“Oh, well, you’re an exceptional case,” said Gordon gently. “When a fellow shows criminal tendencies like yours, Fudge——”
“Yes, writing stories at your age! You ought to be ashamed!” Lanny spoke with deep severity. Fudge only chuckled.
“Some day,” he announced gleefully, “I’m going to write a story and put you fellows all into it. Then you’ll wish you hadn’t been so fresh. The only thing is”—and his voice fell disconsolately—“I don’t suppose, if I told what I know about you, I could get it published!”
“Deal gently with us, Fudge,” begged Dick humbly. “Remember, we used to be friends. I must be getting along, fellows. Coming over to-morrow, Gordie?”
“Yes, I’ll drop around in the morning. We’ve got to get busy and send out some challenges. Who can we get to play with us, Lanny, besides Lesterville and, maybe, Plymouth?”
“I don’t know. I think there are plenty of teams, though, if we can find them.”
“They have a team at Logan,” said Fudge, “but I guess they’re older than we are.”
“What do we care?” asked Gordon. “Logan’s a good way off, though, and I suppose it would cost like the dickens to get there.”
“Make them come over here,” suggested Lanny.
