Frank Roscoe's Secret Part 1

Frank Roscoe's Secret.

by Allen Chapman.

CHAPTER I

PLANNING A DINNER

"That's the way to line 'em out, Ned!"

"Go on now! Take another! You can get home!"

"Wow! That wins the game! Hurrah for Ned Wilding!"

Those were some of the shouts, amid a mult.i.tude of others, that came from scores of boyish throats as they watched the baseball game between the Darewell High School and the Lakeville Preparatory Academy. The occasion was the annual championship struggle, and the cries resulted from Ned's successful batting of the ball far over the center fielder's head.

It was a critical moment for the score was tie, it was the ending of the ninth inning, and there were two men of the High School nine out. It all depended on Ned.

But Ned was equal to the occasion. He had placed the ball well, and as soon as he heard the crack, when his bat struck it, he had darted for first. Then, running as he never had run before, he kept on to second.

The encouraging shouts of his friends induced him to advance toward third, though by this time the center fielder had the ball and was throwing it to the baseman.

"Come on, Ned! Come on! Take a chance!" yelled Bart Keene, captain of the High School team.

Then Ned, from a baseball standpoint of safety, did what might be termed a foolish thing. He reached third base just an instant before the ball did. He heard it strike the baseman's glove with a loud "plunk!"

A second later, stooping to avoid being touched, Ned sprang up and ran toward the home plate. It was a desperate chance in a desperate game, for the Lakeville players were cool and experienced hands, and Ned was almost certain to be put out. However, he had chanced it. It was too late to go back now. He was running straight for home, as though there was no such thing as a baseman with a ball close behind him, waiting for a good chance to throw to the catcher and put him out.

Right at the catcher Ned ran. The third baseman drew back his arm to throw the ball. The catcher put out his hands to grasp it. Then Ned jumped up into the air, springing as high as he could.

This disconcerted the aim of the third baseman and he had to throw higher than he intended, to get the ball over Ned's head.

It was what Ned intended that happened.

The catcher was obliged to jump to reach the whizzing ball. He just missed it, the leather sphere grazing the tips of his fingers. Then it flew over his head, while there sounded a groan from the Lakeville supporters. The game was a High School victory.

An instant later Ned had pa.s.sed the chagrined catcher and had touched the home plate, while the High School boys stood up on the bleachers and made themselves hoa.r.s.e with cheers. Joining them came the shrill cries of the girls of Darewell, quite a throng of whom had come to see the game.

"Good, Ned!" cried Bart, as he ran up to grasp his chum by the hand.

"That's the stuff!" exclaimed Fenn Masterson. "I knew you could do it, Ned!"

"That's more than I knew myself," Ned answered, panting from his home run.

"Three cheers for the Darewells!" called the captain of the preparatory school nine.

The tribute to victory was paid with a will.

"Three cheers for the Lakevilles!" shouted Lem Gordon, pitcher on the High School team.

The winners fairly outdid their rivals in cheering. Then the diamond was thronged with girls and boys, all talking at once, and discussing the various points of the game.

"It was a close chance you took, Ned," remarked a tall, quiet youth, coming up to the winner of the game.

"I had to, Frank. I didn't risk much in being put out, but it meant a lot if I could get home, and I took the chance."

"Oh, Ned's always willing to take chances," said Bart Keene.

"Yes, and sometimes it isn't a good thing," replied Frank.

"Oh, you're too particular," came from Fenn Masterson. "What's the use of doing the safe thing all the while?"

"That's right, Stumpy my boy," commented Ned, "Stumpy" being Fenn's nickname because of his short, stout figure.

"Oh, I believe in taking chances once in a while," went on Frank, "but of course--"

He did not finish his sentence, and his three chums looked at one another, for Frank seemed to be dreaming of something far removed from the ball game.

"He's getting stranger than ever," remarked Bart to Ned in a low tone.

"We'll have to get his mind off of whatever it is that's troubling him."

"That's right," agreed Ned.

"We ought to celebrate this victory in some way," suggested Fenn, as a crowd of boys, including several members of the ball team, joined the chums. "We ought to get up a dinner and have speeches and things like that."

"Nothing to eat, of course," said Ned.

"Oh, sure; lots to eat," Fenn hastened to add.

"Where could we have it?" asked Lem.

"In our barn," replied Fenn. "There's lots of room, and we don't keep horses any more. It's nice and clean. We could put some boards over saw-horses to make tables, and have a fine time. We can make all the noise we want, and no one would say a word."

"That's the stuff!" cried Bart. "The very thing! Stumpy, you're a committee of one to see about it."

"I'm not going to do all the work!" objected Stumpy.

"I'll help," put in Ned. "Where'll we get the stuff?"

"I guess there's enough in the club treasury for a little spread," said Bart. "This is the last game of the summer season, and we might as well spend some of our cash. We don't want to get too rich."

By this time most of the High School pupils had left the ball grounds and were on their various ways home. It was a Sat.u.r.day afternoon early in June, and the fine weather had brought a big crowd to see the game, which was played on the Lakeville grounds. The members of the High School nine, including a few subst.i.tutes, rode home in a big stage, but trolley cars took the other Darewell boys and girls back.

On the way home the dinner was discussed in its various details, and it was voted to have it a week from that Sat.u.r.day night.

"Better not talk too much about it," suggested Bart

"Why not?" asked Stumpy.