“Oh, I guess they’ll find a chap who’ll be fair to both sides,” replied Sam.
“I don’t doubt that. Only thing is, will he know how? I’d rather play with an umpire who knew how to ump and who was ag’in’ me than with one who didn’t know and was as fair as all-get-out. It’s the blundering sort who raise the dickens with a game sometimes.”
“There you are,” said Mr. Gifford. “And let’s start things up as soon after two as possible. We’ve got good material in camp, fellows, and we ought to be able to turn out a corking team. If we had two weeks instead of one we’d do it, too.”
“Well, we’ve been playing steadily all summer,” said Steve, “and it won’t be for lack of practice if we get licked.”
“Let’s not get licked,” said Sam quietly.
“Hm,” said Steve, and, “Oh, all right,” Mr. Gifford laughed. “Just as you say, Sam!”
Five days of hard work, then, for all hands. But enthusiasm was rampant and no one lagged. The journey to Mount Placid, the game, and the hike back had caught the fellows’ fancy, and nothing much else was talked about. As Mr. Gifford had predicted, there were some boys who felt keen disappointment at being left off the teams, but they all tried their best not to show it. “Every fellow for the Camp!” was the slogan. On Monday the First and Second played a full nine-inning game and played it for all they were worth. It was understood that the first selections for the two teams were only tentative and that a player had only to show his right to a position on the First Team to get it. And with this in mind every fellow worked his hardest, either to stay where he was on the First or to secure promotion from the Second. There were a few changes, but not as many as might have been looked for. On the whole, the councillors’ selections for the First Team proved wise ones.
That Monday game was ultimately won by Sam’s team, 13 to 10, and was featured by a lot of hard hitting by both sides and some really fast fielding. Mr. Gifford, in the points for the Second, pitched a fair game and Benson caught him handsomely. But George Porter was on his mettle, too, and had the better of the battle. Sam doubted the wisdom of allowing Porter to pitch the whole of nine innings, but the desire to win that game got the better of his discretion, and, besides, there was no one to take Porter’s place.
On Tuesday there was no real game, but there was a full two hours of the most strenuous batting and fielding and base-running, with every candidate getting a chance. And then, on Tuesday evening, the three councillors got together and picked the team that was to battle for the honour of The Wigwam on Thursday. It was no light task, that, as Mr. Gifford explained later at camp-fire.