"I'll get him yet," announced Tom, fiercely. "See here, manager"—he turned toward Lou Mercer—"we play the Goose Hill fellows next Saturday?"
"Correct!"
"If any more boys in the school think Mr. Barry's lot ought to be turned into a corn field they'll change their opinion after that game."
"We'll see," said Owen Lawrence, shaking his head very knowingly.
"What we shall see," supplemented "Crackers."
"I think," mused Benny, "that I'll finish my article on the baseball game. Goodness! Wouldn't it be awful if somebody should tell Mr. Barry what Tom called him—an eccentric old creature?"
Study and practice kept the boys busy for the rest of the week.
The Goose Hill crowd had considerable reputation, although the Stars had won a spirited contest from them by the score of five to three.
Goose Hill was situated on the outskirts of Kingswood, not far from Wolf River. The inhabitants of the Hill, for the most part, worked in the big mills which skirted the river for some distance. They were rough but honest people, living in neat little houses which generally stood in the midst of spacious yards. Many cultivated the ground, or directed their attention to the raising of poultry. The Hill owed its name to the fact that a majority of the bird fanciers chose geese as a means of adding to their incomes.
There were some odd and picturesque corners on the Hill decidedly pleasing to those artistically inclined. Dave Brandon had often wandered about, sketch-book in hand, and, in this way, met Mr. Stephen Kimbole, proprietor of the general store which crowned the elevation.