TOMMY’S NINE PLAYS
“Say, that’s a great idea!” exclaimed Joie Grubb.
“I should say it was,” added Georgie Pennington.
“Wonder why we didn’t think of it ourselves?” asked Teddy Bunker.
“Oh, it takes Tommy Tiptop to do things,” declared Sammie Sandlass,
ruffling his red hair. “It’s a good thing he came to town.”
“Oh, well, it just happened to come to me,” said Tommy, who blushed
a bit at all this praise, though he could not help liking it. It was
the day after he had had his idea about building a back-stop from
the lumber of the old boxes, and he and his chums were clearing the
packing cases out of the cellar of the florist’s shop and out of the
alleyway.
“Look out for nails in your hands!” warned Mr. Fillmore, as he
watched the boys at work. “You can’t play ball if you get all
scratched up.”
“Say, we ought to get a hammer, knock out some of these nails and
save ’em,” proposed Tommy. “We’ll need all the nails we can get to
put up the back-stop.”
“That’s a good idea,” declared Joie Grubb. “I’ll ask Mr. Fillmore for
the hammer.”
One was supplied, and many nails were pulled out, being carefully
saved to be straightened and used again. Box after box was taken,
some large and some small. A number of the boys had hand wagons, and
on these they piled the boxes. It made quite a procession when they
were ready to start for the ball field, as there were eight or ten
boys and nearly half a dozen carts.
“Say, what’s going on?” asked Mr. Wentworth, the hardware merchant,
who had a store next to the florist’s. “Are those boys going to have
an election bonfire?”
“They’re going to make a baseball back-stop,” explained Mr. Fillmore.
“That’s a plucky chap at the head of the nine—Tommy Tiptop.” And he
related how our hero had gone on the errand for him and had had the
idea about using the old packing cases.
“Say, that’s the kind of boys I like!” exclaimed the hardware man.
“Boys who do things. If they want any nails for their back-stop,
just you tell ’em I’ll supply all they need for nothing. They’ve got
pluck to start a small nine, and I’d like to see ’em play some time.
The big team here is so professional, and they depend so much on the
pitcher, that it’s no fun watching them play sometimes.”
“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Fillmore. “Some day you and I will go and
see these small chaps play an old-fashioned game of ball, without
much regard for the rules—the same kind of a game you and I played
when we were youngsters.”
“Oh, but the game is different now,” said the hardware man. “You’ll
find that these small chaps know almost as much about the rules as
their bigger brothers. But that Tommy Tiptop has certainly started
things moving around here. I like that kind of a boy.”
Spring was turning into summer, and it was fine baseball weather,
the boys thought, as they turned into the field which they had made
into a fairly good diamond and where they intended to start their
back-stop.
They had already played several practice games, and they did very
well. Everyone said Tommy made a fine captain.
“How do you make a back-stop?” asked Joie Grubb when the procession,
which had been made larger by the addition of a number of admiring
smaller lads, reached the diamond. “I never built one before.”
“Neither did I,” replied Tommy, “but I looked at the one on the big
diamond. There are just some posts stuck in the ground, and then
boards nailed on them crossways.”
“Then we’ve got to get some posts,” said practical Teddy.
“There are a lot of fence rails in that pile,” added Billie. “If Mr.
Bashford would let us take them they’d do fine!”
“I’ll go ask him,” volunteered Tommy. “I know him pretty well now.
You fellows can be knocking the sides off the boxes, and be careful
to save the nails, and don’t split the boards.”
The boys became busy as their captain ran off to make his request of
the farmer. Not only did Mr. Bashford say they could take as many
posts as they needed, but he loaned them a post spade with which to
dig the holes.
“Whew! It’s hard work!” exclaimed Tommy when, after nearly a half
hour’s work, he had not got a hole deep enough to hold the post
firmly. The meadow land was rather heavy to dig.
“Let me try,” suggested Sammie Sandlass.
He was struggling with the spade, and Tommy was wondering how long
before he could arrange for a regular game, when a strange voice
exclaimed:
“You boys don’t know how to dig holes. Let me try!”
They turned quickly, and Tommy beheld rather an old man, clad in
ragged garments, who was looking at the lads with a good-natured
smile on his face. Tommy had never seen him before, but several of
the other lads seemed to know him, for they at once exclaimed:
“Hello, Old Johnny Green! What are you doing here?”
