PLAIN TALK
The field was in an uproar. The gleeful supporters of the "Hopes," at this new turn in affairs, roared their approval. And through all the turmoil and confusion the "outlaws" who were not sitting on the bases gathered at advantageous points on the field, apparently ready and anxious to resist any attempt to put them off.
When Bob Somers, followed by the rest of the team, came running over a hostile demonstration broke forth.
"Get off the field!" shouted one.
"We want real ball players!" came from another.
"The school won't stand for your kind of playing!" yelled a third.
The small minority still loyal to the regulars voiced a vociferous protest, and, backing up their words with action, gathered about the players.
"Chase 'em right off the field, boys!" bawled Owen Lawrence.
The bodyguard, fearful that his order might be carried into execution, prepared to meet the emergency with every means at their command.
"This is an outrage!" yelled Harry Spearman. "I protest."
"Keep on protesting—that's all the good it will do you," sneered a partisan of the "Hopes." "We'll show you the kind of stuff we're made of."
"No game to-day unless we play it!" came from Brown.
Bob Somers leaped on the soap box from which the chief "outlaw" had just arisen.
"I call upon every fellow who believes in fair play to listen," he cried in ringing tones. "We haven't been given a square deal. Every player on this nine is going to stand up for his rights. Threats and yells won't make us quit. I only ask you to be reasonable; to——"
The soap box was shoved violently from beneath his feet, and the captain, obliged to jump, brought up violently against a group of yelling "outlaws."
THE SOAP BOX WAS SHOVED VIOLENTLY
Turning like a flash, he looked squarely into the angry face of Owen Lawrence. The lieutenant of "Crackers" Brown, so wrought up with excitement that his face was of a purple hue, was brandishing his fists savagely.
"I did it, Somers!" he yelled. "Pitch right in if you want to. I'm ready!"
In a second the two were surrounded by a densely-packed mob, while cries of "A scrap—a scrap!" had the effect of bringing from all sides large reinforcements.
"We're not going to lose those grounds just to suit your bump of vanity, Somers," howled Lawrence.
A big boy, ruthlessly thrusting aside all who impeded his progress, quickly jumped between the two.
"Cut it out, Owen Lawrence!" cried Earl Roycroft, sternly. He pushed the belligerent student away. "If you don't look out you'll start such a muss that there'll be no stopping it."
"Then they'll have to chase right off the field!" cried Dan Brown, in a voice which no one would have recognized as his. "Are you going, Somers?"
The chief "outlaw's" words promptly undid the effect of Roycroft's action. Surrounded by his opponents, the captain of the regulars speedily found himself being pushed and jostled off the diamond.
At the same instant a combined rush was made for the other members of the team.
Almost swept from their feet by the fierceness of the attack, they struggled valiantly to stem the tide. Above all the frantic shouts and cries, "Crackers" Brown was heard to yell:
"Keep the bases covered, boys! Don't budge from the field!"
"You bet we won't!" shouted Aleck Parks. "Whoop! Shove the Ramblers right along, fellows!"
The fellows were doing it. "In the hands of the enemy" the players were as helpless as chips upon a seething torrent of water. They quickly lost sight of one another, each compelled to fight his battle alone, for the bodyguard which at first had so valiantly attempted to aid them was already widely scattered.
Bob Somers, thoroughly surprised and indignant, appealed vainly for order. Then, feeling that resistance was useless and ill-advised, he allowed the irresistible tide of boys to sweep him where they willed.
"Now, I wonder if you'll listen to the school!" cried Luke Phelps, giving an extra hard shove. "I only hope the 'Ancient Mariner' is seeing this. What's your awful haste, Somers?"
"Well, if we don't play to-day it's a mighty certain thing the 'Hopes' won't," returned Bob, energetically.
"Boys, boys, what is the meaning of all this?"
The familiar tones of President Hopkins' voice, suddenly rising sharp and clear, quelled the tumult around the captain.
"Stop!—I command you to stop this disgraceful scene at once!" he called, sternly.
"They deserve to be suspended!" came in the sonorous voice of Captain Bunderley.
The boys, taken completely by surprise, fell back in dismay before the president.
But the reaction was only momentary.
"Hold the bases and keep on the field!" Dan Brown was yelling with all his force. "Don't let the Ramblers sneak back a yard!"
"Stop, I say; stop!" repeated President Hopkins. His usually good-natured face was glowing with keen indignation. "You are acting most outrageously!"
"They're a lot of good-for-nothing young scamps!" thundered Captain Bunderley.
"Scamps!" screeched Owen Lawrence from a distance of twenty-five feet. "Why, we're only doing this because they need to have some sense beaten into their heads."
"Listen to the bass voice of him!" piped Benny Wilkins, whose necktie and collar had been torn loose and who was trying desperately to make some entries in his big book. "Hurrah for 'Pinky' Crane!"
Professor Ivins, standing by the side of the president, stared at him in amazement.
"What does he mean by such conduct?" he murmured.
Bob Somers, cool and collected, although his face was flushed from his exertions, found himself facing not only the two professors and Captain Bunderley but Mr. Rupert Barry and "Uncle" Steve. And behind these he saw a great body of spectators.
