title: The Rambler club's ball nine,
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I t I r ' » > 'i y'" f A • r -S • « ^ V , ' < •• t *• • • p- ’ o •a *• ^ .V»^ » t I .•AO'> t V ^ ■ > ' f k <V, # » ' • f k » - GET RIGHT BACK TO YOUR PLACE” The Rambler Club’s  MOUNTAINS” CEUB ON CIRCEE T RANCH” CEUB AMONG THE EUMBERJACKS” CEUB’S GOED MINE” CEUB’S AEROPEANE” CEUB’S HOUSEBOAT” CEUB’S MOTOR CAR” Illustrated by the Author THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY PHILADELPHIA MCMXIII COFYEIGHT 1913 BY THE PENN PUBUSHING COMPANY Introduction The Rambler Club of Kingswood, Wiscon- sin, formed by Bob Somers and his friends, Dave Brandon, Tom Clifton, Dick Travers and Sam Randall, after having numerous ad- ventures in their own state, visit Oregon, Wyoming, Washington and New York. In the mountains, on the plains, or deep amidst the forest the five lads taste the joys, and also the trials, of outdoor life, and in most unexpected or thrilling situations manage to acquit themselves with credit. In the East, a house-boat trip up the Hudson furnishes the club an eventful journey, while on a motoring trip from Chicago to Kingswood another series of surprising and unusual events befall them. The adventures of the Rambler Club are told in the following books : “ The Rambler Club Afioat,” The Rambler Club’s Winter Camp,” “ The Rambler Club in the Moun- tains,” The Rambler Club on Circle T Ranch,” The Rambler Club Among the 3 4 Introduction Lumberjacks/^ “ The Rambler Club’s Gold Mine,” “ The Rambler Club’s Aeroplane,” The Rambler Club’s House-Boat ” and The Rambler Club’s Motor Car.” Now the lads are back at the Kingswood High School, from which they will graduate at the end of the term. Fired with an am- bition to put new life into the athletic affairs of the school. Bob Somers and his friends take a hand and work some surprising changes. Their zeal and enthusiasm are further aroused by a certain offer made to the school by the town’s most wealthy citizen, Mr. Rupert Barry. “ The Rambler Club’s Ball Nine,” however, greatly to the boys’ astonishment, becomes the means of plunging the entire school into the most turbulent period of its existence. No one can foresee the outcome of the fac- tional struggle until it is ended in a manner quite as surprising as the disturbance itself. When the atmosphere finally clears observ- ing students of the High ” feel that they have learned many valuable lessons. W. Crispin Sheppard. Contents I. The New Ball Field 9 II. Mr. Barry . 22 III. The “Retreat” . 30 IV. The List of Players . 44 V. The Grumblers . 56 VI. The First Game . 70 VII. Four to Nothing • 77 VIII. Discouragement . 102 IX. Mr. Barry Asks Questions . 116 X. The “Fearless” Arrives. . 125 XI. Good Baseball Weather. . 136 XII. “ For the Good of the School tt . 148 XIII. The Challenge . 163 XIV. Rebellion .... . 174 XV. A Decision . 187 XVI. Tom Is “ Rattled ”. • 197 XVII. Benny Wins a Note-Book . 211 XVIII. The President Speaks . 226 XIX. The Verdict of the School . 236 XX. The Wish of the Majority . 250 XXI. Rockville Is Puzzled . 264 XXII. Plain Talk . 279 XXIII. Bob Scores at Last. . 292 XXIV. The “ Hopes ” Are Blasted . 308 6 , ' '■ I \ / . < >. « I t , I » s 1 > I ' \ - r 'i « « Illustrations “ Get Right Back to Your Place ” . Frontispiece “ It’s For the Good of the School ” . *59 “ What Is the Matter With the Ball Nine?” 119 “ I Know Your Game ” 199 The Soap Box Was Shoved Violently . .280 The Rambler Club’s Ball Nine. 7 ¥ The Rambler Club’s Ball Nine CHAPTER I THE NEW BALL FIELD Great Scott I Maybe that chap can^t run I ” You^re right, Earl. But it will take more than running, to beat the Stars and Goose Hill fellows, to say nothing of Rock- ville Academy. That crowd over there cer- tainly has a corking team. Say, Roycroft, you ought to be on Bob Somers' nine." Earl Roycroft, a six-foot boy weighing almost two hundred pounds, settled his big frame in a more comfortable position on the rail fence. His eyes mechanically followed the runners speeding one after another around a lot used by the Kingswood High School students as a baseball and training field. 9 10 The Rambler Club’s ‘‘ Why, it isn^t Bob Somers^ team ; it^s the schoohs, Nat,’’ he protested, mildly. Nat Wingate, a handsome, dark-haired boy with flashing brown eyes, smiled. Well, Somers seems to be having things pretty much his own way,’^ he answered. When I was captain, last year, it was mighty different. Stand up for your rights, Roycroft. The team needs a great big chap like you, and Great Scott, but he can sprint I Well, it would be mighty funny if a fellow who has such long legs as Tom Clifton couldnT sprint,’^ returned Nat, dryly. The crisp crack of a bat suddenly attracted his attention. Then he caught sight of the ball describing a long, graceful curve. He watched the sphere flashing against the blue sky until it had reached such a height as to appear but the merest speck, and then as it swiftly dropped and was