CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH A FIRE ALARM AIDS MANNIG, AND THE FOUR LEAVE HURRIEDLY
Things looked bad, indeed, for the visiting team. The watchers on thegrand stand were on their feet, shouting continuously. Not a few werejoining the throng on the turf, scurrying to places along the baselines. Sullivan was plainly rattled, and his first delivery went sowild that Conly, try as he might, could not reach it. In raced therunner from third, and, close behind him, the second man. But althoughthe first reached home safely the other met with misfortune, and wasnailed a yard from the plate. But that was only one out, there wasstill a man on third, and the score was five to four. And, anotherfactor in Laurelville’s favor, her captain and best batsman was facingSullivan with a cool, smiling face. One run would tie the score; twowould give the home team the lead. What wonder, then, that Laurelvillewent wild with delight, and utterly forsook the grand stand?
Conly and Sullivan met midway between plate and pitcher’s box, andconferred in whispers to an accompaniment of derisive jeers from thesupporters of the Green-and-White. Then the pitcher returned to hisplace, twirled his arms, and shot the ball forward.
_Bang!_
The Laurelville captain had caught it for a nice bunt toward firstbase, a slow-rolling, erratic bunt that sent pitcher and first basemanscurrying for it. And in from third raced the runner. But Simpson foundthe ball speedily, scooped it up, and with the same movement sent it into catcher. The runner from third saw defeat before him and drew up.Then he turned back, and in a twinkling catcher and third baseman wererunning him down between them. He turned and twisted while the ballflew back and forth above his head until, at last, almost hemmed in, hemade a desperate lunge toward third, sent Burns staggering aside outof his path, and reached his refuge in safety. Burns angrily picked upthe ball which had been jostled from his hand, while the Laurelvillesupporters cheered and shouted. For, although there had been, contraryto their captain’s expectations, no tally, the captain himself wassitting calmly on the bag at second. Then once more Fortune turned herback on the wearers of the Blue. Sullivan struck the next man withthe ball, and after he had been rubbed and condoled with by half theLaurelville team, he went limping and grinning to first and filled thebases again!
Once more Conly strove to calm the erratic Sullivan, and once more thecrowd hooted as catcher and pitcher whispered together. Then Sullivanwent back and faced the next batsman. Up shot his arms, and forwardsped the sphere.
“Ball!” droned the umpire.
Again, and,
“Two balls!” was the verdict.
“Pick out a good one!” called the captain from where he was dancingabout at second. And the coaches shrieked and leaped in their effortsto further disturb the equanimity of the already badly rattled pitcher.Sullivan rubbed a hand in the dirt, wiped it on his trousers, andsettled the ball in it carefully, striving to collect himself.
“Take your time, Jim!” called Conly cheerfully. “Plenty of time, oldman!”
But there wasn’t, for at that moment from the center of town came thewild alarm of a clanging fire bell!
For an instant everyone stood as though turned to stone; everyone savethe Mannig pitcher. Perhaps he didn’t hear. At all events he shot theball across the plate, right over the very center of it, and the umpirecalled a strike. And, as though that had been the signal, all theLaurelville players began shouting at once. Down on second the captainwas calling wildly for “Time.” The umpire was surrounded by half adozen players each explaining breathlessly. So “Time” was announced.Fultz came racing in from center field.
“What’s time taken out for?” he cried.
“Fire!” shouted the Laurelville captain, looking excitedly about forhis cap.
“What’s that got to do with the game?” demanded Fultz.
“Why, we’re most of us members of the company,” was the reply. “We’llgo on with the game after a bit. Come on, fellows! We’ll have to runfor it!”
And led by their redoubtable captain the Laurelville Baseball Teamstreaked off the field in the direction of the town. And behind ithurried most of the spectators, for a fire promised far greaterexcitement than even a baseball game. The Mannig players trotted upwith surprised expressions on their faces, demanding to know what thetrouble was. Burns turned to the umpire.
“Mr. Umpire,” he said, “we’re ready to go on with the game.”
The umpire looked nonplused.
“Er--well, we’ll wait awhile and then, if the other team doesn’t showup, I’ll have to call the game.”
In five minutes the field was deserted save for the Mannig playersand a handful of Mannig supporters. Everyone else was scurrying alongthe road leading to town. Dan, a quiet smile on his face, drew Nelsonaside.
“Let’s get out of this,” he whispered. “It’s not going to be healthyaround here after a bit. Let’s move on to the next town.”
Nelson looked perplexedly at Dan’s smiling countenance for a moment.Then, scenting mischief, he nodded and went in search of Tom and Bob.Without explaining, he announced that they were breaking camp, and in atwinkling the Four were following the crowd. On the way Dan told whathe knew about it, and the others laughed until the tears streamed downtheir dusty faces--all save Bob. Bob smiled a bit, but he shook hishead too.
