Fast Nine; or, A Challenge from Fairfield

"I received this by special messenger not more than half an hour ago," remarked the scout master of the Hickory Ridge Troop.

"Was it Felix Wagner, the second baseman of Fairfield, who brought it?" asked Lil Artha; "because I saw him on his wheel pass our house just before I came out."

"I believe he did say that was his name," replied Mr. Garrabrant, "though I didn't bother asking him, and might not even have remembered it only for your mentioning the same. Hurry along, Landy, if you want to hear the challenge read."

"Well, I do now, the worst kind, even if I ain't on the regular team," replied the fat boy. "Something might happen to one of our fellows, and then perhaps they'd give me a show. I know I'm a little clumsy, but I'm improving all the time and can run half a mile now without breathing very hard."

"Hold your horses, Landy, and give Mr. Garrabrant a show!" called one.

"Yes, we want to hear about the challenge; we can listen to your talk any old time, Landy. You'll be with us some time yet," added another.

The scout master held up his finger, and instantly every sound ceased. Even the boys present who did not belong to the regular scouts understood that Mr. Garrabrant enforced obedience, and were ready to yield it with the rest. Besides, even if they did not play on the team, they belonged in good old Hickory Ridge, and the interests of the town were dear to their boyish hearts.

No sooner had Mr. Garrabrant finished reading this communication than a great uproar broke out. Two dozen tongues wagged at the same time. Everybody seemed to have something to say on the subject, and while most of them applauded the tone of the challenge, there were numerous suggestions in the air.

Again did the scout master hold up his hand.

"Silence!" hissed Lil Artha, with both hands motioning at the same time.

"Mr. Garrabrant says be still, fellows!" called another.

When it was so quiet they could almost have heard a pin drop, the scout master once more addressed the fifty-odd boys around him.

"Please remember," he said, pointedly, "this is a matter that concerns only the Boy Scouts. I expect every other fellow to keep the utmost silence while we talk it over. You are being handsomely treated in being allowed the privilege of staying here and listening to what we have to say. Now, scouts, what is your pleasure about this courteous challenge?"

"I move that it be immediately accepted, and the time be set as Monday next at three in the afternoon, and the game to come off on the Basking Ridge diamond," suggested Mark.

"Second the motion!" followed Lil Artha, quickly.

"Any remarks before the motion is put?" asked Mr. Garrabrant, smiling as he looked at the eager faces by which he was surrounded.

"Are we to take it for granted that the Basking Ridge people would allow us to come over and use their diamond, sir?" asked Elmer.

"That is a point well taken," replied Mr. Garrabrant, "and I will say for the general information that I asked the messenger about that very thing. He assured me that the Fairfield people have the written consent of the owner of the ground at Basking Ridge. And the people of the town are just wild for the game to come off there. They are starved for good baseball, since their club broke up early in the season. So that point is disposed of. Any other question, boys?"

"There is only to be this one game, I understand it, suh?" queried Chatz.

"Only this one game," replied the gentleman.

"And the club that wins will be known as the champion team of the Boy Scouts league in this part of the state—is that it, suh?" the Southern boy went on.

"I so understand it," Mr. Garrabrant answered.

"There isn't anything said about umpires, suh; and we've found in the past that if we want to have a square deal the umpire should never come from either of the towns playing in the game," Chatz declared, positively.

"I took the pains to ask the messenger about that," said Mr. Garrabrant, smiling, "for I realized that half of our trouble in the past has come from having a partisan umpire. But the messenger who carried the challenge said that Home-run Joe Mallon, who belongs to the Tri-State League, is home in Basking Ridge, waiting for a broken arm to heal, and that he'd gladly do the umpiring. You know he used to be an umpire long before he got to playing ball. So that question is fixed, too. Any more?"

"Question! Question!" shouted a number of the scouts, eagerly.

When the motion, to the effect that the challenge of the Fairfield nine be unanimously accepted, was put, it met with not a single dissenting vote, and Mr. Garrabrant called it settled.

"The committee will go with me immediately following the game to-day, and after we have drafted our answer we'll get it over to Fairfield to-night, if I have to borrow somebody's car to do it," declared the scout master.

Then the cheers broke out in earnest. Every boy in all Hickory Ridge would be circulating the great news before night. Little need there would be to go to any expense in getting out posters when there was such a splendid circulating medium close at hand.

"Now let's start play!" called Chatz, impatient to see whether Elmer would put in that tantalizing slow ball such as always proved such a tempting bait to the ordinary batter, causing him to swipe the air fiercely, besides losing confidence in himself meanwhile.

In a short time the scrub game began. Johnny Kline was on the firing line for the scrub, and he certainly had some speed along with him that day, for he sent them in "scorching hot," as Lil Artha declared.

However, it seemed as though Elmer and his chums just lived on speed, for they nearly every one fattened their average of batted balls that eluded the vigilant fielders.

Of course, with everything favoring the regular team, they soon began to pile up runs, while sensational fielding on their part cut the hard-working scrub team out of several tallies.

After the game had run through seven innings it was called because the hour was getting on toward six.

