The Lucky Seventh Part 26

"I wish you'd make a real try at those lessons to-day, Harold," d.i.c.k said, at parting. "Won't you?"

Harold grinned noncommittingly.

But the next morning he went through with flying colors, and when d.i.c.k complimented him he laughed. "Gee, I can get that stuff all right if I want to," he said carelessly. "It's easy."

"Why don't you, then?"

"Aw, what's the use? I'd rather play around, anyway."

"Don't you want to go to Rifle Point, Harold?"

"I guess so. I don't care much. If I do, Loring will be always bossing me about. I'd rather go somewhere else, I guess."

"Loring's being there will make things easier for you," said d.i.c.k. "I fancy he's pretty well liked and the fellows will be nice to you on his account. But I'll tell you one thing plainly, Harold: You won't get to Rifle Point this Fall."

Harold opened his eyes widely. "I won't?" he exclaimed.

"Certainly not. And you won't get there next Fall unless you buckle down and learn something."

"Loring said I could!"

"Loring probably thought you were more advanced than you are, then,"

replied d.i.c.k. "I'm sorry, Harold; but facts are facts."

"Then what'll I do this Winter?" asked the boy lugubriously.

"How about another year where you were?"

"I won't! I hate that place! I won't go back there, no matter what anyone says!"

"Then you might have a tutor."

That suggestion didn't seem to make much of a hit. Harold scowled for a minute in silence. Then: "Don't you think I could get in this Fall, Lovering, if-if I studied hard?"

d.i.c.k hesitated.

"I'm entered, you know," pleaded Harold. "I should think I might, Lovering."

"Yes, you might," returned d.i.c.k grimly, "but it would mean studying a good deal differently than the way you've been studying, Harold. It would mean getting your nose right down into the books, putting your whole soul into it, and giving up a lot of playtime. Think you could do that?"

It was Harold's turn to hesitate. Finally, though, he nodded.

"Well, do you think you _would_ do it?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Sure, if-if you'll help me!"

"I'll help you, all right, Harold. But there must be no changing your mind about it later. If we start this thing, we're going to keep it up.

If you'll work honestly and do the very best you know how, I'll get you so you can pa.s.s the exams this Fall. What do you say? Is it a bargain?"

"You bet!" said Harold.

"All right. Hand me those books, please." d.i.c.k turned the pages and made new marks on the margins of them. "There; we'll start off with eight pages instead of four, Harold. We've got to pretty nearly break all existing records, I guess."

Harold whistled softly. "Gee!" he murmured. "Eight pages of that stuff!"

d.i.c.k looked across inquiringly. Harold squared his shoulders with the suggestion of a swagger. "Oh, I'll do it, all right!" he said. "You just watch me!"

Wednesday's game with Logan attracted a smaller audience to the athletic field than had the Sat.u.r.day contest but Tim Turner emptied his pockets of twenty-two dollars and fifty cents afterward, and as Logan received only her expenses there was nearly twenty dollars left. The game was one-sided, Clearfield winning by a score of 17 to 4. The Logan pitchers-she used two of them-were easy for the home-team batsmen, while Tom Haley was. .h.i.t safely but thrice. Two of Logan's runs resulted from errors, Jack Tappen, who had been reinstated, being one offender, and Gordon the other. Jack dropped an easy fly, and Gordon made an atrocious throw to second.

On Thursday Gordon was called to the telephone after breakfast. It was Louise Brent at the other end of the line, and Louise informed him that Morris wanted Gordon to come over there if he could. "It's something about the automobile," explained Louise. "There's a man here to look at it, Gordon."

Gordon promised to go right over, and did so. What pa.s.sed in the sick chamber is not to be set down here, but later Gordon went out to the stable and stood around while a man with grimy hands and a smudge on the end of his nose inspected the blue runabout pessimistically and grunted at intervals. Finally:

"About fifty dollars will do it," he said, in a sad tone of voice.

"There'll have to be new spokes set in that wheel, and them fenders'll have to be straightened out again, and it'll need a new lamp and the radiator's sprung and likely leaks and--"

"Fifty dollars will fix it as good as new?" asked Gordon.

"I don't know how good it was when it was new," responded the man dolefully. "But fifty dollars'll fix it up in good shape, likely."

"All right. I'll tell him, and he will let you know. Could you start on it right away?"

"Likely I could. I'd have to haul it down to my place, though."

"How long would it take?"

"Two or three weeks, likely."

"All right. Much obliged. We'll let you know for certain to-morrow.

Fifty dollars is the cheapest you could do it for?"

"Well"-the man scratched his head reflectively-"maybe I could do it for forty-five, if I didn't find anything else the matter with it.

Likely there ain't."

They called him "Mr. Likely" during the following three weeks, for which period of time the runabout was in his care. Mr. Likely was a born pessimist, and about every two days he called up the Brents' house to inform whoever answered the telephone that "that wheel's a lot worse'n I thought it was, and'll likely have to have a new rim," or "I got to send out West for a new lamp, and it'll likely take two weeks or more." But, to antic.i.p.ate, Mr. Likely made a good job of it, and in the course of time the blue runabout was returned to the Brents' stable, shining and polished like a brand-new car. By that time the family had moved out to the cottage at the Point, and it was Gordon who saw the automobile run into the carriage-room under its own power and who locked the door afterward and pocketed the key.

Morris' leg had knitted so well by the time Clearfield played Springdale that he was allowed to make the trip to the neighboring town in a carriage and witnessed the contest from a position far more comfortable than the sun-smitten boards of the grandstand. That was a pretty good game to watch, too. There was plenty of hitting on both sides, enough errors to add interest, and several rattling good plays. The game was in doubt until the last inning, when Clearfield, with a one-run margin, trotted into the field to do her best to hold the home team scoreless.

Tom Haley had been touched up for eight or nine hits-d.i.c.k and Harold made it eight, but the Springdale scorer insisted on nine-and, as luck would have it, the head of the local batting list was up when the last of the ninth began. But Tom and Lanny worked together finely, and, although one runner got as far as second, the game ended with a spectacular catch by Fudge in deep center, and Clearfield went home with the ball. The final score was 7 to 6, and Clearfield derived a lot of satisfaction from that victory.

The Sat.u.r.day before she had played Locust Valley, and had been pretty badly defeated, and the following Wednesday she had barely pulled out of the game against Corwin with a victory. Corwin had journeyed to Clearfield for the contest and the club treasury had had another twenty-odd dollars added to it. What puzzled Manager d.i.c.k Lovering those days was the interest displayed by the whole team in the condition of the exchequer. It seemed to d.i.c.k that every fellow was showing a strangely commercial spirit.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE LIVE WIRES

The matter of a new athletic field dragged. Two more meetings had been held by the committee, and several trips of inspection had been made to near-by fields, but no decision had been reached. In the meanwhile, the surveyors had shown activity and had run lines through the old field and even demolished a section of the fence. It was a question whether the team would be able to use the diamond much longer, although inquiries failed to elicit any definite information from the men who were doing the surveying. The football enthusiasts were becoming impatient. The prospect of having no better place to hold practice the next month than an empty lot somewhere in the neighborhood of the railroad didn't please them, and they demanded action.