The Lucky Seventh

The town was liberally scattered with the red and green posters on Monday. They glared and shouted at one from every window. One was not allowed to forget for an instant that on the following Saturday afternoon the greatest and most important athletic event in the history of Clearfield was to be witnessed at the High School Field for the ridiculously moderate price of fifty cents – or seventy-five if you wanted to be sure of a seat!

All this in spite of the fact that from every indication there would be no field to play on!

Mr. Potter was at Dick’s at a quarter past seven that morning. He was filled with dismay and wrath, and some of the things he said about Mr. Jonathan Brent would not look at all nice in print! At seven-thirty-five he hurried away to find Mr. Brent. At a few minutes before nine he was back again, literally frothing at the mouth.

“Say!” he almost shouted in response to Dick’s anxious query. “Say! He didn’t say a thing! He let me talk my head off, that is all he did! I told him that public opinion would be against him if he allowed that field to be demolished before the game, that Clearfield would be up in arms, that the Reporter would deal editorially with the matter and not mince its words!” Mr. Potter faltered then.

“What did he say to that?” asked Dick. “He must have said something!”

“He said,” replied the newspaper man subduedly, “that he controlled three-fifths of the stock of the Reporter and he guessed the paper wouldn’t be too hard on him!”

Dick grinned. “Does he?”

Mr. Potter nodded sheepishly. “Yes, but I’d forgotten it. After that I had to – well, I had to tone down a bit. I asked him if it wouldn’t be possible to delay work on the field until after Saturday. I told him about all the advertising that had been done and how everyone was looking forward to the game and all that, you know.”

“Yes? And he wouldn’t agree?”

“He said, ‘Young man, get out!’ Just that and not another word!”

“Then I guess it’s all off,” said Dick regretfully. “It’s too bad. Of course, we might play the game at the Point – ”

“We couldn’t get the crowd over there. No, sir, it’s got to be played here. You’re certain there isn’t another field anywhere?”

“Absolutely certain.”

“Then there’s just one thing to be done. It’s a last resort and it doesn’t promise well, but I’ll try it.”

“What?” asked Dick.

Mr. Potter sank his voice. “See the contractor,” he said, “and buy him off. For a hundred dollars – ”

“A hundred dollars!” exclaimed his hearer. “Where’d we get it?”

“Pshaw, we’ll clear up two hundred easy if we can pull the game off!”

“Well,” replied Dick doubtfully, “but even so I don’t believe Mullin would dare to do it.”

“Supposing, though, his men went on strike?” suggested the other with a wink. “He couldn’t help himself then, could he?”

“N-no, but – I don’t like it, Mr. Potter. It’s pretty under-hand, it seems to me. After all, we don’t have to play that game, and – ”

“Don’t have to! You bet you have to! Look at that cup! Look at all the printing we’ve done; posters, score-cards, tickets! Look at – ” But words failed him and he seized his hat from the table. “Here, I’ve got to get busy! That Irishman may be plowing up the field right now! See you later, Lovering!”

And Mr. Potter dashed off again.

Lanny called up a few minutes later to ask about developments and after that Tom Haley wanted information. Dick had no hopeful news to impart, however. Gordon and Fudge came around just as Dick was starting for the Point – by way of Brentwood – and walked with him as far as the corner of A Street. There Gordon drew Fudge back and reminded him that three was a crowd. Dick had the grace to blush.

“Oh, come on,” he said awkwardly. “Don’t be a silly chump!”

“Thanks,” murmured Gordon sweetly, “but we wouldn’t think of intruding. Come along, Fudge.”

“Wh-wh-what’s up?” asked Fudge when Dick had gone on. “Wh-why didn’t you w-w-want to go along?”

“I can’t explain,” replied Gordon gently. “You’re too young, Fudge, to hear such things.”

Whereupon Fudge impolitely requested Gordon to “ch-ch-chase himself!”

Mr. Potter was back again after lunch, mildly incensed at Dick 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?” Dick 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?”

Dick 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 Dick. “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 Dick 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 Dick. “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 Dick took his crutches again and once more swung himself into the house.

“This you, Dick?” asked the voice at the other end of the line. “This is Morris. Say, Dick, 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 Saturday, 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, Dick.”

“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 Dick. “He will be tickled to death! So long, Morris, and thanks. I’ll tell Gordon when I see him about four.”

Dick 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 Dick met him at practice an hour later, “what he wants to see me about.”

“Well, it’s about the field, I suppose,” said Dick. “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. Dick 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 Dick. “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 Dick’s invitation. “They pass a hat around and sometimes get ten or twelve dollars.”

“Anyway, I don’t care to do a thing like that,” said Dick. “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 Dick. “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, Dick.”

“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 Dick 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 Dick had to do a lot of studying in order to maintain with dignity his rôle 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 Dick, and his progress a source of great satisfaction. By the end of that busy week Dick could, and did, assure 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 Dick hoped that the forgetting would not come until he had passed examinations. Mrs. Townsend almost wept with joy and relief when Dick told her that he firmly believed they had succeeded in what had seemed not many weeks ago an impossible task, and her gratitude, or the expression of it, embarrassed Dick horribly.

