THE LIVE WIRES
The matter of a new athletic field dragged. Two more meetings had been
held by the committee, and several trips of inspection had been made to
near-by fields, but no decision had been reached. In the meanwhile, the
surveyors had shown activity and had run lines through the old field and
even demolished a section of the fence. It was a question whether the
team would be able to use the diamond much longer, although inquiries
failed to elicit any definite information from the men who were doing
the surveying. The football enthusiasts were becoming impatient. The
prospect of having no better place to hold practice the next month than
an empty lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad didn't please
them, and they demanded action.
Unfortunately, Mr. Grayson, the principal, had left Clearfield on his
summer vacation, and several other members of the High School faculty
were also out of town, and the committee showed a disposition to await
their return. The hope was several times expressed that, since Mr. Brent
had done nothing with the field so far, he might postpone cutting it up
until next year. But when the surveyors got to work that hope seemed
idle, and at last a public meeting was called at which the Athletic
Committee was to make a report and recommend the leasing of what was
known as Tilden's Meadow for a term of two years. The meadow was a mile
from Clearfield and on the trolley route to Rutter's Point, and
consisted of about fourteen acres of fairly level turf. Only sufficient
space for a football field and diamond was to be used, and the rest of
the land was to remain as at present. Mr. Tilden was to keep the grass
cut in return for the hay and was to receive one hundred dollars a year.
There was no question of having a running track, for the owner
absolutely refused to allow one to be laid out, and that, at first
glance, seemed a great objection to the project. But, as several of the
committee pointed out, there was no money on hand to build a track even
if Mr. Tilden would allow it. The plan was to make use of the Y. M. C.
A. field, a small enclosure behind the Association's building on
Lafayette Street, for training purposes, and hold the meets with
Springdale at the latter's grounds until Clearfield could secure a track
of its own.
A piece of land sufficiently large for all athletic purposes was to be
had across the river and fairly handy to the G Street Bridge, but it was
next to the railroad tracks and the mills and the sentiment of the
female members of the High School was strongly opposed to it. "It would
be horrid!" they declared indignantly. "The smoke and soot from the
engines and the mill chimneys would spoil our dresses and hats. And,
besides, we'd have to walk a whole block through dust up to our
shoe-tops!"
In the face of such weighty opposition the committee gave way, and the
North Side location was abandoned. Only Tilden's meadow remained then,
and to that, too, there was much opposition. Many thought it too far
from town; others pointed out that, since it was unfenced, there would
be no way of keeping persons from witnessing games without paying, and
still others dwelt on the lack of a track. The Athletic Committee was
not to be envied.
Dick talked it over with Louise Brent one morning. Dick had got into the
habit lately of walking over to the Brents' in the morning before going
out to the Point. Brentwood was hardly on his direct line to the car,
although it is true that by retracing his steps two blocks he could get
the trolley at B Street and consequently went only seven blocks out of
his way. But seven blocks, when you have to do it on crutches, is quite
a distance, and doubtless Morris was much flattered by the interest in
his recovery which led Dick so far afield four or five mornings a week.
Dick began by taking books to Morris, but his library was soon
exhausted, and after that he continued to call just the same. Of course
he always saw Morris, and equally of course Louise appeared at some
period of his visit. I think that eventually Morris began to have doubts
as to being the chief attraction. At all events he very frequently left
Dick for his sister to entertain and it wasn't apparent that Dick
mourned his absence. Louise was good to look at and jolly and
sympathetic, and there was no reason why Dick should not have been quite
satisfied with her company.
On the morning in question, the morning of the Wednesday following the
Springdale game, Morris had, after offering to race Dick on crutches to
the gate and back and having his proposition declined, wandered away
toward the tennis court, leaving Dick and Louise on the front steps,
which, at nine o'clock in the morning, were shaded and cool. Dick had
brought up the subject of the athletic field and both Morris and Louise
had had their say. Morris, who was an ardent football enthusiast and
played a good game on the High School team, had bewailed the fact that,
with practice commencing in another three weeks or so, no place had been
provided for it. Louise had reminded him gently that the doctor held out
slight hope of his being able to play this Fall and Morris had briefly
and succinctly informed them that the doctor was an old granny and
didn't know what he was talking about. When he had gone Louise said:
"You know, Dick, both Morris and I begged papa not to take the field,
but he wouldn't listen to us. He said the school could find another
place to play on without trouble. He seems to think that all we need is
a back yard or a vacant lot! I don't think papa ever saw a game of
baseball or football in his life."
