GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS
That was just about the busiest week for Dick that he ever remembered
spending. In the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter to be seen and
Mr. Potter's newest schemes to be considered. And, after that, for
nearly three hours, he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter's
room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley slaves. All the
hard work wasn't the younger boy's, either, for Dick had to do a lot of
studying in order to maintain with dignity his rôle of teacher. It would
never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him napping! The younger
boy's capacity for study was a revelation to Dick, and his progress a
source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week Dick could,
and did, assure himself that the battle was won! That unless Harold had
an almost total lapse of memory when he was put through examinations he
could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course cramming is not the best
means of learning, and much of what Harold learned that summer he was
bound to forget later, but Dick hoped that the forgetting would not come
until he had passed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and
relief when Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in
what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her
gratitude, or the expression of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.
After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one
o'clock Dick had two hours to himself. Or he had unless the
indefatigable Mr. Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce
progress or to present a problem to be solved. At four there was
practice at the field. In the evenings Dick very often had to go over
the next day's lessons, a task more often than not interrupted by the
visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all three. Tuesday
evening not only that trio but Morris Brent as well descended upon him.
Morris had at last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost
imperceptible limp. The doctor assured him that the limp would leave him
in a week or so, and Morris, an ardent football enthusiast, was already
talking punts and drop-kicks.
Since Logan had readily consented to play a game with Clearfield at
eleven o'clock the next morning, and since Dick's services would be
needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been
postponed until Wednesday evening. Dick hadn't the heart to ask Harold
to give up seeing Logan and Rutter's Point play in the afternoon. And so
when the visitors announced their presence that evening by a series of
loud whistles from the gate Dick closed his books regretfully, knowing
that he would have to sit up very late after his callers had gone.
They sat out on the porch and talked of many things while the crickets
and katydids chirped and fiddled in the darkness. It had been decided
that Tom was to pitch only three innings of the morning's game and that
Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep Tom fresh for the big
game on Saturday. To equalize matters, Logan was to pitch her third
baseman against Clearfield so that she might save her regular box artist
for the afternoon contest. They discussed this and other features of the
morrow's battle, and then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted
to the Saturday's event. Fudge was filled with excitement these days and
stuttered like an empty soda fountain whenever the subject was broached.
"Jordan and Fillmore's window is f-f-f-full of flags and p-p-pennants,"
announced Fudge. "It looks s-s-s-swell!"
"It's sort of one-sided, though," said Lanny. "They ought to put up some
Point flags too."
"I don't suppose there are any," answered Gordon. "They haven't any
regular color over there, have they?"
"Sure; blue and yellow. It's a funny combination, but some of the girls
out at the Point have made some flags and they say they look mighty
well."
"Mr. Potter told me to-day," remarked Dick, "that he's hired four kids
to sell flags at the field. He got Jordan and Fillmore to make up two
hundred of them for him. He can certainly think of more things to do!"
"Those are probably the flags they have in their window," suggested
Lanny. "What are they like, Fudge?"
"J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have just a C instead of
C. H. S. on them. They're s-s-swell!"
"You told us that before," said Gordon. "I guess Potter will be stuck
with about a hundred and fifty of his two hundred."
"I don't believe he will. Say, why didn't we think of doing that,
fellows? We might have made a lot of money." And Lanny looked almost
accusingly at Dick.
"I don't see that we need any more money," replied the manager. "We'll
have so much as it is that we'll have to open a bank account. I'm scared
to death to have it in the house."
"How much have we got now?" asked Lanny.
"Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell you my scheme for
using it, Lanny?"
"Yes," was the unenthusiastic reply. "But I don't believe----"
"It's a dandy scheme," interrupted Gordon quickly. "We--we'll talk it
over some day, after this game's over with. No use trying to think of
anything else right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile
book any?"
"No, I haven't had a minute's time. No hurry, is there? I've about
decided to wait another month or so and get one of the next year's
models. I've already got almost two dollars laid by toward it."
"Well, don't buy a cheap car," laughed Lanny. "Get--get one like
Morris's."
The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by Morris. "Yes, but don't
break a leg with it," he exclaimed. Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed
loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness of the porch
with a puzzled look on his face. He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a
kick at Lanny's shin and, judging from Lanny's pained contortions
immediately afterward, Dick fancied that Gordon's aim had been true. For
over a week now Dick had been aware that some project was under way by
the others that he was purposely excluded from. What it was he couldn't
imagine, but that it had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More
than once he had seen warning glances sent from one fellow to another
and quite often a remark had been cut short at his approach. That the
mystery concerned him particularly Dick did not suspect, however. And
just now he had too many things on his mind to allow of much
consideration of it.
