“You pay too much attention to Arlington,” declared Dick. “I have found that the fellow who lies about another usually hurts himself the most. Lies, like curses and chickens, come home to roost.”
“That may be the way you look at it, pard; but the galoot who lies about me has to fight or run.”
“It’s useless to fight Arlington. If you whip him it simply makes him worse. Unless he straightens out of his own accord, he will eventually bring about his destruction.”
“Mebbe that’s right, but I can’t look at it just that way. Say, pard, are you going to try to pitch this game against Rivermouth?”
Dick nodded.
“I am going to pitch that game!” he grimly declared.
CHAPTER VIII.
FARDALE WINS!
Never in all her baseball career had Rivermouth been more confident of victory than she was on that gray Saturday when she came to Fardale. Accompanied by a hundred rooters, the players marched from the station to Fardale field.
The cadets were waiting for them, and a crowd of spectators had assembled.
“Here they come!” was the cry, as the visiting team and its supporters were seen marching down the hill.