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The Hickory Ridge Boy Scouts
A SERIES OF BOOKS FOR BOYS
Which, in addition to the interesting boy scout stem
by CAPTAIN ALAN DOUGLAS, Scoutmaster, contain articles
on nature lore, native animals and a fund of other
information pertaining to out-of-door life, that will
appeal to the boy's love of the open.
I. The Campfires of the Wolf Patrol
Their first camping experience affords the scouts
splendid opportunities to use their recently acquired
knowledge in a practical way. Elmer Chenowith, a lad
from the northwest woods, astonishes everyone by his
familiarity with camp life. A clean, wholesome story
every boy should read.
II. Woodcraft; or, How a Patrol Leader Made Good
This tale presents many stirring situations in which
some of the boys are called upon to exercise all their
ingenuity and unselfishness. A story filled with
healthful excitement.
III. Pathfinder; or, The Musing Tenderfoot
Some mysteries are cleared up in a most unexpected
way, greatly to the credit of our young friends. A
variety of incidents follow fast, one after the other.
IV. Fast Nine; or, a Challenge From Fairfield
They show the same team-work here as when in camp. The
description of the final game with the team of a rival
town, and the outcome thereof, form a stirring
narrative. One of the best baseball stories of recent
years.
V. Great Hike; or, The Pride of The Khaki Troop
After weeks of preparation the scouts start out on
their greatest undertaking. Their march takes them far
from home, and the good-natured rivalry of the
different patrols furnishes many interesting and
amusing situations.
VI. Endurance Test; or, How Clear Grit Won the Day
Few stories "get" us more than illustrations of pluck
in the face of apparent failure. Our heroes show the
stuff they are made of and surprise their most ardent
admirers. One of the best stories Captain Douglas has
written.
Boy Scout Nature Lore to be Found in The Hickory Ridge Boy Scout Series
Wild Animals of the United States--Tracking--in Number I.
Trees and Wild Flowers of the United States in Number II.
Reptiles of the United States in Number III.
Fishes of the United States in Number IV.
Insects of the United States in Number V.
Birds of the United States in Number VI.
_Cloth Binding_ _Cover Illustrations in Four Colors_
_40c. Post Volume_
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
147 FOURTH AVENUE (near 14th St) NEW YORK
FAST NINE
OR
A CHALLENGE FROM FAIRFIELD
COMPLETE ROSTER, WHEN THE PATROLS WERE FILLED, OF
THE HICKORY RIDGE TROOP OF BOY SCOUTS
MR. RODERIC GARRABRANT, SCOUT MASTER
THE WOLF PATROL
ELMER CHENOWITH, Patrol Leader, and also Assistant Scout Master
MARK CUMMINGS
TED (THEODORE) BURGOYNE
TOBY (TOBIAS) ELLSWORTH JONES
"LIL ARTHA" (ARTHUR) STANSBURY
CHATZ (CHARLES) MAXFIELD
PHIL (PHILIP) DALE
GEORGE BOBBINS
THE BEAVER PATROL
MATTY (MATTHEW) EGGLESTON, Patrol Leader
"RED" (OSCAR) HUGGINS
TY (TYRUS) COLLINS
JASPER MERRIWEATHER
TOM CROPSEY
LARRY (LAWRENCE) BILLINGS
HEN (HENRY) CONDIT
LANDY (PHILANDER) SMITH
THE EAGLE PATROL
JACK ARMITAGE, Patrol Leader
NAT (NATHAN) SCOTT
(OTHERS TO BE ENLISTED UNTIL THIS PATROL HAS REACHED ITS LEGITIMATE
NUMBER)
[Illustration: It was now up to Matt Tubbs.]
THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS
FAST NINE
OR
A CHALLENGE FROM FAIRFIELD
BY
CAPTAIN ALAN DOUGLAS
SCOUT MASTER
[Illustration]
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1928, BY
THE NEW YORK BOOK COMPANY
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I.--ON THE WAY HOME FROM THE FISHING HOLE 17
II.--A STARTLING ACCUSATION 25
III.--WHEN THE CHALLENGE CAME 33
IV.--THE PRACTICE GAME WITH THE SCRUB TEAM 41
V.--BETWEEN EARTH AND SKY 49
VI.--A QUESTION OF A SCOUT'S DUTY 57
VII.--MORE WORK ON THE DIAMOND 65
VIII.--THE PUNCTURED TIRE 73
IX.--FAITHFUL TO HIS FRIEND 81
X.--GIVING HIM ANOTHER CHANCE 89
XI.--READY FOR THE BATTLE OF THE BATS 97
XII.--STEALING THE SIGNALS 105
XIII.--READY FOR THE GREAT GAME 113
XIV.--HOW THE FIGHT WENT ON 121
XV.--LIL ARTHA PLANTS HIS GARDEN IN DEEP CENTER 129
XVI.--THE MYSTERY SOLVED 137
FAST NINE
OR
A CHALLENGE FROM FAIRFIELD
_THE HICKORY RIDGE BOY SCOUTS_
FAST NINE; OR, A CHALLENGE FROM FAIRFIELD.
CHAPTER I.
