In front of the hotel stood Tom Fernald, smoking a cigarette. He watched them as they came out, and his eyes surveyed Buckhart keenly. He noted Brad’s pallor and faltering step. He also observed that Dick had hold of Buckhart’s arm.
“All right,” muttered Fernald to himself. “Ripley did the job. He told me he saw Buckhart drinking the glass of water into which the powder had been dropped, but I thought he might be lying. That wild and woolly young Texan is doped for fair. With him in that condition Fairhaven stands no show of winning.”
Not one of the boys gave Fernald a glance. They started down the street, but paused at the first corner, for coming up another street that led to the water front was a large excursion party, headed by Brick McLane, of Fairhaven, who shouted at them and waved his hand.
“Here we are!” cried the husky lobsterman. “Here we are, a hundred and fifty of us right off the island. We’re going to root for our team to-day.”
It was the expected excursion party from Fairhaven, and at least fifty of the excursionists belonged to the fair sex.
Fairhaven had adopted Fardale’s colors, red and black. The girls were bearing tiny red and black banners, while the men and boys had red and black ribbons knotted to the lapels of their coats. The crowd was strung out on the sidewalk until it looked to be nearly twice as large as it really was.
“He! he! he!” snickered Obediah Tubbs. “We’re going ter have some backers to-day, by Jim! Rockford won’t do all the hollering.”
The face of Earl Gardner flushed with pleasure as he discovered Grace Garrett in the party.
Raymond Garrett now appeared, and, directed by him, the Fairhaven team marched toward the ball ground at the head of the excursionists.
“I’ve had a whole section of seats reserved for our crowd,” he explained to Dick. “I’m going to keep them together to-day. We’ll see if Rockford makes all the noise.”