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Title: Tommy Tiptop and his baseball nine
       or, The Boys of Riverdale and their good times

Author: Raymond Stone

Release Date: April 22, 2023 [eBook #70614]

Language: English

Produced by: Bob Taylor, David Edwards and the Online Distributed
             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
             produced from images generously made available by The
             Internet Archive)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS BASEBALL
NINE ***





  Transcriber’s Note
  Italic text displayed as: _italic_




[Illustration: _Will Was Safe on Second Base._

Frontispiece.]




  TOMMY TIPTOP AND
  HIS BASEBALL NINE

  OR THE

  BOYS OF RIVERDALE AND
  THEIR GOOD TIMES

  BY
  RAYMOND STONE

  AUTHOR OF “TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS FOOTBALL ELEVEN,”
  “TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS WINTER SPORTS,” ETC.


  _ILLUSTRATED_


  NEW YORK
  GRAHAM & MATLACK
  PUBLISHERS




BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY RAYMOND STONE

THE TOMMY TIPTOP SERIES

Quarto. 128 pages. Cover in colors

Illustrated. Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid


  TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS BASEBALL NINE; Or, The Boys of Riverdale and
  Their Good Times

  TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS FOOTBALL ELEVEN; Or, A Great Victory and How
  It Was Won

  TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS WINTER SPORTS; Or, Jolly Times on the Ice and
  in Camp

(Other volumes in preparation)


  GRAHAM & MATLACK, Publishers, New York

  COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY
  GRAHAM & MATLACK

  _Tommy Tiptop and His Baseball Nine_




CONTENTS


  CHAPTER                                                         PAGE

     I. TOMMY PLAYS BALL                                             7

    II. TOMMY MOVES AWAY                                            16

   III. TOMMY HAS AN ACCIDENT                                       26

    IV. TOMMY STARTS HIS NINE                                       33

     V. TOMMY MAKES A RUN                                           44

    VI. TOMMY UPSETS A BULL                                         52

   VII. TOMMY GOES SWIMMING                                         61

  VIII. TOMMY EARNS SOME MONEY                                      68

    IX. TOMMY’S NINE PLAYS                                          77

     X. TOMMY GOES FISHING                                          84

    XI. TOMMY IS IN DANGER                                          93

   XII. TOMMY SAVES HIS ENEMY                                      103

  XIII. TOMMY GIVES A SHOW                                         112

   XIV. TOMMY MEETS OLD FRIENDS                                    117

    XV. TOMMY TASTES VICTORY                                       120




Tommy Tiptop and His Baseball Nine




CHAPTER I

TOMMY PLAYS BALL


“I’m going to be up at the bat first!”

“You’re not, Tommy Tiptop! It’s my turn!”

“No, you were up first the last time we played. It’s Sammie Small’s
turn, if it isn’t mine,” and Tommy Tiptop, a sturdy, stout chap of
ten years, looked around at his companions, boys of about his own
age. They had gathered on a vacant lot after school to have a ball
game.

“That’s right!” cried Sammie Small. “I haven’t had a chance to hit
the ball this week. You fellows keep me chasing after the ones you
knock all the while.”

“Well, come on then, if we’re going to play!” exclaimed Tommy, who
always liked to be busy, if not at one thing then at another. And
when he found that it wasn’t his turn to bat he was willing to do
something else. “Come on!” he cried. “I’ll pitch and Sammie can bat.
We haven’t got enough for sides, and——”

“Yes, we have, too!” suddenly cried Horace Wright. “Here come Dan
Danforth and George Squire. That makes five on a side, and we’ll
choose——”

“Who are going to be the captains?” asked Dan, as he and George
hurried up, tossing their books in a pile on the green grass.

“I’ll be one captain!” exclaimed Tommy Tiptop.

“Oh, you always want to be a captain!” sniffed Horace.

“Well then, be it yourself,” agreed Tommy quickly. “Only let’s play.
What’s the good of standing here talking all day?”

“You’re talking as much as the rest of us,” put in Patsie Cook. “I’ll
tell you what we’ll do. We’ll race to the big tree, and the two first
fellows to get there shall be the captains.”

“That’s the way!” came in a chorus from the other lads, and instantly
they set off at top speed for a big maple tree that grew on the edge
of a brook which flowed through the meadow near the school—a meadow
where the small boys used to play ball. The larger lads had a regular
diamond, with canvas bags for bases and a real home plate that didn’t
get lost or kicked aside every time a cow walked through the field.
But Tommy and his friends were satisfied with their way of doing
things.

Away the ten young chaps raced, each eager to be one of the two first
at the tree, and so gain the honor of being one of the captains.

“Come on, Tommy!” called Dan Danforth, looking back to note the
progress of the other lad, for Dan was a year older than our hero and
liked him very much. “Come on, Tommy; don’t let Sammie beat you!”

“I—I won’t!” gasped Tommy, his sturdy legs going back and forth
rapidly. “I—I’m coming!”

“Go on. I’m going to win!” cried Sammie, as with a burst of speed he
got ahead of Tommy. Sammie and Dan were now the two foremost runners,
but the big tree was still some distance away, and Tommy had a
chance, for he was directly behind Sammie. The other boys were strung
out in a long line behind.

“Go on, Tommy! Go on!” yelled some of the boys in the rear. “We want
you for our captain!”

“I’m going to be the captain!” cried Sammie, and he looked back to
see how close Tommy was to him.

And then something happened. Sammie did not see a crooked stick that
was right in his path, and the next moment his toe caught under it.
He tripped and then went sprawling in the soft grass, rolling over
and over.

“Now’s your time, Tommy!” yelled George Squire, who had no chance of
winning. “Go on, Tommy! Leg it! Leg it!”

“That ain’t fair!” cried Sammie, trying to jump up and keep on with
the race.

“Sure it is!” exclaimed Dan. “He didn’t trip you. You did it
yourself. Go on and win, Tommy!”

“I’m going to!” came from Tommy, as he raced on faster than ever. He
was soon at the side of Dan, and a few seconds later both were at the
big tree, while Sammie, picking himself up, came on after them, but
too late to win the race.

“Tommy and Dan are the captains!” cried Patsie Cook. “Take me on your
side, Tommy!”

“I’m going to play on Dan’s side!” exclaimed Sammie, who felt just a
little bit angry at Tommy for having beaten him.

“All right,” answered Dan, good-naturedly, and he was satisfied, for
Sammie was a good player.

And so the choosing of the sides went on, and then the ten lads
hurried back to the middle of the field, where the grass was not so
long, and where you did not have to hunt half an hour to find the
ball after you had batted it.

“Let’s see who has first inning,” suggested Tommy. So he tossed the
bat to Dan, who caught it in one hand, about half way down. Then
Tommy put his hand on top of Dan’s, and Dan did the same thing to
Tommy’s pudgy fist, until the top of the bat was reached, when Tommy,
having the last hold, was entitled to choose first or last inning,
just as he liked.

“He hasn’t got his whole hand on that bat!” exclaimed Sammie, who
wanted his side to have the advantage.

“I have so!” cried Tommy.

“Hit the top of the bat with a brick and you can soon tell,” advised
George Squire.

This was done, and it was found that when the bat was tapped Tommy’s
hand was not touched, so Sammie’s objection did not amount to
anything.

“Take last inning, Tommy,” advised Patsie Cook, “then we’ll have a
better chance to win.”

“I will not!” cried our hero. “I’m going to get our raps in first,
and then if any of the fellows want to quit we won’t get left. We’ll
take first whacks.”

“All right,” agreed Dan. “Now, boys, we’ll see who wins. We’ll only
play two bases, and that will leave one fellow to run after the
balls. I’ll pitch, Sammie can catch, and Pete Johnson can race after
the balls.”

“I will not!” cried Pete. “I want to be on base.”

“Jake Carroll and Harold Mott are going to be on the bases,” declared
the captain.

“Then I won’t play!” came from Pete.

“Yes, you will, too. I’m captain, and what I say goes! You get out
and race after the balls, and maybe I’ll let you catch next inning.”

“Oh, will you? All right!” cried Pete, much pleased.

“Hey, somebody has taken our home plate!” cried Tommy, who, assuming
the right because he was captain, had come to bat first. “That nice
flat stone we had for home is gone.”

“I guess Billy Newhouse took it just to be mean!” exclaimed Dan. “I
saw him walking around here this morning, and he threw something in
the brook. Maybe it was our stone.”

“Oh, get another stone and play ball!” cried Sammie Small. “Do you
want us to stay here all night? I want a chance to bat!”

“All right,” agreed Tommy Tiptop. “Go ahead, I’m ready. This stone
will do,” and he picked up a small flat one and put it down in front
of him, tapping his bat on it to show that the game might begin.

“Pitch him a curve now, Dan! Pitch him a curve!” cried Sammie from
his position as catcher.

“Get out! He can’t curve ’em!” retorted Patsie.

“I can’t, eh? I’ll show you!” cried Dan, and he sent in a swift one.
It came straight for Tommy, who quickly turned his back, and received
the ball on his shoulder.

“Ouch! You did that on purpose, Dan Danforth!” yelled the small
batsman.

“I did not! You got right in the way of it. If you had stood still,
it would have curved right around you.”

“Oh, go on!”

“Take your base, anyhow, Tommy,” advised Patsie. “That’s the rule;
when you’re hit you take your base. I’ll bring you in,” and he
grabbed up the bat that Tommy cast aside as he started for the stone
which marked first base. Tommy rubbed his shoulder as he trotted
along.

“Did I hurt you much?” asked Dan, a little sorry for the way the ball
had slipped. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt much,” replied Tommy. “I don’t mind. Now knock a
good one, Patsie!”

Dan delivered another ball, and Patsie missed it, while the opposite
side yelled with delight.

“That was too high!” said the batter. “I want one there,” and he held
the stick out in front of him to show where he liked the ball to come.

“Here it is!” exclaimed Dan, and he pitched the ball again.

There was a crash of the bat, and the ball went sailing over the
grass.

“Run, Patsie! Run!” his friends advised him.

“Come on in, Tommy! Come on in!” were the other shouts, as Tommy, who
had started for second base, reached it and hesitated about going
“home.” Then he concluded it was safe, and he raced on. But Pete
Johnson had the ball now, and threw it in.

“Look out!” yelled George Squire. “He’ll get you, Tommy!”

Sammie Small stretched out his hands to gather in the ball and put
the runner out at the home plate.

“Slide, Tommy! Slide!” advised Patsie, who had reached second base
and was resting there.

Tommy Tiptop dropped into the dust and slid the rest of the way home,
getting there before the ball did. An instant later Sammie reached
over and touched him on the back, crying:

“Out!”

“I am not!” yelled Tommy, springing to his feet. “I’m safe! I’ll
leave it to Dan.”

“Yes, I guess he’s safe,” slowly admitted the captain of the other
team. “He’s safe enough, Sam. Go on; we’ll get the next one. Who’s
up?”

“George is,” declared Tommy, looking at his clothes, which were
covered with dust. “Gosh! Ma’ll give it to me when I get home,” he
added, as he tried to remove some of the dirt with wisps of grass.

“Take your handkerchief,” advised Ted Melton.

“Huh! And get that all dirt, too?” asked Tommy.

“You can wash that off in the brook.”

“That’s right, so I can,” and Tommy began a vigorous scrubbing of his
clothes with a handkerchief that was already pretty soiled.

“Say, what is this—a ball game or a laundry?” asked Sammie Small. “If
you fellows want to clean your clothes, stand back and let us play
ball. We want our innings out of this game!”

Ted and Tommy moved back out of the way, and the game went on.

“Two out all out, isn’t it?” asked Sammie, as George Squire knocked a
little fly that was caught by Dan.

“Yes, two out all out,” agreed Tommy. “Say, I wish we had enough for
a regular nine,” he went on. “I’d like to play in a match game.”

“You’re too small.”

“I am not. Some day I’m going to get up a regular nine, and have
uniforms, and bases, and a lot of balls, so if we lose one we don’t
have to stop the game. I wish——”

“You’re out!” interrupted Dan, calling to Frank Nixon, who was up at
the bat. “Three strikes and you’re out! Sam caught that last one.”

“That’s only two strikes!”

“It’s three!” repeated Dan.

“I’ll leave it to Tommy!” cried the other. “Was that three strikes,
Tommy?”

“I didn’t see,” our hero was forced to admit. “I was cleaning the
dust off my clothes. But we’ll give it. Come out in the field,
fellows,” he called to his side.

“Huh! That’s a hot way to play,” complained Frank. “It was only two
strikes!”

“Never mind, we got two runs,” consoled Patsie, who had come in when
Sammie missed a ball that the pitcher threw to him.

The game went on for some time, and the boys had much fun and several
disputes, but there was no real quarrel, and they easily forgot their
little differences.

When it came time for the fifth inning, which was the last they were
to play, Dan’s team got one run.

“Two more and we’ll beat!” he called to his friends.

“Don’t let ’em get anything!” advised Patsie.

“I won’t,” declared Tommy, who was pitching, and he kept his word,
for that one run was all Dan’s side got that inning, and Tommy’s team
won the game by seven runs to six.

“Let’s see if we can’t get more fellows here to-morrow, and have a
better game. I wish we had more bats. One isn’t enough. And we need
some more balls. This one is losing the cover,” said Tommy.

“Say, you’ll be a professional if you keep on,” exclaimed Dan,
laughing.

“I’d like to be,” answered Tommy, and then he and the other lads
picked up their books and walked off the field, talking of the fun
they had had.

“Oh, Tommy Tiptop!” exclaimed his sister Nellie, who met her brother
a little later as he was nearing home. “You’ll get it! Look at your
clothes!”

“Does the dirt show much?” asked Tommy, anxiously.

“Oh, it’s awful! Isn’t it, Grace?” and Nellie turned to a girl with
her.

“Couldn’t help it—had to slide home to keep from getting put out,”
murmured the young ball player. “Say, Nellie, do you s’pose ma’ll say
much?”

“No, I guess not; there’s too much going on at home,” answered Nellie.

“What’s going on?” asked Tommy quickly.

“It’s a secret, and I’m not going to tell you,” replied his sister.
“You wouldn’t let me come fishing with you the other day, and I’m not
going to tell.”

“Huh! Girls can’t fish. They’re afraid to put the worms on the hook,”
retorted Tommy. “But I’ll let you come next time I go, if you’ll tell
me the secret.”

“Nope. I haven’t told anybody but Grace, and I’m not going to.”

“Well, I don’t care; keep your old secret, then! I’ll get one of my
own, and, anyhow, ma’ll tell me when I get home,” said Tommy, and
broke into a run to find out what the news was that had caused his
sister to act so strangely.




CHAPTER II

TOMMY MOVES AWAY


“Why, ma, what’s the matter?” cried Tommy, bursting into the house a
little later. “What has happened? Was there a fire?”

Well might he ask, for the house, that was usually in such trim
order, was now in confusion. The chairs were scattered about, and
his mother was up on a step-ladder taking down the pictures from the
wall, while out in the kitchen Mrs. Norah Flannigan, the washerwoman,
was doing up dishes in pieces of newspaper and putting them in
barrels and boxes.

“What’s the matter, ma?” asked Tommy again, pausing in the doorway.

“Nothing, Tommy, dear,” answered his mother. “We are going to move
away, that’s all. Get on your old suit, and you can help. Oh, what
has happened to your clothes?” she added as she looked more closely
at him.

“I slid in the dust, playing ball. But, ma, are we really going to
move away? Where? When? I didn’t hear anything about it before. Is
this the secret Nellie meant?”

“I guess so, dear. Oh, that’s your best school suit, and now I’ve
got to stop and scrub it, and it will never look the same again. Oh,
Tommy!”

“I didn’t mean to, ma,” he answered, tossing his books down on a
chair and looking for a good safe place in which to stand up the
baseball bat. “I just slid. Then I tried to clean the dust off with
bunches of grass and my handkerchief. My handkerchief’s real clean,”
he went on. “I washed it out in the brook.” And he pulled out a limp
and damp rag to show.

“Yes, and then you put it in your pocket all wet; didn’t you, Tommy?”

“I—I guess I did, ma.”

“Oh, what creatures boys are! No, Mrs. Flannigan!” Mrs. Tiptop
suddenly called to the washerwoman, who was packing the dishes,
“don’t put that big platter on top of the small cups. Put the big
dishes on the bottom of the box, and the light ones on top.”

“All right, mum. Sure, movin’ is a terrible thing, isn’t it, mum?”

“Indeed it is, Mrs. Flannigan. Now, Tommy, just slip on your old
clothes and you can help. I wish Nellie was here. I need her.”

“She’s coming—I just met her. But why are we moving, ma, and what’s
the rush?”

“Your papa has a new position in Riverdale, and we are going to live
in a nice large house there. We didn’t expect to go so soon, and I
thought I would have more time to pack, but they want your father
there right away, and so we are going to-morrow.”

“But I didn’t hear anything about it,” insisted Tommy.

“No, we hadn’t quite made up our minds until last night, and we
didn’t expect to move for a week. Then word came this noon that we
would have to be in Riverdale by to-morrow, so your father had to go
out and get some vans for the furniture. I told Nellie about it this
noon, but you rushed off in such a hurry after dinner that I didn’t
get a chance to speak to you.”

“I wanted to play ball,” explained Tommy. “Oh, say, I don’t want to
move, ma!”

“Why not?” and Mrs. Tiptop looked down on Tommy from the step-ladder,
carefully holding a picture she had just taken off the wall. “Why
not, my son?”

“Why, I won’t know any of the fellows there; I’ll have to go to a new
school, and I’ve just started a baseball nine here. Oh, ma, can’t
I stay here? I could board at Patsie Cook’s house. His ma is awful
good, and she makes dandy cake! I don’t want to move.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to go with us, Tommy,” said his mother.
“Come now, help me. You’ll like it in Riverdale, I’m sure, and you’ll
soon get used to the new school. I dare say you’ll find just as nice
boys there as there are here, and you can start a baseball nine
there. Come now, get on your old clothes, and you can wrap newspapers
around these pictures, but don’t break the glass.”

