STEALING THE SIGNALS.
"WHAT'S that you're talking about, Jasper?" demanded the pitcher,
whirling on the smallest of the scouts, whose father kept a tailoring
establishment in town and made the khaki suits worn by the Hickory Ridge
troop.
Jasper was a very timid fellow as a rule. His chums were often joking
him about the truth of the old saying, to the effect that it took nine
tailors to make a man, and that in consequence he had a heap to pick up.
But Jasper took these things in good part, because he knew his failings
even though trying the best he could to overcome them.
He was looking very much worried when Elmer turned on him. The hand that
had been gripping the sleeve of the pitcher's sweater fell to his side
again. Elmer noticed that the boy shot a quick glance toward a group of
fellows who, seeing practice was over for the day, seemed to be getting
their wheels out, as if intending to ride away.
"Why, I'm afraid it's all over but the shouting for Fairfield, Elmer!"
replied the small scout, in answer to the question Elmer fired straight
at him.
"You don't say?" retorted the other, laughing. "Well, my work must be
pretty bad, if even Jasper Merriweather calls it rotten. Whew! the boys
had better be trotting out their other pitcher, if I'm going to be sent
to the stable so easy."
"Oh, it ain't that, Elmer, sure it ain't, because don't I believe
you're the best pitcher in the whole world?" pleaded Jasper, looking
pained that his fidelity was being doubted in the least.
"Then whatever ails you, Jasper?" continued the other, realizing all of
a sudden that perhaps there _might_ be something worth noticing in this
strange conduct of the scout belonging to the Beaver Patrol.
"It's the signals, Elmer; the signals you and Mark have been practicing,
don't you see?" Jasper cried.
"Hello! so that's what troubles you, is it?" remarked Elmer, seriously.
"What's wrong with my signals, tell me, Jasper? I don't suppose you
could understand what we were doing most of the time; and even if you
did, a Hickory Ridge Scout would never think of betraying a secret
belonging to his troop. What about my signals?"
"Didn't you see him?" asked Jasper, eagerly.
"Well, now, I have seen a few dozen fellows this same morning, so I
don't know which one you mean," replied Elmer, shaking his head in the
negative.
"Lon Braddock!" almost whispered Jasper, looking after the group of
fellows just starting away on their wheels.
Elmer shook his head and smiled.
"You've got me this time, Jasper," he remarked; "because, you see, I
don't know that I ever heard that name before. Is he a new boy in
Hickory Ridge; and does he say my work is off color?"
"But--he don't live in Hickory Ridge at all, Elmer," expostulated the
other; "that's the trouble, you see."
"Oh, is it? Well, I don't see, and you'll sure have to explain what you
mean. If he doesn't live in our town, perhaps he's visiting here"; and
Elmer waited to see how Jasper took this.
"I think he came over to see Bob Harris, because they were together
pretty much all the time," Jasper went on, nodding his head with almost
every word in his eagerness to be emphatic. "You see, he is a Fairfield
fellow, Elmer!"
"What?" exclaimed the other, suddenly stiffening up, as a consciousness
of what tremendous possibilities there might be in this morning visit of
a Fairfield boy dawned upon his mind.
"And when I was over there a few days ago I heard Felix Wagner, the
second baseman of the Fairfield team, say that they had made a good find
in Lon Braddock, who promised to be an even better pitcher than Matt
himself."
Elmer was showing considerable eagerness now.
"Hold on there, Jasper," he said, in his quiet, but impressive, way; "go
slow, boy, and let me understand just what you mean. This fellow is
named Lon Braddock, you tell me; and he's a newcomer at Fairfield. That
accounts for the fact that none of our fellows recognized him as he sat
there watching me. And now, more than that, you say he's an extra
pitcher of the Fairfield Scout team. Have I got that all O. K., Jasper?"
"Yes, that's all to the good, Elmer," declared the smaller lad,
earnestly. "And honest, now, I believe that fellow came over here this
morning just on purpose to get some points about your pitching. He knows
what signal work does in a game, and he wants to knock you out. Why,
Elmer, I tell you, before three hours every fellow on the Fairfield team
will know that code of signals you and Mark have been practicing."
"Now you're not just guessing, are you, Jasper? Because I'm the last one
in the wide world to want to condemn a fellow on general principles. He
might have had a genuine errand over here, and just dropped around to
take my size."
"Perhaps he did, Elmer, perhaps he did; but was there any need for him
to put it all down in a little notebook he carried, and waiting till he
thought nobody was watching him?" demanded Jasper.
"Say, did you see him do that?" asked the other, sternly.
"At least three times, Elmer," came the quick reply. "And every time
after he had made some note he'd nod his head and grin like he was just
tickled to death over something."
Elmer whistled, and Mark, turning, saw him wave a hand. Apparently the
catcher must have said a hasty good-by to the pretty little miss in the
pony cart, for she whipped up her steed and Mark started toward his
chum.
"Oh, what can you do, Elmer?" exclaimed Jasper. "He's gone off now with
Bob Harris, and pretty soon it'll be too late."
"Too late for what, Jasper?" asked the pitcher.
"Why, I thought, you see, that perhaps a lot of us might get hold of him
and make him give up that notebook," explained Jasper.
"You don't say!" laughed Elmer. "What particular good would that do us,
tell me, when he's sure got everything down pat in his mind, just the
same? And we can't lock a Fairfield fellow up, even for stealing signs."
"Then he'll get away with it!" burst forth Jasper, with almost a wail.
