Stratemeyer Edward
The Putnam Hall Rivals

CHAPTER XIX
ANOTHER CHALLENGE

“I know those fellows!” whispered Jack, as he and Andy came to a halt behind convenient trees.

“So do I. They are Mr. Strong’s two crazy relatives, Bart Callax and Paul Shaff.”

The cadets hardly knew what to do.

“I want that million dollars!” cried the man named Callax. “Give it to me!”

“And I want the order for an airship,” put in Paul Shaff.

“Bart! Paul! Let me go!” said George Strong. “You are making a mistake, I tell you!”

“If you don’t give us what we want we’ll tie you to a tree and burn you up!” cried Shaff.

“They are certainly crazy,” whispered Andy. “They ought to be in an asylum.”

“I wonder how they got here?”

“Ran away from those other relatives in the west, I suppose,” returned the young major, and he spoke the exact truth. The relatives had been looking all over for the crazy men, but without success.

Suddenly the two crazy men threw George Strong flat on his back and began to beat him with their fists.

“Come, we must do what we can!” cried Jack, and ran forward.

The man named Callax was closest to him, and raising his stick he dealt the fellow a blow that caused him to fall dazed on the sward.

At the same time Andy hit Paul Shaff a glancing blow on the shoulder. The crazy man turned, leaped up, and caught the cadet by the throat.

“Le – let go of – of m – me!” gasped Andy.

“Boys! I am glad you came!” burst from George Strong’s lips. He scrambled up and caught Shaff by the arm. “Let him go, do you hear, Paul! Let him go, I say!” And after an effort he managed to draw the crazy man back.

By this time Bart Callax was getting up. The blow Jack had dealt seemed to take much of the fight out of him.

“Do – don’t hit me again!” he whined.

“Then leave Mr. Strong alone,” answered the young major.

“I want my million dollars!”

“And I want my airship,” put in Paul Shaff. “I have an order to go to the North Pole, to get fifty polar bears for the circus!”

“If you’ll behave yourselves I’ll see that you get what is coming to you,” said George Strong. “But you mustn’t attack me in this fashion.”

“Too bad! We are so poor!” cried Callax, and suddenly began to weep. Then Shaff sat on the ground and looked the picture of despair.

“What do you want to do, Mr. Strong?” whispered Jack.

“Where is the horse and buggy?”

“The horse ran away, up the road, but maybe I can find him,” answered Andy.

“Then do so, if you can. If it can be done, I wish to place these poor chaps where they can do no further harm.”

“Better place them in a regular asylum after this,” suggested Jack.

“No asylum for me!” yelled Bart Callax, leaping up. “Good-bye!” And he dove into the bushes.

“Stop him!” cried the teacher, but it was too late. In the excitement Paul Shaff also got away, and that was the last seen of the pair for some time to come.

In the meantime Andy had gone after the runaway horse. As he surmised, the steed had not gone a great distance, and a third of a mile up the road was found in a hollow, quietly cropping the grass. Fortunately the buggy was not damaged in the least, and he had no difficulty in returning to the scene of the encounter with the turnout.

“They came upon me so suddenly that I was taken off my guard,” said the second assistant teacher, when telling his story. “I tried to reason with them and said I would take them to the Hall, but they pulled me from the buggy and dragged me into the wood. They might have killed me if you had not happened along.”

“I am glad to be of service to you,” said Jack. “But if I were you I’d make a strong effort to catch them. They are too dangerous to be left at large.”

“I’ll put some officers of the law on their track,” said the teacher, and this was, later on, done.

“Mr. Strong, perhaps this explains it!” cried Jack, as they were driving back to Putnam Hall.

“Explains what, Ruddy?”

“Those orders for goods sent out in your name. Those crazy men might do something like that?”

“That is so!” ejaculated the teacher. “It never struck me before. I must look into it without delay. No doubt they are guilty.” And this proved to be the fact.

With the coming of warm weather the thoughts of many of the students had turned to baseball. Several teams had already been organized, including one by Reff Ritter. Baxter had wanted to organize a team, but Ritter got ahead of him. However, the bully of the Hall was made pitcher, with Ritter as catcher, so he was content. Coulter played first-base and Paxton short-stop. They called themselves the Medals, and issued a challenge to any team in the school.

“That means us,” said Jack. “Baxter and Ritter are bound to get ahead of us if they possibly can.”

