DICK MARCHES HIS NINE ON
The automobile party arrived just in time to see the blazing roof
of the little cottage crash inward, sending up a shower of sparks
against the sky of the dying day.
"I hope Amos wasn't inside, hurt and helpless!" gulped the tall
stranger, leaping outside. "But why hasn't the fire department
been out here?"
"The Gridley fire department doesn't respond outside of city limits,
except on request and by permission of the mayor, sir," Prescott
answered.
"I'll drive down and telephone any message for you," offered the
chauffeur, who had left his ear behind and had traveled on foot
up to the cottage.
"Firemen would be of little use now," replied the man in charge
of the party. "We can do nothing until the blazing embers cool,
which won't be for hours yet. Still, We might go as close to
the blaze as possible, and see if there are any signs of a human
body in the embers."
While this was being done darkness came down over the summer day.
There was plenty of light, however, around the destroyed cottage.
For some time the searchers explored as well as the heat of the
glowing embers would permit.
"I am satisfied," said the tall man at last, "that no human being
was consumed in this fire. If so, we would certainly see some
evidences of remains. Still, these ashes, when cool, must be
searched."
"You don't need me any more, do you, sir?" asked Dick.
"Is it near your bedtime yet?" smiled the stranger.
"I haven't had my supper yet," Prescott smiled. "Neither has
Darrin."
"Bless me! What a brute I am to forget a boy's stomach!" cried
the tall one. "Here," taking a banknote from his pocket, "I will
have the chauffeur drive you back to town and then return for
us. Take this money and get the best supper you can for two,
at the best restaurant in Gridley."
"Thank you, sir," replied Dick, shrinking back; "our parents wouldn't
allow us to do that."
"Are your parents any easier on such questions?" smiled the stranger,
turning to Darrin.
"Not a bit, sir, thank you," Dave responded.
"I may at least pay you something for your kindness and trouble
in coming out here with me," urged the stranger, still offering
the cash.
But both boys shook their heads, declining with thanks. Neither
had been reared to accept money for doing a human kindness.
"If you don't need us any more," Dick went on, "we'll just find
the road and jog back."
"If you won't accept anything else," retorted the tall man, "you
will at least allow me to send you back in the auto. And you
will also accept the thanks of John Winthrop, and of Colonel Garwood,
whom I represent."
Both boys protested, with thanks, that they were able to get home
on their own feet. Mr. Winthrop, however, insisted on their going
in the car. Truth to tell, both youngsters had used their feet
so much that day that they did not object to being taken home.
"I hope you will find your man, sir, and alive," Dick called,
as he and Dave were leaving.
"I believe that we shall," replied Mr. Winthrop. "Yet it will
be by beginning the search from this point."
The chauffeur drove them home in good time, for he was under orders
to report back to Mr. Winthrop as speedily as possible.
Neither Dick nor Dave had any trouble in getting a late supper
served at home.
"You've brought home a good tale, as you often do, to pay your
mother for her extra trouble," laughed Mr. Prescott.
"I hope that poor, half-witted fellow didn't destroy himself in
his own fire," murmured Dick, as he fell to at the meal.
By morning the people of Gridley knew that the ruins of the abandoned
water-works cottage had been explored, and that the remains of
Amos Garwood had not been found there.
But an editorial in the "Blade" suggested that the cottage was
not very likely to have taken fire unless the blaze had been started
by Garwood. While the latter was declared not to be dangerous,
the "Blade" hinted that his malady might suddenly have taken a
dangerous turn.
"The good people of this section will feel much easier," concluded
the editor, "when they know that Garwood has been found and returned
to the sanitarium that awaits him. A cash reward of twenty-five
hundred dollars should be incentive enough to set many people
to the task of finding the unfortunate man."
Yet, for Dick & Co., the adventure of the afternoon before dropped
very quickly into the background. Here was Monday; on Wednesday
the boys of the Central Grammar must meet the boys of the North
Grammar on the diamond. Then the first of a series of baseball
games was to be played for the local Grammar School championship.
The South Grammar would also enter a nine.
Intense rivalry prevailed between the schools. The fact that
the respective nines were made up almost wholly of boys who were
soon to be graduated from the Grammar Schools did not in any sense
lessen the rivalry. Each young player was proud of his own school
and anxious to capture the laurels.
"Are you going to win Wednesday's game from the North Grammar,
Dick?" asked Len spencer, when that reporter met Prescott on Main
Street at noon on Monday.
"Of course we are," Dick replied instantly.
"You seem very positive about it," quizzed Len.
"That's the only way to go into athletics," claimed Dick. "A
team must enter with the determination and the knowledge that
it is going to win. Then there's little left to do but to walk
home with the victory."
