Transcriber’s Note
Italic text displayed as: _italic_
[Illustration: _Will Was Safe on Second Base._
Frontispiece.]
TOMMY TIPTOP AND
HIS BASEBALL NINE
OR THE
BOYS OF RIVERDALE AND
THEIR GOOD TIMES
BY
RAYMOND STONE
AUTHOR OF “TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS FOOTBALL ELEVEN,”
“TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS WINTER SPORTS,” ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
NEW YORK
GRAHAM & MATLACK
PUBLISHERS
BOOKS FOR BOYS
BY RAYMOND STONE
THE TOMMY TIPTOP SERIES
Quarto. 128 pages. Cover in colors
Illustrated. Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid
TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS BASEBALL NINE; Or, The Boys of Riverdale and
Their Good Times
TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS FOOTBALL ELEVEN; Or, A Great Victory and How
It Was Won
TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS WINTER SPORTS; Or, Jolly Times on the Ice and
in Camp
(Other volumes in preparation)
GRAHAM & MATLACK, Publishers, New York
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY
GRAHAM & MATLACK
_Tommy Tiptop and His Baseball Nine_
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. TOMMY PLAYS BALL 7
II. TOMMY MOVES AWAY 16
III. TOMMY HAS AN ACCIDENT 26
IV. TOMMY STARTS HIS NINE 33
V. TOMMY MAKES A RUN 44
VI. TOMMY UPSETS A BULL 52
VII. TOMMY GOES SWIMMING 61
VIII. TOMMY EARNS SOME MONEY 68
IX. TOMMY’S NINE PLAYS 77
X. TOMMY GOES FISHING 84
XI. TOMMY IS IN DANGER 93
XII. TOMMY SAVES HIS ENEMY 103
XIII. TOMMY GIVES A SHOW 112
XIV. TOMMY MEETS OLD FRIENDS 117
XV. TOMMY TASTES VICTORY 120
Tommy Tiptop and His Baseball Nine
CHAPTER I
TOMMY PLAYS BALL
“I’m going to be up at the bat first!”
“You’re not, Tommy Tiptop! It’s my turn!”
“No, you were up first the last time we played. It’s Sammie Small’s
turn, if it isn’t mine,” and Tommy Tiptop, a sturdy, stout chap of
ten years, looked around at his companions, boys of about his own
age. They had gathered on a vacant lot after school to have a ball
game.
“That’s right!” cried Sammie Small. “I haven’t had a chance to hit
the ball this week. You fellows keep me chasing after the ones you
knock all the while.”
“Well, come on then, if we’re going to play!” exclaimed Tommy, who
always liked to be busy, if not at one thing then at another. And
when he found that it wasn’t his turn to bat he was willing to do
something else. “Come on!” he cried. “I’ll pitch and Sammie can bat.
We haven’t got enough for sides, and——”
“Yes, we have, too!” suddenly cried Horace Wright. “Here come Dan
Danforth and George Squire. That makes five on a side, and we’ll
choose——”
“Who are going to be the captains?” asked Dan, as he and George
hurried up, tossing their books in a pile on the green grass.
“I’ll be one captain!” exclaimed Tommy Tiptop.
“Oh, you always want to be a captain!” sniffed Horace.
“Well then, be it yourself,” agreed Tommy quickly. “Only let’s play.
What’s the good of standing here talking all day?”
“You’re talking as much as the rest of us,” put in Patsie Cook. “I’ll
tell you what we’ll do. We’ll race to the big tree, and the two first
fellows to get there shall be the captains.”
“That’s the way!” came in a chorus from the other lads, and instantly
they set off at top speed for a big maple tree that grew on the edge
of a brook which flowed through the meadow near the school—a meadow
where the small boys used to play ball. The larger lads had a regular
diamond, with canvas bags for bases and a real home plate that didn’t
get lost or kicked aside every time a cow walked through the field.
But Tommy and his friends were satisfied with their way of doing
things.
Away the ten young chaps raced, each eager to be one of the two first
at the tree, and so gain the honor of being one of the captains.
“Come on, Tommy!” called Dan Danforth, looking back to note the
progress of the other lad, for Dan was a year older than our hero and
liked him very much. “Come on, Tommy; don’t let Sammie beat you!”
“I—I won’t!” gasped Tommy, his sturdy legs going back and forth
rapidly. “I—I’m coming!”
“Go on. I’m going to win!” cried Sammie, as with a burst of speed he
got ahead of Tommy. Sammie and Dan were now the two foremost runners,
but the big tree was still some distance away, and Tommy had a
chance, for he was directly behind Sammie. The other boys were strung
out in a long line behind.
“Go on, Tommy! Go on!” yelled some of the boys in the rear. “We want
you for our captain!”
“I’m going to be the captain!” cried Sammie, and he looked back to
see how close Tommy was to him.