"Uncle" Steve was evidently wildly excited. His expression seemed to indicate an intense desire to join in the fray himself. The strong, angular face of the millionaire exhibited every trace of the greatest astonishment. He stood grasping his knotted stick as though half expecting that the next moment he might be called upon to use it as a means of defense.
"Boys, boys!" His harsh, rasping voice compelled instant attention. "This disgraceful commotion must cease. I want that Brown chap to come right over—do you understand?" He struck the ground vigorously with his cane. "To come right over, I say!"
"He's done all this mischief!" bellowed Captain Bunderley.
"I'll find out mighty quick how such riotous scenes can go on in the midst of a respectable community. What is the name of that other boy, captain?"
"Lawrence."
"Oh, yes—Owen Lawrence. Some of you boys find Lawrence—tell him to come here immediately." Mr. Barry glanced toward Bob Somers. "Did they do any more than hurt your feelings?" he demanded.
"No, sir; not a bit. And they didn't do much of that, either," answered Bob, wiping his perspiring face.
"I see you still have your nerve with you. Where is Roger Steele?"
"Roger Steele!" howled Benny; "Roger Steele; Mr. Barry wants you!"
A movement in the crowd indicated the approach of Brown and Lawrence.
The chief "outlaws" seemed entirely unabashed.
"I believe you sent for me, sir," began "Crackers" Brown, bowing politely to the millionaire.
He braved unflinchingly the hard, cold glare which Mr. Barry turned upon him.
His attitude seemed to irritate the would-be donor of the ball park.
"What have you to say for yourself?" he demanded, harshly. "I know you're the ringleader in all this business."
"Yes, sir; he was the whole show in the circus," chirped Benny Wilkins, who had squeezed his way to the front. "Owen Lawrence was only the clown. He did what the ringmaster told him to do, and then a bit more."
"Be quiet, Wilkins," admonished Professor Ivins, startled into speech. "I'm positively amazed at you."
"Now, Brown, speak up," commanded Mr. Rupert Barry.
"I've just been waiting for a chance," said "Crackers," calmly. "First of all, Mr. Barry, I'd like to ask you a question: when you made the school the offer of a ball park didn't you say positively that only a winning team would secure the prize?"
"I did!"
"Well, the nine first chosen to represent the school doesn't represent it, because it isn't a winning team. Unusual conditions require unusual treatment. The school finally woke up and chose a team that is winning games and does represent it. And certain fellows who think more of their jobs than they do for the good of the school insist upon defying the wishes of the majority."
"Crackers" proceeded to explain matters from the very beginning. He asserted emphatically that none of the boys had the slightest wish to make trouble.
"I'll admit we did go a bit too far to-day. But, when you consider all the circumstances, can you blame us?"
"Yes, we can, and do," spoke up Bob Somers. "But for the spirit of discontent you stirred up among the boys, and their unwillingness to give us a fair show, things by this time would have been mighty different. How can you expect a team to do its best with the school fighting against it? Don't you know that the effect on the players is bad—it puts a tremendous strain on them."
"It certainly does!" exclaimed President Hopkins.
"We've held out against you in this affair, Brown, because every member of the team knew it was only a question of our being given enough time to round into shape."
"There is the whole story," put in Coach Steele. "To have yielded to your demands would have meant an outrageous piece of injustice."
"Indeed!" jeered Brown. "How much more time do you want?"
"We don't want any. The nine has been hard at work every day until I can now safely say the players are in top-notch condition."
"Let 'an eccentric old creature' settle this dispute," said Mr. Barry, with appalling distinctness.
Tom Clifton, who, a moment before, towering over his neighbor's shoulder, was prominently in view, now shifted his position so that his face was no longer in line with Mr. Barry's eagle glare. To his horror, Benny Wilkins burst out laughing.
"Ha, ha, ha!" giggled Benny. "And I know who said it, too."
The tall boy's nerves tingled with apprehension. It was a moment of intense relief when Mr. Barry, paying no heed to the interruption, continued:
"Frankly, I was not satisfied with the team's showing, and I dropped many remarks to that effect during several of the games. It didn't occur to me at the time, but I've learned since that some of them acted upon the boys with extraordinary force." His cold, penetrating gaze shifted from one to another. "I understand your position, Brown; and I understand the position of the regulars, too."
Not a sound came from the crowd as the elderly gentleman, tapping the turf impatiently with his knotted stick, went on:
"Any lot of boys who have the courage and fighting spirit to stick it out in the face of such a confounded row must be made of pretty good stuff. Confidence in oneself is half the battle in life. This is what I have to say: The lads may be able to do what they claim. If they show as much grit and determination in the coming games as they have during the past few weeks they ought to win the championship."
"But suppose they should lose?" broke in Brown, doggedly—"then the school loses, too, doesn't it?"
"We must give them a chance in the inter-scholastic series. If the nine starts off with reasonable evidence of being winners—all right; if they don't"—the millionaire paused—"then we shall talk about the matter further." His voice rose harshly. "Let me add a word of warning: If the work of the team is in any way interfered with, or if there are again such scenes as have taken place here to-day, I withdraw my offer"—the knotted stick struck the ground a violent blow—"remember that!"
The turn of the regulars to applaud had come at last.