p>Lanny opened his eyes once more and winked -gravely. “I just had him on the phone a few minutes -ago.” He smiled wanly. “He couldn’t get in -the house when he got back and had to sleep out -in the stable in a carriage.”</p> - -<p>“How about you?” asked Gordon.</p> - -<p>Lanny waved a hand carelessly. “No trouble at -all. Merely shinned up a water-spout and got in -the linen closet window. Then I fell over a carpet-sweeper -and went to bed. I shall insist on having -a latch-key after this.”</p> - -<p>“But where the dickens did you and Morris run -to?” insisted Gordon. “I never saw you once after -I turned into the field.”</p> - -<p>“By that time I was shinning up the spout,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_134"></a>[134]</span> -replied Lanny. “You see, I had a fine start on you, -Gordie. I don’t know just what my time was for -the distance, but I’ll bet it was mighty good. I’m -pretty sure that I did the first two-twenty yards in -something under twenty seconds! As for Morris, -I never saw him. He says he fell over something -and lay in the grass for about half an hour and then -went home by way of the river. Something of a -detour, that!”</p> - -<p>“Well, tell me one thing, Lanny,” said Dick. -“Did the rolling do the field any good?”</p> - -<p>Lanny became almost animated. “It certainly -did! Want to go over and have a look at it?” Dick -shook his head. “Well, it made a lot of difference. -Of course, as I told the others, it ought to have been -gone over two or three times to get it in real good -shape, but it’s at least a hundred per cent. better -than it was before. I was afraid it might be too -dry, but it wasn’t. That old roller just squashed it -right down in great style. I think we broke the -board around the track in a few places, but it was -pretty rotten anyway.”</p> - -<p>“That’s good; I mean about the field. As I just -said to Gordie, if you fellows have got to go to jail -it’s sort of a satisfaction that you accomplished -something. I’ll send you fruit and old magazines -now and then, and a month will soon pass.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_135"></a>[135]</span></p> - -<p>“Is that really and truly so? Your kindness——”</p> - -<p>“And I told <em>him</em>,” interrupted Gordon, “that if -we went to jail I’d see that he went along.”</p> - -<p>“Naturally.” Lanny hugged his knees and smiled -pleasantly at Dick. “We couldn’t be happy without -you, Dickums. Yes, you’ll have to go along even -if it’s necessary for us to swear that you were the -ring-leader. I’d be sorry for your folks, Dick, -but——” Lanny shook his head inexorably. Then: -“By the by, what about Way?”</p> - -<p>“I left him at the corner of Common Street,” -replied Gordon. “I guess he managed all right.”</p> - -<p>“He ought to have; he’s the manager,” said -Lanny, with a yawn. “My word, fellows, but I’m -sleepy! And I had to pretend to be Little Bright-Eyes -at breakfast, too. I know I’ll fall asleep in -church and snore!”</p> - -<p>“Do you think that cop recognized us, Lanny?” -Gordon asked.</p> - -<p>“Don’t ask me. If he did we’ll know about it -soon enough. Look here, whose idea was it, anyway? -Who got us into this scrape?”</p> - -<p>“Of course, you didn’t,” answered Gordon -gravely, “and I’m certain I didn’t. I guess it was -Dick, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>Lanny seemed about to assent until Dick reached -for a crutch. Then: “No, I don’t think it was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_136"></a>[136]</span> -Dick,” he replied. “You have only to look at his -innocent countenance to know that he would never -do such a thing. Guess it was Morris. He isn’t -here, and, besides, his dad’s got enough influence -and coin to buy him off. I’m certain it was Morris.”</p> - -<p>“So it was; I remember now. Another time we’ll -know better than to listen to his evil suggestions.” -And Gordon sighed deeply.</p> - -<p>“He’s older than we are, too, which makes it -more—more deplorable.”</p> - -<p>“You have a wonderful command of the English -language this morning,” laughed Dick. “I’d love -to listen to you some time when you’re feeling fresh -and quite wide-awake!”</p> - -<p>“Thank you for those few kind words,” responded -Lanny gratefully. “I shan’t attempt to -conceal from you the fact that I am slightly drowsy -to-day. Well, I’ve got to go back and report for -church parade. You coming, Gordie?”</p> - -<p>“I suppose so.” Gordon got up with a sigh.</p> - -<p>“Come around after dinner,” suggested Dick, -“and we’ll get in Eli and take a ride. We might -roll around to the scene of the late unpleasantness -and see what finally happened to that roller!”</p> - -<p>“All right,” Lanny agreed, “only don’t display -too great an interest in the thing when you get there. -Let us be—er—circumspect.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_137"></a>[137]</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t like the sound of that word,” murmured -Gordon; “that is, the first and last syllables! Change -it to ‘cautious,’ Lanny.”</p> - -<p>“Very well, let us be cautious. Farewell, Dickums!”</p> - -<p>Their visit in the runabout to Brent’s Addition -that afternoon proved unsatisfactory. The steam -roller, looking as innocent as you like, was back -where they had found it and there was nothing to -tell what had happened subsequent to their hurried -departure. It was not until Monday morning that -they had their curiosity satisfied, and then it was -the <cite>Reporter</cite> that did it. The <cite>Reporter</cite> had chosen -to treat the story with humor, heading it</p> - -<p class="noic adauthor">ROAD ROLLER RUNS AMUCK!</p> - -<p class="noi">It told how Officer Suggs, while patrolling his -lonely beat on the outskirts of our fair -city, had had his attention attracted by mysterious -sounds on Aspen Avenue. The intrepid -guardian of the law had thereupon concealed himself -in ambush just in time to behold, coming toward -him, one of the Street Department’s steam -rollers. Ordered to stop and give an account of -itself, the roller had promptly attacked the officer. -The latter, with rare presence of mind, leaped to a<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_138"></a>[138]</span> -place of safety and the roller, emitting a roar of -rage and disappointment, tried to escape. Then followed -a vivid account of the pursuit, the disorderly -conduct of the roller, the wanton attack on the lamp-post -and the final subjugation and arrest of the -marauder, an arrest not consummated until several -members of the police force and employees of the -Street Department had been hurried to the scene. -It made a good story and at least five of the <cite>Reporter’s</cite> -readers enjoyed it vastly. To their relief -the paper ended with the encouraging statement that -“so far the police are unable to offer any satisfactory -explanation of the affair. Superintendent -Burns, of the Street Department, hints that some -person or persons unknown had a hand in the matter, -but to the <cite>Reporter</cite> it looks like a remarkable -case of inanimate depravity.”</p> - -<p>And that ended the matter, save that eventually -the true story leaked out, as such things will, and -became generally known throughout the school. -Whether it ever reached the ears of Superintendent -Burns is not known. If it did he took no action.</p> - -<p>Brent Field profited in any case. That Monday -afternoon the improvement in the condition of the -ground was so noticeable that many fellows remarked -on it. Fortunately, though, they were quite -satisfied with the casual explanation that it had been<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_139"></a>[139]</span> -“fixed up a bit,” and for some reason the marks left -by the passage of the roller, plainly visible, failed to -connect themselves with the story in that morning’s -paper. Perhaps the principal reason for this was -that very few of the fellows read anything in the -<cite>Reporter</cite> outside of the sporting page. The infield, -and especially the base paths, was more level and -smoother than it had ever been, and during practice -that afternoon there were far fewer errors that -could be laid to inequalities of the surface. To be -sure, when Harry Bryan let a ball bound through -his hands he promptly picked up a pebble and disgustedly -tossed it away, but the excuse didn’t carry -the usual conviction.</p> - -<p>Practice went well that afternoon. Fielding was -cleaner and it really looked to Dick as though his -charges were at last finding their batting eyes. -Bryan, Cotner and Merrick all hit the ball hard in -the four-inning contest with the practice team, the -former getting two two-baggers in two turns at bat -and Cotner connecting with one of Tom Nostrand’s -offerings for a three-base hit. The First Team had -no trouble in winning the decision, the score being -5 to 1. Meanwhile, on the cinders the Track Team -candidates were busy, and over on the Main Street -side of the field, where the pits were located, the -jumpers and weight-throwers were trying themselves<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_140"></a>[140]</span> -out as extensively as the ever-watchful -“Skeet” would allow. Fudge Shaw, looking heroic—and -slightly rotund—in a brand-new white shirt, -trunks and spiked shoes, was taking his turn with -the shot. So far only three other youths had chosen -to contest with him for the mastery in this event, -but unfortunately for Fudge two of the three were -older fellows with experience and brawn. One, -Harry Partridge, a senior and a tackle on the football -team, was in command of the shot-putters. -Partridge was a good sort usually, Fudge considered, -but to-day he was certainly impatient and censorious, -not to mention sarcastic!</p> - -<p>“Look here, Fudge,” he asked after the tyro had -let the shot roll off the side of his hand and dribble -away for a scant twelve feet in a direction perilously -close to a passing broad-jumper, “who ever told you -you could put the shot, anyway? You don’t know -the first thing about it! Now come back here and -let me tell you for the fiftieth time that the shot -leaves your hand over the tips of your fingers and -doesn’t roll off the side. I’m not saying anything -just now about your spring or your shoulder work. -All I’m trying to do is to get it into that ivory knob -of yours that the shot rests <em>here</em> and that it leaves -your hand <em>so</em>! Now cut out all the movements and -let me see you hold it right and get it away right<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_141"></a>[141]</span>. -Thank you, that’s very rotten! Go ahead, Thad. -Try not to foul this time. You start too far forward. -That’s better! Did you see—look here, -Shaw, if you’re out here to put the shot you watch -what’s going on and never mind the jumpers! If -you don’t watch how these other fellows do it you -never will learn! All right, Falkland!”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said Fudge when he and Perry were -walking home, “maybe I’d rather be a broad-jumper, -anyway. This shot-putting’s a silly stunt!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_142"></a>[142]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br /> -<small>FOILED!</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Whether Fudge really believed all he -professed to regarding the mysterious -occupant of Room 12 in the brick building -on G Street is a question. Fudge, being an -author of highly sensational romances, doubtless -possessed a little more imagination than common -and liked to give it free rein. Probably it is safe -to say that he believed about half. Perry, less imaginative -and far more practical, had been at first -taken in by Fudge and had really credited most if -not quite all that Fudge had asserted. When, however, -another week passed and nothing startling -happened, he began to lose faith. Almost every -morning the supposed desperado ate his breakfast -in full view of Perry very much as anyone else -would have eaten it, rationally clothed and exhibiting -absolutely none of the tricks or manners popularly -associated with criminals. He did not, for -instance, suddenly pause to glance furtively from<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_143"></a>[143]</span> -the window. Nor did he ever, when Perry was -looking, shrug his shoulders as villains always did -on the screen at the theater. In short, as a criminal -he was decidedly disappointing!</p> - -<p>One morning he actually laughed. Perry couldn’t -hear the laugh, but he could see it, and there was -nothing sardonic about it. It was just a jolly, -chuckling sort of laugh, apparently inspired by -something in the morning paper. Perry’s own -features creased in sympathy. After that Perry -found it very difficult to place credence in the “safe-breaker” -theory. Then, too, Fudge failed to develop -any new evidence. In fact, to all appearances, -Fudge had gone to sleep on his job. When -Perry mentioned the matter to him Fudge would -frown portentously and intimate that affairs had -reached a point where mental rather than physical -exertion counted most. Perry, though, was no -longer deceived.</p> - -<p>“Huh,” he said one day, “there was nothing in -that yarn of yours and you’ve found it out. What’s -the good of pretending any more?”</p> - -<p>Fudge looked sarcastic and mysterious but refused -to bandy words. His “If-you-knew-all-I-know” -air slightly impressed the other, and Perry -begged to be taken into the secret. But Fudge -showed that he felt wounded by his friend’s defection<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_144"></a>[144]</span> -and took himself off in dignified silence. When -he had reached home and had settled himself on the -platform in the apple tree, however, Fudge realized -that his reputation and standing as an authority on -crime and its detection was in danger. Something, -consequently, must be done to restore Perry’s confidence. -But what? He thought hard and long, so -long that twilight grew to darkness before he left -his retreat and hurried to the house for supper. He -had, though, solved his problem.</p> - -<p>The next day, which was Saturday, he presented -himself at Perry’s at a little after nine o’clock. -Perry, who had been practicing starts on the weed-grown -path at the side of the house, joined him -on the front porch somewhat out of breath and with -his thoughts far from the subject of crime and criminals, -clews and detectives. One glance at Fudge’s -countenance, however, told him that matters of importance -were about to be divulged. He pocketed -his grips and prepared to listen and be impressed. -Briefly, what Fudge had to say was this:</p> - -<p>He had, he found, been slightly mistaken regarding -Mr. Myron Addicks. The mistake was a natural -one. It consisted of classifying Mr. Addicks -as a safe-breaker instead of a train-robber. Fudge -did not explain clearly by what marvelous mental -processes he had arrived at a knowledge of his error,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_145"></a>[145]</span> -or perhaps the fault was with Perry’s understanding. -At all events, the result was there and already -his new theory had been proven correct. He had -that very morning, not more than twenty minutes -ago, read, in the local office of the American Express -Company, a description of one “Edward Hurley, -alias John Crowell, alias John Fenney,” wanted -by the company for the robbery of an express car at -Cartwright, Utah, on February seventeenth last, -which exactly tallied with the appearance of Mr. -Myron Addicks, allowing, of course, for certain -efforts at disguise. Fudge had copied the salient -points of the placard in the express office and referred -now to his memorandum, written on the back -of a money order blank: “Age, about 28. Height, -5 feet, 10 inches. Weight, about 170 pounds. Dark -brown hair, blue eyes, complexion dark. Was clean-shaven -when last seen, but has probably grown -beard or mustache. Carries himself erect. Has -white scar about two inches in length on back of -left forearm.”</p> - -<p>“There was a picture of him, too,” said Fudge, -“but I guess it wasn’t a very good one, because he -had his head thrown back and his eyes half closed -and was scowling like anything. It must have been -taken by the police.”</p> - -<p>“What is the reward?” asked Perry breathlessly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_146"></a>[146]</span></p> - -<p>“Five hundred dollars, it said. Maybe they’d -pay more, though.”</p> - -<p>“That would be two hundred and fifty apiece,” -reflected the other. “That wouldn’t be so bad, -would it? But—but it doesn’t seem to me that the -description is much like this fellow. Did the picture -look like him?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” replied Fudge judicially, “it did and then -again it didn’t. You see, the fellow’s face was all -screwed up, and he didn’t have any mustache. A -mustache makes a lot of difference in your looks, -you know. But the description fits him to a T. -‘Dark brown hair, blue eyes——’”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think this chap’s eyes are blue, -though.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you anything they are! What color are -they then?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” confessed Perry.</p> - -<p>“No, and there you are! He’s about five feet, -ten inches high, isn’t he?” Perry nodded doubtfully. -“And he weighs about a hundred and seventy -pounds, doesn’t he? And his complexion’s dark -and he carries himself erect! And he has a false -mustache, and the notice said he would probably -have one. Oh, it’s our man all right! Don’t you -worry! Besides, don’t you see this explains his -wearing that cowboy get-up you saw him in? That’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_147"></a>[147]</span> -probably what he was. Lots of train-robbers were -cowboys first-off.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said Perry thoughtfully. “But—but -supposing we proved it on him.”</p> - -<p>“Well?”</p> - -<p>“Would you want to—to give him away?”</p> - -<p>Fudge hesitated. “I wouldn’t <em>want</em> to,” he said -at last, “but it’s the duty of a good citizen to aid in -the apprehension of lawbreakers, isn’t it? And, -besides, someone would get that five hundred sooner -or later, wouldn’t they? Bound to! You bet! -Well, there you are!”</p> - -<p>But Perry looked unconvinced. “I don’t think -I’d like to,” he murmured presently. “Anyhow, -maybe we’re mistaken. Maybe his eyes aren’t blue. -If we could get a look at his arm——”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what we’ve got to do,” replied Fudge. -“That’s what will tell.”</p> - -<p>“But how?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t decided that yet. There are ways. -You leave it to me. I guess he’s just hiding out -here, Perry. I mean I don’t believe he is thinking -of doing another job just yet. He’s probably waiting -for this to blow over. I told you he was a -slick one!”</p> - -<p>“But if he really was wanted for robbing that -train,” objected Perry, “it doesn’t seem to me he’d<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_148"></a>[148]</span> -show himself around the way he’s doing. He’d -hide, wouldn’t he, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Where? He is hiding. He wears that mustache -and he’s trusting to that, you see. Why, if he went -sneaking around the police would notice him at -once, Perry. So he comes right out in public; makes -believe he’s a civil engineer and plays the piano in -a theater. You don’t suppose, do you, that the -police would ever think of looking in a moving -picture house for an escaped train-robber? Say, -he must sort of laugh to himself when he sees those -train-robbery films, eh?”</p> - -<p>“But if he wears that mustache when he goes -out, Fudge, why does he take it off when he’s in -his room?”</p> - -<p>“Maybe it isn’t comfortable. I should think it -mightn’t be.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but he must know that most anyone can -see him when he sits at his window like that in the -morning.”</p> - -<p>Fudge was silent for a moment. Then: “Perhaps -he doesn’t think of that,” he suggested weakly. -“Anyhow, what we’ve got to do is see first if his -eyes are blue, and after that whether he has a -scar on his arm. We might wait in front of the -theater this afternoon, only there’s the ball game -and we don’t want to miss that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_149"></a>[149]</span></p> - -<p>“That isn’t until three, and the theater begins -at two.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so! We’ll do it, then! I’ll be around -right after dinner, and we’ll watch for him. Say, -what would you do with two hundred and fifty -dollars, Perry?”</p> - -<p>Perry shook his head. “I don’t know. Guess -I’d give it to dad, all but twenty-five dollars, maybe. -What would you?”</p> - -<p>Fudge shook his head also. “Search me! Well, -we haven’t got it yet. I guess I could find things -to do with it all right. Say, you don’t suppose he’s -at his window now, do you?”</p> - -<p>They ascended to Perry’s room and looked across, -but the opposite casement was vacant. Nor, although -they kept watch for a good ten minutes, -did they catch sight of the suspect. They returned -to the porch. “What we might do,” said Fudge -reflectively, “is go and see him and make believe we -wanted some civil engineering done.”</p> - -<p>“We’d look fine doing that!” scoffed Perry. -“He’d know right away we were faking.”</p> - -<p>“I guess so,” Fudge acknowledged. “We might -get someone else to do it, though.”</p> - -<p>“Who?”</p> - -<p>“Well, you might ask your father.”</p> - -<p>“I might, but I’m not likely to,” was the derisive<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_150"></a>[150]</span> -response. “Besides, all we’ve got to do is to get -a good look at him to see whether his eyes are blue -or not.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t suppose folks can change the color -of their eyes, do you?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not! How could they?”</p> - -<p>Fudge shook his head. “Criminals know lots of -tricks we don’t,” he replied. “But we’ll soon see.”</p> - -<p>Whereupon Perry went back to practicing starts -in the side yard and Fudge, finding a rock, gave -an interesting imitation of putting the shot.</p> - -<p>They reached the theater at twenty-five minutes -before two. Fudge apologized for being a trifle -late, explaining that his mother had sent him on an -errand directly after dinner in spite of his plea of -an important engagement. Still, there was no doubt -but that they were in plenty of time, for the orchestra -did not assemble until a few minutes before two. -As there was already quite a throng awaiting the -opening of the doors, they decided to separate and -take opposite sides of the entrance. This they did, -Fudge assuming an expression and demeanor so -purposeless that Perry feared he would be arrested -as an escaped lunatic by the policeman on duty -there. Several hundreds of persons passed into -the theater, but neither of the boys caught sight of -their quarry, and when, at two o’clock, the strains<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_151"></a>[151]</span> -of the orchestra reached them, they had to confess -themselves defeated. By that time the crowd had -thinned out to a mere dribble of late arrivals and -the officer was, or seemed to them to be, eyeing them -with growing suspicion. They were glad when they -had escaped from his chilly stare.</p> - -<p>“I don’t see——” began Perry.</p> - -<p>“I do!” Fudge interrupted bitterly. “We’re a -couple of chumps! Why, the orchestra chaps go -in the stage entrance, of course! And that’s around -in the alley off Pine Street! Gee, we’re a fine pair -of dummies, aren’t we?”</p> - -<p>There was no denying it and so Perry mutely consented -with a sorrowful nod.</p> - -<p>“Well, we’ll know better next time,” said Fudge -more cheerfully. “Come on into Castle’s and have -a soda. Only it’ll have to be a five-center, because -I’m pretty nearly strapped. Sleuthing makes a -fellow thirsty.”</p> - -<p>Ten minutes later the amateur detectives, forgetting -their defeat and cheered by two glasses of -cherry phosphate, started for the field.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_152"></a>[152]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br /> -<small>THE GAME WITH NORRISVILLE</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">This afternoon’s contest was the first one of -the season with an outside team. Norrisville -Academy, since it was a boarding -school, had the advantage of being able to get into -condition rather earlier in the year than Clearfield -High School. To-day’s opponents had, in fact, been -practicing regularly since the latter part of February, -since they were so fortunate as to possess a -fine gymnasium with a big and practical baseball -cage. Aside from this advantage, however, Norrisville -had nothing Clearfield hadn’t, and if the -latter had enjoyed another fortnight of practice -Dick Lovering would have had no doubt as to the -outcome of the game. But as things were he told -himself that he would be quite satisfied if his -charges came through with something approaching -a close score.</p> - -<p>It was a splendid April day, warm and still. -There were a good many clouds about, though, and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_153"></a>[153]</span> -the morning paper had predicted showers. With -this in mind, Dick resolved to get a good start in -the first few innings, if that were possible, and so -presented a line-up that surprised the large audience -of High School rooters that had turned out -for the game. As set down in Manager Wayland’s -score-book, the order of batting was as follows: -Bryan, 2b; Farrar, cf; Merrick, 1b; Jones, ss; Scott, -3b; McCoy, lf; Breen, rf; White, c; Nostrand, p. -This arrangement in Dick’s present judgment presented -the team’s best batting strength. Tom Nostrand -was put in the box instead of Tom Haley, -since so far this spring he had out-hit the first-choice -pitcher almost two to one. It takes runs -to win a game and runs were what Dick was after.</p> - -<p>Fudge, occupying one and a third seats behind -the home plate, flanked by Perry on one side and -Arthur Beaton, the Track Team Manager, on the -other, viewed the selection of talent dubiously. -More than that, he didn’t hesitate to criticize. Fudge -never did. He was a good, willing critic. No one, -though, took him seriously, unless, perhaps, it was -the devoted Perry, who, knowing little of baseball, -was ready to concede much knowledge of the subject -to his chum. Arthur Beaton, however, frankly -disagreed with Fudge’s statements.</p> - -<p>“Forget it, Fudge,” he said. “Dick Lovering<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_154"></a>[154]</span> -knew baseball when you were waving a rattle. Talk -about things you understand.”</p> - -<p>“Of course he knows baseball. I’m not saying -he doesn’t, am I? What I’m telling you is that Joe -Browne’s a heap better fielder than Howard Breen.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe, but he isn’t worth two cents as a hitter.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. If a fellow fields well enough -he doesn’t have to be any Ty Cobb to make good. -It’s all right to go after runs, but if you let the -other fellow get runs, too, what good are you doing? -If they whack a ball into right field it’ll be good -for three bases, I tell you. Breen’s as slow as cold -molasses and can’t throw half-way to the plate!”</p> - -<p>“You’d better slip down there before it’s too late -and tell that to Dick,” said Arthur sarcastically. -“He’d be mighty glad to know it.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, old scout. You wait and see -if I’m not right. I just hope the first fellow up -lams one into right!”</p> - -<p>He didn’t though; he popped a foul to Lanny and -retired to the bench. The succeeding “Norris-villains,” -as Fudge called them, were quickly disposed -of at first, and Harry Bryan went to bat for -the home team. Bryan was a heady batsman and -had a reputation for getting his base. He wasn’t -particular how he did it. He was a good waiter,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_155"></a>[155]</span> -had a positive genius for getting struck with the -ball and could, when required, lay down a well-calculated -bunt. Once on the base, he was hard to -stop. On this occasion, he followed Dick’s instructions -and was walked after six pitched balls. Pete -Farrar waited until Clayton, the Norrisville pitcher, -had sent a ball and a strike over and then trundled -one down the first base path that started well but -unfortunately rolled out, to the immense relief of -the hovering Norrisville pitcher and first-baseman. -With two strikes against him, it was up to Pete to -hit out of the infield, but Captain Jones, coaching -at first, sent Bryan off to second and Pete’s swipe -at the ball missed. Bryan, though, was safe by -three feet, and the stands applauded wildly and -saw in imagination the beginning of Clearfield’s -scoring. But Bryan never got beyond second in -that inning. Gordon Merrick flied out to shortstop -and Captain Warner Jones, trying his best to hit -between second and short, lined one squarely into -second-baseman’s glove.</p> - -<p>Nostrand held the enemy safe once more, although -the second man up got to first on Scott’s -error and slid safely to second when the third batsman -was thrown out, Scott to Merrick. A fly to -McCoy in left field ended the suspense.</p> - -<p>It was Will Scott who started things going for<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_156"></a>[156]</span> -the Purple. He was first up and caught the second -offering on the end of his bat and landed it in -short right for a single. McCoy sacrificed nicely -and Scott took second. Breen there and then vindicated -Dick’s judgment. After Clayton had put -himself in a hole by trying to give Breen what he -didn’t want, and after the onlookers had gone -through a violent attack of heart-failure when Will -Scott was very nearly caught off second, Breen -found something he liked the look of and crashed -his bat against it with the result that Scott sped -home and Breen rested on second.</p> - -<p>Dick summoned Lanny and whispered to him -and Lanny nodded and strode to the plate swinging -the black bat that was his especial pride and affection. -Norrisville played in and Lanny did what -they expected he would try to do, but did it so well -that their defense was unequal to the task. His -bunt toward third was slow and short. Breen landed -on the next bag and Lanny streaked for first. Both -third-baseman and catcher went after the bunt and -there was an instant of indecision. Then third-baseman -scooped up the ball and pegged to first. -But Lanny, whose record for sixty yards was six -and four-fifths seconds, beat out the throw.</p> - -<p>Nostrand played a waiting game and had two -strikes and a ball on him before Lanny found his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_157"></a>[157]</span> -chance to steal. Then, with a good getaway, he -slid to second unchallenged, Nostrand swinging and -missing. With men on third and second and but -one down, the world looked bright to the Clearfield -supporters, but when, a moment later, Nostrand’s -attempt at a sacrifice fly popped high and fell into -shortstop’s hands, the outlook dimmed.