plucked from space by a slender boy in the outfield. Good catch for Charlie Blake,^’ exclaimed Roycroft. And there was some class to the hit, too,’’ commented Nat. I don’t think any of the Ball Nine 11 Rambler fellows swung the stick on that one. Whoever he is, I wouldn’t mind having him on my team.” '' Humph I Don’t you recognize that chap? It’s Joe Rodgers.” Gee whiz I The young fellow the Ram- blers brought back with ’em on their motor car trip last fall ? ” Exactly ! ” laughed Earl. Dave Bran- don has been looking out for Joe, and got him a job on Mr. Miles’ farm. He goes to school every day with a lot of little chaps about half his age. But Mr. Miles says, from the way Joe’s learning, he’ll soon put all us high school fellows in the has-been class. Come on, Nat. I want to get a whack at that ball myself.” Nat Wingate eased himself off the fence, flecked a few spots of dust from his clothes, and followed the big form of Earl Roy- croft. ‘‘ My crowd is going to get the first whack at the Rambler Club’s ball nine, Roy,” he exclaimed. A peculiarly sarcastic expression came over his face as Roy flung back : 12 The Rambler Club’s “ Cut that out, Nat. You mean the school team/^ Last season we trimmed the Goose Hill bunch/^ went on Wingate. “ You know what a husky lot they are. Tony Tippen was in the box for us. If any of the scouts from the big leagues ever get to this burg I shouldn’t wonder a bit if they’d snap him up.” I’d be satisfied with the minors,” laughed Earl. “ Whew I The air is kind of chilly to- day, Nat. Roger Steele didn’t think he’d have the boys practicing outside of the gym until next week. Great Scott, but that fellow can sprint I ” ‘‘Wonder if he learned the trick by having wildcats chase him out of the woods,” laughed Nat. “ Ha, ha I We met one once. John Hackett and our crowd ran across the Ramblers on their first trip, and ” A salvo of cheers suddenly interrupted his sentence, and upon looking up to see the cause of it the captain of the Kingswood Stars saw a stout, round-faced boy advancing lei- surely to the home plate. “ Ha, ha ! We’re going to see the new editor of the high school ‘ Reflector ’ in action. Ball Nine >3 Did you read the last copy of that sheet, Earl ? Roycroft nodded. “ Sure thing, Nat. Dave has written a his- tory of the Rambler Club. The first instal- ment appears in the ‘ Refiector’s ^ next issue. Guess there isnT a fellow in the school who won’t dive into his pocket for a nickel. Hello, Spearman I ” A boy almost as tall as himself, but of a lighter build, stepped from among a crowd of noisy students and walked toward them. Harry Spearman had prominent aquiline fea- tures and a manner which suggested a nerv- ous, high-strung disposition. I tell you, Roycroft, these fellows are go- ing to give a good account of themselves,” he began. ** Steele and Somers have just the right idea of training. Don’t push your men too hard, they say, but keep them always on the move. Roger Steele’ll soon have a crowd of base-runners that will make some of the fellows on the other teams look as slow as so many ice wagons.” A shade crossed Earl’s face. Bob Somers had often expressed the opinion that if the »4 The Rambler Club’s big fellow only possessed a little more speed he would make one of the best players in the school. But, while Roycroft was good at al- most every other angle of the game, he was sometimes apt to slip up when quick action was absolutely necessary. Better not boast too much, Harry, grinned Nat. Wait until the Ramblers stack up against the Stars. We expect to pull off a few plays that may make ^em seem like never-wassers. The Rockville football eleven came over last fall, you know, and Bob Somers^ crowd didiiT cut any great figure in the game.’^ Harry Spearman’s eyes snapped scornfully. Suppose they did beat us ? That isn’t much to brag about,” he retorted. “ When the Ramblers got back to school this term there was no athletic association ; everything was disorganized — you know that, Win- gate ” ‘‘ Gee I Another dandy hit,” broke in Roy- croft. Dave Brandon certainly smacked the ball that time. Look at it — still sailing. I’ll bet it’s bound for Rockville.” Of course you do, Nat,” went on Harry, Ball Nine >5 paying no attention to this interruption. Before, it was all hit or miss — mostly miss ; and nobody seemed to care.^^ Correct, added Earl. Bob plunged right in, and, with up-to-the-minute plans, got the athletic association started, football and baseball committees formed, and made arrangements with all the various schools around to play a regular schedule of games.