“It’s going to be a circus,” replied Dick. “I dare say they’ll be selling popcorn and peanuts there!”
“Sure to! Well, so long. Tell Potter I’m crazy about it. By the way, how are you and young Townsend getting on? Loring told me yesterday that the kid thinks you’re about the finest thing that ever walked on—I mean——”
“Ever hobbled on two crutches,” laughed Dick. “Well, Harold and I pull together pretty well these days. The boy is really working like a slave, Billings. I didn’t think he could do it.”
“He’s a heap more decent than he was the first of the season. You always wanted to kick him then. Now he behaves like a real fellow. I suppose he’s told you he is our official scorer now? He doesn’t do so badly, either. If you criticize his way of scoring he looks at you haughtily and says, ‘This is the way Lovering does it, and he knows!’”
“You’ll have to lay the blame on me, then, if your scorer doesn’t do you justice, Billings. Good-bye!”
It was Fudge who most delighted in the sensational aspect of the third contest with Rutter’s Point. Fudge loved excitement and color and romance, and for that reason the _Reporter’s_ daily items about the soul-stirring event filled him with joy. He started a scrap-book and almost filled it with the amazing articles that appeared from Mr. Potter’s feverish and versatile pen. On the morning after Dick’s call on Caspar Billings the _Reporter_ blazed forth at the top of the third column of the first page as follows:
CLEARFIELD AND RUTTER’S POINT TO PLAY OFF TIE ON AUG. 27—LOCAL CHAMPIONSHIP AT STAKE—WHAT CAPTAINS SAY.
What the captains said was that they expected a close game and didn’t care to predict the winner. At least, that’s what they really said. In Mr. Potter’s account they talked whole paragraphs and said a lot more. Gordon read his remarks with astonishment and began to wonder whether he had not possibly said all those things after all!
[Illustration: “Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday”]
Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday and did not have to go by way of the Common. Fortunately, several of Louise’s girl friends were there and Dick’s frequent absences from her side were not so noticeable. Hemlock Camp presented a husky, sun-browned dozen of young athletes who, led by a clever captain, played the sort of baseball one reads of. The Camp’s pitcher was something of a marvel and soon had Dick’s charges eating out of his hand, to use Harold’s expression. The contest developed into a pitcher’s battle in which Tom had slightly the worst of it and which Hemlock Camp ultimately won by the score of 8 to 6. If the game was not quite so interesting as some previous contests, it was at least nearly free of errors and full of fast, clean playing. Dick regretted on the way home that Louise had seen a defeat instead of a victory, but Louise declared that she had enjoyed it all very much.