</p> - -<p>But there was still hope of more runs. With -Bryan up, Clearfield might get a hit. The Norrisville -catcher, though, decided that Bryan would -be better on first than at bat and signaled for a -pass. Four wide ones were pitched and Harry trotted -to first and the bases were filled. Theoretically, -the Norrisville catcher was right, for with two out -three on bases were no more dangerous than two, -and he knew that the next batsman, Pete Farrar, -had earned his location in the line-up because of -his ability to sacrifice rather than to hit out. But -for once theory and practice didn’t agree. Farrar, -barred from bunting, resolved to go to the other -extreme and hit as hard and as far as he could—if -he hit at all. For a minute or two it looked as -though he was not to hit at all, for Clayton kept -the ball around Farrar’s knees and registered two -strikes against him before Pete realized the fact. -Then came a ball and then a good one that Pete -fouled behind first base. Another ball, and the tally<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_158"></a>[158]</span> -was two and two. Again Pete connected and sent -the ball crashing into the stand. Clayton’s attempt -to cut the corner resulted badly for him, for the -umpire judged it a ball. Anxious coachers danced -and shouted jubilantly.</p> - -<p>“He’s got to pitch now, Pete!” bawled Captain -Jones. “It’s got to be good! Here we go! On -your toes, Breen! Touch all the bases, Harry! Yip! -Yip! Yip! Yi——”</p> - -<p>The last “Yip” was never finished, for just when -Warner was in the middle of it bat and ball met -with a <em>crack</em> and a number of things happened simultaneously. -The ball went streaking across the infield, -rising as it went, Breen scuttled to the plate, -Lanny flew to third, Harry Bryan sped to second, -Pete legged it desperately to first. Second-baseman -made a wild attempt to reach the ball, but it passed -well above his upstretched glove and kept on. Right- -and center-fielders started in, hesitated, changed -their minds and raced back. The spectators, on their -feet to a boy—or girl—yelled madly as fielders and -ball came nearer and nearer together far out beyond -the running track in deep center. A brief moment of -suspense during which the shouting died down to -little more than a murmur and then the outcome -was apparent and the yelling suddenly arose to -new heights. The fielders slowed down in the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_159"></a>[159]</span> -shadow of the distant fence, but not so the ball. It -made a fine, heroic effort to pass out of the field -but couldn’t quite do it. Instead it banged against -the boards a few inches from the top and bounded -back. It was right-fielder who recovered it and -who, turning quickly, made a fine throw to second-baseman. -And second-baseman did all he could -to cut that hit down to a three-bagger, but Pete was -already scuttling to the plate when the ball left his -hand and the throw, being hurried, took the catcher -just far enough to the right to let Pete in. Pete, -catcher and ball became interestingly mixed together -for an instant in a cloud of dust and then the -umpire, stooping and spreading his arms with palms -downward, returned his verdict.</p> - -<p>“<em>He’s safe!</em>” declared the official.</p> - -<p>The breathless Pete was extricated and pulled -triumphantly to the bench while Norrisville, represented -by catcher and pitcher and shortstop, who -was also captain, gathered around the home plate -to record their displeasure at the decision. But Mr. -Cochran, physical director at the Y. M. C. A., discouraged -argument and waved them aside politely -but firmly and, while the cheering died away, Gordon -Merrick went to bat. Clayton was shaken by -that home-run and seemed absolutely unable to tell -where the plate was, although the catcher despairingly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_160"></a>[160]</span> -invited him to come up and have a look at it! -Gordon smiled serenely and presently walked to -first. Captain Jones sent him to second with a nice -hit past shortstop and Clearfield got ready to acclaim -more tallies. But Scott’s best was a slow -grounder to shortstop and he made the third -out.</p> - -<p>Five runs, however, was enough to win the game, -or so, at least, the delighted Clearfield supporters -declared. And so, too, thought the players themselves. -As for their coach, Dick hoped the game -was safe, but he meant to take no chances and so -when in the next inning, after his own players had -failed to add to the total, Norrisville began to show -a liking for Tom Nostrand’s delivery by getting two -safeties and putting a man on third before the side -was retired, Dick sent Tom Haley to warm up.</p> - -<p>There was no more scoring by either team until -the first of the sixth. Then Haley had a bad inning. -The first Norrisville batter laid down a bunt toward -the pitcher’s box and Tom, fielding it hurriedly, -pegged it far over Merrick’s head. The runner -slid to second in safety. That mishap unsettled -Haley and he filled the bases by passing the next -two men. That Clearfield finally got out of the hole -with only two runs against her might well be considered -a piece of good fortune. In the last of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_161"></a>[161]</span> -sixth Clearfield added one more tally and the score -stood 6 to 2. Neither side scored in the seventh.</p> - -<p>For my part, I’d like to lower the curtain. Clearfield -should have had that game. But it wasn’t to -be. Perhaps the home players were too certain. At -all events, errors began to crop out at the most unfortunate -times, and these, coupled with Tom -Haley’s erratic pitching, were the Purple’s undoing. -It was Captain Jones himself who booted an easy -hit that might have been a double and instead of -retiring the side in the first of the eighth, let two -more runs cross the plate. Then Haley hit a batsman, -donated a third base on balls and finally allowed -a hard-slugging Norrisville man to slap out a -two-bagger. When the worst was over the score -was tied, and so it remained throughout the -ninth inning and the tenth and the eleventh -and the twelfth. And when that was over darkness -had descended and eighteen very tired players -heard with relief the umpire call the game. -And several hundred spectators, rather stiff and -chilly and hungry, went disappointedly home to -supper.</p> - -<p>“I knew mighty well,” declared Fudge as he and -Perry made their way through the twilight, “that -we could never win with <em>that</em> line-up! You heard -me tell Harry so, too, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_162"></a>[162]</span></p> - -<p>And Perry, being a good chum, assented.</p> - -<p>The next day it rained. Not enough, as Fudge -bitterly reflected, to keep a fellow from going to -church, but sufficiently to make sojourning out of -doors in the afternoon a very wet and unpleasant -business. It drizzled, but the drizzle was much -more of a rain than a mist, and when, about three -o’clock, Fudge went across town to Perry’s house -he arrived in a fairly damp condition. Being damp -affected Fudge’s naturally sunny disposition. It -didn’t make him cross, but it gave him an injured -and slightly pathetic expression and tinged his utterances -with gloom and pessimism. He wasn’t a -very cheerful companion to-day, and Perry, who -had been having a rather comfortable and cozy -time curled up on the black horse-hair lounge in -the Doctor’s reception-room—also used as a parlor -on extraordinary occasions—with a volume of Du -Chaillu’s travels which he had happened on in the -book-case, almost wished that his friend had stayed -at home. They went up to Perry’s room and sat -by the open window and watched the drizzle and -talked desultorily of track and field work and yesterday’s -game and of many other things. The affair -of the “train-robber” was, it seemed by mutual -agreement, avoided; it was not a day to inspire one -to detecting. The “train-robber’s” window was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_163"></a>[163]</span> -open across the back yard, but no one appeared at -it. Fudge had drawn the conversation back to -shot-putting and was indulging in a few well-chosen -disparaging remarks with regard to the overbearing -manner of Harry Partridge when sounds came to -them. Of course sounds had been coming to them -for half an hour; the patter of rain, the quiet footfalls -of Mrs. Hull below-stairs, the whistle of the -three-twenty-two train crossing the bridge and such -ordinary noises; but this was new and different. -Perry drew Fudge’s attention to it and then listened -puzzledly. At first it seemed to come from around -the corner of the house, but presently they located -it in the room occupied by the “train-robber.” They -crowded their heads through the window and -strained their ears.</p> - -<p>“What’s he doing?” demanded Fudge in a hoarse -whisper after a minute or two.</p> - -<p>“I think”—Perry hesitated—“I think he’s singing!”</p> - -<p>“Singing!”</p> - -<p>“Yes; listen!” They listened. Perry was right. -The sounds that issued from the window were undoubtedly -those of a man’s voice raised in song. -What the words of the song were they couldn’t make -out, but the tune, if it deserved the name, was -peculiarly slow and doleful.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_164"></a>[164]</span></p> - -<p>“Jimminy, he must be feeling bad!” muttered -Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Sounds like a—a dirge, doesn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Awful!” They tried hard to hear what it was -all about, but as the singer was evidently well back -from the window and as the window was some little -distance away, they failed. Finally they drew their -heads in, being by that time somewhat wet, and -viewed each other inquiringly. Then, without a -word, Fudge lifted his cap from the table, Perry, -equally silent, moved toward the door and the two -quietly descended the staircase. Perry got his -cap from the tree in the front hall and they slipped -through the front door, across the porch and into -the drizzle.</p> - -<p>Two minutes later they were climbing the stairs -in the brick building on G Street, looking very -much like the desperate conspirators they felt themselves -to be. A pleasant odor from the bakery on -the first floor pursued them as they noiselessly -ascended the staircase and crept along the first hall. -The building was silent and apparently deserted until, -half-way up the second flight, from behind the -closed door and transom of Number 7, came the -muffled tones of a deep bass voice in monotonous, -wailing cadence. The boys paused at the head of -the stairs and listened. Words came to them, but<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_165"></a>[165]</span> -only occasionally. They tip-toed nearer. That was -better. They could hear fairly well now.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“I wash in a pool and wipe on a sack,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">And carry my wardrobe right on my back.</div> - <div class="verse indent1">For want of a stove I cook bread in a pot,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">And sleep on the ground for want of a cot.”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>As the voices of the Sirens lured Ulysses of old, -so the doleful strains lured Perry and Fudge nearer -and nearer.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“My ceiling’s the sky and my carpet’s the grass,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">My music’s the lowing of herds as they pass.</div> - <div class="verse indent1">My books are the streams and my Bible’s a stone,</div> - <div class="verse indent1">My preacher’s a wolf on a pulpit of bones.”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>By now the two boys were standing on either side -of the door, listening raptly.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“The preacher he says from his pulpit of bones</div> - <div class="verse indent1">That the Lord favors those who look out for their own.</div> - <div class="verse indent1">My friends often hint——”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>The wails ceased. A moment’s silence ensued. -Then the door was suddenly opened, and:</p> - -<p>“Come right in, pardners,” said a voice. “Everything’s -free!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_166"></a>[166]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br /> -<small>THE WHITE SCAR</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">They were two very startled youths who -leaped back as the door unexpectedly opened -and who, for a breathless instant, gazed -speechlessly at the man confronting them. He was -tall, wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped, with a -frank, good-looking face, clean-shaven, on which -at the moment a quizzical smile rested. He had laid -aside coat and vest, and under the uprolled sleeves -of his white shirt his long arms showed muscles -like whip-cords. It was Fudge who found his -voice first.</p> - -<p>“I—I—W-w-we——”</p> - -<p>“No savvy, hombre. Start again.”</p> - -<p>“W-we were j-j-just list-list-list——”</p> - -<p>“Listening,” said Perry helpfully.</p> - -<p>“Well, I hope you liked it. Come on in. We’re -all friends together.”</p> - -<p>“No, thanks,” said Perry, embarrassed. “We -just happened to hear you singing——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_167"></a>[167]</span></p> - -<p>“Hooray!” exclaimed the man. “That’s sure -fine! Shake, pardner!”</p> - -<p>And Perry found himself shaking hands most -enthusiastically with the strange person and, at the -same time, being drawn through the doorway. He -tried to hold back, but it was utterly useless. Fudge, -his startled expression vastly increased, followed -doubtfully and the man closed the door. He was -smiling broadly.</p> - -<p>“Sit down, boys, and tell me your sweet, sad -tale. You sure have made a big hit with me, -all right. No one ever called that noise of mine -singing before. Yes, sir, muchachos, you’ve won -me!”</p> - -<p>“I—we thought it was very”—Perry searched -for a word—“very nice singing.”</p> - -<p>“P-P-Peachy,” supplemented Fudge, smiling ingratiatingly, -and then casting a troubled look at -the closed door. To be shut in like this at the -mercy of a train-robber had not been within his -calculations. To increase his uneasiness, Fudge -noted that his host’s eyes were blue, light grayish-blue, -but still to all intents and purposes blue! He -looked meaningly at Perry, wondering whether, if -they started together, they could reach the door before -they were intercepted. The man had made -them take two of the three chairs and perched himself<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_168"></a>[168]</span> -on a corner of the table in the middle of the -room.</p> - -<p>“I hope I didn’t scare you when I pulled the door -open,” he said. “Wouldn’t want to do that, you -know. Too flattered at having an audience.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, we weren’t scared,” Perry assured him -not too truthfully. “We oughtn’t have done it, but—we -heard you and——”</p> - -<p>“Just couldn’t resist it, eh? Was it the words -or the tune that hypnotized you?” He regarded -Perry very gravely indeed, but there was a twinkle -in his blue eyes.</p> - -<p>Perry smiled weakly.</p> - -<p>“I—I guess it was the words,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet it was! That’s a nice song. I’ll teach -it to you some time if you like. Haven’t I seen -you boys around town?”</p> - -<p>Perry nodded, casting a quick glance at Fudge. -Fudge, however, had his gaze set longingly on the -door.</p> - -<p>“I thought so. I’ve got a good memory for faces. -Pretty good ears, too.” He laughed. “I suppose -you fellows thought you weren’t making a sound out -there? Well, I heard you when you first came along -the hall. Live around here, do you?”</p> - -<p>“I do,” answered Perry. “He doesn’t.”</p> - -<p>“Well, let’s tell our names. Mine’s Addicks.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_169"></a>[169]</span></p> - -<p>“My name is Hull and his is Shaw. My first -name is Perry.”</p> - -<p>“Perry Hull, eh? Sounds like something out of -a history of the American Navy. Any relation to -the celebrated commodores?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, I don’t think so.”</p> - -<p>“What’s his name to his friends?” asked the -host, nodding toward Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Fud—that is, William.”</p> - -<p>“My first name’s Myron. I don’t know why they -called me that, but they did. Doesn’t he ever talk?” -Again Mr. Addicks indicated the absorbed Fudge.</p> - -<p>“I was j-j-just thinking,” replied the latter.</p> - -<p>“Oh! What were you thinking?”</p> - -<p>Fudge regarded the questioner doubtfully. “Lots -of things,” he muttered darkly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks laughed. “Sounds interesting, the -way you tell it! I dare say you chaps go to school?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, High School,” replied Perry. “We’re -both juniors.”</p> - -<p>“Good leather! Go in for sports, do you? Football, -baseball, those things?”</p> - -<p>“A little. Fudge plays baseball and football some. -I play football, too.”</p> - -<p>“So his name is Fudge, is it? William Fudge -Shaw, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>“It’s just a nickname,” explained Perry.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_170"></a>[170]</span></p> - -<p>“I savvy. William week-days and Fudge Sunday, -eh?” Perry smiled politely at the joke, but -Fudge’s expression remained serious and distrustful. -“I’d like to see you fellows play some time,” -continued their host. “I used to play football at -college, but I never tried baseball. Didn’t have -time. Sprinting and hurdling were my stunts. Do -you have a track team at your school?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” answered Perry eagerly, “and he and -I are trying for it this year. Fudge is learning to -put the shot and throw the hammer and I’m trying -the sprints.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t say? How old are you, Hull?”</p> - -<p>“Fifteen.”</p> - -<p>“You look older. What’s your time for the hundred?”</p> - -<p>“I—I don’t know yet. Skeet—he’s our coach—gave -me a trial the other day, but he wouldn’t tell -me what my time was.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks nodded. “I see. What’s the school -record?”</p> - -<p>Perry didn’t know, but Fudge supplied the information. -“It’s ten and a fifth. Lanny White did -it last year against Springdale.”</p> - -<p>“That’s good work! I’d like to see that chap -run. I suppose you have your work-outs in the -afternoons, don’t you? If I didn’t have to—if I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_171"></a>[171]</span> -wasn’t so busy I’d come out and look you over. My -record was ten flat for the hundred when I was -in college, and fifteen and two-fifths over the high -hurdles. I never could do much at the two-twenty -distance, sprint or hurdles. I did do the low hurdles -once in twenty-six flat, but that was in practice.”</p> - -<p>“What college did you go to?” asked Fudge, forgetting -his suspicion for the moment.</p> - -<p>“Morgan,” answered the man, and smiled at -their perplexity. “It’s in Nebraska. Ever hear -of it?”</p> - -<p>They shook their heads, looking apologetic.</p> - -<p>“I suppose not. It’s a long ride from here. Good -little college, though. I spent a right comfortable -three years there.”</p> - -<p>“Does it take but three years to get through -there?” asked Fudge. “I’d like to go there myself, -I guess.”</p> - -<p>“No, but I was in a hurry, so I finished up in -three. Had to get out and hustle me a living, you -see. Not but what I wasn’t doing that after a -fashion all the time.” He paused and chuckled -deeply. “Ran a livery stable.”</p> - -<p>“A livery stable! While you were in college?” -asked Fudge.</p> - -<p>“You said it, hombre. Had to do something. -Didn’t have much of anything but what I had on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_172"></a>[172]</span> -when I struck college. Paid them a half-year’s -tuition—education’s cheap out that way, friends, -and it’s good, too—and looked around for something -to work at. Didn’t find anything at first and -so one day I go down to a stable run by a poor -thing name of Cheeny and hires me a bronch for -a couple of hours. I can always think a heap -better when I’m on a horse, it seems. Well, thinking -doesn’t do me much good this time, though, and -I heads back to town telling myself the best thing -I can do is roll my blanket and hit the trail. But -when I gets back to the stable, which isn’t much -more than a shed and a corral built of railway ties -set on end, this poor thing name of Cheeny says -to me: ‘Know anyone wants to buy a nice livery -business?’ ‘Supposing I did?’ says I, squinting -around the shack. ‘Why, here it is,’ he says. Well, -to come right down to brass tacks, he and I did -business after a day or two. He wanted to hike -back to Missouri, which he ought never to have left, -and we made a dicker. I was to pay him so much -a month till we were square. ’Course I knew that, -as he’d been running the place, he wasn’t making -enough to pay his feed bill, but I had a notion -I could do a bit better. Did, too. What I bought -wasn’t much—half a dozen carriages about ready -to fall to pieces, five bronchos and a little grain and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_173"></a>[173]</span> -alfalfa. The bronchs weren’t so bad, if you excuse -their looks. What they needed mostly was food. -Trouble was, though, that everyone out there who -needed a horse had one, and I saw that if I was to -make anything on that investment I’d have to make -my own market. Which I did.”</p> - -<p>“How did you do it?” asked Perry eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Introduced the wholesome recreation of riding. -Used to take a string of bronchs up to college -in the afternoon and stand ’em outside the -Hall. Then when anyone came along I’d ask him if -he didn’t want to hire a horse for two bits an hour. -At first I just got laughed at. Then one or two -fellows tried it for a lark, and after that it went -fine. I gave riding lessons to some of the girls—Morgan -is co-ed, you know—and the next year I -had to buy me more horses. Paid that poor thing -name of Cheeny in full before I’d been there six -months. When I left I sold out to a man from -Lincoln and did right well. Now you talk.”</p> - -<p>“Wh-what did you do next?” asked Fudge interestedly.</p> - -<p>“Went down to Texas and got a job with a firm -of engineers who were running a new railway -down to the Gulf. I’d taken a course of civil engineering. -Met up with a slick customer who looked -like a down-east preacher and went shares with him<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_174"></a>[174]</span> -on some oil land. Still got it. Something happened -to the railway about that time and they stopped -work. That left me strapped and I hired out as a -ranch hand. After that I went to punching down -near Las Topas.”</p> - -<p>“Punching?” queried Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Cows.”</p> - -<p>“You mean you were a cowboy?” asked Perry -eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Four years of it.”</p> - -<p>“Gee!” sighed Perry. “That must have been -great!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks laughed. “Well, some of it wasn’t -so bad. I liked it pretty well. I was always crazy -about horses and riding. I got enough of it, though. -It don’t get you anything. An uncle of mine died -and a lawyer wrote me I was the old chap’s heir and -had better beat it back here and claim the estate. -Which I did.” He smiled wryly. “The estate was -a tumble-down farm-house about three miles from -here on the Springdale road with a mortgage all -over it. There’s so much mortgage you have to -lift up a corner of it before you can see the house. -Being still a trifle worse than broke, I got a job -with a moving picture company in Jersey and rode -for ’em almost a year. That was harder work than -being the real thing, and a sight more dangerous. I<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_175"></a>[175]</span> -nearly killed myself one day, when a horse fell -on me, and so I got my time and quit being an actor. -That was about a month ago. Then I came back -here and rented this place and started in business. -The business hasn’t shown up yet, though. I guess -being a civil engineer in Clearfield is about as busy -a job as being a street-cleaner in Venice! Now -you know all about me. Hope I haven’t tired you -out.”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed,” replied Perry emphatically. “I -like to hear about it. Say, you’ve been around a -lot, haven’t you? Were you born in Nebraska?”</p> - -<p>“Me? Hombre, I’m a native son of this grand -old state. My folks farmed it over near Petersboro -before the Pilgrims bought their passage!”</p> - -<p>“How did you happen to go to college away out -there, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Why—now, look here, I’ve talked enough. I’ll -tell you some day about that, if you say so, but if -I don’t quit now you’ll think I’m wound up. You -tell me things.”</p> - -<p>“What?” asked Perry, smiling.</p> - -<p>“Well, what are you aiming to do when you get -through cramming your head full of knowledge, -friend?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. I used to think I’d be a doctor. -That’s what my father is. But lately—I don’t know.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_176"></a>[176]</span> -There doesn’t seem to be much money in doctoring.”</p> - -<p>“Be a civil engineer then and get rich,” said Mr. -Addicks gravely. “What’s your line going to be, -Shaw?”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to be an author,” answered Fudge -earnestly.</p> - -<p>“That’s another of those well-paid professions. -Guess what we’d better do is make a date to meet -in the poor house in, say, twenty or thirty years!”</p> - -<p>“Some authors make a lot of money,” said Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Do they? Maybe so. The only one I ever knew -who had money in his pocket was a chap out in -Laredo. Don’t know as you’d call him an author -exactly either; more of a poet. He traveled around -on side-door Pullmans and sold poems at the houses. -Said he was ‘singing his way around the world.’ -Told me he sometimes got as much as fifty cents -for a poem. Yes, he was what you might call a -right successful author; one of those ‘best-sellers’ -you hear about, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“What were the poems like?” asked Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t believe, between you and me and -the shovel, he had more than the one, and that—let -me see if I can remember it. How was it now? -‘My name is——’ I used to know that song, too. -Wait a minute. I’ve got it!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_177"></a>[177]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“‘My name is James O’Reilly,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">I come from Erin’s sod</div> - <div class="verse indent2">To sing my humble ballads</div> - <div class="verse indent4">As round the world I plod.</div> - <div class="verse indent2">I ask no gift from any man,</div> - <div class="verse indent4">I pay my way with song.</div> - <div class="verse indent2">The world is kind, and so I find</div> - <div class="verse indent4">Each day I trudge along.’”</div> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“I wouldn’t call that real poetry,” said Fudge -critically.</p> - -<p>“No more did he; he called it a song. Anyhow, -it brought him money. If someone doesn’t happen -in pretty quick and give me a job of surveying I’m -going to steal that song and see what I can do with -it! I suppose, now, you fellows don’t want any -surveying done? My prices are cheap. This is -bargain week.”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid not,” answered Fudge. “I guess -there isn’t much——”</p> - -<p>He suddenly stopped, mouth open, eyes round -and glassy, and stared at his host.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Addicks, following -Fudge’s fascinated gaze. “Anything wrong with -my hand?”</p> - -<p>Fudge seemed to shake himself out of his daze. -“N-n-n-no, sir!” he gulped. “Oh, n-n-no, sir! I -j-j-just hap-hap-happened to th-th-think of some-something!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_178"></a>[178]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks laughed dryly. “You’re a remarkable -young thinker, Shaw. I thought, by the way -you were looking at my hand, that maybe I needed -a manicure. Hello, going?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, I guess we’d better be getting home,” -said Perry. “We’ve enjoyed your—our visit.”</p> - -<p>“Have you? Well, I have, anyway. I was just -naturally bored to death when you came. When -you hear me trying to sing you’ll know it’s because -I’m bored. Drop in again soon, fellows. I’m usually -in in the mornings. Come around and I’ll -teach you that song.” He chuckled as he opened -the door for them. “I know some others too. ‘Sam -Bass,’ for instance. I know thirty-four verses of -‘Sam Bass,’ and that’s three more than any other -chap at the ‘Lazy K’ knew!”</p> - -<p>It was not until they were in the street that either -of the boys spoke. Then Perry asked wonderingly: -“For the love of mud, Fudge, what was the matter -with you? You looked like a dying fish!”</p> - -<p>“D-d-d-didn’t you see?” asked Fudge tensely.</p> - -<p>“See what?”</p> - -<p>“The wh-wh-wh-white s-s-scar!”</p> - -<p>“What white scar? Where?”</p> - -<p>“On his arm!” replied Fudge, hoarsely, triumphantly. -“The l-l-left one!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_179"></a>[179]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br /> -<small>SEARS MAKES A SUGGESTION</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">That Sunday evening there was an informal -meeting at Guy Felker’s house in the interests -of the Track Team. Guy had asked -a half-dozen fellows to come and talk over affairs, -and Lanny, Harry Partridge, Arthur Beaton and -Toby Sears had responded. Orson Kirke had excused -himself by telephone and Jack Toll had simply -failed to appear. Toby Sears was Senior Class -President, the School’s best broad-jumper and a -fair quarter-miler. Sears was eighteen and a rather -earnest chap on whose judgment the school always -placed the utmost reliance. It was Sears who was -talking now.