“Boys, I thank you for electing me captain of the club. I am afraid I am not very well qualified for the place, but I will do as well as I can.”
The speaker was a boy of fourteen. He was of medium height for his age, strong and sturdy in build, and with a frank prepossessing countenance, and an open, cordial manner, which made him a general favorite. It was not, however, to his popularity that he owed his election, but to the fact that both at bat and in the field he excelled all the boys, and therefore was the best suited to take the lead.
The boys now proceeded to make choice of a treasurer and secretary. For the first position Tom Pinkerton received a majority of the votes. Though not popular, it was felt that some office was due him.
For secretary, Ike Stanton, who excelled in penmanship, was elected, and thus all the offices were filled.
The boys now crowded around Frank Fowler, with petitions for such places as they desired.
“I hope you will give me a little time before I decide about positions, boys,” Frank said; “I want to consider a little.”
“All right! Take till next week,” said one and another, “and let us have a scrub game this afternoon.”
The boys were in the middle of the sixth inning, when some one called out to Frank Fowler: “Frank, your sister is running across the field. I think she wants you.”
Frank dropped his bat and hastened to meet his sister.
“What’s the matter, Gracie?” he asked in alarm.