^^ ** Oh, I suppose he has your big colleges beaten to a frazzle on the fine points of the game,” exclaimed Nat, with a barely percep- tible sneer. Earl Roycroft laughed softly. He knew that it wouldn’t take much to start a lively wrangle between Wingate and Spearman, as Nat was of a highly impetuous nature, while the latter’s principal characteristics were nerv- ousness and excitability. But he found it easy to stem the tide of belligerency which seemed on the point of beginning. Freshmen, sophomores, juniors and seniors, mingling in a fraternal spirit, formed scat- tered groups all over the lot, occasionally yelling with as much vigor and enthusiasm as though about to witness a championship i6 The Rambler Club’s game. Many wore purple and white sweaters, and these garments added a touch of bright color to the still barren landscape. There’s ‘ Jack Frost ’ in the box, fellows,” remarked Earl. “ He has a slow ball that will puzzle the Rockville boys. I’ve been up against it, and I know. Comes so slow that you almost fall asleep waiting for it to pass over the plate.” William Frost was the name of the player in question, though, of course, his schoolmates generally called him Jack.” “ And Tony Tippen has an inshoot that would make the Cannon Ball Express look like a slow freighter,” laughed Nat. Gee, I wish the next two weeks would roll around fast. I guess you high school fellows are in for a pretty hard jolt. We hate to do it, too, for this is a mighty poor ball field, and a few lambastings will probably knock all that fine Rupert Barry business in the head.” ‘‘ Oh, it will, eh ? ” sniffed Spearman. Next season the Purple and White team will be using that new ball park, and we’ll have a grand stand, besides.” ''Sorry to have to put that happy train of thought off* the track,” chuckled Nat. " Have Ball Nine 17 you forgotten the Goose Hill crowd and a few others ? It wouldn’t faze us if they were major leaguers.” ‘‘ Hello, you ‘ Pie-eaters ’ ; hello I Where’s the rest of the ^ Doughnut ’ crowd ? ” This hail, coming in very gruff* tones from the tall sprinter who had excited Earl Hoy- croft’s admiration, made Nat Wingate’s eyes glitter ominously. “ The nerve of that Tom Clifton is getting my nerve,” he commented, in a low tone. It beats me how some of the chaps are will- ing to swallow all he hands out.” He doesn’t seem to like the idea of us swallowing pie,” laughed Roycroft. By this time the tallest senior in the school had almost reached the group. Tom Clifton, bubbling over with good spirits, eyed Nat quizzically. “ Still making the pies over at Guffin’s do the disappearing act? ” he asked. Yes I And the doughnuts are following the same route.” How is it that Kirk Talbot didn’t come over to see us practicing? ” i8 The Rambler Club’s “ Kirk had something more important on hand. He went to a moving picture show instead.^^ I’ll bet it was a nickel one,” snickered Tom. We’re getting ready for your crowd, Nat. Thanks, Roycroft ! I can go some. I’ll do better yet. Wait till you see me making the circuit of the bases. And when we get that new field — well ! We’ll make some of the ‘ Pie-eaters and doughnut crowd ’ lose their appetites.” Tom Clifton’s gaze roved over the rather uneven field, which was situated some dis- tance from the rear of the Kingswood High School. Great patches of weeds and small saplings had been leveled to the ground and hollow places filled in by the willing hands of the boys. But even all the zeal and en- thusiasm with which they had worked could not make the result of their labor a joy and delight. This particular field seemed to have a grudge against all athletic sports. Treach- erous little bumps or depressions, as well as other irregularities, had often spoiled what might have been brilliant plays. And now, Tom refiected, after a whole Ball Nine 19 winter of neglect, conditions looked more unpromising than ever. It did not at all fit in with his ideas of what the Kingswood High School boys deserved, especially when he considered the new lease of life which Bob Somers, ably assisted by his friends, had in- jected into the athletic affairs of the school. To the north, the three story stone building of the school, the center of which was sur- mounted by a cupola, shone brightly in the afternoon sun. Beyond the residences which hemmed in the large lot on all sides several towers and domes indicated the business por- tion of Kingswood. It all made a very pleas- ing picture. But Tom Clifton did not allow his thoughts to stray very long from the actual work in hand. He was too anxious to get in the thick of the fray again, and pull down some of the ‘‘sky-scrapers” which little Joe Rodgers was batting out with remarkable precision. “ Say, Nat, that chap is a corker,” he de- clared. “ Stand wherever you please, and he’ll put the horse-hide right into your hands. Gee — see that I ” “ What ? ” asked Nat. 20 The Rambler Club’s Why, the way Blake picked up Dave’s grounder — one handed, too ! By Jove, it was a scorcher ! Where are you going, Roy croft ? ” “ To bat,” answered Earl, with a laugh. Come on, Spearman.” Good ! Try to knock me down. I’ll show you a few fancy stunts, Nat.” “ We are reserving ours until Saturday week,” returned Wingate. That’s right, Tom. Snicker all you want. But it’s the snickers which come after the game that count.” Tom’s reply was