“Oh, dear! I don’t want to move!” exclaimed Tommy, but there was no
help for it.

His sister Nellie came in a little later.

“Pooh! Now I know the secret!” exclaimed Tommy.

“Well, I knew it first,” said the girl, who was two years younger
than her brother, but who sometimes acted as if she thought she was
older.

“You’ve got to help ma,” went on Tommy. “I wonder what it’s like in
Riverdale?”

“It’s nice there. Grace Reynolds has a cousin who lives in Riverdale,
and she’s going to be my friend, and sometimes Grace is coming to see
us.”

“I hope there are lots of fellows there,” said Tommy. “I want to play
ball.”

“That’s all you think of,” retorted Nellie.

“Children, aren’t you coming down to help?” called Mrs. Tiptop from
the foot of the stairs, for brother and sister were in their rooms,
changing their clothes, and calling to one another through the walls.

Once the shock of learning that he was going to move away from
Millton—where he had lived all his life—had passed away, Tommy rather
liked the idea of the change. He felt that it was quite an important
event to move, and he began to plan how he would set about organizing
his baseball nine.

“I guess I’ll call my nine the Riverdale Roarers,” he decided as he
slipped on his old trousers. “If we could get jackets with ‘R. R.’
on, they’d look fine. I’m going to ask ma if I can.”

But when he got downstairs he found his father there, and listened to
what his parents were talking about.

“The moving vans will be here the first thing in the morning,”
explained Mr. Tiptop, “and the man says we needn’t bother to pack
much besides the dishes and the kitchen things. They will attend to
the rest. Hello, Tommy, how will you like it?”

“All right, I guess, pa, if I can play ball.”

“Oh, you can play ball, I think. But now, come on. I want you to help
me nail up some boxes.”

“Then Nellie must wrap paper on the pictures,” decided Mrs. Tiptop.
And from then on there was a busy time in that house.

When the supper hour arrived, considerable packing had been done,
and then, after the meal, they did more, so that by night they were
almost ready for the vans.

Tommy dreamed that he was playing ball inside of one of the big
padded wagons, and that he tried to run around the bases, carrying
a chair in one hand and a big platter in the other. Then someone
shouted:

“Tommy, Tommy! Get up!”

“All right, I’m going to slide for home!” he answered, for he
imagined it was one of his baseball companions shouting to him. Then
he awakened and realized that it was his father calling to him to get
up.

“Hurry!” said Mr. Tiptop. “The vans will soon be here, and we must
get through with breakfast.”

“And no school to-day!” cried Tommy in delight, as he hopped out of
bed.

The confusion, which had started the evening before, was worse now,
for everything seemed upset. Mrs. Tiptop managed to get a simple
breakfast, and then there came a rumbling noise outside the house.

“It’s the vans!” cried Tommy, running to a window. “Hurry! Now for
some fun! Whoop!”

“Now, don’t get in the men’s way,” advised Mr. Tiptop, as he went out
to speak to the movers.

Then began an even more busy time. The men came into the house,
looked over the things to be put in the vans, and began carrying out
the piano and other heavy articles.

“I’m going to help!” cried Tommy, as he seized a chair and started
out with it.

“Tommy! Tommy!” cried his mother. “That’s too heavy for you!”

“No, ma, it isn’t,” he answered, as he thought of how he had often
carried heavy logs when the boys were making a bonfire. “I can manage
it.”

He went out with the chair to the vans, narrowly escaping a collision
with two men carrying a big bureau.

“Look out, youngster,” advised one of the men as they came out of
the van after having put the bureau inside. “You might get stepped
on.”

“By one of the horses?” asked Tommy, anxiously.

“Well, no, not exactly,” replied the man. “I meant by one of us. I
wouldn’t mean to step on you, of course,” he said; “but I’ve got
powerful big feet, an’ when I steps on anything something generally
happens—not always, but generally. Of course I wouldn’t want to step
on you, but I might do it, accidental like,” and the man lifted up
his foot and looked at it as though deciding what he would step on
next. And, truly, it was a very big foot in a very large shoe. Tommy
did not like the appearance of it, and yet the man seemed kind.

“Just don’t get in the way, so’s you’ll get stepped on, youngster,
that’s all I advise you,” went on the man, and Tommy promised that he
would be careful. After that, when he carried out chairs and light
pieces of furniture, he always looked to see if the man with the big
feet was at a safe distance.

The moving men, even the one who was afraid he would step on Tommy,
were good-natured, and they worked well. Nellie was helping her
mother, and Mr. Tiptop was very busy also. Tommy was carrying out a
wash-bench, when several of his boy friends came along the street.

“What’s up?” asked Sammie Small.

“Moving. Going to Riverdale,” replied Tommy, proudly.

“Aren’t you coming to school?” asked Patsie Cook.

“Nope!”

“Say, I wish we were moving,” added Dan Danforth. “Want any help,
Tommy?” he asked, hopefully, thinking this would be an excuse for him
to stay away from school.

“Now, you boys run along,” advised one of the moving men, “or you
might get stepped on,” and once more he looked at his big feet,
raising one after the other slowly, as if to make sure he had not
left any of them in the van by mistake.

“Say, it’s too bad you’re going to move away, Tommy,” spoke Dan.
“Just when the baseball season is starting, too.”

“Oh, I’m going to organize a nine in Riverdale,” said Tommy, as if he
had organized ball teams all his life.

“You are?” cried Patsie.

“Sure!”

“Then maybe we’ll get up a team and play you,” went on Dan. “It isn’t
far to Riverdale.”

“I wish you would,” said Tommy. “It will be great sport. Say, now
I’ve got to help carry out some more chairs. Good-by, fellows, if I
don’t see you again.”

They all called good-by to Tommy and hurried on to school, looking
back regretfully.

At last all the things in the house had been packed in the vans and
the men were ready to drive off with them.

“Everything out?” asked the head mover of Mr. Tiptop.

“I guess so,” he answered. “I’ll take a trolley car, and I think
we’ll be there ahead of you. It’s only about a ten-mile drive to
Riverdale. I’m glad nothing got broken.”

“And I’m glad nobody got stepped on,” said the man with the big feet,
as he looked first at Tommy and then at his own large shoes. “I’m
real glad of that.”

Then Tommy had an idea, as he saw the head mover climbing to the big
seat, high up on the van.

“Can’t I ride with him?” asked Tommy, pointing to the man. “I don’t
want to go in the trolley. It’s no fun. Let me ride on the wagon,
mamma.”

[Illustration: _“Moving; Going to Riverdale,” Replied Tommy,
Proudly._]

“Shall we?” asked Mrs. Tiptop of her husband, doubtfully.

“Oh, I guess it will be all right, if he isn’t a bother.”

“No bother at all,” the head mover assured Mr. Tiptop. The man seemed
to have taken a liking to Tommy. “I’ll look after him,” he went on.
“The drive will do him good, and there’s no hurry. He’ll be safe.”

“And there’s no danger of him getting stepped on up there, either,”
went on the man with the big feet, who seemed to worry about treading
on someone.

“Now for some fun!” cried Tommy as he caught up his ball and bat,
which he had refused to allow to be packed with the other things.
“I’ll see you in Riverdale!” he called to his mother, father and
sister, as the head driver helped him up to the high seat.

And then, holding his ball and bat firmly in his arms, Tommy waved
his hands to those down below. The drivers called to their horses,
the vans rumbled on, and Mr. and Mrs. Tiptop gave one last look
toward the house that had been their home for so many years. Then
they started for the trolley that was to take them to Riverdale.

“Do you play ball?” asked the head driver of Tommy, on the seat
beside him.

“Yes, and I’m going to organize a nine in Riverdale.”

“Good! I’ll come to see you play. I used to like the game myself,”
and the man cracked his whip in the air.

So Tommy Tiptop moved away from Millton, and as he thought of the new
home to which he was going he wondered whether he would have a good
time there, and whether the boys would like baseball as much as he
did.




CHAPTER III

TOMMY HAS AN ACCIDENT


“Now, be careful of yourself, Tommy,” his mother stopped to call to
him as he sat on the high seat of the moving van. “Don’t fall off,
and don’t stop on the road. We’ll be there ahead of you, and I’ll try
and have something ready to eat.”

“All right, mother,” replied Tommy, feeling that he was quite an
important young man now. “I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll look after him,” promised the moving man.

“And nobody will step on him,” added the helper—the one with the big
feet.

Then Tommy was fairly started on his journey, and he looked down from
the high seat, almost wishing that he was a van driver, instead of
going to be merely a baseball player.

“Are you the captain?” asked the moving man, suddenly.

“Captain of what?” asked Tommy.

“Of the baseball nine.”

“No, I haven’t really got it started yet. You see, I don’t know any
of the boys in that place we’re going to, but if I can get up a team,
I may be manager or captain. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh,” said the man, and then he laughed, and Tommy wondered why.

“They’re a good team,” said the man after a while.

“What team?” asked Tommy quickly.

“My horses,” replied the moving man. “They can pull a heavy load.”

“Oh, I thought you were speaking about a ball team,” said Tommy.
“Yes, they’re nice horses.”

Tommy was so busy thinking of the many things that had happened in
the last few hours that he did not feel much like talking. It hardly
seemed possible that it was only a short time ago that he had been
playing ball with his boy friends, and now he was moving away. But it
was true.

The van rumbled along the streets until it came to the open country,
and then it was not so noisy, as the wheels rolled along on the soft
dirt of the roads.

“Will we be there by dinner time?” asked Tommy, who wondered what one
did about meals when it was moving day.

“Oh, yes, we’ll easily be there by noon,” replied the man; “that is,
if we don’t have an accident.”

“What kind of an accident?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, a wheel coming off the van, or a horse falling down, or
something like that.”

“Did you ever have any accidents?” asked Tommy.

“A few,” replied the man. “I was a week once getting a load two
miles.”

“How did it happen?”

“Well, you see, we broke an axle, and we had a van filled with goods.
The man who owned them was in no hurry, so we just left them in the
wagon, jacked the front part up, put on a new axle, and in a week we
started off again. The blacksmith was so busy, he couldn’t make an
axle in less than a week.”

“And did you stay on the van all that while and have nothing to
eat?” asked Tommy, wondering what would happen if an accident like
that should occur now.

“Bless your heart, no! I took the horses to a stable and I went home.
When the axle was fixed, the blacksmith sent word to me, and I came
and finished the moving. I couldn’t go a week without eating, you
know—nobody could.”

“I guess that’s right,” admitted Tommy, and he felt a sort of gnawing
pain in his stomach, as if he was even now getting hungry. And it was
no wonder, for breakfast had been eaten very early that morning.

As the van swayed to and fro over the rather rough road, Tommy had to
hold tightly to the sides of the seat, and with his ball and bat to
look after this was not so easily done.

“You’d have done better to have put them in the van,” said the moving
man, looking at the baseball things.

“They might have got broken,” said Tommy.

“Yes, they might,” admitted the man.

They rode on for some miles. The sun climbed higher and higher in the
sky, and it seemed to be about noon, and still the man did not say
that they were near Riverdale. The other van—for there had been two
of them—was out of sight now, having started off a little in advance
of the one on which our young hero rode.

“What will we do if we don’t get there in time for dinner?” asked
Tommy after a while.

“Oh, we’ll get there,” said the man, confidently.

Just then the wagon went over a rather large stone, gave a lurch and
swayed to one side.

“Look out!” cried the man, pulling on the reins sharply and making a
grab for Tommy. The lad grasped the side of the seat with both hands
to save himself from falling, and to do this he had to let go of his
ball and bat. They both slipped down, and the next instant there was
the sound of splintering wood.

“Whoa!” cried the moving man, sharply. “What’s that? Is something
broken—a wheel?” He pulled in the horses, which had almost stopped of
their own accord.

“It isn’t a wheel,” said Tommy. “It’s my bat. A wheel ran over it,
and it’s broken.”

“What, the wheel?” cried the man. “Don’t tell me the wheel is broken!”

“No, it’s my bat,” answered Tommy, and he spoke sorrowfully, for he
had saved up his spare change for some time to buy that bat, and he
liked it very much.

“Oh, your bat!” exclaimed the man. “That’s too bad! Wait, I’ll get it
for you, and maybe you can mend it.”

“The ball, too,” exclaimed Tommy. “That fell.”

“Yes, I see the ball. That rolled to one side and isn’t hurt a bit.
But that bat—well, maybe you can put some wire on it,” and the moving
man handed the horse reins to Tommy.

“Do you want me to hold them?” asked the boy.

“Sure. They’ll stand steady. Just hold the lines from slipping, and
I’ll get the bat for you.”

Tommy Tiptop felt very proud as he sat there on the high seat,
holding the reins of the four horses, and he looked over the side to
watch the man pick up the ball and bat. The ball was found first, for
that had merely rolled into the dust. Then the man called out:

“Too bad! The bat is broken in three pieces, and it isn’t worth
mending. Never mind. I think I’ve got an old bat at home, and the
next time I’m in Riverdale I’ll bring it to you.”

“Will you, really?” asked Tommy, and he did not feel so sorry now.
The man climbed up to the high seat again, and, taking the reins,
called to the horses. They stepped out slowly, for there was quite
a hill in front of them, and they knew that it would be hard work
getting up it.

“Well, if that’s the only accident we have we’ll be lucky,” remarked
the moving man as he cracked his whip. “This place is a little
farther than I thought it was. I don’t believe we’re going to make it
before one o’clock.”

“Maybe they won’t save any dinner for me,” exclaimed Tommy.

“Oh, I guess they will. If they don’t, you can have some of my lunch.
I have a whole pail full, that my wife put up for me this morning,
and there’s more than I need. Don’t worry.”

They were at the foot of the hill now, and the horses settled
themselves into the collars to pull the heavy van up the slope.

Suddenly there was a cracking sound, and the van gave a lurch. It
settled down on one side, as though one of the wheels had gone into a
hole.

“Look out!” yelled the man. He grabbed Tommy, and only just in time,
or our hero would have fallen off. But Tommy had a glimpse of what
had happened.

“It’s the wheel this time!” he cried, as the horses came to a stop.

“What about it?” asked the man, as he got ready to go down.

“It came off, and it rolled over in the bushes. It isn’t broken, but
it came off.”

“Just my luck!” cried the man. “Talk about accidents, and they’re
sure to happen. The nut came loose, and the wheel rolled off. Is the
axle broken? I mean the black piece of iron sticking out, that the
wheel goes on. Is that broken?”

“No,” reported Tommy, taking another look. “That’s all right.”

“Then it isn’t so bad, if I can find the nut that holds the wheel on.
We’ll have to look for it. Wait now, I’ll help you get down.”

It was not easy to get off the high seat of the van, all tilted to
one side as it was, but they managed it.

“Now, we’ll see if we can find the nut,” suggested the moving man,
when he had looked at the axle and made sure that it was not broken.
It had dug itself away down into the dirt of the road, though.

So Tommy and the man looked all around for the nut, but they could
not find it. It had probably come off some time before the accident
happened, and was lying far back in the road.

“I ought to have an extra nut,” went on the man, as he poked about in
the dust and bushes with a stick. “Now I’m in a pretty pickle!”

“Why, can’t we go on to Riverdale?” asked Tommy.

“No, not a step. I’ve got to go to the nearest blacksmith shop and
get a nut. We’ll have to give the horses their dinners, and let them
stay here in the shade,” and the man went over and began unhitching
the animals. Tommy noticed that there were nose-bags filled with hay
and oats on the back of the van.

“The horses will have a good dinner and a rest,” said the moving man.

“Yes,” replied Tommy, slowly, “but what about you and me? I—I’m
afraid I’m hungry!”

“Shouldn’t blame you a bit,” replied the moving man. “I am myself.
But don’t worry. I’ve got a big pail full of lunch, and we’ll have a
regular picnic here—you and I—and then, after we eat, I’ll go see if
I can find a blacksmith shop and get a nut.”

After putting the nose-bags on the horses’ heads and tying the
animals to a fence, in the shade of a big tree, the moving man got
out a big tin dinner pail from under the van seat.

“Now we’ll have a fine meal,” he exclaimed. “My wife always puts
me up a big lunch when I take moving loads out into the country. I
know there are sandwiches and pie, and I’m pretty sure there are
cookies. And in the top part of the pail there is, most likely, some
rich milk. Oh, but we’ll have a fine dinner, even if we did have an
accident!”

So he opened the pail. Suddenly he looked into it, as though
something was the matter. Then he poked his fingers down inside the
tin.

“Why—what—what’s the matter?” asked Tommy in wonder.

“Matter!” exclaimed the man. “Matter! Everything is the matter! There
isn’t a bit of lunch in the pail! Not a _crumb_! I must have taken
the wrong pail this morning, for I have two. We haven’t a thing to
eat, Tommy Tiptop! Here are only two empty tin cups in the pail, and
my knife and fork wrapped up in a napkin! My! This is too bad!”




CHAPTER IV

TOMMY STARTS HIS NINE


For a few moments Tommy Tiptop just stood there, staring at the
moving man. The moving man looked into the dinner pail again, as if
possibly there might be something hidden in it which he had not at
first seen. Tommy peered over and also looked into the pail.

“It isn’t any use,” said the moving man with a sigh. “There isn’t a
thing here—not a thing.”

“Then we haven’t anything to eat, have we?” asked Tommy, faintly.

“No,” answered the man sadly, as he rattled the two cups in the pail.
“That is, unless you can chew tin. I know I can’t,” he added, with a
sigh.

“Me either,” went on Tommy. Then he looked off across the fields
toward a large, white farmhouse. Next he looked at the horses
standing comfortably in the shade, eating their oats from the bags
that hung on their heads.

