“Conscience hurting you, Dan?”
“No such thing! If Pat and his bunch wrecked that old Christian Church, then it’s only right that they take their medicine. I’m not forgetting that they let the blame fall on the Cubs.”
Brad glanced nervously at the wall clock. “Three more minutes until game time,” he said. “I only hope the Cubs win! It’s terribly important, because if Pat’s team wins, and then everything breaks wide open, they may accuse us of putting the finger on ’em to get even.”
Not only Dan and Brad, but all of the Cubs were exceedingly nervous. This third game in the series was the deciding one. The Den 2 boys did not so much mind losing, but they hoped that they would play their best.
The line-up however, was discouraging. Chips, although out of quarantine, had not been permitted to play. He sat in the audience, beside Mr. Hatfield, looking pale and dejected.
Brad would play center, as always. Red and Midge were assigned as guards, while Dan and Chub were forwards. That left only Fred as substitute, which meant that the Cubs would have to take care not to be put out on personal fouls.
“If we only had Chips in the game, we’d have a chance at least,” Brad confided to his friend. “But Chub—”
“He’s improved a lot this last week,” Dan said loyally. “I’ve been helping him every night after school, teaching him a few tricks. He’s pepped up a great deal.”
“I’ve noticed that,” Brad admitted, turning to look at the younger boy, who even now was practicing baskets. “Do you suppose he could know—”
“About his father? I’ve wondered the same thing, Brad. He hasn’t dropped a word, but the last couple of days he’s seemed on fire. He’s been so jolly and so full of pep. I just hope he’s that way tonight.”