Since the previous summer there had been some changes made among the boys when playing baseball, and now a team was made up with Bart Conners, the captain of Company A, as captain and short-stop. Jack was pitcher, Dale catcher, Andy first-base, Pepper second-base, Stuffer third-base, Hogan center-field, Harry Blossom right-field, and Henry Lee left-field. Dave Kearney and two others were substitutes. This team was called the Browns, for all of the players got suits of brown. The Ritter and Baxter crowd procured suits of blue, with red stockings.

After a good deal of talk it was decided that the Medals and the Browns should play a game a week later, on a Saturday afternoon. Both teams at once began to practice vigorously.

“Baxter is taking private lessons from a professional pitcher who comes to Cedarville from Ithaca,” said Pepper one day. “I got the word from Hampden, who saw him.”

“Did Hampden say anything more?”

“He said Baxter was going to fool us on a new kind of a curved ball.”

The news was true. From a friend in the city the bully had gotten the name and address of the professional pitcher, and the latter was now giving Baxter as many lessons as the cadet’s spare time would allow.

The new curved ball was a difficult one to pitch, and had to be delivered by a certain swing of the wrist and the elbow. At first Baxter could not “get the hang” of it, as he said, but presently it came to him, and then he delivered the ball very well.

“That’s the way to do it,” said the professional pitcher. “Keep it up like that and you will fool ’em every inning.”

“I hope I do,” answered Dan Baxter. “I want to down that team sure.”

“Well, you keep at it, and don’t you fear for results.”

To make sure that the professional was not humbugging him, the bully pitched for his cronies in a field away from Putnam Hall. He struck out Coulter, Paxton, and Sabine in succession, and Ritter got nothing but an accidental pop fly.

“That is certainly a great ball to pitch,” was Reff Ritter’s comment. “I don’t see how we can lose if you keep that up, Dan.”

“I’ll keep it up, don’t worry about that,” was the answer. “I’ll beat them if it breaks my arm to do it.”

Everybody in the school was interested in the coming game, and in private not a few wagers were made on the result. When the two teams went out to practice Dan Baxter did not pitch the new kind of curve, and many thought his work weak in consequence.

Jack pitched in the regular way, but as soon as he heard that Dan Baxter was taking lessons from a professional the young major went at pitching in earnest and perfected his signals for his catcher, Dale. Jack could pitch a fairly speedy ball and also a drop ball that he hoped would prove effective from time to time.

The day for the game dawned fairly clear. There were a few clouds in the sky and a breeze from off the lake. The game was to begin at three o’clock and before that time visitors began to arrive from Cedarville and elsewhere, including some students from Pornell Academy.

“Hullo, here is a surprise!” cried Andy, pointing to a big automobile that was coming along the road. “Mr. Ford and his wife, and two daughters.”

“How do you do!” cried Laura and Flossie, as the automobile drew closer. “Can we come in to see the game?”

“Certainly you can!” answered Jack, warmly, and took off his cap. “We are much pleased to see you.”

“We missed the boat race, but we didn’t wish to miss this – at least the girls didn’t,” said Rossmore Ford.

“We’ll get you good seats,” said Pepper.

“Thank you, but we can stay right in the automobile,” said the wealthy gentleman.

“We expect you to win!” said Laura to Jack.

“You must win!” cried Flossie, to the others.

“We are going to try our best,” answered Andy, and the others said practically the same. Then the boys ran off, for it was time to start the game.

CHAPTER XX
ON THE BALL-FIELD

Reff Ritter won the toss-up and sent the Browns to the bat. Pepper was the first batter up, and as he took his place at the plate a slight cheer went up.

“Play!” called the umpire, one of the teachers from another school.

Dan Baxter held the ball a second, looked at the plate, and let drive.

“Strike one!” sang out the umpire, although Pepper had not struck at the sphere.

Again the ball was delivered, and Pepper sent the bat around as quickly as he could.

“Strike two!”

Then came a ball, – just a little too high. Then the sphere was delivered once more.

“Strike three! Batter out!”

“Good for Baxter! That’s the way to do it!”

“That ball shot up at the last instant,” said Pepper to Jack.

“It must be the new curved ball,” answered the the young major.

Hogan was the next to the bat. The Irish lad was usually a fairly good batsman, and when he was struck out a cry of wonder went up.

“Baxter is certainly pitching to-day!”

“Here comes Snow! He’ll hit it, I guess.”

Andy had two strikes called on him and then knocked a little foul, right in the catcher’s hands.

“Three out! That was pretty short.”

“And no hit.”

When Dan Baxter came up and took a seat on the bench a grin overspread his face.

“I guess you’ve got ’em going,” said Coulter.