“I wish——” began Tommy, and then the moving man interrupted him by
saying:

“I do myself, young man. I wish I was a horse, for they are getting
over being hungry, and I am getting hungrier all the while. Is that
what you were going to say?”

“Well, I was,” admitted Tommy, slowly. “I was just going to say that,
and then I happened to think of something else to say.”

“What?” inquired the moving man. “Has it got anything to do with
something to eat?”

“Yes,” said Tommy, slowly, “it has. I was thinking that perhaps if I
went over to that house,” and he pointed to a white one across the
fields, “I might ask for something to eat. Then you could be looking
for the nut to fasten the wheel on, or you could go to the blacksmith
shop—that is, after I brought you back something to eat.”

“The very thing!” exclaimed the man. “I wonder I didn’t think of that
myself.”

“I could take the empty pail, and the cups,” went on the boy, “and if
they had milk, I could bring some of that with me. I could tell them
I wasn’t a tramp, you know, and, if they didn’t believe me, I could
point to this wagon, and tell them it had some of my father’s things
in it. Then I guess they’d give me some food. Anyhow, I can pay for
it!” he added quickly, “for I have a quarter my mother gave me the
other day.”

“Oh, I guess they won’t want pay,” said the moving man. “Country
folks aren’t generally that way. And I’m sure they wouldn’t take you
for a tramp, even if they didn’t see my moving wagon.”

And that was very true, for Tommy was a very nice appearing boy,
and now, though he did not have on his best suit, and though his
clothes were a trifle dusty from having carried out chairs and other
articles, still he looked very different from a tramp.

“I think it would be a good plan for you to go to the farmhouse,”
went on the moving man, after thinking over the matter. “Please tell
them that you have a _man_ friend, who is very hungry, or otherwise
they might give you only enough for two _boys_, you see, and I can
eat more than a boy can.”

Tommy was sure this was true, for the moving man was big and strong,
and he felt that if the man’s appetite was anything like his own, it
must be very good.

“I’ll be sure to tell them that,” said the baseball-loving boy, and
then he started off across the fields with the empty dinner pail and
the cups.

“I’ll be looking back along the road for the nut of the wheel until
you get back,” the moving man called after him, and Tommy waved his
hand to show that he understood.

It did not take him long to get to the farmhouse. He did not quite
know whether to go to the front or the back door, and he had about
made up his mind that, as he was begging for food, the back door
would be the better place.

“Besides, it’s nearer the kitchen,” thought Tommy.

And then he happened to see a side door, and he decided that perhaps
that would be better. He was just going up the steps when a dog, that
he had not seen before, ran around the corner of the house, barking
loudly.

Now, Tommy knew something about dogs, for he had once had one of his
own, though it was only a puppy. And he remembered that his mother
had often said to him that if a dog should come at him the best plan
was to stand still, and not run, for in that case the dog would
certainly run after him.

So Tommy boldly stood his ground, and then the dog, which had
continued to bark all the while, stood still and looked at him.

“Good boy!” called Tommy, at the same time snapping his fingers.
“Good old boy! What’s the matter now, eh? You don’t look as if you
would bite!”

Then the dog began to wag its tail, and Tommy knew there was no
more danger, for the animal was sniffing in a friendly fashion
at the boy’s legs. He knocked on the door, and it was opened by a
pleasant-faced lady.

“Oh!” she exclaimed at the sight of Tommy. “Did the dog bother you?
Towser, behave yourself! I don’t believe I want to buy anything
to-day,” she went on, looking from the dog to Tommy.

“If you please, I’m not selling anything,” answered our hero. “I
came to ask if I could have something to eat for the moving man and
myself. He is very hungry and so am I, and, if you please, I was to
specially remind you that he was a man, and I’m a boy.”

He held out the empty pail.

“Bless and save us!” exclaimed the lady. “What in the world are you
talking about, and who is the moving man?”

“Oh, I forgot to answer your other question,” said Tommy. “No,
ma’am, the dog didn’t bother me. He made friends. But the moving man
is over there, where you can see the wagon,” and he pointed to it.
“The horses are eating their dinner, but we haven’t any, for the man
picked up the wrong pail by mistake when he came to move us this
morning. We’re going to live in Riverdale, and the wheel came off our
wagon.” And then Tommy told all about the accident, how his bat had
been broken, and how he hoped to start a baseball nine.

“Aren’t you too young to play ball?” asked the lady.

“I’m ten, going on to eleven,” proudly answered Tommy, “and I’ve been
playing ball for nearly two years now. I’m going to be the captain,”
and then, thinking perhaps the lady might have forgotten about the
food, he gently rattled the dinner pail.

“Oh!” she exclaimed with a laugh, “you want something to eat. Come
in.”

Talking while she got out food from the cupboard, and asking
questions about himself and his family, the lady soon had a nice
lunch ready for Tommy to take back with him.

“I think the moving man will have enough, even for his big appetite,”
she said, “and I will put some milk in the top part of the pail. You
can use the cups from which to drink. And, if you can’t find the nut
to hold the wheel on, perhaps there might be one in the barn that
could be used. I know what it is to have your goods delayed, and your
mamma will be worried if you don’t soon get to the new house. Tell
the moving man to look in our barn for a wheel nut.”

“I will,” promised Tommy, and thanked her for her kindness. And,
after he had gotten back to the wagon, and he and his new friend had
eaten the fine lunch which the lady had put in the pail, that is
exactly what the moving man did. He found in the barn a nut that just
fitted the wheel axle, and it is a good thing that he did, for it is
very doubtful if he could have gotten the one that was lost. He also
got a thing called a “jack” from the barn, for he had to have this to
lift up the wagon, so the wheel could be slipped on the axle.

“There, I guess we’re ready to go on now,” said the man as he
tightened the nut. “We’ve only lost about an hour.”

Off they started, and Tommy was very glad, for he was afraid that his
mother would worry. And, had he only known it, Mrs. Tiptop _was_ very
much alarmed when, after she and her husband and daughter had arrived
at the new house, and had waited for some time, Tommy did not come.
The other wagon-load of goods got there, and the driver of it said
he had not seen the vehicle on which Tommy had started to ride to
Riverdale; that is, not since it had started.

“Oh, I’m sure some accident has happened!” exclaimed Mrs. Tiptop.
“Oh, this is dreadful!”

“Don’t worry,” advised her husband. “That was a very heavy load of
goods, and perhaps the horses had to go slowly up the hills. If it
doesn’t come soon, I’ll get a carriage and drive back along the road.
But I’m sure it will come. Now we must see to getting the things put
into the house from the wagon that is here.”

And it wasn’t very long after that before the delayed wagon, with
Tommy up on the high seat, came rumbling along, and there was no
further need of worrying.

“What in the world happened?” called Mrs. Tiptop, and Tommy told her
everything, even to how he had made friends with the barking dog.

“But I’m sorry about my bat,” he added. “I may want to play ball this
afternoon, and I haven’t a bat!”

“I guess you won’t have much chance to play ball this afternoon,”
replied his father with a laugh. “But here, Tommy, is a quarter. You
can go buy a new bat, and don’t get lost, for you don’t know the
streets of this town yet.”

“A quarter bat! That’s fine!” exclaimed the lad. “The one that got
run over was only a fifteen-cent one. Say, now I will have a good
ball team!” And he hurried off to find a store where baseball goods
were kept.

It was when he was going along the street, swinging the bat around in
the air, and wondering how far he could knock a ball with it, that
Tommy saw two boys, of about his own age, walking slowly ahead of him.

“I wonder who they are?” he mused. “I’d like to know them. Maybe they
play ball. School must be out,” he added, as he saw some books slung
in a strap across the shoulder of one boy. “I’m going to speak to
them,” Tommy went on. “I’ll get to know them in school, anyhow, and I
might as well begin now.”

So he hurried along, until he had caught up to the boys, and then he
exclaimed:

“Say, do you play ball?”

“Play ball?” repeated the taller of the two, looking curiously at
Tommy. “Who are you, anyhow?”

“Oh, I’m a new boy. I’ve just moved here. I want to get up a ball
nine. My name is Tommy Tiptop. I just got this new bat. My old one
was run over by the moving wagon. Don’t you fellows want to be on my
nine?”

“Your nine?” asked the other boy, who had very black and snapping
eyes. “Since when have you had a nine?”

“I’m just getting up one,” went on Tommy. “I thought maybe you would
like to join. Do you belong to one now?”

“No, neither of us do,” put in the boy who had spoken first. “My name
is Teddy Bunker,” he added in more friendly tones.

“And mine is Billie Ruggler,” said his companion. “Let’s see the bat.”

Tommy handed it over, and both his newly made acquaintances tested
it, tapping it on the pavement and swinging it in the air.

“It’s a good one, all right,” was Billie’s opinion.

“A dandy!” agreed Teddy.

“It cost a quarter,” spoke Tommy, proudly. “Say, now, will you join a
nine if I get one up? I’m sure I can.”

“Why, yes, I’d like to belong,” answered Teddy, slowly.

“So would I,” came from Billie. “I can’t play very good, though.”

“Oh, we’ll have to have practice,” agreed Tommy. “And maybe the
fellows from Millton, where we moved from, will come over and play us
some day.”

“Where can we play?” asked Billie. “There’s only one ball field in
town, and the big fellows use that. They never allow us on it.”

“Oh, we’ll have a diamond of our own,” declared Tommy. “We can fix
up some vacant lot. Anything will do for a start. I guess some man
will let us play in his lot, and maybe we can get enough money for a
back-stop and uniforms. That would be dandy!”

“Where’d we get the money?” asked Teddy.

“Earn it,” came quickly from Tommy. “Cut grass, run errands, and
things like that. We can do it! Say, do you know any other fellows we
can get to join the nine? We need six more.”

“Yes, I guess we can find some,” answered Teddy, and then, as another
lad came suddenly around the corner of the street—a lad taller and
stronger than either of the three—Billie interrupted by calling:

“Look out, here comes Jakie Norton!”

Before Tommy could ask who Jakie was, and why his two companions
seemed to be afraid of the newcomer, for they certainly acted as
though they disliked him, Jakie strode up to him and roughly took the
bat out of his hands.

“Let’s see that,” spoke the tall lad in rather surly tones. “Humph!
A new one, eh?” and he tapped it sharply on the pavement. “Say, what
does a little chap like you want of a bat like this? It’s too good!
Guess I’ll take it,” and then, tucking the new bat under his arm,
Jakie hurried off.

“Say, that’s mean!” exclaimed Teddy in a low voice.

“He’s always doing things like that,” added Billie. “Once he took all
my marbles.”

Tommy was so surprised for a moment that he did not know what to do.
He thought it was only a joke, and that Jakie would soon return with
the bat and laugh with them. But the big boy seemed to have no
such intention. Then Tommy started after him.

[Illustration: _Jakie Strode Up to Him and Roughly Took the Bat Out
of His Hands._]

“Where are you going?” asked Teddy.

“I’m going to get my bat!”

“Don’t interfere with Jakie,” advised Billie. “He’s real mean, and
he’s a bad fighter. Better let him go.”

“Let him go? With my new bat? Not much!” exclaimed Tommy. “I’m going
to take it away from him.” And he set off on the run, while his two
new friends looked after him with wonder, fear and admiration on
their faces.




CHAPTER V

TOMMY MAKES A RUN


“Say, that new boy has nerve!” exclaimed Teddy, admiringly.

“Yes,” began Billie, “but if Jakie gets mad, he’ll hit him, and——”

By this time Tommy had nearly caught up to the boy who had his bat,
and Jakie, wondering at the footsteps behind him, turned around.
Billie was so interested in what he feared was going to happen, that
he did not finish the sentence he had started.

“Well, what do you want?” asked Jakie, sneeringly, as he faced our
hero.

“My bat, and I’m going to have it, too!” exclaimed Tommy,
determinedly.

“Go on away, and don’t bother me! You’re too little for a bat. I’m
going to keep this one, and I may let you play with it sometimes.”

Jakie turned and was about to walk off, but, to his surprise, as well
as to the wonder of Teddy and Billie, Tommy stepped directly in front
of the bully, who was head and shoulders taller than he.

“That’s my bat, and I’m going to have it!” exclaimed Tommy, sharply.
“You can’t play that kind of a trick on me, if I have just moved to
town! If you don’t give me that bat right away, I’ll find out where
you live, and my father will come and see your father about it.”

“Don’t worry me!” sneered the bully. “I’m going to keep the bat. Run
along now!”

“I will not!” cried Tommy, and then, with such a quick motion that
there was no chance to stop him, he snatched the bat from under the
bully’s arm. Then, instead of running away, as many boys would have
done under the circumstances, Tommy stood facing the other lad.

“Well, you _have_ got nerve!” exclaimed Jakie. “I’ve a good notion to
punch your head!”

“Don’t you dare touch me!” said Tommy, quietly, and there was
something in his voice that made the other hesitate. “You had no
right to take my bat. I said I’d get it back, and I did, and I want
you to let me alone. I’m not a bit afraid of you!”

Tommy had a firm grip on his bat, and, though his heart was beating
rather fast, he made up his mind that he would fight with all his
strength to retain his property.

“Say, he’s all right!” exclaimed Teddy, admiringly. “Let’s go help
him. I like a fellow that does things!”

“So do I!” agreed Billie. “The three of us ought to be able to stand
up to that mean Jakie.”

“Of course we can! Come on,” and the two started on the run toward
Tommy and his enemy. Tommy heard them coming, but did not turn his
head to look at them. He was eyeing the bully, ready for anything
that might happen. Jakie saw Teddy and Billie approaching, and he
also saw that they meant to do something. He realized that he would
be no match for three determined boys, even if he was taller and
stronger than any one of them.

Besides, Tommy looked as if he could give a pretty good account of
himself alone, and he had a stout ash bat in his hands that would be
an effective weapon in an encounter.

“I was only fooling,” said Jakie finally, laughing a bit, but he did
not seem in a very jolly mood. “I’d have given your bat back, after a
bit.”

“I’d have got it back, anyhow,” retorted Tommy, “and I’ve got it now.
If you bother me again, I’ll tell your father on you.”

“That’s right,” added Teddy, coming up just then. “We are going to
stick up for him, too!”

“Say, you think you’re a regular team, don’t you?” sneered Jakie.
“Don’t give me any of your back talk! I’ll fix you fellows some day,
if you don’t look out.” He spoke the last roughly.

“Huh! You started this!” came from Billie.

“Yes, he acts as though we did something,” added Tommy. And then,
having gained all that he needed, our hero turned away, his two chums
joining him on either side.

“Say, you’re all right!” exclaimed Billie, clapping Tommy on the back.

“Weren’t you afraid?” asked Teddy, when they were out of Jakie’s
hearing.

“Yes, I was,” admitted Tommy, slowly, “but I wasn’t going to let him
know it. Does he often do things like that?”

“Lots of times,” declared Teddy. “He’s one of the meanest boys in
town.”

“Then we won’t ask him to join our nine,” said Tommy. “Say, can’t you
fellows come down to my house?”

“Where do you live?” asked Billie.

“I don’t know the name of the street, but it’s a big yellow house,
and there’s a yard in front. There’s a drug store on the corner.”

“Oh, that’s Wickerham Street,” said Teddy. “I know the house you
mean.”

“Yes, the Perkins family used to live there,” went on Billie. “But I
can’t come now. I have to go home first.”

“So do I,” added his companion.

“Well, come over when you can,” invited Tommy, “and we’ll talk about
baseball.”

The boys promised, and Tommy hastened home to get a ball and practice
with his new bat. The things were nearly all moved into the house by
now, and Tommy thought to help by carrying in a few small articles
left on the sidewalk. The movers were preparing to leave.

“There he is again!” exclaimed the man with the big feet. “Say,
youngster, would you mind keeping out of my way?” he asked,
pleasantly.

“Don’t you want me to help?” inquired Tommy.

“No, I’d rather not. You see, I haven’t had any accidents to-day, and
I don’t want one to happen at the last minute. I might step on you,
you see. I wouldn’t want to, of course, but look there,” and the man
held up one of his big feet.

“It’s big, and I’m heavy,” he went on, “and when I _do_ step on
anything, I just naturally squash it! Can’t seem to help it,” he
added. “Now, I haven’t stepped on anybody during this moving, and
I don’t want to. So, if it’s just the same to you, I’d rather you
wouldn’t get in the way. It’s hard to look where I’m stepping when
I’m carrying things in front of me, and I surely wouldn’t step on you
on purpose, but—well, look out! You’d better trot along and play ball
until I get out of the way.”

“All right,” agreed Tommy, with a laugh. “I’ll go in the house and
see if I can help my mother.”

He found both his mother and father very busy, and a woman had been
hired to come in and help, so that Tommy’s aid was not needed.

“Go out and play,” advised his father, “but stay within call. I’ll
want you to go to the store and get something for supper pretty soon.
Nellie, you go out and play, too.”

“No, I’m going up to my room,” said Tommy’s sister. “Oh, I’ve got the
loveliest room!” she went on to her brother. “I can see away over the
fields to the school. At least, it looks like a school.”

“Where’s my room?” demanded Tommy, thinking of the apartment for the
first time. “Have I got a good one?”

“You can have your choice of two,” put in his mother. “There is a
small one on the second floor, or a big one in the attic, and——”

“I want the one in the attic!” said Tommy, quickly. “I’m going to
make a den of it, and sometimes can I have the boys up there?”

“Boys? Have you met some boys already?” asked his father, with a
laugh.

“Sure. Billie Ruggler and Teddy Bunker. They’re going to belong to my
nine. Here they come now!” suddenly exclaimed Tommy, glancing through
the window. “And they’ve got another fellow with them. I’m going to
have a catch, anyhow, if we can’t play a regular game,” and then,
forgetting all about his new room, Tommy hurried out to meet his new
friends.