“It’s kind of a low trick, Dan,” he said.
“But I didn’t do it,” protested Dan. “I merely told Fultz what I hadheard. It wasn’t my fault if----”
“But you expected him to do it!”
“What of it? Of course I expected him to; it was just the sort of atrick I’d expect these muckers to do!”
“That sounds well from you,” answered Bob dryly.
“Oh, get out! I didn’t tell him to do it; I didn’t even suggest it!Why, when that bell rang I was so surprised----!”
Bob had to laugh in spite of himself.
“Well, just at present what we’ve got to do is to get our things fromthe hotel before the irate citizens of this charming village discoverthat they’ve been hoaxed! And I move that we move faster!”
And they did. When they reached the hotel they found it deserted savefor a sixteen-year-old boy, the proprietor’s son, who was evidently notstaying there from inclination. They found him on the sidewalk, lookinglongingly toward where at the far end of the main street a confusedrabble was pouring around a distant corner.
“Where’s the fire?” asked Dan.
“I don’t know exactly,” was the excited reply, “but it’s somewhere overby the railroad.”
“How far is that?” asked Dan.
“Pretty near a mile. And they say it’s a daisy! Maybe it’s Tompkins’slumber yard!”
The Four heaved sighs of relief. Before Tompkins’s lumber yard wasreached by the valiant fire fighters they hoped to be well on theirroad. Very quickly they rescued their packs, slung them on theirshoulders, and, to use Tom’s expression, “hit the trail.” Once out ofsight of the hotel they paused while Bob consulted his map.
“Cupples’ Harbor is three miles,” announced Bob. “That’s where we’dbetter make for.”
“All right,” responded Nelson, with a laugh. “Any place out of here!”
“How do we go?” Dan asked.
“Straight ahead and turn to the left about four blocks down,” was thereply. So straight ahead they went, and allowed no grass to grow undertheir feet. When they had almost reached their turning they heard agreat noise behind, and paused to see what it was. Down the streettrotted the two Mannig coaches filled with their exultant passengers.The Mannig war whoop aroused the echoes of the almost deserted town.
“The umpire’s called the game,” chuckled Dan.
When the first coach was abreast of them they were recognized andloudly cheered. They waved their hands in response while the occupantsof the coaches showered unintelligible messages upon them. But as thesecond load went by, one remark met their ears which they understood.Fultz, beaming and red of face, leaned far out over the side, made amegaph
one of his hands, and shouted:
“You fellows had better get out of here pretty quick!”
Dan winked merrily.
“Trust us!” he shouted back.
The fire bell which had been ringing incessantly for ten minutesstopped suddenly as the Four turned from the main street and smelledthe salt air from the ocean. In ten minutes they were well out ofLaurelville, and slackened their pace.
“What’ll happen?” asked Tom. “When they find out, I mean.”
“They’ll be so mad they won’t be able to see straight,” chuckled Dan.“And if they find any Mannig citizen roaming around, they’ll probablymake life very interesting for him!”
“Do you suppose they’ll be able to prove that Mannig did it?” asked Bob.
“Sure to. They’ll find that the fellow who brought the alarm was astranger, and guess at once.”
“Still, I don’t see how they are going to prove it!”
“Well, maybe they won’t,” allowed Dan. “But there’s one thing you canbet on, and that is, no matter whether Mannig gets the purse or not,there won’t be any more baseball games between the two towns for awhile!”
“And a good thing too!” said Nelson. “That sort of baseball makes metired!”
They reached Cupples’ Harbor at a little before six, very hungry, andsomewhat tired. After supper Dan said:
“Say, do you fellows realize that it’s just a week since we left NewYork?”
“A week!” shouted Tom.
“Get out!” said Nelson. “It seems a month!”
“It surely does,” Bob agreed. “But we’ve had a pretty good time so far,haven’t we?”
“Dandy!” said Tom. Nelson laughed.
“We’re forgetting about being robbed, and going hungry, and all therest of it!”
“That’s so,” answered Dan. “Gee! Weren’t we a disgusted lot the day wetrailed into Millford? For two cents I’d have jumped a train and gonehome!”
“Guess that was the way with all of us,” said Bob. “Only we didn’t havethe two cents!”
The next morning when they tumbled out of their beds they found therain dashing against the windows, and an old-fashioned sou’easterhaving things pretty much its own way. To continue their journey in theface of such a storm was out of the question, and so they got theirsoiled clothes together, and made arrangements to have them washed inthe hotel, and dried in time for them to go on the next day.
