A STRANGE ATTACK
Puzzled as to what the strange action of his team-mate might portend,
Frank Racer looked over the other lads to select one to fill Billy's
place.
"Here, Jim," he called, "play ball here; will you?"
"Sure," replied the invited one, "glad to. What's the matter with
Chase; cold feet?"
"Something like that, I guess. Go on, play ball. Line out a pretty one!"
"Say, you can't do that," objected Andy, as he saw his brother making a
change in his batting order.
"Can't do what?"
"Make a shift like that at this time."
"Sure I can," insisted Frank. "We're not playing league rules, or even
interscholastic ones. Don't make such a fuss. This is only for fun. Go
on, Jim, swat it!"
There was a dispute, but it ended in favor of Frank, the majority
deciding that, under the circumstances, it was permissible. As the
game went on Frank looked across the campus. He saw the mysterious man
strolling along, without any special object as far as he could see,
while Billy Chase hurried in the direction of the dormitory.
"He's hustling just as if somebody was after him," mused Frank. "What
could he have forgotten that wouldn't keep until after the game? I
guess that was only an excuse. I'm going to keep on the lookout. That
fellow with the limp will be easy to remember. I wonder if his beard is
false? But no, it looked too real for that. Well, maybe, after all, it
isn't any of my affair, but I'm going to get at the bottom of it if I
can."
Whack! That was the bat of Jim finding the ball, and a moment later
Frank, in watching the flight of the horsehide, forgot all about the
mystery that seemed to enshroud Billy Chase.
"That's the stuff!"
"Go it, old man!"
"A three-bagger!"
"Make it a home run!"
"Come on! Come on, old man!" This last was yelled by Frank, who was
hopping up and down at home plate, thus trying to encourage Jim Bland
to greater speed as he rounded the bases following his fine hit. The
other cries of delight and encouragement came from the members of
Frank's nine.
Jim reached third just as the center fielder, who had to run back some
distance to get the ball, threw it in.
"Come on home! Come on home!" cried John North, who was playing coach
at third.
"No, hold it!" ordered Frank, and it was well that Jim did, for the
ball was accurately thrown and he would have been caught at home, if
not nipped on the last bag, had he tried to leave it.
But it was a good hit, and served to encourage Frank's team. To such
advantage did they play that they won the game and the elder Racer lad
had the satisfaction of crowing over his brother.
"Well, you wouldn't have won if you hadn't slipped in a cracker-jack
batter on me," complained Andy.
"Get out! I would so. Why, Jim isn't any better than Billy Chase."
"That shows how much you know about it. Jim is one of the best in the
school, and it's a pity he wasn't on the main team last year. He will
be this season. Billy is a good player, but he can't bat. What made him
chase off that way?"
"I don't know," answered Frank. "And did you see that lame man, with
the black beard?"
"I sure did. He looked like the villain in some Western drama. Did he
speak to Billy?"
"No, but Billy seemed to move off as soon as he laid eyes on the
fellow."
The two brothers conversed as they walked off the diamond, speculating
as to what the mystery might be concerning the Freshman. Following the
game the players went to the gymnasium for a shower bath. Neither Billy
Chase nor the lame man were in sight when Frank and Andy came out.
The Racer boys gave an impromptu spread in their room that night,
and there was a gathering of happy lads who talked baseball from all
standpoints. It was agreed that the chances for Riverview Hall to win
the pennant that season were very good.
"But we've got to have lots of practice," insisted Andy. "We ought to
have the regular team about picked by this time."
"There's a meeting next week," said Jack Sanderson. "I guess things
will hum from then on."
"Good!" exclaimed Andy. "I say, let's do something. It's early yet.
Let's go out and haze a couple of Freshmen."
"Oh, cut that out!" advised Frank. "Haven't we hazed about all of 'em?"
"There are some new fellows that came in the other day," went on the
younger Racer lad. "They haven't had their share of the medicine yet."
"I'm with you," agreed Jack, who was always ready for mischief.
"I'll take a chance," said John North. "It'll be fun."
"Better not," advised Frank. "You may get caught."
"Oh, come on, you old croaker," exclaimed his brother, but Frank could
not be persuaded, and remained behind. Some of the others, following
the lead of the impetuous Andy, went looking for luckless Freshmen on
whom to play their tricks.
They found some, and for a time the excitement waxed high, but, as it
happened, one of the professors, returning from a lecture in town,
caught the group of students. He realized what was going on, and
ordered the crowd back to their rooms, with instructions to report to
the proctor in the morning. To insure compliance with this he took the
names of all the lads.
"Well, what did I tell you?" asked Frank, when his brother came in a
little later, looking quite woebegone.
