“Oh!” exclaimed Tom. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Sid thought there might be a chance to do some pitching, but he thought better of it.
The Dodville Preparatory School had a good nine and a reputation of putting up a hard game, but Langridge was set on the idea of playing only freshmen against them, and thus it was decided. On the afternoon of the game the team, many supporters and the scrubs and substitutes boarded two trolleys for the trip to the grounds.
It was a jolly crowd, and the way was enlivened by songs and jokes. Tom was in the first car with Sid and some others of his particular chums. Langridge was also there, but he kept rather away from Tom.
Out on the platform with the motorman was an individual with a slouch hat pulled down over his eyes and his coat collar turned up.
“Who’s that, a tramp?” asked Tom as he noticed the man.
“Looks like it,” admitted Sid. “Begging a ride maybe on the strength of this being a special. Well, let him go. If you call attention to him, some of the fellows may make a row and create a rough house. Don’t say anything.”
Tom did not, but he noticed that the tramp appeared to be very friendly to the motorman and talked frequently with him. The electric line to Dodville ran through a stretch of country not thickly populated, and at one point it switched over another trolley road which ran to a distant, thriving village. The boys were so engrossed in their fun, laughing and joking that they paid little attention to matters outside, and the time passed quickly. Holly Cross was giving (by request) an imitation of a well-known vaudeville performer when Sid, who happened to look out of the window, exclaimed:
“Say, fellows, where, for the love of tripe, are we? This isn’t the road to Dodville.”
“Aw, what’s eatin’ you?” demanded Dutch Housenlager. “Could the trolley car go off by itself on a road alone? Answer me that!”