"I reckon he will, my boy; but that isn't saying the knowledge he's
stolen will do him, or any of his mates, any good," chuckled Elmer.
"But how can you help it?" demanded the smaller boy, dubiously observing
the face of his comrade and wondering why he did not seem to detect any
uneasiness there.
"How? Oh, by switching the signals, I suppose. I'll put it up to Mark,
here. We can mix things around so that every sign stands for something
different than it did just now. And if the Fairfield fellows expect to
gain anything from thinking they're onto our signals, they're going to
be badly surprised. You'll see some bally old batting until they
understand that fact."
"What's all this row about?" asked Mark, coming up just then in time to
overhear Elmer's last few words, which, of course, mystified him
considerably.
"Why, we've just learned that all the time you and I were practicing our
signals a spy from Fairfield was watching us," said Elmer.
"Is that straight, or are you just kidding me?" demanded the catcher of
the nine.
"Which his name is Lon Braddock; and he's a newcomer, who can pitch as
well as Matt Tubbs himself. Of course, he must be a scout, or else he
couldn't play in this match game; but how a fellow can be a scout and do
such a ratty thing as that, beats me all hollow," Elmer went on.
"Tell me the whole story, that's a good fellow," remarked the other.
"Where did you get it--from Jasper, here?"
"Yes, I've been watching him," replied the smallest scout, nodding. "I
heard of him over in Fairfield, and he was pointed out to me as the man
Matt depended on to fool the Hickory Ridge nine in case he got knocked
out of the box himself. Besides, I saw him write something down in a
notebook as many as three or four times, and always chuckling to himself
to beat the band."
"Well, that's a nice surprise to have thrown at your head just after we
were saying we had those signs all down pat. This means another turn at
it"; and Mark threw his coat on the grass with an expression of
disgust.
"Hold on till that bunch of fellows gets out of sight, Mark, which will
be in a few minutes," remarked Elmer, who failed to look at the thing
with the same shade of annoyance that marked the countenance of his
friend; "but in the end this may turn out to be in our favor, you know."
"Perhaps it may," replied the catcher; "but it's a nuisance, all the
same. Now we've just got to go and unlearn all we fixed up."
"Easy job, Mark; just push 'em ahead one point and everything's altered.
Makes me laugh to think how those fellows will tumble into the trap.
Why, I can see one or two strike-outs every inning till they get wise.
And say, perhaps our new pitcher, Lon Braddock, will feel like kicking
himself because he was such a fool as to believe all he saw."
"Now they're around the bend of the road, Elmer, with that strange boy
alongside Bob Harris, plying him with questions by the dozen, I reckon.
Luckily, Bob doesn't know very much about our nine, for his application
to be a scout was turned down, you remember, Elmer."
"So it was," mused the pitcher; "which makes me suspect that perhaps Bob
knew why the man from Fairfield was over here. It's pretty hard to find
that there are traitors in your own camp. But let them keep it up; we're
going to take their number to-day, as sure as you're born, Mark. I just
feel it in my bones. I only hope Matt Tubbs didn't know about this
trick. I'd hate to think he had a hand in it; and after seeing what a
change has come over the former bully of Fairfield and Cramertown I
won't believe it, either."
So they once more started in, passing the ball. A few of the small boys
had remained to continue their scrub ball game. They wondered what the
battery of the regular nine could be doing and stopped playing to watch;
but as Jasper had been particularly cautioned not to breathe a word of
the valuable discovery he had made, they were none the wiser for their
survey and soon went back to their happy-go-lucky game.
It did not take the two boys long to get familiar with the new version
of the sign code. Even Mark allowed that he had it down just as pat as
the older style.
"And just as you said, Elmer," he admitted, "if those fellows over at
Fairfield believe they're onto our signs, they're going to make a heap
of trouble for themselves, believe me. I can see a fellow whacking away
at a wide bender that he expects is going to be a swift one over the
rubber. The only trouble will be for me to keep a straight face through
the circus."
"Oh, it won't last long," replied the other. "When a few of them have
made a show of themselves they'll talk it over and conclude the spy got
the signals mixed. But by that time the mischief may have been done.
Remember, Mark, we owe a lot to little wide-awake Jasper, here. He's
always on the watch for chances to build up the credit of Hickory Ridge
troop."
Each of them gravely shook hands with Jasper, who turned very rosy in
the face at hearing himself spoken of in terms of praise, for there had
been times when the boy had begun to despair of ever accomplishing
anything worth while in the organization, his size seeming to be so much
of a handicap against him.
But now hope was taking on new life within him, for he had found that
size really counts for little in many of the things a scout may do to
bring credit on himself and honor to his troop.
It was nearly noon when Elmer and Mark turned their faces homeward.
Earlier in the day the former had walked over to Colonel Hitchins's to
get his wheel and ride it home, after putting a plug in the puncture.
He was considerably surprised, and pleased as well, to see Phil Lally
working in the garden as he passed.
The man looked up and waved a hand cheerily, and it gave Elmer a queer
little sensation, altogether pleasant, in the region of his boyish heart
to realize that that young fellow was laboring honorably there that
bright morning, instead of languishing in jail with a forlorn outlook
before him, thanks to the kind heart and generous impulse of the man who
owned the estate. And it also pleased Elmer to feel that he, too, had
had something of a share in what seemed like the reformation of Phil
Lally.
And when noon came around the skies still smiled, guiltless of clouds;
while a delightful breeze gave promise of a grand afternoon for the
great game.