After he returned from the Point each day just in time for dinner at one o’clock Dick 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 Dick 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 assured 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 Dick’s services would be needed at the field, the usual morning lesson at the Point had been postponed until Wednesday evening. Dick 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 Dick 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 Saturday. 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 Saturday’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,” announced Fudge. “It looks s-s-s-swell!”

“It’s sort of one-sided, though,” said Lanny. “They ought to put up some Point flags too.”

“I don’t suppose there are any,” answered Gordon. “They haven’t any regular color over there, have they?”

“Sure; blue and yellow. It’s a funny combination, but some of the girls out at the Point have made some flags and they say they look mighty well.”

“Mr. Potter told me to-day,” remarked Dick, “that he’s hired four kids to sell flags at the field. He got Jordan and Fillmore to make up two hundred of them for him. He can certainly think of more things to do!”

“Those are probably the flags they have in their window,” suggested Lanny. “What are they like, Fudge?”

“J-J-Just like the High School flags, only they have just a C instead of C. H. S. on them. They’re s-s-swell!”

“You told us that before,” said Gordon. “I guess Potter will be stuck with about a hundred and fifty of his two hundred.”

“I don’t believe he will. Say, why didn’t we think of doing that, fellows? We might have made a lot of money.” And Lanny looked almost accusingly at Dick.

“I don’t see that we need any more money,” replied the manager. “We’ll have so much as it is that we’ll have to open a bank account. I’m scared to death to have it in the house.”

“How much have we got now?” asked Lanny.

“Over a hundred, and all bills paid. Did Gordie tell you my scheme for using it, Lanny?”

“Yes,” was the unenthusiastic reply. “But I don’t believe – ”

“It’s a dandy scheme,” interrupted Gordon quickly. “We – we’ll talk it over some day, after this game’s over with. No use trying to think of anything else right now. I say, Dick, have you studied that automobile book any?”

“No, I haven’t had a minute’s time. No hurry, is there? I’ve about decided to wait another month or so and get one of the next year’s models. I’ve already got almost two dollars laid by toward it.”

“Well, don’t buy a cheap car,” laughed Lanny. “Get – get one like Morris’s.”

The succeeding silence was broken hurriedly by Morris. “Yes, but don’t break a leg with it,” he exclaimed. Lanny and Gordon and Fudge laughed loudly and Dick stared at them through the half-darkness of the porch with a puzzled look on his face. He had seen Gordon reach out and aim a kick at Lanny’s shin and, judging from Lanny’s pained contortions immediately afterward, Dick fancied that Gordon’s aim had been true. For over a week now Dick had been aware that some project was under way by the others that he was purposely excluded from. What it was he couldn’t imagine, but that it had to do with automobiles seemed certain. More than once he had seen warning glances sent from one fellow to another and quite often a remark had been cut short at his approach. That the mystery concerned him particularly Dick did not suspect, however. And just now he had too many things on his mind to allow of much consideration of it.

“You really ought to read that book, though,” said Gordon. “Oughtn’t he, Morris?”

Morris agreed emphatically, and Fudge said, “You really ought, Dick!” and Lanny murmured something about it being well to know such things.

“Look here,” exclaimed Dick, half laughing, half in earnest, “if you fellows don’t quit nagging me to read that book I’ll – I’ll pitch it out the window! What the dickens do I want to learn about running an automobile for? Are you fellows dippy?”

There was complete silence until Lanny said: “You never can tell, Dick, when you might be called on to – to profit by the – er – ”

“Oh, certainly,” responded Dick with sarcasm. “Most any old day I might get the offer of a chauffeur’s job! Or maybe you fellows are going to save up for Christmas and buy me a taxicab!”

“Ha, ha!” said Lanny weakly. Fudge giggled. Gordon had a fit of coughing. Morris became intensely interested in the stars seen through the vines.

“You’d make a peach of a chauffeur, Dick,” laughed Gordon finally.

“Why?”

“Why – er – just because,” replied Gordon flatly. “Say, I’ve got to be going home, fellows. You coming my way?”

The others displayed a most uncomplimentary enthusiasm for departure, and after they had clicked the little gate behind them Dick could hear them talking in low and excited tones as they passed up the street. He shook his head as he moved his crutches toward the doorway.

“Either they’re all crazy,” he murmured, “or they’re trying to work some sort of a game on me. I wonder what it is.”

But he didn’t wonder long, for the morrow’s lessons awaited him upstairs and when he had finished with them he was too tired and sleepy to wonder about anything.