</p> - -<p>“What Guy has said is just about so. There -isn’t now and never has been enough interest in -track and field athletics with us. Every year it’s -been increasingly difficult to get fellows to come -out for the team. Considering the lack of material -we’ve had to contend with, I think we’ve done<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_180"></a>[180]</span> -very well. But this spring a lot of us have been -hoping that things would be easier for the captain -and the coach, for we want to make this year’s victory -over Springdale decisive. But, as Guy has told -us, as things stand now the team is very one-sided. -That is, we’ve got a lot of candidates for the field -events and mighty few for the track. And here it -is the first of May and the Springdale meet is little -over a month off. Even if we found fellows now to -come out and work for track positions there is -scarcely time to develop them. And, for my part, I -doubt that we can get any. Guy made a pretty good -canvass of the school last month and I think he’s got -hold of about all the talent there is. Seems to me, -then, that the only thing to do is for us fellows to -see if we can’t come to the rescue and round out -the team better. I’ve never run a half-mile in competition -and don’t know what I could do, but I’m -willing to try. That would give me three events -but if they didn’t come too close together I guess -I could manage them. And it seems to me that -there are others who could attempt more than they -are attempting now. How about you, Harry? -You’re down for the shot and hammer, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I’ll try anything once, Toby. The -trouble is that I don’t think I’m good for anything -else, and a month is short time to learn new tricks.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_181"></a>[181]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, you know what you can do and can’t do. -Still, I think that some others of us could double -up, so to speak. We haven’t but one miler on the -team, as you know. Smith is doing his best, but -unless he travels faster than he did last year he -won’t get a point. Springdale, from what I can -learn, is especially strong this year at the mile, -half and quarter and we’ve got to get some seconds -and thirds in those events to have a chance at winning. -Presser is willing to do all he possibly can, -but he can’t turn out runners if he isn’t given material -to work on. So, as I’ve said, it seems to me -it would be a good plan to induce some of the fellows -who are trying for field events to go in for -track work. I don’t suppose it’s possible to take, -say, a chap who has never done anything but jumping -and make a good half-miler of him in a month, -but if we can make him good enough to capture a -third we’re helping our chances.”</p> - -<p>“I think that’s a splendid idea,” said Captain -Felker. “Of course, there are some of us who -couldn’t take up more than we are taking. I, for -one. I’d be willing enough, but you simply can’t -run sprints or distances and do yourself justice at -the pole-vault. Besides that, the arrangement of -events interferes. But I do think there are fellows -on the team who will be willing to enter two or, in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_182"></a>[182]</span> -some cases, even three events. I wish we could get -up some enthusiasm for the mile and the half-mile. -Fellows seem to hold off from those events -as if they were poison. I dare say they think they’re -harder work. In a way they are, or, at least, they -require a more sustained effort than the sprints -and hurdles. And speaking of hurdles, we need -a bigger field there. Lanny’s got all he can manage -with the sprints, although he intends to try the high -hurdles too. The only fellow we have in sight now -for the low sticks is Arthur here. We ought to -have four men for every event on the program, and -that’s the truth of it.”</p> - -<p>“I’m willing to try the sprints if you think it -will do any good,” said Arthur Beaton. “I might -push some Springdale fellow out in the trials, anyway.”</p> - -<p>“I’d suggest,” said Partridge, “that Guy and -Skeet get together and go over the list and see what -can be done in the way you suggest, Toby. As -I said before, I’ll try anything anyone wants me -to. Anything, that is, except the pole-vault. I -don’t want to break my neck!”</p> - -<p>“There are about ten fellows trying for the -sprints,” said Lanny. “We don’t need more than -half of them. Why can’t some of them be turned -into hurdlers, Guy? Any fellow who can do the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_183"></a>[183]</span> -hundred on the flat can do it over the sticks if he’s -once shown how.”</p> - -<p>“Sure he can,” agreed Harry. “Call a meeting -of the candidates, Guy, and tell each one what’s -expected of him. Don’t just say, ‘Will you do this?’ -but tell ’em they’ve got to! Get Toby to talk to -’em and put some pep in ’em. Make ’em understand -that we’ve got to lick Springdale next month and -that——”</p> - -<p>“The trouble is,” interrupted Lanny, “that the -fellows don’t take track athletics seriously. It’s got -to be sort of the style to smile when you mention -the subject. We’ve run so to football and baseball -that we don’t think anything else is worth while. -Even the fellows who are on the team go around -with a half-apologetic grin, as much as to say, ‘I’m -on the Track Team. Isn’t it a joke?’ What ought -to be done in this school is to get track athletics -back where they belong as a major sport.”</p> - -<p>“And the best way to do that,” said Sears, “is -to everlastingly wallop Springdale.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but——”</p> - -<p>“I think there ought to be more incentive for -fellows to come out for the team,” said Harry -Partridge. “Of course, if a chap is fond of running -or jumping or hurdling he’s going to do it without -persuasion, but there are lots of fellows, I guess,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_184"></a>[184]</span> -who have the making of good track or field men -who don’t realize it and don’t think about it. Of -course, it’s too late this year, but next——”</p> - -<p>“Well, it’s this year that’s worrying me,” broke -in Guy. “Whoever comes after me can bother -about next year.”</p> - -<p>“Still,” said Sears earnestly, “we’ve got to work -for the future as well as the present; or we should -anyway. I’ve sometimes wondered if we couldn’t -enlarge the interest by holding a meet about the -middle of the season, a handicap meet between -classes. Once get a fellow interested and if he has -anything in him he wants to get it out. And so -he keeps on.”</p> - -<p>“That’s a good scheme,” agreed Guy. “Funny -we’ve never thought of it. But it’s too late for this -spring. What we might do, though, is to hold an -open meet and work up some enthusiasm that way. -It would be a good thing, anyway, for the team.”</p> - -<p>“Couldn’t we get a meet with some other -school?” asked the manager. “Highland Hall or -someone.”</p> - -<p>“Guy’s scheme would answer the same purpose,” -said Sears. “We could talk it up, get the candidates -themselves interested in it and get the school -interested, too. It might show us some material -we didn’t know of. Some fellows will do stunts<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_185"></a>[185]</span> -in competition that they wouldn’t think of in -practice.”</p> - -<p>“Ought to be prizes, I suppose,” said Lanny. -“How about it?”</p> - -<p>“Ought to be, yes,” agreed Guy; “but where’d -we get them? There isn’t enough money to fix -the track up decently.”</p> - -<p>“Instead of individual prizes for each event,” -offered Manager Beaton, “we might have a single -prize for the best performance, or something like -that.”</p> - -<p>That was discussed and eventually abandoned. -As Guy pointed out, it would be a mighty difficult -matter to decide which was the best performance -and the awarding of the prize might lead to a lot -of dissatisfaction amongst the less fortunate contenders. -“We don’t need prizes,” he said. “We’ll -publish the names of the winners and that will -be enough.”</p> - -<p>“Arthur’s idea might be used, though,” said -Sears thoughtfully, “in the Springdale meet. How -would it do to have some sort of a trophy to go -to the fellow winning the most points for us?”</p> - -<p>“What sort of a trophy?” asked Lanny.</p> - -<p>“Well, nothing expensive, of course. It would -be something to work for, and just now, when we -want to induce fellows to take up new stuff, it<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_186"></a>[186]</span> -mightn’t be a bad idea to give them something—er—tangible -to go after. Maybe just a pewter mug -would do.”</p> - -<p>“Suppose two or three fellows scored the same -number of points?” asked Arthur. “That might -easily happen, mightn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I suppose it might.” Sears considered. -“Then let each have possession of the mug for a -certain time.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, your idea is to have the thing competed for -each year?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, don’t you think so?”</p> - -<p>“Tell you what,” said Lanny. “Get some of the -girls to make a stunning purple banner—no, pennant—and -give it to the fellow who does the best -work for us, as Toby suggests. In case two or -more win the same number of points, take into -consideration the fellows’ performances. If two -chaps each won, say, eight points for us, the one -who made the better record for his event would -get the flag. And then let him keep it and we’ll -find a new one for next year. Call it the Track -Trophy and have it understood that, next to the -Victoria Cross, it’s the biggest honor you can -win!”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” assented Harry Partridge, -“but it strikes me that a silver or even a pewter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_187"></a>[187]</span> -mug would make more of a hit than a pennant.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so,” responded Lanny. “Besides,” -he added, with a smile, “that mug would cost us -money, and the pennant won’t!” The others -laughed.</p> - -<p>“Still,” said Arthur Beaton, “a few of us might -dig down for it. You can get a pretty good-looking -mug for three dollars.”</p> - -<p>“Speak for yourself, old scout,” protested Guy. -“I’m poorer than the Athletic Committee, and that’s -pretty poor! Let’s make it a pennant. It doesn’t -matter what it is, really, so long as it is understood -that the thing’s worth winning. It could -be made of silk and have a suitable inscription on -it, like ‘For Valor’—— No, that wouldn’t do. -‘For Worth?’ ‘For——’”</p> - -<p>“For Instance,” laughed Lanny. “Never mind -an inscription. Just have ‘C. H. S.’ on it.”</p> - -<p>“With a winged foot,” suggested Arthur.</p> - -<p>“Then if I won it throwing the hammer,” said -Harry Partridge, “it wouldn’t be what you’d call -appropriate, would it?”</p> - -<p>“In a general way——” began Arthur.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got it,” interrupted Lanny. “A purple silk -pennant with a green laurel wreath inclosing the -letters ‘C. H. S.’ in white. How’s that?”</p> - -<p>“Sounds mighty good-looking,” replied Sears,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_188"></a>[188]</span> -and the rest agreed. Guy Felker, however, was a -trifle impatient of the subject.</p> - -<p>“We can find a design easy enough later,” he -said. “The question is whether it’s worth doing.”</p> - -<p>“It certainly is,” asserted Sears, and the others -agreed.</p> - -<p>“Anything that will convince the fellows that -it’s worth while trying to do all they can for the -team, is worth doing,” said Lanny decidedly. “Remember, -Guy, that you and Skeet have got to persuade -chaps to go in for stunts they’ve never tried, -in many cases.”</p> - -<p>“But won’t it look,” asked Arthur, “as if we were -offering this pennant just to—to——”</p> - -<p>“I get your idea,” said Lanny. “How would it -do if we kept out of it and let the girls offer it? -We might suggest it to them and let them do the -whole thing. Louise Brent would be a good one -to start it up.”</p> - -<p>“That’s better,” said Guy. “We’ll keep out of -it entirely. Suppose you attend to the—the negotiations, -Lanny. You’re a popular chap with the -ladies!”</p> - -<p>“Let Toby do it,” Lanny replied.</p> - -<p>“It is moved and seconded that Lanny be appointed -a committee of one to negotiate with Louise -Brent in the matter of a purple silk pennant. All<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_189"></a>[189]</span> -those in favor will so signify by raising their right -hands. One, two, three, four. It is a vote, gentlemen.” -Toby bowed gravely to Lanny.</p> - -<p>“All right,” laughed the latter. “It’s all up -when Toby’s in the chair, anyway! Any other -business before the meeting, Guy?”</p> - -<p>“No, I guess not. We’ll see what can be done -with persuading the fellows to try new stunts. -Maybe it’ll work out fine. I hope so. Much -obliged for coming around, anyhow. I was getting -a bit discouraged, to tell the honest truth. -Skeet’s been growling for days and wanting to -know how I expected him to make a team out of -nothing. And the trouble was I couldn’t tell him! -You fellows needn’t run off so early, though.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going home and pile into bed,” replied -Lanny gravely. “From now on I shall take the -very best care of myself because, you see, I mean -to get that purple pennant.”</p> - -<p>“You?” jeered Harry Partridge. “You haven’t -the ghost of a show, you old tow-head! I only have -to close my eyes to see that thing hanging over -my mantel!”</p> - -<p>“Huh! Open ’em again and wake up! Good-night, -all!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_190"></a>[190]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br /> -<small>THE SQUAD AT WORK</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">On Monday work for the Track Team entrants -was no different than usual. Perry, -one of a bunch of seven or eight sprinters, -practiced starts, did two fifty-yard dashes and finally -swung through the two hundred and twenty. -There were no trials, nor were any of the number -allowed to go faster than a “hustle,” which was -Skeet’s term for a pace that was something like -a glorified jog. Lanny, who was now giving three -afternoons each week to track work, spent much -of his time coaching the rest, and to him Perry -owed his first real understanding of what might -be called the philosophy of the crouching start. -Lanny, watching Perry and two others at the mark, -stopped proceedings.</p> - -<p>“Just a minute, you fellows,” he said. “Now, -look here. You, Hull, and you, Soper, have got -your holes placed wrong. Your front hole, Hull, -is too far from the mark for you. You’re losing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_191"></a>[191]</span> -distance every time. Put that front hole so that -your instep will come opposite your right knee when -you’re down, and dig your hole deeper, man; that -scratch in the ground doesn’t give you any purchase. -That’s the ticket, dig it out. Now then, -try that. Better? Hold on, though; you’re straddled -too much. The idea is that when you get -away your rear foot will travel straight forward. -Your back hole is too far to the right. Put it about -here and see how it goes. That’s the trouble with -you, too, Soper. Your back hole is too far back -and too wide of the line through your body.”</p> - -<p>The two boys followed instructions and presently -tried another start. When they had run through -their dozen or fifteen yards and walked back, Lanny -began again.</p> - -<p>“As near as I can tell, fellows,” he said, “neither -of you really understand why you’re doing this. -You appear to have the idea that when you start -off you have to throw your body forward. The -result is that you both go off with a jump and -you don’t get your stride until you’re eight or ten -yards away. Watch me a minute, please. You -fellows, too; you’re none of you getting off well. -Now, then, fingers back of the mark, spread enough -to carry your weight easily, but not tense; there -ought to be a little spring to them as they lift.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_192"></a>[192]</span> -Now in setting your weight goes forward on your -fingers and the <em>ball</em> of your left foot. Don’t try -to put your body over the line; only the head and -shoulders. Now, when the pistol goes off, don’t -give a jump as though you were going to play leap-frog -all the way down to the tape. Let yourself -fall forward naturally, as you’re bound to when you -lift your hands, and then run. That’s the whole -idea of that start. You’re falling forward and you -run to keep from going on your face. Bring your -rear foot forward on a straight line, raise your -body slowly—don’t jerk your shoulders up—and -get your stride in the first three or four steps at -the most. Don’t try for long steps. Take short -ones, at least at first until you learn to lengthen -them without throwing yourself off. When you’re -running the hundred yards, fellows, about fifty per -cent. of it depends on the way you get off your -mark. Races are won or lost right there. The -idea is to get away quick, <em>but</em> get your stride at -once. Now, then, watch me and see how I do it.”</p> - -<p>That, thought Perry, as his gaze followed -Lanny’s bare legs twinkling down the path, simplified -the business. No one had told him that it -was the falling forward of his body that gave him -speed in getting away from the mark. He had -been, in fact, struggling against that very thing, trying<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_193"></a>[193]</span> -to recover his equilibrium at the earliest possible -moment and, in that effort, making his second -step a kind of leap in the air and wrenching -his head and shoulders backward with an awkward -and often painful motion. The result had been -that for at least a half-dozen strides he had been -“running up and down.” Having once grasped the -“why and where for,” Perry found that the crouching -start was the simplest thing in the world! Not -that he mastered it that afternoon or for many -succeeding afternoons, but each time it came easier -and eventually he found that he could reach his -stride within three or four steps of the mark and -at twenty yards be running at top speed.</p> - -<p>That afternoon’s work-out ended with a “hustle” -over the two-twenty, and when, slowing up from -that, Perry turned to seek Skeet and report, he -caught a glimpse of Fudge, far down the field, hopping -ludicrously on one foot with a shot poised in -upstretched hand. Perry smiled sympathetically as -the shot sped away for a scant thirty feet. Fudge, -he feared, was not making a howling success of -his athletic endeavors. There was a rumor of an -impending cut in the squad and Perry wondered -whether he and Fudge would survive it. He almost -dared to think that he would, for, excepting -Lanny and Kirke and, possibly, Soper, his work<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_194"></a>[194]</span> -was as good as any so far. As for Fudge, however, -he knew that Falkland, Partridge and Brimmer -were all from six to eight feet better with the shot, -and he doubted that Skeet would retain more than -three fellows for the weight events. Having been -released by the coach, with instructions to report -a quarter of an hour earlier on the morrow, Perry -sought the dressing-room, waited his turn at the -shower, and finally dressed and went in search of -Fudge. The shot-putters were not in sight, though, -and, hesitating whether to remain and watch baseball -practice or continue his search for his chum, -he at last left the field and made his way back along -Common Street to where, in the vacant block behind -the field, the weight candidates were practicing -with the hammer.</p> - -<p>Partridge was in charge, and the squad consisted -of Fudge, George Falkland and Thad Brimmer, -while four or five spectators looked on from a safe -distance behind the ring. Perry joined these and -watched Harry Partridge whirl the twelve-pound -weight and send it sailing far across the turf. None -of them was making any great effort for distance, -however, the matter of form still being the -consideration. Fudge followed Partridge, and -Perry, who had never yet seen his friend essay the -hammer-throw, was prepared to resent the snickers<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_195"></a>[195]</span> -or amused comments of the watchers beside him. -But Fudge proved something of a revelation. Awkward -with the shot he undoubtedly was, and it was -much of a question whether he would ever learn -to handle that object successfully, but when it came -to throwing the hammer Fudge was another fellow. -His sturdy body turned with the swinging -weight, his arms outstretched, his feet twinkling -marvelously above the trampled ground. Then he -stopped quickly, the whirling hammer dipped, rose -and, released, arched off like a shot from a mortar, -and Fudge, recovering, pulled up with a foot -against the wooden rim.</p> - -<p>“Bully!” commended Partridge warmly. “That -was all right, Fudge! And you see what I mean -about not pulling back on the release, don’t you? -That was mighty good form! Mighty good! Get -your sweater on and keep moving. All right, -George. Now see if you handle your feet better.”</p> - -<p>Perhaps Falkland was so busy trying to manage -his feet correctly that he forgot the flying weight. -At all events, at the completion of the second turn -the ball of the hammer struck the ground, plowed -up a foot of the soft turf and sent Falkland head -over heels before he could let go the handle! Fortunately, -he picked himself up unhurt, and the -laughter of the audience brought only a sheepish<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_196"></a>[196]</span> -grin to his face. While he regained his breath -Thad Brimmer took his turn. After that Falkland -again tried and got the weight away without misadventure, -although not to the satisfaction of Partridge. -Fudge threw again and, while the result -was not as good as that of his former performance, -did very well. Partridge explained again, and -again threw, and the practice was over.</p> - -<p>“That was a peach of a throw, Fudge,” commended -Perry, as he ranged himself beside his -friend. “I didn’t know you could do it like that!”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t hard,” replied Fudge carelessly, “if you -know how.” But he managed to convey by his -tone that it <em>was</em> hard and that a great deal of -credit was deserved by one William Shaw. “I guess -the time before the last I must have made a hundred -and fifty feet easy!”</p> - -<p>Fudge’s estimate was somewhat too generous, but -Perry accepted it unquestionably and accorded admiration. -He waited outside while Fudge performed -his ablutions and arrayed himself in his -street attire, and then, in the wake of the baseball -players, they made their way back to town. Fudge, -plainly pleased with himself, had a good deal to -say regarding the gentle art of throwing the hammer, -and Perry listened patiently until the subject -was exhausted. Then, and by that time they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_197"></a>[197]</span> -were leaning against Fudge’s front gate in the -fragrant warmth of the May afternoon, Perry -said:</p> - -<p>“Say, Fudge, I’ve been thinking.”</p> - -<p>“Uh-huh,” responded Fudge disinterestedly.</p> - -<p>“About Mr. Addicks.”</p> - -<p>“Anything new?” asked Fudge eagerly. “Have -you seen him?”</p> - -<p>Perry shook his head. “No, but—but I’ve been -thinking.”</p> - -<p>“You said that once,” complained Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t believe he’s so awfully bad, do -you? He was mighty nice to us the other day, -Fudge. Lots of folks would have kicked us downstairs -if they’d caught us listening outside the door -like that. And he doesn’t—doesn’t <em>look</em> bad, now -does he?”</p> - -<p>“N-no.” Fudge shook his head in agreement. -“No, he doesn’t. But we know he is, and——”</p> - -<p>“But we don’t know what temptation he may -have had, Fudge,” pleaded Perry. “Maybe he was -starving or—or something. Of course, it isn’t right -to rob even if you are starving, but—but it makes -it less bad, doesn’t it? And, for all we know, he -may be trying to be better and—and live it down, -eh? See what I mean?”</p> - -<p>“Sure, and that may be so, too.” Fudge knit his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_198"></a>[198]</span> -brows and looked extremely wise. “Maybe he’s -repented.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what I think,” said the other eagerly. -“And so it seems to me we’d ought to help him -all we can, Fudge, instead of—instead of hunting -him down!”</p> - -<p>“We aren’t hunting him down,” objected Fudge.</p> - -<p>“We have been. If we went to the police to-day -and told all we know, they’d grab him in a minute, -wouldn’t they?”</p> - -<p>Fudge kicked the fence-post and hesitated. “I -suppose so,” he replied finally. “Only, we wouldn’t -go to the police, Perry. We’d go to the express -company, because they offer the reward.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want the reward,” declared Perry -warmly. “And neither do you!”</p> - -<p>Fudge looked a little bit startled. “N-no——”</p> - -<p>“Taking a reward for sending him to prison -now when he’s trying to lead a decent life and—and -establish himself in business would be rotten! -The money wouldn’t bring anything but -bad luck, either. No, sir, what we’ve got to do -is stand by him and do all we can to help him, -Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes, but how can we? What can we do?”</p> - -<p>“Well, for one thing, maybe we could see that -he got some work. If he’s going to stay honest,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_199"></a>[199]</span> -he mustn’t be poor, because being poor is what -leads folks to commit crimes, don’t you see?”</p> - -<p>“Playing the piano brings him money, doesn’t -it?”</p> - -<p>“Not much, I guess. What we ought to do is -to see if we can’t find someone who will give him -some civil engineering to do. I—I’ll bet he’s a good -civil engineer, too!”</p> - -<p>“So do I,” asserted Fudge. “I’ll bet he can engineer -all around those fellows who did that work -for Mr. Brent out there.”</p> - -<p>“That’s what a civil engineer does, isn’t it?” -asked Perry. “I mean, lays out streets and bridges -and—and things.”</p> - -<p>Fudge nodded. “And surveys things, too.”</p> - -<p>“Well, now, say, I was wondering whether we -couldn’t ask Morris to ask his father to give him -a job.”</p> - -<p>“Give Morris a job?”</p> - -<p>“No, Mr. Addicks. He’s got a lot more land out -there that hasn’t been surveyed, I’ll bet. And if -Morris asked him to give some of the work to Mr. -Addicks—of course, not all of it, but some of it—I -guess he would. He’s mighty fond of Morris.”</p> - -<p>Fudge considered silently. The idea struck him -as being perfectly feasible, even brilliant, but he -wished he had thought of it himself. After a moment:<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_200"></a>[200]</span> -“Morris isn’t the one, though, to ask Mr. -Brent,” he announced.</p> - -<p>“Who is?”</p> - -<p>“Louise.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know her except to speak to, and I -wouldn’t like to ask her. You could, though, -couldn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Mm, maybe. I’ve got a better scheme than -that, though, Perry. You listen. You know, Dick -and Louise are great friends, and if we went to -Dick and told him about Mr. Addicks and asked -him to ask her to ask her father——”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I don’t think we ought to tell anyone, -even Dick Lovering, about Mr. Addicks.”</p> - -<p>“We don’t need to tell him <em>that</em> part of it. We’ll -just say that he’s a—a tip-top fellow, which he is, -and that he’s just come here and needs work like -anything; that he has to live in one room and -maybe doesn’t have enough to eat, and how he -worked his way through college running a livery -stable, and lost his money in oil or something, and -all that. Dick’s just the fellow to help anyone -like that. He—he just loves to help folks!”</p> - -<p>“Well, if we could do it that way, without letting -out about Mr. Addicks being a train-robber, -it would be fine,” replied Perry heartily. “Shall -we, Fudge?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_201"></a>[201]</span></p> - -<p>“Uh-huh, we’ll go around to-night and see Dick. -I’ll just bet you anything that Mr. Brent could -give him a lot of things to do if he wanted to. -And I’ll bet Mr. Addicks is the fellow to do them, -too!”</p> - -<p>“Yes, there’s something about him that makes -you know he’s smart,” confirmed Perry enthusiastically. -“It would be dandy if we could help him—help -him——”</p> - -<p>“Get on his feet again,” supplied Fudge, whose -literary efforts had provided him with a fine collection -of phrases. “Yes, sir, and it’s great we -thought of doing it, Perry.”</p> - -<p>Perry was too pleased to challenge his friend’s -use of the word “we,” and in a few minutes they -had parted, having agreed to meet at half-past seven -at the corner of Troutman and E Streets and put -the case before Dick Lovering.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_202"></a>[202]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -<small>THE OFFICER AT THE DOOR</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Dick was just leaving the house when the -boys arrived there that evening, and Eli -Yale was awaiting him at the curb, but he -instantly offered to return. Since the evening -had turned cool, they went inside, seating -themselves in the little room to the right -that was at once parlor, living-room, library and -Dick’s study.</p> - -<p>It was a comfortable, homelike little room, with -a big table by the front windows whereat Dick -studied and conducted his affairs, a smaller one, -in the center of the warmly-hued carpet, flanked -by two easy chairs,—one of which, a deeply tufted -leather affair, was Dick’s especial property,—a -couch covered with a gaily colored Afghan robe, -two book-cases, an old-fashioned foot-rest, more -chairs and, curled up on one of them, a fluffy -smoke-gray cat. Between the book-shelves was a -fireplace and on the marble ledge above, a brass-dialed,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_203"></a>[203]</span> -ebony-cased clock ticked with dignified deliberation, -keeping perfect time with the purring of -Lady Gray. On the big table a green-shaded student -lamp threw a pleasant light over the neat piles -of books and papers. There was little that was -either new or expensive in the room, but everything, -from the oldest side-chair to the few pictures -on the walls, proclaimed friendliness and -comfort.</p> - -<p>Fudge was the spokesman, and he managed to -tell his story with commendable brevity, although -he could not help embroidering it with a few harmless -frills. Dick was interested at once. If he -suspected that he was not being told quite all there -was to tell, he made no sign. When Fudge had -reached a slightly breathless but triumphant conclusion -Dick nodded. “I’ll be glad to speak to -Louise,” he said, “and to the others as well. I -don’t believe that Mr. Brent is employing any surveyors -just now, for I think he has done all he -is going to do on the addition at present. There’s -talk of re-locating the trolley line that runs over -to Sterling and I believe he is not going to do -anything more until that has been settled. But -we’ll do what we can, Fudge, the lot of us. If -it’s as bad as you say with this chap, he ought to -have some work given him. Do you suppose he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_204"></a>[204]</span> -can do anything else if there’s no engineering just -now?”</p> - -<p>“He can run a livery stable,” said Fudge doubtfully.</p> - -<p>“And punch cattle,” added Perry.</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid there isn’t much chance of his getting -a job at cattle-punching in Clearfield,” Dick -laughed. “All right, fellows, I’ll speak about it -this evening. I was just going to run over to the -Brents’ when you came. Look me up to-morrow -and I’ll tell you what the result is.”