Fast Nine: or, A Challenge from Fairfield. Douglas Alan Captain
leader of the Wolf Patrol laughed softly when Lil Artha put this question at him so directly.
"I really meant to tell you all about it," he said, "but somehow it just seemed to slip my mind, we've been having such a jolly afternoon. Fact is, Matt being over in the Ridge on some business for his father, jumped off his wheel at seeing me, because he had some important news."
"Has he got his troop organized, then?" asked Lil Artha.
"That's just what he has; seventeen fellows have already signed the roll, with a promise of several more. That makes two complete patrols, and then some. Matt says they're wild over it in his town. The people are going to let them have a room in the old Baptist church, and everybody promises to help along. I reckon the good people of Fairfield understand that the coming of the Boy Scouts will mean a moral awakening in their place."
"And they need it, all right," declared Chatz, positively. "Why, suh, I'm told that during the last seven yeahs Fairfield, that used to be a model town, has become the toughest place in this part of the state. And the way Matt Tubbs led his gang has been the main cause. It was a rule or ruin policy. If they couldn't win a baseball game squarely they'd start a little riot, and have the umpire give it to 'em, nine to nothing."
"Well, I rather think that's all in the past," said Elmer. "If Matt does half he declares he means to do, it's going to be the biggest thing that ever happened for the boys of Fairfield and Cramertown. And something more, fellows. I just rather guess we'd better be brushing up all we know of the great American national game of baseball. For Matt says he and his team are going to challenge the Hickory Ridge scouts to a big game."
"Hear, hear!" shouted Lil Artha, executing a regular hoedown to prove how joyful the news made him. "Why, fellows, d'ye know I'm just wild to get in the game again against a club that really counts. All we've done this summer has been to mow down the little chaps around the Ridge, and it was too easy. Matt will put a team in the field worth beating, and we all know what a player he is himself when he wants to do the right thing. So I say bully, bully all around!"
"Do you think his turning over a new leaf will hold good," asked Chatz; "or is he apt to drop back into his old ways if we happen to get a good lead, and bully the umpire into giving his side all the chances?"
"Well, of course I couldn't say for sure," replied Elmer, "but Matt seems dead set on cutting a straight swathe from now on, and there's the best chance of his doing it that ever happened, because he has simply got to choose between doing the square thing to others or getting out of the scout movement. No crooked work will go when a fellow has faithfully promised to be trustworthy, loyal, helpful to others, friendly, courteous, kind, obedient to his superiors, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent."
"You're right, it won't, Elmer," assented Mark, positively. "And yet if Matt has changed right-about face, so that he can live up to that agreement I'm ready to believe the world is coming to an end."
"Me, too!" echoed Lil Artha, who had had several personal conflicts with the bully of Fairfield, and distrusted him exceedingly.
"Just wait and see," said Elmer; and the subject was dropped as they hurried on toward the lights of Hickory Ridge that began to appear near by.
CHAPTER II.
A STARTLING ACCUSATION
"Now, what d'ye suppose that fellow in the carriage is beckoning to us for, Elmer?" asked Mark Cummings, as he and his particular chum were walking along the main street of Hickory Ridge on the morning after the fishing trip.
They had been looking up a few things in one of the stores, for Mark chanced to be the grandson of a noted artist, and had himself developed a touch of genius along the line of caricature work. Often when he and his chums were together, he would pull out pencil and paper and dash off some telling and humorous drawing. If a pencil were not handy Mark could use a crayon, a bit of chalk or charcoal, and even a piece of fresh birch bark in case paper were lacking.
And so he had been picking up a few things in his line, while Elmer interested himself advising Lil Artha, who was selecting some plates for his new camera, as well as developing fluid, prepared paper, and several other necessities required by the amateur photographer devoted to his work.
The two boys had started home together, and were in the midst of an animated conversation connected with the chances for that baseball game before the summer vacation ended, when Mark chanced to hear some one calling.
"Why, it looks to me like Colonel Hitchins's rig," remarked Elmer, who possibly knew the vehicle in question better than his chum. "Yes, I know it is now, and the negro driver is Sam White, his coachman. He seems to be beckoning to us, as sure as anything. I wonder what he wants, and if it has anything to do with Diablo, the educated monkey we had all that fun with when we were in camp up on Jupiter Lake?"
"That's so, Elmer; will I ever forget what happened there, and how glad Colonel Hitchins was to get his tricky pet back, after he had robbed us of a lot of our good grub. But Sam White has started his horses this way. Let's wait here and see what he's got to say."
Colonel Hitchins was an eccentric and wealthy man who lived beyond the environments of Hickory Ridge. He had once been a great traveler, and his big house was filled with trophies from every land. It was a treat for Elmer to examine some of the almost numberless things the collector had gathered around him. And as a rule the colonel was favorably disposed toward the boys of Hickory Ridge, though there were times when some of the more malicious chaps annoyed him greatly in various ways.
Presently Sam White pulled the two prancing horses in close to the sidewalk.
"Whoa, dar, youse high falutin' thoroughbr'ds from Kentucky! I reckons you dun gits too much oats, dat's what; an' hit makes yuh too frisky. You am de boy belongin' tuh de Cummings fambly, ain't yuh, an' yuh name am Mark, I spect?" was the way the colored driver proclaimed his advent on the scene.
"Sure, I'm Mark Cummings, and you know it as well as you do your own name, Sam. What's doing now?" remarked the boy, smiling.
"Why, yuh see, de kunnel he sez tuh me, sez he: 'Sam, ef so be yuh sot yuh eyes on dat Mark Cummings, I'd like yuh tuh ask him tuh come up hyah right away, 'case I wants tuh see him!' Dat's wat de kunnel say tuh me," the driver explained.
Mark glanced at his chum with raised eyebrows.
"What d'ye suppose it means, Elmer?" he asked, in bewilderment.
The other shook his head in the negative, as though unable to hazard a guess.
"It might stand for any one of a dozen things," he observed. "You know the colonel takes a heap of interest in the boys of the Ridge. Perhaps he wants to make some offer to them that will be to their interest. Perhaps he may even intend to ask the scouts over to his house some night, and give them a great time. It would be just like him, you know."
"Yes," replied Mark, smiling, "but in that case why send for me? You're the assistant scout master, and Mr. Garrabrant is in town right now, so he ought to be the one consulted. But I suppose I'd better jump in and go along. Say, what's to hinder you coming with me, Elmer?"
"Nothing that I know of," replied his chum. "And I don't suppose Sam here would have any objections to my taking a ride with you. He knows I've been to see the colonel heaps of times."
Sam scratched his woolly pate, as if bewildered, and looked dubious.
"De kunnel he sez dat Mark Cummings boy, sah, but seein' as it's you, I reckon it'd be all right. So jes' step in kindly, as de hosses am a bit peeved dis yar mawnin', an' wants tuh run dey haids off."
Accordingly the two chums entered the big open carriage, Mark laying his several packages down beside him. And in another minute they were being carried at a spanking pace toward the fine estate of Colonel Hitchins.
On the way they speculated along other lines as to what the gentleman wished to see Mark about, but without being able to come to any conclusion. But never suspecting that it could be anything serious they presently allowed the subject to drop.
Turning in at the entrance to the grounds they passed along a drive where one could see the fancy fruit trees of which the owner was so proud.
"Looks like