FINKLER’S FIELD
That evening, according to custom, the nine banqueted in the New Dining
Hall behind tightly closed doors. The New Dining Hall was not as grand
as its name sounded, being only a smaller room opening from the main
hall and used chiefly at graduation time to accommodate the overflow
of visiting relatives and friends. The banquet was the regular school
supper, with the substitution of steak for cold meats and the addition
of ice cream and cake. But it isn’t food alone that constitutes a
banquet; without companionship and good spirits the most elaborate
repast in the world fails to deserve that title. To-night good spirits
were rampant, and companionship was a drug on the market, for hadn’t
they all worked together for three months with just one end in view,
and hadn’t that end been attained? Dolph said something to that effect
in his speech and the affirmative answer was so loud and enthusiastic
that the boys in the main dining hall laughed in sympathy and cheered
joyously, an infraction of the regulations which the instructors
forebore to notice.
The banquet was practically over; only Sam and Joe Williams still
nibbled with fast failing courage at their third helpings of ice
cream; the speeches had been made and the only formality remaining
was the election of a new captain. But there was no hurry about that.
Every one of the twenty-two boys who lined the two long tables were
supremely contented. I was going to say supremely comfortable, but
Sam’s countenance was assuming an expression rendering the selection
of that word inadvisable. At the head of one of the tables sat Dolph,
at the head of the other Mr. Shay. The coach leaned back in his chair
resisting nobly, in deference to a rule of deportment which he knew of
but was not in the habit of heeding, a desire to bring into use the
toothpick reposing in his vest pocket. Mr. Shay was not in sympathy
with the ban on the public display of that useful implement, but he
believed in the wisdom of the advice, “When in Rome do as the Romans
do.” As Rome wasn’t using toothpicks this evening, he sighed and
heroically removed his fingers from tempting contact. Sam finally laid
down his spoon, gazed wistfully at the remaining portion of ice cream
and gave his attention to the conversation going on around him.
“Three errors was all we made,” Milton Wales was declaring emphatically.
“And Chase made four.”
“We each made four,” corrected Gus Turnbull. “I don’t think that’s so
bad, though, do you, Mr. Shay?”
“No, but it’s four too many.”
“Where do you get four?” asked Wales impatiently. “You made one and
Harry made one――――”
“I sure did,” groaned Smythe.
“And Jack Borden made one. Where’s your fourth?”
“Sam’s wild throw to second,” answered Gus.
“Call that an error?” asked Tyler Wicks.
“Sure. It advanced the runner, didn’t it? How about it, Chesty?”
“Four errors,” answered Manager Harris, speaking from the authority of
official scorer. “We won just the same, so what’s the difference?”
“Of course, mine was an error,” said Sam. “And a bum one, too. But
there was one error made that hardly ought to be called an error.”
“Which was that?” asked Mr. Shay curiously.
“Jack Borden’s, sir; when he dropped that fly.”
“Well, I’d call that an error,” said the coach, “especially since it
let in a run.”
“I know, but what I mean is that Jack had a good reason for not
catching it. Show Mr. Shay your hand, Jack.”
But Jack shook his head, smiling shamefacedly.
“Go on,” said the others. “What’s the matter, Borden? Hurt it?”
“A little,” owned Jack. “I――I burned it at the fire last night.”
“Let’s see!”
So Jack held it up for inspection and a murmur of surprise and sympathy
went around the table. Dolph opened his eyes very wide. Mr. Shay
frowned.
“I should say you had burned it,” said the latter dryly. “Did you know
that, Jones?”
“I certainly did not, sir!” responded Dolph. “Didn’t you know, Jack, we
wouldn’t have let you play if we’d known your hand was in that shape?”
“Yes, that’s the reason I didn’t say anything about it,” answered Jack
naïvely, producing a burst of laughter. “I could have caught that ball
all right if I’d just remembered my hand, Dolph. But when I saw the
ball coming I forgot, and when it landed it――it hurt like the dickens
and before I could squeeze it it had bounced out.”
“You might have lost us the game,” said Dolph reproachfully.
“Oh, well, cut out the post mortems,” begged Ted. “Don’t forget that
Jack’s hit brought in the winning run. Besides, you want to remember
that Jack had been fighting for right field for a week and he knew if
he showed that hand around his hated rival would get the job.” Ted
smiled across at Will Watkins.
