MR. POTTER GETS BUSY
When he was gone the two boys looked at each other a moment and then
began to laugh.
"Rather takes your breath away, doesn't he?" gasped Gordon.
"I should say so! And of all crazy stunts----"
"Get out! It's going to be a heap of fun! I'm for it--strong!"
"So I see. But maybe the Pointers won't care to take part in such a
silly affair."
"Why not? Why, we'll offer them twenty-five per cent. of the gate
receipts and they'll be dead anxious."
"Pshaw! They don't need any money. What would they do with it?"
"Do with it? Why--why, what would anyone do with it? Eat it, of course!"
"That's what I'd like to know. What are _we_ going to do with it, for
instance?"
"Oh, there's a lot of things we can do with it, Dick. We might--might
give it to charity or--or--oh, lots of things!"
"Well, we're in for it, anyway. I'll talk to Caspar to-morrow. I guess
two weeks from next Saturday would be a good date. The trouble is
they've got a lot of games arranged and they may not be able to play
us."
"You tell them what this Potter chap says and whoop it up, Dick. They
can cancel a game if they want to."
True to his word, Mr. Potter started the ball rolling the next morning.
The _Reporter_ contained an announcement on the front page under a big
head:
MAY PLAY OFF TIE
CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT BALL TEAMS
NEGOTIATE FOR THIRD GAME--BITTER
RIVALRY EXISTS
"Who has the better ball team, Clearfield or Rutter's Point? That's the
question that is agitating both this community and the summer colony at
the end of the trolley. And, if present plans carry, it is a question
that will soon be settled definitely, and, we hope, to the satisfaction
of Clearfield. Negotiations are to be opened to-day between
representatives of the two teams looking to a third and deciding contest
to be played on the High School field some time between now and the end
of the month. Each nine has won one game and each nine claims to be a
little better than the other. Over at the Point they are so certain that
they have the champion bunch of players that they're willing to do most
anything to secure another game with Clearfield. At this end of the line
there is an equally strong conviction to the effect that our own
aggregation has more than a shade on the Point team. That's the way it
stands now, but the _Reporter_ hopes to be able to announce in another
day or two that the managers and backers of the rival teams have met and
agreed on a deciding game. In which case we predict that those who are
fortunate enough to witness the final battle will see a struggle they
won't forget in a long time. Watch for developments!"
Besides that highly-colored effusion there was a short editorial inside
in which the writer extolled athletics in general and baseball in
particular. In twenty lines the writer alluded to Greek athletes, Roman
games, Christopher Mathewson, Tyrus Cobb, the American Eagle, the Spirit
of Fair Play and Clearfield. The style of the two productions was so
much alike that Dick and Gordon decided that Mr. Potter was responsible
for both.
"I hope," said Dick, "that Caspar won't see this until I've prepared him
for it. He will think we've gone crazy!"
As it happened, however, Caspar Billings was much too busy playing
tennis that morning to read the _Clearfield Reporter_, and when Dick met
him he knew nothing of Mr. Potter's activities. But five minutes later
he had found the paper and was chuckling enjoyably over the story. "It's
great!" he declared. "That fellow ought to be working in New York. He's
lost in Clearfield. Say, we'll have more fun than a picnic out of this,
Lovering. What sort of a prize did he say?"
"A cup or a phonograph or--or something like that."
"Me for a phonograph!" laughed Caspar. "Now, when can we play? Of
course, we'll go over to your field. Have to, anyway. How about two
weeks from Saturday?"
"That's the day I was going to suggest," replied Dick.
"That's all right for us. We had a game scheduled with a nine from the
Ocean House at Traskville, but they telephoned the other day that they
couldn't make up a team. That gives What's-his-name, your newspaper
friend, a fortnight to work up the excitement. And I'll bet you he will
do it!"
"I guess there's no doubt about that," replied Dick. "That's settled,
then, and I'll let Potter know. Did I tell you he wanted to get the
Mayor to declare a holiday and have the stores close?"
"Great Scott, no!" chuckled Caspar. "He's a wonder. Say, why don't you
suggest to him that it would be a bully idea to have the Governor issue
a proclamation? Wonder if the New York stock market will close,
Lovering."
"It will if Potter thinks of it," laughed Dick. "Well, I must be going.
I'll see you again next week and we'll arrange about an umpire."
"_An_ umpire!" scoffed Caspar. "We'll have to have two of them for this
game; one at the plate and one on bases. Maybe your friend Potter can
persuade President Johnson to officiate. This is going to be some game,
Lovering!"
"It's going to be a circus," replied Dick. "I dare say they'll be
selling popcorn and peanuts there!"
"Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I'm crazy about it. By the way, how
are you and young Townsend getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the
kid thinks you're about the finest thing that ever walked on--I
mean----"
"Ever hobbled on two crutches," laughed Dick. "Well, Harold and I pull
together pretty well these days. The boy is really working like a slave,
Billings. I didn't think he could do it."
