THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER

or Dick & Co. On the Gridley Diamond

CONTENTS

CHAPTERS I. The Principal Hears Something About Pennies II. Dick Takes Up His Pen III. Mr. Cantwell Thinks Twice---or Oftener IV. Dave Warns Tip Scammon V. Ripley Learns That the Piper Must be Paid VI. The Call to the Diamond---Fred Schemes VII. Dave Talks with One Hand VIII. Huh? Woolly Crocheted Slippers IX. Fred Pitches a Bombshell into Training Camp X. Dick & Co. Take a Turn at Feeling Glum XI. The Third Party's Amazement XII. Trying out the Pitchers XIII. The Riot Call and Other Little Things XIV. The Steam of the Batsman XV. A Dastard's Work in the Dark XVI. The Hour of Tormenting Doubt XVII. When the Home Fans QuiveredXVIII. The Grit of the Grand Old Game XIX. Some Mean Tricks Left Over XX. A Tin Can for the Yellow Dog XXI. Dick is Generous Because It's Natural XXII. All Roads Lead to the Swimming PoolXXIII. The Agony of the Last Big Game XIV. Conclusion

CHAPTER I

THE PRINCIPAL HEARS SOMETHING ABOUT "PENNIES"

Clang!

"Attention, please. "

The barely audible droning of study ceased promptly in the bigassembly room of the Gridley High School. 

The new principal, who had just stepped into the room, and whonow stood waiting behind his flat-top desk on the platform, wasa tall, thin, severe-looking man of thirty-two or three. 

For this year Dr. Carl Thornton, beloved principal for a half-scoreof years, was not in command at the school. Ill health had forcedthe good old doctor to take at least a year's rest, and this strangernow sat in the Thornton chair. 

"Mr. Harper, " almost rasped out Mr. Cantwell's voice, "stop rustlingthat paper. "

Harper, a little freshmen, who had merely meant to slip the paperinside his desk, and who was not making a disturbing noise thereby, flushed pink and sat immobile, the paper swinging from one hand. 

From the principal's attitude and his look of seriousness, somethingunusual was pending. Some of the girls permitted their apprehensionto be seen. On the faces of several of the boys rested a lookof half defiance, for this principal was unpopular, and, by thestudents, was considered unjust. 

"It being now in the early part of December, " went on Mr. Cantwell, "we shall, on Monday, begin rehearsing the music for the specialexercises to be held in this school on the day before Christmas. To that end, each of you found, on returning from recess, thenew Christmas music on your desk. "

Mr. Cantwell paused an instant for this important informationto sink in. Several slight, little sighs of relief escaped thestudents, especially from the girls' side of the great room. This speech did not presage anything very dreadful to come. 

"This sheet music, " continued Mr. Cantwell, "is to be sold tothe pupils at cost to the Board of Education. This cost priceis fifteen cents. "

Again Mr. Cantwell paused. It was a trick of his, a personalpeculiarity. Then be permitted himself a slight smile as he added:

"This being Friday, I will ask you all to be sure to bring, onMonday morning, the money, which you will pay to me. Don't forget, please; each of you bring me his little fifteen pennies. Now, return to your studies until the beginning of the fourth periodis announced. "

As he bent his head low behind a bulky textbook, Dan Dalzell, of the sophomore class, glanced over at Dick Prescott with sparklingmischief gleaming in his eyes. 

Dick, who was now a sophomore, and one of the assured leadersin sports and fun, guessed that Dan Dalzell was hatching anotherof the wild schemes for which Dalzell was somewhat famous. Dickeven guessed that he knew about what was passing in Dan's mind. 

Though moderate whispering was permitted, at need, in the assemblyroom, there was no chance for Dick and Dan to pass even a wordat this time, for almost immediately the bell for the fourth periodof the morning's work sounded, and the sections rose and filedout to the various recitation rooms. 

To readers of the preceding volume in this series, Dick & Co. Will need no introduction. All six of the youngsters were verywell introduced in "The High School Freshmen. "

Such readers will remember their first view of Dick & Co. Withbrown-haired Dick Prescott as leader, the other members of thisunique firm of High School youngsters, were Tom Reade, Dan Dalzell, Harry Hazelton, Gregory Holmes and Dave Darrin. 

The six had been chums at the Central Grammar School, and hadstuck together like burrs through the freshman year at the GridleyHigh School. In fact, even in their freshmen period, when newstudents are not expected to have much to say, and are given nochance at the school athletics, Dick & Co. Had made themselvesabundantly felt. 

Our readers will recall how the Board of Education had some notionof prohibiting High School football, despite the fact that theGridley H. S. Eleven was one of the best in the United States. Readers will also recall the prank hatched by Dick & Co. , bymeans of which the Board was quickly shown how unpopular sucha move would be in the city. 

Our readers will also recollect that, though freshmen were barredfrom active part in sports, yet Dick & Co. Found the effectiveway of raising plentiful funds for the Athletics Committee. Inthe annual paper chase the freshmen hounds, under Dick Prescott'scaptaincy, beat the sophomore hares---for the first time in manyyears. In the skating events, later on, Dick and his chums captured, for the freshman class, three of the eight events. From the start, Dick & Co. Had shown great ingenuity in "boosting" football, inreturn for which, many of the usual restrictions on freshmen werewaived where Dick & Co. Were concerned. 

In the nearly three months, now, that the new school year hadgone along, Dick & Co. Had proved that, as sophs, they were youngstersof great importance in the student body. They were highly popularwith most of their fellow-students; but of course that very popularitymade them some enemies among those who envied or disliked them. 

For one thing, neither Dick nor any of his partners came of familiesof any wealth. Yet it was inevitable that some of the boys andgirls of Gridley H. S. Should come from families of more or lesswealth. 

It is but fair to say that most of these scions of the wealthierfamilies were agreeable, affable and democratic---in a word, Americanswithout any regard to the size of the family purse. 

A few of the wealthier young people, however, made no secret oftheir dislike for smiling, happy, capable Dick & Co. One of theleaders in this feeling was Fred Ripley, son of a wealthy, retiredlawyer. 

During the skating events of the preceding winter, Dick Prescott, aided by his chums, had saved the life of Ripley, who had gonethrough thin ice. However, so haughty a young man as Fred Ripley, though he had been slightly affected by the brave generosity, could not quite bring himself to regard Dick as other than aninterloper in High School life. 

Ripley had even gone so far as to bribe Tip Scammon, worthless, profligate son of the honest old janitor of the High School, tocommit a series of robberies from the locker rooms in the schoolbasement while Dick carried the key as monitor there. The "plunder"had been found in Dick's own room at home, and the young man hadbeen suspended from the High School for a while. Thanks, however, to Laura Bentley and Belle Meade, two girls then freshmen andnow sophs, Tip had been run down. Then the police made Tip confess, and he was sent away to the penitentiary for a short term. Tip, however, refused to the last to name his accomplice. Dick knewthat Ripley was the accomplice, but kept his silence, preferringto fight all his own battles by himself. 

So Fred Ripley was now a junior, in good standing as far as scholarshipand school record went. 

So far, during this new year, Ripley had managed to smother hishatred for Dick & Co. , especially for Dick himself. 

Lessons and recitations on this early December morning went offas usual. In time the hands of the clock moved around to oneo'clock in the afternoon, at which time the High School closedfor the day. 

The partners of Dick & Co. Went down the steps of the buildingand all soon found their way through the surging crowds of escapedstudents. This sextette turned down one of the streets and trudgedalong together. At first several of the other High School boyswalked along near them. Finally, however, the crowd thinned awayuntil only Dick & Co. Were together. 

"Dan, " said Dick, smilingly, "something struck you hard this morning, when Mr. Cantwell asked us all to bring the music-money on Monday. "

"He didn't say exactly 'money, '" retorted Dan Dalzell, quickly. "What Prin. Did say was that each one of us was to bring fifteen_pennies_. "

"Yes, I remember, " laughed Dick. 

"Now, we couldn't have held that mob when school let out, " pursuedDan. "And now it's too late. But say, if the Prin. Had onlysprung that on us _before_ recess-----"

"Well, suppose he had?" interrupted Greg Holmes, a trifle impatiently. 

"Why, then, " retorted Dan, mournfully, "we could have passed wordaround, at recess, to have everybody bring just what the Prin. Called for---_pennies_!"

"Hm!" grinned Dave Darrin, who was never slow to see the pointof anything. "Then you had a vision of the unpopular Prin. Beingswamped under a deluge of pennies---plain, individual little coppercents?"

"That's it!" agreed Dan. "But now, we won't see more than a fewbefore we go to school again Monday. Oh---wow! What a chancethat takes away from us. Just imagine the Prin. Industriouslycounting away at thousands of pennies, and a long line of boyand girl students in line, each one waiting to pass him anotherhandful of _pennies_! Say, can you see the Prin. ---just turningwhite and muttering to himself? But there's no chance to getthe word around, now!"

"We don't need to get the word around, " smiled Dick. "If we passedthe word around, it might get to the Prin. 's ears before Monday, and he'd hatch up some way to head us off. "

"If you can see how to work the trick at this late hour, you cansee further than I can, " muttered Dan, rather enviously. 

"Oh, Dick has the scheme hatching, or he wouldn't talk about it, "declared Dave Darrin, confidently. 

"Why, if all you want is to send the whole student body on Mondaymorning, each with fifteen copper cents to hand the Prin. , thatcan be fixed up easily enough, " Dick pronounced, judicially. 

"How are we going to do it?" asked Dalzell, dubiously. 

"Well, let us see how many pennies would be needed? There areclose to two hundred and fifty students, but a few might refuseto go into the trick. Let us say two hundred and forty _times_fifteen. That's thirty-six hundred, isn't it? That means wewant to get thirty-six dollars' worth of pennies. Well, we'llget them!"

"_We_ will?" demanded Dan, with a snort. "Dick, unless you'vegot more cash on hand than the rest of us then I don't believea dragnet search of this crowd would turn up two dollars. Thirty-six?That's going some and halfway back!"

"There are three principal ways of buying goods of any kind, "Dick continued. "One way is with cash-----"

"That's the street we live on!" broke in Harry Hazelton, witha laugh. 

"The second way, " Dick went on, "is to pay with a check. Butyou must have cash at the bank behind the check, or you get intotrouble. Now the third way is to buy goods on credit. "

"That's just as bad, " protested Dan. "Where, in the whole town, could a bunch of youngsters like us, get thirty-six dollars' worthof real credit?"

"I can, " declared Dick, coolly. 

"You? Where? With your father?"

"No; Dad rarely takes in much in the way of pennies. I don'tsuppose he has two dollars' worth of pennies on hand at any time. But, fellows, you know that 'The Morning Blade' is a one centpaper. Now, the publisher of 'The Blade' must bank a keg of penniesevery day in the week. I can see Mr. Pollock, the editor, thisafternoon, right after luncheon. He has probably sent most ofthe pennies to bank today, but I'll ask him if he'll have to-morrow'spennies saved for us. "

"Say, if he'll only do that!" glowed Dan, his eyes flashing. 

"He will, " declared Dave Darrin. "Mr. Pollock will do anything, within reason, that Dick asks. "

"Now, fellows, if I can put this thing through, we can meet inmy room to-morrow afternoon at one o'clock. Pennies come in rollsof fifty each, you know. We'll have to break up the rolls, andmake new ones, each containing fifteen pennies. "

Dave Darrin stopped where he was, and began to laugh. Tom Readequickly joined in. The others were grinning. 

"Oh, say, just for one look at Prin. 's face, if we can springthat job on him!" chuckled Harry Hazelton. 

"We can, " announced Dick, gravely. "So go home and enjoy yourdinners, fellows. If you want to meet on the same old corneron Main Street, at half-past two to-day, we'll go in a body to'The Blade' office and learn what Mr. Pollock has to say aboutour credit. "

"_Your_ credit, you mean, " corrected Dave. 

After dinner Dick & Co. Met as agreed. Arrived at "The Blade"office it was decided that Dick Prescott should go in alone tocarry on the negotiation. He soon came out again, wearing a satisfiedsmile and carrying a package under one arm. 

"If I'm any good at guessing, " suggested Dave, "you put the dealover. "

"Mr. Pollock agreed, all right, " nodded Dick. "I have fourteendollars here. He'll let us have the rest to-morrow. "

They hurried back to Dick's room, over the bookstore that wasrun by Mr. And Mrs. Prescott. 

"Whew, but this stuff is heavy, " muttered Dick, dumping the packageon the table. "Mr. Pollock sent out to the pressroom and hadsome paper cut of just the size that we shall need for wrappers. "

"Did you tell Pollock what we are going to do?" asked Greg Holmes. 

"Not exactly, but he guessed that some mischief was on. He wantedto know if it was anything that would make good local readingin 'The Blade, ' so I told him I thought it would be worth a paragraphor two, and that I'd drop around Monday afternoon and give himthe particulars. That was all I said. "

Inside the package were three "sticks" of the kind that are usedfor laying the little coins in a row before wrapping. 

"Now, one thing we must be dead careful about, fellows, " urgedDick, as he undid the package, "is to be sure that we get an exactfifteen coins in each wrapper. If we got in more, we'd be thelosers. If we put less than fifteen cents in any wrapper, thenwe're likely to be accused of running a swindling game. "

So every one of the plotters was most careful to count the coins. It was not rapid work, and only half the partners could workat any one time. They soon caught the trick of wrapping, however, and then the little rolls began to pile up. 

Saturday afternoon Dick & Co. Were similarly engaged. Nor didthey find the work too hard. Americans will endure a good dealfor the sake of a joke. 

Monday morning, shortly after half-past seven, Dick and his chumshad stationed themselves along six different approaches to theHigh School. Each young pranker had his pockets weighted downwith small packages, each containing fifteen pennies. 

Purcell, of the junior class, was the first to pass Dick Prescott. 

"Hullo, Purcell, " Dick greeted the other, with a grin. "Wantto see some fun?"

"Of course, " nodded the junior. "What's going?"

"You remember that Prin. Asked us, last Friday, to bring in ourfifteen pennies for the Christmas music?"

"Of course. Well, I have my money in my pocket. "

"_In pennies_?" insisted Dick. 

"Well, no; of course not. But I have a quarter, and I guess Prin. Can change that. "

Dick quickly explained the scheme. Purcell, with a guffaw, purchasedone of the rolls. 

"Now, see here, " hinted Dick, "there'll be such a rush, soon, that we six can't attend to all the business. Won't you takea dozen rolls and peddle them? I'll charge 'em to you, untilyou can make an accounting. "

Purcell caught at the bait with another laugh. Dick noted Purcell'sname on a piece of paper, with a dollar and eighty cents chargedagainst it. 

All the other partners did the same with other students. With sucha series of pickets out around the school none of the student bodygot through without buying pennies, except Fred Ripley and ClaraDeane. They were not asked to buy. 

Meanwhile, up in the great assembly room a scene was going onthat was worth looking at. 

Abner Cantwell had seated himself at his desk. Before him laya printed copy of the roll of the student body. It was the newprincipal's intention to check off each name as a boy or girlpaid for the music. Knowing that he would have a good deal ofcurrency to handle, the principal had brought along a satchelfor this morning. 

First of all, Harper came tripping into the room. He went tohis desk with his books, then turned and marched to the principal'sdesk. 

"I've brought the money for the music, Mr. Cantwell. "

"That's right, Mr. Harper, " nodded the principal. 

The little freshman carefully deposited his fifteen pennies onthe desk. They were out of the roll. Dick & Co. Had cautionedeach investor to break the wrapper, and count the pennies beforemoving on. 

Two of the seniors presently came in. They settled with pennies. Then came Laura Bentley and Belle Meade. Their pennies werelaid on the principal's desk. 

"Why, all pennies, so far!" exclaimed Mr. Cantwell. "I trustnot many will bring coins of such low denomination. "

A look of bland innocence rested on Laura's face. 

"Why, sir, " she remarked, "you asked us, Friday, to bring pennies. 

"Did I?" demanded the principal, a look of astonishment on hisface. 

"Why, yes, sir, " Belle Meade rattled on. "Don't you remember?You laughed, Mr. Cantwell, and asked each one of us to bringfifteen pennies to-day. "

"I had forgotten that, Miss Meade, " returned the principal. Then, as the sophomore young ladies turned away, a look of suspicionbegan to settle on the principal's face. Nor did that look lessenany when the next six students to come in each carried penniesto the desk. 

Twenty more brought pennies. By this time there was a stern lookon the principal's white face. 

During the next few minutes after that only two or three camein, for Dick had thought of a new aspect to the joke. He hadsent messengers scurrying out through the street approaches withthis message:

"We're not required to be in the assembly room until eight o'clock. Let's all wait until two minutes of eight---then go in a throng. "

So the principal had a chance to catch up with his counting asthe minutes passed. So busy was he, however, that it didn't quiteoccur to him to wonder why so few of the student body had as yetcome in. 

Then, at 7. 58, a resounding tread was heard on the stairs leadingup from the basement locker rooms. Some two hundred boys andgirls were coming up in two separate throngs. They were stillcoming when the assembly bell rang. As fast as any entered theymade their way, with solemn faces, to the desk on the platform. 

As Mr. Cantwell had feared, the pennies still continued to pourin upon him. Suddenly the principal struck his desk sharply witha ruler, then leaped to his feet. His face was whiter than ever. It was plain that the man was struggling to control himself againstan outburst of wrath. He even forced a smile to his face a sortof smile that had no mirth in it. 

"Young ladies and young gentlemen, " Mr. Cantwell rasped out, sharply, "some of you have seen fit to plan a joke against me, and to carryit out most audaciously. It's a good joke, and I admit that it'son me. But it has been carried far enough. If you please---_nomore pennies_!"

"But pennies are all I happen to have, sir, " protested Dave Darrin, stepping forward. "Don't you want me to pay you for the music, sir?"

"Oh, well, " replied the principal, with a sigh, "I'll take 'em, then. "

As Dick & Co. Had disposed of every one of their little rollsof fifteen, few of the students were unprovided with pennies. So the copper stream continued to pour in. Mr. Cantwell couldhave called any or all of his submasters and teachers to his aid. He thought of it presently, as his fingers ached from handlingall the pennies. 

"Mr. Drake, will you come to the desk?" he called. 

So Submaster Drake came to the platform, drawing a chair up besidethe principal's. But Mr. Cantwell still felt obliged to do thecounting, as he was responsible for the correctness of the sums. So all Mr. Drake could do was check off the names as the principalcalled them. 

Faster and faster poured the copper stream now. Mr. Cantwell, the cords sticking out on his forehead, and a clammy dew bespanglinghis white face, counted on in consuming anger. Every now andthen he turned to dump two or three handfuls of counted penniesinto his open satchel. 

Gathered all around the desk was a throng of students, waitingto pay. Beyond this throng, safely out of range of vision, otherstudents gathered in groups and chuckled almost silently. 

Clatter! By an unintentional move of one arm Mr. Cantwell sweptfully a hundred pennies off on to the floor. He leaped up, flushedand angry. 

"Will the young---gentlemen---aid me in recovering the coins thatwent on the floor?" he asked. 

There was promptly a great scurrying and searching. The principalsurely felt harassed that morning. It was ten minutes of ninewhen the last student had paid and had had his name checked off. Mr. Cantwell was at the boiling point of wrath. 

Just as the principal was putting the last of the coins into hissatchel Mr. Drake leaned over to whisper:

"May I make a suggestion, sir?"

"Certainly, " replied the principal coldly. "Yet I trust, Mr. Drake, that it won't be a suggestion for an easy way of accumulatingmore pennies than I already have. "

"I think, if I were you, sir, I should pay no heed to this joke-----"

"Joke?" hissed the principal under his breath. "It's an outrage!"

"But intended only as a piece of pleasantry, sir. So I thinkit will pass off much better if you don't allow the studentsto see that they have annoyed you. "

"Why? Do the students _want_ to annoy me?" demanded Mr. Cantwell, in another angry undertone. 

"I wouldn't say that, " replied Mr. Drake. "But, if the youngmen discover that you are easily teased, they are sufficientlymischief-loving to try other jokes on you. "

"Then a good friend of theirs would advise them not to do so, "replied Mr. Cantwell, with a snap of his jaws. 

That closed the matter for the time being. The first recitationperiod of the morning had been lost, but now the students, mostof them finding difficulty in suppressing their chuckles, weresent to the various class rooms. 

Before recess came, the principal having a period free from classwork, silently escaped from the building, carrying the thirty-sixhundred pennies to the bank. As that number of pennies weighssomething more than twenty-three pounds, the load was not a lightone. 

"I have a big lot of pennies here that I want to deposit, " heexplained to the receiving teller. 

"How many?" asked the teller. 

"Thirty-six hundred, " replied Mr. Cantwell. 

"Are they counted and done up into rolls of fifty, with your nameon each roll?" asked the teller. 

"Why---er---no, " stammered the principal. "They're just loose---inbulk, I mean. "

"Then I'm very sorry, Mr. Cantwell, but we can't receive themin that shape, sir. They will have to be counted and wrapped, and your name written on each roll. "

"Do you mean to say that I must take these pennies home, countthem all---again!---and then wrap them and sign the wrappers. "

"I'm sorry, but you, or some one will have to do it, Mr. Cantwell. "

Then and there the principal exploded. One man there was in thebank at that moment who was obliged to turn his head away andstifle back the laughter. That man was Mr. Pollock, of "The Blade. "Pollock knew now what Dick & Co. Had wanted of such a cargo ofpennies. 

"I can't carry this infernal satchel back to school, " groanedthe principal, disgustedly. "Some of the boys, when they see me, will realize that the satchel is still loaded, and they'll knowwhat has happened to me at the bank. It will make me look fearfullyridiculous to be caught in that fashion, with the joke againstme a second time! And yet I have a class immediately after recess. What can I do?"

A moment later, however, he had solved the problem. There wasa livery stable not far away, and he knew the proprietor. Soto that stable Mr. Cantwell hurried, changing the satchel fromone hand to the other whenever an arm ached too much. 

"This satchel contains a lot of currency, Mr. Getchel, " explainedthe poor principal. "I wish you could do me the favor of havinga horse hitched up and take this to my wife. Will you do it?"

"Certainly, " nodded the liveryman. "Just lock the satchel; thatis all. I'll have the bag at your home within fifteen minutes. "

So during the first period after recess Mrs. Cantwell was visitedby Getchel, who handed her the satchel, merely remarking:

"Mr. Cantwell left this at my office, ma'am, and asked me to bringit down to you. It contains some money that your husband sentyou. "

Money? The good woman, who "loved" money too well to spend muchof it, hefted the satchel. Gracious! There must be a big lotof the valuable stuff. But the satchel was locked. Mrs. Cantwellpromptly hunted until she found another satchel key that fitted. Then she opened the bag, staring at the contents with big eyes. 

"What on earth can my husband have been doing?" she wondered. "Surely he hasn't been robbing the Salvation Army Christmas boxes!And the idea of sending me money all in pennies!"

The more she thought about it the more indignant did Mrs. Cantwellbecome. Finally, a little after noon, Mrs. Cantwell decided totake the stuff to the bank, have it counted and turned over intogreenbacks. So she trudged up to the bank with it. The journeywas something more than a mile in length. Mrs. Cantwell arrivedat the bank, only to make the same discovery that her husbandhad made about the need of counting and wrapping the money beforeit could be deposited or exchanged. It was close to one o'clock, and the High School not far away. So, full of ire, Mrs. Cantwellstarted down to her husband's place of employment. 

Once school let out for the day, a quarter of a thousand membersof the student body went off, full of glee, to spread the newsof the joke. As they hurried along many of the students noticedthat Mrs. Cantwell was standing not far from the gate and that, at her feet, lay her husband's black satchel. Several of thestudents were quick to wonder what this new phase of the mattermeant. 

After school was dismissed Fred Ripley remained behind, strappingseveral books together. Then, as he passed the principal's desk, he remarked:

"I suppose, Mr. Cantwell, that some of the students thought thata very funny trick that was played on you this morning. WhileI am speaking of it, I wish to assure you, sir, that I had nohand in the outrage. "

"I am very glad to hear you say that, Mr. Ripley. Some day Ihope I shall have a notion who _did_ originate the practical joke. "

"I don't believe you would have to guess very long, sir, " Ripleyhinted. 

"What do you mean?"

"Why, sir, whenever anything of that sort is hatched up in thisschool, it's generally a pretty safe guess that Dick & Co. Areat the bottom of it all. "

"Dick & Co. ?" repeated Mr. Cantwell. 

"Dick Prescott and his chums, sir, " replied Ripley, rapidly namingthe five partners. Then, having accomplished what he wanted, Fred sauntered out. 

"I'll look into this further, " thought Mr. Cantwell, angrily. "If I can satisfy myself that Prescott was at the bottom of thiswicked hoax then I---I may find it possible to make him want tocut his High School course short!"

Mrs. Cantwell was waiting at the gate. 

"What on earth, Abner, did you mean by sending me this great cartloadof pennies?" demanded the principal's spouse. "Here I've takenit up to the bank, and find they won't accept it---not in thisform, anyway. Now, I've carried it this far, Abner, and you maycarry it the rest of the way home. "

"Why---er---er---" stammered the principal. 

"Mr. Getchel brought the satchel to me, and told me it was moneyyou had sent me. But I want to say, Abner, that of all the-----"

At this moment the principal picked up the hateful satchel andthe pair passed out of hearing of four young freshmen who hadhidden near to learn what the mystery of the satchel meant. It was not long, either, before the further joke had become knownto a great many of the students. 

CHAPTER II

DICK TAKES UP HIS PEN

Dick had no sooner ventured out on the street after dinner thanhe encountered the news of Mrs. Cantwell's meeting with her husband. 

But Dick did not linger long to discuss the matter. His pocketsnow contained, in place of pennies, a few banknotes and many dimes, pennies and nickels, amounting in all to thirty-six dollars. He was headed for "The Blade" office to settle with Mr. Pollock. 

"I think I can tell you a little story now, that may be wortha paragraph or two, " Dick announced after he had counted out themoney and had turned it over to the editor. 

"You played a little joke on your new and not wholly popular principal, didn't you?" Mr. Pollock asked, his eyes twinkling. 

"Yes; has the thing reached you already?"

"I don't know the whole story of the joke, " Mr. Pollock replied, "but perhaps I can tell you one side of it that you don't know. "

Thereupon the editor described Mr. Cantwell's visit to the bank. "Now, I've got a still further side to the story, " Dick continued, and repeated the story told by the freshmen of how Mrs. Cantwellalso had carried the money to the bank, and then, still carryingit, had waited for her husband at the school gateway. 

Editor Pollock leaned back, laughing until the tears rolled downhis cheeks. 

"I'm sorry for the good lady's discomfiture, " explained the editor, presently. "But the whole story is very, very funny. "

"Now, I guess you know all the facts, " finished Dick Prescott, rising. 

"Yes, but I haven't a single reporter about. " Then, after a pause, "See here, Prescott, why couldn't you write this up for me?"

"I?" repeated Dick, astonished. "I never wrote a line for publicationin my life. "

"Everyone who does, has to make a start some time, " replied Mr. Pollock. "And I believe you could write it up all right, too. See here, Prescott, just go over to that desk. There's a stackof copy paper there. Write it briefly and crisply, and, for delicacy'ssake, leave out all that relates to Mrs. Cantwell. No use indragging a woman into a hazing scrape. "

Dick went over to the desk, picking up a pen. For the fist threeor four minutes he sat staring at the paper, the desk, the floor, the wall and the street door. But Mr. Pollock paid no heed tohim. Then, finally, Dick began to write. As he wrote a grincame to his face. That grin broadened as he wrote on. At lasthe took the pages over to Mr. Pollock. 

"I don't suppose that's what you want, " he said, his face veryred, "but the main facts are all there. "

Laying down his own pen Mr. Pollock read rapidly but thoughtfully. The editor began to laugh again. Then he laid down the lastsheet. 

"Prescott, that's well done. There's a good reporter lurkingsomewhere inside of you. "

Thrusting one hand down into a pocket Mr. Pollock brought outa half-dollar, which he tendered to Dick. 

"What am I to do with this?" asked the young sophomore. 

"Anything you please, " replied the editor. "The money's for you. "

"For me?" gasped Dick. 

"Yes, of course. Didn't you write this yarn for me? Of course'The Blade' is only a country daily, and our space rates are nothigh. But see here, Prescott, I'll pay you a dollar a columnfor anything you write for us that possesses local interest enoughto warrant our printing it. Now, while going to the High School, why can't you turn reporter in your spare time, and earn a littlepocket money?"

Again Dick gasped. He had never thought of himself as a buddingyoung journalist. Yet, as Mr. Pollock inquired, "Why not?" Whynot, indeed!

"Well, how do you think you'd like to work for us?" asked Mr. Pollock, after a pause. "Of course you would not leave the HighSchool. You would not even neglect your studies in the least. But a young man who knows almost everybody in Gridley, and whogoes about town as much as you do, ought to be able to pick upquite a lot of newsy stuff. "

"I wonder if I could make a reporter out of myself, " Dick pondered. 

"The way to answer that question is to try, " replied Mr. Pollock. "For myself, I think that, with some training, you'd make a goodreporter. By the way, Prescott, have you planned on what youmean to be when you're through school?"

"Why, it isn't settled yet, " Dick replied slowly. "Father andmother hope to be able to send me further than the High School, and so they've suggested that I wait until I'm fairly well throughbefore I decide on what I want to be. Then, if it's anythingthat a college course would help me to, they'll try to provideit. "

"What would you like most of all in the world to be?" inquiredthe editor of "The Blade. "

"A soldier!" replied young Prescott, with great promptness andemphasis. 

