TOMMY GOES SWIMMING
“Well, youngster, you are a smart one! To think you upset the bull
that way!” exclaimed the man who had called to Tommy, and who now
stood near him on the other side of the fence under which Tommy had
crawled to get out of the way of the angry animal.
The little girl with the red dress was also safe, and she stood
beside the man, crying a little and trembling, for she had been very
much frightened.
Tommy himself did not quite know what had happened, but he remembered
that he had thrown the rail at the bull, and that the animal had
fallen down, and then the lad had run as fast as he could for the
fence.
“Not hurt a bit, are you?” asked the man, anxiously.
The bull was bellowing away and pawing the ground near the fence.
“No,” answered Tommy, “not a bit. Is the bull hurt?”
“It would serve him good and right if he was,” replied the man. “He’s
been awful ugly lately, and I don’t know what to do with him. He
jumps nearly all the fences. I never thought he would get in that
field, though. What were you doing there?” he asked, turning to the
little girl, who had stopped crying.
“I took a short cut across lots to get home,” she answered, “and I
didn’t notice the bull until he was close to me. Then I—I couldn’t
seem to run, until this boy got in front of me.”
“Yes, it was a brave thing to do,” said the man, as he looked at
Tommy. “How did you think to throw that rail between his legs and
trip him up?” he asked.
“I didn’t think,” replied Tommy. “It just—just happened!”
“And it’s a good thing it did,” went on the man. He looked toward the
bull, who was pawing up the dirt, stamping his feet and shaking his
big head with the ugly-looking horns on, while, from time to time, he
gave forth a low bellow. “I’ll send a couple of hired men and have
him chained up in the stable. I can’t allow him in the fields any
more,” he added.
“Oh, is he your bull?” asked Tommy in surprise.
“Yes,” answered the man.
“Then you must be Mr. Bashford,” spoke the boy. “Is this your lot?
I’m glad I didn’t hurt the bull.”
“It would not do him any harm to be hurt some,” declared the man.
“He’s too ugly. I guess I’ll sell him. Yes, I’m Mr. Bashford.”
“Then you’re just the man I want to see!” exclaimed Tommy. “We boys
would like to have this lot for a ball field. Would you let us take
it—or—or—hire it to us?” he added, though he did not know where the
money was to come from to pay for it.
“Have my lot for a ball field!” exclaimed Mr. Bashford, thoughtfully.
“Why, we’ve got one ball team in town now. Is this a new one?”
“Yes,” replied Tommy, “it’s _my_ team. I’m going to have a nine of
boys about my size, only we can’t get any place to play. I came down
to-day to look at this lot, and then I heard this little girl scream,
and——”
“Oh, I’m _so_ glad you made that bull turn a somersault!” exclaimed
the girl. “He was mean to me!”
“Yes, you want to be careful how you cross the lots, Sallie,” said
Mr. Bashford. “Run along home now.”
“All right,” she answered. “My name is Sallie Grubb,” she went on to
Tommy.
“Are you Joie Grubb’s sister?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “and I know who you are. Joie told me about you.
You’re the new boy who’s going to have a ball nine.”
“I am, if we can get a lot to play in,” replied our hero, looking at
the farmer and smiling.
“Humph!” exclaimed Mr. Bashford. “I guess after what you did to-day
I’ll have to let you use the lot. What’s your name?”
Tommy told him, adding something about how he had just moved to town,
and how he wanted to start a ball nine.
“Well, you can use the lot,” said Mr. Bashford finally, “and I guess
I’ll have to lock my bull up. Yes, bellow away, old fellow!” he
called to the animal. “You won’t get a chance to chase little girls
much longer. Tell the boys they can play here all summer,” went on
the farmer. “In the fall I may plow up this field, but I won’t do
anything with it right away.”
“How much rent?” asked Tommy, anxiously.
“Rent? Not a cent!” said Mr. Bashford, with a laugh. “I’ll be glad to
see another nine in town. I like baseball. You can play here free.”
Tommy was delighted to hear this, for if they did not have to pay
anything for the use of the lot there would be so much more money to
build a back-stop and get balls, bats and gloves.
“Maybe we can even get uniforms!” thought the boy eagerly, as he
looked at the big lot where he intended to lay out a diamond. “If we
could, we’d be a regular nine, and could play other teams.”
“Well, I’m going to get some of my men and have that bull locked up,”
went on Mr. Bashford. “You children had better run along home now, or
he may get loose again. He’s very bad at jumping fences.”
“Are you afraid to go home?” asked Tommy of Sallie Grubb.
“Not—not very much,” she replied, hesitatingly.
“I’ll go with you, anyhow,” he volunteered, “though there isn’t any
more danger.”
“Not if you don’t cross the fields,” put in Mr. Bashford. “Well, you
can use the lot any time you want to,” and Tommy, after thanking him,
walked away with Sallie, while the bull continued to paw the earth
and bellow in anger.