And then something happened. Sammie did not see a crooked stick that
was right in his path, and the next moment his toe caught under it.
He tripped and then went sprawling in the soft grass, rolling over
and over.
“Now’s your time, Tommy!” yelled George Squire, who had no chance of
winning. “Go on, Tommy! Leg it! Leg it!”
“That ain’t fair!” cried Sammie, trying to jump up and keep on with
the race.
“Sure it is!” exclaimed Dan. “He didn’t trip you. You did it
yourself. Go on and win, Tommy!”
“I’m going to!” came from Tommy, as he raced on faster than ever. He
was soon at the side of Dan, and a few seconds later both were at the
big tree, while Sammie, picking himself up, came on after them, but
too late to win the race.
“Tommy and Dan are the captains!” cried Patsie Cook. “Take me on your
side, Tommy!”
“I’m going to play on Dan’s side!” exclaimed Sammie, who felt just a
little bit angry at Tommy for having beaten him.
“All right,” answered Dan, good-naturedly, and he was satisfied, for
Sammie was a good player.
And so the choosing of the sides went on, and then the ten lads
hurried back to the middle of the field, where the grass was not so
long, and where you did not have to hunt half an hour to find the
ball after you had batted it.
“Let’s see who has first inning,” suggested Tommy. So he tossed the
bat to Dan, who caught it in one hand, about half way down. Then
Tommy put his hand on top of Dan’s, and Dan did the same thing to
Tommy’s pudgy fist, until the top of the bat was reached, when Tommy,
having the last hold, was entitled to choose first or last inning,
just as he liked.
“He hasn’t got his whole hand on that bat!” exclaimed Sammie, who
wanted his side to have the advantage.
“I have so!” cried Tommy.
“Hit the top of the bat with a brick and you can soon tell,” advised
George Squire.
This was done, and it was found that when the bat was tapped Tommy’s
hand was not touched, so Sammie’s objection did not amount to
anything.
“Take last inning, Tommy,” advised Patsie Cook, “then we’ll have a
better chance to win.”
“I will not!” cried our hero. “I’m going to get our raps in first,
and then if any of the fellows want to quit we won’t get left. We’ll
take first whacks.”
“All right,” agreed Dan. “Now, boys, we’ll see who wins. We’ll only
play two bases, and that will leave one fellow to run after the
balls. I’ll pitch, Sammie can catch, and Pete Johnson can race after
the balls.”
“I will not!” cried Pete. “I want to be on base.”
“Jake Carroll and Harold Mott are going to be on the bases,” declared
the captain.
“Then I won’t play!” came from Pete.
“Yes, you will, too. I’m captain, and what I say goes! You get out
and race after the balls, and maybe I’ll let you catch next inning.”
“Oh, will you? All right!” cried Pete, much pleased.
“Hey, somebody has taken our home plate!” cried Tommy, who, assuming
the right because he was captain, had come to bat first. “That nice
flat stone we had for home is gone.”
“I guess Billy Newhouse took it just to be mean!” exclaimed Dan. “I
saw him walking around here this morning, and he threw something in
the brook. Maybe it was our stone.”
“Oh, get another stone and play ball!” cried Sammie Small. “Do you
want us to stay here all night? I want a chance to bat!”
“All right,” agreed Tommy Tiptop. “Go ahead, I’m ready. This stone
will do,” and he picked up a small flat one and put it down in front
of him, tapping his bat on it to show that the game might begin.
“Pitch him a curve now, Dan! Pitch him a curve!” cried Sammie from
his position as catcher.
“Get out! He can’t curve ’em!” retorted Patsie.
“I can’t, eh? I’ll show you!” cried Dan, and he sent in a swift one.
It came straight for Tommy, who quickly turned his back, and received
the ball on his shoulder.
“Ouch! You did that on purpose, Dan Danforth!” yelled the small
batsman.
“I did not! You got right in the way of it. If you had stood still,
it would have curved right around you.”
“Oh, go on!”
“Take your base, anyhow, Tommy,” advised Patsie. “That’s the rule;
when you’re hit you take your base. I’ll bring you in,” and he
grabbed up the bat that Tommy cast aside as he started for the stone
which marked first base. Tommy rubbed his shoulder as he trotted
along.
“Did I hurt you much?” asked Dan, a little sorry for the way the ball
had slipped. “I didn’t mean to.”
“No, it doesn’t hurt much,” replied Tommy. “I don’t mind. Now knock a
good one, Patsie!”
Dan delivered another ball, and Patsie missed it, while the opposite
side yelled with delight.
“That was too high!” said the batter. “I want one there,” and he held
the stick out in front of him to show where he liked the ball to come.
“Here it is!” exclaimed Dan, and he pitched the ball again.
There was a crash of the bat, and the ball went sailing over the
grass.
“Run, Patsie! Run!” his friends advised him.