"Hm! The soldier's trade is rather dull these days, " repliedthe editor. "We're becoming a peaceful people, and the arbitrator'sword does the work that the sword used to do. "

"This country has been in several wars, " argued Dick, "and willbe in others yet to come. In times of peace a soldier's dutyis to fit himself for the war time that is to come. Oh, I believethere's plenty, always, that an American soldier ought to be doing. "

"Perhaps. But newspaper work is the next best thing to soldiering, anyway. Prescott, my boy, the reporter of to-day is the descendantof the old free-lance soldier of fortune. It takes a lot of nerveto be a reporter, sometimes, and to do one's work just as itshould be done. The reporter's life is almost as full of adventureas the soldier's. And there are no 'peace times' for the reporter. He never knows when his style of 'war' will break out. But Imust get back to my work. Are you going to try to bring us ingood matter at a dollar a column?"

"Yes, I am, thank you, " Dick replied, unhesitatingly, now. 

"Good, " nodded Mr. Pollock, opening one of the smaller drawersover his desk. "Here's something you can put on and wear. "

He held out to the boy an oblong little piece of metal, gold plated. 

"It's a badge such as 'The Blade' reporters wear, and has thepaper's name on it, " continued the editor. "You can pin it onyour vest. "

"I guess I'd better leave that part out for a while, " laughedDick, drawing back. "The fellows at school wouldn't do a thingto me if they caught me wearing a reporter's badge. "

"Oh, just as you please about that, " nodded Mr. Pollock, tossingthe badge back into the drawer. "But don't forget to bring usin something good, Prescott. "

"I won't forget, Mr. Pollock. "

As Dick went down the street, whistling blithely, he kept hishand in his pocket on the half-dollar. He had had much more moneywith him a little while before, but that was to pay to some oneelse. This half-dollar was wholly his own money, and, with theprospect it carried of earning more, the High School boy was delighted. Pocket money had never been plentiful with young Prescott. Thenew opportunity filled him with jubilation. 

It was not long, however, before a new thought struck him. Hewent straight to his parents' bookstore, where he found his motheralone, Mr. Prescott being out on business. 

To his mother Dick quickly related his new good fortune. Mrs. Prescott's face and words both expressed her pleasure. 

"At first, mother, I didn't think of anything but pocket money, "Dick admitted. "Then my head got to work a bit. It has struckme that if I can make a little money each week by writing for'The Blade, ' I can pay you at least a bit of the money that youand Dad have to spend to keep me going. "

"I am glad you thought of that, " replied Mrs. Prescott, pattingher boy's hand. "But we shan't look to you to do anything ofthe sort. Your father and I are not rich, but we have managedall along to keep you going, and I think we can do it for a whilelonger. Whatever money you can earn, Richard, must be your own. We shall take none of it. But I trust you will learn how tohandle your own money wisely. _That_ is one of the most valuablelessons to be learned in life. "

To his chums, when he saw them later in the afternoon, Dick saidnothing of Mr. Pollock's request. The young soph thought it betterto wait a while, and see how he got along at amateur reportingbefore he let anyone else into the secret. 

But late that afternoon Dick ran into a matter of interest andtook it to "The Blade" office. 

"That's all right, " nodded Mr. Pollock, after looking over Dick's"copy. " "Glad to see you have started in, my boy. Now, I won'tpay you for this on the nail. Wait until Saturday morning, cuttingall that you have printed out of the 'The Blade. ' Paste all theitems together, end on end, and bring them to me. That is whatreporters call a 'space string. ' Bring your 'string' to me everySaturday afternoon. We'll measure it up with you and settle. "

Dick hurried away, content. He even found that evening that hecould study with more interest, now that he found he had a financialplace in life. 

In the morning Gridley read and laughed over Dick's item aboutthe High School hoax. But there was one man who saw it at hisbreakfast table, and who went into a white heat of rage at once. That man was Abner Cantwell, the principal. 

He was still at white heat when he started for the High School;though, warned by prudence, he tried to keep his temper down. Nevertheless, there was fire in Mr. Cantwell's eyes when herang the bell to bring the student body to attention to beginthe morning's work. 

CHAPTER III

MR. CANTWELL THINKS TWICE---OR OFTENER

"Young ladies and young gentlemen, " began the principal, "a verysilly hoax was perpetrated on me yesterday. I do not believeyou will have any difficulty in understanding what I mean. Butthe matter went beyond this school room. An account of the hoaxwas published in the morning paper, and that holds me up to severeridicule. I trust that we shall not have any repetition of suchchildish, so-called jokes. I do not know yet what action I mayor may not take in this matter, and can promise nothing. I canand do promise, however, that if any more such hoaxes are attemptedI shall do all in my power to ferret out and summarily punishthe offenders!-----"

Here the principal's own sense of prudence warned him that hehad gone quite as far as was necessary or prudent. So he chokeddown his rising words and called for the morning singing. Yet, as Mr. Cantwell uttered his last words his glance fell very sternlyon one particular young member of the sophomore class. Dick Prescott. 

"Prin. Has it in for you, old fellow!" whispered Dave Darrin, as he and Dick jostled on the way to a recitation. "But if hehas---humph---it won't be long before he finds out that you hadsome help. You shan't be the scapegoat for all of Dick & Co. "

"Don't say anything, " Dick whispered back. "I'll find a way totake care of myself. If any trouble is to come, I think I cantake care of it. Anyway, I won't have anyone else dragged into it. "

But the principal said nothing more during that school session. In the afternoon, however, when Mr. Cantwell took his accustomedwalk after dinner, he met several acquaintances who made laughingor casual references to the yarn in the morning's "Blade. "

"I've got to stamp this spirit out in the school, " decided theprincipal, again at a white heat. "If I don't I'll soon havesome real trouble on hand with these young jackanapes! The ideaof their making me---the principal---ridiculous in the town!No school principal can submit to hoaxes like that one withoutsuffering in public esteem. I'll sift this matter down and nipthe whole spirit in the bud. "

In this Mr. Cantwell was quite possibly at error in judgment. Probably the High School boys wouldn't have played such a prankon good old Dr. Thornton, had he still been their school chief. But, if they had, Dr. Thornton would have admitted the joke good-humoredlyand would have taken outside chaffing with a good nature thatwould have disarmed all wit aimed at him. Mr. Cantwell, as willbe seen, lacked the saving grace of a sense of humor. He alsolacked ability in handling full-blooded, fun-loving boys. 

Wednesday, just before one o'clock, the principal electrifiedthe assembled students by saying, in a voice that was ominouslyquiet and cool:

"When school is dismissed I shall be glad to have Mr. Prescottremain for a few words with me. "

"Now it's coming, " thought Dick, though without any particularthrill of dismay. 

He waited while the others filed out. Somehow the big buildingdidn't empty as fast as usual. Had Mr. Cantwell known more aboutboy nature he would have suspected that several of Dick's friendshad remained behind in hiding places of their own choosing. 

Dick remained in his seat, coolly turning the pages of his text-bookon ancient history. 

"Mr. Prescott, " called the principal sharply. 

"Yes, sir, " responded Dick, closing the book, slipping it intohis desk, and rising as though to go forward. 

"No, no; keep your seat until I am ready to speak with you, Mr. Prescott. But it isn't necessary to read, is it?"

"I was looking through to-morrow's history lesson, sir, " Dickreplied, looking extremely innocent. "But, of course, I won'tif you disapprove. "

"Wait until I come back, " rapped out the principal, leaving theroom. He went out to see that the building was being emptiedof students, but of course he failed to discover that a few werehiding as nearly within earshot as they could get. 

Two or three of the teachers who had remained behind now leftthe room. The last to go was Mr. Drake, the submaster. As hewent he cast a look at Dick that was full of sympathy, thoughthe submaster, who was a very decent man and teacher, did notby any means intend to foster mutiny in the heart of a High Schoolboy. But Mr. Drake knew that Mr. Cantwell was not fitted eitherto command respect or to enforce discipline in the High School. 

When Mr. Cantwell came back he and the young soph had the greatroom to themselves. 

"Now you may come forward, Mr. Prescott, " announced the principal, "and stand in front of the platform. "

As Dick went forward there was nothing of undue confidence orany notion of bravado in his bearing. He was not one of thoseschoolboys who, when brought to task by authority, try to puton a don't-care look. Dick's glance, as he halted before theplatform and turned to look at Mr. Cantwell, was one of simpleinquiry. 

"Mr. Prescott, you are fully informed as to the hoax that wasperpetrated on me yesterday morning?"

"You mean the incident of the pennies, I think, sir?" returnedthe boy, inquiringly. 

"You know very well that I do, young man, " retorted Mr. Cantwell, rapping his desk with one hand. 

"Yes, sir; I am fully informed about it. "

"And you know who was at the bottom of it, too, Mr. Prescott?"

The principal bent upon the boy a look that was meant to makehim quail, but Dick didn't quail. 

"Yes, sir, " he admitted, promptly. "I know at least several thathad a hand in the affair. "

"And you were one of them?"

"Yes, sir, " admitted the young soph, frankly. "I think I hadas much to do with what you term the hoax, sir, as anyone elsehad. "

"Who were the others?" fired the principal, quickly and sharply. 

"I---I beg your pardon, sir. I cannot answer that. "

"You can't? Why not, Mr. Prescott?" demanded the principal. 

Again the principal launched his most compelling look. 

"Because, sir, " answered Dick, quietly, and in a tone in whichno sign of disrespect could be detected, "it would strike me asbeing dishonorable to drag others into this affair. "

"You would consider it dishonorable?" cried Mr. Cantwell, hisface again turning deathly white with inward rage. "_You_, whoadmit having had a big hand in what was really an outrage?"

But Dick met and returned the other's gaze composedly. 

"The Board of Education, Mr. Cantwell, has several times decidedthat one pupil in the public schools cannot be compelled by ateacher to bear tales that implicate another student. I haveadmitted my own share in the joke that has so much displeasedyou, but I cannot name any others. "

"You _must_!" insisted the principal, rising swiftly from hischair. 

"I regret to have to say, sir, " responded Prescott, quietly, "thatI shall not do it. If you make it necessary, I shall have totake refuge behind the rulings of the Board of Education on thatpoint. "

Mr. Cantwell glared at Dick, but the latter still met the gazeunflinchingly. 

Then the principal began to feel his wrath rising to such a pointthat he found himself threatened with an angry outburst. As histemper had often betrayed him before in life, Mr. Cantwell, pointingangrily to Dick's place, said:

"Back to your seat, Mr. Prescott, until I have given this mattera little more thought!"

Immediately afterward the principal quitted the room. Dick, aftersitting in silence for a few moments, drew his history again fromhis desk, turned over the pages, found the place he wanted andbegan to read. 

It was ten minutes later when the principal returned to the room. He had been to one of the class rooms, where he had paced upand down until he felt that he could control himself enough toutter a few words. Now, he came back. 

"Prescott, I shall have to think over your admission before Icome to any decision in the matter. I may not be able to announcemy decision for a while. I shall give it most careful thought. In the meantime, I trust, very sincerely, that you will not becaught in any more mischief---least of all, anything as serious, as revolutionary, as yesterday's outrageous impudence. You maygo, now---for to-day!"

"Very good, sir, " replied Dick Prescott, who had risen at hisdesk as soon as Mr. Cantwell began to talk to him. As young Prescottpassed from the room he favored the principal with a decorouslittle bow. 

Dave Darrin, Tom Reade, Greg Holmes, Harper and another memberof the freshman class, came out of various places of hiding. As he went down the stairs Dick was obliged to tread heavily enoughto drown out their more stealthy footfalls. 

Once in the open, Harper and the other freshman scurried away, their curiosity satisfied. But, a moment later, when Mr. Cantwelllooked out of the window, he was much surprised to see four membersof Dick & Co. Walking together, and almost out through the gate. 

"Have they been within earshot---listening?" wondered the principalto himself, and jotted down the names of Darrin, Reade and Holmes. The two freshmen, by their prompt departure had saved themselvesfrom suspicion. 

On Thursday nothing was said or done about Dick's case. WhenFriday's session drew toward its close young Prescott fully expectedto have sentence pronounced, or at least to be directed to remainafter school. But nothing of the sort happened. Dick filed outat the week's end with the rest. 

"What do you imagine Prin. Can be up to?" Dave Darrin asked, asDick & Co. Marched homeward that early Friday afternoon. 

"I don't know, " Dick confessed. "It may be that Mr. Cantwellis just trying to keep me guessing. "

"If that's his plan, " inquired Reade, "what are you going to do, old fellow?"

"Perhaps---just possibly---I shall fight back with the same weapon, "smiled Dick. 

Mr. Cantwell had, in truth, formed his plan, or as much of itas he could form until he had found just how the land lay, andwhat would be safe. His present berth, as principal of GridleyH. S. , was a much better one than he had ever occupied before. Mr. Cantwell cherished a hope of being able to keep the positionfor a good many years to come. Yet this would depend on the attitudeof the Board of Education. In order not to take any step thatwould bring censure from the Board, Mr. Cantwell had decided toattend the Board's next meeting on the following Monday evening, and lay the matter before the members confidentially. If theBoard so advised, Mr. Cantwell was personally quite satisfiedwith the idea of disciplining Dick by dropping him from the HighSchool rolls. 

"I'll protect my dignity, at any cost, " Mr. Cantwell, murmured, eagerly to himself. "After all, what is a High School principal, without dignity?"

Monday afternoon Dick Prescott stepped in at "The Blade" office. 

"Got something for us again?" asked Mr. Pollock, looking around. 

"Not quite yet, " Dick replied. "I've come to make a suggestion. "

"Prescott, suggestions are the food of a newspaper editor. Goahead. "

"You don't send a reporter to report the Board of Education meetings, do you?"

"No; those meetings are rarely newsy enough to be worth while. I can't afford to take up the evening of a salaried reporterin that way. But Spencer generally drops around, at the timethe Board is expected to adjourn, or else he telephones the clerk, from this office, and learns what has been done. It's mostlynothing, you know. "

"Spencer wouldn't care if he didn't have to report the Board meetingsat all?"

"Of course not. Len would be delighted at not having anythingmore to do. "

"Then let me go and report the meetings for you, on space. "

"My boy, a reporter would starve on that kind of space work. Why, after you put in the whole evening there, you might cometo the office only to learn that we didn't consider any of theBoard's doings worth space to tell about them. "

"Will you let me attend a few of the meetings, and take my chanceson the amount of space I can get out of it?"

"Go ahead, Prescott, if you can afford to waste your time in thatfashion, " replied Mr. Pollock, almost pityingly. 

"Thank you. That's what I wanted, " acknowledged Dick, and wentout very well contented. 

When it lacked a few minutes of eight, that evening, all the membersof the Board of Education had arrived. It was the same Boardas in the year before. All the members had been re-elected atthe last city election, though some of them by small majorities. Mr. Gadsby, one of the members who had won by only a slight marginover his opponent, stood with his back to a radiator, warminghimself, when he saw the door open. 

Mr. Gadsby nodded most genially to Mr. Cantwell, who entered. The principal came straight over to this member, and they shookhands cordially. Mr. Gadsby had been one of the members of theBoard who had been most anxious about having Cantwell appointedprincipal; Cantwell was, in fact, a family connection of Mrs. Gadsby's. 

"Coming to make some report, or some suggestion, I take it, eh, Cantwell?" murmured Mr. Gadsby in a low voice. "Most excellentidea, my dear fellow. Keeps you in notice and shows that yourheart is in the work. Most excellent idea, really. "

"I have a report to make, " admitted Mr. Cantwell, in an equallylow voice. "I---I find it necessary to make a statement aboutthe doings of a rather troublesome element in the school. Suspensionor expulsion may be necessary in order to give the best ideasof good discipline to many of the other students. But I shallstate the facts, and ask the Board to advise me as to just whatI ought to do in the premises. "

"Ask the Board's advice? Most excellent idea, really, " murmuredMr. Gadsby. "You can't go wrong then. But---er---what's thenature of the trouble? Who is the offen-----"

Mr. Gadsby was rubbing his hands, under his coat tails, as hefelt the warmth from the steam radiator reach them. 

"Why, the principal offender is named-----"

Here Mr. Cantwell paused, and looked rather astonished. 

"Tell me, Mr. Gadsby, what is Prescott, of the sophomore class, doing here?"

The principal's glance had just rested on Dick, who sat at a smallside table, a little pile of copy paper on the table, a pencilin his hand. 

"Oh---ah---Prescott, Richard Prescott?" inquired Mr. Gadsby. "Some of us were a bit surprised this evening to learn that Prescott, though he will continue to attend High School, has also takena position with 'The Morning Blade. ' Among other things to whichhe will attend, after this, Cantwell, is the matter of schooldoings in this city. He is to be the regular reporter of SchoolBoard meetings. Rather a young man to wield the power of thepress isn't he?" Mr. Gladsby chuckled at his own joke. 

"'Power of the press'?" murmured Mr. Cantwell, uncomfortably. "Surely you don't mean, Gadsby, that this mere boy, this HighSchool student, is going to be taken here seriously as representingthe undoubtedly great power of the press?"

"To some extent, yes, " admitted Mr. Gadsby. "'The Blade, ' asyou may know, is a good deal of a power in local politics. Now, some of us---er---did not win our re-elections by any too largemargins. A little dangerous opposition to---er---some of us---wouldmean a few new faces around the table at Board meetings. Mr. Pollock is---er---a most estimable citizen, and a useful man inthe community. Yet Mr. Pollock is---er---Cantwell---er---thatis, a bit 'touchy. ' No matter if Pollock's reporter is a schoolboy, if we treated the boy with any lack of consideration, then Pollockwould most certainly take umbrage at what he would choose to considera slight upon himself, received through his representative. Soat these Board meetings, young Prescott will have to be treatedwith as much courtesy as though he were really a man, for Pollock'shostility would be most disastrous to us---er---to some of us, possibly, I mean. But, really, young Prescott is a most brightand enterprising young fellow, anyway---a very likable boy. _You_like him, don't you, Cantwell?"

"Ye-e-es, " admitted the principal, though he added grimly underhis breath:

"I like him so well that I could eat him, right now, if I hada little Worcestershire sauce to make him more palatable. "

"The Board will please come to order, " summoned Chairman Stone, rapping the table with his gavel. "Mr. Reporter, have you goodlight over at your table. "

"Excellent, thank you, Mr. Chairman, " Dick replied. 

"Er---aren't you going to stay, Cantwell?" demanded Gadsby, asthe principal turned to leave the room. 

"No; the fact is---I---well, I want to consider my statement alittle more before I offer it to the Board. Good evening!"

Mr. Cantwell got out of the room while some of the members werestill scraping their chairs into place. 

Dick Prescott had not openly looked in the principal's direction. Yet the amateur reporter had taken it all in. He was grinninginside now. He had taken upon himself the work of reporting thesemeetings that he might be in a position to block any unfair moveon the part of the principal. 

"I wonder what Mr. Cantwell is thinking about, _now_?" Dick askedhimself, with an inward grin as he picked up his pencil. 

That Board meeting was about as dull and uneventful as the average. Yet Dick managed to make a few live paragraphs out of it thatGuilford, "The Blade's" news editor, accepted. 

It still lacked some minutes of ten o'clock when young Prescottleft the morning newspaper office and started briskly homeward. 

"I didn't catch that Board-reporting idea a day too soon, " theboy told himself, laughing. "Mr. Cantwell was certainly on handfor mischief to-night. But how quickly he made his get-away whenhe discovered that his culprit was present as a member of thepress! I guess Mr. Gadsby must have passed him a strong hint. But I must be careful not to have any malice in the matter. Some evening when Mr. Cantwell does come before the Board withsome report I must take pains to give him and his report a nicelittle notice and ask 'The Blade' folks to be sure to print it. Then---gracious!"

Utterly startled, Dick heard and saw an ugly brickbat whizz byhis head. It came out of the dark alley that the sophomore waspassing at that moment. And now came another, aimed straightfor his head!

CHAPTER IV

DAVE WARNS TIP SCAMMON

There wasn't time to jump out of the way of that second flyingmissile. 

By an instinct of self-preservation young Prescott, instead oftrying to leap out of the way, just collapsed, going down to hisknees. 

As he sank the missile struck the top of his cap, carrying itfrom his head. 

"Hi! Stop that, you blamed rascal!"

It was Dave Darrin's voice that rang out, as that young man camerushing down the street behind Prescott. 

Dick in another second was on his feet, crouching low, and runningfull tilt into the alleyway. 

It was Dick's way---to run at danger, instead of away from it. 

At his first bound into the alley, Prescott dimly made out somefellow running at the further end. 

There was an outlet of escape down there---two of them, in fact, as the indignant pursuer knew. So he put on speed, but soon wasobliged to halt, finding that his unknown enemy had gotten away. Here Dick was joined by breathless Dave Darrin, who had followedswiftly. 

"You go through there, Dave; I'll take the other way, " urged Dick, again starting in pursuit. 

The unknown one, however, had taken advantage of those few secondsof delay to get safely beyond chase. So the chums met, soon, in a side street. 

"His line of retreat was good, " muttered Dick, rather disgustedly. 

"Who was it, anyway?" Dave indignantly inquired. 

"I don't know. I didn't see. "

"Do you suppose it could have been Tip Scammon?" asked Dave, shrewdly. 

"Is Tip Scammon back from the penitentiary?"

"Got back this afternoon, and has been showing himself around townthis evening, " nodded Dave. "Say, I wonder if he could have beenthe one who ambushed you?"

"I don't like to throw suspicion on anyone, " Dick replied. "Still, I can't imagine anyone else who would have as much temptationto try to lay me up. Tip Scammon acted as Fred Ripley's tool, last year, in trying to make me out a High School thief. Tipwas sent away, and Fred didn't have to suffer at all, becauseTip wouldn't betray his employer. But Tip must have felt soreat me many a time when he was breaking rock at the penitentiary. "

The two chums walked slowly back to Main Street, still talking. 

"I saw you ahead of me, on the street, " Dave rattled on. "I wastrying to overtake you, without calling, when that thing camewhizzing by your head. Say, Dick, I wonder---"

"What?" demanded Prescott. 

"Oh, of course, it's a crazy notion. But I was wondering if Mr. Cantwell could have it in for you so hard that he'd put anyoneup to lying in ambush for you. "

Dick started, then thought a few moments. "No, " he decided. "Cantwellmay be erratic, and he certainly has a treacherous temper, andsome mean ways. But this was hardly the sort of trick he'd goin for. "

"Then it was Tip Scammon, all by himself, " declared Darrin, withgreat conviction. 

"But to go back to Mr. Cantwell, " Dick resumed, with a grin, "Imust tell you something really funny. Prin. Went to School Boardtonight with a long, bright knife sharpened for me. But he didn'tdo a thing. "

Then Prescott confessed to being a "Blade" representative, andtold of the principal's visit to the Board, and of his hurrieddeparture. 

Dave laughed heartily, though what seemed to amaze him most ofall was that Dick had found a chance to write for pay. 

"Of course you can do it, Dick, " continued his loyal friend, "butI never thought that anyone as young as you ever got the chance. "

"It came my way, " Dick went on, "and I'm mighty glad it did. So-----"

"Wow!" muttered Dave, suddenly, then started off at a sprint, as he muttered:

"Here's Tip Scammon now!"

Both boys moved along on a hot run. Tip was walking slowly alongMain Street, giving a very good imitation of one unconcerned. 

He turned when he heard the running feet behind him, however. His first impulse seemed to be to take to his heels. But theyoung jailbird quickly changed his mind, and turned to face them, an inquisitive look on his hard cunning face. 

"Good evenin', fellers. Where's the fire?" he hailed. 

"In my eyes! See it?" demanded Dave Darrin. His dark eyes certainlywere flashing as he reached out and seized Tip by one shoulder. 

"Now don't ye git festive with _me_!" warned Tip. 

"Oh, we don't feel ready for anything more festive than a lynchingparty, " muttered Dave, hotly. "See here, you-----"

"I s'pose ye think ye can do all ye wanter to me, jest becauseI've been doin' my stretch?" demanded Tip, aggressively. "Butdon't be too sure. Take yer hand offen my shoulder!"

Dave didn't show any sign of immediate intention of complying. 

"_Take it off_!" insisted Tip. 

But Dave met the fellow's baleful gaze with a cool, steady look. Tip, muttering something, edged away from under Dave's extendedhand. 

"Now, ye wanter understand, " continued young Scammon, "that Ican't be played with, jest because some folks think I'm down. If you come fooling around me you'll have to explain or apologize. "

"Tip, " questioned Dave Darrin, sharply, "why did you just throwtwo brickbats at Dick Prescott's head?"

"I didn't, " retorted Tip, stolidly. 

"You _did_. "

"I didn't. "

"Tip, " declared Dave, solemnly, "I won't call you a liar. I'lljust remark that you and truth are strangers. "

"I ain't interested in what you fellers got to say, " flared Tip, sullenly. "And I don't like your company, neither. So jest skatealong. "

"We're not going to linger with you, Tip, any longer than seemsabsolutely necessary, " promised Dave, coolly. "But what I wantto say is this: If you make any more attempts to do Dick Prescottany harm our crowd will get you, no matter how far we have togo to find you. Is that clear?"

"I s'pose it is, if you say so, " sneered young Scammon. 

"We'll get you, " pursued Dave, "and we'll turn you over to theauthorities. One citizen like Dick Prescott is worth more thana million of your stamp. If we find you up to any more tricksagainst Dick Prescott, or against any of us, for that matter, we'll soon have you doing your second 'stretch, ' as you have learnedto call a term at the penitentiary. Tip, your best card willbe to turn over a very new leaf, and find an honest job. Justbecause you've been in jail once don't go along with the notionthat it's the only place where you can find your kind of company. But whatever you do, steer clear of Dick Prescott and his chums. I think you understand that. Now, go!"

Tip tried to brazen it out, but there was a compelling qualityin the clear, steady gaze of Dave Darrin's dark eyes. After amoment Tip Scammon let his own gaze drop. He turned and shuffledaway. 

"Poor fellow!" muttered Dick. 

"Yes, with all my heart, " agreed Dave. "But the fellow doesn'twant to get any notion that he can go about terrorizing folksin Gridley!"

CHAPTER V

RIPLEY LEARNS THAT THE PIPER MUST BE PAID

Scammon, however, knew one person in Gridley whom he thought hecould terrorize. He started in promptly to do it. 

At three the next afternoon young Scammon loitered under a big, bare oak on one of the winding, little-traveled streets that ledfrom Gridley out into the open country beyond. 

In summer it was a favorite thoroughfare, especially for youngengaged couples who wanted to loiter along the road, chattingand picking wild flowers. 

In winter, however, the place was usually deserted, being morethan a mile out of the city. 

As Tip lingered he caught sight of haughty Fred Ripley comingdown the road at a fast walk. Fred looked both angry and worried. Tip, as soon as he caught sight of the young fellow who imaginedhimself an "aristocrat, " began to grin in his evil way. 

A dull, sullen, red fired Fred's cheeks when he caught sight ofthe one who was waiting for him. 

"Ye're most nearly on time, " Tip informed the other. 

"See here, Scammon, what in blazes did you mean by sending mea note like the one I got from you" demanded Fred?

Tip only grinned. 

"What did you mean, fellow?" Ripley insisted angrily. 

"I meant to get ye here, to let ye know what I had to say to ye, "Scammon retorted. 

"Why, confound you, fellow---" Fred began, stuttering a bit, butthe other cut in on him in short fashion. 

"None o' that to me, now, Fred Ripley. D'ye hear? Me an' youused to be pretty good pals, once on a time. "

At this charge, Fred winced very plainly. 

"And maybe we'll be pals, now, too, " Tip pursued, with the airof one who believed himself to be able to dictate terms. "Thatis, for your sake, I hope we are, Ripley. "

"What are you talking about? What do you want to see me about?Come to the point in mighty few words, " Ripley commanded, impatiently. 

"Well, now, first-off, last year, before I went away for my health---"Tip grinned in ghastly fashion 'ye hired me to do a certain jobfor ye. Right, so far, ain't I?"

"Possibly, " assented Fred, coldly. 

"Ye hired me to get hold of keys that could be used on one o'the High School locker rooms, " Tip went on, cunningly. "Ye hiredme to steal some stuff from the coats o' the young gents thatstudy there. Then ye hired me to break inter Dick Prescott'sroom and get the loot inter his trunk. Right, ain't I?"

Tip spoke assertively, making no effort to keep his voice low. 

"For goodness' sake don't shout it all over four counties, " protestedFred Ripley, glancing apprehensively about him. His face waspaler, now, from uneasiness. 

"Oh, I ain't afraid about anyone hearing me, " Tip went on, unconcernedly. "D'ye know why, Fred, my boy? Because I done mystretch for the trick, and there ain't nuthin' more comin' to me onthat score. If _you're_ 'fraid, jest go an' do yer stretch, like Idid, an' then ye won't care who hears or knows!"

Tip laughed cunningly. Fred's face darkened. He squirmed, yetfound himself afraid to show anger. 

"So I dropped ye that note, tellin' ye to come here at three thisaft'noon, " Scammon continued. "I told ye I hoped ye'd find itconvenient to come, an' hinted that if ye didn't, ye might wishlater, that ye had. "

"I'm here, " retorted the Ripley heir. "Now, what do you wantto say to me?"

"I'm broke, " Tip informed Ripley, plaintively. "Stony! Understand?I hain't got no money. "

"You don't expect me to furnish you with any?" demanded Fred, his eyes opening wide in astonishment. "I paid you, in full, last year. "

"Ye didn't pay me fer the stretch I done, did ye?" demanded Tip, insolently. "How much did ye pay me for keeping my mouth closed, so you wouldn't have to do your stretch?"

Fred winced painfully under that steady, half-ugly glance of theother. 

