The Lucky Seventh Part 33

Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to "ch-ch-chase himself!"

Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at d.i.c.k because he hadn't been able to find him before. "Say, there's something funny about this business," he confided, sinking into a chair on the porch and mopping his forehead vigorously. "I went over to the field after I left you this morning and there wasn't a thing doing. You said Mullin left his wagon there, didn't you?" d.i.c.k nodded. "Well, it's gone now. I tried to get him on the 'phone and his wife said he was out of town. What do you make of that?"

d.i.c.k shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Mr. Brent thought better of it after you left him. You're certain the wagon was gone?"

"Sure! I walked all around the field and went inside. There wasn't a scratch there and there wasn't even a wheelbarrow in sight outside. Now, what does that mean? I'd call the old chap up and ask him, only-well, frankly, Lovering, I'm afraid I'll lose my job! I suppose you wouldn't want to get him on the telephone and ask him about it?"

"I'd a lot rather not," owned d.i.c.k. "I guess I'm just about as scared of him as you are."

"But he can't hurt you! With me it's different. If he ever tells Stevens I went to his office and read the riot-act to him Stevens will hand me a ticket and a week's pay!"

"I guess Gordon would do it if I asked him to," said d.i.c.k after a moment's thought. "I'll see if I can find him on the 'phone."

But Gordon was not at home. Mrs. Merrick said she believed he had gone somewhere with Fudge.

"I'll see him at four o'clock," said d.i.c.k. "I told the fellows we'd meet at the field and hold practice if we could find room there. I don't see why-Excuse me a minute, will you?"

The telephone had rung and d.i.c.k took his crutches again and once more swung himself into the house.

"This you, d.i.c.k?" asked the voice at the other end of the line. "This is Morris. Say, d.i.c.k, I had a funny message from my dad a few minutes ago.

He telephoned from the office. 'You can tell that Merrick boy,' says he, 'that he can go on and use the field. Tell him to come and see me Wednesday. I'm going to Hartford at three and I'll be back Wednesday noon.' That's great, isn't it?"

"Fine! Do you suppose he means that we can have it until after Sat.u.r.day, Morris?"

"Sure! Anyway, it sounds so, doesn't it? And his wanting to see Gordon makes it look that way, too. I've been trying to find Gordon, but his mother says he's out somewhere. If you see him get him to call me up here at the Point, d.i.c.k."

"I will. That's bully news, Morris, and your father's a brick! I've just been talking with Mr. Potter. He's all het up about it," laughed d.i.c.k.

"He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I'll tell Gordon when I see him about four."

d.i.c.k hung up the receiver and went back to the porch to be confronted by Mr. Potter's eager and questioning countenance.

"I couldn't help hearing what you said," he exclaimed. "Has he come around?"

"I think so. He telephoned Morris to tell Gordon that we could go on and use the field and that Gordon was to call and see him on Wednesday. He's going to Hartford this afternoon. I guess it's all right."

Mr. Potter heaved a vast sigh of relief. "Well, I hope so. I want to put this thing through now that I've started, Lovering. I'll breathe easier, though, when I hear for certain. If he changes his mind again about Wednesday we'll be in a worse pickle than ever!"

"I don't think he will, Mr. Potter. I guess he's concluded to let us use the field. If he hadn't Mullin would be at work this minute. If I were you, though, I'd hear what Mullin says."

"I will, just as soon as he gets home." Mr. Potter looked at his watch and jumped to his feet. "I must be off. Say, that's a load off my mind, all right! Now I'll go ahead and close with Nagel for the music. He wants twenty dollars for two hours. I guess that's fair enough. By the way, can you let me have your batting-list to-morrow? We want to print those score-cards about Wednesday. And, say, if you hear anything more call me up at the office. If I'm not there they'll take a message. Bye!"

"I wonder," mused Gordon when d.i.c.k met him at practice an hour later, "what he wants to see me about."

"Well, it's about the field, I suppose," said d.i.c.k. "Don't look so frightened, Gordie. He won't eat you!"

Gordon laughed and then shook his head ruefully. "I know, but that man scares me to death. I don't know why, either. He's always been as nice as pie to me. I guess it's his eyes. They sort of go right through you and come out the other side!"

There was a big crowd of onlookers there that afternoon and the Clearfield Baseball Club performed to enthusiastic applause. d.i.c.k had sought to arrange a game for Wednesday afternoon but had found no team that could or would play them, which was a matter of regret since Clearfield needed harder practice than it could get without an opponent.