not audible, as there was too much noise. Some hundred schoolboys, whose vocal organs were in excellent con- dition, seemed to be desirous of learning just how much sound they could produce at a given moment. Bob Somers had pulled down one of Joe Rodgers’ drives after a long, hard run, and although the force of the impact had sent him rolling over and over on the ground, the sphere was safe in his hands. “ Bully — bully ! ” cried Tom, as the shouts subsided. “ See you later, Nat.” “ Hold on. Tommy,” said Wingate. A Ball Nine 21 quizzical smile was playing about his lips. A restraining hand seized Tom Clifton's wrist. Anything the matter with your optics to-day, son ? " “ Why ? " queried Tom, in surprise. “ Haven't they lighted on anything yet, eh?" “ Yes ; a whole lot of dandy plays." That isn't what I mean." The earnest manner of his companion made Tom eagerly scan the field. He saw a dozen balls flying about in all directions, students in purple and white sweaters dashing from place to place, and “ Jack Frost" engaged in send- ing in a variety of curves to Phil Brentall, the backstop. He also saw the ball being snapped from first to third and back again with great rapidity. But the fact that he was not looking in the right direction was speedily impressed upon his mind when Nat shoved him around in a most unceremonious fashion. “ Now what do you see ? " demanded Nat. Gee whiz — goodness gracious I " cried Tom — Mr. Rupert Barry." CHAPTER II MR. BARRY A TALL, thin man, who, although some- what elderly, seemed to walk with all the alertness of youth, was directing his course toward the players. He wore a long, faded, dusty-looking black coat and a derby hat of an equally old appearance. Mr. Rupert Barry, one of the best known and wealthiest citizens of Kingswood, had re- tired from active business many years before, and, with only a man and wife who acted as housekeepers, resided in a stately mansion which crowned the summit of a hill. Mr. Barry was not partial to visitors. Only a select few had entered his doors. Those who did spoke enthusiastically of a collection of bric-a- brac and paintings which his house contained. None of the present generation remembered having ever seen Mr. Barry in other than his old-fashioned coat and derby hat. It was a 22 Ball Nine 23 standing puzzle whether the coat and hat re- fused to be worn out, or whether, by some mysterious process, he was able, year in and year out, to procure garments of exactly the same color and texture. Mr. Barry seldom appeared without a dog to keep him company. And these animals, which had succeeded one another up to the present time, generally possessed but little beauty. On this occasion the dog which kept close to the elderly gentleman ^s heels was a large, shaggy creature of a yellowish hue, with a quarrelsome look in his eye. “ Now it^s time to get out on the field and pull off some of those pretty stunts, Tom,^^ advised Nat Wingate. “It may make him take down a few of those no-trespassing signs on that lot of his.^' “ That^s right,” laughed Tom. “ It fairly bristles with ^em. ^ Trespassers dealt with according to law ’ ; ‘ Private property ' ; ‘ No thoroughfare ^ ' Keep out ’ ; ' Any one found depositing ashes or refuse on this lot will be prosecuted.’ Have I missed any, Nat? ” “ Just one,” chuckled Wingate, “ over on the 24 The Rambler Club’s northeast corner : ‘ Intruders will be promptly ejected/ It^s a wonder he hasn’t a few Gatling guns planted around.” “And just to think,” mused Tom, “he’s going to give that field to us ! ” “ Well, I like your cheek,” blazed out Nat. “ You must think you’re the whole show. Do you know what my idea is ? ” “ Guess I will in a minute.” “ Mr. Barry knows it’s such a safe proposi- tion that you fellows will get trimmed all around ” “ Oh, get out, you * Pie-eater ’ I howled Tom. “ Take a doughnut. It looks like a cipher — meaning nothing for you I ” “ We can eat up lots of things besides dough- nuts,” said Nat, sarcastically. “ I’m going to trail Mr. Rupert Barry.” “ So am I.” As they walked briskly toward the scene of action the noise and the cracks of the bats seemed to be greater than ever. By this time Mr. Barry had almost reached the high board fence which served as a back- stop and score-board. It was at once observed that Dave Brandon Ball Nine 25 had stopped practicing and was coming for- ward to meet their visitor. Bob Somers, too, was walking in from the outfield. By Jupiter, they Ve almost falling over themselves/^ jeered Nat. ‘‘ I want to hear some of the soft stuff they hand out. Bet they’ll have a tremolo in their voices.” Nat Wingate had the ability to provoke a wrangle at almost any moment. A hot flush mounted to Tom’s face. He was too eager, however, to learn the reason for Mr. Barry’s descent upon the ball field to reply. In and out through the noisy groups he led the way, soon hearing above the medley of sound the harsh, rasping voice of Kingswood’s eccentric citizen. I never could understand why boys have to make such a confounded racket while they’re playing ball,” he jerked out, impa- tiently. Good energy all gone to waste. Lie down, Canis ! ” The yellow dog seemed to have taken a great dislike to the proceedings going on all about him, and was giving voice to this feeling by a series of savage snarls and barks. 