A TIN CAN FOR THE YELLOW DOG
With Ripley in the box Gridley won its third game of the season,
beating Brayton High School by a score of five to two.
"It ought to have been a whitewash against a small-fry crowd like
Brayton," Coach Luce confided to Captain Purcell.
"What was our weak spot, Coach?"
"Have you an opinion, Captain?" asked the coach.
"Yes, but I'm afraid I'm wrong."
"What is your idea?"
"Why, it seemed to me, Mr. Luce, that Ripley went stiff at just
the wrong times. Yet I hate to say that, and I am afraid I'm
unfair, for Rip surely does throw in some wonderful balls."
"You've struck my idea, anyway," responded Mr. Luce. "Please
don't say anything about it to the other men. But, between ourselves,
Captain, I think we'll do well to give Ripley few and unimportant
chances this season. Most people can't see where real grit comes
in, in baseball"
"Yet you think the lack of grit, or stamina, is just what ails
Rip?" asked Captain Purcell keenly.
"You can judge, from what I've said," replied Coach Luce.
"I'm glad then, Coach, for it shows I wasn't so far off the track
in my own private judgment."
Yet, to hear Fred Ripley tell about the game, it wasn't such a
small affair. He judged his foemen by the fact that they had
to contend with _him_.
"Five to two is the safest margin we've had yet," he confided
to those who listened to him at the High School. "More than that,
we had Brayton tied down so that, at no time in the game, did
they have any show to break the score against us. Now, if Luce
and Purcell fix it up for me to pitch the real games of the season"
"Oh, cut it out, Rip," advised one listener, good-naturedly.
"Brayton is only a fishball team, anyway. Not a real, sturdy
beef-eater in the lot."
The season moved on briskly now. Dick pitched two games, and
Darrin one in between Prescott's pair. Dick's first game was
won by a score of one to nothing; his second game, the return
date against Gardiner, was a tie. The game in which Darrin pitched
was won by a score of three to two.
Then came a game with a team not much above Brayton's standing.
"Prescott and Darrin must be saved for some of the bigger games,"
decided Coach Luce. "Purcell, don't you think it will be safe
to trust Ripley to pitch against Cedarville High School?"
"Yes," nodded the captain of the nine. "I don't believe Cedarville
could harm us, anyway, if we put left field or shortstop in the
box."
Fred Ripley was notified. At once Cedarville became, in his talk,
one of the most formidable nines on the state's High School circuit.
"But we'll skin 'em, you'll see," promised Fred, through the week.
"Be at the game, and see what I can do when I'm feeling well.
Cedarville has no chance."
Ripley was in high spirits all through the week. All through
that Saturday forenoon he moved about in a trance of exultation.
Yet, underneath it all, he was somewhat seedy in a physical sense,
for he had been out late the night before to meet Tip and hand
over some money.
Late that Saturday forenoon, Lawyer Ripley returned from a business
trip. Soon after he returned home, and had seen a man in his
library, he went in search of his wife.
"Where's Fred?" demanded the lawyer.
"He went out up the street, to get a good walk," replied Mrs.
Ripley. "You know, my dear, he is to pitch for Gridley in one
of the biggest games of the season this afternoon."
"Hm!" said the lawyer. "Well, see here. Let Fred have his luncheon.
Don't say a word until then. As soon as he is over with the
meal, send him to me in the library. Don't give him any hint
until he has finished eating."
"Is---is anything wrong?" asked Mrs. Ripley, turning around quickly.
"Just a few little questions I want to talk over with the boy,"
replied Mr. Ripley.
It was shortly after one o'clock when Fred stepped into the library.
This apartment was really in two rooms, separated by folding
doors. In the front room Mr. Ripley had his desk, and did his
writing. Most of his books were in the rear room. At the time
when Fred entered the folding doors were closed.
"You wished to see me, sir?" Fred asked, as he entered.
"Yes," said his father, pointing to a chair; "take a seat."
"I hope it isn't anything that will take much time," hinted Fred.
"you know, sir, I've got to be at the field early this afternoon.
I am to pitch in one of the biggest-----"
"I'll try to be very brief," replied the lawyer, quietly. "Fred,
as you know, whenever I find I have more money about me than I
care to carry, I put it in the private safe upstairs. Your mother
and I have a place where we hide the key to that old-fashioned
safe. But, do you know, I have been missing some money from that
safe of late? Of course, it would be sheer impudence in me to
suspect your mother."
"Of course it would," agreed Fred, with feigned heartiness. He
was fighting inwardly to banish the pallor that he knew was creeping
into his cheeks.
"Have you any theory, Fred, that would help to account for the
missing of these sums of money?" pursued the lawyer, one hand
toying with a pencil.
"Do you suspect any of the servants?" asked the boy, quickly.
"We have had all our servants in the family for years," replied
the lawyer, "and it would seem hard to suspect any of them."
"Then whom can you suspect, sir?"
"Fred, do you know, I have had a quiet little idea. I am well
acquainted with the scrapes that young fellows sometimes get into.
My experience as a lawyer has brought me much in contact with
such cases. Now, it is a peculiar thing that young fellows often
get into very bad scrapes indeed in pursuing their peculiar ideals
of manliness. Fred, have you been getting into any scrapes?
Have you found out where your mother and I hide the key to the
safe? Have you been helping yourself to the money on the sly?"
These last three questions Lawyer Ripley shot out with great suddenness,
though without raising his voice.
The effect upon young Ripley was electrical. He sprang to his
feet, his face dramatically expressive of a mingling of intense
astonishment and hurt pride.
"Dad," he gasped, "how can you ask me such questions?"