Rutter's Point, which had been playing two games a week steadily, was to meet Logan on Wednesday at the Point.

"I wish we had got them," said d.i.c.k. "They'd give us just about the sort of a game we need."

"Maybe," suggested Jack Tappen, "they'd swap dates with us if we asked them. They won't get any money at the Point, you know."

"Yes, they will," piped up Harold, who had come over to watch practice at d.i.c.k's invitation. "They pa.s.s a hat around and sometimes get ten or twelve dollars."

"Anyway, I don't care to do a thing like that," said d.i.c.k. "It wouldn't be exactly square, I guess."

"I'll tell you what!" exclaimed Harold.

"Go ahead," said Jack. "You're full of information, kid."

"Well," said Harold, pausing long enough to regard Jack with a look of disdain, "why don't you play them in the morning?"

"By jove!" said Lanny.

"'Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings!'" murmured Jack. "Kid, you're all right!"

"We might," pondered d.i.c.k. "They're coming over anyway, and I dare say they'd just as lief come in the morning as later. I'll get hold of that captain of theirs this evening and see what he says."

"Tell 'em we'll pay their fares both ways," suggested Will Scott.

"Sure thing; and buy them a lunch," agreed Way.

"They'll do it," said Gordon. "Make the game at ten-thirty, d.i.c.k."

"Better say eleven. They could hardly get over here before half-past ten. Well, I'll get after them as soon as I get home. Harold, you are a youth of ideas!"

And Harold smiled proudly.

CHAPTER XXII

GORDON BRINGS GOOD NEWS

That was just about the busiest week for d.i.c.k that he ever remembered spending. In the mornings there was usually Mr. Potter to be seen and Mr. Potter's newest schemes to be considered. And, after that, for nearly three hours, he and Harold shut themselves up in the latter's room at the hotel and worked like a couple of galley slaves. All the hard work wasn't the younger boy's, either, for d.i.c.k had to do a lot of studying in order to maintain with dignity his role of teacher. It would never have done to have allowed Harold to catch him napping! The younger boy's capacity for study was a revelation to d.i.c.k, and his progress a source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week d.i.c.k could, and did, a.s.sure himself that the battle was won! That unless Harold had an almost total lapse of memory when he was put through examinations he could not fail to enter Rifle Point. Of course cramming is not the best means of learning, and much of what Harold learned that summer he was bound to forget later, but d.i.c.k hoped that the forgetting would not come until he had pa.s.sed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and relief when d.i.c.k told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her grat.i.tude, or the expression of it, embarra.s.sed d.i.c.k horribly.

After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one o'clock d.i.c.k had two hours to himself. Or he had unless the indefatigable Mr. Potter broke in upon him to breathlessly announce progress or to present a problem to be solved. At four there was practice at the field. In the evenings d.i.c.k very often had to go over the next day's lessons, a task more often than not interrupted by the visit of Gordon or Lanny or Fudge or, possibly, all three. Tuesday evening not only that trio but Morris Brent as well descended upon him.

Morris had at last discarded his crutches and walked with an almost imperceptible limp. The doctor a.s.sured him that the limp would leave him in a week or so, and Morris, an ardent football enthusiast, was already talking punts and drop-kicks.

Since Logan had readily consented to play a game with Clearfield at eleven o'clock the next morning, and since d.i.c.k's services would be needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been postponed until Wednesday evening. d.i.c.k hadn't the heart to ask Harold to give up seeing Logan and Rutter's Point play in the afternoon. And so when the visitors announced their presence that evening by a series of loud whistles from the gate d.i.c.k closed his books regretfully, knowing that he would have to sit up very late after his callers had gone.

They sat out on the porch and talked of many things while the crickets and katydids chirped and fiddled in the darkness. It had been decided that Tom was to pitch only three innings of the morning's game and that Way was to finish out. This was in order to keep Tom fresh for the big game on Sat.u.r.day. To equalize matters, Logan was to pitch her third baseman against Clearfield so that she might save her regular box artist for the afternoon contest. They discussed this and other features of the morrow's battle, and then, as they always did sooner or later, reverted to the Sat.u.r.day's event. Fudge was filled with excitement these days and stuttered like an empty soda fountain whenever the subject was broached.

"Jordan and Fillmore's window is f-f-f-full of flags and p-p-pennants,"