“Why, you see, I just stooped down, cut my shoe laces, pulled my foot out of my shoe, made a lunge, and grabbed the ball.”
“Remarkable!” breathed Rob. “Cut your shoe laces, did you?”
“Yep.”
“Do you usually carry a knife around in your baseball suit?”
“Oh, no,” confessed Tommy, looking a bit confused. “I didn’t cut my laces with a knife.”
“What did you cut them with, if you don’t mind telling?”
“With a blade of grass, of course,” snorted Tucker.
Merriwell, Buckhart, and Steele laughed, and, after a moment, Claxton joined in.
“That’ll about do for you, Tommy,” said Dick. “Don’t tell us any more such wonderful yarns. We can’t quite digest them.”
New Haven was now left behind, and the car was humming smoothly over the road. The boys had brought along their heavy coats, and, therefore, were quite comfortable, although it was growing cool as the sun sank in the west. A beautiful sunset filled them all with admiration and delight. The ride in that big, easy car was calculated to soothe their overstrained nerves after the excitement of the game.