Sallie, when she reached home, gave such an account of the way that
Tommy had made the bull turn head over heels that Mrs. Grubb got the
idea that Tommy was quite a remarkable boy, indeed, whereas the truth
was that he was just like other boys. But when he saw a thing needed
doing he did it, and that as soon as he could.
“I do hope you help my Joie to get thinner,” said Mrs. Grubb,
when she had heard about the proposed ball nine. “He is too fat,
altogether.”
“If he plays ball enough he’ll get thin,” said Tommy, with a smile.
The boys were delighted when they heard of Tommy’s success in getting
permission to use the lot, and at once baseball activity began in
earnest.
Several of the boys whom Teddy, Billie and Tommy’s other new friends
had mentioned agreed to join, and, though there was no regular team
as yet, it looked as if there would be one in a short time.
Tommy planned to hold a meeting and see if he could not raise some
money, so they could buy more bats, balls, gloves and other things
needed to play the game.
The first thing they did was to start work on their new diamond in
Mr. Bashford’s field. It was cleared of the bigger stones, and a
large flat one was picked out for home plate. Then Tommy got some
barrel-heads from his cellar, nailed them together, and staked them
to the ground to use for bases—first, second and third. Next, a place
for the pitcher to stand was dug out, the base lines were marked by
taking a hoe and cutting out some of the sod, and then the place
began to look like a real diamond, though it was rather small, for
the boys could not run the full length of regular bases.
“If we only had a back-stop!” exclaimed Tommy regretfully one day
after school, when he and several others of his new friends were
working on the field. “That’s what we need most now.”
“Can’t we build one ourselves?” asked Teddy.
“If we had the boards we might, but lumber costs money, and we
haven’t hardly any left,” was Tommy’s reply.
I might explain that each of the boys had a little pocket money, and
most of this was turned into a general fund. With it they bought some
gloves, two new balls and a few bats.
“But that’s all we can stand now,” said Tommy. “If we can earn more
money we’ll have a back-stop, and I guess we can. It will soon be
summer, and lots of people will want their grass cut. We fellows can
do it, I think. We can use our lawn mower, and before long we may
have enough cash to get suits all around. But we’ll play without
them at first.”
“Who are we going to play?” asked Joie.
“Any team our size. I’ll send out some challenges,” said Tommy.
“Maybe the team from Millton will come here. And we’ll play any scrub
team that wants to.”
“What you going to call our team?” inquired Teddy.
“Oh, we’ll have a meeting and decide on a name,” replied the lad who
was doing more than anyone else to get the boys into a ball nine.
“The thing to do now is to get the ground in shape.”
There had been several talks among the lads, who met in each other’s
houses or in Tommy’s attic room, which he had fitted up with many of
his own treasures, so that it looked a little like a “den,” as he had
heard some older boys call their apartment.
The Tiptop house had been pretty well settled by this time. Tommy and
Nellie had started to school, and they had made many new friends.
Tommy several times saw the lad who had taken his bat, but the bully
did not even speak to our hero, and Tommy was glad enough to let
Jakie alone.
“Well, as soon as we clean out the third base line, I guess we’ll
stop,” suggested Tommy one afternoon, when they had done considerable
work on the diamond. “My! but it’s hot, though!”
“I should say so!” exclaimed Joie Grubb. “I wonder if it isn’t warm
enough to go in swimming?”
“Of course it is!” agreed Mortimer Manchester. “Let’s go down to the
old swimming hole by the buttonball tree. I was in the other day, and
it wasn’t as warm as it is now.”
“Come on!” cried the boys in a chorus, and soon Tommy and the others,
stopping work on the baseball diamond, were hurrying toward the old
swimming hole. Within a few minutes they were in the water, splashing
about, diving off a spring-board, swimming across the hole under
water, leaping over and ducking each other and having a general good
time.
It was quite warm, and the water was not a bit chilly, so they stayed
in for some time.
“Well, I’m going out,” finally announced Tommy. “Can you fellows come
over to my house this evening, and we’ll see about having a meeting,
getting a captain, manager and things like that? We want to arrange
about playing other nines, too.”
Several of the boys promised to come, though some had to stay at home
and study, and, while busily thinking of how he could manage to raise
money for uniforms, Tommy scrambled out of the water and ran toward
the place where he had left his clothes.
“Hello!” he suddenly exclaimed. “This is queer!”
“What’s the matter?” asked Billie. “Did somebody tie your clothes in
knots?”
“I should say they had!” exclaimed Tommy, “and hard knots, too! Look
at the legs of my pants! I’ll never get them out, and my shirt and
coat, too! And where are my shoes?”
The other boys aided him in looking around in the grass for them. But
though the shoes of everyone else but Tommy Tiptop were there, his
had disappeared.
“Guess I’ll have to go home barefoot,” he remarked, ruefully, “and my
mother won’t like it. Those shoes were almost new.”