"And we have a meeting to-night at which the committee will report," said Mr. Garrabrant.

"How does the score stand now?" asked an outsider who had been away most of the time after the fourth inning, and only just returned when they came in off the field.

"Seven to one, in favor of the scouts," some one replied.

"It would have been a shut out only for Ty Collins out in center letting that swift fly pass him, that Johnny Kline made his home run on," replied another.

"All the same it was a hard-fought game, fellows," remarked the genial scout master, who knew the outsiders felt very sore over their inability to hit Elmer, and whose nature it was to soften hard blows for the under dog.

"If it had been any other pitcher we'd have knocked the stuffing out of him, and that's no lie," asserted the captain of the scrub nine, defiantly. "My team had their batting eyes along, but that balloon ball fooled us every time. It's sure the finest ever, and I see poor old Fairfield's finish if ever she gets up against Elmer this year."

"I see you found your old mouse-colored cap again, Mark," remarked Lil Artha. "Glad you went back after it this morning. Was beginning to be afraid you might put in a claim against me for a new lid, because I was the cause of your losing that one."

Several others heard what was said, and, of course, boy-like demanded to know what Lil Artha meant; so he simply said Mark lost his cap while scuffling near the bank of the Sunflower River, while they were on their way home from fishing on the preceding evening at dusk.

Both Mark and Elmer had arranged it between them to keep on the watch and see if anyone appeared to be any ways surprised at Mark wearing the familiar gray cap. But so far as they were able to notice the matter caused only a slight passing ripple, and was then apparently forgotten.

If the party who had found the cap, and later on deliberately left it under the prize peach trees of Colonel Hitchins, in order to get Mark in bad odor with that gentleman, were present, he had the shrewdness to avoid showing any feeling of astonishment that would naturally come to him on seeing the owner of the cap wearing it again, with the utmost indifference.

"Nothing doing, Elmer," whispered Mark to his chum, in rather a disgusted tone, when they found themselves apart from the rest of the homeward-bound players and spectators.

"If you mean with regard to finding out who had your cap, I guess you hit the nail on the head," chuckled the other. "Either the fellow wasn't there, or else he was smart enough to keep a straight face, and take no interest in your old cap."

"Then I don't wear it again, I tell you," remarked the other. "It's pretty punk anyhow, and whoever had it, started to tear the lining out. Just see how it's torn, would you?"

Elmer took the cap and glanced at the badly used interior.

"It is, for a fact," he remarked, as a look of intelligence flashed across his face, only to vanish again. "Looks like it had been through the war. Are you sure the lining wasn't torn that way when you lost it, Mark?"

"Not one bit, I give you my word. But enough of that. The thing haunts me if I happen to wake up in the night. D'ye know I just see before me that one question: 'Who found Mark Cummings's cap?' But never an answer comes, and I keep groping in the dark. Perhaps some day I may happen on the answer, Elmer, or you may, for you're always so smart at solving riddles."

"Perhaps I may, Mark, and if I do you can just bank on it I'll be telling you the first thing," laughed the other.

"Well, I should guess you would," declared Mark.

Then others joined them, and the conversation became general; of course, pretty much all of the talk being in connection with the coming battle with the strong Fairfield team that had given them so hard a tussle two years ago.

"But we're twice as strong now as then, boys," said Mark. "We didn't have our prize pitcher then, and some of us have improved a heap in that time."

"So has Matt Tubbs and several of his nine," declared Ty Collins, who played center. "They beat the Rochesters early in the season, when the regulars were practicing. Don't you believe for one minute we're going to have a walkover. The Fairfield team's a hustling lot, they tell me, and always working for runs. They're bigger than our men every way."

"They can be as tall as the housetops," chuckled Lil Artha, "and that won't help one bit to meet up against Elmer's benders, or engage that balloon ball he has learned to throw just as good as Christy Matthewson ever did."

"Oh, what rotten stuff!" mocked Elmer, though of course he could not help feeling satisfied with the confidence which his teammates seemed to repose in him.

A short time later they reached the borders of the town, where they divided up in smaller groups, according to where their homes chanced to lie.

"Remember the meeting to-night, boys!" had been the last words of Mr. Garrabrant, and a number who did not belong to the scouts wished they had the nerve to put in an application right away, for they did seem to have such glorious times.

When Elmer parted from his chum, and walked on to his own home, he was nodding and muttering to himself somewhat in this style:

"Yes, perhaps I may have some news for Mark about that blessed old cap before a great while goes by, because I've got my suspicions. But now it's mum as an oyster for me."

CHAPTER V.

On the following morning about ten o'clock Elmer was passing along the road a short distance from his house, carrying quite a good-sized package, when he heard his name called from the rear.

Turning around, he discovered the tall, angular form of Lil Artha hurrying after him and making motions as though he wanted to overtake him.

"Hello! were you looking for anyone?" laughed Elmer, as the long-legged chap covered the intervening ground at a great rate and joined him.

"Well, I was just on my way to your house to ask you something when I glimpsed you turning the bend. So I put on a little steam, and here I am," replied the one who was considered by all odds the best walker among the scouts, barring none.