26 The Rambler Club’s Long distance conversation for me/' laughed Wingate. His ivories seem to be in good working condition.^' ril bet he's as yellow inside as out/' chuckled Tom. '' One good kick " ‘‘ And any hope for your ball field would be gone forever." ‘‘Don't stop for me, Somers." Mr. Barry was speaking. He waved a large, knotty cane peremptorily in the direction of the outfield. “ Get right back to your place." His stick struck sharply against the wooden fence. “ Here, here, you boys over there : quit that howling ; quit it, I say ! " The students who had been applauding a difficult pick-up by Charlie Blake obeyed his authoritative command. “ That's better. What's the use of howling like a pack of young pirates ? " “ If it ain't any use, it's lots of fun, mister." A stocky, freckle-faced boy, handling a very large bat, gave this answer. “ And sometimes it puts a whole lot of ginger into the crowd," he added. “ What's your name ? " “Joe Rodgers." Ball Nine V Do you go to the high school ? Keep quiet, Canis \ ” “ Not yet, sir/’ '‘Then why are you practicing on this field ? ” “ ’Cause they let me.” “ As bold as brass,” murmured Mr. Barry, in audible tones. “ Somers, I believe I requested you to keep right on with your playing.” Mr. Barry looked at the captain of the nine as sternly as though he were some culprit caught trespassing on his field. The afternoon sun played on an angular, smooth-shaven face and a pair of cold gray eyes. There was noth- ing in his expression to indicate any great sympathy with youth or their pastimes. But it was observable that, even as he spoke, his gaze was continually shifting from one group to another. “This is the first day we have practiced outside of the gym, Mr. Barry,” began Bob. “ You see it was such a bully day ” “ I must request that you eliminate such words as ‘ bully ’ when addressing me,” in- terrupted the visitor, stiffly. 28 The Rambler Club’s “ Would you like to have a little bat-out and catch, Mr. Barry ? asked Nat Wingate, in a very innocent tone. I know you of old, Wingate,’^ returned the other, frigidly. “ You may direct your remarks elsewhere. What did you say, Bran- don?^’ “ That we seem to be rounding out in pretty good shape, Mr. Barry ; and “ I didn’t come over to hear any boasting.” His figure rounded out in pretty poor shape years ago, so I’m told,” put in a tall, aggressive-looking lad to whom Nat had just beckoned. Mr. Barry turned sharply upon him, took a good look, and then remarked : “ I don’t think I ever saw you before, boy.” I don’t think I ever saw you before, either.” And what might your name be ? ” ^‘Owen Lawrence. You see, our folks just moved to Kingswood. Of course I had to go to school somewhere, and so I’m a student at the High.” And if you have any sense you’ll stick there until you get a good education,” snapped 29 Ball Nine the irascible old gentleman. Drat that con- founded dog I Keep still, Canis I If you boys have as much spirit in training as he has out of training you’ll do. Now don’t stand around gaping as if you’d never seen a man before. Go back to practice.” Mr. Barry had a way about him which im- pelled obedience to his will. For fully fifteen minutes, under his critical observation, the boys played with a dash and vim that might have brought a smile of approval from almost any one else. Then, without a word of comment, he waved his knotty stick in the direction of the captain of the nine, and, closely followed by the yellow dog, stalked back in the direction from whence he had come. CHAPTER III THE RETREAT Not far from the high school, at the end of a long row of houses, stood an unpretentious two-story frame building painted white. Big black letters almost covering the width of the house announced that therein was located Terry Guffin's Student Retreat.’^ Terry had lived in the White House ” long enough to know generation after generation of schoolboys. His pies, doughnuts and cakes were famous ; so were his chops. And many an old “ grad who had left his student days far behind found it convenient to return to Kingswood so that he might see the round, red face of Mr. Guffin, and once more partake of his tasty wares. The interior of the Student Retreat was filled with interesting souvenirs of school life — photographs, sketches, bits of writing — each possessing a significance dear to the heart of 30 Ball Nine 3 ‘ Terry GuflSn. There were rather curious paint- ings, too, on door panels, or over mantel- pieces, which showed ambition, if not high artistic ability. The largest and most impor- tant, painted on real canvas, with a gold frame around it, and hanging so conspicuously that all who entered must rest their gaze upon it, was signed David Brandon.’