"It is too bad that he has to cut that field up," replied Dick, "but I
don't see any reason why he should consider us any. He's been very good
to let us use it so long. And he's never charged us a penny, you know."
"May Scott told me yesterday that her father had told her that the field
might not be cut up after all. It seems that the mayor or whoever it is
that has the say about such things doesn't want papa to put the street
through there unless he builds it up to some grade or other. I don't
understand about it. And papa doesn't want to do that."
"Yes, I heard something of that sort. I believe the matter is to come up
at a meeting this week. It's the board of aldermen, I think, who are
against it. It seems that the city has established a new grade out there
and the present grade is several feet below it. I suppose it means that
your father would have to do a good deal of filling in if he put the
street through. Otherwise the city wouldn't accept it."
"It sounds awfully complicated to me," said Louise. "I just wish father
would change his mind about it. I almost wish the--the aldermen would
tell him he couldn't do it!"
"Perhaps they will," laughed Dick. "But in that case your father would
probably build to the new grade. So there isn't much hope, I fear. No, I
guess it's up to us to move to new quarters. It's a queer thing that in
a town of this size there isn't a place we can use."
"I know. And that field they're talking about now is so hard to get to!
Of course, there's the trolley, but it's been such fun to walk out to
the games and have the field so near home. Your team plays a game this
afternoon, doesn't it, Dick?"
"A sort of a game. We're going to play a team called the Live Wires at
four o'clock. They're fellows in the mills and I guess they haven't
played together much. It'll be sort of a practice affair for us. Tom
Haley can't play and Curtis Wayland is going to pitch for us. You
haven't been to any of the games, have you?"
"No one has asked me," she laughed. "Morris has been laid up and----"
"Would you care to go Saturday? We play the Hemlock Camp fellows. I
guess they have a pretty good team."
"I'd love to!"
"Then I----" Dick paused and frowned. "The trouble is," he went on
apologetically, "I'll have to be on the bench a good deal of the time.
Perhaps you'd rather not go."
"I shouldn't mind. Just come and see me now and then, Dick."
"Really? Then I'll get Gordon or one of the fellows to call for you
about half-past two."
"Indeed?" asked Louise coldly. "Why Gordon--or one of the fellows,
please?"
"Why--why--because," stammered Dick, "I thought probably you'd rather
not--That is, I get along so slowly, you know----"
"Dick Lovering, you were going to say you thought I wouldn't want to
walk with you! Weren't you?"
"Well, something of the sort. You see----"
"No, I don't see at all," she responded with suspicious sweetness. "I
shall be very glad to go to the game with you, Dick, but I refuse to be
palmed off on 'Gordon or one of the fellows!'"
"Then I'll be here for you at two-thirty, Louise. It isn't very far,
after all; only three blocks, you know."
"I ought to know," she said dryly, "since I can see the top of the
grandstand this minute. I may decide, however, that I want to go by way
of the Common, Dick."
Dick smiled doubtfully. "We-ell, that's all right. I'm game! Now I guess
I'd better be getting along."
"The car just went in," said Louise. "You've got nearly a quarter of an
hour yet. How are you getting along with your pupil?"
"Finely! I tell him two or three times a week that we'll never be able
to do it, and he doubles up his fists and glares at me and wants to
fight--almost. He's an awfully stubborn little chap and he's simply made
up his mind that he's going to get into school this Fall, and I think he
will, too. He will if I can keep him mad!" And Dick, smiling, went
swinging off to catch the car.
That game with the Live Wires wasn't as easy for Clearfield as Dick and
Gordon and most of the others expected it to be. Of course Way wasn't
much of a pitcher, and that had to be reckoned with, but even allowing
for that the Live Wires showed up a lot better than anticipated. From a
financial standpoint the game was a huge success, in spite of the fact
that the admission had been lowered to fifteen cents to entice the mill
workers to attend. Attend they did, and "rooted" so lustily and
incessantly for their team that poor Way was more than once up in the
air. Young Tim Turner played in right field and Jack Tappen went over to
left in place of Way. Tim didn't do so badly, since out of three chances
he got two flies and only muffed the third because the crowd hooted so
loudly.
It was quite a tight game up to the fifth inning, with both pitchers
suffering badly at the hands of the opposing batsmen and both infields
guilty of many stupid errors. But in the fifth Clearfield landed on
Kelly, the Live Wires' pitcher, and batted around before they were
stopped, adding seven runs to the six already accumulated. In the
seventh the opposing team returned the compliment and had Way dancing
out of the path of liners and giving bases on the least provocation. But
the infield steadied down then and only three runs came over for the
Live Wires. The final score was fourteen to eight and Dick, who had
acted as gateman in Tim's absence, turned over nearly seventeen dollars
to himself as treasurer. So, on the whole, the game was a success.
