“Do you really think you can do it?” asked Dick.
“Watch me! I’ll run a story to-morrow on the first page that negotiations are under way looking to a deciding game, see? And I’ll hint that there is so much feeling between the two teams that the outcome is doubtful. Then——”
“That’s hardly truthful, is it?” asked Dick.
“Well, maybe I can get around that,” was the untroubled reply. “I’ll say that the folks at the Point are so certain that their team will win that they’re willing to offer any sort of inducement for a third game.”
“You’ve got some imagination,” laughed Gordon.
“Have to have in my business,” replied Mr. Potter with satisfaction. “You trust me to work up the excitement, fellows. Stevens says I can go the limit. We’ll print your score-cards for you, and—that reminds me. How about a band? Ought to have a band there, oughtn’t we?”
“Bands cost a good deal,” Gordon objected.
“What of it? Why, say, we’ll have three or four hundred folks to see that game! We’ll get ’em in from the country and over from Springdale and Corwin and from miles around. It might be a good idea——” Mr. Potter paused and stared into space a moment. Then he nodded vehemently. “That’s the scheme! I’ll get the store-keepers to shut up shop that afternoon. Maybe Toppan will declare a public holiday.”
Mr. Toppan was the Mayor, and the boys stared in amazement.
“Why—why he wouldn’t do that, would he?” gasped Gordon. “Not just for a ball game?”