"He's a heap more decent than he was the first of the season. You always
wanted to kick him then. Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose
he's told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn't do so badly,
either. If you criticize his way of scoring he looks at you haughtily
and says, 'This is the way Lovering does it, and he knows!'"
"You'll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your scorer doesn't do you
justice, Billings. Good-bye!"
It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational aspect of the third
contest with Rutter's Point. Fudge loved excitement and color and
romance, and for that reason the _Reporter's_ daily items about the
soul-stirring event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book and
almost filled it with the amazing articles that appeared from Mr.
Potter's feverish and versatile pen. On the morning after Dick's call on
Caspar Billings the _Reporter_ blazed forth at the top of the third
column of the first page as follows:
THIRD GAME AGREED ON
CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER'S POINT TO PLAY OFF
TIE ON AUG. 27--LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT
STAKE--WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.
What the captains said was that they expected a close game and didn't
care to predict the winner. At least, that's what they really said. In
Mr. Potter's account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot more.
Gordon read his remarks with astonishment and began to wonder whether he
had not possibly said all those things after all!
[Illustration: "Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday"]
Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and
did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately, several of
Louise's girl friends were there and Dick's frequent absences from her
side were not so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned
dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever captain, played the sort of
baseball one reads of. The Camp's pitcher was something of a marvel and
soon had Dick's charges eating out of his hand, to use Harold's
expression. The contest developed into a pitcher's battle in which Tom
had slightly the worst of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by
the score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting as some
previous contests, it was at least nearly free of errors and full of
fast, clean playing. Dick regretted on the way home that Louise had seen
a defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that she had enjoyed
it all very much.
"You must come a week from to-day," said Dick. "Lesterville is coming to
play us a return game and that will be close and exciting, I think.
Would you care to?"
"Yes, indeed, only we'll be at the Point then. Still, I could come over
on the trolley, couldn't I? I'll get Morris to come with me. I wouldn't
think of having you come way over there for me, Dick."
Dick expressed his entire willingness to go to the Point and escort her
to town, but Louise refused to allow it. "If you'll come and see us
during the game it will do just as well," she said. Dick didn't think
so, but he said nothing.
The mass meeting to take action on securing a new athletic field came
off that evening in the High School assembly hall and, after much
discussion, the meeting endorsed the committee's plan to lease Tilden's
meadow for a term of two years. The committee reported that it had a
balance on hand of twenty-eight dollars and forty-six cents and asked
for more money. It was voted to appoint canvassers to visit the students
and the graduates, and, if not enough money was secured from them, to
ask the public to assist. Dick found himself one of the committee on
subscriptions. Lanny was another. They sympathized with each other on
their way home and were gibed at by Gordon and Fudge. Fudge offered Dick
five cents then and there, and, his offer being unexpectedly accepted,
had to borrow the nickel from Gordon.
The next Monday the _Reporter_ announced that a silver cup was to be
donated by the merchants as a prize for the team winning the baseball
game and that it would be on exhibition all next week in the window of
Wetherell's jewelry store. Tuesday afternoon Mr. Potter called on Dick
with a proof of the poster which the _Reporter_ was getting out. It was
a gay piece of work in red and green ink and well calculated to attract
the eye. In the center was a picture of a batsman with a flashing eye
and a poised bat. That was printed in red. The lettering was in green
and announced: "Championship Baseball! Clearfield vs. Rutter's Point,
High School Field, Saturday, September third, two-thirty o'clock. Music
by Nagel's Band. Admission 50 Cents, Reserved Seats 75 Cents. Tickets at
Howland's Drug Store, and at the Field before the game."
"We're going to use a heavy cardboard stock," explained Mr. Potter, "and
we'll strike off a hundred of 'em. We're going to charge you just what
the stock and the labor cost us and no more."
"What about the score-cards?" asked Dick.
"Won't cost you a cent. I've got about a dozen advertisements and those
will pay for the cards. Another thing we're going to do is to run an ad
of the game on Thursday, Friday and Saturday of next week."
"That's very kind," murmured Dick. "You really think folks will pay
seventy-five cents for seats? Wouldn't it be better to make the prices
fifty cents and a quarter?"
"I don't think so, Lovering. We want 'em to understand that what they're
going to see is a real game of ball. They'll pay the price all right.
That reminds me of another thing. How would it do for you fellows to get
hold of a crackerjack pitcher for this game? You could get one for
thirty dollars or so. There's Lafferty, of Providence, for instance. I
dare say he'd twirl for you for twenty-five and his expenses. He's a
corker, too! I've seen him work."
"I guess not," replied Dick. "I think we'll stick to home talent. It
seems a bit fairer."
"Well, just as you say. This fellow Mason, though, is pretty good, and
everyone would like to see the home team win that game. Better think it
over. If you change your mind you let me know and I'll attend to the
matter for you. I suppose you chaps are keeping up practice pretty
well?"
"Yes, we practice every day except when there's a game."