"And now, " continued Scammon, in a half-hurt way, "ye think it'shard if I tell ye that I want a few dollars to keep food in myinsides. "

"You've got your father, " hinted Fred. 

"Sure, I have, " Tip assented. 

"But it's mighty little he'll do for me until I get a job andsettle down to it. "

"Well, why don't you?" asked Fred Ripley. "That's the surestway to get straight with the world. "

"When I want advice, " sneered Scammon, "I won't tramp all theway out here, an' ask _you_ for it. Nope. I don't want advice. What I want is money. "

"Oh, well, Tip, I'm sorry for you and your troubles. Here's adollar for you. I wish I could make it more. "

Fred Ripley drew out the greenback, passing it over. Tip tookthe money, studying it curiously. 

"Ye're sorry just a dollar's worth---is that it? Well, old pal, ye'll have to be more sorry'n that. I'll let ye off fer ten dollars, but hand it over quick!"

Fred's first impulse was to get angry, but it didn't take himmore than an instant to realize that it would be better to keepthis fellow quiet. 

"I haven't ten dollars, Tip---on my honor, " he protested, hesitatingly. 

"On yer---what?" questioned Scammon, with utter scorn. 

"I haven't ten dollars. "

"How much have ye?"

There was something in Tip's ugly eyes that scared the boy. Fredwent quickly through his pockets, producing, finally, six dollarsand a half. 

"I'll give you six of this, Tip, " proposed Fred, rather miserably. 

"Ye'll give me _all_ of it, ye mean, " responded Scammon. "And ye'llmeet me to-morrow aft'noon with five more---something for interest, ye know. "

"But I won't have five dollars again, as soon as that, " arguedFred, weakly. 

"Yes, you will, " leered Tip. "You'll have to!"

"What do you mean?" demanded Fred, trying to bluster, but makinga failure of the attempt. 

"It'll take five more to give me lock-jaw, " declared Scammon. "I'm jest out of prison, and I mean to enjoy myself restin' afew days before I settle down to a job again. So, to-morrow, turn up with the five!"

"I don't know where to get the money. "

"Find out, then, " sneered the other. "I don't care where youget it, but you've got to get it and hand it over to me to-morrow, or it'll be too late, an' Gridley'll be too hot a place for 'ye!"

"I'll try, " agreed Ripley, weakly. 

"Ye'll do more'n try, 'cause if ye fail me ye'll have no furthershow, " declared Tip, with emphasis. 

"See, here, Scammon, if I can find another five---somehow---that'llbe the last of this business? You won't expect to get any moremoney out of me?"

"The five that you're goin' to bring me tomorrow will be in fullpayment. "

"Of all possible claims to date?" Fred insisted. 

"Yes, in full---to date, " agreed Scammon, grinning as though hewere enjoying himself. 

"And there'll never be any further demands?" questioned Fred. 

"Never again!" Scammon asserted, with emphasis. 

"You promise that, solemnly?"

"On my honor, " promised the jailbird, sardonically. 

"I'll try to get you the money, Tip. But see here, I'll be infront of the drug store next to the post office, at just threeo'clock to-morrow afternoon. You stop and look in the same window, but don't speak to me. If I can get the five I'll slip it intoyour hand. Then I'll move away. You stand looking in the windowa minute or so after I leave you, will you?"

"Sure, " agreed Scammon, cheerfully. 

"And don't do anything so plainly that any passerby can detectthe fact that you and I are meeting there. Don't let anyone seewhat I slip into your hand. "

"That'll be all right, " declared Tip Scammon, readily enough. 

"And mind you, that's the last money you're ever to ask me for. "

"That'll be all right, too, " came readily enough from the jailbird. 

"Then good-bye until to-morrow. Don't follow me too closely. "

"Sure not, " promised Tip. "Ye don't want anyone to know thatI'm your friend, and I'm good at keepin' secrets. "

For two or three minutes young Scammon remained standing underthe bare tree. But his gaze followed the vanishing figure ofFred Ripley, and a cunning look gleamed in Tip's eyes. 

Fred Ripley, when he had heard of Tip going to prison withoutsaying a word, had been foolish enough to suppose that thatincident in his own life was closed. Fred had yet to learn thatevil remains a long time alive, and that its consequences hitthe evil doer harder than the victim. 

CHAPTER VI

THE CALL TO THE DIAMOND---FRED SCHEMES

Recess! As the long lines filed rhythmically down from the secondfloor, thence to the basement, the leaders of the files quicklydiscovered something new posted on the bulletin board near theboys' locker rooms. 

As quickly as the files broke, there was such a rush to see thenew bulletin that those who got the best places had to read aloudto others. This was what the bulletin proclaimed:

Notice. 

_The gymnasium will be open at 2. 30 this afternoon for thegathering of all male students, except freshmen, who may be interestedin trying to make either the school or second baseball teams forthe coming season. Gridley will have some notable rivals in thefield this next year. Information comes that several of schoolbaseball teams will have better material and longer training fornext season. It is earnestly desired that all members of thethree upper classes who consider themselves capable of makingeither of the Gridley High School baseball teams be on hand thisafternoon, when as full plans as possible will be made. 

By order of the Athletics Committee of the Alumni Association. 

(signed) Edward Luce, B. B. Coach. _

A shout of approval went up from half of those presentas Purcell, of the junior class, finished reading. 

Many of those who had no thought of making the school or secondteams were filled with delight at thought of the training seasonbeing so soon to open. 

One of the boys who was pleased was Fred Ripley. He had handedthat five-dollar bill to Tip Scammon the afternoon before, andnow felt rather certain that he had closed the door on the wholeScammon episode. 

Like many another haughty, disagreeable person, Ripley had, inspite of his treatment of others, a keen desire to be well thoughtof. The year before, in the sophomore class, Fred had playedas one of the pitchers in the second team, and had done fairlywell on the few occasions when he had been given a chance. 

"There's no good reason why I can't make the post of pitcher onthe school team this year, " thought young Ripley, with a thrillof hope and expectant delight. 

"Going to show up this afternoon?" asked Dave of Prescott. 

"Of course I am, Darrin, " answered Prescott, as Dick & Co. Metout on the sidewalk. 

"Going to try to make the regular team?"

"Of course I am, " declared Dick, smiling. "And so, I hope, areevery one of you fellows. "

"I'd like to, " agreed Tom Reade. 

"Then don't say you'd _like_ to; say you're _going_ to, " admonishedDick. "The fellow who doesn't quite know never gets much of anyplace. Just say to yourself that you're going to be one of thestars on the school team. If you have to fall into the secondteam---don't be cast down over it---but make every possible efforttoward getting on the top team. That's the spirit that wins inathletics, " finished Dick, sagely. 

"I'm going to make the school team, " announced Dave Darrin. "Notonly that, but I'll proclaim it to anyone who'll be kind enoughto listen. The school nine, or 'bust, ' for me. "

"Good enough!" cheered Dick. "Now, then, fellows, we'll all beon hand this afternoon, won't we, and on every other afternoonthat we're needed?"

Dick & Co. Carried that proposition by a unanimous vote. 

"But see here, fellows, " urged Dick Prescott, "just try to keepone idea in mind, please. There's a good deal of objection, everyyear, that athletics are allowed to interfere with studies. Now, as soon as the end of recess is called to-day, let's every oneof us go back with our minds closed to baseball. Let us all keepour minds right on our studies. Why can't we six help to provethat interest in athletics puts the scholarship mark up, not down?"

"We can, " nodded Dave Darrin. "Good! I like that idea. We'llsimply go ahead and put our scholarship away up over where itis at present. "

To this the other chums agreed heartily. 

Luce, the coach for baseball, was one of the under submasters. He had made a record at college, for both baseball and scholarship. He was a complete enthusiast on the game of the diamond. Theyear before he had trained the school nine to a record that beatanything in the High School line in the whole state. His bulletinannounced that he intended to try to make the coming nine thebest yet. It didn't say that, in so many words, but the bulletinimplied it. 

Fred Ripley did not hit upon the idea of improved scholarship. Instead, that young man went into two classes, after recess, and reported "not prepared. " Then he settled back into a brownstudy of his chances in baseball. 

"I don't suppose Dick & Co. Will have the nerve to try for anythingbetter than the second nine, " muttered Fred to himself. "Still, one can never tell what that crowd will have the nerve to do!"

School out, Fred hurried home faster than was his wont. He caughthis father just as the latter was leaving the lunch table. 

"Dad, can I have a few minutes' talk with you about one of myambitions?" pleaded Fred. 

"Certainly, my boy, " replied the wealthy, retired lawyer. "I'mglad, indeed, to hear that you have any ambitions. Come intothe library, if you can let your luncheon go that long. "

"If you don't mind, Dad, I'd rather eat while I talk, " urged Fred. "I have to be back at school before three. "

"What---under discipline?" inquired the lawyer. 

"No, sir; it's baseball that I wish to talk about. "

"Well, then, Fred, what is it?" asked his father. 

"Why, sir, we're going to get together on baseball, this afternoon. The start for the season is to be made early this year. Gridleyexpects to put forth the finest High School nine ever. "

"I'm glad to hear that, " nodded the lawyer. "School and collegeathletics, rightly indulged in, give the budding man health, strength, courage and discipline to take with him out into the battle oflife. We didn't have much in the way of athletics when I wasat college, but I appreciate the modern tendency more than dosome men of my age. "

Fred, though not interested in his father's praise of athleticswaited patiently until his parent had finished. 

"I'm pretty sure, Dad, I can make the chance of being the starpitcher on the school team for this coming season, if only you'llback me up in it. "

"Why, as far as that goes, " replied Lawyer Ripley, "I believethat about all the benefits of school athletics can be gainedby one who isn't necessarily right at the top of the crowd. "

"But not to go to the top of the crowd, and not to try too, Dad, is contrary to the spirit of athletics, " argued Fred, rather cleverly. "Besides, one of the best things about athletics, I think, isthe spirit to fight for leadership. That's a usefullesson---leadership---to carry out into life, isn't it, sir?"

"Yes, it is; you're right about that, son, " nodded the lawyer. 

"Well, sir, Everett, one of the crack pitchers of national fame, is over in Duxbridge for the winter. He doesn't go south withhis team for practice until the middle or latter part of February. Duxbridge is only twelve miles from here. He could come overhere, or you could let your man take me over to Duxbridge in yourauto. Dad, I want to be the pitcher of the crack battery in theschool nine. Will you engage Everett, or let me hire him, totrain me right from the start in all the best styles of pitching?"

"How much would it cost?" asked the lawyer, cautiously. 

"I don't know exactly, sir. A few hundred dollars, probably. "

Fred's face was glowing with eagerness. His mother, who was standingjust behind him, nodded encouragingly at her husband. 

"Well, yes, Fred, if you're sure you can make yourself the starpitcher of the school nine, I will. "

"When may I go to see Everett, sir?" asked Fred, making no effortto conceal the great joy this promise had given him. 

"Since you're to be engaged for this afternoon, Fred, we'll makeit to-morrow. I'll order out the car and go over to Duxbridgewith you. ". 

It was in the happiest possible frame of mind, for him, that FredRipley went back to the High School that afternoon. He didn'tarrive until five minutes before the hour for calling the meeting;he didn't care to be of the common crowd that would be on handat or soon after two-thirty. 

When he entered, he found a goodly and noisy crowd of some eightyHigh School boys of the three upper classes present. Ripley noddedto a few with whom he was on the best terms. 

Settees had been placed at one end of the gym. There was an aislebetween two groups of these seats. 

"Gentlemen, you'll please come to order, now, " called out CoachLuce, mounting to a small platform before the seats. 

It took a couple of minutes to get the eager, half-turbulent throngseated in order. Then the coach rapped sharply, and instantlyall was silence, save for the voice of the speaker. 

"Gentlemen, " announced Mr. Luce, "it is the plan to make the nextseason the banner one in baseball in all our school's history. This will call for some real work, for constantly sustained effort. Every man who goes into the baseball training squad will be expectedto do his full share of general gymnastic work here, and to improveevery favorable chance for such cross-country running and otheroutdoor sports as may be ordered. 

"To-day, as we are so close to Christmas, we will arrange onlythe general details---have a sort of mapping-out, as it were. But immediately after the holidays the entire baseball squadthat enrolls will be required to start at once to get in generalathletic condition. There will be hard---what some may callgrilling---gym. Work at the outset, and much of the gym. Workwill be kept up even after the actual ball practice begins. 

"Early in February work in the baseball cage must begin, and itwill be made rather severe this year. In fact, I can assure youthat the whole training, this coming year, will be something thatnone but those who mean to train in earnest can get through withsuccessfully. 

"Any man who is detected smoking cigarettes or using tobacco inany form, will be dropped from the squad instantly. Every manwho enrolls will be required to make a promise to abstain, untilthe end of the ball season, from tobacco in any form. 

"In past years we have often been urged to adopt the trainingtable, in order that no greedy man may eat himself out of physicalcondition. It is not, of course, feasible to provide such a tablehere at the gym. I wish it were. But we will have training tableto just this extent: Every member of the squad will be handeda list of the things he may eat or drink, and another list ofthose things that are barred. The only exception, in the wayof departure, from the training list, will be the Christmas dinner. Every man who enrolls is in honor bound to stick closely to hislist of permissible foods until the end of the training season. 

"Remember, this year's work is to be one of the hardest work andall the necessary self-denial. It must be a disciplined and sustainedeffort for excellence and victory. Those who cannot accept theseprinciples in full are urged not to enroll in the squad at all. 

"Now, I will wait five minutes, during which conversation willbe in order. When I call the meeting to order again I will askall who have decided to enter the squad to occupy the seats hereat my right hand, the others to take the seats at my left hand. "

Immediately a buzz of talk ran around that end of the gym. TheHigh School boys left their seats and moved about, talking overthe coach's few but pointed remarks. 

"How do you like Mr. Luce's idea, Dick?" asked Tom Reade. 

"It's good down to the ground, and all the way up again, " Dickretorted, enthusiastically. "His ideas are just the ideas I'mglad to hear put forward. No shirking; every effort bent on excelling, and every man to keep his own body as strong, clean and wholesomeas a body can be kept. Why, that alone is worth more than victory. It means a fellow's victory over all sloth and bad habits!"

"Luce meant all he said, too, and the fellows know he did, " declaredDave Darrin. "I wonder what effect it will have on the size ofthe squad?"

There was a good deal of curiosity on that score. The five minutespassed quickly. Then Coach Luce called for the division. Asthe new baseball squad gathered at the right-hand seats therewas an eager counting. 

"Forty-nine, " announced Greg Holmes, as soon as he had finishedcounting. "Five whole nines and a few extras left over. "

"I'm glad to see that Gridley High School grit is up to the oldstandard, " declared Coach Luce, cheerily, after he had broughtthem to order. "Our squad, this year, contains three more menthan appeared last year. It is plain that my threats haven'tscared anyone off the Gridley diamond. Now, I am going to writedown the names of the squad. Then I will ask each member, ashis name is called, to indicate the position for which he wishesto qualify. "

There was a buzz of conversation again, until the names had allbeen written down. Then, after Coach Luce had called for silence, he began to read off the names in alphabetical order. 

"Dalzell?" asked the coach, when he had gone that far down onthe list. 

"First base, " answered Dan, loudly and promptly. 

"Darrin?"

"Pitcher, " responded Dave. 

There was a little ripple of surprise. When a sophomore goesin for work in the box it is notice that he has a good opinionof his abilities. 

A few more names were called off. Then:

"Hazelton?"

"Short stop, " replied Harry, coolly. 

"Whew!" An audible gasp of surprise went up and traveled around. 

After the battery, the post of short stop is the swiftest thingfor which to reach out. 

"Holmes?"

"Left field. "

"It's plain enough, " sneered Fred Ripley to the fellow besidehim, "that Dick & Co. , reporters and raga-muffins, expect to betwo thirds of the nine. I wonder whom they'll allow to hold theother three positions?"

Several more names were called off. Then came:

"Prescott?"

"Pitcher, " Dick answered, quietly. 

A thrill of delight went through Fred. This was more luck thanhe had hoped for. What great delight there was going to be inbeating out Dick Prescott!

"Reade?"

"Second base. "

"Ripley?"

"P-p-pitcher!" Fred fairly stuttered in his eagerness to get theword out emphatically. In fact, the word left him so explosivelythat several of the fellows caught themselves laughing. 

"Oh, laugh, then, hang you all!" muttered Fred, in a low voice, glaring all around him. "But you don't know what you're laughingat. Maybe I won't show you something in the way of real pitching!"

"The first Tuesday after the holidays' vacation the squad willreport here for gymnastic work from three-thirty to five, " calledthe coach. "Now, I'll talk informally with any who wish to askquestions. "

Fred Ripley's face was aglow with satisfaction. His eyes fairlyglistened with his secret, inward triumph. 

"So you think you can pitch, Prescott?" he muttered to himself. "Humph! With the great Everett training me for weeks, I'llmake you look like a pewter monkey, Dick Prescott. "

CHAPTER VII

DAVE TALKS WITH ONE HAND

The next afternoon Fred and his father went over to Duxbridge. 

They found the great Everett at home, and not only at home, butwilling to take up with their proposal. 

The celebrated professional pitcher named a price that causedLawyer Ripley to hesitate for a few moments. Then catching theappealing look in his son's face, the elder Ripley agreed to theterms. The training was to be given at Duxbridge, in Everett'sbig and almost empty barn. 

That night Lawyer Ripley, a man of prompt habit in business, mailedhis check for the entire amount. 

Fred, in the privacy of his own room, danced several brief butexuberant jigs. 

"Now, I've got you, Dick Prescott! And I've not only got you, but if you come in second to me, I'll try to keep in such conditionthat I pitch every important game of the whole season!"

But the next morning the Ripley heir received a sad jolt. Inone of his text-books he ran across a piece of cardboard on whichwas printed, in coarse characters:

"Tuday, same plas, same time. Bring ten. Or don't, if you dare!"

"That infernal blackmailer, Tip Scammon!" flared Fred indignantly. 

In the courage of desperation Fred promptly decided that he wouldignore the Scammon rascal. Nor did Fred change his mind. Besides, this afternoon he was due at Duxbridge for his first lesson underthe mighty Everett. 

So Tip was on hand at the drug store beside the post office, butno Fred came. Tip scowled and hung about in the neighborhooduntil after four o'clock. Then he went away, a black look indeedon his not handsome face. 

Meanwhile, most of the people of Gridley, as elsewhere in theChristian world, were thinking of "Peace on Earth" and all thatgoes with it. The stores were radiant with decorations and thedisplay of gifts. The candy stores and hot soda places were doinga rushing business. 

Dick, who had been scurrying about in search of a few news paragraphs, and had found them, encountered Dave Darrin. Being somethingof a capitalist in these days, when "The Blade" was paying himtwo and a half to three dollars a week, Prescott invited his chumin to have a hot soda. While they were still in the place LauraBentley and Belle Meade entered. The High School boys liftedtheir hats courteously to the girls and Dick invited them to havetheir soda with Dave and himself. 

"We hear that baseball is going to be a matter of great enthusiasmduring the next few months, " said Laura, as they sipped theirsoda. 

"Yes; and the cause of no end of heartburnings and envies, " laughedPrescott. "From just after the holidays to some time in Aprilevery fellow will be busy trying to make the school team, andwill feel aggrieved if he hits only the second team. "

"Who's going to pitch for the school nine?" asked Belle. 

"Dick Prescott, " declared Dave instantly. 

"I'd like to, " nodded Dick, "but I've several good men againstme. Darrin may take it all away from me. There are eight mendown for pitching, altogether, so it isn't going to be an easycinch for anyone. "

"The nine always has more than one pitcher. Why can't _you_ makethe position of pitcher, too?" asked Belle, looking at Dave. 

"Oh, I may make the job of brevet-pitcher on the second nine, "Dave laughed goodhumoredly. "The only reason I put my name downfor pitcher was so as to make the fight look bigger. "

"Who are the other candidates for pitcher?" asked Laura. 

"Well, Ripley's one, " replied Dave. 

"Ripley? Oh, _he_!" uttered Miss Bentley, in a tone of scorn. 

"I understand he's no fool of a pitcher, " Dick remarked. 

"I congratulate him, then, " smiled Laura. 

"On what?"

"Not being a fool in everything, " returned Laura. Then she added, quickly:

"I'm afraid that expresses my real opinion, but I've no rightto say it. "

"There are two reasons why you shouldn't say it, " added Dave, gravely. 

"What are they?" Laura wanted to know. 

"First of all---well, pardon me, but it sounds like talking aboutanother behind his back. The other reason is that Ripley isn'tworth talking about, anyway. "

"Now, what are you doing?" demanded Belle. 

"Oh, well, " Dave replied, "Ripley knows my opinion of him pretty well. But what are you doing this afternoon?"

"We're going shopping, " Laura informed the boys as the quartetteleft the soda fountain. "Do you care to go around with us andlook at the displays in the stores?"

"That's about all shopping means, isn't it?" smiled Dick. "Justgoing around and looking at things?"

"Then if you don't care to come with us-----" pouted Miss Bentley. 

"Stop---please do, I beg of you, " Dick hastily added. "Of coursewe want to go. "

The two chums put in a very pleasant hour wandering about throughthe stores with the High School girls. Laura and Belle _did_make some small purchases of materials out of which they intendedto make gifts for the approaching holiday. 

As they came out of the last store they moved toward the corner, the girls intending to take a car to pay a little visit to anaunt of Laura's before the afternoon was over. 

Dick saw something in one of the windows at the corner and signedto Dave to come over. The two girls were left, momentarily, standingon the corner. 

While they stood thus Fred Ripley came along. His first lessonin pitching had been brief, the great Everett declining to tirethe boy's arm too much at the first drill. So young Ripley, aftera twelve-mile trip in the auto through the crisp December air, came swinging down the street at a brisk walk. 

Just as this moment he espied the two girls, though he did notsee Dick or Dave. Belle happened to turn as Ripley came nearher. 

"Hullo, Meade!" he called, patronizingly. 

It is a trick with some High School boys thus to address a girlstudent by her last name only, but it is not the act of a gentleman. Belle resented it by stiffening at once, and glancing coldlyat Ripley without greeting him. 

In another instant Dave Darrin, at a bound, stood before the astonishedFred. Dave's eyes were flashing in a way they were wont to dowhen he was thoroughly angry. 

"Ripley---you cur! To address a young woman in that familiarfashion!" glared Dave. 

"What have you to say about it?" demanded Fred, insolently. 

"This!" was Dave Darrin's only answer in words. 

Smack! His fist landed on one side of Fred's face. The latterstaggered, then slipped to the ground. 

"There's the car, Dick, " uttered Dave, in a low tone. "Put thegirls aboard. "

Half a dozen passers-by had already turned and were coming backto learn the meaning of this encounter. Dick understood how awkwardthe situation would be for the girls, so he glided forward, hailedthe car, and led Laura and Belle out to it. 

"But I'd rather stay, " whispered Belle, in protest. "I want tomake sure that Dave doesn't get into any trouble. "

"He won't, " Dick promised. "It'll save him annoyance if he knowsyou girls are not being stared at by curious rowdies. "

Dick quickly helped the girls aboard the car, then nodded to theconductor to ring the bell. A second later Dick was boundingback to his chum's side. 

Fred Ripley was on his feet, scowling at Dave Darrin. The latter, though his fists were not up, was plainly in an attitude wherehe could quickly defend himself. 

"That was an unprovoked assault, you rowdy!" Fred exclaimed wrathfully. 

"I'd trust to any committee of _gentlemen_ to exonerate me, " Daveanswered coolly. "You acted the rowdy, Ripley, and you'd showmore sense if you admitted it and reformed. "

"What did he do?" demanded one of the curious ones in the crowd. 

"He addressed a young lady with offensive familiarity, " Dave repliedhotly. 

"What did _you_ do?" demanded another in the crowd. 

"I knocked him down, " Dave admitted coolly. 

"Well, that's about the proper thing to do, " declared anotherbystander. "The Ripley kid has no kick coming to him. Move on, young feller!"

Fred started, glaring angrily at the speaker. But half a dozenpressed forward about him. Ripley's face went white with ragewhen he found himself being edged off the sidewalk into the gutter. 

"Get back, there, you, and leave me alone!" he ordered, hoarsely. 

A laugh from the crowd was the first answer. Then some one gavethe junior a shove that sent him spinning out into the street. 

Ripley darted by the crowd now, his caution and his dread of toomuch of a scene coming to his aid. Besides, some one had justcalled out, banteringly:

"Why not take him to the horse trough?"

That decided Fred on quick retreat. Ducked, deservedly, by acrowd on Main Street, Ripley could never regain real standingin the High School, and he knew that. 

As soon as they could Dick and Dave walked on to "The Blade" office. Here Darrin took a chair in the corner, occasionally glancingalmost enviously at Prescott, as the latter, seated at a reporter'stable, slowly wrote the few little local items that he had pickedup during the afternoon. When Dick had finished he handed his"copy" to Mr. Pollock, and the chums left the office. 

"Dick, old fellow, " hinted Dave, confidentially, "I'm afraid Iought to give you a tip, even though it does make me feel somethinglike a spy. "

"Under such circumstances, " smiled Prescott, "it might be wellto think twice before giving the tip. "

"I've thought about it _seventeen_ times already, " Dave asserted, gravely, "and you're my chum, anyway. So here goes. When wewere in the department store, do you remember that the girlswere looking over some worsteds, or yarns, or whatever you callthe stuff?"

"Yes, " Prescott nodded. 

"Well, I couldn't quite help hearing Laura Bentley say to Bellethat the yarn she picked up was just what she wanted for you. "

"What on earth did that mean?" queried Dick, looking almost startled. 

"It means that you're going to get a Christmas present from Laura, "Dave answered. 

"But I never had a present from a girl before!"

"Most anything is likely to happen, " laughed Dave, "now that you'rea sophomore---and a reporter, too. "

"Thank goodness I'm earning a little money now, " murmured Dick, breathing a bit rapidly. "But, say, Dave!"

"Well?"

"What on earth does one give a girl at Christmas?"

"Tooth-powder, scented soap, ribbons---oh, hang it! I don't know, "floundered Dave hopelessly. "Anyway, I don't have to know. It'syour scrape, Dick Prescott!"

"Yours, too, Dave Darrin!"

"What do you mean?"

"Why, I saw Belle buying some of that yarny stuff, too. "

"Great Scott!" groaned Dave. "Say, what do you suppose they'replanning to put up on us for a Christmas job? Some of thosebig-as-all-outdoors, wobbly, crocheted slippers?"

CHAPTER VIII

HUH? WOOLLY CROCHETED SLIPPERS

The night before Christmas Dick Prescott attended a ball, in hisnew capacity of reporter. 

Being young, also "green" in the ways of newspaper work, he imaginedit his duty to remain rather late in order to be sure that hehad all the needed data for the brief description that he wasto write for "The Blade. "

Christmas morning the boy slept late, for his parents did notcall him. When, at last, Dick did appear in the dining room hefound some pleasing gifts from his father and mother. When hehad sufficiently examined them, Mrs. Prescott smiled as she said:

"Now, step into the parlor, Richard, and you'll find somethingthat came for you this morning. "

"But, first of all, mother, I've something for you and Dad. "

Dick went back into his room, bringing out, with some pride, asilver-plated teapot on a tray of the same material. It wasn'tmuch, but it was the finest gift he had ever been able to makehis parents. He came in for a good deal of thanks and other wordsof appreciation. 

"But you're forgetting the package in the parlor, " persisted Mrs. Prescott presently. 

Dick nodded, and hurried in, thinking to himself:

"The worsted slippers from the girls, I suppose. "

To his surprise the boy found Dave Darrin sitting in the room, while, on a chair near by rested a rather bulky package. 

After exchanging "Merry Christmas" greetings with Darrin, Dickturned to look at the package. To it was tied a card, which read:

"From Laura Bentley and Isabelle Meade, with kindest Christmasgreetings. "

"That doesn't look like slippers, Dave, " murmured Dick, as hepulled away the cord that bound the package. 

"I'll bet you're getting a duplicate of what came to me, " Darrinanswered. 

"What was that?"

"I'm not going to tell you until I see yours. "

Dick quickly had the wrapper off, unfolding something woolleny. 

"That's it!" cried Dave, jubilantly. "I thought so. Mine wasthe same, except that Belle's name was ahead of Laura's on thecard. "

Dick felt almost dazed for an instant. Then a quick rush of colorcame to his face. 

The object that he held was a bulky, substantial, woven "sweater. "Across the front of it had been worked, in cross-stitch, theinitials, "G. H. S. "

"Gridley High School! Did you get one just like this, Dave?"

"Yes. "

"But we can't wear 'em, " muttered Dick. "The initials are allowedonly to the students who have made some school team, or who havecaptured some major athletic event. We've never done either. "

"That's just the point of the gift, I reckon, " beamed Darrin. 

"Oh, I see, " cried Dick. "These sweaters are our orders to goahead and make the baseball nine. "

"That's just it, " declared Dave. 

"Well, it's mighty fine of the girls, " murmured Dick, gratefully. "Are you---going to accept yours, Dave?"

"Accept?" retorted Dave. "Why, it would be rank not to. "

"Of course, " Prescott agreed. . "But you know what acceptancecarries with it? Now, we've got to make the nine, whether ornot. We pledge ourselves to that in accepting these fine gifts. "

"Oh, that's all right, " nodded Dave, cheerily. "You're goingto make the team. "

"If there's any power in me to do it, " declared Dick. 

"And you're going to drag me in after you. Dick, old fellow, we've absolutely as good as promised that we will make the nine. "

Dick Prescott was now engaged in pulling the sweater over hishead. This accomplished, he stood surveying himself in the glass. 