When Dick got home after the game his mother told him that a Mr. Potter,
from the _Reporter_, had called to see him and would be back about
eight. Gordon came over after supper and was still there when the
representative of the newspaper repeated his call. Mr. Potter, a
wide-awake, energetic young man of twenty-five or six years, professed
his pleasure at finding Gordon on hand. "Because," he said as he took a
chair in the Loverings' little parlor, "I want to talk about another
game of ball between your team and the Point. I wrote the story of the
last game, by the way. I don't know whether you saw it?"
"Yes, we read it," said Dick. "It was awfully good, I thought."
"I used to do that sort of stuff in Hartford. Well, say, fellows, how
about another game? Anything doing along that line?"
"Yes, we're to play the Point again later. There hasn't been any date
set yet, though."
"Well, that's good. I mean I'm glad you're going to get together again.
Folks who saw that game enjoyed it. There's nothing like a game of ball
to bring folks out and give them a good time. Now, Stevens--he's my boss
on the _Reporter_, you know--Stevens wants to get up a rousing good game
for the final one, see? You and what's-his-name out at the Point set a
date; make it some Saturday, of course; and let me know and the
_Reporter_ will whoop things up. How would it do if we got the retail
tradesmen or someone to offer a prize? Say a silver cup or a phonograph
or a set of books or something? What the _Reporter_ wants to do is to
stir up some excitement; see? Get a big crowd there, have the Mayor
throw out the ball, get folks pulling for the home team and all that
sort of thing. Great scheme, eh? What do you fellows think?"
The boys looked both doubtful and perplexed.
"Why, I don't know, Mr. Potter, that we want to make a--a Roman holiday
of it," objected Dick. "We started up the team just to have some fun,
you see."
"Well, you'll have your fun, won't you?" asked the newspaper man
eagerly. "Don't mind winning a prize and making a little money, too, do
you? Look here, fellows, I'm keen on this. I want to make it go. To tell
the truth, it was my idea. I put it up to Stevens and he fell for it.
This town needs livening up. Say, honest, we could have the finest sort
of a hullabaloo without half trying!"
"I don't see why not, Dick," observed Gordon, thinking a good deal of
the money side of the project.
Dick shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds sort of like a four-ring circus,
doesn't it?" He asked. "Still, I don't mind. I dare say it would amuse
folks."
"Amuse 'em! Say, I'll guarantee to have 'em talking nothing but baseball
in a week! I'll get 'em so they'll be offering fancy prices for the
first row in the grandstand!"
The boys laughed. There was something infectious in the man's enthusiasm
and the proposed affair began to loom up as a huge and very amusing
lark.
"Do you really think you can do it?" asked Dick.
"Watch me! I'll run a story to-morrow on the first page that
negotiations are under way looking to a deciding game, see? And I'll
hint that there is so much feeling between the two teams that the
outcome is doubtful. Then----"
"That's hardly truthful, is it?" asked Dick.
"Well, maybe I can get around that," was the untroubled reply. "I'll say
that the folks at the Point are so certain that their team will win that
they're willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third game."
"You've got some imagination," laughed Gordon.
"Have to have in my business," replied Mr. Potter with satisfaction.
"You trust me to work up the excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go
the limit. We'll print your score-cards for you, and--that reminds me.
How about a band? Ought to have a band there, oughtn't we?"
"Bands cost a good deal," Gordon objected.
"What of it? Why, say, we'll have three or four hundred folks to see
that game! We'll get 'em in from the country and over from Springdale
and Corwin and from miles around. It might be a good idea----" Mr.
Potter paused and stared into space a moment. Then he nodded vehemently.
"That's the scheme! I'll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that
afternoon. Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday."
Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in amazement.
"Why--why he wouldn't do that, would he?" gasped Gordon. "Not just for a
ball game?"
"Sure, he would, if the _Reporter_ got after him hard. Say, you see that
Point fellow, whatever his name is, and let me know by day after
to-morrow. And don't put it off too long. Let's strike while the iron's
hot. Folks want to see baseball now. In another three weeks it'll be
about out of season. Well, that's all. Glad to have met you fellows."
Mr. Potter shook hands briskly. "We'll give Clearfield a ball game she
won't forget! Good-night. I'll see you again in a day or two."