“This is Herbert Kress,” said Billie, introducing their companion.
“This is the fellow I was telling you about,” he went on, pointing at
Tommy. “He took his bat away from Jakie Norton, and Jakie didn’t dare
grab it back.”

“If he’d tried it, he’d have had a lively tussle with all of us,”
predicted Teddy. “We were ready for him.”

“Come on and have a catch,” proposed Tommy. “Will you join our new
nine?” he asked of Herbert.

“Sure. I’ll be glad to, but I don’t know much about the game. We boys
never had a team before.”

“Then it’s time you did!” declared Tommy, with a laugh. “I’ll start
one. We’ll have some fun. Know any other fellows who’ll join?”

“I guess so,” replied Teddy, while Herbert said in a low voice to
Billie:

“Say, this Tommy Tiptop certainly does things, doesn’t he?”

“Yes; I’m glad he moved to town,” replied Billie, eagerly.

“There’s Joie Grubb!” called Teddy, as the boys stood in Tommy’s
front yard. A very fat boy was walking slowly on the other side of
the street.

“Does he play ball?” asked Tommy, quickly. “Call him over.”

“Hey, Joie!” shouted Billie. “Come on over and meet a new fellow.
We’re going to have a ball nine.”

Joie came over slowly and was introduced to Tommy.

“Do—do you mind if I sit down?” asked Joie, wiping his fat face with
his handkerchief. “It’s getting hot.”

“Good baseball weather,” commented Tommy. “Do you play?”

“No. I’m too fat, I guess. Anyhow, that’s what Jakie Norton said.”

“It’ll do you good to play ball,” advised Tommy. “You won’t be so
fat, then.”

“Say, you ought to see what happened to Jakie Norton to-day,” spoke
Billie. And he told of the trouble about the bat.

“Oh, say, if we’re going to play, come on,” begged Tommy. “There are
five of us, and we can play ‘two-o’-cat,’ with two batters, a catcher
and a pitcher, and one fellow to chase the balls. We’ll draw lots to
see who does the chasing, who pitches and who catches.”

“That’s the way to do it!” declared Joie. “I hope I don’t have to
do any chasing,” he added, with a laugh. Tommy liked Joie from the
start—in fact, most boys did—for he was jolly and good-natured, and
he didn’t in the least mind being called “Fatty.”

Luckily for himself, Joie was one of the batters. Tommy took a number
of blades of grass in his hand and let the other boys draw them. The
one who got the shortest was to be the runner, and the one who had
the next in size the catcher, then the pitcher, and then those who
had the two longest blades were to be at bat first. Joie and Teddy
were the first batters.

Next to the house into which Tommy’s parents had moved was a vacant
lot, and it was there that the boys went to play ball. Stones served
for bases, and the rear fence was the back-stop.

It was a simple game that the boys played, with only one base to run
to, and there were hardly any rules. If the batter knocked a fly,
and it was caught, he was out, while if he missed hitting two of the
balls that were tossed to him, he was also out.

They had a good time, and soon it was Tommy’s turn to bat.

“Here’s where I get a home run!” he cried as he stood up to home
plate, a round piece of red sandstone. “Give me a good ball, Joie,”
for the fat boy had been advanced to pitcher, after having gotten out
on an easy fly ball that only popped up a little way into the air.

The ball came slowly toward him, and Tommy swung his new bat at it
with all his strength. Away the ball went, sailing high over the
head of Teddy Bunker, who was doing the running.

“Come on!” cried Billie, who, with Tommy, made up the batting force.
“Make a home run!”

“Sure!” shouted Tommy, as he raced for the stone that marked the
first and only base.

He reached it safely, touched it with his foot and then started back
for home plate. Just as he got there, and while Billie was capering
about in delight, there came a crash of glass.

“Oh, my! Good night!” shouted Joie.

“What’s the matter?” asked Tommy.

“We’ve broken a window in your house,” said the fat pitcher. And
this was but too true. Teddy Bunker had thrown the ball to home with
such force that it went over the fence and crashed through the glass
of one of the parlor windows of the house into which Tommy had just
moved.




CHAPTER VI

TOMMY UPSETS A BULL


After the crash of the glass there came silence. The boys were
waiting for something to happen. They knew what always followed the
breaking of a window on the few occasions when such a calamity had
occurred.

“I—I didn’t mean to do that!” exclaimed Teddy, sorrowfully.

“Of course not!” agreed Tommy, quickly.

Mrs. Tiptop looked out of the door at that moment.

“Who did that, Tommy?” she asked, gently.

“We did, mother. It was an accident. I made a home run, and Teddy was
throwing, to try and get me out. Is it badly broken?”

“Well, it couldn’t be _much_ worse,” she replied, with a queer little
smile. “But, then, I’m glad no one was hurt. You boys will have to be
more careful, though. Can’t you find some place to play that isn’t so
close to the house?”

“We’re going to, as soon as we can get our nine made up,” answered
Tommy, eagerly, glad that his mother was not angry.

“Say, we’ll pay for that window,” said Teddy in a hoarse whisper.
“We’ll chip in and——”

“No, you won’t!” exclaimed Tommy, quickly. “Mom won’t mind. Something
always happens when you move, anyhow, and I know she’ll be gladder of
this than if a looking-glass was broken. You don’t want us to pay
for that, do you, momsey?” he called.

“Oh, no, of course not, dear,” she answered. “It couldn’t be helped.
But please be more careful next time. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you
to go to the store now, Tommy, and get something for supper,” she
added.

“We’ll go with you!” put in Joie, eagerly. “We don’t mind stopping
the game. Anyhow, I’m tired, and it’s still hot.”

“Sure we’ll stop,” agreed Teddy. “But I think we ought to pay for
that window.”

“No,” said Tommy, firmly. “Mother knows what’s right.”

“Say, she’s _all right_, your mother is!” exclaimed Herbert Kress.
“I remember once we broke a window in Mrs. Delafield’s house, and I
had to save up for two weeks to pay my share. And there was a circus
coming to town, too. I didn’t go.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to look for some other place to play,”
decided Tommy. “Do you fellows mind coming to the store with me? I
don’t know much about the town yet.”

“Sure we’ll come,” declared Billie.

“Glad of the chance,” added Teddy.

“You had better stop at the glass-man’s, and ask him to come and put
in a new window pane,” suggested Mrs. Tiptop, when she gave Tommy the
money to get some groceries. “It won’t matter much to-night, as it
isn’t cold, and I can paste a paper over the broken pane.”

“I’ll do it when I come back,” offered Tommy.

On the way to the store the boys talked excitedly of many things,
from the accident that had happened on the moving wagon, and about
which Tommy told them, to the breaking of the window.

“We want about four more fellows to make up the nine,” said Tommy.
“Can’t you ask them to come around to-morrow? We can meet at my
house. I guess I won’t go to school until the first of next week, and
that will give me time to get this ball nine in shape.”

“Are you really going to have one?” asked Herbert.

“Certainly I am. All of us fellows here will be on it,” and Tommy
looked at his four new chums.

“I guess Mortimer Manchester would join,” said Teddy.

“And Frank Bonder,” added Billie.

“George Pennington is a good player,” suggested Teddy, “and I guess
Sammie Sandlass will join.”

“He’s the boy with red hair that lives on Parker Street, isn’t he?”
asked Herbert.

“Yes, and he’s got a new baseball.”

“Then we want him,” decided Tommy, quickly. “We’ll need a good ball,
and we’ve got one bat, the one I just bought. It will take quite a
while to get an outfit, but I guess we can do it.”

“Where can we play, though?” asked Joie Grubb, doubtfully, as he
puffed along with the others.

“What’s the matter with Mr. Bashford’s lot?” suddenly asked Teddy.
“It’s plenty big enough, and it’s good and level. I’m sure he’d let
us use it if we asked him.”

“It’s too far out,” said Billie.

“It only takes about ten minutes to get there, and we wouldn’t break
any windows,” went on Teddy.

“Where is it?” asked Tommy, and the others told him how to get to the
lot by following the main street out to the old flour mill, and then
turning down a country lane.

“I’ll go look at it to-morrow,” decided our hero, “and I’ll ask Mr.
Bashford if we can use it.”

“Say, it takes you to do things!” exclaimed Herbert.

“Oh, I like to keep busy,” declared Tommy; and then the lads talked
more baseball, until they reached the grocery. On the way they passed
the now empty moving vans which had brought the Tiptop goods to
town. The man on the one on which Tommy had ridden waved his hand to
the lad, and the man with the big feet, who was on the other wagon,
shouted:

“It’s all right, youngster. I didn’t step on anybody to-day, and
I’m mighty glad of it, ’cause when I do step I generally squashes
something. Good-by!”

“Good-by,” answered Tommy, with a laugh.

The household arrangements were rather upset for the Tiptops that
night, as they always are the first day of a moving. But Mrs. Tiptop
managed to get a good supper, and all went to bed early. Tommy was
delighted with his room in the attic, and he fell asleep thinking of
how he could decorate it, and have a boys’ club meet there.

“Will you need me, mother?” he asked the next morning. “Can I help
you settle?”

“No; you might as well run out and play,” she answered. “I might step
on you if you were around,” she added, with a laugh, as she imitated
the voice of the moving man with the big feet. “Nellie will help me,”
she added, “and I have a scrub-woman coming in. Where are you going?”

“To see Mr. Bashford, and ask him if we can use his lot for the ball
nine.”

“Well, don’t be late for dinner. Your papa comes home at twelve. He
said he’d see about sending you to school on Monday. You had better
stop at that glass-man’s on your way, and tell him to please be sure
and send somebody to fix the broken window to-day.”

“I will, and after this there won’t be any danger. We are going to
play a good ways off from houses.”

“Perhaps you can’t get the lot.”

“Oh, I think I can.”

It did not take Tommy long to get to the Bashford meadow.

“Say, that will be fine!” he exclaimed to himself. “If we can only
get money enough to put up a back-stop, and buy some more bats and
balls, we’ll have a dandy baseball nine. Guess I’ll go over in
the field and see where would be a good place for home plate. Mr.
Bashford won’t mind, I think,” for he had not yet seen the owner of
the lot.

Tommy was pacing about in the big field, trying to decide which would
be the best way to lay out the diamond, when he heard a scream behind
him—a scream in a girl’s shrill voice.

Turning quickly, he saw a big black bull, that had evidently leaped
over the fence of an adjoining field, rushing toward a small girl
wearing a red dress. She stood still, close to the fence.

“He’ll horn her, sure!” gasped Tommy, as the girl screamed again. The
bull let out a bellow of rage and came on faster than before.

“I’ve got to do something!” decided Tommy, quickly. Then he saw where
there were several loose rails of the fence. He ran over, grabbed
up one of the lightest of the sticks, and then raced to get between
the bull and the little girl. She was too frightened to run, and
stood there, crying and screaming, awaiting the rush of the maddened
animal, who was snorting and bellowing, made frenzied by the sight of
the scarlet cloth of her dress.

[Illustration: _Heels Over Head Went the Maddened Animal_.]

“Run! Run!” cried Tommy. “Don’t stand there! Run and crawl under the
fence!”

The girl did not seem to hear, or else she did not dare move. Tommy
raced on, scarcely knowing what he was going to do.

A moment later he was in front of the girl, and was bravely facing
the bull that, with a snort of rage, had stood still, to eye the new
foe that had so suddenly appeared before him.

“Run and get under the fence!” cried Tommy again. “I’ll stop him from
hurting you.”

He held the fence rail in readiness.

“Oh! oh!” gasped the girl. “I’m—I’m so afraid. You—you——”

“Never mind me!” interrupted Tommy. “Run, I tell you! Run! Crawl
under the fence!”

The girl turned and raced for safety. In a moment she was in the
other field. Then, as though angered at losing a chance to toss the
creature who wore the red dress, the animal came on for Tommy. The
lad hardly knew what to do, for he realized that, even with the
stick, he could not hope to stop the rush of the brute.

Then, from somewhere behind him, Tommy heard a man’s hoarse voice
crying:

“Look out, youngster! That’s a mad bull! Run for your life! Throw
that stick at him and run! You can get to the fence first. Run!”

Tommy did not turn to see who was speaking to him. The bull was now
very close, and, taking the advice of the man, Tommy threw the stick
with all his force.

He was just turning to run, when he noticed that the fence rail had
gone right between the front legs of the bull, and an instant later,
as the animal suddenly rushed forward, it tripped and fell heavily,
the long stick completely upsetting it.

Heels over head went the maddened animal, rolling toward the boy, but
Tommy did not stay longer. With a jump he made for the fence, and he
reached it, crawling under before the bull could regain its feet and
take after him.




CHAPTER VII

TOMMY GOES SWIMMING


“Well, youngster, you are a smart one! To think you upset the bull
that way!” exclaimed the man who had called to Tommy, and who now
stood near him on the other side of the fence under which Tommy had
crawled to get out of the way of the angry animal.

The little girl with the red dress was also safe, and she stood
beside the man, crying a little and trembling, for she had been very
much frightened.

Tommy himself did not quite know what had happened, but he remembered
that he had thrown the rail at the bull, and that the animal had
fallen down, and then the lad had run as fast as he could for the
fence.

“Not hurt a bit, are you?” asked the man, anxiously.

The bull was bellowing away and pawing the ground near the fence.

“No,” answered Tommy, “not a bit. Is the bull hurt?”

“It would serve him good and right if he was,” replied the man. “He’s
been awful ugly lately, and I don’t know what to do with him. He
jumps nearly all the fences. I never thought he would get in that
field, though. What were you doing there?” he asked, turning to the
little girl, who had stopped crying.

“I took a short cut across lots to get home,” she answered, “and I
didn’t notice the bull until he was close to me. Then I—I couldn’t
seem to run, until this boy got in front of me.”

“Yes, it was a brave thing to do,” said the man, as he looked at
Tommy. “How did you think to throw that rail between his legs and
trip him up?” he asked.

“I didn’t think,” replied Tommy. “It just—just happened!”

“And it’s a good thing it did,” went on the man. He looked toward the
bull, who was pawing up the dirt, stamping his feet and shaking his
big head with the ugly-looking horns on, while, from time to time, he
gave forth a low bellow. “I’ll send a couple of hired men and have
him chained up in the stable. I can’t allow him in the fields any
more,” he added.

“Oh, is he your bull?” asked Tommy in surprise.

“Yes,” answered the man.

“Then you must be Mr. Bashford,” spoke the boy. “Is this your lot?
I’m glad I didn’t hurt the bull.”

“It would not do him any harm to be hurt some,” declared the man.
“He’s too ugly. I guess I’ll sell him. Yes, I’m Mr. Bashford.”

“Then you’re just the man I want to see!” exclaimed Tommy. “We boys
would like to have this lot for a ball field. Would you let us take
it—or—or—hire it to us?” he added, though he did not know where the
money was to come from to pay for it.

“Have my lot for a ball field!” exclaimed Mr. Bashford, thoughtfully.
“Why, we’ve got one ball team in town now. Is this a new one?”

“Yes,” replied Tommy, “it’s _my_ team. I’m going to have a nine of
boys about my size, only we can’t get any place to play. I came down
to-day to look at this lot, and then I heard this little girl scream,
and——”

“Oh, I’m _so_ glad you made that bull turn a somersault!” exclaimed
the girl. “He was mean to me!”

“Yes, you want to be careful how you cross the lots, Sallie,” said
Mr. Bashford. “Run along home now.”

“All right,” she answered. “My name is Sallie Grubb,” she went on to
Tommy.

“Are you Joie Grubb’s sister?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, “and I know who you are. Joie told me about you.
You’re the new boy who’s going to have a ball nine.”

“I am, if we can get a lot to play in,” replied our hero, looking at
the farmer and smiling.

“Humph!” exclaimed Mr. Bashford. “I guess after what you did to-day
I’ll have to let you use the lot. What’s your name?”

Tommy told him, adding something about how he had just moved to town,
and how he wanted to start a ball nine.

“Well, you can use the lot,” said Mr. Bashford finally, “and I guess
I’ll have to lock my bull up. Yes, bellow away, old fellow!” he
called to the animal. “You won’t get a chance to chase little girls
much longer. Tell the boys they can play here all summer,” went on
the farmer. “In the fall I may plow up this field, but I won’t do
anything with it right away.”

“How much rent?” asked Tommy, anxiously.

“Rent? Not a cent!” said Mr. Bashford, with a laugh. “I’ll be glad to
see another nine in town. I like baseball. You can play here free.”

Tommy was delighted to hear this, for if they did not have to pay
anything for the use of the lot there would be so much more money to
build a back-stop and get balls, bats and gloves.

“Maybe we can even get uniforms!” thought the boy eagerly, as he
looked at the big lot where he intended to lay out a diamond. “If we
could, we’d be a regular nine, and could play other teams.”

“Well, I’m going to get some of my men and have that bull locked up,”
went on Mr. Bashford. “You children had better run along home now, or
he may get loose again. He’s very bad at jumping fences.”

“Are you afraid to go home?” asked Tommy of Sallie Grubb.

“Not—not very much,” she replied, hesitatingly.

“I’ll go with you, anyhow,” he volunteered, “though there isn’t any
more danger.”

“Not if you don’t cross the fields,” put in Mr. Bashford. “Well, you
can use the lot any time you want to,” and Tommy, after thanking him,
walked away with Sallie, while the bull continued to paw the earth
and bellow in anger.

Sallie, when she reached home, gave such an account of the way that
Tommy had made the bull turn head over heels that Mrs. Grubb got the
idea that Tommy was quite a remarkable boy, indeed, whereas the truth
was that he was just like other boys. But when he saw a thing needed
doing he did it, and that as soon as he could.

“I do hope you help my Joie to get thinner,” said Mrs. Grubb,
when she had heard about the proposed ball nine. “He is too fat,
altogether.”

“If he plays ball enough he’ll get thin,” said Tommy, with a smile.