"Gracious! But this is fine, " gasped young Prescott. "And now, oh, Dave, but we've got to hustle! Think how disgusted the girlswill be if we fail. "

"We can't fail, now, " declared Dave earnestly. "The girls, andthe sweaters themselves, are our mascots against failure. "

"Good! That's the right talk!" cheered Prescott, seizing hischum's hand. "Yes, sir! We'll make the nine or bury ourselvesunder a shipload of self-disgust!"

"Both of the girls must have a hand in each sweater, " Dave wenton, examining Dick's closely. "I can't see a shade of differencebetween yours and mine. But I'm afraid the other fellows in Dick& Co. Will feel just a bit green with envy over our good luck. "

"It's a mighty fine gift, " Dick went on, "yet I'm almost inclinedto wish the girls hadn't done it. It must have made a big inroadin their Christmas money. "

"That's so, " nodded Darrin, thoughtfully. "But say, Dick! I'mthundering glad I got wind of this before it happened. Thankgoodness we didn't have to leave the girls out. Though we wouldhave missed if it hadn't been for you. "

"I wonder how the girls like their gifts?" mused Dick. 

It was sheer good luck that had enabled these youngsters to makea good showing. A new-style device for women, consisting of heaterand tongs for curling the hair, was on the market this year. Electric current was required for the heater, but both Laura andBelle had electric light service in their homes. This new-styledevice was one of the fads of this Christmas season. The retailprice was eight dollars per outfit, and a good many had been soldbefore the holidays. The advertising agent for the manufacturingconcern had been in town, and had presented "The Blade" with twoof these devices. Despite the eight-dollar price, the devicescost only a small fraction of that amount to manufacture, so theadvertising agent had not been extremely generous in leaving thepair. 

"What on earth shall we do with them?" grunted Pollock, in Dick'shearing. "We're all bachelors here. "

"Sell 'em to me, if you don't want 'em, " spoke up Dick, quickly. "What'll you take for 'em? Make it low, to fit a schoolboy'sshallow purse. "

"Hm! I'll speak to the proprietor about it, " replied Pollock, who presently brought back the word:

"As they're for you, Dick, the proprietor says you can take thepair for two-fifty. And if you're short of cash, I'll take fiftycents a week out of your space bill until the amount is paid. "

"Fine and dandy!" uttered Dick, his eyes glowing. 

"One's for your mother, " hinted Mr. Pollock teasingly. "_Butwho's the girl_?"

"Two girls, " Dick corrected him, unabashed. "My mother neveruses hair-curlers. "

"_Two girls_?" cried Mr. Pollock, looking aghast. "Dick! Dick!You study history at the High School, don't you?"

"Yes, sir; of course. "

"Then don't you know, my boy, how often _two girls_ have alteredthe fates of whole nations? Tremble and be wise!"

"I haven't any girl, " Dick retorted, sensibly, "and I think afellow is weak-minded to talk about having a girl until he canalso talk authoritatively on the ability to support a wife. Butthere's a good deal of social life going on at the High School, Mr. Pollock, and I'm very, very glad of this chance to cancelmy obligations so cheaply and at the same time rather handsomely. "

So Laura and Belle had each received, that Christmas morning, a present that proved a source of delight. 

"Yet I didn't expect the foolish boys to send me anything likethis, " Laura told herself, rather regretfully. "I'm sure they'vepledged their pocket money for weeks on this. "

When Belle called, it developed that she had received an identicalgift. 

"It's lovely of the boys, " Belle admitted. "But it's foolish, too, for they've had to use their pocket money away ahead, I'mcertain. "

Dick and Dave had sent their gifts, as had the girls, in bothnames. 

Christmas was a day of rejoicing among all of the High Schoolstudents except the least-favored ones. 

Fred Ripley, however, spent his Christmas day in a way differingfrom the enjoyments of any of the others. A new fever of energyhad seized the young man. In his fierce determination to carryaway the star pitchership, especially from Dick Prescott, Ripleyemployed even Christmas afternoon by going over to Duxbridgeand taking another lesson in pitching from the great Everett. 

CHAPTER IX

FRED PITCHES A BOMBSHELL INTO TRAINING CAMP

"One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!

"Halt! Rest!"

"Attention! Overhead to front and back. Commence! One, two, three, four!"

Coach Luce's voice rang out in a solid, carrying tone of militarycommand. 

The baseball squad was hard at work in the gymnasium, perspiringeven though the gym. Was not heated above fifty degrees. 

Dumb-bell drill was going off with great snap. It was followedby work with the Indian clubs. Then, after a brief rest, theentire squad took to the track in the gallery. For ten minutesthe High School young men jogged around the track. Any fellowin the lot would have been ashamed to drop out, short of breath. 

As a matter of fact, no one was out of breath. Mr. Luce was whatthe boys called a "griller, " and he certainly knew all about whippinga lot of youngsters into fine physical shape. 

This training work was now along in the third week of the newwinter term. 

Three times weekly the squad had been assembled. On other daysof the week, the young men were pledged to outside running, whenthe roads permitted, and to certain indoor work at other times. 

Every member of the big squad now began to feel "hard as nails. "Slight defects in breathing had been corrected; lung-power hadbeen developed, and backs that ached at first, from the work, had now grown too well seasoned to ache. Every member of thesquad was conscious of a new, growing muscular power. Hard, bumpymuscles were not being cultivated. The long, smooth, lithe andactive "Indian" muscle, built more for endurance than for greatstrength, was the ideal of Coach Luce. 

After the jogging came a halt for rest. Luce now addressed them. 

"Young gentlemen, I know, well enough, that, while all this workis good for you, you're all of you anxious to see the productionof the regular League ball on this floor. Now, the baseball cagewill not be put up for a few days yet. However, this afternoon, for the rest of our tour, I'm going to produce the ball!"

A joyous "hurrah!" went up from the squad. The ball was the realthing in their eyes. 

Coach Luce turned away to one of the spacious cupboard lockers, returning with a ball, still in the sealed package, and a batwith well wrapped handle. 

"I'll handle the bat, " announced Mr. Luce, smiling. "It's justbarely possible that I, can drive a good liner straighter thansome of you, and put it nearer where I want it. Until the cageis in place, I don't like to risk smashing any of the gymnasiumwindows. Now, which one of you pitchers is ambitious to do something?"

Naturally, all of them were. Yet none liked to appear too forwardor greedy, so silence followed. 

"I'll try you modest young men out on my own lines, then, " laughedthe coach. Calling to one of the juniors to stand behind himas catcher, Luce continued:

"Darrin, as you're a candidate for pitcher, show us some of thethings you can do to fool a batsman. "

Dave took his post, his face a bit red. He handled the ball fora few moments, rather nervously. 

"Don't get rattled, lad, " counseled the coach. "Remember, thisis just fun. Bear in mind that you're aiming to send the ballin to the catcher. Don't let the ball drive through a windowby mistake. "

A laugh went up at this. Dave, instead of losing his nerve, flashedback at the squad, then steadied himself. 

"Now, then, let her drive---not too hard, " ordered Mr. Luce. 

Dave let go with what he thought was an outcurve. It didn't foolthe coach. He deliberately struck the ball, sending it rollingalong the floor as a grounder. 

"A little more twist to the wrist, Darrin, " counseled the coach, after a scout from the squad had picked up the ball and sent itto this budding pitcher. 

Dave's next delivery was struck down as easily. Then Darrin beganto grow a bit angry and much more determined. 

"Don't feel put out, Darrin, " counseled the coach. "I had thebatting record of my college when I was there, and I'm in bettertrim and nerve than you are yet. Don't be discouraged. "

Soon Dave was making a rather decent showing. 

"I'll show you later, Darrin, a little more about the way to turnthe hand in the wrist twist, " remarked the coach, as he let Davego. "You'll soon have the hang of the thing. Now, Prescott, you step into the imaginary box, if you please. "

Dick took to an inshoot. His first serve was as easily cloutedas Dave's had been. After that, by putting on a little more steam, and throwing in a good deal more calculation, Dick got three successiveballs by Mr. Luce. At two of these, coach had struck. 

"You're going to do first-rate, Prescott, by the time we get outdoors, I think;" Mr. Luce announced. "I shall pay particular attentionto your wrist work. "

"I'm afraid I showed up like a lout, " whispered Dave, as Dickrejoined his chums. 

"No, you didn't, " Dick retorted. "You showed what all of usshow---that you need training to get into good shape. That'swhat the coach is working with us for. "

"I'm betting on you and Dick for the team, " put in Tom Reade, quickly. 

"Dick will make it, and I think you will, too, Dave, " added HarryHazelton. 

"I wish I were as sure for myself, " muttered Greg Holmes, plaintively. 

"Oh, well, if I can't make the team, " grinned Dan Dalzell, "I'mgoing to stop this work and go in training as a mascot. "

"Look at the fellow who always carries Luck in his pocket!" gibedHazelton, good-humoredly. 

Coach Luce was now calling off several names rapidly. These youngmen were directed to scatter on the gym. Floor. To one of themMr. Luce tossed the ball. 

"Now, then, " shot out Luce's voice, "this is for quick understandingand judgment. Whoever receives the ball will throw it withoutdelay to anyone I name. So post yourselves on where each otherman stands. I want fast work, and I want straight, accurate work. But no amount of speed will avail, unless the accuracy is there. _And vice versa_!"

For five minutes this was kept up, with a steam engine idea ofrapidity of motion. Many were the fumbles. A good deal of laughtercame from the sides of the gym. 

"Myself!" shouted Luce, just as one of the players received theball. The young man with the ball looked puzzled for an instant. Then, when too late to count, the young man understood and drovethe ball for the coach. 

"Not quick enough on judgment, " admonished Mr. Luce. "Now, we'lltake another look at the style of an ambitious pitcher or two. Ripley, suppose you try?"

Fred started and colored. Next, he looked pleased with himselfas he strode jauntily forward. 

"May I ask for my own catcher, sir?" Fred asked. 

"Yes; certainly, " nodded the coach. 

"Rip must have something big up his sleeve, if any old dub ofa catcher won't do, " jeered some one at the back of the crowd. 

"Attention! Rip, the ladylike twirler!" sang out another teasingstudent. 

"Let her rip, Rip!"

A good many were laughing. Fred was not popular. Many toleratedhim, and some of the boys treated him with a fair amount ofcomradeship. Yet the lawyer's son was no prime favorite. 

"Order!" rapped out the coach, sharply. "This is training work. You'll find the minstrel show, if that's what you want, at theopera house next Thursday night. "

"How well the coach keeps track of minstrel shows!" called anothergibing voice. 

"That was you, Parkinson!" called Mr. Luce, with mock severity. "Run over and harden your funny-bone on the punching bag. Runalong with you, now!"

Everybody laughed, except Parkinson, who grinned sheepishly. 

"Training orders, Parkinson!" insisted the coach. "Trot rightover and let the funny-bone of each arm drive at the bag fortwenty-five times. Hurry up. We'll watch you. "

So Mr. Parkinson, of the junior class, seeing that the order wasa positive one, had the good sense to obey. He "hardened" thefunny-bone of either arm against the punching bag to the tuneof jeering laughter from the rest of the squad. That was CoachLuce's way of dealing with the too-funny amateur humorist. 

Fred, meantime, had selected his own catcher, and had whisperedsome words of instruction to him. 

"Now, come on, Ripley, " ordered Mr. Luce, swinging his bat overan imaginary plate. "Let her come in about as you want to. "

"He's going to try a spit ball, " muttered several, as they sawFred moisten his fingers. 

"That's a hard one for a greenhorn to put over, " added another. 

Fred took his place with a rather confident air; he had been drillingat Duxbridge for some weeks now. 

Then, with a turn of his body, Ripley let the ball go off of hisfinger tips. Straight and rather slowly it went toward the plate. It looked like the easiest ball that had been sent in so far. Coach Luce, with a calculating eye, watched it come, moving hisbat ever so little. Then he struck. But the spit ball, havingtraveled to the hitting point, dropped nearly twenty inches. The bat fanned air, and the catcher, crouching just behind thecoach, gathered in the ball. 

Luce was anything but mortified. A gleam of exultation lit uphis eyes as he swung the bat exultantly over his head. In a swiftoutburst of old college enthusiasm he forgot most of his dignityas a submaster. 

"_Wow_!" yelled the coach. "That was a _bird_! A lulu-coolerand a scalp-taker! Ripley, I reckon you're the new cop that runsthe beat!"

It took the High School onlookers a few seconds to gather thefull importance of what they had seen. Then a wild cheer brokeloose:

"Ripley? Oh, Ripley'll pitch for the nine!" surged up on allsides. 

CHAPTER X

DICK & CO. TAKE A TURN AT FEELING GLUM

"What's the matter with Ripley?" yelled one senior. 

And another answered, hoarsely:

"Nothing! He's a wonder!"

Fred Ripley was unpopular. He was regarded as a cad and a sneak. But he could pitch ball! He could give great aid in bringingan unbroken line of victories to Gridley. That was enough. 

By now Coach Luce was a bit red in the face. He realized thathis momentary relapse into the old college enthusiasm had madehim look ridiculous, in his other guise of High School submaster. 

But when the submaster coach turned and saw Parkinson buttinghis head against the punching bag he called out:

"What's the matter, Parkinson?"

"Subbing for you, sir!"

That turned the good-natured laugh of a few on Mr. Luce. Mostof those present, however, had not been struck by the unusualnessof his speech. 

Dick and Dave looked hard at each other. Both boys wanted tomake the team as pitchers. Yet now it seemed most certain thatFred Ripley must stand out head and shoulders over any othercandidates for the Gridley box. 

Dick's face shone with enthusiasm, none the less. If he couldn'tmake the nine this year, he could at least feel that Gridley HighSchool was already well on toward the lead over all competingschool nines. 

"I wish it were somebody else, " muttered Dave, huskily, in hischum's ear. 

"Gridley is fixed for lead, anyway, " replied Dick, "if Ripleycan always keep in such form as that. "

"Can Ripley do it again?" shouted one Gridley senior. 

"Try it, and see, Ripley, " urged Mr. Luce, again swinging hisbat. 

Fred had been holding the returned ball for a minute or two. His face was flushed, his eyes glowing. Never before had he madesuch a hit among his schoolmates. It was sweet, at last, to tastethe pleasures of local fame. 

He stood gazing about him, drinking in the evident delight ofthe High School boys. In fact he did not hear the coach's orderuntil it came again. 

"Try another one, Ripley!"

The young man moistened his fingers, placing the ball carefully. Of a sudden his arm shot out. Again the coach struck for whatlooked a fair ball, yet once more Mr. Luce fanned air and thecatcher straightened up, ball in hand. 

Pumph! The lazily thrown ball landed in Ripley's outstretchedleft. He moistened his fingers, wet the ball, and let drivealmost instantly. For the third time Mr. Luce fanned out. 

Then Fred spoke, in a tone of satisfied self-importance:

"Coach, that's all I'll do this afternoon, if you don't mind. "

"Right, " nodded Mr. Luce. "You don't want to strain your workbefore you've really begun it any other candidates for pitchingwant to have a try now?"

As the boys of the squad waited for an answer, a low laugh beganto ripple around the gym. The very idea of any fellow tryingafter Ripley had made his wonderful showing was wholly funny!

Coach Luce called out the names of another small squad to scatterover the gym. And to throw the ball to anyone he named. Exceptfor the few who were in this forced work, no attention was paidto the players. 

Fred Ripley had walked complacently to one side of the gym. Anoisy, gleeful group formed around him. 

"Rip, where did you ever learn that great work?"

"Who taught you?"

"Say, how long have you been hiding that thousand-candle-powerlight under a bushel?"

"Rip, it was the greatest work I ever saw a boy do. "

"Will you show me---after the nine has been made up, of course?"

"How did you ever get it down so slick?"

This was all meat to the boy who had long been unpopular. 

"I always was a pretty fair pitcher, wasn't I?" asked Fred. 

"Yes; but never anything like the pitcher you showed us to-day, "glowed eager Parkinson. 

"I've been doing a good deal of practicing and study since theclose of last season, " Fred replied importantly. "I've studiedout a lot of new things. I shan't show them all, either, untilthe real season begins. "

Fred's glance, in roaming around, took in Dick & Co. For once, these six very popular sophomores had no one else around them. 

"Whew! I think I've taken some wind out of the sails of Mr. Self-satisfied Prescott, " Fred told himself jubilantly. "We shan'thear so much about Dick & Co. For a few months!"

"Well, anyway, Dick, " said Tom Reade, "you and Dave needn't feeltoo badly. If Ripley turns out to be the nine's crack pitcher, the nine also carries two relief pitchers. You and Dave havea chance to be the relief pitchers. _That_ will make the ninefor you both, anyway. But, then, that spitball may be the onlything Ripley knows. "

"Don't fool yourself, " returned Prescott, shaking his head. "IfRipley can do that one so much like a veteran, then he knows otherstyles of tossing, too. I'm glad for Gridley High School---mightyglad. I wouldn't mind on personal grounds, either, if only---if-----"

"If Fred Ripley were only a half decent fellow, " Harry Hazeltonfinished for him. 

Coach Luce soon dismissed the squad for the day. A few minuteslater the boys left the gym. In groups. Of course the pitchingthey had seen was the sole theme. Ripley didn't have to walkaway alone to-day. Coach Luce and a dozen of the boys steppedalong with him in great glee. 

"It's Rip! Old Rip will be the most talked about fellow in anyHigh School league this year, " Parkinson declared, enthusiastically. 

Even the fellows who actually despised Fred couldn't help theirjubilation. Gridley was strong in athletics just because of thereal old Gridley High School spirit. Gridley's boys always playedto win. They made heroes of the fellows who could lead them tovictory after victory. 

Fred was far on his way home ere the last boy had left him. 

"I'll get everything in sight now, " Ripley told himself, in ecstasy, as he turned in at the gateway to his home. "Why, even if Prescottdoes get into the relief box, I can decide when he shall or shallnot pitch. I'll never see him get a _big_ game to pitch in. Oh, but this blow to-day has hurt Dick Prescott worse than a blowover the head with an iron stake could. I've wiped him up andput him down again. I've made him feel sick and ashamed of hispuny little inshoot! Prescott, you're mine to do as I pleasewith on this year's nine---if you can make it at all!"

In truth, though young Prescott kept a smiling face, and talkedcheerily, he could hardly have been more cast down than he was. Dick always went into any sport to win and lead, and he had sethis heart on being Gridley's best man in the box. But now-----

Dick & Co. All felt that they needed the open air after the grillingand the surprise at the gym. So they strolled, together, on MainStreet, for nearly an hour ere they parted and went home to supper. 

The next day the talk at school was mostly about Ripley, or "Rip, "as he was now more intimately called. 

Even the girls took more notice of him. Formerly Fred hadn'tbeen widely popular among them. But now, as the coming star ofthe High School nine, and a new wonder in the school firmament, he had a new interest for them. 

Half the girls, or more, were "sincere fans" at the ball games. Baseball was so much of a craze among them that these girls didn'thave to ask about the points of the game. They knew the diamondand most of its rules. 

Incense was sweet to the boy to whom it had so long been denied, but of course it turned "Rip's" head. 

CHAPTER XI

THE THIRD PARTY'S AMAZEMENT

Eleven o'clock pealed out from the steeple of the nearest church. 

The night was dark. Rain or snow was in the air. 

In a shadow across the street hung Tip Scammon. His shabby capwas pulled down over his eyes, his hands thrust deep into thepockets of his ragged reefer. Tip's eyes were turned toward theRipley home opposite. 

"To think o' that feller in a fine, warm, soft bed nights, an'all the swell stuff to eat at table!" muttered Tip, enviously. "And then me, out in the cold, wearing a tramp's clothes! Neversure whether to-morrer has a meal comin' with it! But, anyway, I can make that Ripley kid dance when I pull the string! He dancespretty tolerable frequent, too! He's got to do it to-night, an'he'd better hurry up some!"

Soon after the sound of the striking clock had died away, Tip'skeen eyes saw a figure steal around one side of the house fromthe rear. 

"Here comes Rip, now. He's on time, " thought Tip. "Huh! It'sa pity---fer---him that he wouldn't take a new think an' chaseme. But he's like most pups that hire other folks to do theirtough work---they hain't 't got no nerve o' their own. "

Fred came stealthily out of the yard, after looking back at thehouse. He went straight up to young Scammon. 

"So here ye are, pal, " laughed Tip. "Glad ye didn't keep me waitin'. Ye brought the wherewithal?"

"See here, Tip, you scoundrel, " muttered Fred, hoarsely, a worriedlook showing in his eyes, "I'm getting plumb down to the bottomof anything I can get for you. "

"I told ye to bring twenty, " retorted young Scammon, abruptly. "That will be enough. "

"I couldn't get it, " muttered Fred. 

"Now, see here, pal, " warned Tip, threateningly, "don't try topull no roots on me. Ye can get all the money ye want. "

"I couldn't this time, " Fred contended, stubbornly. "I've goteleven dollars, and that's every bit I could get my hands on. "

"But I've _got_ to have twenty, " muttered Tip, fiercely. "Now, ye trot back and look through yer Sunday-best suit. You havemoney enough; yer father's rich, an' he gives ye a lot. Now, ye've no business spendin' any o' that money until ye've paidme what's proper comin' to me. So back to the house with ye, and get the rest o' yer money!"

"It's no use, Tip. I simply can't get another dollar. Here'sthe eleven, and you'd better be off with it. I can't get anymore, either, inside of a fortnight. "

"See here, " raged young Scammon, "if ye think ye can play-----"

"Take this money and get off, " demanded Fred, impatiently. "I'mgoing back home and to bed. "

"I guess, boy, it's about time fer me to see your old man, " blusteredTip. "If I hold off until to-morrer afternoon, will ye have theother nine, an' an extry dollar fer me trouble?"

"No, " rasped Fred. "It's no use at all---not for another fortnight, anyway. Good night!"

Turning, Fred sped across the street and back under the shadowsat the rear of the lawyer's great house. 

"I wonder if the younker's gettin' wise?" murmured Tip. "He ain'tsmart enough to know that fer him to go to his old man an' tellthe whole yarn 'ud be cheapest in the run. The old man 'ud bemad at Rip, but the old man's a lawyer, an' 'ud know how to laydown the blackmail law to me!"

Feeling certain that he was wholly alone by this time, Tip hadspoken the words aloud or sufficiently so for him to be hearda few feet away by any lurker. 

Shivering a bit, for he was none too warmly clad, young Scammonturned, making his way up the street. 

Fully two minutes after Tip had gone his way Dick Prescott steppedout from behind the place where Tip had been standing. 

There was a queer and rather puzzled look on Dick's face. 

"So Fred's paying Tip money, and Tip knows it's blackmail?" mutteredthe sophomore. "That can mean just one thing then. When Tipheld his tongue before and at his trial, last year, he was lookingahead to the time when he could extort money by threatening Fred. And now Tip's doing it. That must be the way he gets his living. Whew, but Ripley must be allowed a heap of spending money ifhe can stand that sort of drain!"

How Dick came to be on hand at the time can be easily explained. Earlier in the evening he had been at "The Blade" office. Mr. Pollock had asked him to go out on a news story that could beobtained by calling upon a citizen at his home. The story wouldbe longer than Dick usually succeeded in turning in. It lookedattractive to a boy who wanted to earn money, so the sophomoreeagerly accepted the assignment. 

As it happened, Dick had had to wait a long time at the houseat which he called before the man he wanted to see returned home. Dick was on his way to "The Blade" office when he caught sightof Tip Scammon. The latter did not see or hear the sophomoreapproaching. 

So Dick halted, darting behind a tree. 

"Now, what's Tip doing down here, near the Ripley place?" wonderedPrescott. "He must be waiting to see Fred. Then they must havean appointment. Dave always thought that Tip ambushed me withthose brickbats at Fred Ripley's order. There may be somethingof that sort in the wind again. I guess I've got a right to listen. "

Looking about him, Prescott saw a chance to slip into a yard, get over a fence, and creep up rather close to Scammon, thoughstill being hidden from that scoundrel. At last Prescott foundhimself well hidden in the yard behind Tip. 

So Dick heard the talk. Now, as he hurried back to "The Blade"office the young soph guessed shrewdly at the meaning of whathe had heard. 

"Now, what had I better do about it?" Dick Prescott asked himself. "What's the fair and honorable thing to do---keep quiet? Itwould seem a bit sneaky to go and tell Lawyer Ripley. Shall Itell Fred? I wonder if I could make him understand how foolishand cowardly it is to go on paying for a blackmailer's silence?Yet it's ten to one that Fred wouldn't thank me. Oh, botherit, what had a fellow better do in a case like this?"

A moment later, Dick laughed dryly. 

"I know one thing I could do. I could go to Fred, tell him whatI know, and scare him so he'd fall down in his effort to becomethe crack pitcher of the nine! My, but he'd go all to piecesif he thought I knew and could tell on him!"

Dick chuckled, then his face sobered, as he added:

"Fred's safe from that _trick_, though. I couldn't stand a glimpseof my own face in the mirror, afterward, if I did such a low pieceof business. "

Prescott was still revolving the whole thing in his mind whenhe reached "The Blade" office. He turned in the news story hebad been sent for. As he did so the news editor looked up toremark:

"We have plenty of room to spare in the paper to-night, Prescott. "

"Yes? Well?"

"Can't you give us a few paragraphs of real High School news?Something about the state of athletics there?"

"Why, yes, of course, " the young sophomore nodded. 

Returning to the desk where he had been sitting, Dick ran offa few paragraphs on the outlook of the coming High School baseballseason. 

"Did you write that High School baseball stuff in this morning'spaper, Dick?" asked Tom Reade, the next day. 

"Yes. "

"You said that the indications are that Ripley will be the crackpitcher this season, and that he is plainly going to be far aheadof all the other box candidates. "

"That's correct, isn't it?" challenged Dick. 

"It looks so, of course, " Tom admitted. "But why did you giveRipley such a boost? He's no friend of yours, or ours. "

"Newspapers are published for the purpose of giving information, "Dick explained. "If a newspaper's writers all wrote just to pleasethemselves and their friends, how many people do you suppose wouldbuy the daily papers? Fred Ripley is the most prominent box candidatewe have. He towers away over the rest of us. That was why Iso stated it in 'The Blade. '"

"And I guess that's the only right way to do things when you'rewriting for the papers, " agreed Darrin. 

"It's a pity you can't print some other things about Ripley thatyou know to be true, " grumbled Hazelton. 

"True, " agreed Dick, thoughtfully. "I'm only a green, amateurreporter, but I've already learned that a reporter soon knowsmore than he can print. "

Prescott was thinking of the meeting he had witnessed, the nightbefore, between Fred and Tip. 

After sleeping on the question for the night, Dick had decidedthat he would say nothing of the matter, for the present, eitherto the elder or the younger Ripley. 

"If Fred found out that I knew all about it, he'd be sure thatI was biding my time, " was what Dick had concluded. "He'd besure that I was only waiting for the best chance to expose him. On the other hand, if I cautioned his father, there'd be an awfulrow at the Ripley home. Either way, Fred Ripley would go to pieces. He'd lose what little nerve he ever had. After that he'd beno good at pitching. He'd go plumb to pieces. That might leaveme the chance to be Gridley's crack pitcher this year. Oh, I'dlike to be the leading pitcher of the High School nine! But Idon't want to win the honor in any way that I'm not positive iswholly square and honorable. "

Then, after a few moments more of thought:

"Besides, I'm loyal to good old Gridley High School. I want tosee our nine have the best pitcher it can get---no matter whohe is!"

By some it might be argued that Dick Prescott was under a moralobligation to go and caution Lawyer Ripley. But Dick hated talebearers. He acted up to the best promptings of his own best conscience, which is all any honorable man can do. 

CHAPTER XII

TRYING OUT THE PITCHERS

"Oh, you Rip!"

"Good boy, Rip!"

"You're the winning piece of leather, Rip!"

"Get after him, Dick!"

"Wait till you see Prescott!"

"And don't you forget Dave Darrin, either!" Late in March, itwas the biggest day of Spring out at the High School AthleticField. 

This field, the fruit of the labors of the Alumni Associationfor many years, was a model one even in the best of High Schooltowns. 

The field, some six acres in extent, lay well outside the cityproper. It was a walled field, laid out for football, baseball, cricket and field and track sports. In order that even the HighSchool girls might have a strong sense of ownership in it, thefield also contained two croquet grounds, well laid out. 

Just now, the whole crowd was gathered at the sides of the diamond. Hundreds were perched up on one of the stands for spectators. 

Down on the diamond stood the members of the baseball squad. As far as the onlookers could see, every one of the forty-oddyoung men was in the pink of physical condition. The indoor traininghad been hard from the outset. Weeks of cage work had been gonethrough with in the gym. But from this day on, whenever it didn'train too hard, the baseball training work was to take place onthe field. 

Coach Luce now stepped out of the little building in which werethe team dressing rooms. As he went across the diamond he wasfollowed by lusty cheers from High School boys up on the spectators'seats. The girls clapped their hands, or waved handkerchiefs. A few already carried the gold and crimson banners of Gridley. Besides the High School young people, there were a few hundredolder people, who had come out to see what the youngsters weredoing. 

For this was the day on which the pitchers were to be tried out. Ripley was known to be the favorite in all the guessing. Infact, there wasn't any guessing. Some, however, believed thatDick, and possibly Dave, might be chosen as the relief pitchers. 

Dick himself looked mighty solemn, as he stood by, apparentlyseeing but little of what was going on. Beside him stood Dave. The other four chums were not far off. 

Another wild howl went up from the High School contingent whentwo more men were seen to leave the dressing room building andwalk out toward Coach Luce. These were two members of the AthleticCommittee, former students at Gridley High School. These twowere to aid the coach in choosing the men for the school team. They would also name the members of the school's second team. 