"But Hi Martin was telling me, this morning, that Central hasn't
a ghost of a show against North," pursued Len.
"Hi Martin will know better, day after tomorrow, won't he, Dave?"
queried Dick, appealing to Darrin, who had just come along.
"He surely will," nodded Dave.
"By the way," asked Len, "have you seen any of the new uniforms
of the North Grammar?"
"No," Dick admitted, his face falling a trifle. "I understand
that Martin's fellows are going to wear pretty dandy uniforms,
though."
"They are," Len nodded. "I've had a look at the uniform."
"Well, North Grammar is attended by a lot of sons of pretty well-to-do
men," Dave put in. "Our boys don't come from as wealthy families,
so we have to be content with less of the showy things in life."
"What are your uniforms going to be like?" inquired Len Spencer.
"We haven't any," Dick replied promptly.
"No uniforms at all?" demanded the "Blade" reporter.
"None at all," Dick continued. "Neither have the South Grammar
boys. In the glories of uniform the North Grammar nine will be
all in a class by itself."
"It's too bad," muttered Len.
"No, it isn't," Prescott retorted. "We fellows from Central are
going to show that uniforms don't necessarily make players. We
don't mind---that is, not very much---the absence of uniforms."
"We'll try to show that we have something uniform about our team
play, and let it go at that," said Dave cheerily. "Come along,
Dick, or we'll be late at school."
Away the pair raced. Lessons went about as usual that afternoon
with Old Dut's class, which was surprising, as nearly every boy
in the room had his mind much on baseball.
Captain Dick Prescott, of the Central Grammar nine, had called
practice for that afternoon, from half past four to six o'clock.
At recess, that afternoon, a pleasant, somewhat rotund-looking
man was seen engaged in conversation with Old Dut in a corner
of the schoolyard. At the close of the afternoon session that
same man stepped into the schoolroom, accepting the principal's
offer of a chair on the platform.
"Attention!" called Old Dut, striking the bell. "I am glad to
be able to state that no pupil has incurred the penalty of remaining
after school to-day. However, I am going to ask the members of
the Central Grammar baseball nine and their substitutes to remain
for a few minutes. I pledge myself not to interfere with the
scheduled practice," continued the principal dryly. "All other
pupils will file out promptly, and not loiter in coatrooms or
corridors."
Within two minutes the place had been cleared of all but Dick's
baseball squad.
"I now wish, young gentlemen," began Old Dut, "to introduce to
you Mr. Edson Brown, who is interested in baseball, and who has
a slight favor that he wishes to ask of you."
"It's very simple," declared Mr. Brown, rising and stepping down
from the platform. "I have been greatly interested in baseball
for a number of years. Among other things I have a considerable
collection of figures concerning school teams, their sizes and
weights, I would like, with your permission, young gentlemen,
to take a few measurements. I won't detain you more than a few
moments."
"Do you want a suggestion, sir?" asked Tom Reade.
"Of course," nodded Mr. Brown, smilingly.
"Then the real crowd that you ought to measure are the fellows of
the North Grammar nine. You'd get a fine lot of chest measurements
there, I can promise you."
"Why?" asked Mr. Brown. "Are the North Grammar boys better developed
physically?"
"I can't say about that," Reade replied seriously, "but they're
the only Grammar School fellows in Gridley that have baseball
uniforms, and I understand that they're the chestiest lot of young
fellows that any one ever saw."
"I'll consider the North Grammar boys later, then," nodded Mr.
Brown, smiling. "Now, will each young man oblige me by removing
his coat and vest and stepping forward for the measurements that
I want to take?"
In a notebook Mr. Brown jotted down the measurements that he made.
There being five substitute players, there were fourteen boys
in all whose measurements he recorded.
"That is all," nodded Mr. Brown finally, snapping his notebook
and tucking it away in a pocket. "I am deeply indebted to all
of you young men.
"And now I beg to add," said Old Dut, "that, as all of you youngsters
are in a hurry, there will be no criticism if you see fit to race
through the corridors."
Out on the field, just before half past four, Captain Dick Prescott
lined up his squad of fourteen, himself included, and quickly
added four more to the number, thus organizing two nines.
"Now, play ball," he called.
"Do it in a hurry," supplemented Tom Reade.
"Speed is all right," Dick retorted. "But we want to play with care,
even more than with speed. The scrub nine will go to bat."
Dick himself ran quickly out to the pitcher's box, twirling his
ball impatiently. A High School boy had been secured for umpire,
and all was in readiness.
Of course the school nine won over the scrub. Never mind the
score, which looked badly for the scrub. Dick was satisfied that
his nine was doing the best that was in it.
Tuesday afternoon there was more practice, though Captain Dick
did not allow it to continue too long.