The boys were delighted when they heard of Tommy’s success in getting
permission to use the lot, and at once baseball activity began in
earnest.

Several of the boys whom Teddy, Billie and Tommy’s other new friends
had mentioned agreed to join, and, though there was no regular team
as yet, it looked as if there would be one in a short time.

Tommy planned to hold a meeting and see if he could not raise some
money, so they could buy more bats, balls, gloves and other things
needed to play the game.

The first thing they did was to start work on their new diamond in
Mr. Bashford’s field. It was cleared of the bigger stones, and a
large flat one was picked out for home plate. Then Tommy got some
barrel-heads from his cellar, nailed them together, and staked them
to the ground to use for bases—first, second and third. Next, a place
for the pitcher to stand was dug out, the base lines were marked by
taking a hoe and cutting out some of the sod, and then the place
began to look like a real diamond, though it was rather small, for
the boys could not run the full length of regular bases.

“If we only had a back-stop!” exclaimed Tommy regretfully one day
after school, when he and several others of his new friends were
working on the field. “That’s what we need most now.”

“Can’t we build one ourselves?” asked Teddy.

“If we had the boards we might, but lumber costs money, and we
haven’t hardly any left,” was Tommy’s reply.

I might explain that each of the boys had a little pocket money, and
most of this was turned into a general fund. With it they bought some
gloves, two new balls and a few bats.

“But that’s all we can stand now,” said Tommy. “If we can earn more
money we’ll have a back-stop, and I guess we can. It will soon be
summer, and lots of people will want their grass cut. We fellows can
do it, I think. We can use our lawn mower, and before long we may
have enough cash to get suits all around. But we’ll play without
them at first.”

“Who are we going to play?” asked Joie.

“Any team our size. I’ll send out some challenges,” said Tommy.
“Maybe the team from Millton will come here. And we’ll play any scrub
team that wants to.”

“What you going to call our team?” inquired Teddy.

“Oh, we’ll have a meeting and decide on a name,” replied the lad who
was doing more than anyone else to get the boys into a ball nine.
“The thing to do now is to get the ground in shape.”

There had been several talks among the lads, who met in each other’s
houses or in Tommy’s attic room, which he had fitted up with many of
his own treasures, so that it looked a little like a “den,” as he had
heard some older boys call their apartment.

The Tiptop house had been pretty well settled by this time. Tommy and
Nellie had started to school, and they had made many new friends.
Tommy several times saw the lad who had taken his bat, but the bully
did not even speak to our hero, and Tommy was glad enough to let
Jakie alone.

“Well, as soon as we clean out the third base line, I guess we’ll
stop,” suggested Tommy one afternoon, when they had done considerable
work on the diamond. “My! but it’s hot, though!”

“I should say so!” exclaimed Joie Grubb. “I wonder if it isn’t warm
enough to go in swimming?”

“Of course it is!” agreed Mortimer Manchester. “Let’s go down to the
old swimming hole by the buttonball tree. I was in the other day, and
it wasn’t as warm as it is now.”

“Come on!” cried the boys in a chorus, and soon Tommy and the others,
stopping work on the baseball diamond, were hurrying toward the old
swimming hole. Within a few minutes they were in the water, splashing
about, diving off a spring-board, swimming across the hole under
water, leaping over and ducking each other and having a general good
time.

It was quite warm, and the water was not a bit chilly, so they stayed
in for some time.

“Well, I’m going out,” finally announced Tommy. “Can you fellows come
over to my house this evening, and we’ll see about having a meeting,
getting a captain, manager and things like that? We want to arrange
about playing other nines, too.”

Several of the boys promised to come, though some had to stay at home
and study, and, while busily thinking of how he could manage to raise
money for uniforms, Tommy scrambled out of the water and ran toward
the place where he had left his clothes.

“Hello!” he suddenly exclaimed. “This is queer!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Billie. “Did somebody tie your clothes in
knots?”

“I should say they had!” exclaimed Tommy, “and hard knots, too! Look
at the legs of my pants! I’ll never get them out, and my shirt and
coat, too! And where are my shoes?”

The other boys aided him in looking around in the grass for them. But
though the shoes of everyone else but Tommy Tiptop were there, his
had disappeared.

“Guess I’ll have to go home barefoot,” he remarked, ruefully, “and my
mother won’t like it. Those shoes were almost new.”




CHAPTER VIII

TOMMY EARNS SOME MONEY


“Here, we’ll help you untie the knots in your clothing,” offered
Teddy. “And maybe we can find your shoes, if we look a little more.”

“I surely hope we can,” spoke Tommy, who had managed to get his shirt
on. “I don’t see who could have done this.”

“Oh, someone sneaked up when we weren’t looking,” was the opinion of
Herbert Kress.

“Yes, and I believe I know who it was!” suddenly exclaimed Billie
Ruggler. “It was that Jakie Norton. He did it to get even with Tommy
for taking the bat away from him that time.”

“I believe you’re right,” agreed Teddy. “If we had Jakie here now,
there’s enough of us to duck him! How about it?”

“Sure we would!” came in a chorus from the other lads. They had
succeeded by this time in getting most of the knots out of Tommy’s
clothes, and now, as the boys were nearly all dressed, they began a
more careful search for the missing shoes.

“Here they are!” suddenly called Mortimer Manchester, who had gone
some distance back from the brook. “They’re in this old stump, and
they’re filled with sand and gravel. That was a mean trick, all
right!”

“It sure was!” agreed the other boys, while Tommy hurried over
to claim his footwear. The shoes were filled to the top with the
wet material from the banks of the stream, and even when they were
emptied they were damp and hard to put on.

“But it’s better than not finding them at all,” observed Tommy. “I
can manage to squeeze my feet into ’em,” which he did.

“I don’t see how Jakie Norton—if it was him that did it—could sneak
up and we not see him,” observed Joie Grubb.

“He probably did it when we were splashing each other in the water
and making a lot of noise,” was the opinion of Georgie Pennington.
“He might have grabbed up Tommy’s clothes, hid back in the bushes
until he had the knots in ’em, and then he tossed ’em over here. He
took the shoes farther off with him.”

This was about the only way the boys could figure out that the trick
had been played, and, as they walked toward the town, they talked
over what they would like to do to the bully if they could catch him
while they were all together. Alone, none of them would have been
strong enough to engage in a tussle with Jakie.

It was rather an unpleasant ending to the day’s fun, but it might
have been much worse, as Tommy said, if he had not found his shoes.

“Well, how is the baseball nine coming on?” asked Tommy’s father of
him one evening about a week after the swimming fun just mentioned.
“Have you challenged any other teams yet?”

“No, but I expect to soon. We had a meeting up in my room, and I’m
captain of the nine.”

“I should think you would be, you got it up all alone,” said Nellie.
“Don’t you own the nine, Tommy?”

“Of course not, and, just because a fellow gets up a nine, that
doesn’t say he is going to be captain. The captain has to be the best
player,” explained the lad. “Of course I don’t say I _am_ the best,”
he hastened to add, “but the fellows said I was good, and they hadn’t
ever had a nine before, so that’s why they wanted me to be captain.”

“But when are you going to play games, Tommy?” asked his mother.

“Oh, pretty soon now. We’ve got the grounds nearly fixed, and we’ve
had a lot of practice. We’ve got to build a back-stop next, and
the catcher needs a mask. We’ve got enough balls and bats and a
few gloves,” he went on. “Some of the fellows took a pair of their
father’s old gloves, cut off the finger-tops and stuffed the inside
with cotton. I wish I had an old pair to fix up.”

“I guess I can find some,” said Mr. Tiptop.

“I don’t s’pose you could lend the team enough money to get boards
for a back-stop, could you, pa?” asked Tommy, wistfully.

“I’m afraid not,” was the answer. “You see, it cost me quite a bit to
move here, Tommy, and I can’t afford to let you have any more than I
allow you every week. But why can’t you boys earn money yourselves?”

“There doesn’t seem to be many ways of earning money here,” replied
the lad. “Back in Millton, now, I could make a lot cutting grass.
But they don’t have many front lawns here, and people let the grass
grow as long as it likes in the back yards. I asked a lady, two or
three houses down from here, the other day, if she didn’t want her
back grass cut, and she said it didn’t matter because no one saw it,
anyhow. I’ll cut our front grass for fifteen cents,” went on Tommy,
quickly, looking at his father.

“All right,” agreed Mr. Tiptop. “I’ll pay you to-morrow. And, if I
were you, I’d go downtown after school, some days, and see if you can
run errands for any of the storekeepers. I know up at the factory
where I work we often need a boy to run errands and carry light
packages, when the regular boy is out. It’s too far away, or you
could come down there and earn a little money.”

“Well, with my ten cents and fifteen for cutting the grass, I’ll have
twenty-five cents,” went on Tommy. “That will help buy some wood, and
we’ve got about half a dollar in the treasury,” he added, proudly.

“Good luck to you!” cried Mr. Tiptop as his son went up to bed.

Tommy arose early the next morning and had most of the grass cut
before it was time to go to school. He finished it at noon, and
though he wanted to go and practice baseball playing with the boys
on the new diamond they had made, Tommy decided that he would go
downtown and see if he could not find a chance to earn money.

“Can I run any errands for you?” he asked in several stores. But
though the merchants were kind, and smiled at Tommy, they did not
need any help just then.

“I’ll try that florist’s over there,” decided our hero, as he got
in front of the flower place. “Maybe he has bouquets to send out
somewhere. Then, if I don’t get a chance, I’ll go back home and try
it again to-morrow.”

“Any errands to run?” he asked of the proprietor of the flower shop.
The man was standing behind the counter, holding a long box in his
hand.

“Errands!” he exclaimed. “Do you run errands?”

“I haven’t run any yet,” answered Tommy, with a smile, “but I’d like
to. Can’t I carry those flowers for you? I’ll be careful, and I’ll go
as fast as I can.”

“Humph!” exclaimed the man. “I do happen to want this box of roses
delivered in a hurry. My young man is away over on the other side of
town, and I don’t know when he will be back. But I don’t know you,
and these roses are worth about three dollars. How am I to know that
you won’t run away with them, instead of delivering them to the right
person? A lady wants to wear them to a party to-night. Of course you
_look_ like a nice, honest boy,” went on the man, with a smile, “but
I have to be careful. I lost some money once, trusting a boy I didn’t
know. Who are you and where do you live?”

“I’m Tommy Tiptop,” replied our hero, adding his address, “and I—”

“Tommy Tiptop, eh?” exclaimed the man. “Oh, I’ve heard about you.
You’re getting up a ball nine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir, and I’m trying to earn money running errands, so we can
build a back-stop. But do you play ball?”

“Oh, no, but I’ve got a nephew who does—Mortimer Manchester. I’ve
heard him speak of you.”

“Yes, Mortimer is on my team,” spoke Tommy, proudly. “I think I will
let him play shortstop, but I’m not quite sure. I’m the captain,” he
explained.

“Yes, so Mortimer said. He’s taken quite a notion to you. Well, I’m
his uncle, and I guess we’re well enough introduced now. I’m glad you
happened to come in, Tommy, and I’m going to let you deliver these
roses. I’ll give you fifteen cents for taking them to this address.
Don’t be any longer than you can help, for they should have been
delivered some time ago. Here is your money. The roses are paid for,
and you needn’t come back here. Good luck to you!” and the florist
handed Tommy a dime and a five-cent piece.

[Illustration: _“Any Errands to Run,” He Asked of the Proprietor of
the Flower Shop._]

“Say, I am having luck to-day!” thought the boy as he put the box
of roses under his arm. “This is thirty cents I’ve earned. We’ll soon
have our back-stop built, and then I’m going to see if we can’t play
some regular teams. Do you know any team of our size?” he asked the
florist.

“Humph! Not in town. I once had an errand boy who lived in Freeport;
that’s the next village, you know. He belonged to a small nine there,
I heard him say.”

“What was his name?” asked Tommy, eagerly. “I wonder if I couldn’t
write to him? Maybe his team would play ours.”

“It’s worth trying,” suggested the florist. “His name was Joe Forker,
and he was the pitcher, I believe. Just address him at Freeport.
Everyone goes to the post-office there for their mail, and he’ll be
sure to get the letter. It isn’t so far but what the team there could
come over here to play, or you could go there.”

“I’ll do it!” decided Tommy, “and I wish, if we do have a game, that
you’d come to see it. We can’t charge any admission,” he added, “as
we haven’t any fence around the lot. But we are going to take up a
collection, and you needn’t put anything in the hat when it’s passed
around,” Tommy said, generously.

“Thanks!” exclaimed the florist. “Now, you’d better hurry on with the
roses.”

As Tommy was going out of the store he looked down in an alleyway and
saw a number of packing boxes. At once he had an idea.

“Are those boxes yours?” he asked of Mortimer’s uncle.

“Yes, and I don’t know what to do with ’em. Guess I’ll have to pay a
man to clear them out of the way.”

“Don’t do that!” exclaimed Tommy, quickly. “If you’ll let me take
’em, I’ll get some of the boys and clear ’em away for nothing, and
we’d be glad of the chance.”

“You’re welcome to them,” replied the man, whose name was Mr.
Fillmore. “But what are you going to do with them?”

“I think we can use some of ’em to make our back-stop with!”
exclaimed Tommy, and he hurried off with a big idea in his mind.




CHAPTER IX

TOMMY’S NINE PLAYS


“Say, that’s a great idea!” exclaimed Joie Grubb.

“I should say it was,” added Georgie Pennington.

“Wonder why we didn’t think of it ourselves?” asked Teddy Bunker.

“Oh, it takes Tommy Tiptop to do things,” declared Sammie Sandlass,
ruffling his red hair. “It’s a good thing he came to town.”

“Oh, well, it just happened to come to me,” said Tommy, who blushed
a bit at all this praise, though he could not help liking it. It was
the day after he had had his idea about building a back-stop from
the lumber of the old boxes, and he and his chums were clearing the
packing cases out of the cellar of the florist’s shop and out of the
alleyway.

“Look out for nails in your hands!” warned Mr. Fillmore, as he
watched the boys at work. “You can’t play ball if you get all
scratched up.”

“Say, we ought to get a hammer, knock out some of these nails and
save ’em,” proposed Tommy. “We’ll need all the nails we can get to
put up the back-stop.”

“That’s a good idea,” declared Joie Grubb. “I’ll ask Mr. Fillmore for
the hammer.”

One was supplied, and many nails were pulled out, being carefully
saved to be straightened and used again. Box after box was taken,
some large and some small. A number of the boys had hand wagons, and
on these they piled the boxes. It made quite a procession when they
were ready to start for the ball field, as there were eight or ten
boys and nearly half a dozen carts.

“Say, what’s going on?” asked Mr. Wentworth, the hardware merchant,
who had a store next to the florist’s. “Are those boys going to have
an election bonfire?”

“They’re going to make a baseball back-stop,” explained Mr. Fillmore.
“That’s a plucky chap at the head of the nine—Tommy Tiptop.” And he
related how our hero had gone on the errand for him and had had the
idea about using the old packing cases.

“Say, that’s the kind of boys I like!” exclaimed the hardware man.
“Boys who do things. If they want any nails for their back-stop,
just you tell ’em I’ll supply all they need for nothing. They’ve got
pluck to start a small nine, and I’d like to see ’em play some time.
The big team here is so professional, and they depend so much on the
pitcher, that it’s no fun watching them play sometimes.”

“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Fillmore. “Some day you and I will go and
see these small chaps play an old-fashioned game of ball, without
much regard for the rules—the same kind of a game you and I played
when we were youngsters.”

“Oh, but the game is different now,” said the hardware man. “You’ll
find that these small chaps know almost as much about the rules as
their bigger brothers. But that Tommy Tiptop has certainly started
things moving around here. I like that kind of a boy.”

Spring was turning into summer, and it was fine baseball weather,
the boys thought, as they turned into the field which they had made
into a fairly good diamond and where they intended to start their
back-stop.

They had already played several practice games, and they did very
well. Everyone said Tommy made a fine captain.

“How do you make a back-stop?” asked Joie Grubb when the procession,
which had been made larger by the addition of a number of admiring
smaller lads, reached the diamond. “I never built one before.”

“Neither did I,” replied Tommy, “but I looked at the one on the big
diamond. There are just some posts stuck in the ground, and then
boards nailed on them crossways.”

“Then we’ve got to get some posts,” said practical Teddy.

“There are a lot of fence rails in that pile,” added Billie. “If Mr.
Bashford would let us take them they’d do fine!”

“I’ll go ask him,” volunteered Tommy. “I know him pretty well now.
You fellows can be knocking the sides off the boxes, and be careful
to save the nails, and don’t split the boards.”

The boys became busy as their captain ran off to make his request of
the farmer. Not only did Mr. Bashford say they could take as many
posts as they needed, but he loaned them a post spade with which to
dig the holes.

“Whew! It’s hard work!” exclaimed Tommy when, after nearly a half
hour’s work, he had not got a hole deep enough to hold the post
firmly. The meadow land was rather heavy to dig.

“Let me try,” suggested Sammie Sandlass.

He was struggling with the spade, and Tommy was wondering how long
before he could arrange for a regular game, when a strange voice
exclaimed:

“You boys don’t know how to dig holes. Let me try!”

They turned quickly, and Tommy beheld rather an old man, clad in
ragged garments, who was looking at the lads with a good-natured
smile on his face. Tommy had never seen him before, but several of
the other lads seemed to know him, for they at once exclaimed:

“Hello, Old Johnny Green! What are you doing here?”

“Oh, just walking around,” answered the man. “I saw you boys over
here, and I thought maybe you were going to have a campfire and cook
something. I was hungry, so I came over. But I see what you’re doing.
Let me dig the post holes for you.”

He took the spade from Sammie’s hand, and soon had a hole
sufficiently deep to hold a post when the dirt was filled in around
it.