There were few guests left, and the Four had the house almost tothemselves that day. After breakfast they got into their rubberponchos, and braved the tempest. The surf was fine, and they watcheda long time from the shelter of an old hut on the point, about a milefrom the hotel. They got pretty wet, but it was great fun; and theroaring fire in the hotel soon dried them off after they got back. Therest of the day passed quickly enough with books and cards, and theywent early to bed.
The next morning the rain still fell, but the wind had died away, andafter a consultation they decided to go on. Their clean clothes werebrought up to them, and after they had put some of them on, Nelsonsaid he felt respectable for the first time in three days. The walkingwas hard, but they did five miles by half-past eleven, and stopped atSeapoint for luncheon or dinner, whichever it might turn out to be. Ithappened to be dinner, and, as they were all frightfully hungry, theyate a good deal, and felt very little like continuing their journeyafterwards. Tom was for spending the night where they were, but hewas overruled, and at two o’clock they set out for Beach Neck, eightmiles farther east. The rain, which had once or twice sobered down to adrizzle, now held up entirely, although the clouds still hung low andominous. The road, however, constantly got worse, and it was slow going.
“I see where we get a late dinner to-night,” said Dan, at about threeo’clock. “I’ll bet we haven’t gone two miles in the last hour!”
“Told you we’d ought to stay where we were,” said Tom.
“And I guess you were right, Tommy, my boy. Never say die, though!” AndDan hitched his pack into place, and trudged on. By four, they werestill but little more than halfway to Beach Neck, and Bob got his mapout.
“Well,” asked Nelson, “is there any sign of civilization around here?”
“Not very near,” answered Bob. “But, say, the railroad strikes the roadnear here somewhere--just beyond, I guess--and it’s lots nearer thanthe road we’re on.”
“Nearer what?”
“I mean it’s shorter that way to Beach Neck than it is by the road.”
“Gee! Then let’s take it!”
“Railroads are mighty hard walking, though,” said Tom.
“Can’t be much harder than this sloppy, sandy quagmire,” said Dan. “Imove we hit the ties.”
So they did when, as presently happened, the railroad came into sightand ran along the highway in a neighborly fashion for a little way.It was hard walking, as Tom had predicted, especially at first. Butafter awhile they got into what Dan called “the swing of it,” and itwasn’t so bad. At least, as Bob pointed out, it was a deal drier. ButTom answered that he didn’t see that that counted for much, because hisfeet were sopping wet already.
Half an hour later, without any warning, the rain started in again in afashion that almost took their breath away. It came down in torrents,so that they could see scarcely a yard ahead of them, and made such aracket, besides, that Bob called a halt.
“Look here,” he gasped, “we can’t see nor hear anything, and this trackisn’t a healthful place for us; a train could come along and knock usinto the next county without our getting so much as a hint of it.”
They were at the beginning of a little cut, where the track had beenbuilt through a wooded hill.
“Gee!” sputtered Tom, and stumbled down the embankment to the sideof the track. The others followed. The raindrops lashed their rubberponchos, drenched their heads, and trickled down their backs. Barry,with what remained of his tail tucked as far under him as it would go,sought shelter from the pelting drops at Dan’s feet.
“Let’s break for cover!” shouted Nelson.
They broke. Nelson led the way, stumbling along what at one timehad been an embankment, on which a spur track had run a few hundredyards to a gravel quarry. The quarry had become almost obliteratedwith underbrush and trees, and it was under one of the largest of thelatter that the Four finally drew up, panting. The hill rose abruptlybehind them, but the sheets of rain were so dense that they could makeout but little of their surroundings. The tree, a young maple withwide-spreading branches, kept the worst of the torrent off them for themoment.
“These ponchos are all very nice,” said Dan, “but they have theirlimitations. I’ll bet you’d get six gallons of water out of me if youwrung me. Can’t we find a better place than this? The roof’s leaking,and the merry little raindrops are playing tag down my back.”
“How far do you suppose we are from Beach Neck?” asked Nelson.
“At least a mile,” answered Bob. “You fellows stay here a minute, andI’ll look around and see if there isn’t a better shelter.”
He brought the poncho closer about his neck, and retied it.
“If I yell, you answer. I may get lost in this drizzle.”
Then he stepped out from under the tossing, dripping branches, and waslost to sight almost instantly. The others waited silently, their handsin their pockets for warmth. After awhile Bob shouted, and presentlyrejoined them.
“I’ve found an old shed or something over here. Come on.”