</p> - -<p>They took their departure, highly satisfied, and -Dick sped away in Eli. When he reached Brentwood -he found Louise and Lanny in absorbed discussion -of the Track Trophy. Louise Brent was -a tall, blue-eyed girl of fifteen, with a fair skin and -much yellow-brown hair. She was attractive more -on account of her expression than her features. -Dick was made welcome and Lanny explained about -the trophy, and the three laid plans and drew -sketches for the better part of an hour. Louise -was enthusiastic and promised to interest the other -girls at once. “You just wait, Lanny,” she said.</p> - -<p>“It’s going to be the most scrumptious pennant -you ever saw. We’ll get Lila Abbey to do the laurel -wreath part. She’s perfectly wonderful at that -sort of thing. Oughtn’t we to put it on a stick?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_205"></a>[205]</span></p> - -<p>“I suppose so. And tie it with purple ribbons, -eh?”</p> - -<p>“Of course.” Louise reflected, tapping a pencil -against her white teeth. “It isn’t going to be awfully -easy, but we’ll do it all right. When ought -we to have it done?”</p> - -<p>“Why, I guess there’s no hurry. Any time before -the Springdale meet will do, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Better have it on exhibition a week or so in one -of the windows down town,” suggested Dick.</p> - -<p>“We can have it done in two weeks, I’m certain,” -said Louise. “I’ll get a whole lot of the -girls around here some afternoon and we’ll work -on it. And—and it’s supposed to be our idea entirely, -you say, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, we thought it would be better like that. -You needn’t tell the others that we know anything -about it. Just sort of give them to understand -that it’s your idea and that Guy and the rest of -us are tickled to death with it.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t want to pretend I thought of it,” -replied Louise, “because, of course, I didn’t, but I -don’t suppose anyone will ask who did think of it. -What we ought to do, first of all, I guess, is to -make a pattern of it so as to get it just the right -size.”</p> - -<p>“Ought to have a drawing made, I’d say,” remarked<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_206"></a>[206]</span> -Dick, “so you’ll know just where the lettering -goes and all that.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, you’re just trying to make it harder!” -sighed Louise. “You’re quite right, though; only -I’m sure I don’t know who could do it. I know -I couldn’t. Could you, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“Great Scott, no! I can’t draw a straight line.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you’ll find someone,” said Dick reassuringly. -“Or,” struck by a sudden thought, “I’ll tell -you what, Louise. There’s a chap here in town, -a civil engineer named Addicks, who would probably -be glad to make a drawing of the thing. I -was going to speak to you about him later. He’s -out of work and having rather a hard time of it. -Fudge and Perry Hull came to see me this evening -just before I left the house and told me about -him. The two kids were quite excited; wanted me -to see you and ask you to try and get your father -to give him some work. Philanthropy’s rather a -new stunt for Fudge, but he made out a bully case -for the chap; got me all wrought up about him! -Fudge says he has a room in that block where Ginter’s -Bakery is and cooks his own meals there and -is frightfully hard up.”</p> - -<p>“The poor man!” said Louise.</p> - -<p>“Yes, according to Fudge, he lives on sausages -and bread and coffee.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_207"></a>[207]</span></p> - -<p>“Sausages aren’t bad,” said Lanny judicially. -“Getting a bit late for them, though. If I were he, -I’d switch to lamb chops.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be horrid,” said Louise. “Of course I’ll -ask papa, Dick. And I’ll just insist on his finding -something for the poor man to do. I dare say -papa knows the railroad people well enough to get -them to give him work.”</p> - -<p>“The railroad people?” asked Dick.</p> - -<p>“Yes, you said he was an engineer, didn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Civil engineer, not railway, Louise.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! That’s different, isn’t it? Civil engineers -survey things, don’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Correct,” replied Lanny. “Have you forgotten -the famous poem written by a civil engineer? -Something about ‘I’m monarch of all I survey; My -right there is none to dispute’; remember?”</p> - -<p>“That was Cowper,” replied Louise scathingly. -“And he was a poet, not a civil engineer.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, all right! Of the two I’d rather be the -engineer, though, and live on sausages.”</p> - -<p>“Lanny, you’re crazy in the head,” laughed -Dick.</p> - -<p>“He’s just silly,” corrected Louise. “Papa has a -good deal of surveying done, I think, Dick, and -I’m sure he could find some for this Mister——”</p> - -<p>“Addicks is the name,” prompted Dick. “I wish<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_208"></a>[208]</span> -you’d ask him, anyway. I suppose he isn’t in -this evening?”</p> - -<p>“No, he and mamma went out to make a call. -Maybe he will be back before you go, though.”</p> - -<p>“Does he usually stay out until midnight?” said -Lanny innocently. Louise blushed a little.</p> - -<p>“You’re quite horrid this evening,” she charged. -“If you want me to make that pennant for you, -you’d better behave yourself.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll do the nicest thing I know,” returned Lanny -sweetly. “I’ll go home!”</p> - -<p>The next afternoon Clearfield played Fernwood -High School on the diamond and beat the visiting -nine decisively, 14 to 3. The work of the purple -team was rather ragged and neither Haley nor -Nostrand, both of whom pitched that afternoon, -was in good form. Hits were frequent on both -sides, but Clearfield’s performance in the field prevented -many runs by the visitors. Fernwood, on -the other hand, had two bad innings, during which -their infield threw the ball wild, and errors, coupled -with some timely hitting by Bryan, Cotner -and Merrick, in especial, enabled the home team -to pile up a safe score before the game was half -over. As Lanny was working with the track men -that afternoon, his place was taken by Terry Carson, -and the substitute caught a nearly perfect game<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_209"></a>[209]</span> -until the eighth inning when a foul tip glanced -away from a bat and split one of his fingers. After -that McCoy went behind the plate, and it was a -marvel that the visitors didn’t pull the game out -of the fire, for Sprague McCoy, an outfielder, was -quite at sea in the backstop position. Nostrand, -however, who was in the points during the last -four innings, got himself together and managed to -stave off two batting rallies. The incident opened -Dick’s eyes to the fact that a second substitute -catcher was needed, and he and Captain Jones went -a-hunting. It was Pete Robey upon whom their -choice finally fell, and Pete found himself suddenly -elevated from an insecure position amongst the rabble -to a seat on the first team bench. But that was -a day or two later. To-day Dick and Warner Jones -were still discussing the matter when they left the -field, and it was into that discussion that Fudge -broke when he and Perry caught up with the older -boys just as Dick swung himself into the runabout.</p> - -<p>“Dick, did you find out anything last night?” -asked Fudge eagerly.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Fudge! Hello, Perry! Why, yes, something. -Pile in here and I’ll tell you in a minute. -Let Perry sit in your lap, Warner, will you? -Fudge, you squat on the floor.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_210"></a>[210]</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t drag your feet, though,” warned the captain -humorously, “or you’ll stop the car.” He and -Dick resumed their discussion of the catcher question -and kept it up until Warner got out at his -gate. When they trundled on Dick turned to the -expectant Fudge.</p> - -<p>“I spoke to Louise last night, Fudge, about your -friend, and then she spoke to her father this morning. -I suspect that he didn’t much want to hire -What’s-his-name, but Louise is a very determined -person and she finally got him to say that if this -friend of yours would call on him at his office to-morrow -morning—he’s in New York to-day—he’d -talk with him. Louise telephoned me at breakfast -about it. She said Mr. Brent was very obstinate -at first.”</p> - -<p>“That’s b-b-bully!” exclaimed Fudge.</p> - -<p>“Well, don’t expect too much,” warned Dick. -“Mr. Brent isn’t likely to hire him unless he can -prove that he knows his business. I know enough -about Mr. Brent to be certain of that, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Sure, but he does know his business! He’s a -very fine civil engineer.”</p> - -<p>“How do you know?” asked Dick gravely. “Has -he ever done any work for you?”</p> - -<p>Perry chuckled, and Fudge reddened a bit. “No, -but—but you can t-t-t-tell he is, Dick!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_211"></a>[211]</span></p> - -<p>“I see. Well, do you think he can draw?”</p> - -<p>Fudge looked doubtfully at Perry, found no help -there and replied sturdily: “You bet he can! He’s -a great drawer, he is!”</p> - -<p>Dick smiled as he slowed down at Perry’s gate. -“I asked because the girls are going to make a silk -pennant as a prize for the Track Team and they -want someone to make a drawing of it to work -by. I told Louise that perhaps this fellow Addicks -could do it for them. Do you think he -could?”</p> - -<p>“I know he could,” answered Fudge, with beautiful -faith. “What’s it for, this pennant?”</p> - -<p>“Why, it’s to go, I believe, to the fellow who does -the best work for us in the meet with Springdale. -It’s to be rather a gorgeous affair; purple silk with -green leaves and white lettering. Suppose you see -Mr. Addicks and tell him about it and ask if he -will do it. There isn’t much money in it, because -the girls have got to go to quite a little expense -before they’re through, I guess. Louise thought -a dollar would be enough, but you could ask him -what he’d do it for. If it wasn’t much more than -that, I guess they’d pay it. Mind doing that?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed! We’ll do it right now. It’s just -around the corner. Want to come along?”</p> - -<p>“Thanks, no, I’ve got to get home. Call me up<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_212"></a>[212]</span> -this evening and tell me what he says. Much -obliged, and I hope that job will pan out, fellows. -Good-night!”</p> - -<p>It was getting dark in the building when Fudge -and Perry went in and climbed the stairs. Halfway -up they encountered some of the workers in -the glove factory, but after that the building seemed -deserted. At the top of the last flight, though, they -discovered that it wasn’t, for, in front of Mr. Addicks’ -door at the end of the twilit corridor a bulky -figure stood. As the boys looked the figure took -on the appearance of a policeman. The policeman—they -could see him more plainly now that their eyes -had accustomed themselves to the half darkness—rapped -loudly, imperatively on the door. He -waited, and, as there was no response, he tried the -handle. The door was locked. Then he bent close -to the sign, as though making certain he was not -mistaken, glanced up at the closed transom and -swung around. Fudge dragged Perry forward and -began an examination of the signs on the nearer -portals as the policeman, walking almost noiselessly -on rubber-soled shoes, passed them with a brief -but searching glance. As his quiet footfalls died -away in the hall below Fudge turned a wild, -alarmed gaze on Perry.</p> - -<p>“<em>They’re after him!</em>” he whispered hoarsely.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_213"></a>[213]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br /> -<small>THE TRAIN-ROBBER IS WARNED</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Mr. Myron Addicks returned home -rather later than usual that afternoon. Although -he had knocked about the world a -good deal during his twenty-seven years, and had -put up with a good many discomforts, he had been -telling himself of late that his present domicile was -about as dreary and unsatisfactory as any he had -ever endured. The best thing he could say of it -was that the rent was cheap, cheaper than that of -any other room he had been able to find in Clearfield. -But there was little else to be said in its -favor. There was no view to be enjoyed, the building -was silent and lonely after dark—save in the -basement, from whence a strong odor of baking -arose every night—and a bath was almost an impossibility. -Unfortunately, until his income had at -least doubled itself, he could not afford to pay more, -and this afternoon, tramping along a country road -outside of town, he had reached the conclusion that<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_214"></a>[214]</span> -any increase in his income was not to be expected -and that the best thing he could do was to hit the -trail back West. In short, he was rather discouraged -to-day, a condition of mind very unusual -with him, and when he entered the building -to climb the two flights to his cheerless “home” -he had just about determined to pack his battered -trunk.</p> - -<p>He stopped, as was his custom, to apply a match -to the single gas-jet at the top of the first flight, -and repeated the operation in the hall above. And -having turned the key to his liking he heard his -name spoken and looked into the anxious faces of -Fudge and Perry.</p> - -<p>“Hello!” he greeted them. “What are you fellows -doing up here?”</p> - -<p>His tone lacked warmth, but the boys didn’t notice -the fact.</p> - -<p>“We came to see you about something,” replied -Fudge, in lowered voice. And then he glanced apprehensively -toward the stairs. “Do you mind if -we go in your room, sir?”</p> - -<p>“Why, no; glad to have you.” Mr. Addicks produced -his key and opened his door. “Wait till I -light up or you’ll break your necks in here. Mighty -nice of you boys to call.” The gas shed light on -the rather bare room and Mr. Addicks nodded<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_215"></a>[215]</span> -at the chairs. “Sit down and confess all,” he -went on. “How’s the world been treating you -two?”</p> - -<p>“All right, sir,” answered Fudge hurriedly. “But -that isn’t it. What we want to tell you is that—that -they’re after you, sir.”</p> - -<p>“After me?” asked the other mildly. “Who -is?”</p> - -<p>“The—the police, sir.” Fudge continued breathlessly. -“We came up about a half-hour ago and -he didn’t hear us, I guess, and he knocked and then -he tried the door. We made believe——”</p> - -<p>“Whoa! Back up! Let’s have this right, Shaw. -You came up here to see me a half-hour ago and -saw someone knock on my door and try to open -it. Who was he?”</p> - -<p>“A policeman, Mr. Addicks; a big, fat policeman. -We made believe we were looking for another -room and he went out again and we stayed -here to warn you.”</p> - -<p>“Why, now that was kind of you,” replied Mr. -Addicks gravely. “But just why did you think I -ought to be warned?”</p> - -<p>Fudge hesitated. After all, it was not a pleasant -task to inform a man that you knew him to -be a criminal. Perry moved uneasily in his chair, -but failed to come to his chum’s assistance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_216"></a>[216]</span></p> - -<p>“Come on,” persisted Mr. Addicks. “We’re all -friends together. What’s the idea, Shaw?”</p> - -<p>Fudge threw a final appealing glance at Perry -and plunged: “It’s none of our business, sir, only -I—er—I happened to see the notice in the express -office and——”</p> - -<p>“What notice?”</p> - -<p>“About the train-robber. And then we—we came -in the other day and couldn’t help seeing the scar -and—and knowing.”</p> - -<p>“What scar, Shaw?”</p> - -<p>“On your arm, sir; the white scar just like the -description says.”</p> - -<p>“The white—— Oh!” Mr. Addicks nodded -comprehendingly.</p> - -<p>“We haven’t breathed a word to anyone, Mr. -Addicks, but I guess they got on to you. And we -thought you ought to know.”</p> - -<p>“Of course.” Mr. Addicks’ countenance held -puzzlement and some amusement, and he was silent -a moment. At last: “Let’s have this just right -now,” he said. “You suspect me of being this train-robber -and you think the police are after me. Is -that it?”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>“The description of the robber fits me, does it?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes, sir, all except the height. I guess<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_217"></a>[217]</span> -you’re more than five feet and ten inches, aren’t -you?”</p> - -<p>“Five feet, eleven. But that’s near enough. -What was the fellow’s name, by the way?”</p> - -<p>“He had two or three names. Edward Hurley -was one of them, and another was Crowell, and—I -don’t remember the other.”</p> - -<p>“Fenney,” supplied Perry subduedly.</p> - -<p>“Ha!” Mr. Addicks arose from the table on -which he had been seated, thrust his hands into his -pockets and walked to the window. The boys exchanged -expressive glances. After a moment’s -silent contemplation of the twilit world outside -Mr. Addicks turned back.</p> - -<p>“How do you suppose they found out?” he asked, -in a low voice.</p> - -<p>Fudge shook his head. “Maybe you left off your -disguise some time, sir.”</p> - -<p>“My—my what?”</p> - -<p>“Disguise; the mustache, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, the mustache. That’s it, I guess.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, you didn’t have it on when you came -in just now, you know.”</p> - -<p>“Careless!” sighed Mr. Addicks. “No wonder -they spotted me. Well, what must be must be, -boys!” He sank into a chair with a gesture of -surrender. “I guess it’s all up, hombres.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_218"></a>[218]</span></p> - -<p>“Couldn’t you—couldn’t you make your getaway?” -asked Fudge, lowering his voice and glancing -apprehensively toward the door. Mr. Addicks -laid finger to lips, tiptoed across and suddenly threw -the door open. Thrilled, Fudge and Perry leaned -forward to look. The corridor, however, was -empty.</p> - -<p>Leaving the door slightly ajar, Mr. Addicks returned -to his seat.</p> - -<p>“You mean,” he asked, “that I might get away -before they came back for me?”</p> - -<p>Fudge nodded.</p> - -<p>“I wonder! You’re certain you haven’t told anyone, -Shaw? Or you, Hull?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, we haven’t,” replied Fudge emphatically, -even indignantly. “We haven’t said a word -to anyone. We—we thought at first you were a -safe-breaker,” he added apologetically.</p> - -<p>“What made you think that?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know exactly. Of course, we knew you -weren’t just an ordinary thief, sir; we could see -that; and so I—we thought maybe that was your -line.”</p> - -<p>“You wronged me there,” said Mr. Addicks, in -hurt tones. “I’ve never cracked a safe in my life -Shaw.”</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, sir. Only—how did you get the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_219"></a>[219]</span> -money from the express car at Cartwright? Didn’t -you have to break the safe open?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, that? Why, you see—but, look here, what -made you first suspect me?”</p> - -<p>“I guess it was the disguise. Besides, we knew -you were playing the piano at the theater just for -a—for a bluff.”</p> - -<p>“So you knew that, eh?” muttered Mr. Addicks. -He viewed Fudge with admiration. “It’s a good -thing you’re not on the police force, Shaw, or I’d -have been nabbed long ago. You’re a regular -Burns!”</p> - -<p>Fudge strove to disguise his delight in the praise, -and Perry broke into the conversation anxiously. -“Don’t you think you’d ought to be going, sir?” -he asked. “They may come back any moment.”</p> - -<p>“You’re right.” Mr. Addicks referred to a tin -alarm clock on the table. “Ten after six,” he muttered. -“It’s a desperate chance, but I’ll take it.” -He disappeared into the closet and returned with -a much-worn valise which he placed, open, on a -chair. “Now then, let’s see.” He glanced frowningly -about the room. “I can’t take much with me. -I guess I’d better foot it to the next town and jump -the train there. Maybe they won’t be looking for -me. Boys, I don’t want to drive you away, but -if they should come and find you here they might<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_220"></a>[220]</span> -suspect you of tipping me off. I wouldn’t want -you to get into trouble on my account, and it might -go hard with you if they found it out. Better get -out while there’s time.”</p> - -<p>Fudge looked uneasy. “Well, maybe we had,” -he murmured. “They might put us through the -third degree and make us tell.”</p> - -<p>“That’s just what they’d do,” said Mr. Addicks -convincedly. “I’m mighty grateful to you fellows, -and if the thanks of a train-robber are of any value -to you——”</p> - -<p><a href="#i_fp220">“<em>Whats that?</em>” asked Perry, startled.</a> With a -swift leap Mr. Addicks reached the gaslight and -turned it out. In the darkness they listened with -straining ears. No sound reached them, however, -beyond the usual noises from the street. “I -thought,” muttered Perry apologetically, “I heard -something.”</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp220"> - <img src="images/i_fp220.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_220">“‘What’s that?’ asked Perry, startled”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<p>“I g-g-guess,” said Fudge, as Mr. Addicks lighted -the gas again, “I g-g-guess we’d better go.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” whispered Mr. Addicks, “don’t run any -risks. Good-by, boys. Take care of yourselves -and, whatever you do, remain honest.” He shook -hands with Fudge and then with Perry. “Remember -that honesty is the best policy and take it from -me that there’s nothing in train robbery. A fellow -hasn’t got a fair chance nowadays.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_221"></a>[221]</span></p> - -<p>“Couldn’t you—if they don’t get you this time, -sir, couldn’t you—” Perry faltered embarrassedly—“couldn’t -you reform, sir?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try, Hull, I swear to you I’ll try.” Mr. -Addicks seemed quite affected and, after the door -had closed behind them, they thought they heard -a sob. They stole noiselessly down the stairs. On -the sidewalk Fudge drew a deep breath of relief -as he glanced left and right and saw no policeman.</p> - -<p>“Gee, I hope he gets away,” he whispered -huskily.</p> - -<p>Perry nodded. “So do I. He—he’s a mighty -nice fellow. What do you say if we stay around -until he goes, Fudge? I’d like to be sure he gets -away, wouldn’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but it wouldn’t be safe. They might—might -connect us with his escape. Why, even now -they may be watching the building! Come on, but -don’t walk too fast. Try to look careless, Perry.”</p> - -<p>So, looking careless, they reached the corner, but -there, to Perry’s surprise, Fudge seized him by -the arm and dragged him on. “We’ve got to throw -them off the track,” he muttered. “They may follow -us.”</p> - -<p>Silently they proceeded another block and then, -when Fudge had turned quickly and glanced back<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_222"></a>[222]</span> -along G Street, they slipped around the corner, -cut through a yard and climbed a fence, dodged -past a house and finally gained Troutman -Street.</p> - -<p>“There,” said Fudge, with satisfaction, “I guess -we’ve thrown them off all right.” He stopped a -moment, made a silent investigation and added -darkly: “I hope they tear their pants on that fence -the way I did!”</p> - -<p>“It must be awfully late,” said Perry. “I guess -I’ll go back this way; it’s shorter.”</p> - -<p>“Better not,” warned Fudge. “Come on to F -Street. They might see you.”</p> - -<p>“I hope,” mused Perry as they went on down -the block, “I hope he will try to reform, Fudge. -He doesn’t seem what you’d call a hardened criminal, -does he?”</p> - -<p>“No, he doesn’t. I guess there’s a lot of good in -him, Perry. I dare say he will get away safely -and go back out West and settle down just like -you or me.”</p> - -<p>“I do hope so.” Perry sighed. “I liked him a -lot, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Me, too. I wish he wasn’t a criminal, that’s -what I wish. And, oh, shucks, now he can’t do -that drawing! I’ll have to tell Dick that he left -town unexpectedly. Say, let’s do something to-night,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_223"></a>[223]</span> -Perry. Think your folks’ll let you go to -the movies?”</p> - -<p>“I’ll ask them. I ought to study, but—but I -guess I’m too excited.” Perry laughed softly. -“Say, a fellow doesn’t save a train-robber from -the police every day, does he?”</p> - -<p>“I guess not! I guess if the fellows knew what -we’d been up to to-day they’d open their eyes!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose, though, we oughtn’t to tell them.”</p> - -<p>“Hm, well, not for a long while,” answered -Fudge.</p> - -<p>As Fudge had remained away from the theater -for some time, his mother, after extracting a promise -to get up early and study his lessons before -breakfast, at last consented to let him go, and -Fudge was leaning over Perry’s fence promptly -at twenty minutes to eight and whistling his doleful -signal. Perry joined him without his cap and spoke -subduedly.</p> - -<p>“Will you wait a few minutes, Fudge?” he asked -apologetically. “Dad and mother are going with -us. Do you mind very much?”</p> - -<p>Fudge kicked the base-board of the fence, a reckless -thing to do considering the condition of it, and -finally replied with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm: -“Of course not—much. What they going for, -Perry? I didn’t know they <em>ever</em> went.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_224"></a>[224]</span></p> - -<p>“They don’t. Only dad took it into his head that -he’d like to see what the movies are like, and ma -said she’d go, too. I’m sorry.”</p> - -<p>“Well—” Fudge stopped and then asked -hopefully: “Do you think they’ll pay for me, -Perry?”</p> - -<p>“I guess so,” was the doubtful answer. Further -conversation across the fence was prevented by a -summons for Perry, and a minute or two later the -quartette was on its way to the theater. To Fudge’s -satisfaction, Doctor Hull, directed by Perry, attended -to the trifling matter of tickets and they -filed in. The slight delay had allowed the front -half of the house to fill and they were obliged to -seat themselves fifteen rows back, a location not -at all to Fudge’s liking. Fudge derived great enjoyment, -in the interims between films, from observing -the orchestra, and from back here all he -could see well was just the man at the piano, and -the man at the piano was the least interesting——</p> - -<p>“Why, Fudge Shaw, what <em>is</em> the matter?” exclaimed -Mrs. Hull.</p> - -<p>“N-n-nothing, ma’am,” replied Fudge chokingly.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you well?”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes’m.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t look it. You sure you don’t feel -faint?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_225"></a>[225]</span></p> - -<p>“No’m—yes’m, I mean. I—I just had a twinge.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hull viewed him doubtfully and a trifle -disapprovingly and turned to the Doctor to confide -her belief that Fudge was by no means a satisfactory -companion for Perry. Whereupon Fudge -dug his elbow painfully into Perry’s ribs and whispered -excitedly:</p> - -<p>“Perry, look down there!”</p> - -<p>“Where? What?” demanded the other, squirming -out of the way of Fudge’s energetic elbow. -“What is it?”</p> - -<p>“The man at the piano! Look at him!”</p> - -<p>Perry looked and gasped and looked again. -Surely that back and those shoulders and that head -belonged to——</p> - -<p>At that instant the piano player turned to speak -to the violinist and the boys gazed, astounded, on -the false mustache and smiling countenance of Mr. -Addicks, the train-robber!</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_226"></a>[226]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br /> -<small>MR. ADDICKS EXPLAINS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Fudge and Perry gazed spellbound.</p> - -<p>There was no chance of mistake, even at -that distance. Before them, smiling, unconcerned, -sat Mr. Myron Addicks, one hand resting -negligently on his hip, the other on the keyboard of -the piano. No one would ever have suspected him -of being a fugitive from justice! Presently, quite -as though he had nothing to fear nor an enemy in -the world, he turned and looked calmly over the -audience. Fudge’s gasp was painful in its intensity, -and Mrs. Hull’s thoughts sped to peppermint -tea. Then the lights went down, the orchestra -broke into tuneful melody and the entertainment -began.</p> - -<p>But all through the performance the two boys -shivered whenever a footstep came creaking along -the aisle or there was a sudden stir behind them. -They had visions of the entire Clearfield Police -Force, led by the stout and intrepid Chief, filing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_227"></a>[227]</span> -down the passage-way and clapping the hand of the -Law on the shoulder of the cowboy-pianist. That -the performance came finally to an end without anything -of the sort happening was almost unbelievable. -The boys accompanied the Doctor and Mrs. -Hull home, talking in excited whispers all the way -but reaching no satisfactory conclusions regarding -Mr. Addicks’ strange actions. The Doctor, who -had been innocently surprised and delighted with -his first experience of moving pictures, frequently -interrupted their conversation with questions and -reminiscences and they reached the gate before -they realized it. Perry’s request to be allowed to -walk half-way home with Fudge was firmly denied -and the latter took his departure with a last -whispered: “I’ll be around at seven, Perry. Be -ready!”</p> - -<p>What was to happen at seven in the morning, -what he was to be ready for, Perry didn’t know, -but the mysterious command added further interest -to an already absorbing state of affairs and -Perry presently went to bed to participate in the -wildest and weirdest adventures that ever befell -a sleeping youth!</p> - -<p>He was up at a little after six, dressed by half-past -and waiting on the front porch in a patch -of sunlight. Fudge, in spite of his good intentions,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_228"></a>[228]</span> -was late and it was almost a quarter past -seven when he appeared hurrying down the -street. Perry joined him on the sidewalk and -Fudge, linking arms, conducted him around the -corner.