Clearfield and Logan played only six innings the next forenoon. The visitors arrived nearly twenty minutes late and the game dragged. There was a lot of hitting and each team seemed determined to make more errors than its opponent. Curtis Wayland and the rival pitcher were pretty evenly matched and it was only because Clearfield, in spite of her endeavors, failed to tally as many errors as Logan that the home team stood three runs ahead when the contest was called to allow the visitors to snatch some dinner before going over to the Point. Dick couldn’t derive much satisfaction from that game, and was inclined to be downcast until, just before supper time, Harold telephoned over to him that the Point team had won by only two runs. After that Dick cheered up and saw things more brightly. And then, scarcely two minutes later, came Gordon with his news.

“We’ve got the field, Dick!” he cried from the sidewalk even before he reached the gate. “Mr. Brent is going to give it to the school! It isn’t going to be cut up!”

“Give it to the school!” echoed Dick amazedly.

“Yes! Isn’t that fine and dandy?” Gordon sprawled into a chair on the porch and fanned himself vigorously with his straw hat. “He’s having a deed made out and just as soon as Mr. Grayson comes back it will be ours. Morris is giving it.”

“Morris! How can he give it?”

“Well, I mean Mr. Brent is giving it in Morris’s name. It’s to be called Brent Field. And he almost as much as promised to build us a big new grandstand some day! Isn’t he – isn’t he a corker?”

“But – but what – how – ”

Gordon laughed excitedly. “I guess it was seeing us play the other day that did it. He said he guessed as we got so much enjoyment out of the field we ought to have it. He didn’t get home until nearly half-past four and I called at the office three times before I found him. I thought the first time that I’d sneak off and not come back. But I’m glad I did, though. I was scared to death when I went in. But he was as nice as pie. He asked a lot of questions about baseball and football and the Athletic Committee and the field we talked of getting, and then – then – well, then he asked me if I thought the fellows would like to keep the field. And I said of course they would. And then he said he had decided to make the school a present of it if – if I wanted him to.”

“If you wanted him to!” exclaimed his hearer.

Gordon nodded. “You know he told me the time I – the time I was with Morris when he got hurt that if I wanted anything I was to ask him for it. So the other day when Mullin was going to plow up the field I – I sort of reminded him of what he had said and told him I’d like him to let us use the field that day. I didn’t tell you, but that was how we got it. Well, to-day he said I hadn’t made the most of my opportunity, or something like that. He said I should have asked for the field outright if I wanted it. ‘Why didn’t you?’ he asked. Gee, I didn’t know what to say, so I just looked silly, I guess, and grinned. Then he said how grateful he and Mrs. Brent were for what I did for Morris that day and that if I’d asked him then for the field he’d have given it to me; I mean to the school. So I said, ‘Yes, sir, if you please,’ and he laughed and said: ‘All right, Merrick. I’ll have the deed made out to-morrow. But I want you to understand that it is Morris who is giving the field and not me. He’s one of you and the gift will come better from him.’ And then he shook hands with me and walked ’way out to the stairs with me! And – and say, Dick, isn’t it great?”

CHAPTER XXIII

MR. BRENT THROWS A BALL

If that Saturday had been manufactured to Mr. Potter’s order it couldn’t have been finer. There was a bright blue sky overhead and not a cloud bigger than a handkerchief to be seen. A westerly breeze, bearing the first hint of Autumn, cooled the ardor of the sun. Clearfield had a gala look as soon as the shades at the store windows were drawn in the morning. Touches of purple appeared everywhere. By ten o’clock the downtown streets began to show the incursion of visitors from the neighboring villages and even from the country and the stores reaped a small harvest. At noon Common Street in the vicinity of the field was well lined with sidewalk vendors of peanuts and popcorn, lemonade and soft drinks, while in a vacant lot near-by a hustling gentleman with a blue-black mustache and a yellow corduroy coat had set up a merry-go-round whose strident organ ground out a repertory of four tunes monotonously from forenoon to midnight. Small boys with purple pennants bearing white C’s importuned passers to show their patriotism at the expense of a quarter of a dollar and other small boys flaunted copies of the morning Reporter. “Line-up of to-day’s game! Here you are! Reporter! Only two cents!”

The reserved seat tickets on sale at Howland’s gave out at eleven o’clock, and at twelve, after a hasty conference over the telephone with Dick, Mr. Potter had a load of lumber and four carpenters at the field erecting sixty extra seats.

At one, even before the last nail had been driven, the drug store reported that they had again sold out. “Sell fifty more,” telephoned Mr. Potter, “and mark them ‘Bench!’” Then he hurried to Odd Fellows’ Hall with a moving-van and transferred ten settees from there to the ball grounds and placed them in a double row all along the third base line. After that he threw up his hands.

Shortly before noon a blue runabout, with its brass glistening radiantly and its newly varnished surface reflecting back the sunlight, stopped in front of the carriage gate at the field and honked its horn. After which Gordon, who rode beside the operator, jumped to the ground, climbed the fence and unbarred the gates from inside. Then Morris drove in, Gordon dropped the bar back in place and climbed into the car again and the blue runabout ambled across the white foul line and stopped a few feet from the home plate, with its glistening radiator pointed at the grandstand.