The Lucky Seventh Part 16

Gordon shook his head. "Maybe thirty dollars," he said finally. "What do you think?"

"Bet it will be nearer a hundred," said Fudge. "Repairs on automobiles cost like anything."

"Fudge knows," remarked Lanny. "His repair bills are something frightful, aren't they, Fudge? Why, he was saying just the other day, Gordie, that he had half a mind to sell two or three of his cars!"

"Th-that's all right," sputtered Fudge. "I've heard Mr. T-T-Turner say th-th-that--"

"Of course you have," agreed Gordon soothingly. "By the way, Lanny, heard the latest? Fudge is going to get a job with Castle at the soda fountain."

"That s-s-s-s-so?" laughed Lanny.

"Yes. Can't you see Fudge, with a white ap.r.o.n on, leaning across the counter asking, 'What kind of s-s-s-s-soda will you have, Miss?'"

"'S-s-s-sarsparilla, please,'" responded Lanny.

"'S-S-So s-s-s-sorry, but we're all out of s-s-s-sarsparilla. We've got s-s-s-some nice ch-ch-ch-ch-chocolate, though.'"

"Oh, dry up," said Fudge, with a grin. "If you fellows come around there I'll p-p-poison you!"

"Well, come on, fellows, it's supper time," said Lanny. "Don't you take that car out and go 'joy riding,' Mr. Ryan."

"Huh!" growled the Brent coachman, who had viewed the proceedings with deep pessimism. "I wouldn't touch the thing for a hundred dollars. How do I know it won't be blowin' me up some fine night?"

"It won't if you treat it kindly," Fudge a.s.sured him. "Give it plenty of oats and hay, Mr. Ryan, and a drink of gasoline now and then and it'll be as quiet as a lamb."

They left the coachman muttering over the harness he was cleaning and got on their wheels. "Who will you get to look at it?" asked Lanny as they rolled homeward.

"I don't know. Not Stacey, anyway. Of course I'll have to talk with Morris first, and Mr. Brent too, I guess. And maybe it won't come to anything."

"What won't?" asked Fudge suspiciously.

"Never you mind, son. It's something that doesn't concern little boys."

"Go on and tell me," begged Fudge. "Is it a secret?"

"It wouldn't be if you knew it," answered Gordon unkindly.

"I'd like to know when I ever blabbed anything," exclaimed Fudge indignantly. "Didn't I know all about Charlie Matthews a whole week before anyone else did? And didn't I--"

"Well, we may tell you some time," teased Gordon. "What do you think, Lanny?"

"I guess so. It would cost money to advertise it in the paper, and so--"

"Oh, you make me tired," growled Fudge. "I don't want to know it anyway.

'Tain't anything, I'll bet!"

"Not a thing, Fudge," agreed Lanny.

"Then what you so-so mysterious about?" Fudge demanded.

"To arouse your curiosity, Fudge. Good-night, Gordie. Maybe you'd better tell him before he busts up. Good-night, Fudge. Say, we play Lesterville Sat.u.r.day, don't we?"

"You bet! And don't forget practice again to-morrow. We want to beat those fellows."

"Well, we've got a perfect record so far," laughed Lanny. "Our percentage is one thousand. Played one, won one, lost none. Are the Pointers going to play us again?"

"Sure! I told d.i.c.k to see Caspar Billings to-day if he had a chance and see if they'd come over here a week from Sat.u.r.day."

"That's good. Bet you, though, they lick us next time. So long."

Lanny sped homeward and Gordon and Fudge parted midway between their gates. "You come over after supper, Fudge, and I'll tell you what that is we were talking about."

"Thanks, but I guess I don't care to know," replied Fudge a trifle haughtily. Gordon laughed.

"Don't be a chump. We were only fooling. All the fellows are going to know about it, but I'll tell you first if you'll come over."

"You told Lanny first," Fudge objected doubtfully. "But-I'll come."

CHAPTER XII

A REVERSED DECISION

Two days later the Clearfield Baseball Club met at the railroad station shortly after dinner time and boarded the train for Lesterville. Only Harry Bryan was missing. A press of business had developed at the grocery store and Mr. Bryan had, to Harry's sorrow, set his foot down on a Sat.u.r.day holiday. A small youth named Tim Turner, a youthful crony of Fudge's, was drafted to play in right field and Jack Tappen was moved to second in Harry's place.

None of the fellows was very hopeful of beating Lesterville, for the neighboring mill town had maintained for several years a nine which averaged fully two years older than Clearfield. But, as d.i.c.k pointed out, the game would be fine practice, even if they were beaten. "We really need," said d.i.c.k, "to run up against a spanking good nine and see how the game is played."

Some of the fellows hooted at that, but d.i.c.k only smiled. "That's all right," he replied. "I'll wager that you'll learn one or two tricks to-day worth knowing."

"What's their pitcher like?" inquired Fudge anxiously.

"They have two of them, Fudge, and they're both pretty good."

"They won't be hard for Fudge," said Pete Robey. "Fudge will eat 'em alive!"

"Bet you I make as many hits as you do," responded Fudge eagerly. "Come on, now! Wh-wh-what do you say?"

But Pete only grinned and shook his head. You couldn't start an argument with Pete.

On the way to Lesterville d.i.c.k exhibited a list of games which he had already arranged. Rutter's Point was to play a return contest on the High School field a week from to-day, Logan was to visit Clearfield the following Wednesday and Corwin was to come a week later. "We have next Wednesday open," explained d.i.c.k, "and a week from Sat.u.r.day. I don't believe we'll be able to find a game for Wednesday, but I've written s.h.i.+rley at Springdale to get up a team to play us that Sat.u.r.day. I've told him we'd go over there."

"Fine!" exclaimed Tom Haley. "I'd love to have another chance at those fellows!"

"Well, I suppose it won't be quite the same team that we played last month," said d.i.c.k. "I dare say some of their fellows have gone away for the summer. But that gives us three games anyhow, and perhaps four. And I heard of a team over at Locust Valley which may like to play us."