“Sure thing,” answered the bully. “They won’t know where they stand when I get through with them.”

Coulter was the first player up for the Medals, and went out on a foul to third. Then came Paxton, who reached first on a drive to center. The next player followed with a fly to second. When the inning came to an end the Medals had one run.

“Hurrah for the Medals!” shouted some of the students.

“Now we must get on to that curved ball,” said Jack, as Harry Blossom went to the plate.

But Harry could no more than knock a foul and then went out on three strikes.

“Now, Jack!” called out Bart. “See if you can’t whack it out.”

Jack grasped his bat firmly and looked at Baxter sharply. The bully’s face wore a sickly grin. Jack had a strike called on him before he tried to hit the sphere. Then came another strike.

“Baxter is going to strike Ruddy out too!”

“No use of talking, Dan is a great pitcher this season.”

Again the ball came in, but it was too low and the umpire called it a ball.

Then the sphere came in just right. Jack saw it curving and did not bring his bat around until the last instant. Then followed a bunt, and while Dan Baxter fumbled with the ball Jack got to first.

“Hullo, he got to first anyway!”

“Only on a bunt,” came from a follower of the Medals.

The next player at the bat went out on strikes and the student to follow on a fly to third, and thus Jack, though he got to third, failed to score. Then the Baxter and Ritter team came in and made two runs.

“Look at that score! Browns 0, Medals 3!”

“This is certainly a winning day for the Medals!”

“That’s what it is!”

The friends of the Browns said nothing, but looked decidedly glum. The next inning resulted in a goose-egg for each side. At the end of the fifth inning the score stood Browns 0, Medals 5.

“I want to tell you about that curved ball,” said, Andy. “I have been watching Baxter closely. When his arm goes like this, it’s an in-shoot, when it goes like this it’s an out-shoot, and when it is twisted up like this, it’s a drop-ball. Now watch and see if I am not right.”

“You are right,” said Emerald. “I watched it meself, so I did.”

“Well, let us see what good watching did,” said Jack.

Hogan was at the bat, and the Irish lad got two balls and two strikes. Then came a drop-ball, but Emerald raised it up far into center-field.

“Good!” yelled Pepper. “Go, Emerald, go!” And go the Irish cadet did, and reached second-base before the fielder could send the ball up.

Hogan’s two-base hit seemed to put new life in the Browns, and at the end of that inning they had two runs to their credit. More than that, they had hit the ball six times.

“I guess we have solved the mystery of Baxter’s curves,” said Bart to his team.

“Yes, but we are still behind,” said Andy, with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well, don’t give up yet.”

“Give up? Not a bit of it!” cried the acrobatic youth.

At the end of the seventh inning the score stood Browns 3, Medals 6. Then came a long-drawn-out inning, leaving the score at the ending of the eighth Browns 6, Medals 9.

“This is our last chance,” said Bart. “We must do our level best.”

An out was made and then two players got their bases. Then came a ball which Bart himself lifted to right-field, close to the foul flag.

“Run! Run!” yelled the supporters of the Browns, and run they did, bringing in two runs and leaving Bart on third.

“That’s the way to do it!”

“One more run and the score will be a tie!”

“That was a foul!” grumbled Reff Ritter.

“Of course it was a foul!” chimed in Dan Baxter.

“It was a fair ball,” said the umpire. “Perfectly fair.”

The Medals wanted to argue, but the umpire would not listen. There was a cry from all around the diamond to “Play ball!” and the umpire pulled out his watch.

“Play in two minutes or forfeit the game,” he said, loudly.

Still grumbling, Dan Baxter walked back to the box. He sent in a ball with care and the batsman had a strike called on him. But then came a safe hit and Bart came in, tying the score, 9 to 9, amid a great cheering.

Pepper was now to the bat, but went out on a fly to second. Then came Hogan.

“Now, Emerald, we depend on you,” said Bart, in a low tone.

“I shan’t disappoint yez, not me!” grunted the Irish cadet. “I’m on to his curves, so I am!”

The very first ball came in just as Hogan wished it. He took a step, landed solidly on the sphere, and sprinted like mad for first.

“Foul ball!” sang out the umpire, when poor Emerald was halfway to second base.

“Bad cess to the foul!” panted the batsman, as he walked slowly back to the home-plate. “I thought I had third sure!”

The next ball was too high, and he let it pass. Then came another just right, and once more the Irish youth banged away with all of his might. This time the sphere went down to deep center.

“Run! run!” was the yell. “Run, Emerald!”

“Show ’em what an Irish lad can do!”