“Who is he?” asked Tommy of Teddy in a whisper, as the two lads were
knocking more sides off the boxes.

“Johnny Green is his name, and everybody always calls him ‘Old,’
because there is another Mr. Green, of the same name, in town.”

“Is he a tramp?” asked Tommy.

“No, but he never works—that is, to make any money. He’s always
willing to help everybody else at any work he sees going on, but he
won’t work for himself—sort of shiftless, my father says.”

“How does he live?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, the town helps support him. If he would only work steadily, he
could make good money, for he is handy with tools. But he wanders all
around. Everybody likes him, for he’s kind and gentle. He’ll probably
be around our ball field all summer, and he’ll help us all he can.”

“Then we’ll treat him right,” decided Tommy. “I’m glad he’s digging
those holes, for we never could do it.”

Old Johnny Green proved that he knew how to do other things besides
dig the holes, for he showed the boys the best way in which to nail
the boards on the posts.

“You’ll need more nails, though,” he said when the bottom layer of
boards had been put on, and when the back-stop was really beginning
to look like something.

“I’ll go buy some,” volunteered Tommy. “We can take the money out of
the treasury later.”

But he did not have to spend any of his change for nails, for the
hardware man, true to his promise, supplied all that were needed.

“We’re getting on fine!” thought Tommy on his way back to the lot.

The back-stop was not finished that night, but Old Johnny Green
rather surprised the boys, and other people too, by working on it all
the next day, so that it was completed late in the afternoon. Tommy
told his mother about the queer character, and she sent him a big
basket of victuals, which Old Johnny Green said more than paid him
for his work for the boys.

“And now we’re ready for games!” exclaimed Tommy, as they looked at
the completed back-stop.

“Have you heard from those fellows in Freeport yet?” asked Billie.

“No, but I expect to in a few days,” replied the young captain. He
got a letter from Joe Forker the next morning. Joe was captain of
the Freeport Ramblers now, and he wrote that they would play Tommy’s
team, which had been named the Riverdale Roarers, on the following
Saturday.

“Then we’ve got to do some hard practice,” decided Tommy, as he
proudly read to his players the first challenge acceptance they had
received.

“We sure will!” exclaimed Teddy.

“Say, we’re like a regular nine!” declared Billie in delight.

“If we only had uniforms!” sighed Tommy. That was his one big
ambition, and he hoped the Freeport Ramblers would not have suits.
But they did, and very trim they looked in them when they reached the
grounds on Saturday afternoon.

In the meanwhile Tommy and his chums had been doing some hard
practice, and they felt that they could win unless the other team had
better players. And when Tommy looked over the visiting nine, he felt
a little doubtful of the ability of his own.

“But we’ll do our best!” he exclaimed.

A few seats had been put up from wood left over from the back-stop,
and on these the players could sit. There were no seats for the
audience, and, as a matter of fact, there was not much of a crowd.
There were lots of the town boys—the smaller ones—and a few men
and youths, who had nothing in particular to do. But Tommy and his
friends did not care for the audience so much as they did care to
play ball.

Tommy had a talk with Joe Forker, the other captain, and little time
was wasted. They picked out an umpire. Tommy, who was to do the
pitching, had some “warm-up” practice with Teddy, who would catch,
and then, as the visitors had lost the toss, and had to take first
inning, Tommy went to the pitching box.

“Make him give you a good ball now!” called Henry Hicks to Will
Warnton, who was first up at the bat.

“I’m going to make a home run!” retorted Will, boastingly.

“Play ball!” called the umpire, and Tommy threw what he hoped would
be a curve.

Tommy Tiptop’s nine was playing its first regular game, and the young
captain felt very proud and happy, as he realized that it was due
mostly to his own efforts that this had come about.




CHAPTER X

TOMMY GOES FISHING


“That’s the way to hit ’em out!”

“Come on now, Will; make a home run!”

“Say, he hit that good and hard!”

These were some of the cries that greeted Will Warnton’s first strike
at the ball which Tommy had pitched him, and hit it Will did, sending
the horsehide away out toward center field.

“Go after it!” shouted Tommy. “Don’t let him get to second base!”

Frank Bonder, who was nearest to the ball, ran to get under it. Down
it came, right in his fingers.

“He’s out!”

“He won’t make a run!”

“That’s the way to catch ’em!”

It seemed as if every boy on the grounds was yelling at once. No
wonder poor Frank got confused and dropped the ball! For that is
exactly what he did, letting it slip through his fingers.

There was a groan of despair from Tommy and his chums, for Will was
safe on second base.

“Never mind,” consoled the young captain of the Riverdale Roarers.
“They won’t get any more hits, and we’ll get him out soon.”

“Oh, don’t be too sure of that,” came from the runner on second,
as he danced about, trying to make Herbert Kress, who was second
baseman, get nervous. “I’m going to make the run pretty soon.”

“I guess I didn’t curve that ball very much,” thought Tommy, as he
got ready for the next hitter. As soon as he threw the ball, Will,
on second base, started for third. At once there was more shouting
and confusion, boys jumping up and down and yelling at the top of
their voices. It was very clear that the visiting team had had more
experience than had Tommy’s nine.

Will got to third, but he did not get home right away, as the boy
at the bat was put out on a foul, which the catcher grabbed just in
time. Then the next lad up hit a ball that went right between the
legs of fat Joie Grubb, who was shortstop. When the inning was over
the visitors had two runs.

“But we’ll win!” declared Tommy to his boys, confidently.

It did not look so at first, for when three innings had been played
the score stood four runs to six in favor of the Ramblers.

Then Tommy and his chums braced up, and though they had never before
played together in a regular game, though they had no uniforms, and
not a very good outfit, they played so well that they tied the score.

“But we’ve got to _win_!” cried Tommy, as it came time for his boys
to go out in the field. “We’ve got to _win_!”

“I hope we do,” said Sammie Sandlass. “But their pitcher throws big
curves.”

“I’ve got to have more practice at that,” admitted Tommy. “They’re a
stronger team than we are, but I think we can win.”

It came to the ending of the ninth inning. The score had increased
until it was now ten runs to eleven in favor of the Ramblers. It was
the turn of the Riverdale Roarers to bat for the last time. If they
could get two runs they would win. Could they do it?

“We’re just going to!” exclaimed Tommy. “I bat right after you do,
Teddy. You try and knock a three-bagger, and I’ll try to make a home
run, and that will win us the game.”

“Of course I’ll try,” spoke Teddy, “but you know it isn’t so easy to
make runs as you’d think.”

“Of course I know, but do it! Do it!”

“Yes, you’re the boy who does things!” laughed Teddy. “Well, here I
go,” he added, as he walked up to home plate.

“One strike!” shouted the umpire, though Teddy had not moved his bat.

“Say, I didn’t strike at that,” objected the batter.

“I know you didn’t, but you had ought to,” replied the umpire. “It
was right over the plate.”

“Of course it was,” declared the rival pitcher. “I can put ’em just
where I want to.”

“Then put one here!” cried Teddy, holding out his bat about level
with his belt, “and I’ll knock it over the barn!”

“I’d like to see you do it!” retorted the pitcher.

Well, Teddy did not exactly knock the ball over the barn, but he
did send it quite a distance, and he managed to get to third base,
because the right fielder muffed the ball.

“Now for a home run, and we win the game!” cried Tommy.

“You never can,” spoke Joie Grubb, despairingly.

There were two strikes called on Tommy, almost before he knew it, and
he shut his teeth firmly together and made up his mind that he would
hit the next ball. And he did.

[Illustration: _But He Had to Slide Through the Dust and Grass to
Make It._]

Away it sailed, right over the head of the center fielder, for
Tommy was a sturdy lad, and he put all his strength into that one
strike.

“Go on! Go on!”

“A home run!”

“Leg it, Tommy! Leg it!”

“We’ll win the game!”

Once again everybody was shouting. Teddy had started from third base
toward home. Tommy had rounded first and was going for second as fast
as he could.

He got to third as the boy who had raced after the ball threw it in.

“I’ve got to get there ahead of that ball!” thought our hero.

And he did. But he had to slide through the dust and grass to make
it, and he tore a hole in his trousers. But he did not mind that, for
he had on an old suit, and he thought the winning of the game would
more than make up for the ripped garment.

“We win! We win!” cried the Riverdale Roarers.

“Of course we win!” yelled Teddy. “It takes Tommy Tiptop to do
things!”

There was a moment of silence on the part of the visiting nine. It
had happened so suddenly that they could not realize it. They had
been sure of victory, and at the last moment their rivals had won.
They did not understand it.

“That was a great run, Tommy!” exclaimed Billie Ruggler.

“Well, I knew I just _had_ to make it!” panted Tommy.

Then the losers cheered the winners and the winners gave a cheer for
the losers, and the first real game was over.

“But we’ll play you another,” said the captain of the visitors. He
did not like to lose.

“Of course,” agreed Tommy. “Next time we may have suits.”

“I’d rather win the game than have uniforms,” went on the captain of
the losing side. “But next time _we_ will win.”

Tommy laughed as his chums gathered around him, and then the two
teams left the field. As our hero walked out of the lane to the
village street he saw his sister. A girl was with her.

“Oh, Tommy, did you win?” asked Nellie.

“Sure we did,” he answered. “But it was hard work. I made a home run.”

“Oh, that was fine!” exclaimed Nellie’s friend, and then, for the
first time, Tommy noticed that she was the girl he had saved from the
bull.

“Oh, how are you?” he asked. “You’re Joie’s sister, aren’t you? Joie
played fine to-day.”

“He’s very fat to play ball,” remarked Sallie. “Mamma says she
doesn’t see how he does it.”

“Oh, he isn’t so fat as he was,” spoke Tommy. “He got thin helping
build the back-stop, I guess.”

The back-stop had been a great help to the lads in playing ball,
for the catchers were not expert enough to stop all the balls the
pitchers delivered, and the structure of posts and boards, which Old
Johnny Green had helped build, came in very nicely. It stopped the
missed balls from rolling too far away. The old man was on hand to
see the game, and he clapped loudly every time Tommy and his friends
did well.

Tommy, with his sister and Sallie and some other companions, walked
toward home, talking about the great game. Tommy fairly burst into
the house, actually falling up the steps in his eagerness, crying
out:

“We won, ma! We won! We beat the other team! Now, who says we can’t
play ball?”

“Indeed, did you win, dear? I’m very glad!” replied his mother, as
she stroked his damp hair with her hand. “Oh, but how warm you are,
Tommy!”

“Yes, it was hot. But now I’ve got to write a letter to see about a
game for next Saturday.”

Tommy could not arrange for a regular contest during the next week,
but he managed to have a game between his own team and a scrub
one from boys about town, for there was quite a baseball fever in
Riverdale since Tommy’s nine had won. Every boy who could manage it,
had a glove, a ball and a bat, and practiced at odd times in vacant
lots or on the new diamond.

Tommy’s nine won their second game, but they did not take much credit
for that, as the scrub team they played had no regular organization.

“But it is good practice for us,” remarked Tommy, and the others
agreed with him.

At odd times they worked on the diamond, getting rid of the stones,
clearing away the grass from the home plate and along the base lines.

Several of the other boys did odd bits of work about town and earned
money so that they were able to buy bagbases, some new balls and
occasionally a new bat. The catcher had a second-hand mask.

But they could not quite manage the uniforms. Some of the boys did
coax their parents to buy them ball suits, but the nine, as a whole,
did not have them, and there were hardly any two alike. Tommy got
one, with the letters “R. R.” in red on his shirt, and very proud he
was, too. Sometimes, when some boy could not play, he would loan his
suit to a friend.

As the days of summer went on, Tommy’s nine played many games, losing
some and winning more. The fathers, and, in some cases, the mothers
of the players, came to see a game occasionally, and Mr. Fillmore,
the florist, and his friend, Mr. Wentworth, the hardware man, paid
several visits to the new diamond.

It was a warm summer’s day, and Tommy, who had been at the head of
his class in school for seven times in succession, was, as a reward
of merit, allowed to come out at two o’clock on Friday. There were
none of his close friends who had the same honor, so Tommy did not
have anyone to chum with, and, though he was glad to be out of
school, he hardly knew what to do with himself.

“I guess I’ll go fishing,” he decided, as he hurried toward home.

Up in his room he had a good pole, lines, hooks and all things
needful. It was the work of only a few minutes to dig some worms in
the garden, catch a grasshopper or two and start for the creek which
flowed about half a mile from the house.

“Bring home enough for supper,” called his mother after her boy, as
Tommy strolled off, with his pole over his shoulder. “Catch some nice
big ones, Tommy, but don’t fall in!”

“I won’t,” he promised, and then he hurried on, whistling a merry
tune, and wondering whether his nine would win the baseball game that
was to be played the following day.

“I wonder if the fellows in Millton have a nine yet,” he said to
himself. “I must write a card to some of the boys, tell them about
our nine, and see if they can play us. I think that would be fun.”




CHAPTER XI

TOMMY IS IN DANGER


“Oh, that’s a dandy!” exclaimed Tommy. “A regular dandy! A few more
like that, and I’ll have enough for supper!”

He had pulled up his line, after having fished for about an hour,
and, dangling from the hook, was a fine, fat chub, a very delicious
white fish.

“No, you don’t!” exclaimed the lad as the fish dropped off the hook
to the grass and tried to flop toward the water. “I can’t lose you
that way!” And he made a grab for his prize. “You’re the biggest one
yet. Wait a minute and I’ll have you in the water again, but you
can’t swim away. Sorry, but it’s got to be,” and he passed a string
through the gills of the fish, and then, fastening one end of the
cord to a stone, Tommy let the big fish and a few other smaller ones
he had previously caught swim about in a little pool.

Tommy once more baited his hook and tossed it into the water. But the
catching of the big chub must have frightened the others, for there
were no more bites for some time.

“Guess this hole is fished out,” remarked Tommy. “I’m going to try
the lower one. If I get one more big fellow, I’ll quit.”

Winding up his line, he took his string of fish and tramped along the
edge of the creek to another fishing hole. There, after putting his
fish in the water to keep them alive and fresh, he sat down on the
bank, baited the hook with a green grasshopper instead of a worm and
awaited results.

They were not long in coming, for in less than two minutes he had
caught a perch about as large as his big chub. And then, instead of
doing as he had said he would, go home, after another fair catch, he
threw in his line again.

“Fishing is good here. I might as well stay a little longer,” he
said. “If I get two more fat ones——”

He stopped suddenly, for he felt a tug on his line, and he pulled in
sharply. To his surprise, a black, heavy body, with short, wriggling
legs, arose from the water.

“Oh, I don’t want you!” exclaimed the lad as he saw that he had
caught a mud turtle. “Now I’ll have a hard time getting my hook out!”

And indeed he did have, for the turtle had all but swallowed the
barb. But finally Tommy managed to cut it out, without hurting the
turtle much. Then he tossed the turtle back into the stream, baited
up afresh and waited patiently for another bite.

It came with a rush about ten minutes later, and proved to be one of
the biggest perches Tommy had ever caught.

“That’s a dandy!” he exclaimed. “I’m glad I came here. I guess I
won’t fish for any more. I’ve got enough. Oh, no, I’ll try for one
more, and if I don’t get it by the time the sun is even with the top
of the oak tree, I’ll go home. I wish some of the fellows would come
along. It’s getting lonesome. They must be out of school by this
time.”

As Tommy went to put his latest catch on the string that held his
other fish, he saw a splashing in a pool of water not far away. The
sun shone on the silver sides of a big fish, as with its tail it
slapped the water.

“That’s queer, a big fish so near shore!” said Tommy to himself, and,
after he had made his own prizes secure, he walked over to see what
had caused the commotion.

“Why, somebody else has been fishing here!” he exclaimed as he saw
two or three fish in a little pool of water. They were strung on a
string, as were his own. “They’ve been fishing and they’ve forgotten
to take ’em away,” he went on. “Nice big ones, too,” he said. “I
wonder whose they are?”

He stooped over to examine the fish, lifting them from the water by
the string. As he did so the cord suddenly broke, and, like flashes
of silver, the beauties dropped into the water and swam away.

“Well, now I _have_ done it!” exclaimed Tommy. “If the fellow who
owns these fish comes along, I’m in——”

“Here! What are you doing there?” suddenly asked a rough voice, and,
looking behind him, Tommy saw Jakie Norton, standing and looking at
him with anger in his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” repeated Jakie.

“Fishing, of course,” answered Tommy, shortly, for he did not like
the way in which the bully talked to him.

“Fishing, eh? And in my place, too. Now you get out of here!”

“I didn’t know this was your special place,” replied Tommy, sturdily,
“and I don’t think you’ve got any more rights here than I have.
Anyhow, I’m done fishing, so I’m going.”

“What have you got there?” suddenly asked Jakie, catching sight of
the string in Tommy’s hand—the string that was now empty of fish.
“What are you doing with my string?” demanded the bully.

“Is—is this your string?” asked Tommy, and he did not know what to
say next. “I—I found it here,” he went on slowly, “and I—er——”

“Where are the fish that were on it?” demanded Jakie, angrily.

“They—well, I guess you didn’t have ’em fastened good!” replied our
hero. “Anyhow, when I lifted ’em up they slipped off, and—well, they
got away.”

“But what right did you have to lift ’em up?” screamed Jakie.

“I wanted to see whose they were.”

“They were mine, that’s whose they were, and I believe you let them
go on purpose!” exclaimed the bully.

“No, I didn’t; honestly,” replied Tommy. “I just lifted ’em up, and
they slipped off the string. It broke, and the end came untied.”

“Oh, it did, eh? Well, maybe that’s so, and maybe it isn’t. Anyhow,
I’m going to take your fish to make things even, and we’ll see
how you’ll like that!” And before Tommy could stop him, Jakie had
scrambled down to the edge of the creek, and had grabbed up Tommy’s
string of fish from the pool between the rocks.