“I guess I would have, too,” said Watkins with a grin. “I’d have done
just what Borden did, you bet!”
There was another laugh at this frank confession and then Dolph
suggested that they get busy with the election. It was the custom to
elect to the captaincy a fellow who would be in his senior year, which
narrowed the list of candidates to three: Sam Phillips, Harry Smythe
and George Truesdale. Dolph as retiring captain had the privilege of
making the first nomination.
“There are three first team fellows,” he said, “any one of whom would
make a good leader for next year. They have all worked hard and all
have contributed to the team’s success this year and last. But there’s
one of the three who has done a little more than the others, a chap
who has got us out of many a tight hole, a chap who is always cheerful
and jolly, always cool-headed――no matter if the bases are full with
none out!――a chap whom we all like and admire and respect and one who,
I believe, will make as good a captain as Maple Ridge has ever had.
Fellows, I have the honor and pleasure to nominate Sam Phillips.”
Every one clapped and cheered, and the nomination was vociferously
seconded. Sam, with reddened cheeks, seized his spoon and began anew
on the ice cream. Ted, laughing, took the plate away from him. Gus
Turnbull claimed recognition.
“Without wishing to say a word against Sam, for Sam is all Dolph says
he is――and more――I want to propose for the captaincy a fellow who has
played on the team for three years and who has always worked hard
and deserves recognition for――for his services. I nominate George
Truesdale.”
More applause. “I second the nomination,” said Wales.
Then Morton Prince nominated Harry Smythe, and Smythe jumped to his
feet. “I decline,” he said. “Much obliged, but I decline. I’m not the
sort to be captain. I’d be scared to death, for one thing. I――I never
could look haughty enough, you know, and you’ve simply got to look
haughty, fellows. Leave me out, please.” And Harry sat down amidst
laughter.
“Are there any other nominations?” asked Dolph. “If not we’ll take a
vote.”
“Vote!” was the cry.
“Then those in favor of Phillips will arise and those in favor of
Truesdale will remain seated!”
There was a scraping of chairs as sixteen of the fellows arose,
Truesdale with them. Dolph counted them.
“Sixteen for Phillips and six for Truesdale,” he announced. “Phillips
is elected.”
A shout went up and the fellows crowded about Sam to shake his hand or
thump him on the back. Truesdale demanded attention.
“I move that the election be made unanimous,” he said.
Gus Turnbull promptly seconded the motion. Then Harry Smythe demanded a
cheer for Sam, which was given lustily, and one for Dolph, to which the
response was no less hearty, and then one “for Maple Ridge, fellows,
and make it good!”
And just as the last long-drawn-out “School!” had died away there was
a polite knock at the folding doors and Dick Furst threw them open. On
the threshold stood Dr. Benedict and a tall man in loose-fitting black
clothes, who viewed the scene in frank bewilderment. Silence fell on
the room as the fellows saw the visitors. Dr. Benedict smiled and held
up his hand.
“I must apologize for intruding on your ceremonies, young gentlemen,
but I have just received some very good news and, as it interests you
quite as much as it does me, I have brought the bearer of it to you and
will ask him to deliver his own message.”
The Doctor laid his hand on the arm of the stranger.
“Boys, this is Mr. Finkler. Mr. Finkler, these young gentlemen are the
members of our baseball team. And Mr. Shay, their coach.”
The boys greeted the introduction with a subdued “_A-ay!_” of applause
in which one might have detected both surprise and curiosity. Farmer
Finkler bobbed his head, looking very embarrassed, and cleared his
throat. Then he thrust a pair of big gnarled hands into the pockets of
his voluminous trousers and seemed to find encouragement there.
“Well, boys,” he began in his gruff voice, “I ain’t got much to say. I
didn’t expect to make a speech when I came over here this evening, but
Dr. Benedict here seemed to think I ought to. And maybe he’s right.
Because it gives me a chance to thank you all for the help you gave
me last night. I’m mighty grateful. I guess I’d been a heap worse off
to-day than I be――am if it wasn’t for you boys. I lost my stable and my
barn, but those can be built up again. I saved my horses, and that’s
the main thing. I――I’m fond o’ them horses; guess horses is a sort of
a weakness o’ mine, boys. I ain’t saying anything about the value of
’em; that’s considerable, too; but I’d just plumb hated to lose them
horses, boys. So, I――I’m much obliged to you one and all. And――and I
guess I’ll just say good night and go along home now.”