"Why, yes, I'm on my way over to Mr. Bailey's with something he wants, and which my father has just run across. Thought I'd take the short cut through his patch of woods, as it cuts down the distance a third. If you haven't anything else on hand just now, what's to hinder you going along, Lil Artha?"

"Nothing that I can see," replied the party who received the invitation, falling into step at Elmer's side. "And if you feel tired carrying that big package just heave it over to me; I'll spell you."

"Oh, it looks heavier than it really is, but I'll take you at your word if I feel that way. Now, what was it you wanted to see me about?"

It proved that the long-legged first baseman had been doing considerable thinking in connection with the coming game of baseball. He believed he had discovered a way where a few little changes in the batting order and such things would add materially to the strength of the team.

This was a subject very close to Elmer's own heart, and he was ready and willing to talk about it in and out of season.

So the two boys walked along the road debating the matter seriously. Lil Artha had prepared himself to back up his claims with all the shrewdness of a lawyer advancing his ease before a jury, and knowing how enthusiastic the other was when he had a subject in his mind Elmer was very careful not to allow himself to be carried off his feet by such eloquence.

Such a little thing as the arrangement of the batting order has won and lost innumerable games of baseball. Some fellows, once they manage to reach first base, are almost certain to get around, if one or two sure pinch hitters follow. And since Lil Artha knew the peculiarities of the Hickory Ridge fellows much better than Elmer did, because the latter was a comparative newcomer, he was in a position to give advice.

Of course, as field captain, Lil Artha had the right to make changes himself, but he wanted advice from the pitcher, with whom he worked in common for the good of the team.

When they came to the spot where the short cut through the woods began Elmer turned into the path. Lil Artha had insisted on taking over the package that was going to Mr. Bailey, and as the trail was exceedingly narrow in places Elmer was compelled to step ahead.

He kept turning his head as he listened to the arguments advanced by his comrade, and occasionally made a reply.

They were now in the midst of the Bailey woods, known all over the region as the finest and most extensive grove within some miles of town. On this warm August morning it was cool under those big trees, and one of Elmer's reasons for taking the short cut now became apparent, since the dusty road promised a hot walk as well as a much longer one.

Squirrels barked as they played among the branches above; birds whistled, crows flapped their wings and cawed solemnly at being disturbed in their caucus; a timid rabbit darted out of a patch of brush, stopped to observe the intruders, and then bounded away as though not very much frightened; for this being close season the report of a gun was as yet an unheard thing in Bailey's woods.

All at once Elmer came to a sudden stop, so that Lil Artha, intent on the point he happened to be arguing at the time, almost ran into his comrade.

"What's the matter—stub your toe, or get a bug in your eye?" he asked, as he clutched the package tighter to prevent its dropping to the ground.

"Not a bit of it," replied Elmer; "but what in the world do you suppose that queer sound can be?"

Now that his attention was called to it, Lil Artha also detected the noise which had attracted his chum's notice.

"What d'ye think it could be, now?" he asked, turning a look of wonder on Elmer.

The other shook his head as though puzzled.

"I thought I knew every animal you could find in these woods, and the sound of his grunt or squeal, but that's a new one on me," he remarked.

"I tell you," said Lil Artha, after listening again intently; "it must be a pig, that's what. There, didn't that sound just like a big grunt, and wasn't it followed by a squeal? One of Bailey's hogs had sneaked out of its pen and is rooting around. Perhaps it's got into trouble. We'd better investigate this thing a little, don't you think, Elmer?"

"I think so a heap," replied the young scout leader; "because that last grunt didn't have a piggy sound at all to me, and I give it to you straight."

"Then what do you reckon it was?" demanded Lil Artha, with added interest.

"More like a groan," remarked Elmer, starting on again.

"A groan—you mean a real human groan?" exclaimed the tall boy. "Say, now, that would mean somebody might be hurt over there."

"Then the sooner we find out the better." Elmer answered over his shoulder.

They had little difficulty in tracing the course of the sounds. And the further they advanced to the left of the path the louder the singular combination of sighs, groans, and grunts became.

"I know this place, all right," whispered Lil Artha, presently. "I've been here more'n a few times, Elmer. There's the queerest hill just beyond you ever saw. It's got one face shaved off just like it had been split, and half of it carried away. Us boys call it Echo Cliff. I've been up on it lots of times. Gee, it's sure a jump down to the tree tops below!"

"Yes," Elmer remarked, "I remember hearing about it now, though I've never been up on it, Perhaps some poor fellow has tumbled over the edge, and is lying with broken bones among the trees."

"Ugh, you give me a cold shiver!" Lil Artha said. "But p'raps he didn't fall all the way down, Elmer, because, seems to me those awful sounds come right out of the air up yonder."

"That's just what they do," muttered the other boy, in a puzzled tone; "but come on, and we'll soon find out the worst."

Resolutely he led the way and Lil Artha followed. No matter what dreadful thing might suddenly meet their sight, Elmer would not be deterred now.

"Listen!" whispered Lil Artha, as he gripped the shoulder of his comrade; "he's talking to himself, Elmer. Where under the sun d'ye suppose he can be? It don't stand to reason that he's up on the top of Echo Cliff, because that's farther off."

