CHAPTER V
DICK VISITS THE POINT
On Wednesday the Clearfield Baseball Club reported for practice. Therewas a full attendance, with the exception of Tom Haley. Gordon confinedthe hour's work to fielding, however, and Tom's absence was not felt.Fudge had purchased a brand-new High School uniform and Pete Robey hadbeen lucky enough to borrow one from a boy who had played on the teamseveral years before. As the shirts and caps held only the letter "C,"there was nothing misrepresentative about the gray uniforms. Of course,the fact that the C was purple and that the stockings were of the sameroyal hue might lead one to mistake the team for the High School nine;but Gordon had consulted the principal, Mr. Grayson, in the matter, andMr. Grayson had given it as his opinion that, so long as they did notpretend to be the High School team, there could be no harm in wearingtheir school uniforms.
Most of the fellows had not played since the final game with Springdale,nearly a month before, and were consequently rather out of practice.Muscles were stiff, and that first day's work only produced soreness.But by Saturday the fellows were pegging the ball around with theirold-time ginger and running and sliding with their accustomed agility.Tom pitched to the batters on Friday, and the result proved that battingpractice was far from being a waste of time. Even Gordon, who had headedthe batting list that Spring, found that his eye was bad and that hecould connect with Tom's easy offerings scarcely better than thetail-enders.
Fudge plunged into the business with heart and soul, determined to makehimself not only a useful member of the outfield but a regular Ty Cobbor Home-Run Baker at the bat. I regret to have to state that for sometime Fudge's fielding was not at all spectacular and that he never--orat least never that summer--threatened to dispute Mr. Cobb's supremacywith the stick. But they didn't expect great things from Fudge; and astime went on he developed a very clever judgment in the matter of flyballs and even became able to throw with some accuracy to the infield.
Meanwhile, Dick had entered into correspondence with some half dozenbaseball teams in not too distant towns, and already a game had beenscheduled with Lesterville, who, to Dick's surprise and satisfaction,offered to pay Clearfield's expenses if it would visit Lesterville.Manager Lovering promptly agreed and the date of the contest was fixedfor the second Saturday following the Rutter's Point game. On Fridaymorning Dick and Caspar Billings again met and completed arrangements.Caspar, a boy of Dick's own age, took a great liking to the Clearfieldmanager, and insisted on his staying to luncheon with him on thatoccasion, and it was on the Billings' veranda, within a stone's throw ofthe waves, that the two talked it all over.
Caspar was a fine-looking youth, rather large but well conditioned, withdark hair and eyes, a ready smile, and a jovial laugh. He lived in NewYork, but had been spending his summers at the Point for several years.Dick met Caspar's mother and two older sisters at luncheon, but Mr.Billings was not present, and Dick gathered that he remained in New Yorksave for an occasional week-end. When Caspar explained that Dick wastutoring Harold Townsend, Mrs. Billings shook her head pessimistically.
"I'm afraid," she said, "you'll find him rather difficult. He isn'texactly what I'd call a nice-dispositioned boy."
"Come, mother, don't discourage Lovering at the start," laughed Caspar."We all know that the kid's horribly spoiled, but then Lovering isn'tgoing to be a governess to him!"
"I don't want to discourage him, dear, but I thought it only right heshould know that--well, if he isn't very successful, it won't bealtogether his fault. Mrs. Townsend is a dear woman, but I can't admirethe way she has brought up that boy."
"His brother has already warned me," replied Dick, with a smile. "I'mprepared for the worst. So far, Harold has behaved very well. He doesn'tlike to study much, but he hasn't--well, lain down in the shafts yet."
"He will, though," laughed Caspar. "And if you don't keep a tight reinhe will bust the shafts! That brother of his is a nice chap, though. Bythe way, he's going to play first base for us, Lovering."
"Who is your pitcher?" asked Dick.
"I--we aren't quite sure. We expect it will be Mason, but he hasn't comeyet. If he doesn't show up we'll have to find some one else. You knowMorris Brent, don't you? He's on the team, too. Then there's PinkNorthrop and Jim House and Gilbert Chase and Charlie Leary and--let'ssee; oh, yes, Billy Houghton. And Mason, if he gets here in time. Howmany's that? Never mind. I dare say I've forgotten one or two. I guesswe'll average a year or so older than you chaps, but you have beenplaying together, and I guess that will equalize things. That field overbehind the hotel isn't the best in the world, but it's not bad in theinfield."
"What position do you play?" asked Dick, when they were back on theveranda.
"Third usually. I'm not particular. I'm not much of a player, but I geta lot of fun out of it. I've tried two years running for the team atschool and haven't made it yet."
"What school do you go to?"
"St. George's. We turn out some pretty fair ball teams there. I'm goingto try again next Spring. It's my last year, and if I don't make it thenI'm a goner."
"I suppose you're going to college, though?"
"No; my father doesn't want me to. Says he needs me with him in theoffice. I don't mind--very much. Of course, I'd like to go; 'most everyfellow I know at school is going. Maybe father will change his mindbefore Spring. What about you, Lovering?"
"College?" Dick shook his head. "I'd like it mighty well, too, but itcosts too much. Funny how fellows who can go don't care about it.There's Morris Brent. His father's crazy to have him go to college. Hetells Morris he can have his pick of them all. Morris doesn't want to goa bit; and he won't, I guess, if he doesn't brace up."