</p> - -<p>“We’re going to see him,” he said determinedly. -“If he hasn’t gone already maybe he can get away -before they look for him.”</p> - -<p>He hadn’t gone. Fudge’s peremptory knock -was followed by the sudden opening of the door -and the vision of a surprised and pajama-clad Mr. -Addicks confronting them. Fudge allowed no -time for questions. He pushed past the puzzled -train-robber, followed by Perry, and motioned the -door shut. There was no evidence of hurried -flight in view. The room looked quite as usual. -The screen had been removed, revealing a tumbled -cot-bed evidently very recently occupied, and on -a one-burner stove, connected with the gas bracket -by a tube, stood a sauce-pan of water which was -already bubbling about the edges. Other indications -of breakfast were there; two eggs and a tiny -coffee canister and a half loaf of bread adorning a -corner of the table. Fudge’s voice was almost stern -as he confronted Mr. Addicks.</p> - -<p>“Why didn’t you beat it?” he demanded in a -hoarse whisper. “Do you <em>want</em> to get pinched?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_229"></a>[229]</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks politely controlled a yawn and -viewed Fudge with puzzlement. Then he scratched -his head, picked up a tattered dressing-gown and -slipped into it and, seating himself on the bed, -thrust his hands into the pockets of the robe and -spoke.</p> - -<p>“Look here, boys, what is this?” he asked plaintively. -“I’m an awful poor performer before breakfast.”</p> - -<p>“But—but you said you were going last night!” -said Fudge accusingly. “And we saw you playing -the piano at the theater! Why, they might have -nabbed you any minute!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks shook his head. “I was disguised,” -he replied.</p> - -<p>“That’s no disguise,” said Fudge contemptuously. -“You’re taking awful chances, sir. -Couldn’t you get away now before they start to -look for you?”</p> - -<p>“Before I’ve had my breakfast?” demanded the -man weakly.</p> - -<p>“Well, wouldn’t you rather go without breakfast -than have it in jail?” inquired Fudge impatiently. -“If you start right now you might get -the seven-forty train. I don’t believe they’d be -watching the station so early, sir!”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks’ expression became gravely curious.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_230"></a>[230]</span> -“Now, look here, hombres,” he said, “this -is just play, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Play!” gasped Fudge. “What do you mean, -play?”</p> - -<p>“Why, this police business, of course. I mean, -you don’t really believe that I’m that train-robber -hero of yours, do you?”</p> - -<p>Fudge’s jaw dropped and he stared blankly. -Finally: “Do you m-m-mean that—that you -aren’t?” he asked in a small voice.</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks shrugged. “Naturally I mean that, -Shaw. I thought yesterday that you fellows were -playing a game and I entered into it for the fun -of it. But when you burst in at half-past seven -in the morning and want me to leave town -without any breakfast—well, I quit. You’ll -have to find someone else for the part, old -chap!”</p> - -<p>“And you’re not the train-robber?” gasped -Fudge.</p> - -<p>“My dear fellow, I never robbed a train in my -life. Sorry to disappoint you, but—well, there -it is!”</p> - -<p>“Then—then w-w-what have you done?” Fudge -demanded.</p> - -<p>“Not a thing,” laughed Mr. Addicks. “Shaw, -you’ll have to reconstruct your ideas of me. I’m<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_231"></a>[231]</span> -not the man you want at all. I never robbed a -train or cracked a safe or even snatched a purse. -I’m just an unromantic sort of a dub with no -criminal record at all.”</p> - -<p>“I just knew it,” murmured Perry, relieved.</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks glanced at him and smiled. -“Thanks for your good opinion, Hull,” he said. -“Now, fellows, let’s thresh this out. How did you -get it into your head I was the train-robber, -Shaw?”</p> - -<p>Fudge, still mazed and a bit incoherent, did his -best to explain. He told the story from the start, -acknowledging that for a while he had only half-pretended -to believe in the theory of Mr. Addicks’ -criminality, but owning that the notice in the express -office, coupled with blue eyes and a scar -on the left fore-arm, had ultimately convinced him. -Several times during his recital Mr. Addicks -chuckled amusedly, and when Fudge had reached -a somewhat lame finish he pulled back the sleeves -of his dressing-gown and pajama jacket.</p> - -<p>“What sort of a scar was it?” he asked gravely.</p> - -<p>“It—it was a white scar about two inches long, -sir,” stammered Fudge.</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks held out his arm for inspection. -“Have a look,” he said. Perry and Fudge looked. -Then Fudge turned the arm over. Then he lifted<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_232"></a>[232]</span> -surprised eyes to Mr. Addicks. “It m-m-m-must -have b-b-been the other one!” he said.</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks obligingly bared the right arm. -Neither one showed any sign of a scar! Fudge -was plainly dazed.</p> - -<p>“B-b-but I s-s-s-saw it!” he muttered. Mr. Addicks -laughed.</p> - -<p>“So did I, and it must have been the day you -were here that first time. I upset the tooth-powder -that morning—my toilet accommodations are a -bit sketchy, you see—and got some on my arm. -I found it there that night. I guess that was the -scar you saw, my friend.”</p> - -<p>Fudge gazed helplessly from Perry to Mr. Addicks -and back to Perry. His expression was too -ludicrous for Perry to view with a straight face -and suddenly the latter burst into a laugh. Mr. -Addicks joined him. Finally Fudge followed suit, -although a bit sheepishly. And when the merriment -was subsiding he pointed an accusing finger -toward the table.</p> - -<p>“How about th-th-that?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“That” was a luxuriant brown false mustache -lying on the table.</p> - -<p>“Eh? Oh, the ‘disguise,’” chuckled Mr. Addicks. -“Well, I’ll tell you. That <em>did</em> look bad, -I guess. You see, I was pretty nearly broke when<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_233"></a>[233]</span> -I struck this place and found that my inheritance -was nothing more than a full-grown, man-size -mortgage. So I looked around for something to -do until I could get a start at surveying. I couldn’t -find anything until I happened on an advertisement -in the paper for a pianist at the theater. Well, -playing in a theater orchestra didn’t seem to me -to be just what you’d expect a civil engineer to do. -I thought that perhaps if people knew I did that -they wouldn’t consider me much good as a surveyor. -So I concluded I’d wear that mustache -as a sort of disguise. I had a lot of trouble with -it at first. Got to the stage door one day without -it and had to go back for it. And once it -dropped off on the piano keys, but no one noticed -it, fortunately. This leading a double life is trying, -fellows!”</p> - -<p>At that moment the sauce-pan on the little stove -began to boil over and Mr. Addicks jumped up -and rescued it.</p> - -<p>“We’d better be going along, I guess,” said -Perry. “You haven’t had your breakfast, and -neither have we.”</p> - -<p>“I’d ask you to have some with me, only, as a -matter of fact, my larder is pretty empty this -morning. Tell you what, fellows, drop around -after the theater this afternoon and we’ll go on<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_234"></a>[234]</span> -with the trial. Now that I’ve started, I’d really -like to convince you that I’m a respectable member -of society.”</p> - -<p>“We believe it already,” replied Perry, with a -grin.</p> - -<p>“Sure,” agreed Fudge. But his tone held deep -disappointment, and Mr. Addicks, noting it, -laughed.</p> - -<p>“Shaw, you almost make me wish I really was -a train-robber or something desperate!” he said. -“I suppose you’ll never take any more interest in -me after this.”</p> - -<p>Fudge smiled, a trifle embarrassed.</p> - -<p>“And,” continued Mr. Addicks, “I can’t much -blame you. That reward sounded pretty good, I’ll -warrant!”</p> - -<p>“R-r-reward!” blurted Fudge. “Gee, you don’t -suppose we were looking for that reward when -we came here and warned you s-s-s-so you could -get away!”</p> - -<p>“That’s true, Shaw. I beg your pardon. You -acted like a good pal there, and I thank you. You -too, Hull. You both of you acted white. By the -way, is everything quite cleared up? Any little -things you’d like explained?”</p> - -<p>“N-no, sir, I guess not,” replied Fudge. “Still -about that policeman——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_235"></a>[235]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, Lafferty? Well, Lafferty’s rather a friend -of mine and sometimes drops in for a smoke. -That’s all.” Mr. Addicks chuckled. “Lafferty -would be interested if he knew! But I shan’t tell -him. Will you come around again and see me -later?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, thank you,” replied Perry. “And -Fudge isn’t <em>really</em> sorry you’re not the train-robber, -Mr. Addicks; are you, Fudge?”</p> - -<p>“Of course not!” Fudge grinned. “Anyway, it -was a lot of fun while it lasted!”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right, then,” said their host heartily. -“Glad you don’t hold it against me. I know that -a civil engineer isn’t as interesting as a desperado, -fellows, but you drop in now and then and maybe -we can scare up some excitement, eh? And if you -ever want a nice job of surveying done, why, you -let me know, and it won’t cost you a cent.”</p> - -<p>“S-s-surveying!” exclaimed Fudge. “We forgot -to t-t-t-tell him!”</p> - -<p>“That’s so,” Perry agreed.</p> - -<p>“It’s Mr. B-B-Brent, sir. You’re to g-g-go and -see him this forenoon and maybe he will have some -w-w-w-work for you.”</p> - -<p>“You really mean it?” asked Mr. Addicks. -“Jonathan Brent, over at the mills? What makes -you think so?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_236"></a>[236]</span></p> - -<p>Whereupon Fudge, Perry assisting, explained, -and when he had finished Mr. Addicks insisted on -shaking hands with them both very hard, so hard -that their fingers ached for minutes afterwards.</p> - -<p>“You chaps are a couple of bricks!” he told them -delightedly. “I don’t see why you took the trouble -for me, but I’m certainly obliged. I hope Mr. Brent -will come across with the job. Even if he -shouldn’t, I thank you just the same. What sort -of a man is he, by the way?”</p> - -<p>“He’s a small man,” replied Fudge uncertainly. -“Sort of wrinkled. Looks right through you and -out behind. Kind of scares you at first, I guess. -He’s got a lot of money and made it all himself. -Gives a heap of it away, though, they say. I guess,” -he summed up shrewdly, “that if you don’t let him -scare you, you’ll get on all right.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll try not to,” answered Mr. Addicks gravely. -Perry smiled. The civil engineer didn’t exactly -look as if he would be easily frightened! And -then Fudge recalled Lanny’s message about the design -for the pennant.</p> - -<p>“Dick said they couldn’t pay very much for it,” -he explained apologetically, “but maybe a couple -of dollars——”</p> - -<p>“A couple of fiddlesticks! It won’t cost them -a cent. I’ll be glad to do it. We’ll talk it over<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_237"></a>[237]</span> -this afternoon and I’ll make a sketch and you can -show it to your friend. I’m only sorry I’m not -doing it for you chaps.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you will be, in a way,” replied Fudge -very gravely. “You see, that pennant’s to go to -the fellow making the most points in the Springdale -meet, and it’s as good as mine right now!”</p> - -<p>Two days later there was a new pianist at the -moving picture theater, for Mr. Addicks was busy -with level and pole on a piece of work that would -occupy him at least a fortnight. And while there -had been no promise of further employment, the -surveyor was pretty certain that Mr. Brent meant -to keep him at work for some time to come. In -any case, he had made his start, and the false mustache -reposed nowadays on the wall of his room -surrounded by the penciled features of a villainous-looking -individual whom he called “Edward -Hurley, the Noted Train-Robber.” A card appeared -in the <cite>Reporter</cite> announcing that Myron Addicks, -Civil Engineer, was at the service of the -public, and a neat black-and-gold sign was hung -outside the entrance to the building. Later still -Mr. Addicks rented the adjoining room and used -it for an office and workshop. Gradually it assumed -a most business-like appearance. A long -table held fascinating drawing instruments and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_238"></a>[238]</span> -squares and protractors and strange black rubber -triangles and curves and rolls of tracing cloth and -printing-frames, to say nothing of paints and inks -simply begging investigation! To Fudge that room -was a never-failing source of delight, and, since -he and Perry soon became fast friends with Mr. -Addicks, he had frequent opportunities to test its -pleasures. By summer both he and Perry had -dedicated themselves to the profession of civil engineering -and were doing remarkable things with -compasses and ruling-pens and little black rubber -squares. It was, I think, shortly after the close -of school that Fudge commenced his ambitious -task of mapping the City of Clearfield! But I am -far ahead of my story.</p> - -<p>The design for the Track Trophy was made, -submitted and enthusiastically approved. The pennant -itself was completed a week later and was -placed on exhibition in a window of Cosgrove’s -jewelry store. A placard neatly printed by Mr. -Addicks reposed beside it and explained that it -was to be awarded as a prize to that member of -the Clearfield High School Track Team winning -the greatest number of points at the annual meet -with Springdale High School. It was really a -very handsome trophy and Louise Brent and her -aids had done themselves proud. The pennant<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_239"></a>[239]</span> -was twenty-four inches in length and fourteen -inches in height, of heavy purple silk. A wreath -of green laurel leaves enclosed the letters “C. H. -S.” in white. Purple satin ribbons held the pennant -to a gilt staff, and altogether it formed a -prize well worth striving for. And so most of -the Track Team members thought.</p> - -<p>Besides inciting the members of the team themselves -to greater endeavors, the trophy aroused a -new interest in and enthusiasm for track and field -athletics throughout the school. Fellows who had -never for an instant contemplated going out for -the team were heard regretting the fact that they -had allowed others to dissuade them and promising -that next year they’d show something!</p> - -<p>Meanwhile May hurried along with sunny skies—and -some cloudy ones for variety—and the baseball -players began to meet opponents worthy of -their skill and the Track Team, imbued with a new -enthusiasm, worked their hardest.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_240"></a>[240]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br /> -<small>ON THE TRACK</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">By the middle of the month the Track Team -comprised twenty members, several less -than coach and captain had hoped for. By -a good deal of intricate scheming those twenty -were apportioned over the seven track and five field -events so that in each Clearfield would be represented -by not less than three wearers of the purple. -In many cases a second was the best that Captain -Felker dared hope for, in some cases a third -would be all he expected. A number of the fellows -were being coached in things they had never -dreamed of undertaking. George Tupper, for instance, -who had run fourth last spring in the 440-yards, -had been prevailed on to drop that event -and go in for the mile, since the four-forty was -represented by three more promising performers -and the mile run was left to Toll and Smith. In -the same way, Thad Brimmer, whose specialty was -the weights, was induced to make a third competitor<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_241"></a>[241]</span> -in the high jump. Lanny White, who was -entered for both dashes and the high hurdles, entered -for the low hurdles also. Soper, a fair -sprinter, developed remarkably as a broad-jumper.</p> - -<p>Of course there were disappointments at first -in what Arthur Beaton humorously called “intensive -track athletics.” That is, several fellows selected -for events that were new to them failed absolutely -to show any ability and had to be switched -to something else. Neither Coach Presser nor Captain -Felker hoped to develop extraordinary talent -in this way. What they desired to do was to be -represented in each event by at least three contestants -and so possibly gain here or there a point -or two that would otherwise go to Springdale. -When the final arrangement was completed there -were four entries for the 100-yards dash, the 220-yards -dash, the hammer-throw and the shot-put, -and three for each of the other events on the -program. Lanny White was to attempt more than -any other member of the team, being down for -four events, and several others were down for -three. Naturally, Lanny did not expect to be -placed in each of his races, but there was always -the chance of crowding a Springdale fellow out in -the trials. In the dashes Lanny was fairly certain -of getting a first and a second, if not two<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_242"></a>[242]</span> -firsts, and he hoped to get placed in the high hurdles. -Perry Hull had attempted to show form as -a broad-jumper, but after a week of it had convinced -Skeet that that was not his forte. In the -end he was slated for the sprints only.</p> - -<p>Perry had his second time-trial on the seventeenth -of the month and Skeet announced the -time as 10 3/5 for the hundred and 24 3/5 for the -two-twenty. Neither performance was remarkable, -but Perry had a strong belief in his ability -to better them both; and, in any case, he had performed -as well as any of his teammates except -Lanny and Kirke in the hundred and Lanny in -the two-twenty. Lanny told him he had done finely -and assured him that in another fortnight he would -be able to cut another fifth of a second from his -time. “And if you do,” said Lanny, “you’ll stand -as good a chance for second place as any of -the fellows. I don’t think that Springdale has -a sprinter who can do better than two-fifths -this year. It will be a corking race for second -place!”</p> - -<p>Perry was encouraged and his enthusiasm arose -to new heights. For the next week he clamored -for another time-trial, but Skeet denied him. Instead, -he insisted on Perry working well over his -distance for days after that trial, and neither he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_243"></a>[243]</span> -nor the other sprinters were once allowed to show -their real speed.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, Perry was observing such strict rules -of diet that Mrs. Hull was in despair. Perry’s natural -liking for pie and cake was sternly repressed -and his mother became frequently quite impatient -and said that training was a piece of foolishness -and that Perry would soon be only skin and bones -unless he ate more. There seemed to be some justification -for her fears, for the steady work on -the cinders was certainly carving Perry pretty fine. -He had not been by any means fat before, but now -he was getting down to his muscles, and one morning -when his mother surprised him on his way to -the bath and viewed the slimness of his legs as -revealed by a flapping dressing-robe, she sent up a -wail of alarm and forthwith sought the Doctor, -declaring that “this running just had to be stopped -or Perry would starve to death before their eyes! -He looks right now,” she said, “like one of those -Indian famine victims!” But the Doctor declined -to become concerned. “He’s better off as -he is, Mother,” he replied. “A fifteen-year-old boy -doesn’t need fat.”</p> - -<p>“But he’s not eating anything!”</p> - -<p>“You mean,” the Doctor chuckled, “he’s not eating -pie and cake and a mess of sweet truck. I’ve<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_244"></a>[244]</span> -failed to notice, though, that he has ever refused -a third helping of meat and vegetables lately! Suppose, -instead of pie and chocolate layer-cake, you -make some simple puddings, my dear; tapioca, rice, -corn-starch. I guess he will eat those all right; and -they’ll be a lot better for him.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Hull retired unconvinced, but afterwards -forbore to predict disaster when Perry refused pie. -Experiments with the simple desserts the Doctor -had suggested were fairly successful. Perry referred -to a diet-list that was pinned beside his bureau and -relaxed to the extent of partaking sparingly of -the puddings.</p> - -<p>Fudge, too, was denying himself prescribed -dishes, although with far less philosophy than was -displayed by his friend. Pie with Fudge was a -passion, and cakes containing oozing jelly or soft -icing filled his soul with beatitude. When all else -failed, he fell back on doughnuts. To be cut off -from these things was a woeful experience to -Fudge. Once he had “trained” for the Football -Team, but that training had been a very sketchy -performance; nothing at all like the awful self-denial -he practiced—or, at least, strove to practice—now.</p> - -<p>“I don’t mind not eating starchy things,” he confided -to Perry one day, “but this breaking away<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_245"></a>[245]</span> -from the table when the pie comes on is fierce! I -haven’t had a hunk of pie,” he added drearily, “for -three weeks, and there’s a place right here”—he -laid a sympathetic hand over the third button of -his vest—“that won’t be happy until it gets it!”</p> - -<p>However, to make up for the discomforts of -dieting, he had the satisfaction of accomplishing -Herculean stunts with the twelve-pound hammer. -Partridge already viewed him as a probable point-winner, -for he had nearly equaled Falkland’s best -performance and had out-distanced Thad Brimmer -by four feet. It was well that Partridge, and Guy -Felker, too, dealt out praise and encouragement to -Fudge, for the temptation to backslide in the matter -of pie dogged him incessantly. There was one -tragic night when he lay in bed and fought for all -of an hour against the haunting vision of three -raisin pies sitting side by side in the pantry downstairs. -What eventually vanquished temptation -was the knowledge that if he stole down and cut -into one of those pies his mother would know it. -And after all the fine-sounding speeches he had -made to her on the subject of denying one’s appetite -for the sake of the School, he hadn’t the -heart for it.</p> - -<p>Now that the School had “taken up” athletics it -was a lot more fun practicing. Whereas heretofore<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_246"></a>[246]</span> -scarcely a dozen fellows had watched the -performances of the Track Team, now the daily -practice was almost as popular as baseball and -squads of critical but enthusiastic youths stood -about the track and applauded and urged on their -friends. The hammer-throw was sufficiently spectacular -to attract a large gallery every afternoon, -and I’m not denying that Fudge strutted a little -when, having tossed the weight far away across -the field, he allowed some admiring acquaintance -to help him on with the crimson dressing-robe he -affected.</p> - -<p>Over at Springdale great things were said of the -local Track Team, and the Springdale paper even -now predicted victory. Guy Felker and the others -studied that paper every day and compared what -they learned of the Blue team’s performances with -what they knew of their own, sometimes with satisfaction -and more often with alarm. There was -no disguising the fact that Springdale would send -a team more than ordinarily strong in the quarter, -half and mile events and in the jumps. The Blue -was likely to prove weak in the sprints and hurdles -and at present seemed about on a par with -the Purple in the hammer-throw and shot-put. -Springdale’s best performer with the shot was credited -with thirty-nine feet and two inches, but Skeet<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_247"></a>[247]</span> -declared himself skeptical about that. Arthur -Beaton spent hours at a time drawing up predictions -of the outcome of the dual meet which -proved, to his satisfaction at least, that the Purple -would win by a good fifteen points. But Beaton -was notably an optimist.</p> - -<p>The plan of holding a School meet was abandoned -owing to the small number of members, -but, on the twenty-first of the month the entrants -in each event were allowed to compete against -each other and the results were posted. Skeet did -not, however, publish times or distances, although -they were made known to the contestants. In the -dashes Lanny finished first with ease, Kirke getting -second place in the hundred-yards and third -in the two-twenty. Perry tied with Soper for third -place in the short distance and finished fourth in -the two-twenty. Since, however, a blanket would -have covered all the sprinters but Lanny at the -finish of that race, fourth place was not vastly -different from second. The time was disappointing, -but the track was soft after an all-night rain -and Skeet didn’t seem troubled when he snapped -Lanny ten and two-fifths for the hundred and -twenty-four and three-fifths for the longer sprint. -The high hurdles went to Lanny and Beaton finished -only three yards behind him. Peyton fell at<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_248"></a>[248]</span> -the second hurdle and was a poor third. In the -low hurdles Lanny was swept off his feet by Peyton -and had to work hard to beat out Beaton for -the next honors. The jumps developed poor performances, -but in the pole-vault Guy Felker surprised -himself and everyone else by doing ten feet -and one inch, bettering the school and the dual -record by two and a half inches. That and Partridge’s -shot-put of thirty-seven feet and two -inches were the only notable performances that -afternoon.</p> - -<p>The mile run proved a good deal of a fizzle. -Smith, considered the only dependable entrant for -that event, had cramps and dropped out on the -third lap, and Toll and Tupper fought it out together, -Toll finishing well in the lead in the slow -time of six minutes and twenty seconds. Evidently -the result of the mile was a foregone conclusion -since it was well known that Springdale’s best miler -had a record of five minutes and five seconds. The -half-mile was a good race—Todd, Lasker and Train -finishing in that order, the winner’s time being -two minutes and fourteen and one-fifth seconds. -The quarter-mile saw Todd, Sears and Cranston -running bunched until the final fifty yards, when -Sears forged ahead and finished with his head up -in the fair time of fifty-four and four-fifths seconds.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_249"></a>[249]</span> -In the hammer event, which wasn’t finished -until after six o’clock, Partridge won handily with -a best throw of one hundred and twenty-six feet -and seven inches. Falkland was second with a -hundred and twenty-one feet and three inches and -Fudge was third at a hundred and eighteen feet -and six inches. Thad Brimmer was in poor form -and was several feet behind Fudge.</p> - -<p>The contests brought out many faults not displayed -previously, and to that extent were useful. -Possibly, too, they served to accustom new members -of the team to the conditions of competition. -At any rate, the fellows enjoyed them, and the audience -did too. There was one member of the -audience who, seated in the grandstand, watched -events with a deal of interest. This was Mr. Addicks. -As it was Saturday and work was for the -time slack, he had treated himself to an afternoon -off. No one paid any attention to him; few, indeed, -observed him; certainly neither Perry nor -Fudge. He would have liked to have gone down -on the field and mingled with the throngs along -the track and about the pits, but since he was not -a High School fellow he thought he might be -trespassing. There was no ball game to-day to -divide attention, for the Nine had gone off to play -against, and, incidentally, get drubbed by Templeton<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_250"></a>[250]</span> -College. Mr. Addicks watched the sprints and -hurdle events critically and found no fault with -Lanny White’s work. Lanny, he concluded, was -a born sprinter and hurdler and only needed better -training to become a master of those arts. With -the rest, though, he was far less satisfied. Indeed, -he frowned a good deal over the running of the -other three competitors. He didn’t remain until -the end, but left the field after the quarter-mile -run. He had wanted to see Fudge’s performance -with the hammer, for Fudge had talked rather importantly -of it of late, but he couldn’t see that event -taking place anywhere and didn’t think to look outside -the field. On the way back to town he stopped -in the telegraph office and made use of a telegram -blank to write a brief note. This he dropped -through the letter-slot in Dr. Hull’s front door, and -Perry found it awaiting him when he got home. It -read:</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p><span class="smcap">Alkali Ike</span>: Come and see me this evening if you -can. If not, in the morning. Death to traitors!</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Deadwood Dick.</span></p> -</div> - -<p>Ever since he had learned of the boys’ suspicions -regarding him, Mr. Addicks had humorously insisted -on applying such picturesque aliases to them -and himself. Fudge was “Four-Fingered Pete,”<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_251"></a>[251]</span> -usually, although sometimes he was addressed as -“Willie Rufus, the Boy Detective.” Perry was -variously “Alkali Ike,” “Doctor Watson” or “The -Apache Kid.” Perry smiled as he read the missive, -got Fudge on the telephone and announced -his purpose of calling on Mr. Addicks after supper -and instructed Fudge to join him there, and -then descended hungrily on the contents of the table. -He was very full of the afternoon’s proceedings -and, although he didn’t suspect it, I fancy his -father and mother were relieved when the meal -was over and he grabbed his cap and disappeared.</p> - -<p>He found Mr. Addicks working at a drawing-table -in the new room into which he had moved -a few days before, but his host laid aside pen and -ruler, square and compass, and took him into the -old apartment, now a trifle more comfortable by -reason of the acquisition of a second-hand easy-chair. -Into this he forced Perry and took his own -position as usual on a corner of the table.</p> - -<p>“I saw you run to-day,” he announced, “and I -want to talk to you about it.”