The Grammar School Boys in Summer Athletics Part 8

"Four twenty-five and a half," corrected a Central boy.

"Go get your watch fixed," retorted Hi scornfully. "And some one else run and see if he can find out where the Centrals are hiding."

"Here they come!" yelled one excited Central boy. "Whoopee!

They will answer for themselves!"

In an instant the Central cheering became tumultuous. Even Ted Teall rubbed his eyes and gasped.

For the Central Grammar School squad was marching toward the field, having just left the schoolhouse. At the head of all, chin well up, marched Old Dut. Back of him, two and two, marched d.i.c.k Prescott and his players. What marvel had been worked? For the Central boys wore uniforms that made Hi Martin's fellows look like so many gaudy figures on a cheap poster!

Chapter IV

THE STORY OF THE UNIFORMS

"Great Scott!" gasped Hi Martin, in sheer dismay, his gaze fixed on the approaching Centrals.

"Where in the mischief did they get those uniforms?" demanded Tom Percival, of the North Grammars, his mouth agape.

"Well, they have 'em, anyway," added Bill Rodgers. "And they certainly look more than fine, don't they?"

"The uniforms are made of cheap stuff, I'll wager," muttered Hi hoa.r.s.ely. There was a choke in his throat over seeing his own nine so badly eclipsed in appearance by the despised Central Grammars.

Not less astonished were the Central Grammar boy spectators themselves.

Not one, outside of the baseball squad, had known that any uniforms were to be worn on the field.

"Huh!" remarked Ted Teall, captain of the South Grammars, to one of his lieutenants. "We are the only school nine in town now without a uniform. When we get on the field to play we'll look like a lot of rag-pickers, won't we?"

"I know where they got 'em," choked Hi at last. "Their princ.i.p.al, Old Dut Jones, wouldn't see his boys look too badly compared with us, so he bought 'em as good uniforms as he could afford. It's a shame. That's what it is."

If Captain d.i.c.k and his baseball players walked rather proudly onto the field, it may have been partly due to the fact that they now knew that their uniforms were anything but "cheap." In point of fact, their uniforms had cost more than twice as much as those worn by Hi Martin's players.

"How did they get such uniforms?" That was the question that pa.s.sed from lip to lip.

The answer was very simple, though as yet none of the onlookers knew what it was.

Not until one minute past four did the Central Grammar players know anything about the uniforms. Old Dut had dismissed the rest of the school, detaining d.i.c.k's players.

"Young men, we shall now hasten up to Exhibition Hall," announced the princ.i.p.al. He marched them up there, where they found the smiling Mr. Brown, backed by an a.s.sistant. Several boxes, opened, lay upon the floor.

"Now, young men," called Mr. Brown jovially, "let us see how quickly you can take your baseball uniforms and get into them."

"But what-----" began d.i.c.k, then paused in absolute bewilderment.

"It's all right," Mr. Brown cheerily a.s.sured the dazed boys.

"The uniforms are all paid for---won't cost you a cent."

"But you---you told us," protested Captain d.i.c.k Prescott, "that you were collecting measurements of members of schoolboys' baseball clubs."

"Well, that's the truth," protested Brown, with a mock air of injured innocence. "I'm a traveling salesman for the Haynes Sporting Goods Company, one of the biggest baseball outfitting companies in this part of the country. It's my business to travel and take orders."

"But we didn't give you any orders," gasped Dave.

"Some one did," laughed Mr. Brown.

"Who did?" blurted Tom Reade.

"Did you, Mr. Jones?" cried d.i.c.k.

"Not I," laughed the princ.i.p.al. "But I'll tell you, boys, who did. Prescott, you remember Mr. Winthrop, who is acting for Colonel Garwood in trying to find the latter's son? Amos Garwood hasn't yet been found, but Mr. Winthrop is satisfied that they are close at his heels, and that they will soon find him. Colonel Garwood is a very wealthy old man, and very fond of his missing son.

Mr. Winthrop inquired how he could best serve the boys who had brought him the first word. Some one, I believe it was Len Spencer, the 'Blade' reporter, told about your not having uniforms. Mr.

Winthrop wired the Haynes Company, placing an order for the best of uniforms, provided they could be finished to be delivered this afternoon. And here they are."

"When do you youngsters play?" called out Brown laughingly. "To-day or some other day?"

"I would recommend you to make good time," Old Dut urged. "You don't want to start the season by being late, do you. Besides the North Grammar boys might then claim the game by default."

That was enough to set d.i.c.k Prescott and his dazed comrades at work in earnest.

The uniforms were of blue, and of fine texture. Even baseball shoes had been provided. The stockings were blue. Then came the trousers. The blue jersey s.h.i.+rts bore proudly in front two golden letters each, "C.G." This inscription stood, of course, for "Central Grammar." Then there were coats of blue, to slip on over the jersey s.h.i.+rts; caps of blue and belts of blue, the latter edged with golden yellow to match the s.h.i.+rt initials.

Besides there were a catcher's mask, gloves for the different field players, half a dozen baseb.a.l.l.s and an even dozen of bats.

"Finish dressing as quickly as you can," urged Old Dut. "Your time is slipping away."

At last they were ready. Carrying masks, bats, gloves, they fell in by twos, Princ.i.p.al Jones marching them from the building, along the street and into the field where their arrival had created such a furor.

Yet, excited as he was, d.i.c.k had not forgotten to ask both Mr.

Brown and Old Dut not to fail to express their deepest thanks to Mr. Winthrop and to Colonel Garwood.

Ben Tozier, of the High School baseball nine, had been accepted as umpire for the day. He now came forward to meet Captain d.i.c.k's company.

"My, but you youngsters look about the finest ever," announced Ben. "I hope you can play as well as you look. Captain Prescott, do you claim any time for practice?"

"Not if it's time to begin playing," d.i.c.k answered.

"Yes; it is. I'll call Martin, and you two will attend me for the pitch of the coin."

"Wait a moment, please," called Hi, from across the field.

"What's the matter?" shouted a spectator.

"The North Grammars want to go home and change their uniforms,"

shouted another onlooker.

There was a great laugh at this, which caused Hi Martin to color and look belligerent. He came stalking across the field.