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THE LUCKY SEVENTH
By Ralph Henry Barbour
The Brother of a Hero Benton's Venture Around the End The Junior Trophy Change Signals! Finkler's Field For Yardley The New Boy at Hilltop Winning His "Y" Double Play Forward Pass! The Spirit of the School Four Afloat Weatherby's Inning The Half-Back On Your Mark Four in Camp Four Afoot For the Honor of the School Captain of the Crew Behind the Line The Arrival of Jimpson
D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK
"There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splinteringwood, and----"]
THE LUCKY SEVENTH
BY
RALPH HENRY BARBOUR
AUTHOR OF "THE BROTHER OF A HERO,""BENTON'S VENTURE," ETC.
ILLUSTRATED BY NORMAN P. ROCKWELL
NEW YORK AND LONDON
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1915
Copyright, 1915, by
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Gordon Gets a Letter 1 II. Dick Consents 10 III. A Rich Man's Son 28 IV. The Team Elects Its Captain 43 V. Dick Visits the Point 57 VI. Clearfield Plays the Point 67 VII. The Blue Runabout 76 VIII. Across the Gully 87 IX. Mr. Merrick Breaks a Plate 95 X. Gordon Bears a Message 104 XI. Fudge Scents a Secret 115 XII. A Reversed Decision 126 XIII. Jack Is Suspended 141 XIV. A Visit To the Invalid 150 XV. On the Rocks 163 XVI. Dick Scores a Defeat 177 XVII. Harold Makes a Promise 193 XVIII. The Live Wires--and Mr. Potter 205 XIX. Mr. Potter Gets Busy 218 XX. Mr. Brent to the Rescue 233 XXI. Mr. Brent Telephones 246 XXII. Gordon Brings Good News 261 XXIII. Mr. Brent Throws a Ball 271 XXIV. Dick Smiles 284 XXV. "The Lucky Seventh" 302
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"There was a bump, a crash, the sound of splintering wood----" _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
"'Good-night,' responded Gordon and Fudge" 54
"Dick took Louise to the game on Saturday" 224
"The Lucky Seventh had proved itself" 298
CHAPTER I
GORDON GETS A LETTER
When Gordon Merrick neared the corner of Troutman Street he slowed downhis bicycle and finally drew in at the curb, putting out a foot to holdhimself in the saddle while he deliberated. So deep in thought was hethat when the yellow watering cart trundled up, the driver half asleepunder the blue and white umbrella, he never knew of it until thesprinkler had drenched him from foot to knee. The driver awoke at thatmoment and, looking back, saw Gordon.
"Hi, there!" he shouted. "Look out!"
Gordon, aroused from his thoughts by the unexpected bath, smiled.
"Why?" he asked. "Are you coming back?"
The joke was lost on the driver of the watering cart, however. He onlyscowled and settled back to slumber again. Gordon chuckled, and glancedruefully at his drenched trouser-leg. Except for the looks of that noharm had been done, for it was a hot morning in early July and thefeeling of the cool water against his leg had been decidedly pleasant.Evidently the incident had brought a decision in the weighty problemwhich had confronted him, for with no more hesitation he turned hiswheel to the left and peddled on down E Street.
"I'll talk to Dick about it," he said to himself. "He always knows whatto do."
The Loverings lived in the third house from the corner, one of ahalf-dozen modest abodes occupying that side of the block. All thehouses were painted white, although differing slightly in the simplicityof their architecture, and all were more or less hidden from view byhedges of lilac or arbor-vitae. Old-fashioned white picket fences peekedout between the leaves of the hedges. The street itself wasold-fashioned. Ten years before it had been in the desirable part ofClearfield, but since then the residential center had worked westwardand the row of quiet, green-shuttered cottages was being closed in bysuch unsavory neighbors as livery stables and dye works and tenements.
Dick Lovering hailed Gordon from the vine-screened porch as the latterjumped from his bicycle and leaned it against the hitching-post in frontof the little gate. "Hello, Gordie! Come on up."
Dick was seated at the cool end of the porch, which stretched the widthof the house. There was a table beside him which held a few flowers in aquaint old green vase and many books and magazines. Dick's crutchesstood against the wall within reach, for Dick, as he put it, was "veryfond of his crutches and never went anywhere without them." He wasseventeen, a tall, nice-looking boy with dark hair and eyes and just thesmallest suggestion of pallor on his lean cheeks. As Gordon came up thesteps Dick laid down the magazine he had been reading and smiled hispleasant smile.
"Been in the pond?" he asked, viewing the other's wet trousers.
"Watering cart soused me at the corner. How are you, Dickums?"
"Fine. Swell weather, isn't it? You look warm, though."
"So would you if you'd been riding all over town. Say, I got a letterfrom Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think aboutit. I've got it here somewhere."
"Where is Bert?" asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets.
"Bridgeport, Connecticut. He's working for his uncle in some sort of afactory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week.Here it is. You'd better read it."
"You do it," smiled Dick. "I'm lazy to-day."