Elmer gave a chuckle, and when he turned his face around his companion saw that he seemed to be shaking with laughter.

"I think I've got on to it, all right!" said Elmer.

"Well, let me in, won't you?" pleaded Lil Artha. "You look like you wanted to burst out laughing, and just didn't dare. If a human life is in danger I don't see what there is funny about it."

"Tell me first, is there an open place just below this Echo Cliff you talk about?" asked the other, in the same low, cautious voice.

"That's just what there is," Lil Artha replied, readily enough. "Many a time I've dropped chunks of rock down, just to see 'em smash on the ground below."

"That settles it, then; he was trying it out," remarked Elmer, nodding.

"Hey, what d'ye mean?" demanded Lil Artha. "Trying what out? And who d'ye think it is? tell me that, Elmer."

"Come here with me; I believe I see him, all right," remarked the other. "Follow my finger now; notice that thing moving up yonder in that little old tree? Now it kicks like all get out. You'd think a fellow had gone up there to take lessons in swimming. Well, that's him!"

"Who?" demanded the other, imperatively.

"A fellow by the name of Tobias Ellsworth Jones, known among the boys by the more familiar name of just plain Toby," chuckled Elmer.

"Wow, now I'm beginning to get on, Elmer!" exclaimed the tall boy, excitedly.

"You remember Toby is just crazy to fly like the Wrights and all the other bird men who sail through the air in their aeroplanes?"

"Sure he is," commented Lil Artha; "haven't I heard him tell about what wonderful things he was goin' to do some day, to make the name of Jones famous? Say, honest, now, I believe you've hit her right, Elmer. Toby has been trying it out! And that big flapping thing up yonder in the tree top must be his wonderful parachute he's been talking about this long while. Say, I believe the silly must have dropped off Echo Cliff!"

"That's what he did," remarked Elmer, "and instead of lighting in that nice little open place, as he meant to, the wind just carried him into the top of a tree!"

"And he's caught up there right now—caught by his trousers seat mebbe, and kicking to beat the band. I don't wonder he grunts and groans and talks to himself. Now what d'ye think of that for a loon? Why, he might have broken his leg if he had fallen on those stones! What're we going to do about it, Elmer?"

As usual Lil Artha was only too willing to have his companion take the lead in suggesting action. Some boys seem to be just fitted to occupy the position of guide, and their mates soon come to rely on them exclusively. Elmer occupied that position, and so Lil Artha looked to him in this emergency.

"Why, we've got to get him down out of there, that's flat," returned Elmer. "He's our comrade; and scouts must always help their fellows, or anybody else, for that matter, when in distress. Let's move on a little farther and give him the high sign."

All this talking had been carried on in such low tones that the sound of their voices could hardly have reached the ears of the ambitious aviator, who was caught in the tree, fully thirty feet from the ground, unable to break away, and confronted by a nasty drop if he did succeed in separating his garments from the branch that had gripped him.

They could now see that what Elmer had suggested was indeed the truth. A boy was flapping at a great rate, his arms and legs going at the same time, as he tried his best to squirm around so as to get at the seat of the trouble, but apparently without success.

After each tiresome struggle he would give vent to a new series of those queer grunts and sighs, and then do some more talking to himself.

Above him, and just barely caught on the tree top, was a strange affair that had somewhat the appearance of a big umbrella, made out of canvas or muslin. A number of holes had been punched through the parachute by its descent through the branches, so that taken altogether, the brave would-be aviator and his apparatus seemed just then to be in a state of collapse.

Elmer waited until the squirming had ceased, with one last groan as of despair. Then he gave the signal of the Wolf Patrol, as only one who had actually heard the long-drawn howl of the timber wolf in the darkness of a Canadian Northwest night could imitate it.

Evidently the sound stirred Toby to new life, for his movements began again. He tried to make an answering signal, but the sound was more like the bleat of a lost calf than anything else. However, it answered its purpose, which was to let the comrade below, who had come to the rescue, understand that his presence was known.

"Hello! up there, what are you doing to that tree?" called Lil Artha, who could not keep from trying to extract some fun out of the situation for all its gravity.

"Better ask the tree what it's adoin' to me!" wailed Toby, who had managed to whip himself around so that he could now catch a glimpse of the boys below. "Hey, Elmer, and you, Lil Artha, get me down out of this first and have your fun afterward! I'm as dizzy as an owl in daytime, and if my pants give way I'm going to squash flat! Come up here and grab me, can't you? Tell you all about it later on. What I want now is sympathy and brotherly kindness, don't you see?"

CHAPTER VI.

"He's right," said Elmer, energetically, as he prepared to climb the particular tree that bore such strange fruit. "Toby's hung there so long that all the blood's just going to his head. Come along, Lil Artha; drop that pack and follow me up there. We can rescue him, all right, if we're smart."

They went up among the branches like a couple of monkeys, both being good climbers. And presently they were close to where poor Toby was dangling, watching their movements feverishly. His face was very red, and he did not look very comfortable as he swung there, without any hold above or below.