* The picture represented a wild stampede of cattle on the plains. Cowboys, terror-stricken animals, and clouds of dust were depicted in a spirit which had often aroused the enthu- siasm of visitors to the Retreat. At the rear of the building, a large yard enclosed by a high board fence was a favorite spot with many of the students, for tables, with the whitest of table-cloths, and comfort- able chairs were placed temptingly about. Several trees and palms, together with a number of small flower beds, helped, in warm weather, to make the place very attractive. When Nat Wingate and Owen Lawrence entered the Retreat,” late that afternoon, their ears told them before they reached the yard that it had been captured by a crowd of lively boys. And the new student of the 32 The Rambler Club’s Kingswood school immediately noted that his companion seemed to be highly popular. Hello, Nat I Hello I ” came from half a dozen throats. ^‘Zip — boom — hooray for the captain of the Stars I called out a boy almost as tall as Tom Clifton. Hello, Hackett I Hello, Talbot I greeted Nat. “ Gee — there’s ‘ Crackers,’ too. Howdy, everybody I Fellows, let me introduce Owen Lawrence.” The latter was busy for a few moments exchanging salutations. Then he plumped himself down on a chair, which the smiling Terry Guffin pushed toward him. Mr. Guffin was pleased — the round, cheru- bic face under his chef’s white cap plainly showed it. A new customer to the ‘^Retreat” generally meant a permanent customer so long as he remained a boy — and sometimes after. Owen was soon holding a rapid-fire talk with Kirk Talbot, John Hackett, Benny Wil- kins, Ted Pollock, and a heavy-set, stoop- shouldered boy wearing spectacles, and who was invariably addressed as '' Crackers.” Ball Nine 33 ^ Crackers ^ queried Owen, at one of the infrequent pauses. The heavy-set boy flushed slightly. A ripple of mirth was communicated to various groups. “ Ha, ha I ” grinned Nat. He doesn’t do it any more.” Do what? ” asked the new student. “ Why, at one time he almost supported a cracker foundry,” explained Nat — never seemed to be separated from a large bag of them.” A continuous performance,” supplemented Hackett. And of course such an awful example had to be made an example of,” chuckled Benny Wilkins. Anywhere within a five-mile zone his name is ‘ Crackers.’ When he gets be- yond, some people call him Dan and others Brown. He’s been done up brown, too ; haven’t you. Brown ? ” ** Some greenies may think so.” Well, it’s a good thing talk like that doesn’t mean a black eye for some one. What were you saying, Nat ? ” ** I’m trying to put Owen straight on who 34 The Rambler Club’s we are and what we are,” answered Nat. You see, John Hackett, Kirk Talbot and myself left school at the end of last term, and have already begun our struggle in life.” So far, it’s been something fierce, too,” confided Hackett. I’m working for my father, and the howl he raises when I want a day or two off would almost make you run out of the store.” John’s the meanest apology for a dry-goods clerk that ever skimped on a yard of cloth,” announced Benny Wilkins. Nat turned toward Lawrence. Ted Pol- lock, an old chum of ours, is still making the professors at the school throw up their hands in despair. So are most of the other chaps around here.” I’ve seen Benny Wilkins at the school,” said Owen. We must whisper that he’s seen too often everywhere. He totes around a note-book — must fill one every week. What did you put down to-day, Benny ? ” Wilkins slowly drew from his pocket the article in question, and, opening it, read : Four thirty-five p. m. Sized up the can- Ball Nine 35 didates for the ball team. No good. Four forty p. M. Tom Clifton received notification to that effect. Four forty-one p. m. Tom Clifton said so much in about three minutes that I left it all out. Four fifty p. m. Looked at a book containing logarithms, but decided that Terry Guffin’s was better.’^ “ There is hope for you yet, Benny,’^ re- marked Crackers, solemnly. Owen Lawrence paid but little attention to the boys outside of his immediate circle, for he quickly noticed that they were apparently but a chorus playing a very secondary part to the principal stars of the Retreat.'' Say, fellows, who was that elderly gentle- man who came over to the ball grounds this afternoon ? " he inquired, presently. Several started to answer at once. But Nat Wingate silenced them. Mr. Rupert Barry," he explained. They say he's the oldest graduate of the high school. Has a great lot of the stuff everybody's scrap- ping for, too — money." Awful queer old chap," confided Ted Pollock. What's all the talk about a new ball field The Rambler Club’s 36 that Tom Clifton is getting off every day ? ” asked Owen. I was just about to tell you/^ answered Nat. Hello, Terry — he raised his voice — “ are you baking that pie ? The white