"Well, he says--Where is it?--Here we are. 'I'm sending a letter thatcame the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we're still playingball and wants a game with us. I haven't answered it. What I wasthinking was why don't you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of thefellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot offun. Those fellows at the Point aren't anything to be scared of. Youcould get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitchfor you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don't you?Anyway, you answer the letter. I'm awfully busy here and don't have muchtime for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all thetime and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tellHarry Bryan when you see him that he's got my glove and is to send it tome because I may need it. We're getting up a team here at the factory.We've got a dandy pitcher and I guess they'll put me at short. Don'tforget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.'"
Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. "What do you think?" he asked.
"Why, I dare say they will."
"Dare say who will? Will what?"
"Put Bert at short," chuckled Dick.
"Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?"
"Good, I'd say. I suppose," with a humorous glance at his crutches, "youcame around to see if I'd play third base for you."
"Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don't see how you can always be socheerful about--about it! I couldn't."
"Well, it isn't hard, Gordie, when you've had seventeen years' practice.Of course, if I'd been able to get around like other fellows andthen--then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chapmight as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don't miss muchfun.
I can't play games or run or skate or--or do a lot of things I'dlike to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that ifI _could_--well, play third base, say, I'd do it better than the nextchap. The beauty of it is that you can't prove I wouldn't!"
"I'll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and morefootball than most of the fellows who play."
"Why not?" laughed Dick. "They don't have as much time to study it as Ido. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mindabout me. What's this Billings chap say?"
"Oh!" Gordon pulled another sheet of paper from the envelope and readits contents. "'Mr. Bert Cable, Captain Clearfield High School BaseballClub, Dear Sir: A lot of us fellows at the Point are getting up a ballteam and we want games. Will you play us? We'll play on our own field oron yours, just as you say. Any date after July 10th will suit us,Wednesdays or Saturdays preferred. Our fellows will average about thesame as your team, I guess. Please let me hear from you, and if thereare any other teams around Clearfield we could play with I wish you'dlet me know and send managers' addresses. Very truly, Caspar Billings,Captain, Rutter's Point Baseball Association.'"
"Caspar Billings," mused Dick. "Which one of the Silk Stocking Brigadeis he, Gordon?"
Gordon smiled. "I don't remember him particularly. He's a sort of chumof Morris Brent, though."
"That all you can say for him?" asked Dick. "I suppose Morris will playwith the Pointers?"
"I guess so. He won't be much of a help, though. He plays balllike--like a turtle!"
"Morris says," replied Dick with his slow smile, "that he can play a lotbetter than most of you fellows and that if Bert and Tom Haley and someof the others weren't down on him he'd have made the team last spring."
"Guff! He can't catch a ball. He's not a bad sort, Morris, if his dad_does_ own the town, but he's no Ty Cobb! Well, what do you think aboutgetting up a team, Dickums?"
"Why not? You've got plenty of fellows. Most of the school team arestill around, aren't they?"
"All except Bert and Warner Jones and Joe Browne."
"Where's Warner?"
"I don't know. Gone away with his folks somewhere for the summer. Wishmy folks would do that."
"Well, get out your pencil, Gordie, and let's make up the team. Haley,pitch, and Lanny, catcher----"
"I'll play first and Harry Bryan second----"
"How about Will Scott?"
"Third. Then for shortstop----"
"Jack Tappen?"
"N-no, he'd better play in the outfield. I'll put him down for right. Iguess Pete Robey's the chap for short. That leaves us Way for left fieldand I guess Fudge will do for center. He can't hit much, but he can pulldown a fly."
"There you are, then. What will you call the nine? You can't be the HighSchool team, I suppose."
"N-no, we'll have to find a name. The Clearfield--what, Dickums?"
"Rovers?"
"Sounds like a troupe of trained dogs," laughed Gordon. "We might callourselves the Purple Sox, only it's sort of hard to say."
"Shorten it," suggested Dick. "Call yourselves the 'Purps.'"
"That's worse than the Rovers! Why not just the Clearfield Ball Club?"
"Why not? That's settled. Now you want a manager----"
"Got one."
"You have? Who?"
"You."
"Me!"
"Surest thing you know. That's partly why I came. To tell you. You see,I thought you'd want to know it."
"Very thoughtful of you," Dick laughed. "But will you tell me how I canmanage a ball team, you idiot?"
"Why can't you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and lookafter the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make mecaptain----"
"Which they will, as it's your scheme!"
"It's really Bert's. But if they do I'm going to tell the other fellowsthat they've got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I doand you're going to be the real thing."
"Nonsense!"
"No nonsense about it. That's settled, then."
"But, look here, I'd have to go to places with you and--and--well, youknow, Gordie, I can't afford to do that very often."
"It won't cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club.Besides, we'll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess.Now I'm going to see Lanny and talk it over with him."
"Well, all right. I'll be manager if you really want me to. I'd like it.Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think----"
"You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death," repliedGordon severely. "And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you offthis porch now and then. You don't get enough sunshine and fresh air."
"Considering that I'm outdoors all day and sleep with my head throughthe window," laughed Dick, "that's a bit of a joke. But have your ownway, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?"
"Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I'll come over again after dinner. Rah forthe Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!"