CHAPTER XXX
BILL’S FALL
When the oculist learned that the glasses he had made for Bill were practically useless, he wanted to try again, and, as there could be no harm in it, and as some good might result, the pitcher consented. But he and his brothers at once began the task of trying to locate Professor Clatter and his friend the astronomer.
And a task it was, for they had nothing by which to go. The Smith boys knew the towns at which the medicine man usually stopped in his travels, and telegrams were sent to the police of each one, asking them to have Mr. Clatter at once get into communication with his former friends. But the answers that came back stated that the professor had not recently been in the town addressed or else had just left.
The time was getting woefully short. Preparations were completed for the final and deciding game of the series, which as far as the pennant went, was a tie between Tuckerton and Westfield.
With the exception of their pitcher Westfield had the best nine in many years, and her rival was equally well provided for. It would be the hottest game of the season, and indications pointed to record-breaking attendance.
“Oh, if I only could pitch!” sighed poor Bill. “It’s the one game of the year.”
“And Miss Morton will be there,” added Cap.
“Yes, hang it all. Oh, I’ve a good notion to get some surgeon to operate on me, and see if he can’t straighten my eyes!”
“No time for that now,” said Pete sadly, for he and his brother, as well as all their friends, sympathized deeply with Bill. “It’s hard luck, old man, but it can’t be helped.”