FUN ON THE GREEN.
After the great game with the Independence Club the Lockport boys
practiced harder than ever.
Joe took a particular interest in long-distance throwing. He tried his
arm constantly and was soon able to throw fifteen feet further than any
other member of the club.
“But you can’t throw as accurately as I can,” said Will Gibson, one of
the outfielders.
“I’ll match you and see,” said our hero.
The novel contest took place one Saturday afternoon before the boys
started in to play a practice game with a scrub nine.
Joe and Gibson walked down in deep center and took positions side by
side.
Then Dick Burns, who was out for the first time since the accident,
placed a bushel basket directly on the home plate.
Each boy was to throw a ball three times at given signals. The one who
threw the most times into the basket was to be the winner.
Joe and Gibson were both provided with balls.
“Ready?” shouted Billy.
“Yes.”
There was a pause.
“Throw!”
Whiz!
Along came both of the balls, thrown at exactly the same time.
Gibson’s struck the rim of the basket and bounced inside.
Joe’s bounced a dozen feet away.
“One for Gibson!”
“That was hardly a fair trial!”
The balls were sent back to our hero and Gibson, and again they got
ready.
“Throw!” shouted Billy Smith once more.
The spheres flew through the air.
Gibson’s went high up, but Joe’s cut only a graceful curve.
Plump!
Our hero’s struck the basket squarely in the center.
Gibson’s shot over the mark several feet.
“A tie!”
“The ball slipped!” growled Will Gibson.
Now came the decisive throw. Both boys handled the balls carefully, and
looked well to the spots in which they were standing. The crowd held
its breath.
“Throw!” shouted Billy for the third and last time.
Again the two balls came along.
Plump!
Joe’s hit the center of the basket again.
Gibson’s struck the rim, knocking the basket over.
“Joe Johnson has won!”
“My! what clever throwing!”
Will Gibson was put out over his failure to win.
“I’ll tell you what I can do,” he said after the practice game was
over. “I can throw higher than you.”
“Perhaps you can, Will,” replied Joe. “There is no advantage in that,
though--I mean in ball playing.”
“Never mind, I’ll bet I can do it.”
“I’ll bet you can’t!” cried Charley. “Joe can throw over the church
steeple.”
“So can I, and I’ll put the ball over the weather vane in the bargain.”
“You can’t do it!”
“I can!”
One word brought on another, and finally our hero was persuaded to
throw over the church steeple against Gibson.
Fifteen or twenty fellows went along to see the contest.
The church was on the outskirts, and had a steeple of wood and iron. In
the steeple were several windows, and on the top was a gilded weather
vane, reaching six or eight feet into the air.
Instead of throwing at the same time, the boys drew lots as to who
should try first. Gibson won, and chose to throw last.
A standing spot was chosen, and carefully measuring the distance, Joe
let fly the ball.
Up and up it went into the air, for our hero had thrown it with
incredible power.
It continued to go up until the top of the steeple was reached.
And now it was on a level with the weather vane.
Up over that fully a yard it curved, and then it began to fall on the
other side of the church.
The crowd set up a cheer, and Will Gibson’s face fell. He could not
hope to do better than that, if as well.
“Never mind, Will, tie him!” shouted his friends
The ball was brought back and Gibson took it.
He leaned far back and hurled the sphere with all the force at his
command. Up it sailed into the air.
Crash! Jingle! jingle! jingle!
Instead of going over the steeple the ball had struck one of the
topmost windows, shattering the center of the frame and four panes of
colored glass!
The entire crowd was astonished at the unexpected turn affairs had
taken.
Will Gibson turned a sickly green, and his face took on a look of alarm.
“Gosh! I didn’t mean to do that!” he cried. “What will old Mallory say
to that?”
Mallory was the sexton of the church.
“Never mind, it was an accident, and we’ll have to chip in and pay for
the damage done,” said Joe.
He had hardly spoken when Mallory came rushing out of the edifice, his
face full of rage. He was a disagreeable man, and all wondered how it
was that he kept his present position.
“Who smashed those windows?” he roared.
He had been up in the belfry fixing the bell rope. The crash had almost
scared him out of his wits, he thinking the whole steeple was about to
fall.
No one answered him.
“I say, who smashed those windows?” he went on. “Answer me, or I’ll
have the whole crowd arrested.”
“It was an accident, Mr. Mallory--” began Joe.
“Accident! Not much! Did you do it?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“You must find out for yourself.”
“Ha! don’t sass me!”
Joe shrugged his shoulders and attempted to move away. Mallory caught
him by the shoulder.
“Tell me who did this.”
“I will not. Let me go.”
“If you don’t answer I’ll have you locked up.”
Joe simply looked at the enraged man. Then before more could be said,
some small boy in the rear piped in.
“Please, sir, it was Will Gibson who busted the window.”
“Get out of here, Nicky Dill!” shouted half a dozen of the other lads,
and, scared out of his wits, the tell-tale took to his heels.
“Will Gibson, eh?” growled Mallory. “Come here!”
He strode over to Will Gibson and grabbed him by the collar.
“I’ll pay for the window, Mr. Mallory.”
“You’ll go to jail!”
“Why should he if he is willing to pay?” asked Carl. “It was an
accident.”
“I don’t care, he’ll go to jail!” howled Mallory stubbornly.
“I won’t go to jail!” cried Will Gibson.
He was a nice fellow, and the idea of being locked up filled him with
terror.
“You will!”
Scarcely had the sexton spoken when Will gave a dexterous twist and
broke away from the angry man. He started to run, and Mallory made
after him.
Back of the church was an extensive churchyard. Into this shady and
quiet spot sped Gibson, with Mallory at his heels. The boys all joined
in the chase.
“It’s a shame!”
“Let him go! We’ll pay for the window!”
“I won’t!” bellowed Mallory. It made him still more angry to have Will
Gibson slip from his clutches.
Along one of the main paths sped Will. He was a good runner, and
speedily outdistanced the sexton.
Presently Will reached a spot overhung with evergreens. He dove beneath
the trees and turned across a patch of thick grass.
When Mallory reached the evergreens the boy was nowhere in sight.
In vain the sexton looked around for him. Will had completely
disappeared.