"Oh, dry up!" commanded Andy, in no gentle voice. "Don't be an 'I told
you so!'"
"Well, you would go out," retorted Frank.
"Yes, and we had a good time, even if we did get caught," said Andy.
"Anyhow, it's too early in the term for the proc. to lay it on very
heavy. Besides, we had to haze those Freshmen, and we did it good and
proper."
Andy was right in guessing that the proctor would not make the
punishment heavy. A light sentence was passed on all the culprits save
the first-year students, and, by virtue of their having been taken from
their quarters against their wills, they were let off with a warning to
be more watchful in the future.
Thus the first weeks of the new term passed. Hazing became a thing of
the past, and the cap-rush, which was won by the Freshmen, entitling
them to wear the insignia of the school on their head-gear, ended
hostilities between the class bodies for the time being.
Frank's endeavor to fathom what seemed to be a mystery concerning Billy
Chase and the bearded lame man amounted to nothing. The man seemed to
have disappeared, and as Billy did not speak of him, Frank forbore to
ask any questions.
Billy became quite friendly with the Racer boys and their chums. He was
a fine chap, fond of all sports, and modest in his accomplishments.
He had the broad, free spirit of the boundless West, and easily made
friends.
"But he doesn't get over that peculiarity I noticed first," remarked
Jack Sanderson. "He always seems to fear he is going to be attacked
from behind."
"Maybe it's nervousness," suggested Andy.
"Nonsense! He hasn't an excess nerve in his make-up. It's something
else, I tell you," insisted Jack. "Why, only to-day he----"
But Jack was interrupted by a knock on the door of Frank and Andy's
room, and the opening of the portal disclosed "Old" Wallace, the coach,
who came in to talk baseball. He had been away for some time, and had
recently returned. Then, for a time, Billy Chase and his affairs were
forgotten.
The regular baseball nine was being whipped into shape, and the time
for the first match game of the season was approaching. The weather
had come off warm quite suddenly, and the diamond was in fine shape.
Practice was going well, and the Racer boys and their chums felt that
they had a winning team.
It was one or two nights before the game with Waterside Hall, the
ancient enemy of Riverview, that Frank and Andy obtained permission
to go into town. Frank wanted to get a new glove, and Andy had some
shopping to do concerning baseball matters.
"Well, let's take in a 'shiftin' picture show,' as the Scotchman called
the movies," suggested Andy, when their errands were done.
"Will we have time?" asked Frank, always more or less cautious.
"Of course we will."
So they went to the moving picture entertainment. As they entered
several persons were coming out, having seen the first "round" of
films, and, at the sight of one of the audience, Frank started.
"What's the matter?" asked Andy, who was walking next to him. "See a
ghost?"
"No, but I saw that lame man, who was hanging around the ball field the
other day--the fellow Billy Chase seemed so afraid of."
"Well, what of it? He isn't looking for us, and I guess he won't find
Billy. I saw him boning away for further orders as we came out. Here
are a couple of good seats. They're going to have illustrated songs,
too. There's that pretty girl who was in here the other night."
"Oh, you and your girls!" exclaimed Frank.
"She isn't mine--wish she was," rejoined Andy. "She and the fellow who
bangs the piano are chummy. No chance for me. Oh, for cats' sake! We've
struck one of those western Indian dramas, acted over in Hoboken."
But if the first picture was not to the liking of the Racer boys, the
other films were, and they remained for the whole show. On their way
toward school from the trolley they took a short cut through a rather
dark lane, for, though they did not much mind getting in after the hour
prescribed by the proctor, still they did not want to take too many
chances.
As Frank and Andy passed under one of the few lights that helped
dispel the gloom of the seldom-used thoroughfare, they saw someone
approaching. It was someone in a hurry, too, judging by the footsteps.
A moment later a man fairly rushed by the boys, and, at the sight of
him as he disappeared in the darkness behind them, Frank uttered a cry.
"That fellow!" he exclaimed. "He's the lame man with the black
beard--the one we saw in the show earlier to-night, and the one who was
at the ball practice."
"Well, what of it?" asked Andy. "You're getting him on the brain, I
guess."
"Hark!" exclaimed the younger lad.
They came to a halt. Then, above the rustle of the wind through the
tree branches, both heard a faint moaning sound.
"Someone's hurt!" exclaimed Frank.
"Over here!" cried Andy. "I can see something! Over here, Frank!"
Andy sprang to the left, and struck a match. The glow disclosed a
huddled-up body lying in the ditch of the lane. Andy bent over it.
"It's a young fellow," he reported to Frank. "And he's been hit on the
head. He's bleeding."
"By Jove!" cried Frank, as he ran up. "It's Billy Chase!"