But the Doctor laid a detaining hand on his arm.
“Just a minute, sir,” he laughed. “You’re forgetting the main thing,
aren’t you? About the land?”
“Oh! Well, it’s just that I want to show you that I’m grateful, boys,”
said the farmer. “You’ve been wanting a piece of my meadow for a good
while. Maybe I’ve been――been sort o’ prejudiced against you.” There
was a twinkle in his eye and the boys grinned responsively. “Well,
we’ll let bygones be bygones. The land’s yours, as much as you want of
it, two acres or five. The Doctor and I we settled that part of it.
It ain’t going to cost you anything. You’re welcome to it, and I hope
it’ll make you a good playground.”
The cheer that went up was spontaneous and so unexpected by Farmer
Finkler that he fell back from the doorway in alarm. The Doctor
laughingly reassured him. “They’re just showing their appreciation of
your generosity,” he explained.
“I want to know!” ejaculated the farmer.
The boys were shoving Dolph forward with cries of “Speech, Dolph,
speech!” So Dolph, a little embarrassed, accepted the office.
“Mr. Finkler,” he said earnestly, “I don’t believe anything I can say
will make you understand how much we fellows appreciate what you’ve
done. Not only us few here, sir, but the whole school――and the fellows
who’ve gone and those to come. It’s going to make a big difference,
sir, for it will give us an athletic field as good as any in the
country. We――we’re awfully grateful to you, sir. It――it’s fine and
dandy of you! What we did to help last night at the fire we were mighty
glad to do, but you’ve repaid us fifty times over, sir. And――and I want
to say――to promise on behalf of the whole school, Mr. Finkler, that
after this you won’t have any trouble about your apples, sir!”
Laughter and applause greeted this remark.
Farmer Finkler’s wrinkled face relaxed. “Well,” he drawled with that
twinkle showing again in his eye, “I guess that don’t matter much. I
guess a few apples ain’t anything between friends.”
Dolph turned to Dr. Benedict. “And, Doctor,” he resumed, “I’d like to
suggest, sir, that when the new field is finished we name it after Mr.
Finkler.”
A shout of approval went up and the Doctor nodded smilingly.
“A good idea, Jones,” he agreed, “a very good idea. We will call it
Finkler’s Field.”
THE END.
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
The New Boy at Hilltop
Illustrated in Colors, Ornamental Cloth Cover with Inlay in Colors,
12mo, $1.50.
The story of a boy’s experiences at boarding school. The first
chapter describes his arrival and reception by the others. The
remaining chapters tell of his life on the football field, on
the crew, his various scrapes and fights, school customs and
school entertainments. His experiences are varied and cover
nearly all the incidents of boarding school life.
Winning His “Y”
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Decorated Cloth Cover, $1.50.
The scene of this story is Yardley Hall, the school made
famous in “Double Play” and “Forward Pass!”; and we meet again
the manly, self-reliant Dan Vinton, his young friend Gerald
Pennimore, and many others of the “old boys” whose athletic
achievements and other doings have been so entertainingly
chronicled by Mr. Barbour. The new story is thus slightly
connected with its predecessors, but will be fully as
interesting to a boy who has not read them as if it were not.
Double Play
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
Further experiences of Dan Vinton――hero of “Forward Pass!”――at
Yardley Hall. He becomes in a way the mentor of the
millionaire’s son, Gerald Pennimore, who enters the school.
There is the description of an exciting baseball game, and the
stratagem by which the wily coach, Payson, puts some ginger
into an overtrained squad and develops from it a winning team
will appeal to every boy.
Forward Pass!
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
In his new story, Mr. Barbour returns to the field of his
earlier and more successful stories, such as “The Half-Back,”
“Captain of the Crew,” etc. The main interest in “Forward
Pass!” centers about the “new” football; the story is,
nevertheless, one of preparatory-school life and adventures in
general. The book contains several illustrations and a number
of diagrams of the “new” football plays. Mr. Barbour considers
this his best story.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK
BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
The Spirit of the School
The Story of a Boy Who Works His Way through School. Illustrated in
Colors. Cloth, $1.50.
Four Afloat
Four Afoot
Four in Camp
A Series of Books Relating the Adventures of Four Boy Companions.
Illustrated in Colors, $1.50 each.