</p> - -<p>“Were you there?” asked Perry. “I didn’t see -you. Why didn’t you let me know?”</p> - -<p>“I sat in the stand. I didn’t know whether they’d -want me on the field.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_252"></a>[252]</span></p> - -<p>“Shucks, everyone comes on. I wish I’d known -you were there. What—what did you think of it?”</p> - -<p>“The field?” asked Mr. Addicks innocently.</p> - -<p>“No, I mean the—the sprinting and all.”</p> - -<p>“I thought that fellow White was a mighty -clever runner, Perry. I don’t know that I ever saw -a chap handle himself much better. Of course -he wasn’t half trying to-day. He didn’t have to. -I’d like to see him when he was pushed.”</p> - -<p>“He’s fine, Lanny is,” said Perry admiringly. -“And Kirke is pretty good, too, didn’t you think? -He got second in the hundred, you know.”</p> - -<p>“That his name? Well, he’s not the sprinter -White is. Is that little thin fellow your trainer? -The fellow in the brown-and-white sweater?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that’s Skeet Presser. He used to be a -champion miler; or maybe it was half-miler; I forget.”</p> - -<p>“Is he considered a good coach?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, sir! He trains at the Y. M. C. A., -you know.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks smiled. “Well, that ought to be -conclusive, Perry! But let me ask you something -now. Who taught you how to run?”</p> - -<p>“Why, he did; he and Lanny. Lanny coaches -the sprinters sometimes.”</p> - -<p>“White, you mean? Well, did either of them<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_253"></a>[253]</span> -ever tell you that you ought to use your arms in -running?”</p> - -<p>“My arms? No, sir, I don’t think so. Skeet -told me I wasn’t to let my arms get behind me.”</p> - -<p>“That was clever of him,” said Mr. Addicks -dryly. “Have you ever watched your friend White -run?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, lots of times.”</p> - -<p>“Ever notice what he does with his arms?”</p> - -<p>Perry hesitated. “I don’t think so, particularly.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you should. Look here, Perry, you’re -not really running, my boy. You made a nice -start to-day in the two-twenty and you used a nice -stride when you found it, which wasn’t until you -were pretty nearly to the tape, but you waved your -arms all over the lot and never once used them to -help your running. Now if you’re ever going to -do anything in the sprints, or in the distances, -either, you’ve got to learn how to use your arms. -A sprinter runs with three things, Perry; his legs, -his arms and his head. You use your legs fairly -well, although you’re trying to get too long a stride -for a chap with legs the length yours are; and I -guess you’ll learn to use your head well enough -when you’ve been in a few races; but you aren’t -getting anything out of your arms; in fact, you’re<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_254"></a>[254]</span> -slowing yourself up, the way you’re beating the -air with them.” Mr. Addicks slid off the table. -“Suppose I wave my arms like this when I’m running. -Think that’s any help to me? Not a bit, -old scout. Get your arm action and leg action together. -Rip them forward, like this; left leg, right -arm, right leg, left arm. That way you’re pulling -yourself along. But don’t just hold them out and -paddle your hands, or trail them behind your -hips or hug your chest with them the way one -of you chaps did to-day. See what I mean at -all?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I think so. I never knew about that, -though.”</p> - -<p>“Of course you didn’t if no one told you. Not -one of you fellows except White ran in decent form -to-day; and if someone would tell him not to throw -his head back as far as he does he’d do better yet. -What the dickens does this Skeet fellow think? -That you kids can find out all these things without -being told? Why, great, jumping Geewhillikins, -there are all sorts of things to be learned if you’re -going to be a real sprinter! It isn’t just getting off -the mark quick and running as hard as you know -how to the tape. There’s science in it, old scout, -a heap of science!”</p> - -<p>“I suppose there is,” replied Perry a trifle dejectedly.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_255"></a>[255]</span> -“And I don’t suppose I’ll ever be real -good at it.”</p> - -<p>“Why not? Don’t expect to be a ten-flat hundred-yard -man yet, though. You’re too young and -your legs are too short and your lungs aren’t big -enough. For two or three years the two-twenty -will be your best distance. You can’t hustle into -your stride and move fast enough to compete with -older fellows in the hundred. But, if you’ll -realize that in the two-twenty you can’t push all the -way, you may make a good performer. You have -a pretty fair style, Perry. I like the way you -throw your heels without ‘dragging,’ for one thing. -But what I’ve just said about trying all the way -through the two-twenty is so. It can’t be done; -at least, it can’t be done by the average sprinter. -Get your stride as soon as you can after you’re -off the mark, then let your legs carry you a while; -I mean by that don’t put all your strength into the -going; save something for the last thirty yards -or so. Then let yourself out! Remember that -the hundred-yards is a hustle all the way, but the -two-twenty is just a hundred and twenty yards -longer and the fellow who tries to win in the first -half of the race dies at the finish. Of course, it -all comes by trying and learning. Experience -brings judgment, and judgment is what a sprinter<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_256"></a>[256]</span> -has to have. You’ll soon find out just about how -much power you can spend in getting away and -how much you can use in the first twenty seconds -and how much you’ll need for the final spurt. Only, -until you have learned that, play it safe and don’t -try all the way. If you do you’ll finish tied up in -a hard knot! See what I mean?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir, thanks.”</p> - -<p>“Try it and see if I’m not right.” Mr. Addicks -perched himself on the table again and -swung a foot thoughtfully. “I wish I had the -coaching of you for a couple of weeks,” he said. -“I’d make a two-twenty man out of you or I miss -my guess!”</p> - -<p>“I wish you had,” replied Perry wistfully. “No -one told me all that, Mr. Addicks. Couldn’t you—I -mean, I don’t suppose you’d have time to show -me, would you?”</p> - -<p>“I’m afraid not.” Mr. Addicks shook his head. -“I’d like to, though. I guess the trouble with this -Skeet fellow is that he’s got so much on his hands -he can’t give thorough attention to any one thing. -Still, I should think he’d see that his sprinters are -making a mess of it. White ought to savvy it, anyway.” -He was silent a minute. Then: “Look -here,” he said abruptly, “what time do you get up -in the morning?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_257"></a>[257]</span></p> - -<p>“About seven, usually. Sometimes a little before.”</p> - -<p>“Seven! Great Snakes, that’s halfway to sundown! -That the best you can do?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, I could get up a lot earlier if I wanted -to.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you get up a lot earlier some morning -and we’ll go out to the track and I’ll show you -what I’m talking about. Swallow a cup of coffee, -or whatever it is you drink in the morning; that’s -all you’ll need; we won’t try anything stiff. What -do you say to that?”</p> - -<p>“Why,” replied Perry eagerly, “that would be -dandy! Will you really do it, sir? When?”</p> - -<p>“To-morrow—no, to-morrow’s Sunday. How -about Monday? Be outside your house at six -and——”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks was interrupted by a knock on the -door, and, in response to a lusty “Come in!” Fudge -entered.</p> - -<p>“Ah,” exclaimed Mr. Addicks, “we have with us -to-night Arizona Bill, the Boy Hercules!”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_258"></a>[258]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII<br /> -<small>THE NEW COACH</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">That early morning session at the track -didn’t come off on Monday because it was -raining hard when the alarm clock which -Perry had borrowed for the occasion buzzed frantically -at a quarter to six. It had been agreed that -should it be raining the event was to be postponed. -So it was Tuesday when Mr. Addicks gave his -first lesson. He was already in front of the house -when Perry hurried out. He was enveloped from -neck to ankles in a thread-bare brown ulster beneath -which he wore an old pair of running-trunks -and a faded green shirt.</p> - -<p>“Thought it might do me good to take a little -exercise while I’m out there,” he explained. “I -haven’t had these things on for years, and wasn’t -sure I’d kept them until I rummaged through my -trunk. Couldn’t find my shoes, though.” Perry -saw that he was wearing a pair of rubber-soled -canvas “sneakers” which had probably been white<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_259"></a>[259]</span> -a long time ago. “How are you feeling? Ever -up so early before?”</p> - -<p>“A few times,” Perry laughed. “Usually on -the Fourth.”</p> - -<p>“Had anything to eat or drink?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, the fire wasn’t lighted. I’m not hungry, -though.”</p> - -<p>“Better have something inside you. We’ll stop -at the drug store and get some hot malted-milk.”</p> - -<p>This they did, and then went on to the field. It -was a fine, warm May morning, and after yesterday’s -showers the world looked and smelled -fresh and fragrant. They found the gates at the -field locked, but it was no trick at all to climb over -the fence. Fudge had agreed to meet them there -with his stop-watch, although Mr. Addicks had assured -him that a time-trial was unthought of, but -he was not on hand nor did he appear at all that -morning. Later he explained that the maid had -forgotten to call him.</p> - -<p>Inside, Mr. Addicks threw off his ulster and, -while Perry got into his running togs, stretched -his long legs and surprised his muscles by various -contortions to which they were long unused. Perry -was soon back and Mr. Addicks put him on his -mark and sent him away at little more than a jog. -“Head up,” he instructed. “Shorten your stride.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_260"></a>[260]</span> -That’s better. Don’t be afraid to use the flat of -your foot. Running on your toes is too hard on -your legs. Now swing your arms, Perry. Drive -’em out and pull ’em back, boy! No, no, don’t -make an effort of it. Just easy, just easy. That’s -better.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks trotted alongside to the turn and -then called a halt.</p> - -<p>“That’s enough. Now get your breath and -watch the way I do it. Watch my arms particularly.”</p> - -<p>He crouched for a start, unlike the usual sprinter -holding but one hand to the ground. Then he -launched forward, caught his stride almost at once -and ran lightly back along the track, his long legs -scarcely seeming to make any effort and his arms -reaching forward and back, his body twisting -slightly above the hips from side to side. It was -pretty work, and even Perry, who had never seen -many runners, realized that he was watching one -who was, allowing for lack of recent practice, a -past-master. After that he was sent off again and -again, for short distances, at scarcely more than -a trot until he at last solved the philosophy of the -arm movement. He had begun to despair of ever -getting the hang of it when, suddenly, he awoke -to the realization that, for the first time since he<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_261"></a>[261]</span> -had been running, legs, arms and body were working -together in perfect unison! He had the novel -sensation of being a well-oiled machine of which -every part was timing absolutely! He slowed down -at the corner and returned to his instructor with -shining eyes, triumphant and slightly astonished.</p> - -<p>“I did it!” he exclaimed. “I did it then, Mr. Addicks! -Did you see me?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, you got it at last. Notice the difference?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, indeed!”</p> - -<p>“Of course you do! Before you were fighting -with yourself. Now your muscles all work together. -Sit down a minute and rest. Then I want -to see you start from the mark down there and -come fairly fast to the corner. See how quickly -you can get your stride and your form. Run easily -to about that white mark on the rim up there and -finish hard.”</p> - -<p>Because Perry feared that the others would -think him silly, he had sworn Fudge to secrecy -regarding the early-morning lessons, and Fudge, -who was as communicative a youth as any in Clearfield -but could be as close-mouthed as a sulky clam -on occasions, kept the secret, and no one but Mr. -Addicks, his pupil and Fudge knew until long -after what went on at Brent Field between six and -seven on fair mornings. Perry learned fast, partly<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_262"></a>[262]</span> -because he was naturally an apt pupil and partly -because Mr. Addicks was a patient and capable -instructor. When a point couldn’t be made quite -clear with words Mr. Addicks stepped onto the cinders -and illustrated it, and Perry couldn’t help but -understand. I think Mr. Addicks got as much -pleasure, and possibly as much benefit, from the lessons -as Perry did. He confessed the second morning -that what little running he had done the day -before had lamed him considerably, and declared -his intention of getting back into trim again and -staying there. At the end of a week he was doing -two and three laps of the track and never feeling -it. Fudge, who joined them occasionally, became -ardently admiring of such running as that of Mr. -Addicks’ and regretted that he had not gone in -for the middle distances. “That,” he confided to -Perry one morning, “is what I call the p-p-p-poetry -of motion!” And he managed to make it sound -absolutely original!</p> - -<p>Mr. Addicks insisted that Perry should specialize -on the two-hundred-and-twenty-yards dash, and -coached him carefully over almost every foot of -that distance, from the moment he put his spikes -into the holes and awaited the signal, until he had -crossed the line, arms up and head back. Perry, -who had been complimented on his starting, discovered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_263"></a>[263]</span> -to his surprise that he was very much of -a duffer at it. Mr. Addicks made him arrange his -holes further apart in each direction and showed -him how to crouch with less strain on his muscles. -And he showed him how to get away from -the mark with a quicker straightening of the body, -so that, after a week of practice, he could find his -stride at the end of the first fifteen yards and be -running with body straight and in form. And -then at last one morning there came a time-trial -over the two hundred and twenty yards and, with -Fudge sending him away and Mr. Addicks holding -the watch at the finish, Perry put every ounce -of power into his running and trotted back to be -shown a dial on which the hand had been stopped -at twenty-four and one-fifth!</p> - -<p>“Why—why——” stammered Perry breathlessly, -“that’s a fifth under the time Lanny made last -year!”</p> - -<p>“That doesn’t signify much,” replied Mr. Addicks. -“This time may be a fifth of a second wrong -one way or another. And you must remember -that White probably made his record when he was -tired from the hundred yards. Anyway, it’s fair -time, Perry, and if you can do as well as that in -the meet you’ll probably get second place at least.”</p> - -<p>Fudge, hurrying up to learn the result, stuttered<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_264"></a>[264]</span> -rapturously on being told. “I t-t-t-told him he’d m-m-m-make -a p-p-peach of a s-s-s-sprinter! D-d-d-didn’t——”</p> - -<p>“You did,” laughed Perry. “Couldn’t I try the -hundred now, Mr. Addicks?”</p> - -<p>“Not to-day, son. Too much is enough. We’ll -try that some other time. Don’t work too hard -this afternoon, by the way. It’s easy to get stale -at this stage of the game. And the meet is less -than two weeks off.”</p> - -<p>“Gee,” sighed Fudge, “I w-w-wish you’d sh-sh-show -me something about th-th-th-throwing the -hammer!”</p> - -<p>“I would if I knew anything about it, Fudge. -But I thought you were getting on swimmingly.”</p> - -<p>“Pretty fair, sir. Only Falkland keeps on beating -me by four or five feet every time. I wish -I were taller, that’s what I wish! He’s almost six -inches taller than I am and his arms are -longer.”</p> - -<p>“You might wear stilts,” Perry suggested.</p> - -<p>“Or put French heels on your shoes,” laughed -Mr. Addicks.</p> - -<p>Fudge sighed dolefully and then brightened. -“Anyway,” he said, “I can beat Thad! And he’s -older than I, and bigger, too.”</p> - -<p>“Whatever happens,” said Mr. Addicks as they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_265"></a>[265]</span> -crossed the field, “I’ve got to see that meet, fellows!”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” agreed Fudge. “Mr. Brent will let -you off, won’t he?”</p> - -<p>“It isn’t Mr. Brent who has the say so,” replied -the other with a smile. “It’s my pocketbook, -Fudge.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! But I thought you were making a heap -of money now, sir. You went and took that other -room and—and all.”</p> - -<p>“That’s why I’m still poor, Four-Fingered Pete. -Earning an honest living is hard work. Sometimes -I think I’ll go back to train-robbery.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you ever going to forget that?” wailed -Fudge.</p> - -<p>Baseball was now well into mid-season. Seven -games had been played, of which two had been -lost, one tied and the rest won. A Second Team, -captained by Sprague McCoy, was putting the regulars -on their mettle three afternoons a week and -was playing an occasional contest of its own with -an outside nine. Dick Lovering was fairly well -satisfied with his charges, although it was too early -to predict what was to happen in the final game -with Springdale, nearly a month distant. The -pitching staff was gradually coming around into -shape now that warm weather had arrived. Tom<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_266"></a>[266]</span> -Haley, still first-choice box-artist, had pitched a -no-hit game against Locust Valley and of late had -gone well-nigh unpunished.</p> - -<p>The Templeton game had been somewhat of a -jolt, to use Captain Jones’ inelegant but expressive -phrase, inasmuch as Templeton had been looked -on as an easy adversary, and Joe Browne, in process -of being turned into a third-choice pitcher, -had started in the box against them. Joe had been -literally slaughtered in exactly two-thirds of one -inning and had thereupon gone back to right field, -yielding the ball to Nostrand. But Nostrand, -while faring better, had been by no means invulnerable. -Even if he had held the enemy safe, -however, Clearfield would still have been defeated, -for her hitting that day was so poor that she -was unable to overcome the four runs which Templeton -had piled up in that luckless first inning. -The First Team had to stand a deal of ragging -from the Second Team fellows when they got -back, for the Second had gone down to Lesterville -and won handily from a hard-hitting team -of mill operatives who had claimed the county -championship for several years. To be sure, the -Second Team fellows had returned rather the -worse for wear, Terry Carson having a black -eye, Howard Breen a badly spiked instep and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_267"></a>[267]</span> -McCoy a bruised knee, but still they had conquered!</p> - -<p>The first game with Springdale—they played a -series for two games out of three—was scheduled -for the fourth of June at Clearfield. The second -contest was to be held at Springdale a week later, -which was the date of the dual meet, and the third, -if necessary, was to take place at Clearfield on -the seventeenth. Just now it was on the first of -these contests that the eyes of Dick and Captain -Warner Jones and the players themselves were -fixed. Dick was anxious to get that first game, -whatever happened afterwards. In the second contest -Clearfield was to do without the services of -Lanny as catcher, for Lanny was due on that day -to stow away some thirteen or fourteen points for -the Track Team, and while Pete Robey could be -depended on to catch a good game, Lanny’s absence -from the line-up was bound to be felt. So -Dick was out after that first encounter, realizing -that with that put safely on ice he would be able -to accept a defeat the following Saturday with a -fair degree of philosophy. Perhaps, fortunately -for the nine, two other members who had tried -for the Track Team had failed, and Lanny was -the only one who stood to make history in two -branches of athletics this spring.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_268"></a>[268]</span></p> - -<p>Bert Cable, last year’s captain, labored indefatigably -and was of much assistance to Dick who, -handicapped as he was by his infirmity, was forced -to do most of his coaching from the bench. That -was an extremely busy week for the Clearfield -High School Baseball Team, and Gordon Merrick -confided to Lanny on Thursday that if Dick sent -him to the batting-net the next day he would probably -go mad and bite someone. “Why, last night,” -he said, “I dreamed that Tom and Nostrand and -Joe Browne and two or three others were all pitching -to me at once! My arms are still lame from -that nightmare!”</p> - -<p>“Well, there won’t be anything very strenuous -to-morrow,” Lanny comforted. “In fact, you’ll -get off easier than I shall, for I’ve got to do track -work.”</p> - -<p>“You’re an idiot to try both,” said Gordon. -“What’s going to happen to us next week, I’d like -to know, with Robey catching.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Pete will get along all right. In fact, he’s -a mighty good catcher, Gordon.”</p> - -<p>“He’s all right at catching, but a child could -steal on him. He can’t get the ball down to second -to save his life until the runner’s brushing the -dust from his trousers!”</p> - -<p>“Well, with Tom Haley pitching the runner<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_269"></a>[269]</span> -ought not to get a start off first. Tom’s the one -who can hold ’em.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe, but I’ll bet you anything they steal a -half-dozen times on us.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t let them get to first,” advised Lanny. -“That’s the safest plan.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, safety first,” agreed the other. “How -many races are you down for next week, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“Four, sprints and hurdles. But I may not run -them all. It depends on who qualifies. If Arthur -and Eg Peyton get placed for the low hurdles I’ll -probably drop out. By the way, that young Hull -is quite a find, Gordie. I wouldn’t be surprised to -see him get a second in the two-twenty. He’s developing -into a mighty spry youth. Runs nicely, -too. Lots of form. Funny thing is he never tried -the sprints until this spring.”</p> - -<p>“I guess Skeet is a pretty good trainer, isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“Y-yes. Yes, Skeet’s all right. The only trouble -with Skeet is that he can’t seem to get it into his -head that our chaps are just youngsters. He expects -them to stand a lot of hard work and then -can’t understand why they get tired and loaf. Still, -he’s all right, and I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if -we won this year.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” Gordon laughed, “with you taking part -in most of the stunts, I don’t see how you can<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_270"></a>[270]</span> -help it. How many points are you supposed to annex, -anyway?”</p> - -<p>“Thirteen or fourteen; fourteen if I’m in luck.”</p> - -<p>“How many do we have to have to win? Fifty-something, -isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Fifty-four ties. Anything more than that wins. -Arthur has it doped out that we’re to get firsts -in six events; both sprints, the high hurdles, the -quarter-mile, the pole-vault and the shot-put, and -enough seconds and thirds to give us sixty points.”</p> - -<p>“First place counts five and second place -three——”</p> - -<p>“And third place one. I don’t remember just -how Arthur arrives at his result, but he gets there -somehow. It’s going to be a good meet, anyhow, -and I’m sorry you won’t be here to see it.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe I shall be,” responded Gordon pessimistically, -“if Dick doesn’t stop batting practice. I’ve -only got two arms, and they won’t swing many -more times without dropping off! I’d like to see -you run away from those Springdale chumps, too. -I suppose you’ll win that purple pennant the girls -have put up.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t know about that. I wouldn’t object to -having it. It’s mighty good-looking, and purple -goes well with my complexion.”</p> - -<p>“Complexion!” jibed Gordon. “You haven’t<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_271"></a>[271]</span> -any more complexion than a board fence. By the -way, did you see that they were patching the fence -to-day?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, and I hear they’re going to fix up the -track for us a bit before the meet. Wonder where -they’re getting the money. Last time I heard anything -about it they had about sixty cents in the -treasury.”</p> - -<p>“We’ve had two or three pretty fair-sized crowds -out there so far. I dare say the Corwin game -brought in fifty or sixty dollars.”</p> - -<p>“And they got a third of it. Well, I don’t care -where the money comes from. I’m glad they’re -going to mend the track. I’d hate to have Springdale -see it the way it is.”</p> - -<p>“I think it’s silly to fix it. They ought to leave -it the way it is and pray for rain. Then maybe -some of the Springdale chaps would fall in the puddles -and drown.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve got a mean disposition,” laughed -Lanny.</p> - -<p>“I’ve got a very fine disposition,” returned Gordon -with dignity, “but it’s being ruined by Dick -Lovering and batting practice. Bet you anything I -don’t get a single hit Saturday.”</p> - -<p>“That’s right, don’t; make ’em all doubles! By -the way, they’ll probably work that left-hander of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_272"></a>[272]</span> -theirs against us in the first game. I wish we had -more left-hand batters.”</p> - -<p>“That will give Breen a show, maybe. He and -Cotner and Scott are our only port-siders, I think.”</p> - -<p>“Nostrand bats left-handed. If Springdale -pitches Newton, Dick may use Nostrand instead of -Tom Haley. I hope he doesn’t, though. Nostrand’s -a pretty fair pitcher, but he can’t hold them -on the bases the way Tom can.”</p> - -<p>“No, and he scares me to death every time he -pegs across. I always expect the ball to go over -my head. He needs a lot of practice throwing to -first.”</p> - -<p>“He’s a corking good fielder, though, Gordie. -Don’t forget that. Well, here’s where I leave you. -What are you doing this evening?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing special. I’ve got some chemistry work -to make up, though. Why? Anything doing?”</p> - -<p>“Come on over to Morris’s. He’s fixed some -electric lights over the tennis court and is going to -try and play at night.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t remember being invited.”</p> - -<p>“What of it? It isn’t a party.”</p> - -<p>“All right, but don’t expect me to play. It’s -too much like swinging a bat! Stop by for me.”</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_273"></a>[273]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII<br /> -<small>OUT AT THE PLATE!</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">Clearfield turned out well on Saturday -for the first Springdale game, while the -visitors swelled the proceeds by filling most -of one whole section behind third base. The day -was fair but rather too cool for the players, with -a chilly east wind blowing down the field, a wind -that puffed up the dust from the base-paths, -whisked bits of paper around and interfered to -some extent with the judging of flies in the outfield. -Springdale was in holiday mood, armed with -a multitude of blue banners and accompanied by -a thick sprinkling of blue-gowned young ladies -whose enthusiasm was even more intense than that -of their escorts. Clearfield’s cheerers had to work -hard to equal the slogans that came down from -that third-base stand, and Toby Sears, cheer-leader, -was forced to many appeals before he got the results -he wanted.</p> - -<p>Clearfield’s line-up was the same she had presented<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_274"></a>[274]</span> -in Wednesday’s game against Benton: -Bryan, 2b.; Farrar, cf.; Merrick, 1b.; Scott, 3b.; -Cotner, lf.; Jones, ss.; White, c.; Browne, rf.; -Nostrand, p. Haley was expected to go to the rescue -if needed, and seven substitutes adorned the -bench and hoped to get into the game. Springdale -started with her left-hander, Newton, on the -mound, and Newton, who was a big, lazy-looking -but quite competent youth, disposed of Bryan, Farrar -and Merrick without difficulty. Neither team -hit safely, in fact, until the last of the third, when -Lanny managed to land a short fly just beyond -third-baseman’s reach. But Lanny, although he -reached second on a sacrifice bunt by Browne, -didn’t see the plate, for Newton registered his -third strike-out against Nostrand and caused -Bryan to hit into second-baseman’s hands.</p> - -<p>In the fourth inning Springdale had a batting -streak that lasted until she had men on third and -second with but one out. Then Tom Nostrand -passed the next batsman, who had a reputation -for long hits to the outfield, and, with the bases -filled and the blue flags waving hopefully, he struck -out the next two opponents. The cheer that went -up from the Clearfield stand when the last man -turned away from the plate was undoubtedly plainly -heard on the other side of town!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_275"></a>[275]</span></p> - -<p>Clearfield’s inning produced plenty of thrills. -Farrar went out, shortstop to first, but Gordon -drove a clean safety over second and went to third -when Scott doubled to right. Cotner did his best -to sacrifice to the outfield, but the result was a foul -back of first and a second put-out. The Springdale -catcher made two bluff throws to second, hoping -to coax Gordon to the plate, but the trick didn’t -work. With two balls and one strike against him, -Captain Jones refused the next delivery and had -the satisfaction of hearing it declared a ball. Then -Newton floated a slow one over for a second strike -and, with the Clearfield coachers howling like wildmen -and the Purple’s supporters shouting from the -stands, tried to cut the outer corner of the plate. -Warner spoiled it and the ball glanced into the -seats. On third Gordon danced and ran back and -forth, while Scott, halfway between third and second, -dared a throw. Again Newton wound up and -again he stepped forward, and the ball sailed -straight along the groove. Gordon dashed up the -path from third, bat and ball met and Captain -Jones sped to first. Scott rounded the last corner -and headed for the plate just as the ball bounded -into the hands of the second-baseman. The -latter had plenty of time to peg across to first -ahead of Warner Jones, but something, perhaps the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_276"></a>[276]</span> -sight of the two runners flying home, made him -hesitate for one fatal instant. When the ball did -reach the first baseman’s impatient glove Jones -was crossing the bag.