Sid hurried on, his thoughts in a wild tumult. In his pocket was a note from Dr. Churchill, restoring him to all his rights and privileges. Sid had asked for it, lest Boxer Hall protest his entrance into the game at the last minute, for Sid was fully determined to play, and help his team to win. He knew he was in good form, for he had not neglected practice.
“If I can catch the next car,” he thought, “I’ll be in time.” Then, as he caught sight of something yellow through the trees on the banks of Sunny river, along which the electric line extended, he exclaimed:
“There’s a car, now! I’ll have to sprint for it. Glad I didn’t stop to get my suit. I can borrow one from a sub when I get there, I guess.” He broke into a run, but noted, curiously, that the car did not seem to be moving very fast. Then, as he made the turn in the road, he saw that it was standing still, and that a number of the passengers were walking about, idly. “Must have had a fuse blow out, or a hot box, and they’re waiting to cool it,” he mused. “Lucky for me, as the electrics don’t run very often from now on.”
Sid dropped into a walk, and was soon at the stalled car.
“What’s the matter?” asked the second baseman of the motorman, who was sitting on a grassy bank, idly chopping at a stone with his controller handle.
“Power’s off.”
“For long?” asked Sid, his heart thumping under his ribs.
“Hard to say. It’s been off nearly an hour now, and the conductor just telephoned in, and they said it might be an hour more.”
“An hour more! Then I can’t get to Boxer Hall in time for the game.”
The motorman looked quizzically at Sid.