“Come on in, Tommy! Come on in!” were the other shouts, as Tommy, who
had started for second base, reached it and hesitated about going
“home.” Then he concluded it was safe, and he raced on. But Pete
Johnson had the ball now, and threw it in.
“Look out!” yelled George Squire. “He’ll get you, Tommy!”
Sammie Small stretched out his hands to gather in the ball and put
the runner out at the home plate.
“Slide, Tommy! Slide!” advised Patsie, who had reached second base
and was resting there.
Tommy Tiptop dropped into the dust and slid the rest of the way home,
getting there before the ball did. An instant later Sammie reached
over and touched him on the back, crying:
“Out!”
“I am not!” yelled Tommy, springing to his feet. “I’m safe! I’ll
leave it to Dan.”
“Yes, I guess he’s safe,” slowly admitted the captain of the other
team. “He’s safe enough, Sam. Go on; we’ll get the next one. Who’s
up?”
“George is,” declared Tommy, looking at his clothes, which were
covered with dust. “Gosh! Ma’ll give it to me when I get home,” he
added, as he tried to remove some of the dirt with wisps of grass.
“Take your handkerchief,” advised Ted Melton.
“Huh! And get that all dirt, too?” asked Tommy.
“You can wash that off in the brook.”
“That’s right, so I can,” and Tommy began a vigorous scrubbing of his
clothes with a handkerchief that was already pretty soiled.
“Say, what is this—a ball game or a laundry?” asked Sammie Small. “If
you fellows want to clean your clothes, stand back and let us play
ball. We want our innings out of this game!”
Ted and Tommy moved back out of the way, and the game went on.
“Two out all out, isn’t it?” asked Sammie, as George Squire knocked a
little fly that was caught by Dan.
“Yes, two out all out,” agreed Tommy. “Say, I wish we had enough for
a regular nine,” he went on. “I’d like to play in a match game.”
“You’re too small.”
“I am not. Some day I’m going to get up a regular nine, and have
uniforms, and bases, and a lot of balls, so if we lose one we don’t
have to stop the game. I wish——”
“You’re out!” interrupted Dan, calling to Frank Nixon, who was up at
the bat. “Three strikes and you’re out! Sam caught that last one.”
“That’s only two strikes!”
“It’s three!” repeated Dan.
“I’ll leave it to Tommy!” cried the other. “Was that three strikes,
Tommy?”
“I didn’t see,” our hero was forced to admit. “I was cleaning the
dust off my clothes. But we’ll give it. Come out in the field,
fellows,” he called to his side.
“Huh! That’s a hot way to play,” complained Frank. “It was only two
strikes!”
“Never mind, we got two runs,” consoled Patsie, who had come in when
Sammie missed a ball that the pitcher threw to him.
The game went on for some time, and the boys had much fun and several
disputes, but there was no real quarrel, and they easily forgot their
little differences.
When it came time for the fifth inning, which was the last they were
to play, Dan’s team got one run.
“Two more and we’ll beat!” he called to his friends.
“Don’t let ’em get anything!” advised Patsie.
“I won’t,” declared Tommy, who was pitching, and he kept his word,
for that one run was all Dan’s side got that inning, and Tommy’s team
won the game by seven runs to six.
“Let’s see if we can’t get more fellows here to-morrow, and have a
better game. I wish we had more bats. One isn’t enough. And we need
some more balls. This one is losing the cover,” said Tommy.
“Say, you’ll be a professional if you keep on,” exclaimed Dan,
laughing.
“I’d like to be,” answered Tommy, and then he and the other lads
picked up their books and walked off the field, talking of the fun
they had had.
“Oh, Tommy Tiptop!” exclaimed his sister Nellie, who met her brother
a little later as he was nearing home. “You’ll get it! Look at your
clothes!”
“Does the dirt show much?” asked Tommy, anxiously.
“Oh, it’s awful! Isn’t it, Grace?” and Nellie turned to a girl with
her.
“Couldn’t help it—had to slide home to keep from getting put out,”
murmured the young ball player. “Say, Nellie, do you s’pose ma’ll say
much?”
“No, I guess not; there’s too much going on at home,” answered Nellie.
“What’s going on?” asked Tommy quickly.
“It’s a secret, and I’m not going to tell you,” replied his sister.
“You wouldn’t let me come fishing with you the other day, and I’m not
going to tell.”
“Huh! Girls can’t fish. They’re afraid to put the worms on the hook,”
retorted Tommy. “But I’ll let you come next time I go, if you’ll tell
me the secret.”
“Nope. I haven’t told anybody but Grace, and I’m not going to.”
“Well, I don’t care; keep your old secret, then! I’ll get one of my
own, and, anyhow, ma’ll tell me when I get home,” said Tommy, and
broke into a run to find out what the news was that had caused his
sister to act so strangely.