[CHAPTER VII]
CHESTER IS PUZZLED
Sam was a hero amongst the Boarders for many days. But, as Sam himself said and as most of the fellows agreed, the real hero of the game was Hal Morris, who, with very little preparation and small experience, had held the Towners’ hard batters to a mere half-dozen hits. Poor Morris’s right arm was so lame for days after the contest that he could scarcely use it. But when he could Mr. Shay took him in hand, declaring that he was going to make a pitcher out of him before the season was over.
Of course Sam had to recount the tale of his kidnapping and imprisonment and escape from beginning to end to a circle of interested Boarders before he had been off the field ten minutes that afternoon. They gathered about him in the gymnasium and demanded a full and detailed account.
“Well,” said Dolph, “they certainly had their nerve to try a trick like that! And it would have worked, too, if you hadn’t got back here just when you did. Hal’s arm was getting like a rag.”
“I couldn’t have stood more than one more batter,” said Morris, with conviction, supporting the weary limb with his left hand. “I was never any gladder to see any one than I was to see Sam.”
“Well, we beat them, after all,” sighed Ted. “But I wouldn’t have offered a lead nickel for our chances at the beginning of the ninth inning!”
“I’d have sold out for a penny with a hole in it just before Sam arrived,” said Dolph grimly.