CHAPTER XXIV
PITCHFORK'S TALL HAT
There was a buzz of excitement among the college students when thenotice had been read, calling for a meeting of the athletic committee,to straighten out a financial tangle. There were various comments, and,though some remarked that it was "always that way," and that a "fewfellows had to be depended on for the money," and like sentiments, themajority of opinion was that the sum needed would quickly be subscribed.
"Why don't they make the ball nine a stock concern?" asked MortEddington, whose father was an "operator" in Wall street. "If they soldstock, lots of fellows would be glad to buy."
"Yes, considering that the nine has made a barrel of money every year,it would be a paying proposition," added Holly Cross. "But we don't dobusiness that way, Eddington, as you'll learn when you've been here morethan one term. What money we have left over at the end of the seasongoes to help some college club, or a team that hasn't done so well.We're not stock jobbers in Randall."
"That's all right. Maybe you'll be glad of some money you could havefrom selling stock, before you're through," sneered the "operator's"son.
"Oh, I guess not," responded Dutch. "The fellows will toe the mark withthe rocks all right."
"My uncle says it's all in how a team is managed," began a voice, andFord Fenton strolled up. "My uncle says----"
"Get out of here, you shrimp!" cried Holly Cross, making a rush atFord. "If your uncle heard you, he'd take you out of this college fordisgracing him."
"That's right," agreed Dutch, making a playful attempt to trip up Ford,which the much-uncled youth skillfully avoided.
"You're right, just the same," declared Bert Bascome, who came up atthat juncture. "The team hasn't been managed right, and I'm going tohave something to say about it at the meeting."
The session called by Tom to consider financial matters was wellattended. Tom, by general consent, was made chairman.
"You all know what we're here for," began the captain, who was not fondof long speeches. "The nine needs money to help it out of a hole."
"Who got it in the hole?" asked Bascome with a sneer.
"Bang!" went Tom's gavel.
"You'll have a chance to speak when the time comes," said the pitchersharply. "I'll be through in a minute."
Bascome sat down, muttering something about "manager" and "money."
"We need cash," went on Tom, "to carry us over a certain period. Afterthat we'll have plenty. We haven't made as much as we expected. Now we'dlike subscriptions, and if any fellow feels that he can't afford to givethe money outright, don't let that stand in his way. We'll only borrowit, and pay it back at the end of the season. Of course, if any onewants to give it without any strings on it, so much the better. I've gotten dollars that goes that way."
"So have I!"
"Here too!"
"Put me down for fifteen!"
"I've got five that isn't working!"
These were some of the cries that greeted Tom's closing words.
"I'll let the treasurer take it," announced the chairman. "Get busy,Snowden. We've got enough now to take the team out of town."
Phil, who was sitting near Sid, looked at his chum, and remarked:
"You're going to help us out, aren't you, Sid? Seems to me I saw youwith a fair-sized roll yesterday."
"I--I'd like to help, first rate," answered Sid, in some confusion,"only I'm broke now."
Phil did not reply, but there was a queer look on his face. He waswondering what Sid had done with his money. This was the second time hehad unexpectedly "gone broke."
Subscriptions were pouring in on Snowden, and it began to look as ifTom's prophecy would hold good, and that the boys only need be told ofthe needs of the nine to have them attended to. Bert Bascome, who hadbeen whispering with Ford Fenton, and some of his cronies, suddenlyarose.
"Mr. Chairman," began Bascome.
"Mr. Bascome," responded Tom.
"I rise to a question of personal privilege," he went on pompously.
"What is it?" asked Tom, trying not to smile.
"I would like to know why it is that the nine hasn't made money enoughto carry itself so far this season, when it has played a number ofgames, and won several?" went on Bascome.
"One reason is that the attendance was not large enough to coverexpenses, and leave a sufficiently large sum to be divided between ourteam and the ones we played," stated the captain, wondering what Bascomewas driving at.
"I would like to inquire if it is not because the team was not properlymanaged?" shot out Bascome. "I believe that if Ford Fenton had beenelected we----"
"Drop it!"
"Dry up!"
"Put him out!"
"Treason!"
"Fresh! Fresh!"
A score of lads were on their feet, shouting, yelling, demanding to berecognized, shaking their fists at Bascome and uttering dire threats.
"Mr. Chairman, may I spake wan wurd!" cried Bricktop Molloy, in hisexcitement lapsing into a rich brogue.
Tom was banging away with his gavel, but he managed to make his voiceheard above the tumult.
"Mr. Bascome has the floor!" he cried.
"Put him out!"
"Who is he, anyhow?"
"Whoever heard of Bascome?"
Again the cries; again the banging of the gavel, and at last Tomsucceeded in producing quiet.