"You really ought to read that book, though," said Gordon. "Oughtn't he,
Morris?"
Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, "You really ought, Dick!"
and Lanny murmured something about it being well to know such things.
"Look here," exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half in earnest, "if you
fellows don't quit nagging me to read that book I'll--I'll pitch it out
the window! What the dickens do I want to learn about running an
automobile for? Are you fellows dippy?"
There was complete silence until Lanny said: "You never can tell, Dick,
when you might be called on to--to profit by the--er----"
"Oh, certainly," responded Dick with sarcasm. "Most any old day I might
get the offer of a chauffeur's job! Or maybe you fellows are going to
save up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!"
"Ha, ha!" said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled. Gordon had a fit of
coughing. Morris became intensely interested in the stars seen through
the vines.
"You'd make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick," laughed Gordon finally.
"Why?"
"Why--er--just because," replied Gordon flatly. "Say, I've got to be
going home, fellows. You coming my way?"
The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm for departure,
and after they had clicked the little gate behind them Dick could hear
them talking in low and excited tones as they passed up the street. He
shook his head as he moved his crutches toward the doorway.
"Either they're all crazy," he murmured, "or they're trying to work some
sort of a game on me. I wonder what it is."
But he didn't wonder long, for the morrow's lessons awaited him upstairs
and when he had finished with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder
about anything.
Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the next forenoon. The
visitors arrived nearly twenty minutes late and the game dragged. There
was a lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to make more errors
than its opponent. Curtis Wayland and the rival pitcher were pretty
evenly matched and it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her
endeavors, failed to tally as many errors as Logan that the home team
stood three runs ahead when the contest was called to allow the visitors
to snatch some dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn't
derive much satisfaction from that game, and was inclined to be downcast
until, just before supper time, Harold telephoned over to him that the
Point team had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered up and saw
things more brightly. And then, scarcely two minutes later, came Gordon
with his news.
"We've got the field, Dick!" he cried from the sidewalk even before he
reached the gate. "Mr. Brent is going to give it to the school! It isn't
going to be cut up!"
"Give it to the school!" echoed Dick amazedly.
"Yes! Isn't that fine and dandy?" Gordon sprawled into a chair on the
porch and fanned himself vigorously with his straw hat. "He's having a
deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes back it will be
ours. Morris is giving it."
"Morris! How can he give it?"
"Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris's name. It's to be called
Brent Field. And he almost as much as promised to build us a big new
grandstand some day! Isn't he--isn't he a corker?"
"But--but what--how----"
Gordon laughed excitedly. "I guess it was seeing us play the other day
that did it. He said he guessed as we got so much enjoyment out of the
field we ought to have it. He didn't get home until nearly half-past
four and I called at the office three times before I found him. I
thought the first time that I'd sneak off and not come back. But I'm
glad I did, though. I was scared to death when I went in. But he was as
nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball and football and
the Athletic Committee and the field we talked of getting, and
then--then--well, then he asked me if I thought the fellows would like
to keep the field. And I said of course they would. And then he said he
had decided to make the school a present of it if--if I wanted him to."
"If you wanted him to!" exclaimed his hearer.
Gordon nodded. "You know he told me the time I--the time I was with
Morris when he got hurt that if I wanted anything I was to ask him for
it. So the other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field I--I
sort of reminded him of what he had said and told him I'd like him to
let us use the field that day. I didn't tell you, but that was how we
got it. Well, to-day he said I hadn't made the most of my opportunity,
or something like that. He said I should have asked for the field
outright if I wanted it. 'Why didn't you?' he asked. Gee, I didn't know
what to say, so I just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said
how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did for Morris that day
and that if I'd asked him then for the field he'd have given it to me; I
mean to the school. So I said, 'Yes, sir, if you please,' and he laughed
and said: 'All right, Merrick. I'll have the deed made out to-morrow.
But I want you to understand that it is Morris who is giving the field
and not me. He's one of you and the gift will come better from him.' And
then he shook hands with me and walked 'way out to the stairs with me!
And--and say, Dick, isn't it _great_?"