Lil Artha was immediately reminded of the stirring piece which he had himself recited in school more than once—about the captain's little boy on board a ship in a harbor, who daringly climbed to the very top of the mainmast and stood up on the main truck—"no hold had he above, below; no aid could reach him there!"

In that case the captain had shouted to the boy to jump far out, so that he might strike the water, and they would pick him up, which in the end the little fellow did, and was saved; but the same advice would not apply with regard to poor Toby, for he could not jump no matter how much he wished to, and it was hard ground below and not soft water.

But Elmer sized the situation up as soon as he arrived. He saw that by good luck the branch that held Toby up was a solid one, and would bear considerable weight, so that it was safe to crawl out on it.

"I'll go and get within reach of him," he said, quickly. "You brace yourself, and be ready to pull him in when he drops. And Toby, make a grab for that branch just below when you feel yourself going, understand?"

"Yes," groaned the other, "I guess I can make it all right, Elmer. But say, what you goin' to do now?" as he saw the other taking out his pocket knife, opening the largest blade, and then gripping the tool between his teeth so that he might have the free use of both hands.

"I've got to cut you loose, you know; don't worry, Toby," replied the other, with such assurance in his steady voice that he unconsciously gave the dangling boy new courage. "We're going to bring you down; only try to help yourself by getting hold of that branch, see?"

"I will, Elmer, you just bet I will!" Toby answered.

A minute later and Elmer was bending down above Toby. He had to brace himself against a sudden shock, for he knew what the result must be, once Toby's weight was cast loose so that the limb could spring back.

"Ready everybody?" Elmer sang out.

"Sure!" answered Lil Artha, taking a new clutch on the garments of Toby, with one of his legs twined about the tree trunk so as to better hold his own when the shock came.

"Ready, Elmer; let her go!" said Toby, weakly but gamely.

Fortunately that knife blade was as keen as a razor. Elmer always made it a point to keep his knife in the best condition possible at all times, and this was one of the occasions where he felt amply repaid for his foresight.

One circular sweep, and the thing was done.

Toby dropped like a plummet. His hands were outstretched and, as he had planned, he gripped the branch just below; but had it depended wholly on Toby's ability to maintain his hold, he must have gone plunging down, banging against the various projections until he finally brought up on the ground, lucky if he escaped broken ribs or collar bone.

But Lil Artha was there like a young Gibraltar. He could not be moved, since his left leg was twined around the tree trunk. So he swung Toby inward and gave him a chance to get his breath, while Elmer was hurrying down to assist.

Between them they managed to right Toby, who was soon panting as he squatted in a friendly fork of the tree.

"Now let's get down to the ground," said Elmer, who did not seem to think that he had done anything very much out of the common in rescuing the ambitious would-be aviator.

"Oh, Elmer, just wait a minute!" exclaimed Toby, entreatingly.

"What ails you now?" demanded Lil Artha. "Can't you get your nerve back yet? Say, we'll give you a hand down, Toby, all right. Just depend on your fellow scouts."

"It ain't that, Lil Artha," declared Toby; "but while you're about it, why won't you make a clean sweep of the thing, a double rescue so to speak?"

"Well, now, did you ever hear the beat of that?" laughed the tall boy. "He wants us to risk our precious lives cutting his old umbrella machine loose above there, so he can just take chances again. That's nervy, all right."

"But Lil Artha," continued the other, persuasively, laying a hand on the sleeve of the tall scout, "don't you see that it's only held slightly? If you could cut that rope, and break that small branch off, I believe the whole outfit would have to fall to the ground. Elmer, ain't that so?"

Of course Elmer was compelled to admit the fact, for the parachute was only lightly held, after its adventurous passage through the tree tops. So Lil Artha, grumbling somewhat, though obliging, proceeded forthwith to climb farther aloft until he could use his knife on the cord that seemed to be helping to retard the downward progress of the parachute.

"Now break that branch, and she's just bound to drop, Lil Artha!" cried Toby, who was keenly alive to the fate of his beloved airship. "There she goes, fellows! What did I tell you? Whoop! Sailed down as soft as a thistle ball! That's the ticket. Bully boy, Lil Artha! I will never forget this of both of you. Some day mebbe I'll have a chance to take you up with me in my balloon!"

"Nixy, never, not me!" declared the tall boy, as he came scrambling down from his elevated perch. "The ground's good enough for this chicken. If I ever dropped from this height, whatever would happen to my bones, tell me that? Now, let's see if you can climb down, Toby."

Toby proved to be all right again, now that he had regained an upright position, and the blood ceased to gather in his head. He made a decent job of it, dropping down the tree. Lil Artha kept close beside him, to guard against any accident, for, as he said, he "didn't want to have his work all for nothing, and let Toby get a broken leg after he had once been safely rescued."

They all arrived on the ground under the tree about the same time. Toby's first thought seemed to be in connection with his beloved parachute, and, of course, he started for the spot where the broken umbrella-like apparatus lay, upside down; as Lil Artha declared, "for all the world like a duck that, being shot in the air, had fallen on its back."

Hardly had the unfortunate Toby taken half a dozen steps away than Lil Artha suddenly burst out into shrieks of laughter that caused the other to whirl around in his tracks and look at him in astonishment.