"Because I want the answer, and a truthful one," replied the lawyer,
coolly. "Will you oblige me with the answer? Take your time,
and think deliberately. If you have made any mistakes I want
you to be fair and honorable with me. Now, what do you say, sir?"
Fred's mind had been working like lightning. He had come to the
conclusion that it would be safe to bluff his denial through to
the end.
"Father," he uttered, earnestly, in a voice into which he tried
to throw intense earnestness and sincerity, "I give you my word
of honor, as a Ripley, that I know nothing more about the missing
money than you have just told me."
"You are sure of that, Fred?"
"Sure of it, sir? Why, I will take any oath that will satisfy-----"
"We don't want any perjury here," cut in the lawyer, crisply,
and touched a bell.
The folding doors behind them flew open with a bang. As Fred
started and whirled about he beheld a stranger advancing toward
them, and that stranger was escorting---Tip Scammon.
The stranger halted with his jailbird companion some five or six
feet away. The stranger did not appear greatly concerned. Tip,
however, looked utterly abashed, and unable to raise his gaze
from the floor.
"With this exhibit, young man," went on the lawyer, in a sorrowful
tone, "I don't suppose it is necessary to go much further with
the story. When I first began to miss small sums from the safe
I thought I might merely have made a mistake about the sums that
I had put away. Finally, I took to counting the money more carefully.
Then I puzzled for a while. At last, I sent for this man, who
is a detective. He has come and gone so quietly that probably
you have not noticed him. This man has had a hiding place from
which he could watch the safe. Early last evening you took the
key and opened the safe---robbed it! You took four five-dollar
bills, but they were marked. This man saw you meet Tip Scammon,
saw you pass the money over, and heard a conversation that has
filled me with amazement. So my son has been paying blackmail
money for months!"
Fred stood staggered, for a few moments. Then he wheeled fiercely
on Scammon.
"You scoundrel, you've been talking about me---telling lies about
me," young Ripley uttered hoarsely.
"I hain't told nothing about ye," retorted Tip stolidly. "But
this rich man's cop (detective) nabbed me the first thing this
morning. He took me up inter yer father's office, an' asked me
whether I'd let _him_ explore my clothes, or whether I'd rather
have a policeman called in. He 'splained that, if he had to call
the poor man's cop, I'd have to be arrested for fair. So I let
him go through my clothes. He found four five-spots on me, and
told me I'd better wait an' see yer father. So I'm here, an'
not particular a bit about having to go up to the penitentiary
for another stretch."
"It hasn't been necessary, Fred, to question Scammon very far,"
broke in the elder Ripley. "That'll do, now, Haight. Since Scammon
volunteered to give the money back, and said he didn't know it
had been stolen, you can turn him loose."
The detective and Tip had no more than gone when Lawyer Ripley,
his face flushed with shame, wheeled about on his son.
"So you see, Fred, what your word of honor the word of a Ripley---is
sometimes worth. You have been robbing me steadily. How much
you have taken I do not know as I have not always counted or recorded
money that I put in the safe."
Fred's face had now taken on a defiant look. He saw that his
father did not intend to be harsh, so the boy determined to brave
it out.
"Haven't you anything to say?" asked the lawyer, after a brief
silence.
"No," retorted Fred, sulkily. "Not after you've disgraced me
by putting a private detective on my track. It was shameful."
That brought the hot blood rushing to his father's face.
"Shameful, was it, you young reprobate? Shameful to you, when
you have been stealing for weeks, if not for months? It is you
who are dead to the sense of shame. Your life, I fear, young
man, cannot go on as it has been going. You are not fitted for
a home of wealth and refinement. You have had too much money,
too easy a time. I see that, now. Well, it shall all change!
You shall have a different kind of home."
Fred began to quake. He knew that his father, when in a mood
like this, was not to be trifled with.
"You---you don't mean jail?" gasped the boy with a yellow streak
in him.
"No; I don't; at least, not this time," retorted his father.
"But, let me see. You spoke of an engagement to do something
this afternoon. What was it?"
"_I was_ to have pitched in the game against Cedarville High School."
"Go on, then, and do it," replied his father.
"I---I can't pitch, now. My nerves are too-----"
"Go on and do what you're pledged to do!" thundered Lawyer Ripley,
in a tone which Fred knew was not to be disregarded. So the boy
started for the door.
"And while you are gone," his father shot after him, "I will think
out my plan for changing your life in such a way as to save whatever
good may be in you, and to knock a lot of foolish, idle ideas
out of your head!"
Fred's cheeks were ashen, his legs shaking under him as he left
the house.
"I've never seen the guv'nor so worked up before---at least, not
about me," thought the boy wretchedly. "Now, what does he mean
to do? I can't turn him a hair's breadth, now, from whatever
plan he may make. Why didn't I have more sense? Why didn't I
own up, and 'throw myself on the mercy of the court'?"
In his present mood the frightened boy knew he couldn't sit still
in a street car. So he walked all the way to the Athletic Field.
He was still shaking, still worried and pale when at length he
arrived there.
He walked into the dressing room. The rest of the nine and the
subs were already on hand, many of them dressed.
"You're late, Mr. Ripley," said Coach Luce, a look of annoyance
on his face.
Outside, the first of the fans on the seats were starting the
rumpus that goes under the name of enthusiasm.
"I---I know it. But---but---I---I'm sorry, Mr. Luce. I---I believe
I'm going to be ill. I---I know I can't pitch to-day."
So Coach Luce and Captain Purcell conferred briefly, and decided
that Dave Darrin should pitch to-day.
Darrin did pitch. He handled his tricky curves so well that puny
Cedarville was beaten by the contemptuous score of seventeen to
nothing.
Meanwhile, Fred Ripley was wandering about Gridley, in a state
of abject, hopeless cowardice.