"Now, we'll try you out on pitching, if you're ready, " announcedMr. Luce, turning to a member of the junior class. The youngfellow grinned half-sheepishly, but was game. He ran over tothe box, after nodding to the catcher he had chosen. Luce tookthe bat and stood by the home plate. To-day the coach did notintend to strike at any of the balls, but he and the two membersof the Athletic Committee would judge, and award marks to thecandidates. 

"Oh, we don't want the dub! Trot out Rip!" came a roaring chorus. 

Coach Luce, however, from this time on, paid no heed to the shoutsor demands of spectators. 

The candidate for box honors now displayed all he knew about pitching, though some nervousness doubtless marred his performance. 

"Now, run out Rip!" came the insistent chorus again, after thiscandidate had shown his curves and had gone back. 

But it was another member of the junior class who came to thebox for the next trial. 

"Dead ball! Throw wild and cut it short!" came the advice fromthe seats. 

Then a sophomore was tried out. But the crowd was becoming highlyimpatient. 

"We want Rip! We demand Rip. Give us Rip or give us chloroform!"came the insistent clamor. "We'll come another day to see thedead ones, if you insist. "

Coach Luce looked over at Fred, and nodded. The tumultuous cheeringlasted two full minutes, for Gridley was always as strong onfans as it wanted to be on players. 

Fred Ripley was flushed but proud. He tried to hold himself jauntily, with an air of indifference, as he stood with the ball claspedin both hands, awaiting the signal. 

Ripley felt that he could afford to be satisfied with himself. The advance consciousness of victory thrilled him. He had workedrather hard with Everett; and, though the great pitcher had notsucceeded in bringing out all that he had hoped to do with theboy, yet Everett had praised him only yesterday. One reason whyFred had not absolutely suited his trainer was that the boy hadbroken his training pledge by taking up with coffee. For thatreason his nerves were not in the best possible shape. Yet theydidn't need to be in order to beat such awkward, rural pitchersas Prescott or Darrin. 

For a while Coach Luce waited for the cheering for Ripley to diedown. Then he raised his bat as a signal. Fred sent in his favoritespit-ball. To all who understood the game, it was clear thatthe ball had not been well delivered. The crowd on the seatsstopped cheering to look on in some concern. 

"Brace, Ripley! You can beat that, " warned the coach, in a lowtone. 

Fred did better the second time. The third ball was nearly upto his form; the fourth, wholly so. Now, Fred sent in two morespitballs, then changed to other styles. He was pitching famously, now. 

"That's all, unless you wish more, sir, " announced Fred, finally, when the ball came back to him. 

"It's enough. Magnificently done, " called Coach Luce, after aglance at the two members of the Athletic Committee. 

"Oh, you Rip!"

"Good old Rip!"

The cheering commenced again, swelling in volume. 

Coach Luce signaled to Dick Prescott, who, coolly, yet with asomewhat pallid face, came forward to the box. He removed thewrapping from a new ball and took his post. 

The cheering stopped now. Dick was extremely well liked in Gridley. Most of the spectators felt sorry for this poor young soph, whomust make a showing after that phenomenon, Ripley. 

"The first two or three don't need to count, Prescott, " calledLuce. "Get yourself warmed up. "

Fred stood at the side, looking on with a sense of amusement which, for policy's sake, he strove to conceal. 

"Great Scott! The nerve of the fellow!" gasped Ripley, inwardly, as he saw Prescott moisten his fingers. "He's going to try thespit-ball after what I've shown!"

The silence grew deeper, for most of the onlookers understoodthe significance of Dick's moistened fingers. 

Dick drove in, Tom Reade catching. That first spit-ball was notquite as good as some that Ripley had shown. But Fred's facewent white. 

"Where did Prescott get that thing? He's been _stealing_ from thelittle he has seen me do. "

A shout of jubilation went up from a hundred throats now, forDick had just spun his second spit-ball across the plate. Itwas equal to any that Ripley had shown. 

"Confound the upstart! He's getting close to me on that style!"gasped the astonished Ripley. 

Now, Dick held the ball for a few moments, rolling it over in hishands. An instant later, he unbent. Then he let drive. The ballwent slowly toward the plate, with flat trajectory. 

"Wow!" came the sudden explosion. It was a _jump-ball_, going almostto the plate, then rising instead of falling. 

Three more of these Dick served, and now the cheering was thebiggest of the afternoon. Fred Ripley's mouth was wide open, his breath coming jerkily. 

Three fine inshoots followed. The hundreds on the seats werestanding up now. Then, to rest his arm, Dick, who was whollycollected, and as cool as a veteran under fire, served the spectatorswith a glimpse of an out-curve that was not quite like any thatthey had ever seen before. This out-curve had a suspicion ofthe jump-ball about it. 

Dick was pitching easily, now. He had gotten his warming andhis nerve, and appeared to work without conscious strain. 

"Do you want more, sir?" called Dick, at last. 

"No, " decided Coach Luce. "You've done enough, Prescott. Mr. Darrin!"

Dave ran briskly to the box, opening the wrappings on a new ballas he stepped into the box. After the first two balls Dave'sexhibition was swift, certain, fine. He had almost reached Dickwith his performance. 

Ripley's bewildered astonishment was apparent in his face. 

"Thunder, I'd no idea they could do anything like that!" gaspedFred to himself. "They're very nearly as good as I am. How inblazes did they ever get hold of the wrinkles? They can't afforda man like Everett. "

"Any more candidates?" called Coach Luce. There weren't. Noother fellow was going forward to show himself after the lastthree who had worked from the box. 

There was almost a dead silence, then, while Coach Luce and thetwo members of the Athletics Committee conferred in whispers. At last the coach stepped forward. 

"We have chosen the pitchers!" he shouted. Then, after a pause, Mr. Luce went on:

"The pitchers for the regular school nine will be Prescott, Darrin, Ripley, in the order named. "

"Oh, you Dick!"

"Bang-up Prescott!"

"Reliable old Darrin!"

"Ripley---ugh!"

And now the fierce cheering drowned out all other cries. ButFred Ripley, his face purple with rage, darted forward beforethe judges. 

"I protest!" he cried. 

"Protests are useless, " replied Mr. Luce. "The judges give youfour points less than Darrin, and seven less than Prescott. You'vehad a fair show, Mr. Ripley. "

"I haven't. I'm better than either of them!" bawled Fred, hoarsely, for the cheering was still on and he had to make himself heard. 

"No use, Ripley, " spoke up a member of the Athletics Committee. "You're third, and that's good enough, for we never before hadsuch a pitching triumvirate. "

"Where did these fellows ever learn to pitch to beat me?" jeeredFred, angrily. "They had no such trainer. Until he went southwith his own team, I was trained by-----"

Fred paused suddenly. Perhaps he had better not tell too much, after all. 

The din from the seats had now died down. 

"Well, Ripley, who trained you?" asked a member of the AthleticsCommittee. 

Fred bit his lip, but Dick broke in quietly:

"I can tell. Perhaps a little confession will be good for usall around. Ripley was trained by Everett over at Duxbridge. I found out that much, weeks ago. "

"You spy!" hissed Fred angrily, but Dick, not heeding his enemy, continued:

"The way Ripley started out, the first showing he made, Darrinand I saw that we were left in the stable. Candidly, we werein despair of doing anything real in the box, after Ripley gotthrough. But I suppose all you gentlemen have heard of Pop Gint?"

"Gint! Old Pop?" demanded Coach Luce, a light glowing in hiseyes. "Well, I should say so. Why, Pop Gint was the famous oldtrainer who taught Everett and a half dozen other of our bestnational pitchers all they first learned about style. Pop Gintis the best trainer of pitchers that ever was. "

"Pop Gint is an uncle of Mr. Pollock, editor of 'The Blade, '" Dickwent on, smilingly. "Pop Gint has retired, and won't teach formoney, any more. But Mr. Pollock coaxed his uncle to train Darrinand myself. Right faithfully the old gentleman did it, too. Why, Pop Gint, today, is as much of a boy-----"

"Oh, shut up!" grated Fred, harshly, turning upon his rival. "Mr. Luce, I throw down the team as far as I'm concerned. I won'tpitch as an inferior to these two boobies. Scratch my name off. "

"I'll give you a day or two, Mr. Ripley, to think that over, "replied Mr. Luce, quietly. "Remember, Ripley, you must be a goodsportsman, and you should also be loyal to your High School. In matters of loyalty one can't always act on spite or impulse. "

"Humph!" muttered Fred, stalking away. 

His keen disappointment was welling up inside. With the ventof speech the suffering of the arrogant boy had become greater. Now, Fred's whole desire was to get away by himself, where hecould nurse his rage in secret. There were no more yells of "Oh, you Rip!" He had done some splendid pitching, and had made theteam, for that matter, but he was not to be one of the season'sstars. This latter fact, added to his deserved unpopularity, filled his spirit with gall as he hastened toward the dressingrooms. There he quickly got into his street clothes and as hastilyquitted the athletic field. 

Therein Fred Ripley made a mistake, as he generally did in otherthings. In sport all can't win. It is more of an art to be acheerful, game loser than to bow to the plaudits of the throng. 

"Mr. Prescott, " demanded Coach Luce, "how long have you beenworking under Pop Gint's training?"

"Between four and five weeks, sir. "

"And Darrin the same length of time?"

"Yes, sir, " nodded Dave. 

"Then, unless you two find something a whole lot better to doin life, you could do worse than to keep in mind the idea oftrying for positions on the national teams when you're older. "

"I think we have something better in view, Mr. Luce, " Dick answeredsmilingly. "Eh, Dave?"

"Yes, " nodded Darrin and speaking emphatically. "Athletics andsports are good for what they bring to a fellow in the way ofhealth and training. But a fellow ought to use the benefits asa physical foundation in some other kind of life where he canbe more useful. "

"I suppose you two, then, have it all mapped out as to what you'regoing to do in life?"

"Not quite, " Dick replied. "But I think I know what we'd liketo do when we're through with our studies. "

There were other try-outs that afternoon, but the great interestwas over. Gridley fans were satisfied that the High School hada pitching trio that it would be difficult to beat anywhere excepton the professional diamond. 

"If anything _should_ happen to Prescott and Darrin just beforeany of _the big games_, " muttered Ripley, darkly, to himself, "thenI'd have my chance, after all! Can't I get my head to workingand find a way to _make_ something happen?"

CHAPTER XIII

THE RIOT CALL AND OTHER LITTLE THINGS

"To your seat, Mr. Bristow! You're acting like a rowdy!"

Principal Cantwell uttered the order sharply. 

Fully half the student body had gathered in the big assembly roomat the High School. It was still five minutes before the openinghour, and there had been a buzz of conversation through the room. 

The principal's voice was so loud that it carried through theroom. Almost at once the buzz ceased as the students turned tosee what was happening. Bristow had been skylarking a bit. Undoubtedly he had been more boisterous with one of the otherfellows in the assembly room than good taste sanctioned. 

Just as naturally, however, Bristow resented the style of rebukefrom authority. The boy wheeled about, glaring at the principal. 

"Go to your seat, sir!" thundered the principal, his face turningghastly white from his suppressed rage. 

Bristow wheeled once more, in sullen silence, to go to his seat. Certainly he did not move fast, but he was obeying. 

"You mutinous young rascal, that won't do!" shot out from theprincipal's lips. In another instant Mr. Cantwell was crossingthe floor rapidly toward the slow-moving offender. 

"Get to your seat quickly, or go in pieces!" rasped out the angryprincipal. 

Seizing the boy from behind by both shoulders, Mr. Cantwell gavehim a violent push. Bristow tripped, falling across a desk andcutting a gash in his forehead. 

In an instant the boy was up and wheeled about, blood drippingfrom the cut, but something worse flashing in his eyes. 

The principal was at once terrified. He was not naturally courageous, but he had a dangerous temper, and he now realized to what ithad brought him. Mr. Cantwell was trying to frame a lame apologywhen an indignant voice cried out:

"_Coward_!"

His face livid, the principal turned. 

"Who said that?" he demanded, at white heat. 

"_I_ did!" admitted Purcell, promptly. Abner Cantwell sprang atthis second "offender. " But Purcell threw himself quickly intoan attitude of defence. 

"Keep your hands off of me, Mr. Cantwell, or I'll knock you down!"

"Good!"

"That's the talk!"

The excited High School boys came crowding about the principaland Purcell. Bristow was swept back by the surging throng. He had his handkerchief out, now, at his forehead. 

"Some of you young men seize Purcell and march him to my privateoffice, " commanded the principal, who had lacked the courage tostrike at the young fellow who stood waiting for him. 

"Will you fight Purcell like a man, if we do?" asked another voice. 

"Run Cantwell out! He isn't fit to be here!" yelled another voice. 

Mr. Drake, the only submaster in the room at the time, was pushinghis way forward. 

"Calmly, boys, calmly, " called Drake. "Don't do anything you'llbe sorry for afterwards. "

But those who were more hot headed were still pressing forward. It looked as though they were trying to get close enough to layhands on the now trembling principal. 

Under the circumstances, Mr. Cantwell did the very worst thinghe could have done. He pushed three or four boys aside and madea break across the assembly room. Once out in the corridor, theprincipal dove into his private office, turning the key afterhim. Secure, now, and his anger once more boiling up, Mr. Cantwellrang his telephone bell. Calling for the police station, he calledfor Chief Coy and reported that mutiny and violence had brokenloose in the High School. 

"That seems almost incredible, " replied Chief Coy. "But I'llcome on the run with some of my men. "

Several of the fellows made a move to follow the principal outinto the corridor. Dick Prescott swung the door shut and threwhimself against it. Dave Darrin and Tom Reade rushed to his support. The other chums got to him as quickly as they could. 

"Nothing rash, fellows!" urged Dick. "Remember, we don't makethe laws, or execute them. This business will be settled moreto our satisfaction if we don't put ourselves in the wrong. "

"Pull that fellow Prescott away from the door!" called Fred Ripley, anxious to start any kind of trouble against Dick & Co. SubmasterDrake, forcing his way through the throng, calming the hottest-headedones, turned an accusing look on Fred. The latter saw it andslunk back into the crowd. 

Bristow, still holding his handkerchief to his head, darted outof the building. 

Submaster Morton and Luce, bearing the excitement, came up fromclass rooms on the ground floor. They entered by the same doorthrough which Bristow had left. 

Over on the other side of the room, fearing that a violent riotwas about to start, some of the girls began to scream. The womenteachers present hurried among the girls, quieting them by reassuringwords. 

"Now, young gentlemen, " called Mr. Drake, "we'll consider allthis rumpus done with. Discipline reigns and Gridley's good namemust be preserved!"

This brought a cheer from many, for Mr. Drake was genuinely respectedby the boys as a good and fair-minded man. Such men as Drake, Morton or Luce could lead these warm-hearted boys anywhere. 

Stepping quickly back to the platform, Drake sounded the bell. In an instant there was an orderly movement toward the desks. At the second bell all were seated. 

"In the absence of the principal, " began Mr. Drake, "I-----"

A low-voiced laugh started in some quarters of the room. 

"Silence!" insisted Mr. Drake, with dignity. "School has opened. I-----"

He was interrupted by a new note. Out in the yard sounded theclanging of a bell, the quick trot of horses' feet and the rollof wheels. The boys looked at one another in unbelieving astonishment. 

Then heavy steps sounded on the stairway. Outside Mr. Cantwell'svoice could be heard:

"I'll take you inside, chief!"

In came the principal, his face now white from dread of what hehad done, instead of showing the white-heat of passion. Afterhim came Chief Coy and three policemen in uniform. 

For at least a full half minute Chief Coy stood glancing around theroom, where every student was in his seat and all was orderly. The boys returned the chief's look with wondering eyes. Then Mr. Coy spoke:

"Where's your riot, principal? Is this what you termed a mutiny?"

Mr. Cantwell, who had gone to his post behind the desk, appearedto find difficulty in answering. 

"Humph!" muttered the chief, and, turning, strode from the room. His three policemen followed. 

Then there came indeed an awkward silence. 

Submaster Drake had abandoned the center of the stage to the principal. Mr. Cantwell found himself at some loss for words. But at lasthe began:

"Young ladies and young gentlemen, I cannot begin to tell youhow much I regret the occurrences of this morning. Disciplineis one of my greatest ideals, and this morning's mutiny-----"

He felt obliged to pause there, for an angry murmur started onthe boys' side, and traveled over to where the girls were seated:

"This morning's mutiny-----" began the principal again. 

The murmur grew louder. Mr. Cantwell looked up, more of fearthan of anger in his eyes. Mr. Drake, who stood behind the principal, held up one hand appealingly. It was that gesture which savedthe situation at that critical moment. The boys thought thatif silence would please Mr. Drake, then he might have it. 

"Pardon me, sir, " whispered Drake in Cantwell's ear. "I wouldn'tharp on the word mutiny, sir. Express your regret for the injuryunintentionally done Bristow. "

Mr. Cantwell wheeled abruptly. 

"Who is principal here, Mr. Drake?"

"You are, sir. "

"Then be good enough to let me finish my remarks. "

This dialogue was spoken in an undertone, but the students guessedsome inkling of its substance. 

The submaster subsided, but Mr. Cantwell couldn't seem to remember, just then, what he wanted to say. So he stood gazing about theroom. In doing this he caught sight of the face of Purcell. 

"Mr. Purcell!" called the principal. 

That young man rose, standing by his seat. "Mr. Purcell, youmade some threat to me a few minutes ago?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What was that threat?"

"I told you that, if you laid hands on me, I'd floor you. "

"Would you have done it?"

"At the time, yes, sir. Or I'd have tried to do so. "

"That is all. The locker room monitor will go with you to thebasement. You may go for the day. When you come to-morrow morning, I will let you know what I have decided in your case. "

Submaster Drake bit his lips. This was not the way to deal witha situation in which the principal had started the trouble. Mr. Drake wouldn't have handled the situation in this way, nor wouldDr. Thornton, the former principal. 

But Purcell, with cheerfulness murmured, "Very good, sir, " andleft the room, while many approving glances followed him. 

Messrs. Morton and Luce shuffled rather uneasily in their seats. Mr. Cantwell began to gather an idea that he was making his ownbad matter worse, so he changed, making an address in which hetouched but lightly upon the incidents of the morning. He madean urgent plea for discipline at all times, and tried to impressupon the student body the need for absolute self-control. 

In view of his own hasty temper that last part of the speech nearlyprovoked an uproar of laughter. Only respect for Mr. Drake andthe other submasters prevented that. The women teachers, ormost of them, too, the boys were sure, sided with them secretly. 

The first recitation period of the morning was going by rapidly, but Mr. Cantwell didn't allow that to interfere with his remarks. At last, however, he called for the belated singing. This wasin progress when the door opened. Mr. Eldridge, superintendentof schools, entered, followed by Bristow's father. That lattergentleman looked angry. 

"Mr. Cantwell, can you spare us a few moments in your office?"inquired Mr. Eldridge. 

There was no way out of it. The principal left with them. In afew minutes there was a call for Mr. Drake. Then two of the womenteachers were sent for. Finally, Dick Prescott and three or fourof the other boys were summoned. On the complaint of a very angryparent Superintendent Eldridge was holding a very thoroughinvestigation. Many statements were asked for and listened to. 

"I think we have heard enough, haven't we, Mr. Eldridge?" askedthe elder Bristow, at last. "Shall I state my view of the affairnow?"

"You may, " nodded the superintendent. 

"It is plain enough to me, " snorted Mr. Bristow, "that this principalhasn't self-control enough to be charged with teaching disciplineto a lot of spirited boys. His example is bad for them---continuallybad. However, that is for the Board of Education to determine. My son will not come to school to-day, but he will attend to-morrow. As the first step toward righting to-day's affair I shall expectMr. Cantwell to address, before the whole student body, an ampleand satisfactory apology to my son. I shall be present to hearthat apology myself. "

"If it is offered, " broke in Principal Cantwell, sardonically, but Superintendent Eldridge held up a hand to check him. 

"If you don't offer the apology, to-morrow morning, and do itproperly, " retorted Mr. Bristow, "I shall go to my lawyer andinstruct him to get out a warrant charging you with feloniousassault. That is all I have to say, sir. Mr. Eldridge, I thankyou, sir, for your very prompt and kind help. Good morning, all!"

"At the close of the session the principal wishes to see Mr. Prescott, "read Mr. Cantwell from the platform just before school was dismissedthat afternoon. 

Dick waited in some curiosity. 

"Mr. Prescott, you write for 'The Blade, ' don't you?" asked Mr. Cantwell. 

"Sometimes, sir. "

"Then, Mr. Prescott, please understand that I forbid you to writeanything for publication concerning this morning's happenings. "

Dick remained silent. 

"You will not, will you?"

"That, Mr. Cantwell, is a matter that seems to rest between theeditor and myself. "

"But I have forbidden it, " insisted the principal, in surprise. 

"That is a matter, sir, about which you will have to see the editor. Here at school, Mr. Cantwell, I am under your orders. At 'TheBlade' office I work under Mr. Pollock's instructions. "

The principal looked as though he were going to grow angry. Onthe whole, though, he felt that he had had enough of the consequencesof his own wrath for one day. So he swallowed hard and replied:

"Very good, then, Mr. Prescott. I shall hold you responsiblefor anything you publish that I may consider harmful to me. "

Dick did print an account of the trouble at school. He confinedhimself to a statement of the facts that he had observed withhis own eyes. Editorially "The Blade" printed a comment to theeffect that such scenes would have been impossible under themuch-missed Dr. Thornton. 

Mr. Cantwell didn't have anything disagreeable to say to DickPrescott the next morning. Purcell took up the burden of hisstudies again without comment. The principal did apologize effectivelyto young Bristow before the student body, while the elder Bristowstood grimly by. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE STEAM OF THE BATSMAN

All of Dick & Co. Had made the High School nine, though not allas star players in their positions. 

Holmes had won out for left field, and Hazelton for shortstop. As far as the early outdoor practice showed, the latter was goingto be the strongest man of the school in that important position. 

Dalzell and Reade became first and second basemen. 

During the rest of March practice proceeded briskly. Six daysin every week the youngsters worked hard at the field in the afternoons. When it rained they put in their time at the gym. 

On the second of April Coach Luce called a meeting of the baseballsquad at the gym. 

"We're a week, now, from our first game, gentlemen, " announcedthe coach. "I want you all to be in flawless condition from nowon. I will put a question to you, now, on your honor. Has anyman broken training table?"

No one spoke or stirred. Ripley, who had gotten over the worstof his sulks, was present, but he did not admit any of his manybreaches of the training table diet that he was pledged to followat home. 

"Has any man used tobacco since training began?" continued thecoach. 

Again there was silence. 

"I am gratified to note that I can't get a response to eitherquestion, " smiled Mr. Luce. "This assures me that every one ofyou has kept in the strictest training. It will show as soonas you begin to meet Gridley's opponents in the field. 

"Faithful observance of all training rules bespeaks a good stateof discipline. In all sports, and in team sports especially, discipline is our very foundation stone. Every man must sacrificehimself and his feelings for the good of the team. Each one ofyou must forget, in all baseball matters, that he is an individual. He must think of himself only as a spoke in the wheel. 

"During the baseball season I want every man of you in bed bynine-thirty. On the night before a game turn in at eight-thirty. Make up your minds that there shall be no variation from this. In the mornings I want every man, when it isn't raining, to goout and jog along the road, in running shoes and sweaters, fortwenty minutes without a break; for thirty minutes, instead, onany morning when you can spare the time. 

"Whenever you can do so, practice swift, short sprints. Manya nine, full of otherwise good men, loses a game or a season'srecord just because this important matter of speedy base runninghas been neglected. 

"Not only this, but I want every one of you to be careful aboutthe method of sprinting. The man who runs flat-footedly is usingup steam and endurance. Run balanced well forward on the ballsof your feet. Throw your heels up; travel as though you weretrying to kick the backs of your thighs. Breathe through thenose, always, in running, and master to the highest degree thetrick of making a great air reservoir of your lungs. We havehad considerable practice, both in jogging and in sprinting, butthis afternoon I am going to sprint each man in turn, and I'mgoing to pick all his flaws of style or speed to small pieces. We will now adjourn to the field for that purpose. Remember, that a batsman has two very valuable assets---his hitting judgmentand his running steam. Wagons are waiting outside, and we'llnow make quick time to the field. "

Arriving there, Coach Luce led them at once to the dressing rooms. 

"Now, then, we want quick work!" he called after the sweatersand ball shoes had been hurriedly donned. 

"Now let us go over to the diamond; go to the home plate as Icall the names. Darrin Ripley-Prescott-Reade-Purcell-----"

And so on. The young men named made quick time to the plate. 

"You're up, Darrin. Run! Two bases only. Halt at second! Ripley, run! Reade, run! Not on your flat feet, Ripley. Up on yourtoes, man! Reade, more steam!"

Then others were given the starting word. Coach did not run moremen at a time than he could readily watch. 

"Prescott, throw your feet up behind better. You've been jogging, but that isn't the gait. Holmes, straighten back more---don'tcramp your chest!"

So the criticisms rang out. Luce was an authority on short sprinting. He had made good in that line in his own college days. 

"Jennison, you're not running with your arms! Forget 'em!"

Jennison promptly let his arms hang motionless at his sides. 

"Come in, Jennison!" called coach. 

Jennison came in. 

"You mustn't work your arms like fly-wheels, nor like piston rods, either, " explained Mr. Luce. "Keep your elbows in fairly closeto your sides; fists loosely closed and forward, a little higherthan your elbows. Now, all runners come in. "

Gathering the squad about him, and demanding close attention, Mr. Luce showed the pose of the body at the instant of starting. 

"Now, I'm going to run to first and second, " continued the coach. "I want every man of you to watch closely and catch the idea. You note how I hold my body---sloping slightly forward, yet withevery effort to avoid cramping the chest. Observe how I run onthe forward part of the ball of the foot---not exactly on thetoes, but close to it. See just how it is that I throw my feetup behind me. And be very particular to note that I keep my handsand arms in just this position all the way. Now, then, whenyou strike at a ball, and expect to hit it, have your lungs inflatedready for the first bound of the spurt. Now---watching, all ofyou?"

After an instant Mr. Luce shouted, "Strike!" and was off likea flash. Many of the boys present had never seen coach reallysprint before. As they watched during the amazingly few secondsa yell of delight went up from them. This was sprinting!

"Did you all find time to observe?" smiled coach, as he came lopingin from second base. 

"We all watched you, " laughed Dick. "But the time was short. "

"You see the true principle of the sprint?"

"Yes; but it would take any of us years to get the sprint downthat fine, " protested Darrin. 

"Don't be too sure of that, " retorted coach. "Some of you willhave doubled the style and steam of your sprint by the time you'rerunning in the first game. Now, don't forget a word of what I'vesaid about the importance of true sprinting. I've seen many anine whose members had a fine battery, and all the fielders goodmen; yet, when they went to the bat and hit the leather, theirsprinting was so poor that they lost game after game. From nowon, the sprint's the thing! Yet don't overdo it by doing it allthe time. Take plenty of rest and deep breathing between sprints. Usually, a two-bag sprint is all you need. Now, some more ofyou get out and try it. "

Rapidly coach called off the names of those he wanted to try out. Some of these young men did better than the starters, for theyhad learned from the criticisms, and from the showing of Luce'sstandard form. 

Presently the young men were standing about in various parts ofthe field, for none came in until called. 

"Ripley, " said Mr. Luce, turning to that young man, "you havethe build and the lines of a good sprinter. "

"Thank you, sir, " nodded Fred. 

"And yet your performance falls off. Your lung capacity oughtto be all right from your appearance. What is the trouble? Honestly, have you been smoking any cigarettes?"

"Not one, " Fred declared promptly. 

Mr. Luce lifted the boy's right hand, scanning it. 

"If I were going to make such a denial, " remarked coach coolly, "I'd be sure to have a piece of pumice stone, and I'd use it oftento take away those yellowish stains. "

The light-brownish stains were faint on Fred's first and secondfingers. Yet, under careful scrutiny, they could be made out. 

Ripley colored uncomfortably, jerking his hand away. 

"Better cut out the paper pests, " advised coach quietly. 

"Only one, once in a while, " murmured the boy. "I won't haveeven that many after this. "

"I should hope not, " replied Mr. Luce. "You're under trainingpledge, you know. "

All Fred meant by his promise was that he would use pumice stonepainstakingly on his finger tips hereafter. 

Within the next few days, Dick and Darrin made about the bestshowing as to sprinting form, though many of the others did remarkablywell. 

"Ripley isn't cutting out the cigarettes, " decided Mr. Luce, watchingthe running of the lawyer's son. "He proves it by his lack ofimprovement. His respiration is all to the bad. "

Mr. Luce was shrewd enough to know that, in Fred Ripley, he hada liar to deal with, and that neither repeated warnings nor renewedpromises were worth much. So he held his peace. 

In a few days more, all the members of the Athletics Committeewho could attend went to the field. A practice match betweenthe first and second teams had been ordered. Ripley consentedto pitch for second, while Dick pitched for the school nine. The latter nine won by a score of eleven to two, but that hadbeen expected. It was for another purpose that the members ofthe Athletics Committee were present. 

After the game, there was a brief conference between coach andthe committee members. 

"It is time, now, to announce the appointment of captain, " calledcoach, when he had again gathered the squad. "Purcell, of thejunior class, will be captain of the nine. Prescott, of the sophomoreclass, will be second, or relief captain. "

Then the announcements were made for the second nine. 

And now the first game was close at hand. The opponent was tobe Gardiner City High School. Gardiner possessed one of the strongestschool nines in the state. Coach Luce would have preferred aneasier opponent for the first regular game, but had to take theonly match that he could get. 