"That's the ticket! You play Lesterville next Saturday, don't you? Well,
I'll give a good write-up of the game on Monday. Got to keep the
excitement going."
When the newspaper man had gone Dick went out to the porch and sank into
his favorite chair beside the little table. He was tired and the day was
a scorching hot one. There had been a solid three hours that morning
with Harold Townsend and, although Harold had done his share without a
whimper, it had been pretty hard for teacher as well as pupil. Dick
closed his eyes and frowned in the green shadow of the vines. Was Harold
going to make it? There were times when Dick was sure that he would, but
also there were moments, usually when, as to-day, he was fagged out,
when he had his doubts. If Harold could remember what he had learned
when the time came he would undoubtedly get through, but there was
always the danger that he wouldn't. Dick sighed. At least, though, he
reflected, his frown fading, he was doing his honest best for the boy.
And--and here the frown quite disappeared--he had made a nice lot of
money that was greatly needed. He would, he told himself, have enough by
the middle of the month, when Harold went off to Rifle Point to put the
summer's work to the test, to pay for a new heater for the house. That
was the most necessary improvement of the many that were needed. For the
last two or three years the old furnace, never satisfactory, had quite
failed to keep them comfortable in cold weather. Dick was wondering how
much the hardware man would allow him for it when the gate clicked and
Gordon and Morris Brent came up the path.
Morris still used his crutches, but, as he explained, the doctor had
told him yesterday that he might lay them aside in another week. "And
I'll be mighty glad to," he added. "They're rotten things to have to get
about with." Then his eye fell on Dick's crutches, leaning within reach,
and he colored. "I guess I oughtn't to kick, though," he added hastily.
Dick smiled. "They are awkward if you're not used to them, I suppose,
Morris. I'm glad you're getting on so well. Gordon says you're going to
move to the Point this week."
Morris nodded. "Wednesday," he said. "I want you and Gordon to come out
some evening and have dinner. Will you?"
"Why, yes, I'd be glad to, Morris. Thank you."
"Then I'll settle on a day with the folks. Mother told me to tell you
she wanted very much to have you. Louise, too. How would Saturday do?"
"All right, I think. We have a game Saturday, but I dare say it will be
over by five. What time do you dine?"
"Seven. That'll give you heaps of time. I'm going to fetch Louise in to
see the game and we can all go back together." Morris turned to Gordon.
"That suit you?" he asked.
"Finely. Could we get the quarter of six car, do you think? I'd like
mighty well to get a swim before dinner. Got an extra bathing suit out
there?"
"You can take mine. What do you want to do with this?" Morris held up a
book in a red cloth cover.
"Oh, I brought that over for you, Dick," said Gordon. "That is, I
borrowed it and he brought it. Thought you might like to look it over."
"Much obliged," said Dick, accepting the volume and reading the title
rather puzzledly. "'The Automobile; it's Care and Management.'
Er--what----" He looked from Gordon to Morris. "What's the idea,
fellows? I'm much obliged, of course, but why should I want to study up
on autos, please?"
"Oh, you like to know how to do everything," replied Gordon carelessly.
"That's mighty interesting, isn't it, Morris?"
"Great!" agreed the other enthusiastically. Dick still looked puzzled,
but opened the book and glanced at two or three of its pages.
"All right, I'll have a go at it some time. It does look interesting.
Thank you." He laid the volume on the table. "What ever became of that
car of yours, Morris?"
"It's home. I'm going to sell it. I paid Stacey the rest of the money I
owed him the other day. He's a mean little runt. Don't want to buy it,
do you, Dick?"
Dick smiled and shook his head. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford it. It
would be sort of handy for me to get around in, though, wouldn't it?
Look here!" He viewed the two boys searchingly. "You fellows didn't
bring me this book expecting I'd get daffy about automobiles and buy
that one of yours, did you?"
"Of course not," disclaimed Gordon hurriedly. "Besides, Morris has a
buyer for that car already. That is, he thinks he has."
"All right. Still I don't see why you think I want to read up on
automobiles," said Dick. "What's the use of knowing how to run a car and
grease its joints if I haven't got one and couldn't run it if I had?"
"Couldn't run it! Of course you could run it," said Gordon. "Couldn't
he, Morris?"
"Easy! It's nothing to do. I could show you how in two days. Why----"
But at that moment Morris encountered Gordon's warning look and
subsided. Dick stared perplexedly.
"I think you chaps are crazed by the heat," he said. "You've got
automobiles on the brain. What you need, Gordie, is to get out and play
ball. It must be about time to start for the field, too. By the way,
Harry telephoned over at noon that he couldn't get out to-day."
"Again? I'll bet anything Harry's father isn't keeping him away from
practice. He's just lazy. I guess we'd better come down on him with that
twenty-five cent fine!"
"I'll go over with you and look on if you don't mind," said Morris. "You
can't call me one of the enemy now, you know."
"Glad to have you," responded Dick. "I'll put this book inside and we'll
start along. We'll make a fine appearance," he laughed. "Two cripples
and a crazy fellow!"