Dick was standing near the manager when he questioned the station master. That official seemed greatly surprised at the crowd of players and spectators.
"Your special train?" he exclaimed. "Why you countermanded the order for it. The game was off, I understood, so I sent the engine and cars back."
"Sent them back!" cried Dick. "How was that?'
"Why, I had them all here, and the engineer had steam up, waiting for you. About an hour ago one of your students came down here and said Mooretown had cancelled the game, and that you weren't going to play. So, as I didn't want the special standing here in the way of the regular trains, I sent it back to the yard."
"Can we get it again?" asked Hatfield, wondering what had happened.
"Not inside of several hours."
"What sort of a student told you we didn't want it?" asked Dick, excitedly.
"A tall lad, rather stout, and with quite a good color—you know—sort of beefy."
"Porter!" whispered Dick, involuntarily, and several heard him.
"The special has been sent back, we can't get a train in several hours, and we're due at Mooretown at two o'clock," spoke the manager. "They'll claim the game by forfeit if we don't show up, and then——"