CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THE BALL GAME
When the classes were over, the girls met in the lower hall, and Eva was delighted to hear that Amanda had consented to have her voice tried. “And now you will come in with us every Saturday,” she whispered to her friend, when, for a second, they were together in the merry throng of students who were leaving the building.
When they entered the Peterson home, a few moments later, they heard a great racket overhead.
“It sounds as though there were wild Indians in the house,” Madge laughingly exclaimed. “Ho, there, Brother Everett! Are you making all that noise just by yourself?”
“Not much, sis,” a boy’s voice replied. “I have company. Be down directly.” And before the girls had time to lay off their wraps, down the stairs Everett leaped, followed by Bob Angel and Jack Doring.
“Sister mine,” Everett cried, “I do hope that you ordered grub enough, for three uninvited guests are coming to your party and we’re as hungry as Russian wolves in winter.”
Madge laughed and was about to reply, when Jack Doring exclaimed, “Miss Peterson, I do hope that we are not intruding. Bob and I had no intention of staying, but—”
Madge laughingly held up her hand as she replied, “My dear boy, if we had twenty unexpected guests, it would not inconvenience us in the least.”
“We’d just add twenty more cups of water to the soup,” Everett explained gayly, and then the Chinese gongs called them to the dining-room. The cook, who was an especial friend of Everett’s, had been duly notified by that youth, and so the correct number of places had been laid.
The boys were so excited over the coming game that they could talk of nothing else. There were two high schools in the city, and the North High was to play against the South High. Everett attended the North High, and so, of course, his guests were on his side.
“We’ll win!” Everett cried. “How could we lose? We have the best pitcher this side of Jerusalem.”
“Everett!” Madge exclaimed. “Isn’t that a good deal of a boast? Jerusalem is a long way off. Wouldn’t you better say Sunnyside?”
“No, ma’am,” Everett retorted. “Eric Brownley is the best pitcher in the whole United States, or I miss my guess.”
“Why, that’s the boy we met at Little Bear Lake, isn’t it? The one who had been brought up by that nice old lumberman?” Adele asked.
“The very same!” Everett replied.
And then, as soon as lunch was over, the merry party put on their wraps, entered the two cars, and were soon driven to the campus of the North High, where the game was to be held.
Everett was so excited that he simply had to shout, but a great disappointment was awaiting him.
The North High campus was crowded with merry boys and girls. Those who were from the South High waved bright red pennants, and those from the North High had equally bright yellow ones. Every time one of the ball-players appeared, his particular class-mates gave their yell and cheered him until he disappeared again.
“The Souths are making a great to-do,” Everett said scornfully. “As though they had a ghost of a chance of winning! Not they, with our Eric Brownley on the diamond. Now, here come the players, and when you see Eric, yell like good ones.”
The girls stood on tiptoe and watched for Eric as eagerly as did the boys. The players were taking their places and yet Eric did not appear.
“Great guns!” Everett cried in dismay. “There’s Dorset, Eric’s sub! What’s he pitching for, I wonder? Say, you wait here till I find out.”
Everett, with a heavy heart, made his way through the crowd to the diamond. One of the players gave the information that he sought, and Everett returned to his friends, looking anything but cheerful.
“It’s all up,” he said dismally. “The game is as good as lost. I’ve a mind to go home.”
“Why, Everett,” Madge asked. “What has happened?”
“Oh, that old lumberman down at Bear Lake was hurt or something, and they sent for Eric two days ago, and he said that if he possibly could, he’d be back for the big game, but he didn’t make it. Imagine anything keeping a fellow from playing this game when he’s bound to be the victor.”
“I felt sure that Eric Brownley was a fine lad,” Madge declared warmly, “and now I know that he is.”
The game had commenced and the North High was decidedly getting the worst of it. They were not even playing their best; they were all disheartened because Eric had failed them.
The students from the South High were making the place ring with their cheers. Everett was disgusted.
“We’ve as good as lost. Come on! I’m going home,” he said, when suddenly there was a commotion in the crowd.
“What’s up?” Everett asked, trying to see over the heads.
“There’s a horseman coming at top speed down the road,” some one replied, “and it might be Eric Brownley.”
“It is Eric!” Everett cried excitedly, as he pushed through the crowd.
Eric had already leaped from his foaming horse and had entered the shack. As soon as possible he reappeared in his suit, and what a cheer went up when Dorset dropped out and Eric took his place on the diamond. The rest of the nine took heart, and never before had they played such a splendid game as they did then.
When it was over the boys from the North High took Eric on their shoulders and bore him in triumph to the shack. Everett’s joy knew no bounds, and he shouted until his hero had disappeared. Soon after, the three girls and Bob and Jack bade their host and hostess farewell and sped away over the smooth road which led to Sunnyside.