“It wasn’t his fault,” declared the pitcher. “I ought to have known better than to try to stop it at such close range. It was going like a bullet. I should have passed it.”
“You couldn’t—and be a Smith boy,” exclaimed Cap with a laugh. “We’d take a chance on anything in the shape of a ball, I guess.”
“Well, I’ll go back in a couple of days, and get the reading glasses, and maybe they’ll help some,” decided Bill, as they walked on. They were nearing the college, the many buildings of which could be seen in the distance above the trees, the red tiled roofs making a pretty picture seen through the green foliage.
“Hello, something’s going on!” exclaimed Cap, as they swung into the main road that led up to the grounds. “Look at the crowd.”
“Baseball game?” suggested Bill.
“No, they’re away this side of the diamond. There’s some sort of a wagon there—a Gypsy van, I guess. Maybe some of the fellows are having their fortunes told. Come on, we’ll get in the game, and have some fun.”
“Maybe it’s an ambulance, and some one is hurt.”
“Get out! They don’t have ambulances around here.”
The brothers increased their pace, and as they neared the vehicle something vaguely familiar about it attracted the attention of Bill and Cap. They looked at each other.
“It can’t be him!” exclaimed Bill.