The caretaker was not as angry about the Cubs returning the ice cream freezers as Dan had expected him to be. Encouraged, he even dared reveal that the lid to one of the containers was missing.
“Yeah?” Old Terry grunted. “I reckon it can’t be helped. Anyhow, those freezers ain’t been used in years.”
“Seemingly, they intend to go ahead with their court action,” the Cub leader informed the boys. “We’ll have to hire ourselves a lawyer.”
Advance ticket sale for the Friday night basketball had been very large. On the evening of the game, the gymnasium was packed.
“Say, I’ll bet we’ve taken in twenty or thirty dollars at least!” Fred Hatfield excitedly reported to the other Cubs. “This will be a big boost for our treasury.”
Game time was at seven o’clock. Shortly before the hour, Pat Oswald and his four players trotted out on the floor to practice a few baskets.
“Get a load of those suits!” Chips muttered to Dan.
The five players wore new, bright-hued purple sport shirts. By contrast, the Cubs had non-descript shorts and shirts, no two alike.
“And look at that guy shoot baskets,” Chips went on gloomily. “He can’t miss!”
He nodded his head toward Pat, who was winning applause from the crowd by his dead-aim at the basket.