Though "The Blade" somehow missed the matter, there were a good many in Gridley who had heard the news by Saturday morning. It traveled especially among the High School boys. More than a dozen of them were at the book store as soon as that place was opened.
"How's Dick?" asked all the callers.
"Doing finely," replied the elder Prescott, cheerily.
"Great! Is he going to pitch this afternoon?"
"Um—-I can't say about that."
"If he can't, Mr. Prescott, that'll be one of Gridley's chances gone over the fence."
Dave was on hand as early as he could be. Dick had already been told of the attempt on his chum the night before.
"You didn't see the fellow well enough to make out who he was?"
Prescott pressed eagerly.
"No," admitted Dave, sadly. "After a few seconds I got over my bewilderment enough to try to give chase. But the dastard had sneaked away, cat-foot. I know who it was, though, even if I didn't see him."
"Tip Scammon?"