cap and smiling countenance of Mr. Guffin immediately appeared in the door- way. “ Just a moment, Nat,^^ he answered, rubbing his hands together. ‘‘ Hurry it up, Terry. Well, Lawrence, Mr. Barry owns a large field about three-quarters of a mile from the school. And, last year, he sprang a sensation on the crowd which some of ^em haven’t gotten over yet.” “ If I’d only known about it at the time I’d have stayed at the school and won it for the boys,” remarked John Hackett. You ? ” scoffed Benny Wilkins. ‘‘ Before night comes I guess I’ll know the particulars,” laughed Owen. Everybody keep quiet until spoken to,” commanded Nat. Mr. Barry ambled over to the school one day and saw Professor Hop- kins.” “ I’ll tell him what happened,” interrupted Ball Nine 37 Ted Pollock. You weren't there, Nat. I can see the principal now " “ You can't," declared Benny Wilkins — unless you've eaten too much pie." ‘‘ He came into the assembly room with Mr. Barry. ‘ Boys,' he said, in solemn tones, ^ you all know our esteemed fellow townsman. He tells me that on several occasions some of you have attempted to play ball on his lot.' " Thought you were going to catch it, I suppose ? " grinned Owen. Certainly did. But the principal switched off on a line of talk that filled the fellows with so much astonishment that it's a wonder they could do any studying for the rest of the week." I know a few that didn't," came from Benny Wilkins. Nat silenced him with a gesture, and went on to explain that the eccentric old gentleman who occupied the house on the hill did not go to the school to register a “ kick," but had actually offered to present them the field and a grand stand in case they' should have a win- ning ball team the following year. ^ When Bob Somers, Dave Brandon and Tom Clifton returned from a trip to the The Rambler Club’s 38 East they had started things moving with a vengeance. Assisted by Dick Travers and Sam Randall, two other members of the Rambler Club, they got the student body to vote on the proposition to form a regular athletic association. The boys, much im- pressed by the various exploits of the Rambler Club, responded with an enthusiasm that not only brought the project to a successful issue but placed in office all those who were cham- pions of Bob Somers and his crowd. Sam Randall became president, Harry Spearman, vice president, Dick Travers, secretary, and Jack Carr, treasurer. And all the representa- tives from the various classes were hot root- ers for the Ramblers. Of course many candidates for the ball team appeared, the most prominent being the big guard of the football eleven, Earl Roy croft. Certain very strong rumors floating about, however, seemed to suggest that while Earl wouldnT be given a chance, Charlie Blake, a lad who had made a failure on the school team when Nat Wingate captained it, was al- most certain of being assigned a position by the coach, Roger Steele. Ball Nine 39 With so much at stake, some of the boys began to feel that the Ramblers were having altogether too much say in the matter. Tom Clifton’s calm assumption that he would be a member of the nine was particularly annoy- ing to some of his schoolmates. Crackers insisted that a storm was brew- ing. In fact, his agitation had already re- sulted in the formation of an opposition, whose murmuring discontent, if things didn’t go right, seemed liable to break out later into a fierce roar of disapproval. The great prize for which the school was about to strive had the effect of putting this small minority into a belligerent state of mind even before the make-up of the team was actually known. When his various informers at length came to a stop, Owen Lawrence drawled : A very interesting state of affairs. I don’t like to say anything against the crowd, fel- lows, but, honestly, it seems to me that Tom Clifton is about the limit.” “ Oh, you knocker ! ” snickered Benny Wilkins. ‘‘A conceited specimen, if there ever was 40 The Rambler Club’s one/^ asserted Crackers/^ nodding emphat- ically. “ Have you heard the latest? ” ‘‘ Wait till I get out my note-book/^ said Benny. Let’s see — five ten p. m. A revela- tion by ^ Crackers ’ Brown ” “ He’s talking about the dieting racket for athletes. By Jove, he had a crowd lined up in the gym this morning, talking bigger’n any M. D. you ever listened to — fact.” A chorus of groans greeted this announce- ment. “ Pies and doughnuts barred out, I s’pose?” exclaimed Ted Pollock. I believe if he even saw one in a window he’d cross over to the other side of the street.” “Ah I That’s right, Terry.” Nat Wingate was speaking. “ Crickets — here come the doughnuts I ” Mr. Guffin had placed before the captain of the Stars and Owen Lawrence as fine speci- mens of pies as the “ Retreat ” had ever turned out. An assistant deposited a big plate- ful of doughnuts in the center of the table. “ We won’t be able to eat much supper after this,” ventured Owen. “ You only say that because you’re not used