And Emerald did run, up to third. Then he saw the second-baseman muff the ball and saw Dan Baxter start for it, and he tore towards home. Over the plate he slid – and the ball came in – but just a second too late.

“The Browns are one run ahead!”

“Andy Snow is up next.”

“He won’t do much.”

“Wait and see.”

Andy had a strike called on him and then got three balls. Evidently Dan Baxter was getting nervous.

“Take your time, Andy,” said Bart. Andy did take his time, and as a result got four balls and walked to first-base.

Harry Blossom followed and Andy got to third. Then came a short hit to first, and Andy came in. By this time the Browns were highly enthusiastic, while the Medals were correspondingly dejected. Dan Baxter “went to pieces” completely, and when the Browns finally went out it was with fourteen runs to their credit.

“Now we must pull up,” said Ritter, with a scowl at Dan Baxter.

“It’s a mountain to climb over,” grumbled Coulter.

Jack was on his mettle and did all he could to steady himself. The first player up to the bat was struck out, and the second went out on a foul. Then one got to first on balls and another followed.

“Steady, Jack, steady!” whispered Pepper. “Don’t go to pieces as Baxter did.”

“I won’t,” said Jack, and shut his teeth hard.

With two out the Medals filled the bases, and then Reff Ritter came to the bat.

“Knock a homer, Reff!” shouted one of his friends. “A home run would mean four runs.”

Reff scowled at Jack as he took his place. Jack looked determined. He threw in the ball with care.

“Strike one!”

“Too high!” grumbled Ritter.

Again the ball came in.

“Ball one!”

Once again the sphere was delivered, and Reff Ritter struck at it with all his might. It sailed over Jack’s head and seemed bound for center-field, when like a flash Pepper at second leaped up and caught it in his left hand.

“Hurrah! What a fine catch!”

“That ends the game!”

“The Browns win! Hurrah!”

CHAPTER XXI
MARCHING TO CAMP

For the victory they had won our friends were warmly congratulated. Many came up and patted them on the back.

“It was a dandy catch, Pepper,” said Joe Nelson. “I never saw a better.”

“That was a fine rap of Emerald,” said Pepper. “That set the ball a-rolling for us.”

Dan Baxter felt thoroughly disgusted at the result and so did Reff Ritter and the others of the Medals.

“We might have won the game if you hadn’t gone to pieces,” grumbled Ritter to the bully.

“Huh!” answered Baxter. “I hadn’t any support,” and then he hurried for the Hall and out of sight.

“Baxter certainly pitched well for eight innings,” said Jack. “One must give him credit.”

As soon as they could get away from their friends, Jack and his chums walked over to where Mr. Ford had stationed his automobile.

“Oh, it was lovely!” cried Laura. “I never enjoyed a game more.”

“I was so afraid you were going to lose at first I hardly knew what to do,” came from Flossie. “The winning out was grand!”

“You must come over to the Lodge, now we are settled down for the summer,” said Mrs. Ford, and the cadets promised to pay them a visit if they could manage to get off for that purpose.

“They are fine people,” remarked Andy, as they watched the departure of the automobile. “And the girls are – ”

“Peaches,” finished Pepper, and then all of the boys laughed.

During the next two weeks came several more ball-matches. The Browns played with four other nines, winning two games and losing two. The Medals played six games, of which they won only two.

“Hurrah! I’ve got news for you fellows!” shouted Jack, as he burst into the gymnasium one afternoon after a long talk with Captain Putnam. “We are to go into camp for three days, starting the middle of next week.”

“Good!” shouted Dale. “That suits me to a T!”

“Me too,” put in Stuffer. “No more hard lessons in algebra, and language – ”

“And plenty to eat, eh, Stuffer?” put in Pepper. “You got more than hardtack when we were out before, didn’t you?”

“You just bet I did, – and I had a dandy time, too,” answered Singleton.

“Where are we to go?” questioned Dale.

“That hasn’t been decided on just yet. If he can arrange it, Captain Putnam is going to let us go to a spot called Bear Island.”

“Great Cæsar, I don’t want to hunt bears!” cried Harry Blossom.

“I don’t think there are any bears on the island now, although there may have been years ago,” answered the young major.

The news soon spread throughout the school that they were to go into camp, and all of the students were correspondingly happy and began to plan what they would do when on the pleasure trip. It may be explained here that Captain Putnam took the cadets out to camp several times a year, just to give them a taste of army life.

“There will be fun in camp,” said Pepper.

“Right you are,” answered Andy, with a wink that meant a great deal.