"However, young gentlemen, " he announced to the squad on the field, "the Gridley idea is that all opponents look alike to us. Yourcity and your school will demand that you win---not merely thatyou try to win!"

"We'll win---no other way to do!" came the hearty promise. 

CHAPTER XV

A DASTARD'S WORK IN THE DARK

Thanks to the methods Dick & Co. Had started the year before ofraising funds for High School athletics through stirring appealto the local pride of the wealthy residents of the city, the schoolnine had an abundant supply of money for all needs. 

Through the columns of "The Blade" Prescott warmed up local interesteffectively. Tickets sold well ahead of the time for the meetingwith Gardiner City High School. 

"Prescott, you've been picked to pitch for the Gardiner game, "Coach Luce informed the sophomore. "We're going to have almostthe hardest rub of the season with this nine, on account of itsbeing our first game. Gardiner City has played two games already, and her men have their diamond nerve with them. Keep yourselfin shape, Mr. Prescott. Don't take any even slight chance ofgetting out of condition. "

"You may be sure I won't, " Dick replied, his eyes glowing. "Youknow, Mr. Luce, that, though I played some on second footballteam last fall, this is the first chance I've had to play on theregular team. "

"As the game is close at hand, " continued the coach, "I'd evenbe careful not to train too much. You're in as fine condition, now, as you can be this season. Sometimes, just in keeping uptraining, a fellow has something happen to him that lays him upfor a few days. "

"It won't happen to me, sir, " Dick asserted. "I'm going to takecare of myself as if I were glass, until the Gardiner game isover. "

"You won't get too nervous, will you?"

"I may be a bit, before the game, " Dick confessed, candidly. 

"But after the game starts?"

"Once the game opens, I shall forget that there's any such fellowas Prescott, sir. I shall be just a part of Gridley, with nothingindividual about me. "

"Good! I like to hear you talk that way, " laughed Mr. Luce. "I hope you'll be able to keep up to it when you go to the diamond. Once the game opens, don't let yourself have a single carelessmoment. Any single point we can get away from Gardiner will haveto be done by just watching for it. You saw them play last year?"

"I did, " Prescott nodded. "Gridley won, four to three, and untilthe last half of the last inning we had only one run. I thoughtnothing could save us that day. "

"Nothing did, " replied the coach, "except the hard and fast can't-losetradition of Gridley. "

"We're not going to lose this time, either, " Dick declared. "Iknow that I'm going to strike out a string in every inning. IfI go stale, you have Darrin to fall back on, and he's as bafflinga pitcher as I can hope to be. And Ripley is a wonder. "

"He would be, " nodded Mr. Luce, sadly, "if he were a better baserunner at the same time. "

It seemed as though nothing else could be talked of in Gridleybut the opening game. Just because it was the starter of theseason the local military band, reinforced to thirty-five pieces, was to be on hand to give swing and life to the affair. 

"Are you going, Laura?" Dick asked, when he met Miss Bentley. 

"Am I going?" replied Laura, opening her eyes in amazement. "Why, Dick, do you think anything but pestilence or death could keepme away? Father is going to take Belle and myself. The seatsare already bought. "

Prescott's own parents were to attend. Out of his newspaper moneyhe had bought them grand stand seats, and some one else had beenengaged to attend in the store while the game was on. 

"You'll have a great chance, Dick, old fellow, against a ninelike Gardiner, " said Dave Darrin. "And, do you know, I'm gladit's up to you to pitch? I'm afraid I'd be too rattled to pitchagainst a nine like Gardiner in the very first game of the season. All I have to do is to keep at the side and watch you. "

"See here, Dave Darrin, " expostulated his chum, "you keep yourselfin the best trim, and make up your mind that you may _have_ tobe called before the game is over. What if my wrist goes lameduring the game?"

"Pooh! I don't believe it will, or _can_, " Dave retorted. "You'rein much too fine shape for that, Dick. "

"Other pitchers have often had to be retired before a game ended, "Prescott rejoined, gravely. "And I don't believe that I am thegreatest or the most enduring ever. Keep yourself up, Dave!Be ready for the call at any second. "

"Oh, I will, but it will be needless, " Dave answered. 

Dalzell and Holmes were other members of the school nine squadwho had been picked for this first game. Purcell was to catch, making perhaps, the strongest battery pair that Gridley High Schoolhad ever put in the field. Half of Dick & Co. Were to make upa third of the nine in its first battle. 

"I'm getting a bit scared, " muttered Dan, the Friday afternoonbefore the Saturday game. 

"Now, cut all that out, " Dick advised. "If you don't I'll reportyou to the coach and captain. "

This was said with a grin, and Dick went on earnestly:

"Dan, the scared soldier is always a mighty big drag in any battle. It takes two or three other good soldiers to look after him andhold him to duty. "

"I'll admit, for myself, that I wish the druggist knew of somesort of pill that would give me more confidence for this confoundedold first game, " muttered Greg Holmes. 

"I can tell you how to get the pill put up, " Prescott hinted. 

"I wish you would, then. " But Greg spoke dubiously. 

"Tell the druggist to use tragacanth paste to hold the pill together. "

"Yes?-----" followed Greg. 

"And tell the druggist to mix into each pill a pound of good oldYankee ginger, " wound up Prescott. "Take four, an hour apartbefore the game to-morrow. "

"Then I'd never play left field, " grinned Greg. 

"Yes, you would. You'd forget your nervousness. Try it, Greg. "

The three were walking up Main Street, when they encountered LauraBentley and Belle Meade. 

"What are you going to do to-morrow?" asked Laura, looking atthe trio, keenly. "Are you going to win for the glory and honorof good old Gridley?"

"Dick is, " smiled Greg. "Dan and I are going to sit at the sideand use foot-warmers. "

"You two aren't losing heart, are you?" asked Belle, looking atDick Prescott's companions with some scorn. 

"N-n-not if you girls are all going to take things as seriouslyas that, " protested Greg. 

"Every Gridley High School girl expects the nine to win to-morrow, "spoke Laura almost sternly. 

"Then we're going to win, " affirmed Dan Dalzell. "On second thought, I'll sell my footwarmers at half the cost price. "

"That's the way to talk, " laughed Belle. "Now, remember, boys---though Dick doesn't need to have his backbone stiffened---ifyou boys haven't pride enough in Gridley to carry you throughanything, the Gridley High School girls are heart and soul in thegame. If you lose the game to-morrow don't any of you ever show upagain at a class dance!"

The girls went away laughing, yet they meant what they said. Gridley girls were baseball fans and football rooters of the mostintense sort. 

Dave wanted to be abed by half past eight that evening, as CoachLuce had requested; but about a quarter past eight, just as hewas about to retire, his mother discovered that she needed coffeefor the next morning's breakfast, so she sent him to the grocer'son the errand. Dick, while eating supper, thought of an itemthat he wanted to print in the next day's "Blade. " Accordingly, he hurried to the newspaper office as soon as the meal was over. It was ten minutes past eight when Dick handed in his copy tothe night editor. 

"Time enough, " muttered the boy, as he reached the street. "Abrisk jog homeward is just the thing before pulling off clothesand dropping in between the sheets. "

As Dick jogged along he remembered having noticed, on the wayto the office, Tip Scammon in a new suit of clothes. 

"Tip's stock is coming up in the world, " thought young Prescott. "But I wonder whether Tip earned that suit or stole it, or whetherhe has just succeeded in threatening more money out of Ripley. How foolish Fred is to stand for blackmail! I wonder if I oughtto speak to him about it, or give his father a hint. I hate tobe meddlesome. And, by ginger! Now I think of it, Tip lookedrather curiously at me. He---oh!---_murder_!"

The last exclamation was wrung from Dick Prescott by a most amazinghappening. 

He was passing a building in the course of erection. It stoodflush with the sidewalk, and the contractor had laid down a boardwalk over the sidewalk, and had covered it with a roofed staging. 

Just as Dick passed under this, still on a lope, a long pole wasthrust quickly out from the blackness inside the building. BetweenDick's moving legs went the pole. 

Bump! Down came Dick, on both hands and one knee. Then he rolledover sideways. 

Away back in the building the young pitcher heard fast-movingfeet. 

In a flash Dick tried to get up. It took him more time than hehad expected. He clutched at one of the upright beams for support. 

Half a dozen people had seen the fall. Stopping curiously, theysoon turned, hurrying toward Prescott. 

Forgotten, in an instant, was the youngster's pain. His facewent white with another throbbing realization. 

"The game to-morrow! This knee puts me out!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE HOUR OF TORMENTING DOUBT

"Oh, no! That mustn't be. I've got to pitch in to-morrow's game!"

Prescott ground out the words between his clenched teeth. Theconsciousness of pain was again asserting itself. 

"What's the matter, Prescott?" called the first passer-by to reachhim. 

"Matter enough, " grumbled Dick, pointing to the pole that laynear him. "See that thing?"

"Yes. Trip over it?"

"I did. But some one thrust it between my legs as I was runningpast here. "

"Sho!" exclaimed another, curiously. "Now, who would want todo that?"

"Anyone who didn't want me to pitch to-morrow's game, perhaps, "flashed Dick, with sudden divination. 

"What's this?" demanded a boy, breaking in through the small crowdthat was collecting. "Dick---you hurt?"

It didn't take Dave many seconds to understand the situation. 

"I'll bet I know who did it!" he muttered, vengefully. 

"Who?" spoke up one of the men. 

But Dick gave a warning nudge. "Oh, well!" muttered Dave Darrin. "We'll settle this thing all in our own good time. "

"Let me have your arm, Dave, " begged young Prescott. "I wantto see how well I can walk. "

The young pitcher had already been experimenting, cautiously, to see how much weight he could bear on his injured left leg. 

"Take my arm on the other side, " volunteered a sympathetic manin the crowd. 

Dick was about to do so, when the lights of an auto showed asthe machine came close to the curb. 

"Here's a doctor, " called some one. 

"Which one?" asked Dick. 

"Bentley. "

"Good!" muttered Dave. "Dr. Bentley is medical examiner to theHigh School athletic teams. Ask Dr. Bentley if he won't comein here. Stand still, Dick, and put all the weight you can onyour sound leg. "

Prescott was already doing this. 

Dr. Bentley, a strong looking man of about fifty, rather shortthough broad-shouldered, took a quick survey of the situation. 

"One of you men help me put Prescott in the tonneau of my car, "he directed, "and come along with me to Prescott's home. Thelad must not step on that leg until it has been looked at. "

Dick found himself being lifted and placed in a comfortable seatin the after part of the auto. Dave and the man who had helpedthe physician got in with him. 

Barely a minute later Dr. Bentley stopped his car before the Prescottbook store. 

"You stay in the car a minute, " directed the physician. "I wantto speak to your mother, so she won't be scared to death. "

Mrs. Prescott, from whom Dick had inherited much of his own pluck, was not the kind of woman to faint. She quickly followed Dr. Bentley from the store. 

"I'm hurt only in my feelings, mother, " said Dick cheerfully. "I'm afraid I have a little wrench that will keep me out of thegame tomorrow. "

"That's almost a tragedy, I know, " replied Mrs. Prescott bravely. 

The physician directing, the boy was lifted from the car, whileMrs. Prescott went ahead to open the door. 

Dave Darrin followed, his eyes flashing. Dave had his own theoryto account for this state of affairs. 

Into his own room Dick was carried, and laid on the bed. Mrs. Prescott remained outside while Dave helped undress his chum. 

"Now, let us see just how bad this is, " mused the physician aloud. 

"It isn't so very bad, " smiled Dick. "I wouldn't mind at all, if it weren't for the game to-morrow. I'll play, anyway. "

"Huh!" muttered Dave, incredulously. 

Dr. Bentley was running his fingers over the left knee, whichlooked rather red. 

"Does this hurt? Does this? Or this" inquired the medical man, pressing on different parts of the knee. 

"No, " Dick answered, in each case. 

"We don't want grit, my boy. We want the truth. "

"Why, no; it doesn't hurt, " Dick insisted. "I believe I couldrub that knee a little, and then walk on it. "

"I hope that's right, " Dave muttered, half incredulously. 

Dr. Bentley made some further examination before he stated:

"I knew there was nothing broken there, but I feared that theligaments of the knee had been strained. That might have putyou out of the game for the season, Prescott. "

"I'll be able to sprint in the morning, " declared the young pitcher, with spirit. 

"You fell on your hands, as well, didn't you?" asked the physician. 

"Yes, sir. "

"That saved you from worse trouble, then. The ligaments are nottorn at all. The worst you've met with, Prescott, is a wrenchof the knee, and there's a little swelling. It hurt to standon your foot when you first tried to do so, didn't it?"

"Yes, sir. "

"It would probably hurt a little less, now. No---don't try it, "as Dick started to bolster himself up. "You want that knee inshape at the earliest moment, don't you?"

"Of course I do, doctor. "

"Then lie very quiet, and do, in everything, just what you aretold. "

"I've got to pitch to-morrow afternoon, you know, doctor. AndI've got to run bases. "

Dr. Bentley pursed his lips. 

"There's a chance in a thousand that you'll be able, Prescott. The slight swelling is the worst thing we have to deal with, I'm glad to say. We'll have to keep the leg pretty quiet, andput cold compresses on frequently. "

"I'll stay here and do it, " volunteered Dave, promptly. 

"You have to pitch to-morrow, Dave, if anything _should_ make thecoach order me off the field, " interposed Dick, anxiously. "Andyou ought to be home and in bed now. "

"If Mrs. Prescott will put on the bandages up to one o'clock to-nightthat will be doing well enough, " suggested Dr. Bentley. "I shallbe in to look at the young man quite early in the morning. Butdon't attempt to get up for anything, do you understand, Prescott?You know---" here Dr. Bentley assumed an air of authority---"I'm more than the mere physician. I'm medical director to your nine. So you're in duty bound to follow my orders to the letter. "

"I will---if you'll promise me that I can pitch, " promised theboy fervently. 

"I can't promise, but I'll do my best. "

"And, Dave, " pressed Dick, "you'll skip home, now, and get a bignight's rest, won't you? There's a bare chance that you _might_have to throw the ball to-morrow. But I won't let you, if I canstop it, " Prescott added wistfully. 

So Dave departed, for he was accustomed to following the wishesof the head of Dick & Co. In such matters. 

Mrs. Prescott had come in as soon as the lad had been placed betweenthe sheets. Dr. Bentley gave some further directions, then leftsomething that would quiet the pain without having the effectof an opiate. 

"It all depends on keeping the leg quiet and keeping the coldcompresses renewed, " were the medical man's parting words. 

Twenty minutes later Dave telephoned the store below. Darrinwas in a state of great excitement. 

"Tell Dick, when he's awake in the morning, " begged Dave of Mr. Prescott, who answered the call, "that Gridley pitchers seem tobe in danger to-night. At least, _two_ of 'em are. I was rightnear home, and running a bit, when I passed the head of the alleynear our house. A bag of sand was thrown out right in front ofmy feet. How I did it I don't quite know yet, but I jumped overthat bag, and came down on my feet beyond it. It was a fearfullyclose call, though. No; I guess you hadn't better tell Dick to-night. But you can tell him in the morning. "

Though "The Blade" somehow missed the matter, there were a goodmany in Gridley who had heard the news by Saturday morning. Ittraveled especially among the High School boys. More than a dozenof them were at the book store as soon as that place was opened. 

"How's Dick?" asked all the callers. 

"Doing finely, " replied the elder Prescott, cheerily. 

"Great! Is he going to pitch this afternoon?"

"Um---I can't say about that. "

"If he can't, Mr. Prescott, that'll be one of Gridley's chancesgone over the fence. "

Dave was on hand as early as he could be. Dick had already beentold of the attempt on his chum the night before. 

"You didn't see the fellow well enough to make out who he was?"Prescott pressed eagerly. 

"No, " admitted Dave, sadly. "After a few seconds I got over mybewilderment enough to try to give chase. But the dastard hadsneaked away, cat-foot. I know who it was, though, even if Ididn't see him. "

"Tip Scammon?"

"Surely, " nodded Darrin. "He's Ripley's right hand at nasty work, isn't he?"

"I'd hate to think that Fred had a hand in such mean business, "muttered Dick, flushing. 

"Don't be simple, " muttered Dave. "Who wanted to be crack pitcherfor the nine? Who pitches to-day, if neither of us can? Thatwould be a mean hint to throw out, if Ripley's past conduct didn'twarrant the suspicion. "

Later in the morning there was another phase of the sensation, and Dave came back with it. He was just in time to find Dickwalking out into the little parlor of the flat, Dr. Bentley watching. 

"Fine!" cheered Dave. "How is he, doctor?"

"Doing nicely, " nodded Dr. Bentley. 

"But how about the big problem---can he pitch to-day?"

"That's what we're trying to guess, " replied the physician. "Now, see here, Prescott, you're to sit over there by the window, inthe sunlight. During the first hour you will get up once in everyfive minutes and walk around the room once, then seating yourselfagain. In the second hour, you'll walk around twice, every fiveminutes. After that you may move about as much as you like, but don't go out of the room. I think you can, by this gentleexercise, work out all the little stiffness that's left there. "

"And now for my news, " cried Dave, as soon as the medical manhad gone. "Fred Ripley ran into trouble, too. "

"Got hurt, you mean?" asked Dick quickly. 

"Not quite, " went on Darrin, making a face. "When Fred was goinginto the house last night he tripped slightly---against a ropethat had been stretched across the garden path between two stakes. "

"But Fred wasn't hurt?"

"No; he says he tripped, but he recovered himself. "

"I'm afraid you don't believe that, Dave?"

"I ought to, anyway, " retorted Darrin dryly. "Fred is showingthe rope. "

"A piece of rope is easy enough to get, " mused Dick. 

"Yep; and a lie is easy enough for some fellows to tell. Butsome of the fellows are inclined to believe Rip, so they've starteda yarn that Gardiner High School is up to tricks, and that somefellows have been sent over in advance to cripple our box menfor to-day. "

"That's vile!" flushed Prescott indignantly, as he got up to makethe circuit of the room. "The Gardiner fellows have always beengood, fair sportsmen. They wouldn't be back of any tricks ofthat sort. "

"Well, Fred has managed to cover himself, anyway, " returned Daverather disgustedly. "He called his father and mother out to seethe rope before he cut it away from the stakes. Oh, I guess agood many fellows will believe Ripley's yarn!"

"I'm afraid you don't, Dave;"

"Oh, yes; I'm easy, " grinned Darrin. 

"Can you see two young ladies, Richard?" asked Mrs. Prescott, looking into the room. 

"Certainly, mother, if I get a chance. My vision is not impairedin the least, " laughed Dick. 

Mrs. Prescott stood aside to admit Laura and Belle, then followedthem into the room. 

"We came to make sure that Gridley is not to lose its great pitcherto-day, " announced Laura. 

"Then your father must have told you that I'd do, " cried Dick, eagerly. 

"Father?" pouted Miss Bentley. "You don't know him then. Onecan never get a word out of father about any of his patients. But he said we might call. "

The visit of the girls brightened up twenty minutes of the morning. 

"Of course, " said Laura, as they rose to go, "you mustn't attemptto pitch if you really can't do it, or if it would hurt you forfuture games. "

"I'm afraid the coach won't let me pitch, unless your father saysI can, " murmured Dick, with a wry face. 

Few in Gridley who knew the state of affairs had any idea thatDick Prescott would be able to stand in the box against Gardiner. But the young pitcher boarded a trolley car, accompanied by DaveDarrin, and both reached the Athletic Field before two o'clock. Dr. Bentley was there soon after. In the Gridley dressing room, Dick's left leg was bared, while Coach Luce drew off his coatand rolled up his shirt sleeves. Under the physician's directionthe coach administered a very thorough massage, following thiswith an alcohol rubbing. 

When it was all over Dick rose to exhibit the motions of thatleg before the eyes of the doubtful physician. 

CHAPTER XVII

WHEN THE HOME FANS QUIVERED

"Is Prescott going to toss!"

"They say not. "

"It's a shame. "

"And there's a suspicion, " whispered one of the High School speakers, "that the other name of the shame is Fred Ripley. "

"He ought to be lynched!"

"But he claims that an attempt was made against him, also. "

"Ripley never was strong on the truth. "

Though the gossip about Fred Ripley was not general, the anxietyover Pitcher Prescott was heard on all sides. 

"It'll be a sure hoodoo if Prescott can't pitch the season's firstgame, " declared a man who seldom missed a High School game onthe home diamond. 

Before three o'clock the grand stand was comfortably filled. The cheaper seats beyond held about as many spectators as theywere built to hold. 

The attendance, that day, was nearly three thousand. Gardinerhad sent a delegation of nearly one-tenth of this number. 

Before three o'clock the band began to play. Whenever the musicianslaunched into a popular baseball ditty the crowd joined with thewords. 

"Prescott is going to pitch!"

"No, he isn't. "

"The word has just been passed around. Besides, his name's downon the score card. "

"The score cards were printed yesterday. "

Finally, curiosity could stand it no longer. A committee leftthe grand stand to go toward the dressing rooms building. Buta policeman waved them back. 

"None but players and officials allowed in there, " declared theofficer. 

"We want to find out whether Prescott is going to pitch, " urgedthe spokesman. 

"I heard something about that, " admitted the policeman. 

"What was it? Quick!"

"Let me see. Oh! Prescott wants to pitch; the coach is halfwilling, but the doctor ain't certain. "

This was the best they could do, so the committee returned totheir seats. But nothing was settled. 

At three-twenty, just as the band ceased playing, the compactbunch of Gardiner fans sent up the yell:

"Here they come! Our fellows! The only ones!"

Using their privilege as visiting team, the Gardiner players werenow filing on to the field for a little warming-up practice. 

"Throw him down, McCluskey!" tooted the band, derisively. Butthe cheers from the wild Gardiner fans nearly drowned out theinstrumental racket. Quickly the visitors had a practice ballin motion. Now the home fans waited breathlessly. 

At last the band played again. "See the Conquering Hero Comes!"

Gridley High School, natty and clean looking in their gray andblack uniforms, with black stockings, caps and belts, came outon the field. Instantly there was craning of necks to see ifPrescott were among the players. 

"There he is!" yelled one of the High School fans. "There's ourDick! Wow!"

Cheering went up from every Gridley seat. The bleachers contributeda bedlam of noise. "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!" blared forththe band. Girls and women stood up, waving fans, handkerchiefs, banners. Another round of cheering started. Dick walked quietly, looking neither to right nor left. Yet the boy was wondering, in astonishment, if kings usually got such a welcome. 

By the time the cheering had ceased, Fred Ripley, also in uniform, strolled out and walked toward the sub bench. 

A hiss greeted Ripley. It was not loud, nor insistent, and presentlydied out. But Fred went as white as a sheet, then, with eyescast downward, he dropped to his seat at the end of the sub bench. His chest heaved, for the greeting had unnerved him. 

"I wonder why I usually get that sort of thing, while that fellowPrescott has a band to play him in, " muttered Fred. 

The bulk of the audience was now quiet, while the three hundredvisiting fans roared out one of their school yells. 

Then followed a noisy whooping of the Gridley High School yell. 

Coach Luce had walked over to a post behind the sub bench. 

Umpire Foley, his mask dangling from his left hand, now summonedPurcell and the Gardiner captain. A coin spun up in the air. Gardiner's diamond chieftain won the toss, and chose first chanceat the bat. Purcell's men scattered to their fielding posts, while the young captain of the home team fastened on his catcher'smask. 

The umpire took a ball from its package, inspected it, then tossedit to Dick Prescott, who stood in the box awaiting it. Therewas a moment's tense expectation, followed by the command thatset all the real fans wild:

"_Play ball_!"

Gardiner High School had put up a husky young giant who stoodbeside the plate, a confident grin on his face as he swung thebat. 

Dick moistened his fingers. The batsman saw that, and guessedwhat was coming. He didn't guess quite low enough, however, for, though he stooped and swung the stick lower, the ball went underit by three inches. 

"Strike one!" called Mr. Foley, judicially. 

An imperceptible signal told Purcell what was coming next. Thenit came---a jump ball. This time Gardiner's batsman aimed lowenough but it proved to be a jump ball. 

"Strike two!"

A howl of glee went up from all quarters, save from the Gardinervisitors. 

Again Dick signaled. His third was altogether different---a bewilderingout-curve. Gardiner's batsman didn't offer, but Purcell caughtthe leather neatly. 

"Strike three, and out! One out!" announced the umpire. 

"Whoop!" The joy from the home fans was let loose. With a disgustedlook, Gardiner's man slouched back to the players' bench. 

CHAPTER XVIII

THE GRIT OF THE GRAND OLD GAME

In that half of the inning it was one, two, three---down and out!

Even Fred Ripley found himself gasping with admiration of Prescott'swonderfully true pitching. 

Yet the joy of the home fans was somewhat curbed when Gridleywent to bat and her third man struck out after two of the ninehad reached bases. 

So the first inning closed without score. Gardiner had foundthat Gridley was "good, " and the latter realized that even youngPrescott's pitching could not do it all. 

The first five innings went off quickly, neither side scoring. 

"It'll be a tie at dark, " sighed some of the fans. 

"Oh, well, a tie doesn't score against Gridley, " others added, consolingly. 

In the five innings Dick Prescott had to run twice. The firsttime he was left at first base. The second time he had reachedsecond, and was cautiously stealing third, when Gridley's batsman, Captain Purcell, struck his side out on a foul hit. 

"How's your wrist holding up?" asked Purcell, in a low tone, asDick came in. 

"It feels strong. 

"Do you think Darrin had better have the rest of the game?"

"Not on account of my wrist. "

"But can you run the bases to the end?"

"If it doesn't call for any more running than we've had, " smiledDick. 

Then he caught the ball, held it an instant, signaled, and letdrive. It was the same Gardiner batsman whom Prescott had struckout at the opening of the game. This time the young giant gotthe range of the ball by sheer good guessing. 

Crack! It soared. Right field ran backward after the ball. Now the Gardiner fans were up and yelling like Comanches. 

"Leg it, Prendergast!"

The runner touched first bag, then darted on for second. Rightfield was still after the ball. 

"Whoop! He's pulverized the second bag!"

"Just look at third, old man, and come steaming home over theplate!"

That runner had been well trained. He was close upon third baseand going with unabated speed. 

He kicked the bag---then a warning cry told him that right fieldhad the ball. 

A swift look over his shoulder, and Prendergast fell back uponthird just before the ball dropped into the third baseman's hands. 

"Safe on third!" came the umpire's announcement. The ball archedover to Dick Prescott. Purcell signaled him to let the ball comein over the plate. 

Now the air was all a-tingle. The visitors had a run in sight. Dick felt the thrill, but steeled himself against any impulsivenessor loss of nerve. He signaled the drive, then let go. Threestrikes and out, the ball all the while so closely under controlthat Prendergast fidgeted but did not dare steal far from third. 

Then came Dowdy to the bat. He was far and away the best batsmanfrom Gardiner. Prendergast began to edge in. 

"Strike one!" from the umpire. 

Crack! The leather hung low, a little to the left of shortstop, who raced after it. Prendergast was going in at a tremendousclip. As shortstop reached the ball, he swooped down on it, stoppedits rolling, and rising quickly, hurled it in across the plate. 

Purcell was waiting, and made a good catch. It looked close. Everyone eyed Umpire Foley. 

"Runner safe home, " he decided. 

There was a gasp of disappointment, but the decision was fair. Prendergast had made good by a fraction of a second---and therewas a man on first. 

"Oh, Dick! Oh, Prescott!" wailed the home fans. "We look toyou. "

Dick's answer was to strike the next man out, with never a chancefor the man on first to steal away from Dalzell and make second. Then a short fly filled first and second. Dick struck out asecond man---then a third. 

But this was getting on Gridley's nerves. Despite Prescott'sfine pitching, it began to look as though Gardiner High Schoolwas fitted for getting the only one or two runs that the gamewould witness. 

In the eighth, Gardiner got a second run, but that inning closedwith Gridley as much "stumped" as ever. 

"Why play the ninth?" yelled one of the visitor fans. "Let'sgo and drink tea. Gridley boys are nice little fellows, but-----"

"How's that wrist?" asked Captain Purcell, anxiously, as the playerschanged places to begin the ninth. Coach Luce had stepped close, too, and looked anxious. 

"Just a bit lame, of course, " Dick admitted. "But I'm going topull through. "

"You're sure about it?" Purcell asked. 

"Sure enough!"

The first Gardiner man to bat went out on the third ball sentpast him. Then a second. Now came Prendergast to the bat, bloodin his eye. He glared grimly at young Prescott, as though tosay:

"Now, I'll take it out of you for making a comedian of me thefirst time I held the stick!"

Dick felt, somehow, that Prendergast would make good. 

The first ball that Prescott put over the plate was a called strike. At the second serve---

Crack! and Prendergast was running. 

Dan Dalzell gauged the flight of that ball better than anyoneelse on the diamond. He side-stepped like a flash, falling backa couple of paces. Then pulling the leather down out of the air, he leaped back to first. He was holding the ball in his lefthand when Prendergast, breathing fast, hopped at the bag. 

"Runner out!" called Umpire Foley. Prendergast stamped back, with a look of huge disgust. And now Gridley came in at the bat. 

"It's no use! We're whipped!" That was the comment everywhereas Gridley came in from the field prepared for a last effort. 

Gridley's first and second men went bad---the first struck out, and the second knocked a foul bit that was caught. 

"Greg, you've got to go to bat next, " whispered Dick to Holmes, just a moment before. "Oh, _don't_ you strike out. Hit somethingdrive it somewhere. Remember Gridley can't and won't lose! Getthe Gridley spirit soaked into you instanter. Chase that leather_somewhere_!"