"Now, don't take a single chance with yourselves," called Prescott,
in dismissing the squad on the field near the schoolhouse. "Don't
any one of you get a sore toe or strain a 'wing' before to-morrow
afternoon. Fellows, I believe that we are going to be able to
put it all over the North Grammar to-morrow afternoon. But we
can't do it unless we are all in the best of shape. Be careful
at table. Don't any one of you overeat between now and the game.
And all get into bed early to-night and have a long sleep."
"I put every young man in this room on honor for to-day," stated
Old Dut, facing his class, the next morning. "No matter what
the disorder or breach of discipline, no boy will be kept in after
school this afternoon, for I know that every one of you, whether
player or 'booster,' wants to be at the inter-school ball game
this afternoon. So remember, young men, that you are all on your
honor to-day. Prove yourselves worthy of it."
Never had discipline been better preserved in the eighth grade
classroom than during that day.
Soon after four o'clock scores of Gridley schoolboys had found
their way to the big vacant field not far from the Central Grammar,
the owner of which permitted its use freely by schoolboy athletes.
The principal of the South Grammar, too, was there, flanked by
rough-and-tumble Ted Teall and the South's baseball delegation.
Captain Ted had to play the Centrals on Saturday, and he wanted
to view their style. Though North Grammar was well represented,
the principal of the school did not appear, being "detained by
pressure of important duties."
"Old Dut will know enough to be here," remarked one of the Central
boys proudly. "Nothing but disaster could keep him from showing
interest in our work."
Cheering was started by a big group of North Grammar boys. A
stage had just been sighted, and this bore the North Grammar's
diamond champions. A few moments later the stage drew up at the
edge of the field, and Hi Martin and his fellows piled out, each
proudly resplendent in showy uniform of red and white, with red
caps and stockings. The North Grammar boys were dandies, and
they appeared to want, everyone to realize the fact. They formed
at the roadside and marched on to the field in step.
"Halt!" commanded Captain Hi Martin. Then he looked around curiously.
"If the Centrals are here yet, why don't they come out of the
crowd and receive us?" inquired Martin rather pompously. His
insinuation that Dick's fellows might be mixed with the crowd was a
slur on the Central boys not possessing uniforms.
"Our fellows are not here yet, but they will be soon, you bet,"
called back a Central boy. "It's only twenty minutes past four."
"Spread out, men, and practice," directed Hi Martin.
"Yah! yah!" jeered a Central boy. "Get all the practice you
can---you'll need it."
"These ragamuffins are pretty full of brag," observed Hi scornfully
to one of his lieutenants.
"They're just the kind of fellows that always do brag," returned
the player addressed. "Their brag will all be gone within a half
an hour. You'll see."
"Yes," agreed Hi thoughtfully. "If we can't trim this crowd to-day,
then they're some wonders at ball. They don't have any idea how
long we've been training in order to give them this trimming."
Some of Hi's players had already spread out over the field, and
were doing some rapid passing. Certainly Hi's fielders promised
well, from the little glimpse of their skill that was now had.
Then one of their best batsmen took up the willow, driving a few
long, swift fielders.
"This will get the Centrals nervous before they start, if they
see any of our work," laughed one of Hi's players.
Truth to tell, the North Grammar boys did show some pretty work.
Ted Teall looked on approvingly.
"Prescott has met his match to-day," remarked Ted to a friend.
"These Norths will bother you, too, won't they, Ted?"
"Us? No; not a bit. We can play all around the Norths. But
Central will have to take third place when the series is done."
"The Centrals haven't got rattled and skulked, have they?" called
Hi Martin at last.
A disdainful yell came back from the assembled Central boys.
"Then some one hurry over and tell 'em that it's time to hustle
on to the field and take their medicine," urged Hi. "We don't
want to have the game called for darkness before we're half through."
"The Centrals will be here on time," called back one of Old Dut's
boys. "Don't you worry any about them. Dick Prescott is holding
the watch over our crowd."
"It's four twenty-seven," announced Hi, consulting his gold watch.
"Four twenty-five and a half," corrected a Central boy.
"Go get your watch fixed," retorted Hi scornfully. "And some
one else run and see if he can find out where the Centrals are
hiding."
"Here they come!" yelled one excited Central boy. "Whoopee!
They will answer for themselves!"
In an instant the Central cheering became tumultuous. Even Ted
Teall rubbed his eyes and gasped.
For the Central Grammar School squad was marching toward the field,
having just left the schoolhouse. At the head of all, chin well
up, marched Old Dut. Back of him, two and two, marched Dick Prescott
and his players. What marvel had been worked? For the Central
boys wore uniforms that made Hi Martin's fellows look like so
many gaudy figures on a cheap poster!