“What is it?” demanded the stumbling lad, backing away, for he feared a trick.
“Something to stop up holes in boats,” answered Cap, as he showed a lot of corks.
There was a chorus of laughs for the Smith boys had told the story, and the joke was distinctively on Beantoe and his crony. They slunk away, and Spider had to stand treat for several more sodas before his chum would forgive him for being led into a plot that was so easily turned against themselves. It was some time before they again ventured to play a joke on our heroes.
Meanwhile the baseball season was drawing to a close, and the championship of the county league lay between Vandalia and Freeport. It came to the final game, the play-off of a tie.
“Now fellows,” remarked Cap, one afternoon, as they journeyed toward the diamond in Freeport, where the closing contest was to take place, “we’ve just got to win to-day. It means the pennant for us.”
“And for Vandalia—if we lose,” added Pete, in a low voice.
“But we’re not going to lose, Sawed-off!” exclaimed Bill, as he swung his pitching arm around to limber it up. “Are we, Cap?”
“Not much,” and the tall lad thumped his big mitt. “Don’t let anything get past you to-day, Pete.”
“I won’t. Is Bateye going to play?”
“Yes, but he’s improved a whole lot. My! There’s a big crowd out!” added Cap, as he neared the grounds and saw the great throng on the stands, and scattered about the field.