Gardiner's pitcher, his face beaming, faced Holmes, whom he didnot regard as one of the team's heavyweights in batting skill. Visiting fans were rising, preparing to leave the stand. 

"Strike one!"

"There he goes!"

"Strike two!"

"It's all over. "

Crack! Greg was off like a colt. Running was in his line. Hehad swatted the ball somewhere over into left field, and he didn'tcare where it landed. Gardiner's left field was forced to pickup the leather. 

Greg didn't know that anyone had the ball. He didn't care; hehad to make first, anyway. 

He kicked the bag, turning for the second lap. Then he saw thesphere coming through the air, and slid back. 

"Runner safe on first!"

Gridley, with its nerve always on hand, felt that there was aray of hope. The good, old, strong and fierce school yell wentup. The soprano voices of the girls sounded high on the air. 

Now Dan Dalzell came up to the plate, bat in hand. Dan hadn'thit a thing during the afternoon, but he meant to do so, now. It was either that or the swan-song!

"Strike one!---" a groan came from Gridley, a cheer from Gardiner. 

But Dan was not in the least confused. He was ready for the nextball. 

_Biff_! It was the pistol shot for Greg, who was off like a two-leggedstreak, with Dan, ninety feet behind but striving to catch up. The ball came to first only a quarter-second behind Dan's arrival. 

"Both runners safe!"

"Oh, now, _Purcell_!"

The man now hovering over the plate knew he simply _had_ to do something. He was captain of the nine. He had caught like a Pinkerton detectiveall afternoon, but now something was demanded of his brain andbrawn. 

"Strike one!" called the umpire, with voice that grated. 

"Good-bye!"

"Strike two!" came again the umpire's rasping tones. 

Even now Gridley fans wouldn't admit cold feet, but the chillswere starting that way. 

Crack!

"Whoop!" Then the battle-cry of Gridley rose frantically fromall the seats---Purcell had made first base. 

"Prescott!"

"It's yours!"

"_Don't_ fall down!"

Schimmelpodt, a wealthy old German contractor, rose from his seat, shouting hoarsely:

"Bresgott I gif fifdy tollars by dot Athletic Committee bis youwin der game vor Gridley!"

The offer brought a laugh and a cheer. Schimmelpodt rarely threwaway money. 

Dick, smiling confidently, stood bat in hand. 

Most other boys might have felt nervous with so much dependingon them. But Dick was one of the kind who would put off growingnervous until the need of steady nerves was past. 

It was always impossible for him to admit defeat. 

The game stood two to nothing in favor of the Gardiner nine, butGridley had bases full. 

Dick's help might not have been needed for all the uneasinessthat he displayed. 

There was no pallor about his face, nor any flush. His handsgrasped the willow easily, confidently. 

"Strike one!"

Prescott had missed the ball, but it failed to rattle him. 

"Strike two!"

The boy was still undaunted, though he had lost two chances outof the three. 

Again he tried for the ball. 

Swish! It was a foul hit, out sidewise. Gardiner's catcher dartednimbly in under the ball. 

Home fans groaned. 

As for Dick, he didn't turn his head to look. Catcher had theball in his fingers, but fumbled it. It slipped. 

"Hard luck, " muttered the standing Gardiner fans, waiting to givetheir final cheer of victory. 

Dick's next sight of the ball was when it sailed lazily over hishead, into the hands of the man in the box. 

"I hope Dick is bracing, " groaned one of Gridley's subs. 

"He isn't, " retorted Dave Darrin. "He's just on the job, steadyas iron, cool as a cucumber and confident as an American. "

Gardiner's pitcher measured his man critically, then signaledthe next ball. 

It came, just as Dick, closely watching the pitcher, expectedit to come, a swift, graceful out-curve. 

_Bang_!

At least it sounded like a gunshot. Dick Prescott struck theball with all his might. He struck with greatest force justbarely below the center of the sphere. 

It was a fearful crack, aimed right and full of steam and speed. 

"_Wow_!"

Three base-runners, at the first sound had started running forall they were worth. Dick's bat flew like a projectile itself, fortunately hitting no one, and Prescott was running like Greekof old on the Olympic field. 

One man in!

The ball had gone past the furthest limits of outfield. Beforeit had touched the ground Dick Prescott touched first and startedfor second. 

Gardiner right and left fields were running a race with centerfield. 

The latter was the one to get it, but his two supporters simplycouldn't stand still. 

Prescott kicked the second bag. Almost at the same instant thesecond man was in. 

Score tied!

What about that ball?

It was rolling on the ground, now, many yards ahead of the flyingcenter-field. 

Dick was nearing third, the man ahead of him fast nearing thehome plate. 

Centerfield had the ball in his hands, whirling as if on springs. 

Third man safe home---Dick Prescott turning the third bag andinto the last leg of the diamond. 

Center-field threw with all his might, but the distance was long. 

Second base had to stoop for the ball. Even at that, it got pasthis hands. He wheeled, bolted after the ball, got it and madea throw to the catcher. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, young Prescott saw the archingball descend, a good throw and a true one. 

Yet, ere it landed in the catcher's hand, Dick, by the fractionof a second, had sprinted desperately across the home plate. 

"Runner safe home!"

"Whoo-oopee! Wow! wow! wow!" rang the chorus of thousands. 

"Four to two!"

"What about Gridley, _now_?"

"What about Dick Prescott?"

Then words were lost in volleys of cheers. The Gardiner fanswho had risen to cheer slipped dejectedly down from the stand. 

And Dick Prescott?

While running he had given no thought to his knee. 

Now, as he dashed across the plate, and heard the umpire's decision, he tried to stop, but slipped and went down. He tried to rise, but found it would be better to sit where he was. 

The game was over. Gridley, having made the winning runs in thelast half of the ninth, the rules of the game forbade any furtherattempts to pile up score. 

One of the first of the great crowd to leap over into the fieldand cross the diamond was Coach Luce. He ran straight to theyoung pitcher's side, kneeling close by him. 

"You've given your knee a fearful twist, Prescott. I could seeit, " said Luce sympathetically. 

"What do I care?" Dick called back, his face beaming. "The score'ssafe, isn't it?"

Had it not been for the state of his knee Prescott would havebeen snatched up by a dozen hands and rushed across the fieldin triumph. But Mr. Luce waved them all back. Dick's fatherand mother came hurrying across the field to see what was wrongwith their boy. 

"Let me lean on you as I get up, Mr. Luce, " begged Dick, and thecoach was only too quick to help the boy to his feet. Then, withthe aid of Luce's arm, Dick was able to show his parents thathe could walk without too much of a limp. 

"You did it for us, Dick, old boy!" greeted Captain Purcell, assoon as he could get close. 

"Did I?" snorted the young pitcher. "I thought there were fourof us in it, with five others helping a bit. "

"It was the crack you gave that ball that brought us in, " glowedPurcell. "Gracious, I don't believe that Gardiner pitcher wasever stung as badly as that before!"

The band was playing, now. As the strain stopped, and the youngpitcher came across the field, leaning now on Dave Darrin's arm, the music crashed out again into "Hail to the Chief!"

"You see, Purcell. You're getting your share of the credit now, "laughed Dick. "The band is playing something about a captain, isn't it?"

In the dressing room Dick had abundant offers of help. Fred Ripleywas the only silent one in the group. He changed his togs forstreet clothes as quickly as he could and disappeared. Later, Dave Darrin and Greg Holmes helped Dick on to a street car, andsaw him safely home. That knee required further treatment byDr. Bentley, but there was time, now, and no game depending onthe result. 

"Fred, I can't say much for your appetite tonight, " remarked hisfather at the evening meal. 

"Neither can I, sir, " Fred answered. 

"Are you out of sorts?"

"Never felt any better, sir. "

"Being out in the open air all this April afternoon should havegiven you an appetite. 

"I didn't do anything this afternoon, except sit around in myball togs, " Fred grumbled. 

"I hope you'll have a few good games to pitch this season, " hisfather went on. "You worked hard enough, and I spent money enoughon the effort to prepare you. "

"You can't beat some people's luck---unless you do it with a club, "grumbled Fred, absently. 

"Eh?" asked his father, looking up sharply from his plate. Butthe boy did not explain. 

Late that night, however, breaking training rules for the tenthtime, Fred was out on the sly to meet Tip Scammon. The pairof them laid plans that aimed to stop Dick Prescott's careeras High School pitcher. 

CHAPTER XIX

SOME MEAN TRICKS LEFT OVER

Mr. Schimmelpodt had offered that fifty dollars in a moment ofundue excitement. 

For two or three days afterward he wondered if he couldn't findsome way out of "spending" the money that would yet let him keephis self-respect. 

Finding, at last, that he could not, he wrote out the check andmailed it. He pinned the check to a half-sheet of paper on whichhe wrote, "Rah mit Prescott!"

A few days later Mr. Schimmelpodt turned from Main Street intothe side street on which Dick's parents kept their store and theirhome. 

"Ach! Und dere is de door vot that boy lives by, " thought Mr. Schimmelpodt, just before he passed Dick's door. "Yen der gameover was, und I saw dot boy go down---ach!"

For Mr. Schimmelpodt had suited the action to the word. Out fromunder him his feet shot. But Mr. Schimmelpodt, being short andflabby of leg, with a bulky body above, came down as slowly asbig bodies are supposed to move. It was rather a gradual tumble. Having so much fat on all portions of his body Mr. Schimmelpodtcame down with more astonishment than jar. 

"Ach! Such a slipperyishness!" he grunted. "Hey, Bresgott---!look out!"

The door had opened suddenly at this early hour in the morning. Dick, charged with doing a breakfast errand for his mother atthe last moment, sprang down the steps and started to sprint away. 

At the first step on the sidewalk, however, Dick's landing footshot out from under him. 

He tried to bring the other down in time to save himself. That, too, slipped. Dick waved his arms, wind-mill fashion in the quickeffort to save himself. 

"Bresgott, " observed the seated contractor, solemnly, "I bet youfive tollars to den cents dot you-----"

Here Schimmelpodt waited until Dick settled the question of thecenter of gravity by sprawling on the sidewalk. 

"---Dot you fall, " finished the German, gravely. "I---Und I yin!"

"Why, good morning, Mr. Schimmelpodt, " Dick responded, as he startedto get up. "What are you doing here. "

"Oh, choost vaiting to see bis you do the same thing, " gruntedthe contractor. "It was great sport---not?"

"Decidedly 'not, '" laughed Dick, stepping gingerly over a sidewalkthat had been spread thinly with some sticky substance. "CanI help you up, Mr. Schimmelpodt?"

The German, who knew his own weight, glanced at the boy's slightfigure rather doubtfully. 

"Bresgott, how many horsepower are you alretty?"

But Dick, standing carefully so that he would not slip again, displayed more strength than the contractor had expected. Inanother moment the German was on his feet, moving cautiously away, his eyes on the sidewalk. Yet he did not forget to mutter histhanks to the boy. 

As Dick now went on his way again, slipping around the cornerand into a bakeshop, he noticed that his right wrist felt a bitqueer. 

"Well, I haven't broken anything, " he murmured, feeling of thewrist with his left hand. "But what on earth happened to thesidewalk. "

As he paused before his door on the way back, he looked carefullydown at the sidewalk. Right before the door several flags inthe walk appeared to be thinly coated with some colorless specimenof slime. 

"It looks as though it might be soft soap, " pondered Prescott, examining the stuff more closely. "It'll be dry in a half anhour more, but I think I had better fix it. "

In the basement was a barrel of sand that was used for sandingthe icy sidewalk in winter. As soon as Dick had run upstairswith the bread he went below, got a few handfuls of sand and fixedthe sidewalk. 

At recess Dick noticed just enough about his wrist to make himspeak about it to Submaster Luce. 

"Let me see it, " demanded coach. "Hm!" he muttered. "Anotherpeculiar accident, and only two days before our game with Chichester!See Dr. Bentley about your wrist at his office this afternoon. I'm beginning to think, Prescott, that it's a fortunate thingfor you that the medical director is paid out of the fund. You'dbankrupt an ordinary citizen if you're going to keep on havingthese tumbles. "

Dr. Bentley's verdict was that, while the wrist was not in a conditionthat need bother men much in ordinary callings, yet, as a pitcher'swrist, it would need rest and care. 

"I've just got the tip that I'm to pitch in the Chichester game, "said Dave, coming to his chum that afternoon. 

"Yes; Doe thinks I ought to look after this wrist---that it wouldn'tstand extraordinary strain during the next few days. But, Dave, old fellow, watch out! Keep your eye on the sidewalks near yourhome. Don't prowl in lonely places after dark. Act as if youwere made of glass until you get on the field at the Chichestergame. "

Darrin glanced shrewdly at his friend, then nodded. 

"I'm on, Dick! Confound that fellow, Ripley. And he's as slickand slippery as an eel. I don't suppose there is any way thatwe can catch him?"

"If I knew a way I'd use it, " growled Prescott. "I'm sick ofhaving this thing so onesided all the time. Ripley plans, andwe pay the piper. The blackguard!"

"Then you're sure Ripley is at the bottom of these accidents?"

"The accidents are planned, " retorted Dick. "Who else would careto plan them, except that disagreeable fellow?"

"I'd like to get just proof enough to justify me in demandingthat he stand up before me for twenty rounds, " gritted Dave Darrin. 

Dave did take extraordinary care of himself, and was on hand topitch at the game with Chichester. This game, like the first, was on the home grounds. 

It was a close game, won by Gridley, two to one. In some respectsChichester's fielding work was better than the home team's. Itwas undying grit that won the battle---that and Dave Darrin'spitching. 

As the jubilant home fans left the ball grounds it was the generalopinion that Dave Darrin was only the merest shade behind DickPrescott as a pitcher. 

"Either one of them in the box, " said Coach Luce to a friend, "and the game is half won. "

"But how about Ripley?"

"Ripley?" replied the coach. "He made a good showing in the tryouts, but we haven't had in the field yet. He will be, though, thenext game. We play Brayton High School over at Brayton. It'sone of the smaller games, and we're going to try Ripley there. "

Then the coach added, to himself:

"Ripley is presentable enough, but I believe there's a big yellowstreak in him somewhere. I wouldn't dare to put Fred into oneof the big games requiring all the grit that Prescott or Darrincan show!"

CHAPTER XX

A TIN CAN FOR THE YELLOW DOG

With Ripley in the box Gridley won its third game of the season, beating Brayton High School by a score of five to two. 

"It ought to have been a whitewash against a small-fry crowd likeBrayton, " Coach Luce confided to Captain Purcell. 

"What was our weak spot, Coach?"

"Have you an opinion, Captain?" asked the coach. 

"Yes, but I'm afraid I'm wrong. "

"What is your idea?"

"Why, it seemed to me, Mr. Luce, that Ripley went stiff at justthe wrong times. Yet I hate to say that, and I am afraid I'munfair, for Rip surely does throw in some wonderful balls. "

"You've struck my idea, anyway, " responded Mr. Luce. "Pleasedon't say anything about it to the other men. But, between ourselves, Captain, I think we'll do well to give Ripley few and unimportantchances this season. Most people can't see where real grit comesin, in baseball"

"Yet you think the lack of grit, or stamina, is just what ailsRip?" asked Captain Purcell keenly. 

"You can judge, from what I've said, " replied Coach Luce. 

"I'm glad then, Coach, for it shows I wasn't so far off the trackin my own private judgment. "

Yet, to hear Fred Ripley tell about the game, it wasn't such asmall affair. He judged his foemen by the fact that they hadto contend with _him_. 

"Five to two is the safest margin we've had yet, " he confidedto those who listened to him at the High School. "More than that, we had Brayton tied down so that, at no time in the game, didthey have any show to break the score against us. Now, if Luceand Purcell fix it up for me to pitch the real games of the season"

"Oh, cut it out, Rip, " advised one listener, good-naturedly. "Brayton is only a fishball team, anyway. Not a real, sturdybeef-eater in the lot. "

The season moved on briskly now. Dick pitched two games, andDarrin one in between Prescott's pair. Dick's first game waswon by a score of one to nothing; his second game, the returndate against Gardiner, was a tie. The game in which Darrin pitchedwas won by a score of three to two. 

Then came a game with a team not much above Brayton's standing. 

"Prescott and Darrin must be saved for some of the bigger games, "decided Coach Luce. "Purcell, don't you think it will be safeto trust Ripley to pitch against Cedarville High School?"

"Yes, " nodded the captain of the nine. "I don't believe Cedarvillecould harm us, anyway, if we put left field or shortstop in thebox. "

Fred Ripley was notified. At once Cedarville became, in his talk, one of the most formidable nines on the state's High School circuit. 

"But we'll skin 'em, you'll see, " promised Fred, through the week. "Be at the game, and see what I can do when I'm feeling well. Cedarville has no chance. "

Ripley was in high spirits all through the week. All throughthat Saturday forenoon he moved about in a trance of exultation. Yet, underneath it all, he was somewhat seedy in a physical sense, for he had been out late the night before to meet Tip and handover some money. 

Late that Saturday forenoon, Lawyer Ripley returned from a businesstrip. Soon after he returned home, and had seen a man in hislibrary, he went in search of his wife. 

"Where's Fred?" demanded the lawyer. 

"He went out up the street, to get a good walk, " replied Mrs. Ripley. "You know, my dear, he is to pitch for Gridley in oneof the biggest games of the season this afternoon. "

"Hm!" said the lawyer. "Well, see here. Let Fred have his luncheon. Don't say a word until then. As soon as he is over with themeal, send him to me in the library. Don't give him any hintuntil he has finished eating. "

"Is---is anything wrong?" asked Mrs. Ripley, turning around quickly. 

"Just a few little questions I want to talk over with the boy, "replied Mr. Ripley. 

It was shortly after one o'clock when Fred stepped into the library. This apartment was really in two rooms, separated by foldingdoors. In the front room Mr. Ripley had his desk, and did hiswriting. Most of his books were in the rear room. At the timewhen Fred entered the folding doors were closed. 

"You wished to see me, sir?" Fred asked, as he entered. 

"Yes, " said his father, pointing to a chair; "take a seat. "

"I hope it isn't anything that will take much time, " hinted Fred. "you know, sir, I've got to be at the field early this afternoon. I am to pitch in one of the biggest-----"

"I'll try to be very brief, " replied the lawyer, quietly. "Fred, as you know, whenever I find I have more money about me than Icare to carry, I put it in the private safe upstairs. Your motherand I have a place where we hide the key to that old-fashionedsafe. But, do you know, I have been missing some money from thatsafe of late? Of course, it would be sheer impudence in me tosuspect your mother. "

"Of course it would, " agreed Fred, with feigned heartiness. Hewas fighting inwardly to banish the pallor that he knew was creepinginto his cheeks. 

"Have you any theory, Fred, that would help to account for themissing of these sums of money?" pursued the lawyer, one handtoying with a pencil. 

"Do you suspect any of the servants?" asked the boy, quickly. 

"We have had all our servants in the family for years, " repliedthe lawyer, "and it would seem hard to suspect any of them. "

"Then whom can you suspect, sir?"

"Fred, do you know, I have had a quiet little idea. I am wellacquainted with the scrapes that young fellows sometimes get into. My experience as a lawyer has brought me much in contact withsuch cases. Now, it is a peculiar thing that young fellows oftenget into very bad scrapes indeed in pursuing their peculiar idealsof manliness. Fred, have you been getting into any scrapes?Have you found out where your mother and I hide the key to thesafe? Have you been helping yourself to the money on the sly?"

These last three questions Lawyer Ripley shot out with great suddenness, though without raising his voice. 

The effect upon young Ripley was electrical. He sprang to hisfeet, his face dramatically expressive of a mingling of intenseastonishment and hurt pride. 

"Dad, " he gasped, "how can you ask me such questions?"

"Because I want the answer, and a truthful one, " replied the lawyer, coolly. "Will you oblige me with the answer? Take your time, and think deliberately. If you have made any mistakes I wantyou to be fair and honorable with me. Now, what do you say, sir?"

Fred's mind had been working like lightning. He had come to theconclusion that it would be safe to bluff his denial through tothe end. 

"Father, " he uttered, earnestly, in a voice into which he triedto throw intense earnestness and sincerity, "I give you my wordof honor, as a Ripley, that I know nothing more about the missingmoney than you have just told me. "

"You are sure of that, Fred?"

"Sure of it, sir? Why, I will take any oath that will satisfy-----"

"We don't want any perjury here, " cut in the lawyer, crisply, and touched a bell. 

The folding doors behind them flew open with a bang. As Fredstarted and whirled about he beheld a stranger advancing towardthem, and that stranger was escorting---Tip Scammon. 

The stranger halted with his jailbird companion some five or sixfeet away. The stranger did not appear greatly concerned. Tip, however, looked utterly abashed, and unable to raise his gazefrom the floor. 

"With this exhibit, young man, " went on the lawyer, in a sorrowfultone, "I don't suppose it is necessary to go much further withthe story. When I first began to miss small sums from the safeI thought I might merely have made a mistake about the sums thatI had put away. Finally, I took to counting the money more carefully. Then I puzzled for a while. At last, I sent for this man, whois a detective. He has come and gone so quietly that probablyyou have not noticed him. This man has had a hiding place fromwhich he could watch the safe. Early last evening you took thekey and opened the safe---robbed it! You took four five-dollarbills, but they were marked. This man saw you meet Tip Scammon, saw you pass the money over, and heard a conversation that hasfilled me with amazement. So my son has been paying blackmailmoney for months!"

Fred stood staggered, for a few moments. Then he wheeled fiercelyon Scammon. 

"You scoundrel, you've been talking about me---telling lies aboutme, " young Ripley uttered hoarsely. 

"I hain't told nothing about ye, " retorted Tip stolidly. "Butthis rich man's cop (detective) nabbed me the first thing thismorning. He took me up inter yer father's office, an' asked mewhether I'd let _him_ explore my clothes, or whether I'd ratherhave a policeman called in. He 'splained that, if he had to callthe poor man's cop, I'd have to be arrested for fair. So I lethim go through my clothes. He found four five-spots on me, andtold me I'd better wait an' see yer father. So I'm here, an'not particular a bit about having to go up to the penitentiaryfor another stretch. "

"It hasn't been necessary, Fred, to question Scammon very far, "broke in the elder Ripley. "That'll do, now, Haight. Since Scammonvolunteered to give the money back, and said he didn't know ithad been stolen, you can turn him loose. "

The detective and Tip had no more than gone when Lawyer Ripley, his face flushed with shame, wheeled about on his son. 

"So you see, Fred, what your word of honor the word of a Ripley---issometimes worth. You have been robbing me steadily. How muchyou have taken I do not know as I have not always counted or recordedmoney that I put in the safe. "

Fred's face had now taken on a defiant look. He saw that hisfather did not intend to be harsh, so the boy determined to braveit out. 

"Haven't you anything to say?" asked the lawyer, after a briefsilence. 

"No, " retorted Fred, sulkily. "Not after you've disgraced meby putting a private detective on my track. It was shameful. "

That brought the hot blood rushing to his father's face. 

"Shameful, was it, you young reprobate? Shameful to you, whenyou have been stealing for weeks, if not for months? It is youwho are dead to the sense of shame. Your life, I fear, youngman, cannot go on as it has been going. You are not fitted fora home of wealth and refinement. You have had too much money, too easy a time. I see that, now. Well, it shall all change!You shall have a different kind of home. "

Fred began to quake. He knew that his father, when in a moodlike this, was not to be trifled with. 

"You---you don't mean jail?" gasped the boy with a yellow streakin him. 

"No; I don't; at least, not this time, " retorted his father. "But, let me see. You spoke of an engagement to do somethingthis afternoon. What was it?"

"_I was_ to have pitched in the game against Cedarville High School. "

"Go on, then, and do it, " replied his father. 

"I---I can't pitch, now. My nerves are too-----"

"Go on and do what you're pledged to do!" thundered Lawyer Ripley, in a tone which Fred knew was not to be disregarded. So the boystarted for the door. 

"And while you are gone, " his father shot after him, "I will thinkout my plan for changing your life in such a way as to save whatevergood may be in you, and to knock a lot of foolish, idle ideasout of your head!"

Fred's cheeks were ashen, his legs shaking under him as he leftthe house. 

"I've never seen the guv'nor so worked up before---at least, notabout me, " thought the boy wretchedly. "Now, what does he meanto do? I can't turn him a hair's breadth, now, from whateverplan he may make. Why didn't I have more sense? Why didn't Iown up, and 'throw myself on the mercy of the court'?"

In his present mood the frightened boy knew he couldn't sit stillin a street car. So he walked all the way to the Athletic Field. He was still shaking, still worried and pale when at length hearrived there. 

He walked into the dressing room. The rest of the nine and thesubs were already on hand, many of them dressed. 

"You're late, Mr. Ripley, " said Coach Luce, a look of annoyanceon his face. 

Outside, the first of the fans on the seats were starting therumpus that goes under the name of enthusiasm. 

"I---I know it. But---but---I---I'm sorry, Mr. Luce. I---I believeI'm going to be ill. I---I know I can't pitch to-day. "

So Coach Luce and Captain Purcell conferred briefly, and decidedthat Dave Darrin should pitch to-day. 

Darrin did pitch. He handled his tricky curves so well that punyCedarville was beaten by the contemptuous score of seventeen tonothing. 

Meanwhile, Fred Ripley was wandering about Gridley, in a stateof abject, hopeless cowardice. 

CHAPTER XXI

DICK IS GENEROUS BECAUSE IT'S NATURAL

"Say, will you look at Rip?"

No wonder Harry Hazelton exploded with wonder as he turned toDan Dalzell and Greg Holmes. 

In this warmer weather, the young men loitered in the school yarduntil the first bell. 

These three members of Dick & Co. Were standing near the gatewaywhen Fred Ripley turned the nearest corner and came on nervously, hurriedly, a hang-dog look in his face. 

What had caught Harry Hazelton's eye, and now made his comradesstare, was the new suit that Fred wore. Gone was all that youngman's former elegance of attire. His stern father had just leftthe boy, after having taken him to a clothing store where Fredwas tricked out in a coarse, ready-made suit that had cost justseven dollars and a half. A more manly boy would have made abetter appearance in such clothes, but it was past Fred Ripley. And he was miserably conscious of the cheap-looking derby thatrested on his head. Even his shoes were new and coarse. 

Ripley hurried by the chums, and across the yard, to be met atthe door by Purcell, who stared at him in candid astonishment. 

"Oh, say, Rip!" demanded Purcell. "What's the bet?"

"Shut up!" retorted Ripley, passing quickly inside. 

"Fine manners, " grinned Purcell to a girl who had also paused, impelled by excusable curiosity. 

Dick, when he came along, heard the news from Hazelton and theothers. 

"What can be the cause of it all?" asked Tom Reade, wonderingly. 

"Oh, some row with his father, " decided Dick slowly. "When Iwas up on Main Street I saw them both going into Marsh's clothingstore. "

"I asked poor old Rip what the bet was, " chuckled Purcell as hejoined the group. 

"Say, if you want to have fun at recess, " proposed Dan Dalzell, "let's about twenty of us, one after the other, go up and askRip what the bet is, and how long it's for?"

"Say, " retorted Dick sternly, eyeing hapless Dan, "I believe, if you got into a fight and knocked a fellow down, you'd jumpon him and keep hammering him. "

"Not much I wouldn't, old safety-valve, " retorted Dan, reddening. "But I see that you're right, Dick. Rip has never been any friendof ours, and to jump him now, when he's evidently down at home, would be too mean for the principles of Dick & Co. "

"I'd rather give the poor fellow a helping hand up, if we could, "pursued young Prescott musingly, "Purcell, do you think there'dbe any use in trying that sort of thing?"

"Why, I don't know, " replied Captain Purcell, easy going and goodhearted. "Barring a few snobbish airs, I always used to likeRip well enough. He was always pretty proud, but pride, in itself, is no bar to being a decent fellow. The only fellow who comesto harm with pride is the fellow who gets proud before he hasdone anything to be proud of. At least, that's the way it alwayshit me. "

"Ripley certainly looked hang-dog, " commented Hazelton. 

"And he must feel mightily ashamed over something, " continuedDick. "I wonder if his father has found out anything about TipScammon and certain happenings of last year. That might accountfor a lot. But what do you say, fellows? If Ripley has beena bit disagreeable and ugly, shall we try to make him feel thatthere's always a chance to turn around and be decent?"

"Why, I'd believe in trying to point out the better road to OldNick himself, " replied Dave Darrin warmly. "Only, I don't believein doing it in the preachy way---like some people do. "

"That's right, " nodded Dick. "See here, Purcell, if Ripley islooking down in the mouth at recess, why don't you go up to himand talk baseball? Then call us over, after you've raised somepoint for discussion. And we'll tip two or three other fellowsto join in, without, of course, getting a crowd. "

"I'll try it, " nodded Purcell. "Though I can't guess how it willturn out. Of course, if Rip gives us the black scowl we'll haveto conclude that no help is wanted. "

It was tried, however, at recess. Purcell went about it withthe tact that often comes to the easy going and big hearted. Soon Purcell had Dick and Dave with Fred and himself. Then theother chums drifted up. Two or three other fellows came along. After some sulkiness at first Fred talked eagerly, if nervously. On the whole, he seemed grateful. 

When Dick reached home that day he felt staggered with astonishment. Waiting for him was a note from Lawyer Ripley, asking the boyto be at the latter's office at half-past two. 

"I shall take it as a very great favor, " the note ran on, "and, from what I know of you, I feel certain that you will be gladto aid me in a matter that is of vast importance to me. "

"What on earth is coming?" wondered Dick. But he made up hismind to comply with the request. 

Promptly to the minute Dick reached the street door of the officebuilding. Here he encountered Dave Darrin and Dalzell. 