ON THE WAY HOME FROM THE FISHING HOLE.
A PARTY of five boys, ranging in age around fifteen or sixteen, trudged
rather wearily along the bank of a small stream known as the Sunflower
River. Some miles beyond this point it merged its clear waters with
those of the broader Sweetwater, which river has figured before now in
these stories of the Hickory Ridge boys.
As they carried several strings of pretty good-looking fish, the chances
were the straggling group must have been over at the larger stream
trying their luck. And as black bass have a failing for beginning to
bite just when fellows ought to be starting for home this would account
for evening finding them still some distance from Hickory Ridge and a
jolly supper.
"Another long mile, and then we'll be there, fellows," sighed the
stoutest one of the bunch, who was panting every little while, because
of the warm pace set by his more agile chums.
"Hey, just listen to Landy puff, will you, boys!" laughed Chatz
Maxfield, whose accent betrayed his Southern birth.
"He keeps getting fatter every day, I do believe," joked Mark Cummings,
a clean-cut young chap with a clear eye and resolute bearing.
"Now, that ain't exactly fair, Mark," complained the object of this
mirth, in a reproachful tone, "and you know it. Don't I take exercise
every day just to reduce my flesh? Why, I'm making a regular martyr of
myself, my mom says, ever since I joined the Boy Scouts, so that I can
keep my own with the rest of you. She says if I keep it up I'll soon be
skin and bones, that's what!"
A shout arose from the entire bunch at this. The idea of that fat boy
ever reaching a point where such a term could be applied to him was
simply ridiculous.
"What time is it, Chatz; since you seem to be the only one in the lot
who had the good sense and also the decency to fetch a watch along?"
The Southern boy readily pulled out a little nickel timepiece, and
consulted it, but the dusk was coming fast, so that he had to bend low
in order to make sure of the right figures.
"Half past seven, fellows," he announced.
"Wow, won't my folks just be worried about me, though!" exclaimed a very
tall boy, whose build would indicate that he was something of a
sprinter; and whose name being Arthur Stansbury, his mates, after the
usual perversity of boys in general, had promptly nicknamed him "Lil
Artha."
"I don't think they'll be alarmed, because they know a bad penny is sure
to turn up," laughed Mark, immediately dodging a friendly blow from the
lengthy arm of his comrade.
"Hold on, I've lost my cap," declared the one who had dodged, but the
others made no move toward stopping; supper was a mile away, and they
felt hungry enough to eat a houseful.
Three minutes later Mark came running after them, still bareheaded.
"Hello!" exclaimed the lad who had asked Chatz for the time, and who
seemed to bear the earmarks of a leader among them, as Elmer Chenowith
really was, being at the head of the Wolf Patrol, and accredited as an
assistant scout master in the Hickory Ridge Boy Scout Troop--"How about
this, Mark; where's your cap?"
"Couldn't find it, that's all," laughed the other, good naturedly;
"perhaps it went into the river. Anyhow, it's getting that dark I
couldn't see the thing, and as you fellows were in such a raging hurry I
just gave it up."
"Oh, say, that's too bad," declared Chatz; "I'll turn back with you,
Mark, if you give the word."
"Oh, shucks! it isn't worth it, Chatz, though I'm just as much obliged
to you as if we went. It's an old cap, anyhow, and even if it went
sailing down the Sunflower it wouldn't matter much. I've got another
besides my campaign hat. And if it doesn't rain in the morning I may
take a run over here on my wheel. Move along, fellows; I can just
imagine I smell that bully good supper that's being kept for me at our
house."
"Yum, yum, that strikes me," exclaimed Landy, whose one weakness was a
love for eating, despite his declaration to the effect that he was daily
cutting down his rations in order to reduce his girth. "And I happen to
know they're having fried eggplant to-night. If there's one thing I just
like above every other dish it's fried eggplant, and plenty of it. Aw!"
and he sighed to think that a whole mile still lay between himself and
that beloved delicacy.
"All I can say is, that it's mighty lucky we don't have a meeting
to-night, that's what," remarked Chatz; "because we'd never be able to
get there after this long hike. But, honest, fellows, I think it paid.
I never had more fun pulling out black bass than to-day. And whew, how
they do fight up here! Why, down in the warmer waters of my state, South
Carolina, we have the big-mouth bass, which the natives call green
trout, and he comes in as logy as an old piece of tree stump, after
about one little tussle."
"But I reckon there are heaps of game fighters up in that old pond at
Munsey's mill," remarked Lil Artha.
"There may be, if those fish pirates left any," declared Mark. "You know
the game and fish warden found and destroyed a lot of nets, even if he
didn't get the Italian poachers. But that's too far away from home,
anyway; and I think we'll have to leave the bass that live in that pond
to the ghost of the haunted mill."
A general laugh followed this declaration. The scouts had recently been
on a long tramp to the mill in question, an abandoned place which was
shunned by all the country people for certain causes. But while they had
met with sundry adventures of considerable importance while there, none
of them could claim to have run across the ghost said to be in charge of
the old rookery.