He led the way at a run, and they raced after him, gasping for breathas the solid curtains of rain dashed into their faces. Then they wereunder the lee of a building, Bob was wrenching open a door which hungfrom one leather hinge, and in a moment they were inside, blinking thewater from their eyes. At first it was too dark in there to see much,but presently as they became accustomed to it they began to make outobjects in the gray gloom.
The hut, for it was scarcely more, was about twenty feet long andtwelve feet wide. There was one door, th
rough which they had entered,and two windows, one still containing the remnants of a sash, andthe other having been roughly boarded up. Along the back of the hutremnants of a double tier of wooden bunks remained. In the centerof the floor, resting on four bricks, was a rusty stove. At one timethere had been a pipe leading through the roof, as the round holethere indicated. But now the pipe was gone, and the hole leaked waterlike a spout. The place was littered with rubbish, old newspapers, tincans, and bottles, a broken pick, and a worn-out pair of overalls.Bob lighted a match, and they explored, kicking their way through the_débris_.
“Not what you’d call a first-class hotel,” observed Dan.
“No,” said Tom. “And it’s evidently very much on the European plan.”
“Unless you can eat tin cans, Tommy,” answered Bob. “But it’s dry,anyhow, and that’s something. And seems to me we might manage a fire inthat stove with some of this truck.”
“We’ll be smoked out.”
“We might leave the door open. Anyhow, let’s see.”
So they stuffed the old stove full of paper, added a few pieces of woodwhich they found, and touched it off. It was smoky, there was no doubtabout that, but it looked cheerful, and after a minute or two even gavesome warmth. The rain drove in through the door at times, and preventedthe smoke from going out, but save that it occasioned an epidemic ofcoughing, the fire was quite a success.
“Let’s see if we can’t get some of that wood from the bunks,” suggestedNelson.
It was hard work until Dan thought of the broken pick. He showed thata pick may be used as an ax when occasion demands, and soon they hadquite a respectable pile of firewood by the stove. Bob borrowed theimplement, and tore off the boarding from the window, thus supplyingmore fuel, and creating a cross draught that cleared a good deal of thesmoke out. By this time the stove was getting red hot, and they stoodaround it, having thrown aside their ponchos, and steamed and regainedtheir good humor.
“Say, Nel,” asked Dan, “what does this remind you of?”
“Turkish bath,” answered Nelson.
“No, but do you remember the hut in the woods at Chicora last summer?This rain’s a dead ringer for that one, except that there isn’t anythunder and lightning.”
“Don’t suggest it,” warned Bob.
“Yes, and do you remember how scared you were at that skeleton?”laughed Nelson.
“You don’t say?” drawled Dan. “I guess I wasn’t the only one who wasscared. If Bob hadn’t grabbed you as you went through the door, you’dhave been running yet.”
“Pshaw!” said Nelson with a grin. “I wasn’t scared; I was just goingfor assistance.”
“I suppose there’s no supper for us to-night,” said Tom hopelessly.
“Supper? What do you want supper for?” asked Bob. “Didn’t you eatenough dinner to last you a week?”
“We’re a lot of idiots not to keep some chocolate or something of thatsort in our pockets,” said Nelson. “You bet that when I get to a storeI’m going to lay in a supply.”
“Wish I had some now,” wailed Tom.
“We might eat Barry,” suggested Bob.
“You might get killed too,” said Dan grimly. “This old rain will haveto hold up after a while.”
“It’s holding us up just at present,” observed Nelson.
And apparently it was contented to continue doing that, for the opendoorway turned from a misty-gray oblong to a black, and still thedownpour continued. There wasn’t a watch among them, and so they had noway of telling time.
“Well,” said Bob, filling the stove up again, “we’ve got a dry placeto sleep, and that’s something. I vote we go to bed as soon as we cansleep, and get an early start. Beach Neck can’t be far off, and we canmake up for supper at the breakfast table.”
“Sounds good to me,” answered Dan. “But I’m not the least bit sleepy;only hungry.”
“Same here,” murmured Tom wistfully. He was sitting on the floor asnear to the stove as he could get without scorching, and Barry wascurled up in his lap. “If you and I had a dog biscuit, Barry, we coulddo a dandy trick with it, couldn’t we?”
But Barry only wagged his stump of tail drowsily.
“He’s the only philosophic one among us,” said Nelson. “He didn’t havea tenth as much dinner as we did, and look at him! Not a whimper!”
Whereupon Barry suddenly sat up, pricked his ears, and growled. Bob andTom began to laugh, but Dan held up his hand.
“Wait a minute!” he whispered. “Barry hears something.”
The dog slipped stealthily from Tom’s lap and moved toward the door,sniffing and growling. They listened and watched. Then simultaneouslyBarry broke into fierce barking, and a face appeared in the dark frameof the doorway.