Andy and Dale were coming through the lower hall that afternoon when they ran into Mumps. The toady was almost as white as a sheet and trembling from head to foot.

“Oh! I – I’m so glad I’ve met somebody!” gasped Mumps.

“What’s the matters, Mumps?” asked Dale.

“A – a burglar!”

“A burglar?” cried Andy, and now he was all attention.

“Yes, a real burglar. I – I just saw him!”

“Where?”

“Up in the dormitories. He was in Number 3, and then he went into Numbers 6 and 7. He – he was packing up all the – the things!” Mumps was shaking so he could scarcely speak.

“Why didn’t you tell the captain?”

“I was going to, but – but I was afraid the burglar would – would – ”

“Catch you?” asked Dale, and the toady nodded.

“We’ll have to report this,” said Andy. “Was there only one?”

“I – I – guess so, but I – I am not sure. Oh, isn’t it awful!”

“Let us see for ourselves,” said Dale. “I am not afraid of a burglar.”

“Oh, he may shoot you!” gasped Mumps.

“I’ll risk that. Come, show us where he is.”

“That’s the talk,” broke in Andy. “We’ll catch him red-handed and turn him over to the captain.”

“I – I don’t want to go back,” pleaded the toady. “Bet – better call Captain Putnam.”

“Not yet, Mumps. Where was the fellow last?”

“In dormitory Number 7.”

“We’ll soon root him out!” cried Dale, and leaped up the stairs with Andy at his heels. “Come on!” And Mumps followed, but at a safe distance behind.

Dale and Andy approached dormitory Number 7 with caution. It was empty and all of the rugs from the floor were gone.

A noise in the next room reached them. They looked in and saw a man kneeling on the floor, tying half a dozen small rugs into a bundle.

“Is this the man?” asked Andy, stepping back to Mumps.

“Ye – yes,” stammered the toady. “Do – don’t let him shoot you!”

“Mumps, you are the most cowardly fellow I ever saw in my life,” went on the acrobatic youth.

“I don’t care, some burglars are desperate characters,” whined Mumps. “I’ve read of them shooting people who tried to catch ’em.”

“This man isn’t a burglar.”

“How do you know?” and now the toady’s eyes opened widely.

“He is the man the captain hired to clean all the rugs and the carpets in the Hall. While we are in camp the school is to have a general cleaning.”

“Well, I never!” murmured Mumps.

“You’re a fine burglar hunter,” said Dale, and began to laugh. “Mumps, you ought to become a detective.”

“Oh, you needn’t make fun of me,” whined the toady, and ran off with a very red face.

The story was too good to keep, and soon many of the students knew how Baxter’s toady had thought to trap a burglar, and Mumps was plagued unmercifully. The man to do the cleaning also heard of it and laughed as loudly as anybody.

On the following Wednesday morning bright and early the cadets left Putnam Hall for the brief encampment. They took with them three wagons, loaded with tents, cooking utensils, and provisions.

The battalion certainly presented a fine appearance when it started off. Every cadet was looking his best, in a well-brushed uniform with shining buttons. Each gun and sword was polished to perfection. Major Jack was at the head, and he was filled with pardonable pride when he gave the order to march.

Tap! tap! tap, tap, tap! went the drums, and then the fifers struck up a shrill and lively air, and off they moved down the road in the direction of Lake Smalley, in the center of which was located Bear Island. The distance to be traveled was seventeen miles, and they calculated to cover it before sundown with ease.

The first few miles were over a smooth road, and good progress was made. Then they struck a hill, with rather a rough highway beyond, and the cadets were ordered to take the route step – that is, walk as you please. The way was past many farms and through some small communities, and many folks came out, to wave handkerchiefs and give them a cheer. One old lady who was on her front porch sweeping shook her broom at them, but did it so pleasantly the cadets had to laugh.

“Ye march well!” shouted one old farmer. “Good! Some day ye can all go to war, maybe, like I did years ago!” And he waved a red bandana at them.

At noon they stopped at a cross-roads hotel for dinner. Their coming had been arranged for by Captain Putnam, and they partook of a good meal of vegetables and rhubarb pie. A rest of an hour followed, and during that time some of the boys strolled to the cross-roads general store and made a few purchases.

By two o’clock the battalion was again on the march. They now passed through a patch of timber and then came to a turn in the road, beyond which were some fields of wheat and corn.

“Hullo, look there!” shouted one of the cadets, and pointed upward. All gazed in the direction and saw coming toward them a big balloon. It was settling rapidly, and before the cadets could get out of the way it came down directly over the entire battalion.