"Exams, you mean?"
Dick nodded. "Morris is always in trouble with his studies."
"His father's a bit of a Tartar, isn't he?" asked Caspar. "I've only methim once or twice, but he seemed sort of cross-grained."
"I don't know. I know he and Morris are always at outs about one thingor another. Just now, I hear, it's an automobile. Morris wants one, andhis father says he can't have it. Do you know him very well?"
"Not very. We've seen each other quite a little for several summers, butwe aren't awfully chummy. I don't quite----" Caspar paused, with apuzzled frown. "If he'd forget that his father has a lot of money, he'dget on better with fellows here. I like his sister, though. She's anawfully nice, jolly kid. And his mother's mighty nice, too."
"Yes, so I've heard. I don't know them. Well, I must get along. We willbe over here in time to begin the game at three on Saturday, Billings.I'll talk to Gordon about the umpire, but I'm pretty sure the chap youspeak of will be satisfactory to us. Thanks for being so kind. Will yousay good-bye to your mother and sisters, please?"
"That's all right," replied Caspar warmly. "Hope you'll come aroundoften, Lovering. See you Wednesday, anyway." He watched Dick's deftmanipulation of his crutches anxiously. Finally: "I say, it's a longwalk to the trolley. Let me take you over, won't you? We have a sort ofa horse and cart here, and it won't take a minute to hitch up."
"No, thanks; I like to walk," replied Dick, with a smile. "Maybe youwouldn't call it walking, though; perhaps I ought to say that I like to'crutch.'"
"Call it what you like," responded Caspar heartily, "you certainly do itmighty well, Lovering!"
Dick reached the trolley station in ample time for the two-forty-fivecar back to Clearfield, and on the way his thoughts dwelt largely onMaster Harold Townsend. Master Harold was a good deal of a problem. Sofar, as Dick had told Mrs. Billings, the boy had behaved very decently,but Dick knew quite well that it was principally because he was still insome awe of his tutor. That awe would soon wear off, for there wasn'tenough difference in the ages of the two to allow Dick to keep the upperhand very long. Then, as Dick realized, there'd be trouble.Unfortunately, he could not, he felt, count on the boy's mother to backhim up, for that lady was lamentably weak where her youngest son wasconcerned. Of course, Dick might keep on drawing his wages all summerand nothing
would be said, but he didn't intend to do that unless he wasearning them. And it wasn't going to be an easy matter to earn them assoon as Harold got over his present diffidence and the slight enthusiasmwith which Dick had managed to imbue him. The money meant a good deal toDick, and he hated to think of losing it, but one thing was certain: Assoon as he failed to make progress with Harold he would quit. Perhaps hewould find another pupil, he reflected more hopefully, although so faronly Mrs. Townsend had replied to his application.
Just then, his gaze wandering along the flying landscape, he caughtsight of a small blue runabout automobile trying desperately to keeppace with the trolley car. The road was a good three hundred yards away,and it was not possible to make out with any certainty the identity ofthe lone figure in the blue car, but Dick was pretty sure that thedaring driver was Morris Brent. If so, he had, then, overruled hisfather in the matter, thought Dick. It wasn't like Mr. Brent to changehis mind, either. In any case, and whoever was driving the runabout,that light vehicle was plunging along the none too smooth road at a pacethat brought Dick's heart into his mouth more than once and attractedthe concerned attention of all the occupants of the trolley car. Severaltimes, as it seemed, the runabout narrowly avoided collision with thewhite fence which ran beside the dirt road, and Dick was heartilyrelieved when, presently, a team approached from the direction ofClearfield, and the driver of the automobile, recognizing the futilityof trying to pass at his present reckless speed, slowed down and waslost to sight from the car.
Dick mentioned the incident to Gordon at practice that afternoon, butGordon was unable to say whether Morris had bought the automobile he hadspoken of. "He said he was going to, though, whether his father wantedhim to or not. Said he had some money of his own and that Stacey, theagent on Oak Street, would wait for the rest. If his father finds itout, he will be hopping mad, I'll bet."
"It won't take him long to find it out," replied Dick dryly. "At leasttwo dozen persons saw him to-day. Someone's pretty sure to speak of it.The idiot was driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!"
"That's the way Morris would drive," said Gordon. "By the way, there's ameeting of the Athletic Committee called for next Saturday night inAssembly Hall to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says hedoesn't see how we're going to get a field without paying for it, and wehaven't any money to do that."
"It's tough luck," replied Dick. "Have they any field in sight?"
"I don't think so. Will said something about a piece of land on the wayto the Point, near the picnic ground. Do you know what he means?"
"No; but I guess there's plenty of land there. I don't believe it's verylevel. I suppose beggars mustn't be choosers, however."
"I think it's mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that field away from us!"said Gordon scowlingly.
"Did you tell him so the other day?" Dick asked innocently.
Gordon laughed. "No, I forgot to! Come on and let's get these fellowsstarted. Tom, will you pitch at the net for a while?"
"Shall I tell Billings it's all right about the umpire, Gordie?"
"Yes; we don't care who umps as long as he knows how. If they play usagain, we'll have the choice then. Now then, fellows, get your battingeyes! Don't be too easy with us, Tom. Speed 'em over, old scout!"