"What ails you, now, I'd just like to know, Lil Artha?" he demanded. "You sure act like you'd gone bug-house. Say, Elmer, is he crazy, or can it be the reaction set in after his daring feat in grabbing me?"

"Turn around!" yelled Lil Artha. "Let Elmer see the air hole he made. Oh, my! Oh, me! but don't you feel cold? Ain't you afraid of a draught, Toby?"

Toby apparently suddenly began to understand, and as his hand went back of him a grin broke over his face.

"Oh, murder!" he ejaculated, "he cut out the whole seat, and these are my newest trousers, too! Won't I get it, though, when mom sees what's happened? And I don't dare tell her how it was done, because she wouldn't let me keep on studying about aeroplanes and such. Whatever am I going to do now!"

"I'd advise you to get an awning before you show yourself in town," jeered Lil Artha. "If any of the scouts see you, Toby, they'll sure think you're flying a flag of truce. But don't you blame Elmer for your troubles, hear? He did the only thing there was open to him. And if he hadn't happened to have that sharp knife along, you might be hanging up there yet and for some time to come; get that?"

"Sure, and I'm making no kick," replied Toby, with a grimace. "Reckon I pulled out of a bad scrape lucky enough. Wow! Thought at one time my goose was cooked! But it's all right now, it's all right, boys!"

"Yes," sang Lil Artha, "everything is lovely, and the goose hangs high, or he did up to the time his chums happened along and yanked him down. But it was a good thing for you, Toby, Elmer here happened to be sent over to Mr. Bailey's house, and concluded to take the short cut through the woods."

"Well," remarked Toby, philosophically, and boy fashion, "I always heard it was better to be born lucky than rich, and now I believe it."

"Come along, Lil Artha," said Elmer; "we've got business on hand, you remember, and can't waste any more time here. But I hope Toby won't think of trying to drop down from the top of Echo Cliff again."

"Not if he knows it," returned the other, whose face was scratched in several places from contact with twigs during his crash into the tree. "Next time I try out any of my inventions I'll make sure to pick a place where there ain't any plagued trees. Perhaps I might try a jump from the old church tower some fine day. That would make the people of sleepy old Hickory Ridge stare some, hey?"

"I sure think it would," returned Lil Artha, as he stepped off after Elmer; "and your folks in particular. I see you're in for a heap of trouble, Toby, with these fool notions of yours. It'll be a good thing if you get cured before you're killed."

"That's a fact," called out Toby, with one of his grins; "because it wouldn't be much use after that same thing happened, hey?"

Elmer was chuckling as he walked along.

"Never will forget how Toby looked as he kicked, and pawed, and tried to get hold of something," he remarked to his companion.

"Same here, Elmer," replied the other, shaking with merriment.

"But all the same it was a ticklish thing for Toby, and what you might call a close shave," declared Elmer, thoughtfully.

"Whew, I wouldn't like to take the chances of a thirty-foot drop like that, if the branch broke or his trousers tore!" Lil Artha remarked. "And after all Toby ought to be thankful that they were new goods and not rotten stuff."

"Think of his nerve in jumping off that high cliff," said Elmer, shaking his head, as though the idea appalled him. "That fellow is getting too daring. I wouldn't be much surprised if he did try to drop down from the church tower some fine day if this thing isn't nipped in the bud."

"Then perhaps we ought to tell, Elmer?" suggested Lil Artha.

"You mean, let his folks know about the narrow call he had here to-day?"

"Yep. Seems to me it's kind of our duty to inform his dad. Another time, perhaps, Toby won't be just so lucky. And Elmer, if he got smashed or had his legs broken, you and me would feel like we was guilty, ain't that so?"

"I'll think it over, Lil Artha," replied the other. "I hate to tell on a chum, but this is something out of the ordinary. It may mean Toby's life, for all we can tell. And on the whole I think his folks ought to know."

"He won't blab on himself, that's dead sure," remarked the tall scout.

"Sounded like he didn't mean to, for a fact," Elmer continued.

"Tell you what, I'd have given a heap to have been around just then, Elmer."

"You mean when he took the jump? It must have been a bit thrilling for a fellow to deliberately drop off such a high place. But Toby's got the nerve, only sometimes it seems to me he's reckless. And that's a bad thing in anyone who wants to sail around through the air regions."

They went on exchanging opinions, and in due time arrived at the Bailey house, where Elmer delivered his charge to the owner of the big woods.

On the way back they neither saw nor heard anything of Toby, though they could easily imagine him hard at work trying to get his broken parachute in shape, so that it might be transported back to town, and fixed up for another exploit.

It would not be in boy nature to keep such a remarkable story secret, and before night it had likely traveled from one end of Hickory Ridge to the other in about a dozen different shapes. Some even had it that Toby had flown a mile before being caught in a tree, while others had him a wreck, with all the doctors in town trying to patch him up. But Elmer went straight to Mr. Jones, and gave him the true version, so that he might not be alarmed at anything he heard.

CHAPTER VII.