“Huh! You’ve got some good-sized ones,” Jakie said, half admiringly.
“’Most as good as mine were. Well, I’ll take ’em home. They’ll come
in handy for supper.”

“They’re bigger than the fish you had!” cried Tommy, “and there’s
more of ’em. You only had about three. Maybe it was my fault that
your fish got away, but it was an accident. I’ll give you three of
mine to make up for it, but don’t you dare take my whole string!”

“Ha! Don’t you say ‘dare’ to me!” commanded Jakie. “I’ll do as I
please. Get out of my way!” he exclaimed, roughly, as he shoved Tommy
to one side, and hurried up the bank, taking our hero’s string of
fish with him.

“Give me back those fish!” cried Tommy.

“Not to-day,” sneered the bully, and, as Tommy made a grab for them,
Jakie hit him on the chest.

Poor Tommy staggered back. He was not a boy in the habit of fighting,
for his parents, he knew, did not like him to use his fists. Yet he
did not want to be imposed upon. He felt that Jakie could get the
best of him in a fight; still, somehow, Tommy was not afraid.

“Are you going to take my fish?” Tommy asked, quietly, for he thought
Jakie might, after all, be only playing a joke.

“Of course I am,” answered the older boy, sneeringly.

“Then I’m going to take them away from you,” retorted Tommy. “Look
out!”

He was about to make a spring for his antagonist, when he heard
someone approaching through the bushes. Both boys half turned their
heads to see who it was. It might be a friend of either of them.

Jakie was on the alert to run away, for he realized that if one of
Tommy’s friends came along the two boys would more than be a match
for him.

And then the figure that was coming through the bushes came into
view. At the sight of another lad, who quickly advanced, Jakie called
out:

“Hello, Sam! Glad you came. This lad here let my string of fish go,
and when I want to take his string, he says I can’t.”

“It was an accident!” explained Tommy, who had heard about the other
boy—a crony of Jakie’s, and as cruel and mean as the bully himself.
“It was an accident,” insisted Tommy. “I was only looking at his
fish, but I’m willing to give him as many back as he had.”

“Oh, take ’em all, Jakie,” advised Sam Belton, the newcomer, with
a short laugh. “He doesn’t need fish. We’ll divide ’em between us,
Jakie.”

“No, you won’t!” cried Tommy, driven to anger, and he made a move
toward the two boys.

“Say, I believe he wants to fight us!” exclaimed Sam. “Come on,
Jakie, and we’ll throw him in the brook. It’ll do him good.”

Tommy paused. He could swim fairly well, but he knew it would be hard
work with his clothes on. Besides, he did not want to get wet, as his
suit was a good one, and the creek was deep at that point.

“That’s right, we’ll duck him!” agreed Jakie. “I owe him something
for being so fresh about that bat.”

“It was my bat!” cried Tommy, “and those are my fish, and——”

He was going to add something about his shoes being hidden at the
swimming hole, but thought better of it.

“Grab him, and toss him in!” suddenly called Sam, and he and his
crony made a move for Tommy at the same time.

Now, Tommy was not a coward, but, he hastily reflected, he would be
no match for two big boys. It was hardly worth while to be tossed in
the creek for the sake of a few fish, and, even if they did throw
him in, he would not get the fish after all. Besides, there was the
danger of drowning.

“I guess I’ll have to run for it, though I hate to,” decided Tommy.

Now, I hope none of my readers will think less of him for running
away. There are times when it is better to run than to fight,
especially if you are certain why you run. Tommy did not mind a few
hard knocks, and he might even have tackled Jakie or Sam alone. But
the two together were too much for him, and then, too, he did not
want to make his mother worry by coming home wet. So he decided to
run, though it might look cowardly.

Holding his fishing pole firmly, he made a dash for an open place
in the bushes. His two enemies saw his plan at once, and made leaps
toward him.

“He’s trying to skip!” cried Sam.

“Yes, grab him!” added Jakie.

But Tommy’s baseball training served him in good stead, and he was
soon ahead of his pursuers, who came on crashing through the bushes
after him.

“Coward! Coward!” they yelled, tauntingly, but Tommy was no coward,
and they knew it.

“We’ll catch you, and when we do we’ll duck you twice for running!”
yelled Sam.

“You haven’t caught me yet,” reflected Tommy, with a laugh. Somehow,
he did not mind the loss of his fish very much, for Jakie still had
his string of prizes.

Tommy was now running along the bank of the creek, through a grassy
meadow. He could not see his pursuers behind him, but he could hear
them, for he had taken a short cut through the bushes which Joie
Grubb had shown him one day, and this gave him a good start.

Yet he realized that if he did not soon get away the two big boys
would catch him, for they had longer legs than he had, and were much
stronger.

“But if I can get far enough away from the creek they can’t throw me
in unless they carry me back,” reasoned Tommy, “and if they do carry
me, and the fish, they’re going to have their own troubles.”

So on he raced, and he was just thinking that he was well ahead of
the two bullies, when he heard their voices close behind him, though
still he could not see them.

“We’ll have him in another minute!” exclaimed Sam.

“Yes. I’d like to teach him a lesson. The idea of a new boy like him
coming to town and starting a ball team. He’s got too much nerve!”
said Jakie. “Can you see him?”

“No,” answered Sam.

Neither could our hero get a glimpse of the boys who were after him.
He knew that a screen of bushes hid them from him. Somehow or other,
they had gotten ahead of him, and had missed him.

“Oh, if I could only give them the slip!” he exclaimed.

He looked about for a hiding place, and, just ahead of him, he saw
an old grist mill, that had not been used in several years. The boys
often played in it, and it had many “bunks,” or secret hiding places.

“There’s where I’ll go!” exclaimed Tommy to himself. “They’ll never
get me there, and I can get in before they find out that they’re
ahead of me, instead of behind me.”

It only took a few seconds to work his way through the bushes until
he stood within the dim old mill. He could hear the water from the
race splashing down, but the big wheel, which he could see through
a break in the wall, was still. It was an old-fashioned under-shot
wheel, covered with green moss, and Tommy, who always liked
machinery, went closer to look at it.

As he stood near it, wondering how fast it moved when in working
order, he heard voices in the old mill.

“I shouldn’t wonder but what he slipped in here!” he heard Sam say.
The bullies had come back.

“Yes, just as likely as not,” said Jakie. “Well, there is a good
place to duck him here—right in the mill pond.”

“They found out that I’d given them the slip!” thought Tommy,
quickly, “and they’re back after me. Where can I hide?”

He looked about, half in fun at the idea of giving his enemies the
slip, and half in fear lest they catch him and duck him. There seemed
to be no place where he would be safe from their eyes. He looked
about in vain, and was about to run up a pair of rickety stairs,
though he was sure the boys would hear him. He could catch their
footsteps coming nearer and nearer.

“The big mill wheel!” suddenly exclaimed Tommy. “If I could climb up
on that I’d be out of sight. And it ought to be as easy as going up
stairs.”

In fact, the wheel, with its big wooden pockets, or buckets, was not
a hard place up which to scramble, as it was low down.

In another moment Tommy had made a spring for it, and soon he reached
the top.

He was not a moment too soon, either, for just as he crouched down
on the upper rim of the wheel he heard the voices more plainly, and
he realized that his pursuers had entered the main room of the mill,
from which he had just made his escape.

“He isn’t here,” he heard Sam say.

“No. I guess he got away after all. Say, let’s stay here and have
some fun. Did you ever make the mill wheel go around?”

“No; how do you do it?” asked Sam.

“Why, you just raise the wooden gate over by the mill race. That lets
the water from the pond come down the channel, and the wheel turns
over. It’s sport. I did it one day, and the wheel went around in
great shape. Let’s do it.”

“All right,” agreed Sam. “What are you going to do with your fish?”

“I’ll lay ’em down. It’s kind of hard to raise the gate, and let the
water in. It’ll take two of us, I guess, for it’s rusty. But it’s
fun.”

Tommy, lying there on the big water wheel, heard, and, for the
moment, a cold chill went over him. They were going to set in motion
the very wheel on which he was hiding! He would be carried over with
it—down into the whirling, green water, and he might be drowned, or
crushed. He wanted to cry out, to tell them he was there—to ask them
not to turn on the water—but he could not seem to speak.

He could hear them go laughing from the main room of the mill,
laughing between themselves at the fun they were going to have. They
had forgotten about Tommy now.

“I must get down! I must get away!” thought the young baseball
captain.

For a moment it seemed as if he could not move, and then, as he
thought of what might happen, he gave a spring, and tried to slide
down over the outer edge of the wheel to the mill floor.

To his surprise and terror, he could move only a few inches. One of
his feet had caught in a corner of one of the buckets, and he was
held fast there.

“I’m caught! caught!” gasped Tommy.

Vainly he struggled to free himself. Then, from somewhere in another
part of the mill, he heard the splashing of water, and it seemed to
him that the wheel on which he was held fast was slowly moving.

“Oh, what shall I do?” gasped poor Tommy. “How can I get out of this?”

Louder splashed the water, and the big wheel moved more quickly now,
while Tommy could hear the laughter of the two boys, as they opened
the water gate wider and wider.




CHAPTER XII

TOMMY SAVES HIS ENEMY


Tommy Tiptop was thinking quickly. He was a plucky lad, and he did
not give up hope in the face of danger. But he could not seem to help
himself.

Again and again he tried to loosen his foot from where it was caught
in a crack in the wheel, but he could not get free. He knew what
would happen soon. The water, which came into a sort of long, wooden
box, from the mill pond, ran underneath the big wheel, and, by
striking on the wooden buckets or pockets, turned the wheel over,
and had thus, in the times when the mill was running, moved the
grindstones.

“I’ll be carried over until I get on the bottom,” thought Tommy, “and
then I’ll be drowned, or crushed.”

He was not mistaken. The wheel was moving slowly, and he realized
that only a part of the force of water was, as yet, striking the
buckets. As the boys opened the gate wider, more water would come in
the long, narrow box, and the wheel would turn over faster.

“If I could only untie my shoe, and slip my foot out!” thought Tommy.
He had once read of a boy who got his foot caught in a switch on a
railroad track. The lad pulled and tugged, but his foot was held
fast, and a train was approaching at great speed.

Suddenly that boy had unlaced his shoe, pulled out his foot, and
saved himself. Tommy made up his mind to try the same trick. He
leaned forward to get at the laces, but he found that he could not
reach them in the position in which he was held.

“That won’t do,” he decided. He could still hear Sam and Jakie at the
water gate. They seemed to be having some trouble raising it.

And then another thought came to our hero. He must shout for help.
Why had he not thought of that before? The two boys who had raced
after him, though mean bullies, would not want him to be seriously
hurt. They had only meant to have fun with him in their rough, cruel
way, and they had no idea that he was fast on the mill wheel.

“I’ll call to them!” decided Tommy, and, somehow, though it was to
save his life, he almost disliked to do it. But there was no help for
it. The wheel was moving faster now.

“Help! Help!” sung out Tommy. “I’m on the mill wheel! Caught fast!
Turn off the water! Help! Help!”

He waited a moment, hoping for an answer.

None came. He could still hear the splashing of the water and the
laughter and shouts of the two boys in a distant part of the mill.

“They can’t hear me!” thought Tommy. This idea caused him to make
harder efforts than before to loosen his foot, but he could not. Then
he called again.

“Help! Help! I’m on the mill wheel!”

There was a sudden rush of water, so loud that it almost smothered
Tommy’s cries in his own ears, and he knew that he could scarcely be
heard ten feet away. At the same time the wheel gave a sudden lurch
and swung far over. Tommy could see down below him a dark tunnel,
filled with foaming, rushing water.

“Help! Help!” he cried, desperately.

[Illustration: _“Did You—Did You Save Me?” Asked Tommy._]

Then he saw something else. It was a man—a man in rather ragged
clothes, who sprang into the mill through one of the broken windows.
The man made a rush for the wheel. Tommy closed his eyes, wishing it
was all a dream, and that he would awaken safe in bed.

He heard the rushing of waters louder now, and above them a man’s
voice seemed to shout:

“Why, it’s Tommy Tiptop! Who started that wheel? I’ve got to stop it!”

Something hit Tommy on the head, and everything got black around him.
There was a roaring in his ears, and when he opened his eyes he found
himself staring up toward the dusty beams of the ceiling of the old
mill. He knew that he was being held in the arms of someone, and,
when he turned his head, he saw the kindly face of Old Johnny Green
bending over him.

“Did you—did you save me?” asked Tommy.

“I did, and just in time,” answered the old man. “What did you want
to get up there for, and who started the wheel?”

Tommy told everything that had happened, from the time he went
fishing until Sam and Jakie had chased him, and he had taken to the
wheel for refuge, being caught there.

“But how did you shut off the water in time?” asked Tommy.

“By pulling on that handle there,” replied Johnny Green, pointing to
one near the wheel. “That’s what it’s there for, to stop the wheel
suddenly in case of danger, when you haven’t time to run and close
down the water gate. And I didn’t have time.

“I was passing the mill, when I heard the water coming down the
flume. I knew some one must have turned it on, so I came in to see
about it. I like to come to the old mill. I used to work here when I
was a young man.

“Well, I saw you on the wheel, and I got in front of you on the big
platform. As you turned around you sort of fell over toward me, and I
grabbed you, but your head hit on a stick of wood. Then I pulled you
toward me. I guess I must have yanked your foot out of the hole where
it was caught. Then I carried you over here. You had fainted, so I
got some water to put on your face, and I shut off the wheel.”

“I’m ever so much obliged to you,” said Tommy, and, somehow, it did
not seem very much to say to the man who had saved his life. “Where
are Sam and Jakie?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” answered Johnny Green. “They run away, I guess, after
they started the wheel. Just like boys, though I don’t suppose they
really thought they had put you in danger. That’s just like boys,
too. Are you all right, Tommy?”

“I guess so. My head aches.”

“That’s where you were hit. But come on, I’ll take you home. Next
time don’t get on the mill wheel.”

Tommy promised that he would not. He was quite shaky, and besides the
pain in his head, his ankle hurt where it had been caught in a hole
in the wheel.

“I wonder if I’ll be able to play ball to-morrow?” he asked of Old
Johnny Green, as they walked along.

“Play ball! Well, I declare! You boys beat all! Here you’ve been
close to being badly hurt, to say the least, and the first thing you
think of is baseball.”

“But I’m the captain of the team,” explained Tommy. “I have to be
there. I wonder if I can run on this ankle,” and he was about to try
a little sprint, when the old man caught him by the arm.

“None of that, Tommy!” he exclaimed. “If you are going to play ball
you don’t want to strain your ankle until you have to. Just take it
easy—go home and rest.”

“Will you come home with me?” asked Tommy, “and—and tell my mother
how it happened—how you saved me?”

“Well, yes, if you want me to,” agreed Johnny Green, slowly, “though
I’m not much on calling to folks’ houses. My clothes don’t look very
good,” he added.

“My mother doesn’t care for clothes,” declared Tommy.

You may well imagine there was some excitement in the Tiptop
household when Tommy’s story was told. And you may also well imagine
that Old Johnny Green was thanked over and over again, for the part
he had played.

When Sam and Jakie learned how narrowly Tommy had escaped, they were
very much frightened, and their fathers came over to tell Mr. Tiptop
that they had punished their sons, though the boys had said that they
did not know Tommy was on the wheel when they started it, and this
was true.

Mr. Tiptop was rather stern about the matter, and told how Jakie had
often done mean things, and Mr. Norton promised to see if he could
not make his boy behave himself in the future.

Though a bit stiff, Tommy was able to play ball the next day, and his
nine won from another composed of lads about their own age, from a
nearby town.

“Oh, we’ve got a fine team!” cried Tommy. But, alas! the very next
week they met defeat, and at the hands of a team younger than
themselves.

Tommy was much downcast and nothing his chums could say made him feel
better.

“We’ve got to practice more!” he declared, and from then on, nearly
every afternoon when school was out, the lads met on the lot, and had
practice at batting and catching, sometimes playing a scrub game.

In the meanwhile, neither Sam nor Jakie bothered Tommy any more,
though, occasionally, Jakie made sneering remarks.

Tommy spent all his spare time at baseball, and his mother said he
even talked it in his sleep. But he was very enthusiastic about it,
and so was every member of his team.

Only about half the nine had uniforms, and Tommy’s dearest wish was
to get them all fitted out. But some of the boys were too poor to
afford the suits.

“I wonder how we could make a little extra cash?” asked Herbert Kress.

“Why not give a show?” suggested Georgie Pennington.

“What kind?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, a minstrel show, or an Indian one. We fellows could do the
acting. We could have it in my barn, I guess, and charge a nickel
admission, and ten cents for reserve seats. I was in a show with some
other fellows once, and we made five dollars.”

“Say, it would be great if we could do that!” exclaimed Tommy. “We
could get the rest of the suits then.”

It was a few days after this, and Tommy was thinking hard on the
subject of giving a show, when his mother asked him to take a message
for her, late one afternoon, to a lady who lived a short distance out
of town, on a country road. It was something about a meeting of a new
society of women, which Mrs. Tiptop had joined.

Tommy completed his errand, and he was trudging along toward home,
munching a piece of cake the lady had given him, when, from behind
him, he heard a shout of terror.

Looking back, he saw a horse running along the road, dragging
something after him in the dust. And it was from this something that
the shouts were coming.

Tommy felt his heart beating fast. He recognized the voice as that of
his enemy, Jakie Norton, who was in great danger.

“Oh, I’ve got to save him!” gasped our hero.

The horse was coming on rapidly, swaying the unfortunate lad from
side to side in the dust. Tommy did not know much about stopping
runaway horses, and he was too small to reach up and try to grasp the
bridle, even if he had dared do such a thing. But he remembered once
he had seen a man stand in front of a runaway team, and, by holding
out his arms, turn them aside into a light wooden fence, where they
came to a halt.