Ball Nine 41 to Guffin's,” chuckled Nat. These are regu- lar appetizers. What was I saying ? ‘‘ Nothing,” said Benny. How did you happen to think of it? ” “ What kind of work are you doing, Nat?” asked Owen. I’m secretary to my uncle, Mr. Parsons Wingate,” answered Nat. “ I can take dicta- tion in shorthand and bang on the typewriter with all ten fingers.” ‘‘And find time to play ball besides?” “ You bet I I get practice enough to keep on edge. The Stars can trim a lot of would-be big leaguers.” “ You’re going to play the school team, aren’t you ? ” “ Yes I And we expect to give ’em an awful drubbing, too.” “ Get out your note-book, Wilkins. I’m going to ask a question,” said Brown, banging the table sharply. “ All right,” assented Benny. “ Five fifteen p. M. ‘ Crackers ’ asks a question.” “ It is this,” said Brown, staring solemnly over the rim of his glasses : “ he who dares to venture within this ‘ Retreat ’ must be more CHAPTER IV THE LIST OF PLAYERS Since their return in the preceding fall Bob Somers and his crowd had certainly stirred things up at the Kingswood High. Of course, for many years, the school had been represented in local sporting events by its football and baseball teams. But there was no athletic association, little discipline, and a general policy of letting things drift along under no particular control. Now all this was changed. Immediately after the board of directors was chosen, and they, in turn, had elected officers, the business of securing a competent coach was attended to. Roger Steele, a graduate of the school, who had afterward played on a university baseball team and finally taken up the practice of law in Kingswood, readily assented to as- sume this task. Roger, a great friend of Bob Somers, entered enthusiastically into the scheme. There was plenty of good material to draw upon, a fact 44 Ball Nine 45 attested to by the number of victories won before Nat Wingate left school. As early as the beginning of February the coach sent out a call for candidates. Fresh- men, sophomores, juniors and seniors re- sponded in such numbers as to make it apparent that the boys were in hearty accord with the new spirit of things. Even while winter storms were howling practice was begun in the gymnasium. A net cage to protect the walls and windows from damage was arranged. Often while the snowflakes pattered against the panes aspiring candidates labored zealously to perfect them- selves in the national sport. Steele began to drill ^^Jack Frost” and Willie Singleton who soon gave promise of becoming real pitchers. Charlie Blake, wish- ing to retrieve his reputation, worked dil- igently. So did stout Dave Brandon. The football team of which he and Bob Somers had been members had received its bumps at the hands of Rockville Academy only a few months before, and Dave did not wish to leave school with memories of defeat lingering in his mind. Perhaps, after all, the biggest figure in these 46 The Rambler Club’s events was Tom Clifton. He had had printed a set of by-laws which were to govern the acts of the athletic association. Tom was mighty proud of this achievement, for even Coach Steele expressed the opinion that they were very good. There was no more strenuous candidate for a position on the team than the tall senior, who was usually the first in the gym and the last to leave. The greatest danger which the coach had to contend with was the tendency of the boys to overdo things. As the time for a definite selection of players drew near interest in- creased. The adherents of rival candidates began to be heard. The Somersites, however, seemed to be in the great majority, several of the Ramblers being almost certain of winning places on the team. The Kingswood High School was sur- rounded by spacious grounds in which, only a few moments’ walk from the main building, stood the gymnasium. Early on the afternoon following the intro- duction of Owen Lawrence into the select company of the “ Pie-eaters,” a great crSwd of students directed their steps toward it. A Ball Nine 47 cold, drizzly rain fell steadily ; a brisk wind shook and rattled the branches of the stately elm on the campus. But the unpleasant weather could not kill the ardor and enthusi- asm of the boys. Coats were doffed, and once again purple and white sweaters made an aggressive note of color amid the surroundings. Among the throng who came to look on were “ Crackers Brown, Owen Lawrence, Ted Pollock and Benny Wilkins. Start ’er going, fellows I The businesslike voice of Coach Steele rang through the room. “ All right, Roger, responded Bob Somers. Who’s got my glove — you, Dave ? Good I Shoot that ball over here, Tom. Thanks I Here go, ‘ Jack Frost.^ With a '' Hello, ' Pie-eater ’ I addressed to Ted Pollock, the pitcher got to work, Phil Brentall, catcher, having taken his position behind the big chalk mark on the gymnasium mat. Take it easy, boys,^^ warned Coach Steele. “ Danger of straining your arms if you donT. 