"Mr. Bascome has the floor," the chairman announced. "Do I understandthat you ask that as a point of information?" and Tom gazed at thewealthy freshman, who, through all the tumult, had maintained hisplace, sneeringly indifferent to the threats made against him.
"That's what I want to know," he stated.
"I'll let the entire college answer that if necessary," declared Tom."Mr. Bascome has asked a question----"
"Don't answer him!" yelled Dutch.
Bang! went the gavel. From his corner where he had been seated, doingsome figuring, Ed Kerr arose--his face white.
"Mr. Chairman! A question of personal privilege!" he cried.
"Go on!" answered Tom, forgetting his parliamentary language.
"I beg to tender my resignation as manager of the Randall baseballnine!" cried Ed.
"No! No!"
"We won't take it!"
"Make him sit down!"
"Don't listen to him!"
"Let's haze Bascome!"
"Fellows, will you be quiet?" begged Tom. "I won't recognize anyoneuntil you're quiet!" and he banged away.
Gradually there came a hush, while both Bascome and Kerr remained ontheir feet.
"There is a question before the house," went on the captain, "and untilthat is settled I can't listen to anything else. Mr. Bascome wants toknow whether the present financial trouble of the nine is not due to themanager. How do you answer him?"
"No! No! No!" came in a great chorus.
Tom turned to Ed Kerr.
"Are there any who think otherwise?" asked the chairman.
"Yes," called Bascome, and he was supported by half a dozen, includingFord Fenton. There were groans of protest, but Tom silenced them.
"I think Mr. Bascome has his answer," declared the chairman. "Youhave an almost overwhelming vote of confidence, Mr. Manager, andI congratulate you. Is there any further business to come beforethe meeting. Oh, yes, I almost forgot. How are you making out, Mr.Treasurer?"
"Fine!" cried Snowden. "All we need and more, too."
"Good! Then the meeting is adjourned. We don't need any motion," and Tomstarted to leave the little platform.
"Look here!" blustered Bert Bascome, "I'm a member of the athleticcommittee, and you can't carry things in this high-handed manner. I movethat we go into executive session and consider the election of a newmanager. Mr. Kerr has resigned, as I understand it."
"Forget it!" advised Dutch Housenlager, and he stretched out his foot,and skillfully tripped up the noisy objector, who went down in a heap,with Ford Fenton on top of him.
"Here! Quit! I'll have you expelled for that!" spluttered Ba
scome,rising and making a rush for Dutch. But he was surrounded by a mass ofstudents, who laughed and joked with him, shoving him from side to sideuntil he was so mauled and hauled and mistreated that he was glad tomake his escape.
"Little rat!" muttered Holly Cross, as he saw Bascome and Ford going offtogether. "That's all they're good for--to make trouble."
"Yes," agreed Tom, "Bascome's been sore ever since he couldn't have hisway about electing Ford Fenton manager. But I guess we're out of thewoods now. Get in good shape for the Richfield game Saturday, fellows."
The crowd rushed from the gymnasium, laughing and shouting, and refusingto listen to Kerr, who still talked of resigning, though he was finallyshown that the objection to him amounted to nothing. It was still lightenough for some practice, and most of the lads headed for the diamond.Tom, Phil and Sid walked along together. As they passed under the sidewindow of the East Dormitory, where the freshmen and seniors roomed,Phil spied, hanging from a casement, a tall, silk hat.
"Get on to the tile!" he cried. "Some blooming freshman must have hungit there to air, ready for a shindig to-night. Bet you can't hit it,Tom. Two out of three. If you do I'll stand for sodas for the bunch."
"It's a go!" agreed the pitcher.
"Here's a ball," remarked Sid, handing Tom one. "Let's see what you cando."
Tom fingered the horsehide, glanced critically at the hat, which hung ona stick out of the window, and then drew back his arm.
"Here goes!" he cried, and, an instant later the ball was whizzingthrough the air. Straight as the proverbial arrow it went, and soskillfully had Tom thrown, that the spheroid went right into thehat--and, came out on the other side, through the top of the crown,making a disastrous rent. Then ball and hat came to the ground together.
"Fine shot!" cried Phil admiringly.
"That hat won't do duty to-night," observed Sid. "You knocked the topclean out, Tom," and he ran forward to pick it up. As he did so he wasaware of an indignant figure coming from the dormitory. So, in fact,were Phil and Tom. A moment later, as Sid held the ruined silk hat inhis hands, Professor Emerson Tines confronted the lads.
"May I ask what you young gentlemen are doing with my hat?" he asked infrigid tones.
"Your--your hat?" stammered Tom.
"My hat," repeated the stern teacher. "I was a witness to your act ofvandalism. You may come with me to Dr. Churchill at once!"