"You, too?" asked Dick. 

"It looks as though all of Dick & Co. Had been summoned, " repliedDave Darrin. 

On entering the lawyer's office they found their other three chumsthere ahead of them. Tip Scammon was there, also, looking farfrom downcast. 

Lawyer Ripley looked very grave. He looked, too, like a man whohad a serious task to perform, and who meant to go about it courageously. 

"Young gentlemen, I thank you all, " said the lawyer slowly. "Iam pursuing a matter in which I feel certain that I need yourhelp. There has been some evil connection between Scammon andmy son. What it is Scammon has refused to tell me. I will firstof all tell you what I _do_ know. I am telling you, of course, on the assumption that you are all young men of honor, and thatyou will treat a father's confidence as men of honor should do. "

The boys bowed, wondering what was coming. Lawyer Ripley thereuponplunged into a narration of the happenings of the day before, telling it all with a lawyer's exactness of statement. 

"And now I will ask you, " wound up Mr. Ripley, "whether you cantell me anything about the hold that Scammon seems to have exercisedover my son?"

"That's an embarrassing question, sir, " Dick replied, after therehad been a long pause. 

"Do you know the nature of that hold?"

"Yes, sir. "

"May I ask how you know?"

"I overheard a conversation, one night, between your son and TipScammon. "

"What was the substance of that conversation?" pressed the lawyer. 

"I don't quite see how I can tell you, sir, " Dick responded slowlyand painfully. "I'm not a tale bearer. I don't want to comehere and play the tittle-tattle on your son. "

"I respect your reluctance, " nodded Lawyer Ripley. "But let meput it to you another way. I am the boy's father. I am responsiblefor his career in this world, as far as anyone but himself canbe responsible. I am also seeking what is for the boy's bestgood. I cannot act intelligently unless I have exact facts. Both my son and Scammon are too stubborn to tell me anything. In the cause of justice, Prescott, will you answer me frankly?"

"That word, 'justice, ' has an ominous sound, sir, " Prescott answered. "It is generally connected with the word punishment, insteadof with the word mercy. "

"I suspect that my son has been your very bitter enemy, Prescott, "said the lawyer keenly. "I suspect that he has plotted againstyou and all your chums. Would you now try to shield him fromthe consequences of such acts?"

"Why, sir, I think any boy of seventeen is young enough to haveanother chance. "

"And I agree with you, " cried the lawyer, a sudden new light shiningin his eyes. "Now, will you be wholly frank with me if I promiseyou that my course toward my son will be one that will give himevery chance to do better if he wants to?"

"That's an odd bargain to have to make with a father, " smiledDick. 

"It _is_, " admitted Lawyer Ripley, struck by the force of theremark. "You've scored a point there, Prescott. Well, then, since I _am_ the boy's father, and since I want to do him fulljustice on the side of mercy, if he'll have it---will you tellall of the truth that you know to that boy's father?"

Dick glanced around at his chums. One after another they nodded. Then the High School pitcher unburdened himself. Tip Scammonsat up and took keen notice. When Dick had finished with allhe knew, including the tripping with the pole, and the soft-soapingof the sidewalk before his home door, Tip was ready to talk. 

"I done 'em all, " he admitted, "includin' the throwin' of thebrickbats. The brickbats was on my own hook, but the pole andthe soft soap was parts of the jobs me and Fred put up betweenus. "

"Why did you throw the brickbats on your own hook?" asked LawyerRipley sharply. 

"Why, you see, 'squire, 'twas just like this, " returned Tip. "After I'd done it, if I had hurt Prescott, then I was goin' togo to your son an' scare 'im good an' proper by threatenin' toblab that he had hired me to use them brickbats. That'd beengood fer all his spendin' money, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, and for all he could steal, too, " replied Lawyer Ripley. 

"I didn't know nothing about his stealin' money, " retorted Tip, half virtuously. "I jest thought he had too much pocket moneyfer his own good, an' so I'd help him spend some of it. But, see here, lawyer, ye promised me that, if I did talk, nothin'I told yer should be used against myself. "

"I am prepared to keep that promise, " replied Mr. Ripley coldly. 

The sound of a slight stir came from the doorway between the outerand inner office. There in the doorway, his face ghastly white, his whole body seeming devoid of strength, leaned Fred Ripley. 

"I had almost forgotten that I asked you to come here, " said Mr. Ripley, as he looked up. "How long have you been here?"

"Not very long, perhaps, but long enough to know that Dick Prescottand the rest have been doing all they can to make matters harderfor me, " Fred answered in a dispirited voice. 

"As it happens, they have been doing nothing of the sort, " repliedthe lawyer crisply. "Come in here, Fred. I have had the wholestory of your doings, but it was on a pledge that I would giveyou another chance to show whether there's any good in you. Fred, I can understand, now that you've always thought yourself betterthan most boys---above them. The truth is that you've a longway to go to get up to the level of ordinary, decent, good Americanboyhood. You may get there yet; I hope so. But come, sir, areyou going to make a decent apology to Prescott and his friendsfor the contemptible things you've tried to do to them?"

Somehow, Fred Ripley managed to mumble his way through an apology, though he kept his eyes on the floor all the while. Full ofsympathy for the father who, if proud, was at least upright, Dick and his chums accepted that apology, offered their hands, then tip-toed out, leaving father and son together. 

CHAPTER XXII

ALL ROADS LEAD TO THE SWIMMING POOL

In the next few weeks, if Fred Ripley didn't improve greatly inpopularity, he was at all events vastly quieter and more reservedin his manner. 

Tip Scammon had vanished, so far as common knowledge went. Mr. Ripley, feeling somewhat responsible for that scamp's wrong doing, in that Fred had put him up to his first serious wrong doing, had given Scammon some money and a start in another part of thecountry. That disappearance saved Scammon from a stern reckoningwith Prescott's partners, who had not forgotten him. 

Fred was again a well-dressed boy, also a well-mannered one. He had very little to say, and he kept his snobbishness, if anyremained, well concealed. 

Dick & Co. , after the scene in the lawyer's office, if not exactlycordial with the unhappy junior, at all events remembered thatthey had agreed to "forget. " Nor were Prescott and his chumspriggish enough to take great credit to themselves for their behavior. They merely admitted among themselves that any fellow ought tohave the show that was now accorded to the younger Ripley. 

Baseball had gone off with an hurrah this season, though therehad been an enormous amount of hard work behind all the successes. 

Now, but one game remained. Out of fourteen played, so far, onlyone had resulted in a tie; the others had all been victoriesfor Gridley. 

With the warm June weather commencement was looming near. OneWednesday morning there was a long and tedious amount of practiceover the singing that was to be offered at the close of the schoolyear. 

"Huh! I thought we'd never get through, " snorted Prescott, ashe raced out into the school yard. "And we were kept ten minutesover the usual time for recess. "

"Gee, but it's hot to-day, " muttered Tom Reade, fanning himselfwith his straw hat. 

"Oh, what wouldn't I give, right now, for a good swim down atFoster's Pond!" muttered Purcell moodily. 

"Well, why can't we have it?" suggested Gint. 

"We couldn't get back by the time recess is over, " replied Purcell. 

"The end of recess would be when we _did_ get back, wouldn't it!"asked a senior. 

"Let's go, anyway!" urged another boy, restlessly. 

As students were allowed to spend their recess quietly on thenear-by streets, if they preferred, the girls generally desertedthe yard. 

The spirit of mischievous mutiny was getting loose among the youngmen. Nor will anyone who remembers his own school days wondermuch at that. In June, when the end of the school year is allbut at hand, restraints become trebly irksome. 

Dick's own face was glowing. As much as any boy there he wanteda swim, just now, down in Foster's Pond. Oh, how he wanted it!

"See here, fellows, " Prescott called to some of the nearest ones. "And you especially, Charley Grady, for you're studying to bea lawyer. "

"What has a lawyer to do with the aching desire for a swim?" inquiredGrady. 

"Well, post us a bit, " begged Dick. "What was it the great Burkehad to say about punishing a community?"

"Why, " responded Grady thoughtfully, "Burke laid down a theorythat has since become a principle in law. It was to the effectthat a community cannot be indicted. "

"All of us fellows---_all_ of us might be called a community, don't you think?" queried Dick. 

"Why---er---aha---hem!" responded Grady. 

"Oh, come, now, drop the extras, " ordered Dick. "Time is short. Are we a community, in a sort of legal sense? Just plain yesor no. "

"Well, then, yes!" decided Grady. 

"Whoop!" ejaculated Dick, placing his straw hat back on his headand starting on a sprint out of the yard. His chums followed. Some of the fellows who were nearer the gate tried to reach itfirst. In an instant, the flight was general. 

"Come on, Rip! You're not going to hang back on the crowd, areyou?" uttered one boy, reproachfully. "Don't spoil the communityidea. "

So Fred Ripely tagged on at the rear of the flight. 

"What is it, boys---a fire?" called Laura Bentley. A dozen girlshad drawn in, pressing against the wall, to let this whirlwindof boys go by. 

"Tell you when we get back, " Purcell called. "Time presses now. "

It took the leaders only about four minutes to reach Foster'sPond. Even Ripley and the other tail-enders were on hand abouta minute later. There was a fine grove here, fringed by thickbushes, and no houses near. In a jiffy the High School boys weredisrobing. 

"And the fellow who 'chaws' anyone else's clothes, to-day, " proposedDick, "is to be thrown in and kept in, when he's dressed!"

"Hear! hear!"

Dick was one of the first to get stripped. He started on a run, glided out over a log that lay from the bank, and plunged headlonginto one of the deepest pools. Then up he came, spouting water. 

"Come on, in, fellows! The water's _grand_!" he yelled. 

Splash! splash! The surface of the pond at that point was churnedwhite. The bobbing heads made one think of huckleberries bobbingon a bowl of milk. 

Splash! splash! More were diving in. And now the fun and thefrolic went swiftly to their height. 

"This is the real thing!" vented one ecstatic swimmer. "Downwith 'do-re--mi-fa-sol!"

"As long as we're all to be hanged together, what say if we don'tgo back at all to-day?" questioned Purcell. 

There were some affirmative shouts, but Dick, who had just steppedback on the bank for a moment shook his head. 

"Don't be hogs, fellows!" he urged. "Don't run a good thing intothe ground. We'll have our swim, get well cooled off---and thenwe'd better go back looking as penitent as the circumstances seemto call for. "

"I guess it's the wise one talking, " nodded Purcell, as he climbedto the bank preparatory to another dive. 

For at least twenty minutes the High School boys remained at theirdelightful sport. Then cries started here and there:

"All out! All out!"

Reluctantly the youngsters began to leave the water. 

"Now, don't let anyone lag, " begged Purcell. "As we ran awaytogether, we ought all to go back together. "

So dressing went on apace. Then the fellows began to look ateach other, wonderingly. To be sure, they didn't stand so muchin personal awe of the principal. But then Mr. Cantwell had theBoard of Education behind him. There was Superintendent Eldridge, also, and back of it all, what parents might---oh, hang it, itbegan to look just a bit serious now. 

"Who are the heroes here?" called out one fellow. 

"Why?" demanded another. 

"Well, we need our assured brave ones to lead going back. "

"That's where the baseball squad comes in, then, " nodded Purcell. "School nine and subs first, second team following. Then letthe chilly-footed ones bring up the rear. "

"We can go back in column of fours, " proposed Dick, as he fastenedon his collar, "with no leaders or file-closers. Then it willbe hard to guess at any ring-leaders. "

"That's the best idea yet, " agreed Purcell. "Then, fellows, ablock from the school, let the baseball squad form first, andthen all of the rest of you fall in behind in column of fours, just as you happen along. "

"And keep good ranks, and march the best you know how, " urgedDick. "Unyielding ranks may suggest the community idea to Prin. "

"Then we won't have to explain it, " laughed Grady. 

"Oh, come, now, " shouted another, "don't flatter yourselves thatwe're going to get out of some tall explaining. "

A block from the school the order was given to form fours. Thiswas quickly done. Purcell, Dick, Darrin and Dan Dalzell composedthe first four as the line turned into the yard. 

There at the main doorway the culprits beheld the principal. And that gentlemen certainly looked almost angry about something. The weather indications were for squalls in the High School. 

"Go to your seats in the assembly room, " said the principal, coldly, as the head of the line neared him. As the boys wore no overcoatsit was not necessary to file down to the locker rooms first. They marched into the hat room just off of the assembly room. And here they found Mr. Drake on duty. 

"No conversation here. Go directly to your seats, " ordered Mr. Drake. 

The few girls who were not at classes looked up with eyes fullof mischievous inquiry when the boys entered the big room. Theprincipal and Mr. Drake took their seats on the platform. Thelate swimmers reached for their books, though most of them madebut a pretense of study. Almost at once there was another diversionmade by the girls who were returning from recitations. 

Then the bell was struck for the beginning of the next period. Out filed the sections. The boys began to feel that this ominousquiet boded them no good. Not until closing time did the principalmake any reference to the affair. 

"The young ladies are dismissed for the day, " he remarked. "Theyoung gentlemen will remain. " Clang!

Then a dead silence fell over the room. It was broken, aftera minute, by the principal, who asked:

"Where were you, young gentlemen, when the end of recess bellrang this morning!"

No one being addressed, no one answered. 

"Where were you, Mr. Purcell?"

"Swimming at Foster's Pond, sir. "

"All of you?"

"All of us, sir, I think. "

"Whose idea was it?"

"As I remember, sir, the idea belonged to us all. "

"Who made the first proposal?"

"That would be impossible to say, now, sir. "

"Do you remember anything about it?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What was it?"

"I believe the fellows voted that Mr. Grady, who is studying tobe a lawyer, should represent us as counsel. "

"Ah! I shall be very glad, then, to hear from Judge Grady, " theprincipal dryly remarked. 

"Judge" Grady bobbed up, smiling and confident---or he seemedso. As for the rest of the fellows, the principal's frigid coolnesswas beginning to get on their nerves. 

"Mr. Principal, " began Grady, thrusting his right band in betweenhis vest buttons, "the illustrious, perhaps immortal Burke, onceelucidated a principle that has since become historic, authoritativeand illuminating. Among American and English jurists alike, Burke'sprinciple has been accepted as akin to the organic law and theidea is that a community cannot be indicted. "

It was a fine speech, for Grady had real genius in him, and thiswas the first chance he had ever had. The principal waited untilthe budding legal light had finished. Then Mr. Cantwell clearedhis throat, to reply crisply:

"While I will not venture to gainsay Burke, and he is not hereto be cross-examined, I will say that the indictment of the community, in this instance, would mean the expulsion of all the young menin the High School. To that form of sentence I do not lean. A light form of punishment would be to prohibit absolutely thefinal baseball game of the school season. A sever form wouldbe to withhold the diplomas of the young men of the graduatingsenior class. I think it likely that both forms of punishmentwill be administered, but I shall not announce my decision to-day. It will come later. The young men are dismissed. " Clang!

Dismay would have been a mild name for what the fellows felt whenthey found themselves outside the building. Of the principal, in a rage they were little afraid. But when the principal controlledhis temper he was a man in authority and of dangerous power. 

After his own meal, and some scowling reflection, Mr. Cantwellset out to find his friend and backer in the Board of Education, Mr. Gadsby. That custodian of local education heard Mr. Cantwellthrough, after which he replied:

"Er---um----ah---my dear Cantwell, you can't very well prohibitthe game, or talk of withholding diplomas from the young men ofthe graduating class. Either course would make you tremendouslyunpopular. The people of Gridley would say that you were lackingin---era sense of humor. "

"Sense of humor?" raged the principal, getting up and pacing thefloor. "Is it humorous to have a lot of young rascals runningall over one's authority?"

"Certainly not, " responded Mr. Gadsby. "You should---er---preservediscipline. "

"How am I to preserve discipline, if I can't inflict punishments?"insisted Mr. Cantwell. 

"But you should---er---that is---my dear Cantwell, you shouldmake the punishments merely fit the crimes. "

"In such an outrageous case as to-day's, " fumed the principal, "what course would have been taken by the Dr. Thornton whom youare so fond of holding up to me as a man who knew how to handleboys?"

"Dr. Thornton, " responded Mr. Gadsby, "would have been ingeniousin his punishment. How long were the boys out, over recess time?"

"Twenty-five minutes. "

"Then, " returned Mr. Gadsby, "I can quite see Dr. Thorton informingthe young men that they would be expected to remain at least fivetimes as long after school as they had been improperly away fromit. That is---er---ah---he would have sent for his own dinner, and would have eaten it at his desk, with scores of hungry youngmen looking on while their own dinners went cold. At threeo'clock---perhaps---Dr. Thornton would have dismissed theoffenders. It would be many a day before the boys would tryanything of that sort again on good old Thornton. But you, mydear Cantwell, I am afraid you have failed to make the boys respectyou at all times. The power of enforcing respect is the basis ofall discipline. "

"Then what shall I do with the young men this time?"

"Since you have---er---missed your opportunity, you---er---cando nothing, now, but let it pass. Let them imagine, from dayto day, that sentence is still suspended and hovering over them. "

Wily Dick Prescott had been to see Mr. Gadsby, just before thearrival of the principal. In his other capacity of reporterfor "The Blade" the High School pitcher had said a few earnestwords to his host. Mr. Gadsby, with his eye turned ever towardelection day and the press, had been wholly willing to listen. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE AGONY OF THE LAST BIG GAME

"Ya, ya, ya! Ye gotter do somethings!"

This from Mr. Schimmelpodt. That gentleman was waving one ofhis short, fat arms wildly. It may as well be stated that fromthe smaller extremity of that arm, namely, his hand---a smallcrimson and gold banner attached to a stick cut circles in theair. 

"Go to it, Gridley!"

"Get busy! You can't take a black eye at this end of the season. "

Gridley High School with a season's record of one tied game anda long tally of victories, seemed now in dire straits. 

Sides were changing for the last half of the ninth inning. 

Gridley had taken seven runs. Wayland High School, with six runsalready to their credit, was now going to bat for the last inningunless the score should be tied. 

The perfect June day, just before commencement, had brought outa host. Wayland had sent nearly four hundred people. The totalattendance was past four thousand paid admissions. 

Herr Schimmelpodt, who, since his first enthusiasm, had not misseda game, was now among the most concerned. 

The band was there, but silent. The leader knew that, in thisstate of affairs the spectators wanted to make the noise themselves. 

"Oh, you Dick!"

"Strike 'em out as fast as they come up. "

"Save Gridley!"

"Aw, let somebody have a game, " roared a voice from the Waylandseats, "and we need this one!"

"Prescott, remember the record!"

"No defeats this year!"

"Don't give us one, now!"

Dick & Co. Were in full force on the nine today. True, Dave Darrinsat only on the sub bench to-day, but he was ready to give reliefat any moment if Gridley's beloved pitcher, Prescott, went under. 

Holmes was out in left field; Hazelton was the nimble shortstop;Dalzell pranced at the first bag on the diamond; Tom Reade waseternally vigilant on second base. 

Gridley's High School girls, devoted feminine fans as any in theworld, were breathing soft and fast now. If only Dick, backedat need by the outfield, could keep Wayland from scoring further, then all was well. If Wayland should score even once in thisinning, it would make a tie and call for a tenth inning. If Waylandscored twice---but that was too nerve-racking to contemplate. 

Then a hush fell. The umpire had called for play. 

Dick let drive with his most tantalizing spitball. The leatherfell down gracefully under the Wayland's batsman's guess, andPurcell mitted the ball. 

"Strike one!"

A hopeful cheer went up from Gridley seats, to be met with oneword from Wayland fans:

"Wait!"

Dick served the second ball. Swat! There it went, arching upin the air, a fair hit. As fast as he could leg it went Holmesafter it, and with good judgment. But the ball got there beforeGreg did. In a twinkling, the young left fielder had the ballup and in motion. Tom Reade caught it deftly at second, and wheeledtoward first. But the runner saw his error in leaving first, and slid back in season. 

Turning back, with his lips close together, Dick tried a new batsman. Two strikes, and then the visitor sent out a little pop-overthat touched ground and rolled ere Harry Hazelton could race inand get it, driving it on to first base. 

"Safe at first, " called the umpire, and the other Waylander hadreached second. 

"O-o-o-h!"

"Don't let 'em have it, Dick---_don't_!"

The wail that reached his ears was pathetic, but Prescott paidno heed. He was always all but deaf to remarks from the spectators. He knew what he was trying to do, and he was coming as closeas a hard-worked pitcher could get to that idea at the fag-endof the game. 

The fatigue germ was hard at work in the young pitcher's wrist, but Dick nerved himself for better efforts. Despite him, however, a third batsman got away from him, and from Greg, and now thebases were full. 

"_O-o-oh, Dick_!"

It was a wail, full of despair. Though he paid no direct heedto it the sorely pressed young pitcher put up his left hand towipe the old sweat out of his eyes. His heart was pounding withthe strain of it. Dick Prescott, born soldier, would have diedfor victory, _just_ then. At least, that was what he felt. 

The Wayland man who now stood over the plate looked like a grinningmonkey as he took the pitcher's measure. 

"Go to it, Dickson---kill the ball!" roared the visiting fans. "Just a little two-bagger---that's all!"

Dick felt something fluttering inside. In himself he felt thewhole Gridley honor and fame revolving during that moment. Thenhe resolutely choked down the feeling. The umpire was signalingimpatiently for him to deliver. 

Dick essayed a jump ball. With a broadening grin Dickson of Waylandreached for it vigorously. He struck it, but feebly. Anotherof those short-winded, high-arched pops went up in air. 

There was no hope or chance for Hazelton to get to the spot intime---and Wayland's man away from third was steaming in whilePurcell made the home plate at a bound. 

Dick raced---raced for all he was worth, though his heart feltas if steam had shut down. 

Across the grass raced Prescott, as though he believed he couldmake history in fifths of seconds. 

In his speed he went too far. The ball was due to come down behindhim. 

There was no time to think. Running at full speed as he was, Pitcher Dick rose in the air. It looked like an incredible leap---buthe made it. His hands pulled the slow-moving popball down outof the air. 

Barely did Dick's feet touch the ground when he simply reachedover and dropped the ball at Purcell. 

The captain of the Gridley nine dropped to one knee, hands low, but he took the leather in---took it just the bare part of a secondbefore the Waylander from third got there. 

For an instant the dazed crowd held its breath just long enoughto hear the umpire announce. 

"Striker out! Out at home plate. Two out!"

Then the tumult broke loose. 

For an instant or two Dick stood dizzy just where he had landedon his feet. 

Umpire Davidson came bounding over. 

"Do you want to call for a relief pitcher, Prescott?"

"No---Wayland pitched all through with one man!"

Back to the box marched Dick Prescott, but he took his time aboutit. He had need of a clear head and steadier nerves and muscles, for Wayland had a man again at third, and another dancing awayfrom second. There was plenty of chance yet to lose. 

"Prescott ought to call you out, " whispered Fred Ripley to Dave. 

"And I'd get out there on the dead run, just as you would, Rip. But you know how Dick feels. Wayland went through on one man, and Dick's going to do it if he lives through the next few minutes!"

While that momentary dizziness lasted, something happened thatcaused the young pitcher to flush with humiliation. Sandwichedin between two strikes were called balls enough to send the newbatsman to first, and again the bases were full. One more "badbreak" of this kind and Wayland would receive the tie run as apresent. And then one more---it would be the High School pitcherhanding the only lost game of the season as a gift to the visitors!

Dick braced himself supremely for the next man at bat. 

"Strike one!"

It wasn't the batter's fault. A very imp had sat on the spitballthat Prescott bowled in. 

"Strike two!"

The batsman was sweating nervously, but he couldn't help it. Dick Prescott had fairly forced himself into the form of the firstinning. But it couldn't last. 

Gink! It was only a little crack at the ball, struck rather downward. A grounding ball struck the grit and rolled out toward rightinfield. There was no shortstop here. The instant that Prescotttook in the direction he was on the run. There was no time toget there ahead of the rolling leather. It was Dick's left footthat stopped it, but in the same fraction of a second he bentand swooped it up---wheeled. 

Wayland's man from third base looked three fourths of the wayin. Captain Purcell, half frantic, was doubled up at the homeplate. 

Into that throw Dick put all the steam he had left in. The leathergone from his hand, he waited. His heart seemed to stop. 

To half the eyes that looked on, ball and runner seemed to reachthe home plate at the same instant. The umpire, crouching, squinting, had the best view of all. 

It was an age before Dick, with the mists before his eyes, heardthe faraway words for which thousands waited breathlessly:

"Out at home---three out!"

Three disheartened base runners turned and slouched dispiritedlytoward the dressing rooms. 

"You could have hit that ball a better swipe, " growled Wayland'scaptain to the last man at bat. The victim of the rebuke didn'tanswer. He knew that he had faced a pitcher wholly rejuvenatedby sheer grit and nerve force. 

At its loudest the band was blaring forth "At the Old Ball Game, "and thousands were following with the words. Wayland fans werestrolling away in dejection, but Gridley folks stood up to watchand cheer. 

The whole nine had done its duty in fine shape, but Dick Prescotthad made himself the idol of the Gridley diamond. 

When the band stopped, the cheers welled forth. The lion's sharewas for Prescott, but Darrin was not forgotten. Even Ripley, who had pitched three of the minor games, came in for some notice. 

Dick?

With the strain and suspense gone he felt limp and weak for afew minutes. Under the cold shower he revived somewhat. Yet, when he started homeward, he found that he ached all over. Withthe last game of the season gone by, Dick half imagined that hisright wrist was a huge boil. 

At the gateway Schimmelpodt, that true devotee of sport, waited. As the young High School pitcher came forth Herr Schimmelpodtrested a fat hand on the boy's shoulder, whispering in his ear:

"Ach! But I know vere is dere a _real_ jointed fishpole. Itwas two dollar, but now it stands itself by, marked to one-nineteen. In der morning, Bresgott, it shall be yours. Und listen!"

Dick looked up into the blinking eyes. 

"Dot fishpole for der summer use is goot fine! Und venever yousee me going by bis my vagon, don't you be slow to holler undask me for a ride!"

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

Commencement Day!

For a large percentage of High School boys and girls, the endof the sophomore year marks the end of their schooling. 

This was true at Gridley as elsewhere. When the crowd came forthfrom commencement exercises at the Opera House on this bright, warm June afternoon, there were not a few of the sophomores whowere saying good-bye to the classic halls of instruction. 

Not so, however, with Dick & Co. They were bound all the waythrough the course, and hoped to take up with college or otheracademic training when once good old Gridley High School mustbe left behind. 

"What are you going to do this summer, Prescott?" asked Dr. Bentley, gripping the lad's arm, as Dick stood on the sidewalk chattingwith Dave Darrin. 

"Work, mostly, doctor. I'm getting near the age when fellow shouldtry to bear some of the expense of keeping himself. "

"What will you work at?"

"Why, reporting for 'The Blade. ' I believe I can capture a goodmany stray dollars this summer. "

"Good enough, " murmured Dr. Bentley, approvingly. "But are yougoing to have any spare time?"

"A little, I hope---just about enough for some rest. "

"Then I'll tell you where you can take that rest, " went on themedical man. "My family are going into camp for the summer, inthree days. They'll be over at the lake range, on a piece ofground that I've bought there. You can get over once in a while, and spend a night or two, can't you? Mrs. Bentley charged meto ask you and Darrin, " added the physician. "Belle Meade isgoing to spend the summer in camp with Laura. "

Both boys were prompt with their thanks. 

"Confound it, " muttered Dr. Bentley, "I'm forgetting two thirdsof my message at that. The invitation includes all of Dick &Co. Now remember you'll all be looked for from time to time, and most heartily welcome. "

Both boys were most hearty in their thanks. This took care ofwhatever spare time they might have, for Dave, too, was to bebusy a good deal of the time. He had work as an extra clerk atthe express office. 

Then the two girl chums came along. Dick and Dave strolled alongwith Laura and Belle. The other partners of Dick & Co. Were soonto be seen, their narrow-brimmed straw hats close to bobbing picturehats. 

"Your father gave us a message, Laura, " Dick murmured to the girlbeside him. 

"And you're going to accept it?" asked the girl quickly. 

"At any chance to be honestly away from work, " Dick promised fervently. "Yet at my age a fellow must keep something of an eye towardbusiness, too, Laura. "

"Yes, " she answered slowly, glancing covertly at the bronzed youngface and the strong, lithe body. "You're nearing manhood, Dick. "

"Just about as rapidly as you're growing into womanhood, Laura, "answered the boy. 

Dave and Belle were chatting, too, but what they said wouldn'tinterest very staid old people. 

Gridley was prouder than ever of its athletic teams. The greatrecord in baseball, with Dick & Co. In the team, was somethingworth talking about. 

Lest there be some who may think that a season of baseball withno defeats is an all but impossible record, the chronicler hastensto add that there are, through the length and breadth of theseUnited States, several High School teams every year that makesuch a showing. 

Yet, in baseball, as in everything else, the record is reachedonly by nines like the Gridley crowd, where the stiffest training, the best coaches and the best individual nerve and grit amongthe players are to be found. 

Did Fred Ripley truly make good?

What else happened?

These and various other burning questions must now be answeredin the chronicle of the time to which they belonged. So the readeris referred to the next volume in this series, which is to bepublished at once under the caption: "_The High School Left End;Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on the Football Gridiron_. "

At the same time, no interested reader will allow himself to overlookthe second volume in the "_High School Boys' Vacation Series_, "which runs parallel with this present series. All the wonderfulsummer vacation adventures that followed the sophomore year ofPrescott and his chums will be found in the volume published underthe title, "_The High School Boys' In Summer Camp; Or, The DickPrescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven_. " It is a thrillingstory that no follower of the fortunes of these lads can affordto overlook. 

THE END