On Your Mark!
A Story of College Life and Athletics. Illustrated in Colors by C. M.
RELYEA. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
No other author has caught so truly the spirit of school and
college life.
The Arrival of Jimpson
Illustrated. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
Stories of college pranks, baseball, football, hockey, and
college life.
Weatherby’s Inning
A Story of College Life and Baseball. Illustrated in Colors by C. M.
RELYEA. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
A fascinating story of college life and sport.
Behind the Line
A Story of School and Football. Illustrated by C. M. RELYEA. 12mo.
Cloth, $1.50.
Captain of the Crew
Illustrated by C. M. RELYEA. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
A fresh, graphic, delightful story that appeals to all healthy
boys and girls.
For the Honor of the School
A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport. Illustrated by C. M.
RELYEA. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
The Half-Back
Illustrated by B. WEST CLINEDINST. 12mo. Cloth, $1.50.
“It is in every sense an out-and-out boys’ book.”――_Boston
Herald_.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK
BY JAMES SHELLEY HAMILTON
Junior Days
Illustrated in Colors. Inlay in Colors on Cover, 12 mo, Cloth, $1.50.
A third story by the author of “Butt Chanler, Freshman,” and
“The New Sophomore,” in which the heroes of those stories
are again in evidence with other and new characters of equal
interest. In his latest story, Mr. Hamilton takes up the life
of upper classmen. The story has all of the close knowledge of
life at college and in a small college town that has marked Mr.
Hamilton’s former books, and there is also a wider and broader
view befitting his older characters as they come in contact
with the bigger world outside.
The New Sophomore
Illustrated in Colors. Inlay in Colors on Cover, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
The story of Butt Chanler’s sophomore year, but with a new
member of Butt’s class for hero. Plot counts more than in the
former story; for a strong detective interest centers around a
statue of a river goddess, hidden by one class while the other
attempts to find and capture it. The hero, after accidentally
putting the “enemy” on the trail of the goddess, finally saves
her by his ingenuity.
Butt Chanler, Freshman
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Decorated Cloth, $1.50.
“Butt” Chanler is a freshman, and the story begins with the
first days of fall term and extending through one of the most
successful baseball seasons the college has ever known. There
are all the events of a freshman’s life that a boy loves to
look forward to and the graduate to look back upon.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK
BY JOSEPH A. ALTSHELER
The Riflemen of the Ohio
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
The fourth in the series, and the best of this author’s
frontier Indian tales. In this story Mr. Altsheler has again
conducted his now famous band of hunters and scouts over ground
made historically celebrated by warfare and ambuscades in the
early days of our pioneer life. The book is full of thrilling
incidents and episodes, Indian seizure and torture, Indian
customs in war and peace, and the graphic narration of decisive
battles fought along the Ohio.
The Free Rangers
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
The exciting journey down the Mississippi to New Orleans of
five young woodsmen, some of whose adventures were told in “The
Forest Runners,” to interview the Spanish Governor-General.
After many struggles with a renegade, their old enemy, Braxton
Wyatt, and a traitorous Spaniard, Alvarez, they accomplish
their object and are later largely responsible for the safe
voyage of a supply fleet from New Orleans to Kentucky.
The Forest Runners
Illustrated in Color, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
This story deals with the further adventures of the two young
woodsmen in the history of Kentucky who were the heroes of “The
Young Trailers.” The plot describes the efforts of the boys to
bring a consignment of powder to a settlement threatened by the
Indians. The book is full of thrills to appeal to every boy who
loves a good story.
The Young Trailers
Illustrated, 12mo, Ornamental Cloth, $1.50.
A boys’ story, telling of the first settlers in Kentucky. Their
pleasures and hardships, their means of protection, methods of
obtaining food and ammunition are described in a way that makes
the reader live with them. The life led by the young hero――his
fights with Indians and his captivity among them――is vividly
pictured.
The Last of the Chiefs
Illustrated in Colors, 12mo, Cloth, $1.50.
Two white boys join a caravan crossing the plains. After an
ambuscade, from which they alone escape through the good will
of an Indian guide, they establish themselves in the Montana
hills, and live as trappers. When returning to civilization to
sell their furs they are captured by Indians and witness the
destruction of the tribes by Custer’s army and his allies.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK
* * * * *
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to
follow the text that they illustrate.
――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.