</p> - -<p>Scott slid unchallenged past the plate and tallied -the home team’s second run, and Clearfield exulted -strenuously and waved purple flags. Two runs -looked very large just then, but Dick wanted more -and sent Lanny after them. Jones had instructions -to steal on the second pitch and Lanny to -hit it out if he could. Newton drove Lanny back -from the plate with his first delivery and it went -for a ball. Then, after throwing twice to first to -teach Jones discretion, he sailed a low one over. -Lanny swung at it but missed and Jones beat out -the throw to second by an eyelash. Clearfield -howled its glee. That steal upset Newton and he -allowed a pass. With men on second and first and -Joe Browne up another tally seemed quite within -the bounds of reason, but Newton found himself -again and, working Browne into the hole with two -strikes and one ball, fooled him on an outshoot -that looked very wide of the plate. Clearfield -shrieked disapproval of the decision, but disapproval -didn’t put the runners back on the bases or -return Browne to the plate. Still, two runs were -two runs, and, unless Springdale did a lot better<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_277"></a>[277]</span> -than she had been doing, would prove sufficient to -win the game.</p> - -<p>The fourth and fifth passed uneventfully. -Springdale worked hard and took advantage of -everything, but luck was against her when Cotner -ran back to the shadow of the fence in deep left -and pulled down a long fly that might easily have -been good for two bases. Springdale had a runner -on first at the time and Cotner’s spectacular -catch undoubtedly robbed her of a tally. After -that Scott threw out the next batsman and -Bryan tossed to Jones on the following play. -In her half Clearfield got one man to first on balls, -but watched the succeeding three retire on easy -outs.</p> - -<p>It was in the sixth that Springdale began to -look dangerous. Dick had substituted Breen for -Joe Browne, in the hope that the former would -take more kindly to Newton’s delivery, and it was -Breen who was directly responsible for what happened. -Nostrand disposed of the first batsman -easily enough, but the next man waited him out -and finally, after popping fouls all over the place, -secured a pass. The next man laid down a slow -bunt toward the box and Nostrand fielded to Jones. -The latter, however, failed to complete the double. -The following batter hit safely past Scott and second<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_278"></a>[278]</span> -and first bases were occupied. Springdale’s -catcher was up now and he had so far proved an -easy victim to Nostrand’s slow ball. But this time -the signs failed. With two strikes against him -he managed to connect with a waister and sent it -arching into short right field. Gordon started back, -but it was quite evidently Breen’s ball, and Breen -was trotting in for it. But something happened. -Perhaps the wind caught the sphere and caused -the fielder’s undoing. At all events, the ball went -over Breen’s head by several feet and two runs -crossed the plate!</p> - -<p>In the ensuing dismay and confusion the batsman -slid safely to second. Springdale stood up and -yelled like mad, and, after a minute of dismayed -silence, Toby Sears managed to arouse the purple-decked -seats to response. But the Clearfield cheering -was lacking in conviction just then! Breen, -feeling horribly conspicuous out there in right field, -ground his fist into the palm of his glove and -gritted his teeth. Captain Jones’ voice came back -to him cheerfully:</p> - -<p>“Never mind that, Howard! Let’s go after ’em -hard now!”</p> - -<p>And go after them hard they did, and when -Newton, the subsequent batsman, slammed the ball -into short center Breen was there as soon as Farrar<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_279"></a>[279]</span> -and could have fielded the ball had not Farrar -attended to it. As it was the batsman was satisfied -with one base, although the runner ahead -reached third in safety.</p> - -<p>Tom Haley had begun to warm up back of first -base now. That his services would be required -was soon evident, for Nostrand put himself in a -hole with the next batsman and finally watched him -walk to first and fill the bases. Then Dick nodded, -Nostrand dropped the ball and walked out and -Clearfield cheered lustily as Tom Haley peeled off -his sweater. Going into the box with the bases -full, even when there are two out, isn’t a thing to -rejoice and be merry over, but, as Fudge confided -to Perry just then, Tom Haley had been put together -without nerves. Tom sped some fast and -rather wild ones in the general direction of Lanny -while the Springdale shortstop leaned on his bat -and watched satirically, and the Blue’s supporters -expressed derision. But none of the Clearfield fellows -were worried by Tom’s apparent wildness. -Tom always did that when he went as a relief -pitcher. And then he usually tied the batsman in -knots!</p> - -<p>Tom did that very thing now. He landed the -first ball squarely across the center of the plate. -He put the next one shoulder-high across the inner<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_280"></a>[280]</span> -corner, and he wasted two more in trying to -coax the batter to reach out. Then, finding that -the blue-stockinged one would not oblige him, he -curved his fingers cunningly about the ball and shot -it away and, without waiting, swung on his heel -and walked out of the box and across the diamond, -while Clearfield applauded hysterically and a disgruntled -Springdale shortstop tossed his bat down -and turned toward the field wondering if he had -really hit as much too soon as it had seemed to -him!</p> - -<p>The Purple went out in order in their half and -the seventh inning, which Clearfield, according to -time-honored custom, hailed as the “lucky seventh” -and stood up for, passed into history without adding -further tallies to the score of either team. -Springdale went after the game savagely and succeeded -in connecting with Haley’s offers so frequently -that the Clearfield supporters sat on the -edges of their seats and writhed anxiously. But, -although the Blue’s batsmen hit the ball, they failed -to “put it where they ain’t,” and sharp, clean fielding -did the rest. For her part, the Purple did no -better. One long fly to deep left looked good for -a moment, but the nimble-footed player out there -got under it without any trouble. No one reached -first in either half of the “lucky seventh” and the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_281"></a>[281]</span> -game went into the eighth with the score still 2 -to 2.</p> - -<p>When the first man had been thrown out, Haley -to Merrick, Haley let down a mite and the Springdale -right-fielder smashed out a two-bagger that -sailed high over Bryan’s head and rolled far into -the outfield. After that Haley tightened up again -and struck out the next candidate, and the half -was over a few minutes later when the runner was -caught flat-footed off second by a rattling throw-down -by Lanny which Bryan took on the run.</p> - -<p>Merrick was first up in the last half of the inning -and, obeying instructions, hit desperately at -the first ball pitched, missed it to the glee of the -Springdale “rooters” and staggered back out of the -box. The next delivery was low and wide. The -next one, too, was a ball. Then came a slow drop, -and Gordon, sizing it up nicely, stepped forward -and laid his bat gently against it. It wasn’t an -ideal ball to bunt, but Gordon managed to get his -bat a bit over it and at the same moment start for -first. The ball trickled but a scant six feet to -the left of base, but the catcher overran it slightly -and threw low to first and Gordon was safe.</p> - -<p>Scott tried hard to sacrifice with a bunt, but -Newton kept them almost shoulder-high and before -he knew it Scott was in the hole. With the score<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_282"></a>[282]</span> -two and one Newton could afford to waste one, -and after he had tried the patience of the crowd -by repeated efforts to catch Gordon napping at -first, he sent in a slow ball that Scott refused. -Then, since the batsman had two strikes on him -and would naturally not risk an attempt to bunt, -Newton tried to end the agony by sending a -straight ball waist-high over the outer corner of -the plate. Whereupon Scott did exactly what he’d -been told to do and laid the ball down very neatly -halfway between plate and box and streaked to -first. He almost made it, too, but a quick turn and -throw by Newton beat him by a foot. Gordon, -however, was safely on second, and Clearfield rejoiced -loudly.</p> - -<p>Cotner continued the bunting game, but although -he advanced Gordon to third his bunt went -straight to the waiting third-baseman, who had -been playing well in, and he made the second out. -Warner Jones got a fine round of applause as he -stepped to the bat and there were cries of “Give -us a home-run, Cap!” “Knock the cover off it!” -“Here’s where we score!” At third-base Gordon -ran back and forth along the path and the coach -shouted vociferously, but Newton refused to get -rattled. Instead, to the deep disgust of the Clearfield -adherents, he pitched four wide balls and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_283"></a>[283]</span> -Warner, tossing aside his bat, walked resentfully -to first. Clearfield loudly censured the pitcher, impolitely -intimating that he was afraid, but Newton -only smiled and gave his attention to Lanny. Four -more pitch-outs and Lanny, too, walked, filling the -bases and eliciting derisive and disappointed howls -from the Purple.</p> - -<p>Breen was next at bat and, since in spite of being -a left-hander, he had so far failed to solve the -Springdale pitcher, the audience expected that Dick -would pull him out and substitute a pinch-hitter—probably -McCoy or Lewis. But, after a momentary -stir at the bench and a quick consultation between -Dick and Haley, Breen advanced to the plate, -bat in hand. Knowing ones in the stands shook -their heads and grumbled, and Fudge emphatically -condemned proceedings and became very pessimistic. -Perry, daring to hint that perhaps, after all, -Dick Lovering had some good reason for allowing -Breen to bat, was silenced by exactly four perfectly -good arguments against such a possibility. By -which time Howard Breen had a ball and a strike -on him, the coachers were jumping and shrieking -and the purple flags were waving madly while several -hundred voices roared out a bedlam of sound. -For it was now or never, in the belief of most, -and a safe hit was needed very, very badly!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_284"></a>[284]</span></p> - -<p>Breen faced Fortune calmly. Perhaps that misjudgment -in right-field—it couldn’t be scored as an -error, but that didn’t take any of the sting out of -it for Howard—had put him on his mettle and endowed -him with a desperate determination to make -atonement. And possibly Dick Lovering was counting -on that very thing. At all events Breen came -through! With one strike and two balls against -him, Breen picked out a wide curve and got it on -the middle of his bat. It was a lucky hit, but it did -the business. It started over Newton’s head, went -up and up, curved toward the foul-line and finally -landed just out of reach of first- and second-basemen -a foot inside the white mark!</p> - -<p>And when second-baseman scooped it up Breen -was racing across the bag, Gordon had tallied and -Warner Jones was just sliding into the plate.</p> - -<p>For the succeeding three minutes pandemonium -reigned. Purple banners whipped the air, new -straw hats were subjected to outrageous treatment -and caps sailed gloriously into space. At first-base -Bryan was hugging Breen ecstatically and -midway between the plate and the pitcher’s box a -half-dozen Springdale players were holding a rueful -conference. When comparative quiet had returned, -and after Fudge had saved his face by -carefully explaining that Breen’s hit had been the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_285"></a>[285]</span> -luckiest fluke that he, Fudge, had ever witnessed -in a long and eventful life, the game went on.</p> - -<p>Newton for the first time showed nerves. Haley, -who was only an average batter at the best, was -sent to first after five deliveries. The Clearfield -cheering, momentarily stilled, broke forth with renewed -vehemence. It was Bryan’s turn at bat. -Bryan stood disdainfully inert while two bad ones -passed him, and then Springdale’s relief pitcher, -who had been warming up off and on for the last -four innings, took the helm and Newton, who had -pitched a remarkable game up to the eighth inning, -retired to the bench.</p> - -<p>The new twirler, Crowell, was a right-hander and -was regarded as slightly better than Newton. He -took his time about starting to work, but when he -finally began he finished the performance neatly -enough, causing Bryan to swing at two very poor -offerings and then sneaking a fast one over for the -third strike.</p> - -<p>Springdale ought to have realized then and there -that she was beaten. Everyone else did, and there -ensued the beginning of an exodus from the stands. -But those who were on their way out three minutes -after the ninth inning began either scuttled -back to their seats or sought places along the side -of the field.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_286"></a>[286]</span></p> - -<p>The new pitcher had done the unexpected. Far -out in the field Farrar and Cotner were chasing -back after the rolling ball. Crowell had landed -squarely on Haley’s first pitch and driven it whizzing -past the surprised Captain Jones for three -bases! Tom Haley looked about as astounded as -he ever allowed himself to look as he walked to -the box after backing up Lanny. With none out -and a runner on third, victory looked less certain -for the Purple. Springdale’s “rooters” yelled wildly -and triumphantly and Springdale’s coachers -leaped about like insane acrobats and volleyed all -sorts of advice to the lone runner, most of it intended -for the pitcher’s ears.</p> - -<p>“It’s a cinch, Johnny! You can walk home in a -minute! He’s up in the air like a kite! There’s -nothing to it, old man, there’s nothing to it! -Here’s where we roll ’em up! Watch us score! -Hi! Hi! Look at that for a rotten pitch! His -arm’s broken in two places! Just tap it, Hughie, -just tap it! He’s all gone now, old man! He -hasn’t a thing but his glove! Come on now! Let’s -have it! Right down the alley, Hughie! Pick your -place and let her go!”</p> - -<p>But Hughie struck out, in spite of all the advice -and encouragement supplied him, also the next -man up, and Clearfield began to breathe a bit easier.<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_287"></a>[287]</span> -But the trouble was by no means over, for an inshoot -landed against the ribs of the next batsman -and he ambled to first, solicitously rubbing his side -and grinning at Tom Haley.</p> - -<p>“Sorry,” called Tom.</p> - -<p>“I’ll bet you are!” was the response.</p> - -<p>Springdale’s center-fielder, second man on her -batting list, waited until the runner on first had -taken second unchallenged and then lifted a fly to -Breen. The latter got it without altering his position -and pegged to the plate, but Crowell beat out -the throw by a yard and the score was 4 to 3. On -the throw-in the batsman went to second and with -two out and two on bases the infield spread out -again. There was some delay while Springdale -selected a pinch-hitter, and then, when he had -rubbed his hands in the dirt, rubbed the dirt off on -his trousers, gripped his bat and fixed his feet -firmly to earth, all with the grim, determined air -of an eleventh-hour hero, Lanny stepped to one side -of the plate and Tom Haley tossed him four wide -ones!</p> - -<p>It was the Blue’s turn to howl derisively and the -Blue did it. And the Purple shouted derisively -back. So much, you see, depends on the point of -view! The bases were filled now and a hit would -not only tie the score but add a second tally to<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_288"></a>[288]</span> -Springdale’s column. But neither Lanny nor -Haley appeared worried, not even when the next -batsman appeared in the person of the Blue’s captain -and third-baseman. Still, Tom worked a bit -more deliberately than usual, studied Lanny’s signals -thoughtfully, seemed bent on consuming as -much time as possible. The Blue’s captain swayed -his bat back and forth and strove to restrain his -impatience, but that he was impatient was proved -when Tom’s first delivery, a ball that Lanny picked -almost out of the dirt, fooled him into offering at -it. Clearfield shouted joyfully as the bat swept -harmlessly above the ball and the men on bases -scuttled back. The batsman grew cautious then -and let the next two deliveries pass unheeded, -guessing them correctly. The noise which had been -for some minutes loud and unceasing dwindled to -silence as Tom nodded a reply to Lanny’s signal, -wound up and lurched forward. The Springdale -captain expected a good one and recognized it -when he saw it. Bat and ball met sharply and he -raced down the first base path.</p> - -<p>Cries filled the air, the bases emptied. The ball, -smashed directly at Tom Haley, bounded out of -his glove and rolled back toward the third base -line. Tom, momentarily confused, sprang after it, -scooped it up from almost under the feet of the<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_289"></a>[289]</span> -speeding runner from third and, without a moment’s -indecision, hurled it to Lanny. And <a href="#i_fp286">Lanny, -dropping to his knees on the plate, got it a foot -from the ground</a> just as the spiked shoes of the -runner shot into him. Catcher and runner, blue -stockings and purple, became confusedly mixed up -for a moment, and then Clearfield, seeing the umpire’s -arm swing backward over his shoulder, burst -into triumph and flowed onto the field!</p> - -<div class="figcenter" id="i_fp286"> - <img src="images/i_fp286.jpg" alt="" title="" /> - <div class="caption"> - <p class="noic"><a href="#Page_289">“Lanny, dropping to his knees on the plate, got it a foot from the ground”</a></p> - </div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_290"></a>[290]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV<br /> -<small>CLEARFIELD CONCEDES THE MEET</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">But Clearfield paid dearly for that victory.</p> - -<p>Late Sunday afternoon four dejected -youths sat in the library at Guy Felker’s -house and waited for the report of Skeet Presser, -who had just joined them. Skeet, having stuffed -his cloth cap into his pocket, seated himself and -smiled about him, but the smile was a dispirited -effort.</p> - -<p>“Did you see him?” asked Guy.</p> - -<p>“Yes, I saw him. Just came from there. He’s -in bad shape, Cap. He’s got two cuts just above -his left knee as long as my finger and pretty nearly -to the bone. Ugly wounds they are, the doctor -says. I didn’t see them. He’s all bandaged up. -Anyway, he’s out of it, Guy.”</p> - -<p>There was a moment’s silence. Then:</p> - -<p>“Can’t run at all, you think?”</p> - -<p>“Run! Great Cæsar’s Ghost, how could any -fellow run with a knee like that? He’ll be lucky<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_291"></a>[291]</span> -if he’s able to catch two weeks from now, I -guess.”</p> - -<p>“Catch!” said Guy bitterly. “Confound his -catching! If he hadn’t insisted on doing that he -wouldn’t have been hurt. It’s a nice outlook for the -Track Team, isn’t it? We’ve got about as much -chance to win Saturday as we have of going skating!”</p> - -<p>The coach nodded. “That’s right,” he agreed. -“Lanny was good for thirteen points anyway. -Well, I don’t know. Only thing we can do now is -make the best showing possible and——”</p> - -<p>“We’re not beaten yet,” said Harry Partridge. -“Kirke’s nearly as fast as Lanny in the sprints, -isn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“Nearly, yes,” replied Skeet. “But that’s not -good enough. Springdale’s got fellows nearly as -fast, too. For that matter, that youngster Hull -has been doing some fast work. We may win a -first in one of the sprints; I’m not saying we can’t. -It’s the hurdles that worry me most. Lanny was -down for both and he’d have run them both if -we’d needed him. With Lanny out we’ve got only -Beaton here and Peyton. I’m not throwing off on -you, Beaton, but you’ll have to dig to beat out -Springdale’s best man.”</p> - -<p>“I know,” answered the manager, “but, look<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_292"></a>[292]</span> -here, Skeet, if we can win one first in the sprints -and get, say, six points out of the hurdles——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, don’t be an ass, Arthur,” interrupted Guy -crossly. “You can figure until you get writer’s -cramp, but that doesn’t alter the fact that we’re -dished. As Skeet says, the only thing we can do -is to make Springdale work hard for the meet. -It’s perfectly rotten luck!”</p> - -<p>There was another brief silence. Then Toby -Sears asked: “How did Lanny get hurt, anyway? -I didn’t see it. I was so excited——”</p> - -<p>“Blocked off that runner of theirs at the plate. -Someone hit a fierce liner at Haley and he knocked -it down and it rolled over toward third base line. -When he got it it was too late to peg to first and he -chucked it to Lanny about a half-second before the -runner got there. Lanny dropped to the plate and -the runner slid feet-first into him and his spikes -ripped right across Lanny’s knee. It was a mighty -pretty piece of blocking, but he ought never to have -taken such a chance.” And Partridge shook his -head dismally.</p> - -<p>“It wouldn’t have hurt anything if they’d taken -that old game,” said Guy bitterly. “They had two -more to play.”</p> - -<p>“Seems to me,” said Sears, “it would be a good -plan to keep quiet about Lanny’s trouble. There’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_293"></a>[293]</span> -no use in letting Springdale know he can’t run, is -there?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t see that it matters much whether they -know or don’t know,” said Guy. “They’ll find it -out Saturday.”</p> - -<p>“No, Sears is right,” said Skeet thoughtfully. -“We’ll keep it dark. It may disarrange their plans -if they find at the last moment that he isn’t entered. -Did their ball-players know he was hurt badly?”</p> - -<p>“No,” answered Beaton, “I don’t think so. -Lanny walked to the bench pretty well. A lot of -fellows were with him and I don’t believe Springdale -noticed anything.”</p> - -<p>“Then we’ll say nothing about it,” said Skeet. -“The doctor told me he’d be around in a couple -of days and Lanny says he’ll come out and do all -he can for us in the way of coaching. I’m going -to get him to take the hurdlers in hand.”</p> - -<p>“How does Lanny take it?” asked Harry Partridge.</p> - -<p>“Not very well just yet. Rather broken-up -about it. He told me he would rather have won -the sprints than played ball. I wish he’d thought -of that before. Still, I don’t suppose we can expect -the ball team to give up the only first-class -catcher they’ve got to oblige us.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” observed Toby Sears, “it’s a waste of<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_294"></a>[294]</span> -time, fellows, but let’s go over the list again and -see if we can figure out a win.”</p> - -<p>“Figure all you like,” said the coach as he got -up. “I’ve got to be going, fellows. But when -you’re through figuring just remember that no meet -was ever won with a lead pencil. If you want to -win Saturday just make up your minds that you’re -going to go out there and do about twenty per cent. -better than you ever have done. That’s the only -way you’ll win. See you later.”</p> - -<p>So well was the secret of Lanny’s injury kept -that few knew of it until his appearance at the field -on Tuesday. It had been known that Lanny had -been spiked in blocking the plate, but it was not -supposed that he had been seriously hurt, and the -sight of him swinging a stiff left leg about with the -aid of a crutch came as a big surprise. Even then, -however, Lanny laughingly denied that he was -badly injured. “Just a couple of scratches,” he -said, “but they make my leg sort of stiff while -they’re healing. And I don’t want to take any -chances, you know.”</p> - -<p>That sounded all right, but by Thursday the -truth somehow got out and the school in general, -by this time quite enthusiastic over the dual meet, -discussed it with dismay and disappointment. -With Lanny out of the meet Clearfield had, they<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_295"></a>[295]</span> -decided, absolutely no chance of victory, and fellows -who had intended to remain at home and view -Springdale’s defeat on cinders and turf now decided -to accompany the baseball team on Saturday. -“No good staying around here and seeing Springdale -lick the stuffing out of us. Let’s go over there -and root for the Nine.”</p> - -<p>Fudge was one who predicted overwhelming defeat -for the Purple. He figured it out for Mr. Addicks -and Perry one day and proved conclusively -that the best possible score for Clearfield was thirty-two -points. “And that,” explained Fudge, “means -that we’ll have to get eight points in the hammer-throw.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said Perry, “we’ll make a better showing -than we expect, Fudge. Mander almost equaled -Felker’s record at the pole-vault yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“That’s all right,” replied Fudge firmly. “I’ve -allowed us six points in the pole-vault. We’re going -to get licked good and hard. I’m sorry for -Guy Felker, too. He’s worked pretty hard ever -since last year. Remember how he got fellows out -in the fall and made them work? Everyone -laughed at him then, but if it wasn’t for Lanny -getting hurt Guy would have shown them something. -We’d have won easily if the meet had been -last Saturday instead of next.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_296"></a>[296]</span></p> - -<p>“I’ve seen it happen more than once,” observed -Mr. Addicks, “that a team with a heavy handicap -has gone in and won. Seems like knowing you’ve -<em>got</em> to work helps a heap sometimes. Don’t give -in yet, Fudge.”</p> - -<p>The last work for the Track Team came Thursday. -There had been time-trials for the runners -Monday and some pretty strenuous work for all -hands on Wednesday, but Thursday’s practice was -little more than a warming up. Mr. Addicks, however, -wasn’t in favor of letting down too soon, -and on Friday morning Perry was out on the track -as usual and was put through his paces quite as -vigorously as on any other morning. On Friday -afternoon the track men went for a short run across -country and that ended the season’s work.</p> - -<p>While Clearfield still looked for a defeat on the -morrow, it no longer conceded the meet to Springdale -by any overwhelming majority of points, and -there were others beside Arthur Beaton who even -dared hope for a victory by a narrow margin. -Captain Felker, however, was not one of these. -Guy faced the inevitable grimly, determined to at -least make a good showing. Lanny worked hard -with the coaching and under his tuition the two -hurdlers, Beaton and Peyton, showed improvement -by Thursday. So far no inkling had reached<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_297"></a>[297]</span> -Springdale of Lanny’s trouble and his name had -been included in the list of Clearfield entrants -which was sent to Springdale three days before the -meet. Springdale’s list included thirty-one names -and she had entered at least four fellows in each -event. For the sprints and hurdles the number -was six. Guy shook his head dismally over that -list.</p> - -<p>Saturday morning Perry slept late for the first -time in many days, and after breakfast went over -to Mr. Addicks’ rooms and listened to final instructions. -He was a little bit jumpy to-day. When -Mr. Addicks had delivered the last of his advice -he suggested that Perry accompany him across the -river and watch him work. “The walk will do -you good,” he said. “If you get bored you can -come back whenever you like.”</p> - -<p>Fudge came in before they got started and went -along. Fudge was about as nervous as a block of -wood. He was very full of the impending affair -but quite untroubled. The only thing that seemed -to really matter to Fudge was his chance of beating -Falkland in the hammer-throw. Whether he out-tossed -the Springdale fellows apparently failed to -bother him. The boys remained with Mr. Addicks -until the middle of the morning, and then, -extracting a promise from him that he would attend<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_298"></a>[298]</span> -the meet, they returned across the river and, a -little later, witnessed the departure of the ball team -for Springdale, doing their share of the cheering -as the special trolley-car moved away from the -Square. After all, only a small number of fellows -accompanied the Nine, most of them, for one reason -or another, deciding to stand by the Track -Team. Dinner was early to-day and Perry was -far from hungry. But Fudge, who had accepted -Mrs. Hull’s invitation, did full justice to the -viands, as observed wonderingly and rather enviously -by his host.</p> - -<p>The program was to start at two-thirty and long -before that the two boys were dressed and waiting. -The day was fair and hot, unseasonably hot -for so early in June. By a little after two the -stands were already well sprinkled with spectators. -The Springdale team was late in arriving and it -was almost twenty minutes to three when the entrants -in the hundred-yards-dash were summoned -to the starting line. Perry, who had been restlessly -circulating about the field for a half-hour, followed -the others with his heart thumping uncomfortably. -It suddenly occurred to him that he was -about to take part in his first real race, and that -his effort was to be witnessed by nearly a thousand -persons. He looked across the field and down<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_299"></a>[299]</span> -it to the crowded stands, where purple and blue -pennants made spots of color in the hot sunlight, -and for a moment wished himself far away. Then -the names were being called for the first heat and he -forgot the watchers. To his relief, he was not -summoned. Neither was Lanny. Kirke and Soper -were on the track with three Springdale runners -when the whistle was blown. There was a minute -of silence. Then the starter’s voice sounded crisply.