This had been a subject of great disappointment to Chatz Maxfield in
particular, for he secretly cherished more or less of a belief in
ghosts, having probably been inoculated with the weakness as a very
small boy, when he had for playmates ignorant and superstitious blacks,
on the South Carolina rice plantation that had been his home until
recently.
"Hey! what did Matt Tubbs have to say to you, Elmer?" suddenly asked Lil
Artha. "I saw him talking like a Dutch uncle when I was waiting for you
to come along this noon."
The boy in question was known as a bully. He lived in the neighboring
town of Fairfield, which adjoined Cramertown, so that the two might be
reckoned one continuous settlement. And strangely enough, Matt's house
was said to be half in one place and half in the other.
Matt Tubbs had given the boys of Hickory Ridge more or less trouble in
years past. He was a natural leader, and rather a tough character as
well, ruling the fellows in Fairfield and Cramertown with a rod of iron.
Frequently the Hickory Ridge boys had been influenced to engage in
friendly rivalry with those of the neighboring place, but it happened
that as a rule these contests broke up in a row, and more than one
pitched battle had resulted.
For more than a year, now, Elmer and his chums had positively refused to
have anything to do with the Fairfield boys. They had even turned down
several invitations to bridge the chasm and start on a new deal, because
they believed that so long as Matt Tubbs was in control, just so long
would rough-house tactics be brought into play whenever the game went
against the Fairfield players.
But lately Matt Tubbs had seen a new light. The organizing of the
Hickory Ridge Troop of Boy Scouts had inspired him with a desire to
follow suit. But while he could find plenty of material in the two
towns, the great difficulty seemed to be in subscribing to the twelve
cardinal principles which every candidate has to profess before he can
become even a tenderfoot scout.
Matt had in secret hovered around the meeting places of the Hickory
Ridge fellows. In this way he had heard things that simply amazed him,
and set him to thinking deeply. Then he had chanced to have an
experience with Elmer and his followers at a time when the scouts were
called on to find a little boy who had been kidnapped by his
step-father, an ignorant and drink-crazed rascal.
Matt Tubbs had been fascinated by the many things he had seen Elmer do
in the line of woodcraft, and then and there he had declared that he was
going to subscribe to the entire list of regulations as set forth in the
manual of the scouts.
And Elmer had given him his hand at the time, promising to do all he
could to assist him get his troop started.
The leader of the Wolf Patrol laughed softly when Lil Artha put this
question at him so directly.
"I really meant to tell you all about it," he said, "but somehow it just
seemed to slip my mind, we've been having such a jolly afternoon. Fact
is, Matt being over in the Ridge on some business for his father, jumped
off his wheel at seeing me, because he had some important news."
"Has he got his troop organized, then?" asked Lil Artha.
"That's just what he has; seventeen fellows have already signed the
roll, with a promise of several more. That makes two complete patrols,
and then some. Matt says they're wild over it in his town. The people
are going to let them have a room in the old Baptist church, and
everybody promises to help along. I reckon the good people of Fairfield
understand that the coming of the Boy Scouts will mean a moral awakening
in their place."
"And they need it, all right," declared Chatz, positively. "Why, suh,
I'm told that during the last seven yeahs Fairfield, that used to be a
model town, has become the toughest place in this part of the state. And
the way Matt Tubbs led his gang has been the main cause. It was a rule
or ruin policy. If they couldn't win a baseball game squarely they'd
start a little riot, and have the umpire give it to 'em, nine to
nothing."
"Well, I rather think that's all in the past," said Elmer. "If Matt does
half he declares he means to do, it's going to be the biggest thing
that ever happened for the boys of Fairfield and Cramertown. And
something more, fellows. I just rather guess we'd better be brushing up
all we know of the great American national game of baseball. For Matt
says he and his team are going to challenge the Hickory Ridge scouts to
a big game."
"Hear, hear!" shouted Lil Artha, executing a regular hoedown to prove
how joyful the news made him. "Why, fellows, d'ye know I'm just wild to
get in the game again against a club that really counts. All we've done
this summer has been to mow down the little chaps around the Ridge, and
it was too easy. Matt will put a team in the field worth beating, and we
all know what a player he is himself when he wants to do the right
thing. So I say bully, bully all around!"
"Do you think his turning over a new leaf will hold good," asked Chatz;
"or is he apt to drop back into his old ways if we happen to get a good
lead, and bully the umpire into giving his side all the chances?"
"Well, of course I couldn't say for sure," replied Elmer, "but Matt
seems dead set on cutting a straight swathe from now on, and there's the
best chance of his doing it that ever happened, because he has simply
got to choose between doing the square thing to others or getting out of
the scout movement. No crooked work will go when a fellow has faithfully
promised to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly,
courteous, kind, obedient to his superiors, cheerful, thrifty, brave,
clean and reverent."
"You're right, it won't, Elmer," assented Mark, positively. "And yet if
Matt has changed right-about face, so that he can live up to that
agreement I'm ready to believe the world is coming to an end."
"Me, too!" echoed Lil Artha, who had had several personal conflicts
with the bully of Fairfield, and distrusted him exceedingly.
"Just wait and see," said Elmer; and the subject was dropped as they
hurried on toward the lights of Hickory Ridge that began to appear near
by.