When Lil Artha showed up on the field that afternoon, clad in his old baseball suit that showed the wear and tear of many a battle, he had his camera slung over his shoulder with a strap.

"Want to take the nine in action?" asked Elmer, as he noted this fact, and paused in his delivery of the ball to the catcher, Mark Cummings.

"Oh, I might, if the signs were right, and they showed that they deserved all that sort of attention," replied the tall scout, "but I've made up my mind about one thing, Elmer."

"What might that be?" asked the other, smiling at his friend's seriousness.

"I'm going to carry this little box around with me day and night, that's what. Just the time you want it most you haven't got it along," declared Lil Artha, with a look of sheer disgust.

"Well, I always heard that a fellow could see all sorts of game when he didn't happen to have a gun," laughed Elmer; "and I suppose the same thing goes with a camera. But I can guess what's ailing you now, my boy."

"Of course you can," grinned the other. "Say, just think what it would mean to you and me if we only had a picture of Toby Jones kicking the air up in that old tree, and learning to swim! Wow, no chance of us ever getting the blues while we had that to look at! It would have been the funniest ever. And to think it's all lost to us, just because I was silly enough to leave my box at home. Shucks!"

"Don't suppose Toby would pose it over again, do you?" suggested Larry Billings, who was passing a ball with Matty Eggleston, the leader of the Beaver Patrol, and one of the reliables in the nine.

"Well, hardly," Lil Artha replied. "I reckon Toby got enough of hanging that time to last him right along. Is he here this afternoon?"

"Sure he is, and as chipper as ever. Only grins when anybody tries to josh him about flying. Nothing ever feases that feller. He comes up again after every knockdown, as fresh as a daisy. Says he's going to give the old town a sensation some day before long. And he means it, too," remarked one of the other boys near by.

Elmer and Lil Artha exchanged meaning glances, and presently the latter managed to whisper to his companion of the morning:

"Did you do it, Elmer?"

"I asked my father what I ought to do, and he sent me over to tell Mr. Jones the whole story, because all sorts of yarns were going around, and he said Toby's mother might hear something awful had happened, and be frightened."

"And what did Mr. Jones say?" continued Lil Artha.

"He laughed a little," replied Elmer, then looked serious like. "I rather expect he'll put a crimp in Toby's flying business after this, though up to now he's rather encouraged the boy, thinking it was smart in him. Now he sees the danger. But get out in the field, and throw in a few from first, old fellow."

The scene was an animated one, with boys in uniform and without, banging out high flies, passing balls, and exercising generally. It really seemed as though every one in the town who could get off must be there that afternoon to see how the Hickory Ridge team gave promise of playing when up against the strong Fairfield nine.

Girls had come down in flocks, and not a few men were present, among whom Elmer noticed his old friend, Colonel Hitchins.

This fact caused him to remember something, and the sight of his catcher, Mark Cummings, fitted right in with his thoughts. Apparently Mark had also noticed the presence of the Colonel, for after throwing up his hand as a signal that he had had enough of practice for the time being, he advanced toward Elmer, and was presently speaking in a low tone to him.

"See who's here, Elmer?" he asked.

"Well, I notice a lot of mighty pretty girls for one thing," smiled the other.

"You know I don't mean them, or any particular girl," replied the catcher, who was a singularly modest lad as well as a handsome one. "Over yonder in that bunch—the old colonel!"

"Oh, yes, I noticed him a bit ago," remarked Elmer. "But that isn't surprising. He's always taken a heap of interest in boys' sports, and used to play baseball many years ago, he says, when it was a new game. He told me he was in a nine that played the old Cincinnati Reds the first year they ever had a league. And that was a long time ago, Mark."

"You're right, it was, Elmer; but when I saw the colonel it reminded me that so far I haven't done anything about finding out how that lost cap of mine happened to be picked up under his peach trees, when I dropped it a mile away, over on the bank of the Sunflower."

"I heard that two men had been arrested, charged with stealing those peaches," Elmer remarked.

"Yes, that's so, for they were silly enough to sell the fruit to Phil Dongari, the man who keeps the biggest fruit store in town. Colonel Hitchins could tell his prize peaches anywhere, so he went and bought them back again; and getting a line on the men, had them put in the town cooler, where they are yet."

"Just so, Mark; that's ancient history," smiled Elmer; "but as you say it doesn't do the first thing along the line of explaining how your cap got under those same trees, does it?"

"But, Elmer, I'm relying on you to get a move on and find out something before the trail gets cold," argued Mark.

"That sounds pretty fine, my boy," observed Elmer; "but what makes you believe I can do anything to help out? You've got all the advantages I have."

"That's so," admitted Mark; "only I'm a greenhorn about following a trail, and you know heaps. Besides, something in your manner seems to tell me you've already got a hunch on about this thing."

"Oh, that's the way you look at it, eh?" mocked Elmer.

"Yes, I haven't been going with you all this time not to know how to read your face and actions," replied Mark, boldly. "And it's my honest opinion right now that if you chose you could put your finger on the culprit."

"Thank you for your confidence, my boy; but I'm not quite so dead sure as you make out," returned Elmer.

"But you think you know?" protested Mark.