“I’m going to try that way!” exclaimed Tommy to himself. He stood in
the middle of the road. The horse was near to him now, but the boy it
was dragging no longer shouted.

“Whoa! Whoa there!” yelled Tommy, waving his arms up and down.

The horse snorted in terror, and then suddenly swerved to one side,
almost running into the fence. He came to a halt and then Tommy acted
quickly.

In a flash he had his pocket knife out, with the big blade newly
sharpened, and, while the horse stood close to the fence, trembling
in fright, the small lad slipped around and cut the lines loose from
the foot of Jakie, around which they were caught. And it was done
not a moment too soon, for, an instant later, the horse started off
again.




CHAPTER XIII

TOMMY GIVES A SHOW


“Are you much hurt, Jakie? How did it happen? Is your head cut?”

Tommy asked these questions of the lad, who lay so still and quiet on
the grass at the side of the roadway. He tried to lift Jakie’s head,
but it fell back, very limp at the neck.

“I—I guess he’s badly hurt,” murmured Tommy, and then he heard
someone running toward him. It was a man, from a nearby farmhouse.

“Say, you did the right thing!” the man exclaimed. “I saw you turn
that horse. Who is he?” and he pointed to Jakie.

Tommy told the name, also giving his own.

At that moment Jakie opened his eyes. Then he caught sight of Tommy.

“Did—did you stop that horse?” he asked, slowly.

Tommy nodded. Somehow, he was more glad at having done Jakie a good
turn than he would have been had he taken revenge on him for some of
the mean things the bully had done to him.

“Indeed, he did stop it!” exclaimed the farmer. “It was as plucky a
thing as I ever saw. Then, before the animal had a chance to drag you
along farther, he cut the lines. It was done good and proper, and you
can thank your lucky stars that you aren’t hurt any worse than you
are.”

“I want to thank him,” said Jakie, suddenly holding out his hand to
Tommy. “Say,” he went on, awkwardly, “will you—I mean I’m sorry for
what I did to you—I didn’t mean——”

“Do you think you can go home?” asked Tommy, of the lad who had been
his enemy.

“If you can’t I’ll hitch up and drive you in,” promised the farmer.

“Oh, I’m all right,” insisted Jakie. “Just a little dizzy. I can
walk.”

“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Tommy.

For a while, as they walked along, there was an awkward silence
between the boys. They did not know what to say to each other. Jakie
wanted to tell Tommy how he regretted being so mean, and Tommy did
not want to make his new friend feel badly by letting him do it.

“Do you think you can manage to walk home?” asked Tommy, at length,
to start some talk.

“Oh, yes. Say, how is your ball nine coming on?”

“Pretty good. We play every Saturday, and sometimes in the middle of
the week. Have you seen our diamond?”

“Yes, and it’s pretty good for kids—I mean for boys like you to fix
up,” and Jakie corrected himself quickly. “It’s a good back-stop you
have.”

“Yes, Old Johnny Green helped us make it.”

“Humph! He’s the man who saved you from the water wheel. Say, I’m
real sorry about that. Sam and I never dreamed you were on it, and——”

“Oh, I know,” interrupted Tommy, quickly. “Don’t worry about that.
I—can’t we—that is, can’t we be friends?” he asked. “I—er—that is——”

“Say, will you?” asked Jakie, eagerly. “I would like to be friends
with you. It was all my fault, and——”

“It was partly mine, too,” went on Tommy. “I—I guess I shouldn’t have
got so mad that time you took my bat.”

“Honestly, that was only a joke,” explained Jakie. “I saw you were a
new boy in town, and I wanted to have some fun with you.”

“Then it’s all right,” answered the young captain. “Come to our games
sometimes,” he invited. “Of course, we’re not very good players, but
we have lots of fun.”

“Sure I’ll come. Say, you’ve got quite a nine, I think. Have all the
lads got uniforms?”

“No, and I wish they did have. We have some challenges from a lot of
uniformed teams, and our boys don’t look good next to the fellows
with suits on. But we haven’t the money yet, and some of the lads
can’t raise the cash themselves. We’re going to have a show soon, and
try to make some money.”

“Are you? Say, that’s a good way.”

The boys walked on in silence for some little distance farther, and
though Jakie was very lame and stiff, and had a number of bruises,
his heavy clothing, and the fact that the road was covered with a
layer of soft dust, had saved him from a serious injury.

“I’m going to stop at Mr. Armstrong’s on my way home,” he said, after
a while, “and ask if the horse got back all right. He might think it
was my fault.”

The horse was back in his stable when Tommy and Jakie reached the
Armstrong farmhouse, and Mr. Armstrong, very much worried by the
return of the steed alone, and by the cut ends of the line, was about
to start off in search of Jakie.

As Tommy and his new friend were proceeding on toward their homes,
the larger lad turned suddenly to his companion, and asked:

“Say, wouldn’t you fellows like to take my moving-picture magic
lantern for your show?”

“Say! I just guess we would!” cried Tommy, in delight. “But it’s a
big machine, isn’t it? It might get damaged.”

“I’ll take a chance,” replied Jakie, good-naturedly. “I’ll run it for
you myself, if you’ll let me. I’d like to do you some favor for what
you did for me to-day.”

“Thanks,” answered Tommy. “It would be fine if you’d run the lantern.
I’ve been wondering if we could get up anything good enough to charge
ten cents admission for, and the lantern will be just the thing.”

“I’ve got some good funny views,” went on Jakie.

“Then come over to my house to-night,” invited Tommy, “and we’ll talk
about it. Some of the other boys are going to be there.”

And from then on, for a week or more, the activities of Tommy were
equally divided between baseball and the coming show. In fact, he
gave more time to the show, which seemed as if it was going to be
a good one—that is, if enough of the boys were left to make up an
audience.

Finally, the afternoon of the performance came. It was on a Saturday,
when there was no ball game, and the show was to be given again in
the evening.

I haven’t the space to tell you all about it, but I will say that it
was a great success. Tommy, as a clown, created much laughter, and
when the boys did a scene from a dentist’s office, behind a sheet,
with a light so arranged as to make shadow pictures, the audience
laughed again and again.

The moving-picture machine, operated by Jakie, more than came up to
expectations, for some really good views were shown. The performance
came to a close by a grand finale in which “the full strength of the
company” was used, to quote from the pencil-printed handbills.

The show was given again at night, when a larger crowd came,
including a number of men and women, who had been teased into it by
their boys and girls, who had been to the afternoon performance.

“Well, how did we make out?” asked Teddy of Tommy that night, when
the last act had been given.

“Pretty well, I guess,” answered the young captain, as he counted
over the money. “Here’s a nickel with a hole in!” he exclaimed. “I
wonder who passed that on us?”

“Oh, never mind,” said Teddy. “We can get four cents for it almost
anywhere. How much did we make?”

“Five dollars and fourteen cents,” announced Tommy, after adding up
some figures on a piece of paper. “It would have been five-fifteen
only for that plugged nickel.”

“Then we can all have uniforms!” exclaimed Frank Bonder, who was one
of the lads who could not afford a suit. He had worked hard for the
show, however, and had sold seventy-five cents’ worth of tickets.

“Sure we’ll have the uniforms,” decided Tommy. “It was great, and
that moving-picture machine was best of all. We’re much obliged to
you, Jakie.”

“Oh, that’s all right. I’m going to get some new views, and I’ll help
you out next time you have a show.”

“That’s fine!” exclaimed the lads in a chorus, and Jakie felt his
heart warmly glowing. It was nice, he thought, to have so many new
friends.




CHAPTER XIV

TOMMY MEETS OLD FRIENDS


“Here’s a letter for you, Tommy!” said his mother one Saturday
morning, when the postman had stopped on his usual round.

“For me?” exclaimed her son. “Is it from Freeport?”

“No, it’s from where we used to live. Why, were you expecting a
letter from Freeport?”

“Yes, we challenged the Ramblers from there to another game, and they
haven’t answered it. But I wonder who is writing to me from Millton?”

“It looks like some boy,” replied Mrs. Tiptop, as she handed the
letter to Tommy.

It did not take him long to read it, and then he cried out:

“Say, momsey, this is great news! It’s a challenge from the Millton
Junior Athletes! They’ve got a ball nine, and they want to play my
team. Oh, say, this will be fun!”

“I didn’t know there was a nine in Millton—that is, a small team,”
said Mrs. Tiptop. “There wasn’t one when you were there.”

“I tried to start one,” spoke Tommy, “but we moved away too soon.
But Dan Danforth, George Squire, Patsie Cook, Billy Newhouse, Pete
Johnson and some of the others have a regular nine now. And they have
uniforms, Dan writes me. He wants to come here for a game. Oh, I’m
glad our team all have suits now! I must write to Dan and tell him to
come on, and we’ll beat his nine.”

The Riverdale Roarers lost their game of ball that day. Some of
them said afterward that the umpire was unfair to them, and others
admitted that the Hightstown boys were the better players. Tommy was
inclined to believe the last.

“We’ve got to play better than this two weeks from Saturday,” he said
after the lost game.

“Why?” asked Teddy.

“Because a team of fellows from Millton, where I used to live, is
coming here. I’ve just _got_ to beat ’em!”

“We’ll help you!” exclaimed Billie, eagerly. “But who do we play this
Saturday week?”

“The Ramblers from Freeport. They have a new pitcher, too, and he can
curve like anything, I hear.”

“Then we’ll have to do more practicing,” declared Sammie Sandlass.
Nearly everyone else thought the same thing, and, beginning with the
following Monday afternoon, some hard scrub games took place on the
field diamond.

The boys who had, up to this time, no uniforms, were provided with
suits for the Rambler game, and though they did not all match, having
been bought at different times in different places, still they made
the team look very shipshape.

The “R. R.” device in red, worked on the shirts of all the suits,
showed up bravely in the sun, as the lads trotted out to do a little
practicing before the game.

“Now, boys, go in and win!” begged Tommy.

“Sure we will!” they cried in a chorus.

Whether it was the new uniforms, or because the Ramblers made up
their minds not to be beaten a second time, was not made plain, but
certainly Tommy’s team met with another defeat, though not by a very
large score.

“I declare, it’s too bad!” exclaimed Georgie Pennington, who had
muffed a ball and been responsible for letting the winning run come
in. “I don’t see how it happened.”

“Oh, we’re all right!” exclaimed Teddy. “We’ll whitewash the Millton
Juniors.”

The day of the great game came. At least Tommy always called it the
“great” game. It was beautiful weather, just right for baseball, and
the diamond had been put in extra good shape.

“When are your old friends coming, Tommy?” asked his mother, as tired
from practice, but happy and confident, her son came home to dinner.

“About one o’clock, on the trolley. I’m going to meet them.”

Several of his team accompanied the young captain to the point where
the challenging members would leave the trolley. It was a sort of
welcoming committee.

“Guess this must be their car,” spoke Tommy, after several electric
vehicles had gone past without bringing the nine. “Yes, there they
are!” he added as he caught sight of the heads of several lads thrust
from the open windows.

“There he is!”

“Nice uniforms they got!”

“We’re a bigger team than they are.”

“Hello, Tommy Tiptop! How are you?”

“Glad to see you!”

These were only a few of the many expressions that were yelled forth
as the car came to a stop. The next minute Tommy was in the midst
of his former boy friends of Millton, laughing, talking and shaking
hands with them.




CHAPTER XV

TOMMY TASTES VICTORY


“Play ball!” called the umpire, a tall lad, a bit older than any of
the players. Tommy and Dan Danforth, the rival captains, had decided
that an older lad’s decisions would stand better than those given by
a small youth. “Play ball!”

“Now, Tommy, show ’em how you strike ’em out!” called Sammie Sandlass.

“Yes, nothing less than a whitewash!” added Teddy Bunker. It was all
in good-natured fun, and no one minded it.

“We’ll get all the runs we need this inning, and then we can take it
easy the rest of the game,” predicted Captain Dan.

“Yes, we’ll see what kind of a wooden arm Tommy has,” put in George
Squire.

“Come on! Play ball! Play ball!” advised the umpire.

Tommy sent in as swift a ball as he could, and he was quite delighted
when Pete Johnson, the first one of the Juniors at bat, missed it.

“I guess I can curve, after all, eh?” asked the pitcher.

[Illustration: _Tommy and His Mates Disagreed With the Decision of
the Umpire._]

“That was an accident. I’ll hit the next one,” declared Pete, and he
did, getting to first base. Patsie Cook made a foul and got out, and
Billy Newhouse ran for first, only to be put out there, as he had
not hit the ball far enough. But Dan Danforth brought in Pete from
third base, with the first run of the game, and the Roarers felt a
little downcast at the start their rivals made. However, that was all
the visitors scored in their half of the first inning.

“Now to see what we can do!” exclaimed Tommy, and to his delight his
side got two runs. Then there was a discussion about a boy being put
out at home. Tommy and his mates disagreed with the decision of the
umpire.

“Say, if you don’t give in, I’ll quit!” declared the boy who was
calling strikes and balls.

“Oh, well, we’ll give it, but he wasn’t out!” insisted Tommy.

“Oh, we’ll snow you under!” declared Dan, with a laugh.

From then on the home team played very poor ball, until in the eighth
inning the score was ten to six in favor of the visitors, when
Tommy’s nine came in for their half of that inning.

“Four to tie and five to win!” cried Tommy.

“We never can do it!” declared Teddy, sorrowfully.

“Yes, we can—we’ve just _got_ to!” exclaimed the young captain.

It looked, too, as if they might, for they got three runs without a
player being out.

“Oh, we’re going through without any trouble!” exulted Tommy. And
then his lads got tired and could not hit well, while the other boys
did some pretty fielding work.

“We must get that one run!” cried Tommy, but it was not to be, and
when the ninth inning opened the score was ten runs to nine in favor
of the visitors.

“And here is where we go out!” declared Dan, as his first player
stepped to the stone that marked home plate.

“I’ve just got to pitch for all I’m worth!” thought Tommy,
desperately. And he did. Somehow he managed to strike out the two
first boys in quick succession. Then the next one hit what was the
best ball of that day. He got to third base on it, and if he had been
a little quicker he would have gone home.

“Play for the batter,” advised Teddy, who was catching, and Tommy
nodded his head, to show that he understood. If they could get the
batter out, the run would not come in, and the Roarers would still
have a chance to win, as they had the last chance at bat.

“Three balls!” called the umpire, after there had been two strikes
named.

“If the next one is a ball, he’ll take his base,” reflected Tommy,
“and the next boy up is a heavy hitter. I’ve got to strike him out. I
_must_ do it!”

And he did. How it thrilled him to hear the umpire shout:

“Three strikes—batter out!” for the ball was safe in Teddy’s big mitt.

“Now to win!” cried Tommy, as his side came in.

There was a dispute on the part of the visitors, but the umpire held
to his decision.

The visitors worked hard to hold the lead they had, but the home team
was desperate.

“Fellows, you’ve never played better!” cried Tommy. “Go in now and
win!”

Sammie Sandlass was up first, and, though he never was a very good
hitter, he managed to knock what was only a two-bagger, but on which
he got to third, as the boy trying to catch the ball muffed it.

“Now a home run, and the game is ours!” cried Tommy, as Frank Bonder
came up. Frank was not usually very reliable, but this time he
surprised all his friends.

“Go on! Go on!”

“Home run!”

“Come on in, Sammie!”

Everybody was yelling as the ball sailed down the field after Frank
hit it. Oh, how he ran! Faster and faster, trying to beat the boy
after the ball!

Sammie was safe at home now, with the run that tied the score, and
Frank was coming. It was a close race, but Frank won.

“How’s that?” demanded the visiting catcher as he stood over Frank,
who was down in the dust.

“Safe!” said the umpire.

“Never!” yelled the team from Millton.

“Sure he’s safe!” insisted Tommy. “Anyhow, if he isn’t, it’s only one
out; the game is tied, and we have two more chances.”

“He’s safe,” declared the umpire, and the visitors had to allow it.
That made the score eleven to ten in favor of the home team. Tommy’s
nine had won the victory which he most desired. It was great!

“All right, I guess you win,” admitted Dan, after a discussion.
“Well, Tommy, you defeated us. You’ve got a fine team and a good
diamond.”

“Well, we worked hard for it,” said Tommy. “We’ll play you again next
year. We’re champions now! Hurrah!”

“Are you going to have the same nine?” asked Dan.

“Yes, or one like it, and, say, I’m going to have a lot of fun this
fall and winter,” he went on. “There are a fine crowd of boys in this
town.”

“There sure are,” agreed Dan. And those of you who are interested in
the future fortunes of Tommy may read of what he did that fall in
the book to follow this, to be called “Tommy Tiptop and His Football
Eleven; or, A Great Victory and How It Was Won.” And after the
football season Tommy continued to be active, as he always was. I am
going to tell you what he did after the eleven was disbanded, in the
third book of the series, to be called “Tommy Tiptop and His Winter
Sports; or, Jolly Times on the Ice and in Camp.”

Over the diamond thronged the boys of the two teams, cheering each
other, laughing and shouting. Of course Dan’s team felt badly at
losing the game, but they were glad Tommy had won, for they were
quite proud of him.

“Well played, youngsters!” exclaimed Mr. Fillmore, who with his
friend, the hardware man, was at the game. “Well played! It was worth
seeing!”

Tommy Tiptop felt very proud and happy.

“Oh, but you are so dirty!” exclaimed his mother, who with Nellie,
and some of her daughter’s girl friends, had come to the contest. “So
dirty and hot!”

“That doesn’t matter, mother. We won! We won!” cried Tommy.

And now, as he is marching across the diamond with his friends, old
and new, in their baseball suits, cheering and laughing, we will take
leave of Tommy Tiptop.


THE END




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  Transcriber’s Notes

  pg 64 Changed: asked Tommy of Saliie
             to: asked Tommy of Sallie

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