</p> - -<p>“Ready!... Set!...”</p> - -<p>The pistol barked.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_300"></a>[300]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV<br /> -<small>SPRINGDALE LEADS</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">“<em>Go it, Kirke!</em>”</p> - -<p>Perry turned to find Lanny at his elbow, -Lanny enveloped in a brown bath-robe and -minus his crutch. Then the shouts of the crowd -at the finish drew Perry’s gaze down the track -again as the flying figures crossed the line. From -back there it was hard to say who had been placed, -but presently, as the sprinters returned, Lanny hurried -stiffly to meet Kirke.</p> - -<p>“All right, Orson?” called Lanny. Kirke shook -his head, smiling and panting.</p> - -<p>“I’m out,” he answered. “Soper’s placed, -though. I was fourth.”</p> - -<p>“Hard luck,” said Lanny. “You’ll make it in -the two-twenty, though.” He returned to where -Perry was standing. “Funny that Kirke let Soper -beat him,” he said. “He’s been finishing ahead of -Soper right along, hasn’t he?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, but I think Kirke’s better in the two-twenty. -Are you going to run, Lanny?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_301"></a>[301]</span></p> - -<p>Lanny pursed his mouth grimly. “I don’t believe -it will be running, but I’m going to start just -for fun.”</p> - -<p>“But won’t it hurt your leg?” asked Perry anxiously.</p> - -<p>“Doc says so, but he’s an old granny. I won’t -be able to finish, I guess, but I hate not to have a -shot at it.”</p> - -<p>“Griner!” called the Clerk of the Course. -“Stratton! Stratton?”</p> - -<p>“Withdrawn,” someone answered. The Clerk’s -pencil went through the name.</p> - -<p>“White?”</p> - -<p>“Here,” replied Lanny as he took his place.</p> - -<p>“Powers?”</p> - -<p>“All right, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Hill?”</p> - -<p>“That should be Hull, sir,” said Lanny.</p> - -<p>“Hull?”</p> - -<p>“Here, sir,” replied Perry, joining the others.</p> - -<p>“That’s all, then, Mr. Starter. Only four.”</p> - -<p>“Are you all ready, boys?” asked the starter. -“On your marks! Hold on there, Number 7! -Don’t try that or you’ll get set back. On your -marks!... Set!...”</p> - -<p>The pistol banged and the four jumped away. -Perry, on the outer side of the straightaway, was in<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_302"></a>[302]</span> -his stride the first of the three and, halfway down -the track, shot a side-long look at the others. Lanny -was not in sight, but the nearer Springdale youth -was a yard or so behind and the further one running -about even. As the first three were to be -placed, Perry slowed up and took it easy, finishing -a close third. Half way down the track Lanny was -being helped over the strings to the turf. Perry, -turning back, heard a timer say laughingly: “Fast -time, Jim; ten and four-fifths!” Lanny was seated -on the turf ruefully holding his injured knee when -Perry reached him.</p> - -<p>“I’m sorry, Lanny,” he said. “Did you fall?”</p> - -<p>“No, I just found I couldn’t do it, Perry. How’s -the track?”</p> - -<p>“Fine! Say, I wish Kirke had got placed. -They’ve got four to our two in the final.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind, you or Soper will get a first. -Those chaps aren’t fast. Give me a pull up, will -you?”</p> - -<p>Perry got back into his dressing-gown and joined -the throng across the field, at the finish of the 440-yards. -Sears, Todd and Cranston lined up for the -Purple in the quarter-mile and Springdale placed -five runners at the mark, amongst them Davis, the -Blue’s captain. It was Davis who took the lead at -the end of the first hundred yards and, although<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_303"></a>[303]</span> -hard-pressed by Toby Sears and a second Springdale -runner, kept it to the tape. At the turn Davis -was two yards to the good and Sears was leading -the third man by a scant two feet. Todd was in -fifth place and the other Clearfield entrant in seventh. -At the beginning of the stretch Sears gained -half the distance separating him from Davis, and -until well down the track it looked as if he might -get the lead. Davis, however, had plenty of reserve -and forty yards from the finish it was evident -that Sears had shot his bolt. Davis finished -first by three yards and a second Springdale runner -ousted Sears from second place almost at the tape. -Springdale had made a good start with eight points -to Clearfield’s one, and the Blue’s adherents cheered -approvingly.</p> - -<p>The high hurdles followed and again Springdale -triumphed, getting first and third place. Beaton -finished second but was disqualified for upsetting -too many hurdles, and Peyton got the honor. -The time was eighteen seconds flat and bettered the -dual meet record by a fifth of a second.</p> - -<p>In the final of the 100-yards dash Perry and -Soper were opposed to four wearers of the blue. -Perry, digging his holes, tried to recall all the -good advice Mr. Addicks had given him, but -couldn’t remember much of anything. His heart<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_304"></a>[304]</span> -was beating very fast, and he was as nearly frightened -as he had been for a long time. He looked -over at Soper, who had drawn the inside lane, and -saw that even that more experienced runner was -plainly nervous. Then the starter’s voice came and -Perry settled his toes in the holes, crouched and -waited.</p> - -<p>“Set!”</p> - -<p>Some over-anxious Springdale sprinter leaped -away and it had all to be gone through with again. -But at last the pistol sounded and Perry, without -knowing just how he had got there, found himself -well down the track, his legs flying, his arms pumping -up and forward and down and back, his lungs -working like a pair of bellows and the cries and -exhortations of the spectators in his ears. A youth -with blue stripes down the seams of his fluttering -trunks was a good yard in the lead and Perry, with -three others, next. Someone, and Perry silently -hoped it wasn’t Soper, was no longer in sight. -Perry put the last gasp of breath and last ounce of -strength into the final twenty yards in a desperate -effort to overtake that Springdale runner, but it -wasn’t until they were almost at the tape that he -knew he had gone ahead, and then, as he threw -his arms up, a third white-clad figure flashed past!</p> - -<p>A half-minute later Perry learned that Soper had<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_305"></a>[305]</span> -won and that he had finished in second place by a -scant two feet. Soper’s time was ten and a fifth. -Perry had feared that the form which had flashed -to the front at the tape had been that of a Springdale -runner and was so relieved that it didn’t occur -to him until some time later to either regret -that he had not finished in first place or congratulate -himself on capturing second. But Guy Felker, -after hugging Soper, almost wrung Perry’s hand -off.</p> - -<p>“That was bully!” he repeated over and over. -“That was bully! We get eight out of it and didn’t -count on more than four! You’re all right, Hull! -Better rest up now, boy. Remember the two-twenty’s -coming. Hello, Lanny! What do you -say to that? Wasn’t it bully?”</p> - -<p>Perry received Lanny’s praise and, rather embarrassed, -went back for his robe. He wondered if -Mr. Addicks had seen him, and he tried to catch -sight of that gentleman in the audience. But half -the folks were still standing on their feet and shouting -and it was no use. He wished Mr. Addicks -might have been down here on the field to-day. -As he passed the blackboard a boy was writing the -new figures down.</p> - -<p>“Clearfield, 12; Springdale, 15,” was the announcement.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_306"></a>[306]</span></p> - -<p>He tried to figure out how that could be, but was -far too excited. When he had wrapped his robe -around him he went back to the dressing-room for -a rub, crossing the track just ahead of the half-milers -who were coming around the turn. He -stopped and watched them pass. Todd was running -in third place, hugging the rim closely, and -Lasker was on his heels. Train was one of a bunch -of four who trailed a couple of yards back. Springdale -had entered five men to Clearfield’s three. -Perry missed the finish of the half-mile, but Beaton -brought the news into the dressing-room presently. -Only Lasker had been placed, winning second. -Linn of Springdale had finished first by nearly -thirty yards in two minutes, eight and two-fifths -seconds. Todd had been in the lead for the whole -of the third lap but hadn’t been able to keep it. He -and Train had been a half-lap behind at the end.</p> - -<p>“What’s the score now, Arthur?” asked someone.</p> - -<p>Beaton shook his head wryly. “Springdale’s -about twenty-one, I think, to our fifteen. We’ve -got to begin and do something pretty soon. Guy’s -got first in the high-jump cinched, though. They’re -almost through.”</p> - -<p>“How’s the shot-put getting on?” Perry asked.</p> - -<p>“Not finished yet,” replied Beaton. “I guess<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_307"></a>[307]</span> -they’ve got it, though.” He hurried out in response -to imperative requests for low hurdlers, and -Perry followed presently. The 220-yards-hurdle -trials had brought out seven entrants and so two -preliminary dashes were necessary. Fortunately, -perhaps, the two Clearfield candidates, Beaton and -Peyton, were not drawn for the same trial. As a -result Peyton easily won in his event from three -Springdale fellows and Arthur Beaton finished second -without hurrying in the next trial. Then the -hurdles were quickly lifted aside and the milers began -to assemble at the starting point.</p> - -<p>Springdale had been conceded this event two -weeks ago, but in his last time-trial Smith, of Clearfield, -had gone over the course in the commendable -time of five minutes and six and two-fifths seconds -and the Purple was entertaining a secret hope -that Smith might somehow prove too good for the -Blue’s crack runner. Eight fellows started, three -for Clearfield and five for Springdale. The policy -of the latter school was evidently to start as many -fellows in each event as possible on the chance of -displacing a Clearfield entrant. In the present case -it was speedily apparent that at least two of Springdale’s -milers were not expected to finish.</p> - -<p>At the end of the first of the four laps the race -had settled into two divisions—Smith, Toll and<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_308"></a>[308]</span> -Tupper, wearers of the purple C, running well -ahead with an equal number of Springdale fellows, -and the other two of the Blue’s force lagging a -hundred yards behind. Wallace, the Springdale -hope, was allowing one of his teammates to set the -pace and was right on his heels. Two feet behind -him trotted Smith, followed by Tupper, a third -Springdale runner, and Toll. The six were hugging -the rim and watching each other craftily. In -that order they passed around the first turn. Then -Toll began to go ahead and the challenge was accepted -by the third Springdale man. Toll finally -ran even with Wallace in the backstretch and on -the next turn dropped into the lead.</p> - -<p>The half-distance found daylight between Wallace -and Smith, and the former pace-maker fell -back into fourth place. At the turn Toll began -to hit it up. Wallace sped close behind him. Smith -came next, some four yards back. Strung out behind -Smith were a second blue runner, Tupper, -and, dropping back every moment, the last Springdale -runner. In that order they came down the -straightaway, passed the mark and went doggedly -on, to the ringing of the gong announcing the last -lap. The stands were shouting confusedly. The -leaders passed the two lagging Springdale runners -before the turn was begun. As Toll led the way<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_309"></a>[309]</span> -into the backstretch it was evident that he was -about done for and a rod or two further along -Smith fairly leaped into the lead, taking Wallace -by surprise. But the three or four yards which he -gained were quickly cut down. Tupper closed in -on Wallace but could not pass him, and as the next -turn was reached began to fall back.</p> - -<p>Smith, with Wallace close on his heels, entered -the straightaway, running desperately. Behind -him, some ten yards back, came a second Springdale -man, and, twenty yards or so behind him, Tupper -and a third wearer of the blue were fighting it -out. For a moment it seemed that Smith might -win, but fifty yards from the tape Wallace uncorked -a sprint that swept him past Smith and well -into the lead, while the next Springdale runner, -head back, challenged Smith for second place and -slowly closed up the distance between them. Wallace -crossed a good six yards ahead and Smith, running -now on pure nerve, saw the second blue adversary -edge past him a few feet from the line.</p> - -<p>Smith staggered as he crossed and fell limply -into the outstretched arms of Skeet. Tupper finished -fourth, almost as exhausted, and the others -trailed in one by one. The pace had been a fast -one, the winner’s time being caught at five minutes, -five and one-fifth seconds, and Smith, finishing<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_310"></a>[310]</span> -third, had run the distance well under his best -record.</p> - -<p>By that time the result of the high-jump was -being announced, and Clearfield had won first place -and halved third. Felker had cleared the bar at -five feet and six inches, a Springdale jumper had -secured second place with five feet and five and a -half inches and Todd had tied with a Springdale -fellow at five-feet-four. A moment later the figures -showing the score were changed again. With -just half the events decided, Clearfield had 21½ -points and Springdale 32½.</p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_311"></a>[311]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI<br /> -<small>THE PURPLE PENNANT</small></h2> -</div> - - -<p class="cap">It was getting well along toward five o’clock -and the sun was sending slanting rays down -Brent Field. The two-twenty-dash trials had -been run and the final in the low hurdles was just -over. In the former Perry, Kirke and Soper had -all won places and in the latter Beaton and Peyton -had finished first and second and added eight more -points to the Clearfield score. The broad-jump -and shot-put, too, were over and the Blue had won -first and third places in the former and first place -in the latter. Partridge had been a good second -in the weight event and Brimmer a poor third. In -the broad-jump Toby Sears had captured three -points. Only the pole-vault, the two-twenty-dash -and the hammer-throw remained and the score -stood: Clearfield, 36½; Springdale, 44½.</p> - -<p>A moment ago the result of the ball game at -Springdale had come over the wire and had been -announced, and Clearfield was feeling somewhat<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_312"></a>[312]</span> -dejected. Springdale had won, 8 to 2. That and -the dismal outlook here at the field had caused the -purple banners to droop on their staffs. But there -was one purple flag that still flaunted itself bravely -in the lengthening rays of sunlight. It hung from -the railing of the stand on the third base side of the -field, a handsome pennant of royal purple with a -wreath of green laurel leaves on it enclosing the -letters “C. H. S.” Behind it sat Louise Brent and -a bevy of her companions. The girls were in a -quandary. Already several Track Team heroes -were tied in the number of points gained by them -and the task of awarding the pennant promised to -be an extremely difficult one. If Guy Felker won -the pole-vault, which was possible at the present -stage, the matter would be simplified, for he would -then have ten points to his credit, two more than -anyone else. The girls discussed the difficulty and -referred again and again to the score that Louise -was keeping, but without finding a way out of the -quandary.</p> - -<p>“There’s just one thing to do,” said Dick Lovering’s -sister, Grace, finally. “It was understood that -the pennant was to go to the boy doing the most -for the school, wasn’t it?”</p> - -<p>The others assented doubtfully. “I suppose that -was what was meant,” said Louise, “but I thought<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_313"></a>[313]</span> -we could give it to someone who had made more -points than anyone else and that it would be all -quite simple. But with three and maybe four fellows -making eight——”</p> - -<p>“That’s just it,” said Grace. “We can’t ask -them to toss up for it or draw lots, can we? So -the best thing to do is to decide after it’s all over -which of them really did the best.”</p> - -<p>“But how can we decide that?” asked May Burnham. -“How are we to know which did the best?”</p> - -<p>“We can,” replied Grace convincedly. “Guy and -the others will know if we don’t.”</p> - -<p>“Guy will have ten points himself if he wins -the pole-vault,” said Louise. “That would make -it very simple.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe he’s going to,” said another girl. -“He’s just missed that try, and I think that long-legged -Springdale boy did it a minute ago.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, dear, if he doesn’t!” exclaimed Louise -hopelessly. “There, he’s gone and missed it again! -No, he hasn’t! He hasn’t! He went over! Oh, -<em>do</em> you think that makes him win?”</p> - -<p>Evidently it didn’t, for while Guy was being congratulated -by those around the vaulting standard -the bar was again raised and a boy with a megaphone -announced: “The bar is now at ten feet -one and one-half inches!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_314"></a>[314]</span></p> - -<p>But interest was drawn from the prolonged -struggle there to the track. At the beginning of -the straightaway they were gathering the contestants -in the final of the two-hundred-and-twenty-yards-dash, -the last of the track events. Clearfield -and Springdale had each placed three men in the -trials. For Clearfield these were Perry Hull, Kirke -and Soper; for Springdale, Knight, Lawrence and -Gedge. The trials had been done in twenty-four -and three-fifths and twenty-four and four-fifths, -rather slow time, but the final promised to show -faster performances. It was figured that if Captain -Felker could win five points in the pole-vault -and the Purple’s sprinters could capture first and -second places in the two-twenty, Clearfield might -after all squeeze out a victory, for Partridge was -counted on to have a very good chance to get the -best there was in the hammer-throw, which had -been going on for some time in the field across the -way. But it was necessary to get eight points in -the sprint, as it was reckoned, and there were few -who dared hope for such a result. Kirke, it was -generally conceded, might possibly win first place, -but there were two good runners in the Springdale -trio who would certainly make a showing.</p> - -<p>Perry drew the fourth lane, with Lawrence of -Springdale on his left and Orson Kirke on his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_315"></a>[315]</span> -right. Kirke looked grimly determined and Perry -was pretty sure that he meant to win. And, -thought Perry, since he had failed in the hundred -he really deserved to. But Perry was not yet conceding -the race. He had made mistakes in his first -race. He had realized it afterwards. Now he -meant to profit by what he had learned. He wasn’t -so frightened this time, either. He had been -through the fire.</p> - -<p>The crowd about the start drew back to the turf -and a whistle shrilled. Down at the finish a handkerchief -waved response. The six boys stopped -prancing and settled to their places. The starter -stepped back.</p> - -<p>“On your marks!”</p> - -<p>Perry, settling his toes into the cinders, heard the -click of the pistol hammer as it was drawn back. -There was a sudden silence.</p> - -<p>“Set!”</p> - -<p>An instant’s pause and then the pistol spoke -sharply and the race was on. Six lithe, white-clad -forms launched themselves forward, twelve arms -beat the air and twelve legs twinkled. Three of the -six had drawn ahead in the first lunge, Perry and -Kirke amongst them. Twenty yards away the field -was already strung out. Kirke, running terrifically, -was a yard to the good. Perry and Lawrence<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_316"></a>[316]</span> -were next. Soper was a yard or so behind them. -But that order changed again in the next few seconds. -Perry was breasting Kirke then and Lawrence -was almost even with them. Soper was -making bad going and falling back. The shouts of -the crowd in the stands and around the finish made -a crashing bedlam of sound that drowned completely -the quick <em>scrunch-scrunch</em> of the runners’ -shoes and their hoarse breathing.</p> - -<p>Now it was half-distance, and Perry saw the -white figure at his right fall back and felt rather -than saw another form crawling up and up on the -other side near the rim. Lawrence held on, too, -and fifty yards from the finish Perry, Lawrence and -Gedge were neck-and-neck, with Kirke a single -pace behind. Soper and Knight were already -beaten. Then Gedge forged ahead and the wild -shouts of the Springdale contingent took on new -vigor. Cries of “<em>Clearfield! Clearfield!</em>” “<em>Springdale! -Springdale!</em>” filled the air. Dimly, Perry -heard his own name over and over.</p> - -<p>Now the slim white thread was rushing up the -track toward him. He had no sense of moving -himself, although his lungs were aching and his -arms swung back and forth and his legs, suddenly -weighted with lead, still spurned the track. It was -as though he, in spite of the painful efforts he was<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_317"></a>[317]</span> -making, was standing still and the finish line was -racing toward him! For a moment he wondered -about Kirke, but for a moment only. The tape -was but twenty yards away now and it was time -for the last supreme endeavor.</p> - -<p>Gedge was two paces in front when Perry started -his final rush. In ten yards he was level. In five -more he was back with Lawrence. <a href="#i_frontis">Like a white -streak Perry breasted the string</a>, his arms thrown -up, his head back, and after him came Gedge and -Lawrence, Kirke, Knight and Soper.</p> - -<p>Once over the line, Perry staggered, recovered -and then fell, rolling limply across the cinders. A -dozen eager boys rushed to his assistance and he -was lifted and borne to the turf where, a moment -later, he found his breath.</p> - -<p>“Kirke?” he whispered.</p> - -<p>“No,” was the answer. “They got second and -third. You broke the dual record, Hull; twenty-three -and four-fifths!”</p> - -<p>Perry considered that an instant in silence. -Then: “We lose the meet, though, don’t we?”</p> - -<p>His informant nodded. “Suppose so. There’s -still the hammer-throw, but I guess we’re dished. -It isn’t your fault, though. You ran a peach of -a race, Hull!”</p> - -<p>Perry climbed weakly to his feet, with assistance,<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_318"></a>[318]</span> -and found that at last he could take a long -breath again. “I’m sorry about Kirke,” he said -rather vaguely.</p> - -<p>“Are you?” gasped a voice behind him. “So’m -I, but glad you won, Perry!” It was Kirke himself. -Perry shook hands with him and then others -pushed around for the same purpose; Lawrence -and Gedge of Springdale, and Arthur Beaton and -Toby Sears and several others, and, finally, Skeet, -Skeet with puzzled admiration written large on his -thin face.</p> - -<p>“I never knew you had it in you, Hull!” he declared, -wringing Perry’s hand. “Kid, you made -a fine finish! I thought it was all over ten yards -from the tape, and then, bing!—you left him -standing! But don’t stay around here and get stiff. -Beat it to the shower!”</p> - -<p>“Wait! What’s the score, please?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, they’re fifty-two and a half to our forty-six -and a half. Cap got first in the pole-vault, but -Mander wasn’t placed. They’ve got the meet, all -right, but we made ’em fight for it!”</p> - -<p>“Fifty-two?” repeated Perry, puzzled. “But -don’t they have to have more than fifty-four to -win?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, the hammer-throw isn’t finished yet. -They’ll get three in that, anyhow.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_319"></a>[319]</span></p> - -<p>Perry looked around. The field was already -emptying. “I’ll get my dressing-gown, I guess,” -he said.</p> - -<p>“All right, but don’t stand around too long,” said -Skeet. “I’m going over to see them finish the hammer. -Better luck next year, Hull.”</p> - -<p>He nodded and joined the throng straggling -through the gate. Perry hurried back up the field -and found his dressing-gown and then, disregarding -Skeet’s suggestion, he too followed the crowd -to where, on the lot behind the field, it had spread -itself in a half-circle around the group of hammer-throwers. -Perry wedged himself through to where -he could see a little.</p> - -<p>“Hello,” said a voice at his elbow and he looked -up into Lanny’s smiling countenance. “You ran a -great race, Perry. I wasn’t needed to-day after -all, was I?” He found Perry’s hand and clasped -it warmly. “Your time bettered the best I ever -made in my life. Next year you’ll have them -standing on their heads, or I’m a Dutchman!”</p> - -<p>“Thanks,” murmured Perry. “I guess I -wouldn’t have beaten you, Lanny, if you’d been -there. How—how is this coming out? Is there -any chance for us to get the meet?”</p> - -<p>“No, I think not. Partridge did a hundred and -thirty-one and eight inches, I believe, and no one’s<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_320"></a>[320]</span> -come near him. But that big chap of theirs will -get second, I guess. Fudge Shaw is right after -him, though. There’s Springdale’s last try.”</p> - -<p>Perry, standing on tip-toe, saw the hammer go -flying off, but couldn’t see where it landed.</p> - -<p>“The worst he’s done yet,” exclaimed Lanny. -“By Jove, I wonder——”</p> - -<p>There was a sudden stir of excitement about -them. “If Shaw can better his last throw,” a voice -nearby said, “we may have a chance yet. But he’s -got to beat a hundred and twenty-four and something!”</p> - -<p>“Is Fudge still in it?” asked Perry wonderingly. -Lanny nodded.</p> - -<p>“Yes, he’s been doing well, too. So far he’s only -six feet behind the Springdale chap, I understand. -I only got here about five minutes ago. There’s -Guy Felker over there with the pennant the girls -gave him.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, did he win it? I’m glad of that. How -many points did he make, Lanny?”</p> - -<p>“Ten; first in the high-jump and pole-vault. -Here goes Harry again.”</p> - -<p>Partridge walked into the circle, dragging his -hammer, and the measurer, far out across the -field, scuttled for safety, the yellow tape fluttering -behind him. The crowd laughed and then grew<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_321"></a>[321]</span> -silent. Partridge spun and the weight went hurtling -through the air. But the result failed to equal his -best throw.</p> - -<p>“Now comes Fudge,” whispered Lanny. “Gee, -but I wish he might beat that Springdale chap. If -we could get second place out of this we’d have -the meet!”</p> - -<p>“Would we?” asked Perry, startled. “I -thought——”</p> - -<p>“Eight points would give us fifty-four and a -half,” said Lanny, “and that would be enough, -wouldn’t it? Funny Falkland is out of it. I -thought he was almost as good as Harry.”</p> - -<p>Perry, dodging behind the heads and shoulders in -front of him, saw Fudge throwing off his dressing-gown -and step, a rotund but powerful-looking -youth, into the ring. Applause greeted him. -Fudge glanced around and was seen to wink -gravely at someone in the throng. Then he placed -the ball of the hammer at the back of the ring, -closed his fingers about the handle and raised his -shoulders. Silence fell once more and anxious -faces watched as the hammer came off the ground -and began to swing, slowly at first and then faster -and faster above the whitewashed circle. Fudge’s -feet sped around, shifting like a dancer’s, until he -was well toward the front of the ring. Then his<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_322"></a>[322]</span> -sturdy young body set suddenly, his hands opened -and off shot the flying weight, arching through the -air, to come to earth at last far across the sunlit -field.</p> - -<p>The crowd broke and hurried to cluster about -the ring, excited voices speculating eagerly on the -distance. Out where the hammer had plowed -into the sod the measurer was stooping with the -tape. Then:</p> - -<p>“All right here!” he called.</p> - -<p>A breathless moment followed. Heads bent -close above the official as he tautened his end of -the tape over the wooden rim.</p> - -<p>“One hundred,” announced the judge, “and ... -twenty ... five feet and....”</p> - -<p>But what the inches were Perry didn’t hear. A -wild shout of rejoicing arose from the friends of -Clearfield. Fudge had won second place and Clearfield -had captured the meet!</p> - -<p>After that all was confusion and noise. Perry -suddenly found himself shaking hands laughingly -with Mr. Addicks, although what the latter said -he couldn’t hear. Then his attention was attracted -to a commotion nearby as the crowd pushed -and swayed. On the shoulders of excited, triumphant -schoolmates, Fudge, half in and half out of -his crimson robe, was being borne past. He espied<span class="pagenum"><a id="Page_323"></a>[323]</span> -Perry and waved to him, and Perry forced his way -through the throng just as Guy Felker reached up -and placed the purple pennant in Fudge’s hand.</p> - -<p>“W-w-w-what’s this?” stammered Fudge.</p> - -<p>“It’s yours, Fudge!” shouted Guy. “You’ve won -the meet and you get the pennant!”</p> - -<p>“B-b-but I d-d-didn’t w-w-win this, d-d-did I?” -gasped Fudge.</p> - -<p>“You bet!”</p> - -<p>“W-w-well, but wh-wh-why?”</p> - -<p>“Because we needed three points to win the meet, -you old idiot,” laughed Guy, “and you got them -for us!”</p> - -<p>“And,” supplemented a voice that sounded like -Curtis Wayland’s, “for numerous other reasons!”</p> - -<p>And Fudge, borne forward again, waving the -purple pennant high in air, had the grace to blush.</p> - - - - -<hr class="chap" /> -<div class="tnote"> -<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p> - -<p class="smfont">Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to - follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the - illustration may not match the page number in the List of - Illustrations.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Printer’s, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently - corrected.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> - -<p class="smfont">Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PURPLE PENNANT ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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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