"I believe I've got a good clew; I admit that, Mark."

"Were you over there again?" demanded the other.

"Now you're referring to where you lost your old cap, I take it?" Elmer said in a noncommittal way.

"That's just what I mean—over on the bank of the Sunflower, where Lil Artha began kidding me, and in consequence my cap fell off. You rode over on your wheel, didn't you, Elmer?"

"Well, yes, I did," the other admitted; "but not like you, to look for the cap, because at the time I went I happened to know it had been found, and you had it at home."

"Then why should you bother going all that way over a rough path? Hold on, let me change that question, because I see why you wanted to look over the ground. Did you find anything there to tell you who picked that cap up?" and Mark looked directly in the face of his chum.

"If I did you needn't expect that I'm going to tell you about it till I'm good and ready," laughed Elmer. "And that will be inside of twenty-four hours, perhaps. This is Saturday, and by Monday night I hope I'll be in a position to show you something interesting. Just bottle up till then, my boy. And now there's the scrub team going out, so we have lost the toss and must take our first turn at bat."

Mark knew that it would be useless trying to urge his chum to relent. Elmer no doubt had some good reason for holding off longer. So, although he was very anxious to learn the solution of the mystery connected with his cap, Mark put the matter out of his mind for the time being and prepared to play ball.

The game was, as before, hotly contested.

Johnny Kline, as captain of the scrub, bent every energy to beating the regulars, and pitched as he had never done before. But Elmer was also in fine fettle on this bright Saturday afternoon. His speed was better than ever; and when in pinches he floated the ball up in one of those tantalizing drops, he had the heaviest slugger guessing and beating the air in a vain attempt to connect.

The crowd numbered several hundreds, and they were as ready to applaud any clever work on the part of the scrub players as Lil Artha's team. And with such a host of pretty high-school girls present every fellow strove to do his best in order to merit the hand clapping that followed every bit of fine play.

For five innings the score stood at nothing to nothing. Elmer was equal to each and every crisis, and somehow the boys back of him did not seem able to solve the puzzling delivery of Johnny Kline any better than the scrub team did that of the scout pitcher.

In the sixth there came a break. Lil Artha led off with a rousing two bagger, and the next man up, who happened to be Chatz Maxfield, sent him to third with a clever sacrifice, for which he was noted.

Then along came Red, who was equal to the emergency, and whipped out a tremendous fly which the fielder caught handsomely, but tumbled all over himself in so doing; and of course the long-legged first baseman had no difficulty in getting home before the ball could be returned to the diamond. Indeed, Lil Artha was such a remarkable runner that once he got his base his club counted on a tally three times out of four.

That broke the ice, and in the innings that followed the boys took sweet revenge on Johnny's benders, smashing them to all parts of the field until the spectators were roaring with laughter and a halt had to be called to let the overworked fellow in center come in to get a reviving drink of water.

The result of the game was a score of eleven to two, and neither of these runs for the scrub were earned, but presented to them on errors in the field.

"It looks good to me," remarked Red Huggins, as he and several others of the scouts plodded homeward after the conclusion of the game. "If we can do as clever work on Monday as we did this afternoon, those Fairfield giants won't have a show for their money."

"And that's what we're going to do, just you make your mind up to it," declared Lil Artha. "And to think what a great catch our Toby made when he had to run and jump into the air for that liner. Shows he's all to the good, no matter if he did get such a bounce this morning. We'd miss him if he took a notion to fly away between now and Monday p.m.," and the speaker cast a side glance toward the right fielder, who was limping along, talking over the game with Ty Collins.

"Oh, there are several good fellows just waiting for a chance to break in!" declared Red; "Larry Billings, for instance, who can hit 'em some; Jack Armitage, who is nearly as swift as Lil Artha on the bases; and George Robbins, who knows how to rattle a pitcher to beat the band. I guess we don't need to worry, since we've got plenty of good material handy in case of accidents."

"But Toby isn't going to fail us," asserted Elmer. "He's too good a scout not to know his duty in this crisis. For we've just got to beat that Fairfield crowd this time, or we'll never hear the end of it."

"Don't worry, fellows; if we play like we did to-day we'll have their number, all right. Wait till you see how Elmer teases their heavy batters with that drop of his! There'll be need of a lot of dope after the game, for the arms that swing nearly out of joint swiping the air. Wow, don't I wish to-morrow was Monday, though!" and Lil Artha gave further emphasis to his wrought-up feelings by a certain gesture that was one of his peculiarities.

"I've heard lots of people say Hickory Ridge never had so fast a nine before," remarked Matty.

"Thspare our blushes, pleath!" laughed Ted Burgoyne, who could never conquer that hissing habit that caused him to lisp, though no one ever heard him admit the fact, which he always vigorously denied.

It was a jolly and well-satisfied party of athletes that journeyed back to town from the field where the game was played. Even the members of the badly beaten scrub could not but feel a certain pride in the work of the regulars, and declared that if the boys could only do as well in the game with Fairfield there need be no fear of the result.

And luckily Sunday would come as a day of rest before the match game at Basking Ridge was to take place.

CHAPTER VIII.