“Oh, just walking around,” answered the man. “I saw you boys over
here, and I thought maybe you were going to have a campfire and cook
something. I was hungry, so I came over. But I see what you’re doing.
Let me dig the post holes for you.”
He took the spade from Sammie’s hand, and soon had a hole
sufficiently deep to hold a post when the dirt was filled in around
it.
“Who is he?” asked Tommy of Teddy in a whisper, as the two lads were
knocking more sides off the boxes.
“Johnny Green is his name, and everybody always calls him ‘Old,’
because there is another Mr. Green, of the same name, in town.”
“Is he a tramp?” asked Tommy.
“No, but he never works—that is, to make any money. He’s always
willing to help everybody else at any work he sees going on, but he
won’t work for himself—sort of shiftless, my father says.”
“How does he live?” asked Tommy.
“Oh, the town helps support him. If he would only work steadily, he
could make good money, for he is handy with tools. But he wanders all
around. Everybody likes him, for he’s kind and gentle. He’ll probably
be around our ball field all summer, and he’ll help us all he can.”
“Then we’ll treat him right,” decided Tommy. “I’m glad he’s digging
those holes, for we never could do it.”
Old Johnny Green proved that he knew how to do other things besides
dig the holes, for he showed the boys the best way in which to nail
the boards on the posts.
“You’ll need more nails, though,” he said when the bottom layer of
boards had been put on, and when the back-stop was really beginning
to look like something.
“I’ll go buy some,” volunteered Tommy. “We can take the money out of
the treasury later.”
But he did not have to spend any of his change for nails, for the
hardware man, true to his promise, supplied all that were needed.
“We’re getting on fine!” thought Tommy on his way back to the lot.
The back-stop was not finished that night, but Old Johnny Green
rather surprised the boys, and other people too, by working on it all
the next day, so that it was completed late in the afternoon. Tommy
told his mother about the queer character, and she sent him a big
basket of victuals, which Old Johnny Green said more than paid him
for his work for the boys.
“And now we’re ready for games!” exclaimed Tommy, as they looked at
the completed back-stop.
“Have you heard from those fellows in Freeport yet?” asked Billie.
“No, but I expect to in a few days,” replied the young captain. He
got a letter from Joe Forker the next morning. Joe was captain of
the Freeport Ramblers now, and he wrote that they would play Tommy’s
team, which had been named the Riverdale Roarers, on the following
Saturday.
“Then we’ve got to do some hard practice,” decided Tommy, as he
proudly read to his players the first challenge acceptance they had
received.
“We sure will!” exclaimed Teddy.
“Say, we’re like a regular nine!” declared Billie in delight.
“If we only had uniforms!” sighed Tommy. That was his one big
ambition, and he hoped the Freeport Ramblers would not have suits.
But they did, and very trim they looked in them when they reached the
grounds on Saturday afternoon.
In the meanwhile Tommy and his chums had been doing some hard
practice, and they felt that they could win unless the other team had
better players. And when Tommy looked over the visiting nine, he felt
a little doubtful of the ability of his own.
“But we’ll do our best!” he exclaimed.
A few seats had been put up from wood left over from the back-stop,
and on these the players could sit. There were no seats for the
audience, and, as a matter of fact, there was not much of a crowd.
There were lots of the town boys—the smaller ones—and a few men
and youths, who had nothing in particular to do. But Tommy and his
friends did not care for the audience so much as they did care to
play ball.
Tommy had a talk with Joe Forker, the other captain, and little time
was wasted. They picked out an umpire. Tommy, who was to do the
pitching, had some “warm-up” practice with Teddy, who would catch,
and then, as the visitors had lost the toss, and had to take first
inning, Tommy went to the pitching box.
“Make him give you a good ball now!” called Henry Hicks to Will
Warnton, who was first up at the bat.
“I’m going to make a home run!” retorted Will, boastingly.
“Play ball!” called the umpire, and Tommy threw what he hoped would
be a curve.
Tommy Tiptop’s nine was playing its first regular game, and the young
captain felt very proud and happy, as he realized that it was due
mostly to his own efforts that this had come about.