MR. BRENT TO THE RESCUE

A big crowd turned out the following Sat.u.r.day for the Lesterville game.

As a manufacturing town Lesterville was something of a rival to Clearfield and baseball lovers of the latter place were eager to see the Lesterville players humbled. By half-past two-the game was scheduled for three o'clock-the stand was well filled. d.i.c.k's charges reached the field soon after the half-hour and began practice. They had, however, scarcely begun throwing the b.a.l.l.s around when there was a commotion at the gate and Tim Turner was seen excitedly gesticulating toward d.i.c.k, who, near first base, was watching the team. d.i.c.k hurried across to the gate and found Tim trying to exclude a short, red-faced man in blue overalls.

"He says he wants to get in to open the big gate," explained Tim. "He says they're going to begin work in here. They've got a cart down the street there and a lot of men and--"

"Sure," said the man in overalls. "We're going to plow in here. Them's the orders."

"But you can't do it now," exclaimed d.i.c.k. "We're going to play in half an hour. Those folks on the stand have paid to see the game. Can't you wait until Monday?"

"We cannot," replied the man emphatically. "Mr. Brent give me the contract to build the street through here and me time's valuable. You'll have to play your game somewhere else, I'm thinking."

"But we can't do that! There isn't any other place! Look here, Mr. Brent gave us permission to use this field and I'm sure he wouldn't want you to come and break up our game like this. The other fellows have come all the way from Lesterville to play us."

"'Tis no affair of mine, young feller." The man tried to push by d.i.c.k and Tim, but many of the audience, attracted by the argument, had gathered around, and these, taking d.i.c.k's side, stood immovably in the way. The contractor showed anger. "Now you fellers let me through here till I open them gates down there," he bl.u.s.tered. "If you don't we'll break 'em down."

"Try it!" said someone eagerly, and a laugh of approval went up.

"I'll get the cops here if you make trouble for me an' me men! An' if it's trouble you're lookin' for--"

"Oh, run away till the game's over, can't you?" asked another of the throng. "Be a sport! What's the good of busting up the fun?"

"An' me losin' money while you fellers play ball, eh? What for would I be doin' that? You leave me get to the gates."

"Nothing doing, friend! Better back out!"

"Hold on a minute," said d.i.c.k quietly. "Will you wait fifteen minutes, Mister-er--"

"Me name's Mullin," growled the contractor. "What'll I be waitin' fer?"

"To give us a chance to see Mr. Brent about it."

"I got me contract, an'--"

"I know," said d.i.c.k soothingly. "That's all right. You've got a perfect right to come in here and do whatever you've got to do, but it's going to put us in an awful mess. Give us time to find Mr. Brent and see what he says about it, won't you?"

"How long will it take?"

"Not long. Say fifteen minutes. He's probably here in town. I'll ask his son. He's over there in the stand." d.i.c.k wasn't at all certain that Morris had arrived, but he risked it. The contractor hesitated and finally nodded surlily.

"All right. I'll give you till three o'clock. Then I'm goin' in here, an' if anyone tries to stop me--"

"I understand. Thank you. Tim, pa.s.s the gentleman inside until we settle this."

"I'll wait here," said the contractor grimly.

d.i.c.k hurried across to the stand and searched for Morris. Presently he found him, with Louise at his side, halfway up the slope.

"Is your father in town, Morris?" he asked anxiously after he had greeted Louise.

"I don't know. What's wanted, d.i.c.k?"

d.i.c.k explained hurriedly and Morris whistled. "He may be at his office or he may be on his way out to the Point. He doesn't usually stay in town on Sat.u.r.day afternoons in summer. I'll see if I can find him, though. Only thing is, it'll take me a long time to hobble over to his office."

"I can do it quicker, I guess. Or, hold on! I know! I'll get Gordon to go. I'll be back presently."

d.i.c.k hurried down to the diamond and summoned Gordon from first base.

Practice was still going on, but in a desultory way, for most eyes had been turned toward the gate. As quickly as he could d.i.c.k explained what had happened. "He will do it for you if he will for anyone," ended d.i.c.k.

"See if he won't call off the workmen until after the game or until Monday, Gordon. Morris says he may be at his office. If he isn't he's gone home to the Point. Try the telephone in that case. And try to get back here by three. That chap won't wait much longer."

Gordon nodded and sped toward the gate just as the Lesterville team came onto the field. He was in his playing clothes, but there was no time to change them and he didn't, as a matter of fact, give much thought to them. It was five blocks to Mr. Brent's office in the bank building, and two of the blocks were long ones. Gordon did the distance in five minutes and leaped up the marble stairway to find a clerk just locking the outer door of the office.

"Mr. Brent?" he gasped.

"Gone home," replied the clerk, looking curiously at Gordon's attire and perspiring countenance. "He left about five minutes ago. You might catch him before he gets the trolley."

Gordon raced off again and fortune was with him. Only a block down F Street he descried Mr. Brent in front of him walking briskly toward the car line and tapping the pavement with his cane. Gordon overtook him just over the Main Street crossing. Morris' father turned at the boy's breathless hail.

"Ah, that you, Merrick? How do you do! Want to see me?"

"Yes, sir, please!" gasped Gordon. "Mr. Brent, they're trying to get into the field, sir, to start work on it this afternoon. And we're playing Lesterville and there's a big crowd there, sir--"

"You mean that Mullin is starting work there? Well, that's all right, my boy. I told him to."

"Yes, sir, of course, but-but couldn't he wait until Monday, sir? We are going to play Lesterville, and they're here and there's a lot of folks paid to see the game."

"Oh, that's it, is it? Why, I don't know, Merrick. What does Mullin say?

It's his affair now. He has the contract for the work, you see."

"He says he won't wait, Mr. Brent. But if you told him to--"

"But really, Merrick, I haven't any right to interfere!"

"It-it's your field, sir! And you said we could use it!"

Mr. Brent frowned. "I said you could use it until I was ready to put the street through, Merrick. Wasn't that it?"

"Yes, sir, I suppose so," replied Gordon dejectedly. Mr. Brent drew his big gold watch from his waistcoat pocket, snapped it open, frowned at it and snapped it shut again.

"As a matter of fact, Merrick, if the city council hadn't held me up on that business you'd have lost your field weeks ago. You ought to be thankful for that. We're late on starting that work as it is and I prefer not to have any more delay. I'm sorry, but you boys will have to play your game somewhere else." He smiled, dropped his watch back to his pocket and turned toward the car line.

"There isn't any other place, sir," said Gordon sadly.

"No other place? Why, there must be lots of places! I've seen boys playing ball all sorts of places. There's a back-lot behind my offices, now. I've seen them playing there day after day-and making a lot of noise, too. Come now, Merrick, you're fibbing a little, aren't you?"

"No, sir, really," Gordon answered earnestly. "You can't play a real game of baseball on a small lot, sir. I guess-I guess you've never seen one, Mr. Brent."

"Seen a game of ball? N-no, I suppose not. I thought all you needed was an empty lot or a back-yard, Merrick. You say there isn't any other place?"