Four in Camp: A Story of Summer Adventures in the New Hampshire Woods. Barbour Ralph Henry
prolonging the trip by going around Bass Island, with the result that they navigated most of the upper end of the lake before they reached their destination. Dan was evidently on his best behavior, for the trip was completed without misadventure, and they got back to camp just as assembly sounded.
After that Nelson and Dan saw a good deal of each other, and the more they were together the more Nelson liked the big, handsome, red-headed fellow with the clear blue eyes, and began to understand him better. There wasn’t a grain of meanness in his make-up. The jokes he was forever playing were usually harmless enough, and served as outlets for an oversupply of animal spirits. Nelson thought he had never seen a fellow more full of life, more eager for adventure and fun, than Dan. He would go almost any length to secure a laugh, even if it was against himself, and toil for days at a time to bring about an event promising excitement. He seemed to be absolutely without fear, and no one ever saw him really angry.
Nelson’s liking for Dan was not, however, altogether shared by Bob, who dubbed Dan’s tricks and jokes “kiddish,” and usually treated him with a sort of contemptuous indifference. As a rule he avoided Dan’s society, and finally Nelson was torn between his allegiance to Bob and his liking for Dan. Affairs stood thus when, about two weeks after Nelson’s arrival, the election of captain of the baseball team came off, and Dan played a card which, if it did not at once gain Bob’s friendship, at least commanded his gratitude.
At camp-fire Mr. Clinton announced that he had received a note from Camp Wickasaw asking when Chicora would be ready to arrange a series of ball games with them.
“Last year,” said the Chief, “as those of you know who were here then, Wickasaw won all three games from us. There’s no disgrace in being beaten, but it’s lots more fun to beat. So this year let’s see if we can’t do better. They have fewer fellows than we have, and last year we allowed them to play their councilors. I guess it was that that beat us. But it was only fair, and unless you fellows object they will make use of the same privilege this year. How about it?” and Mr. Clinton looked about the fire-lit group questioningly.
“Let them use them, sir,” exclaimed one of the boys. “We can beat them anyhow.”
“That’s so, sir; and there’ll be more glory in it,” said another.
And a chorus of assent arose.
“All right,” said Mr. Clinton. “Now we ought to get things fixed up so that we can arrange dates with Wickasaw and the other nines. There will be the Mount Pleasant team to deal with, and I suppose there will be a nine at the Inn as usual. And I guess we can arrange some games with the Camp Trescott fellows. I propose to supply bats and balls and such things, as I did last year. We’ll need one new base-bag, too.”
“I think that one can be fixed up all right, sir, with some sawdust, and a piece of canvas to patch it with,” said Bob.
“Well, we’ll have a look at it. If it can’t, we’ll send for a new one. We’ll have to have some balls and bats, anyhow. We’ve got two masks and a protector left from last summer. Is there anything else?”
“We ought to have some mitts,” said Carter.
“Seems to me the fellows ought to buy those themselves,” Dan announced.
“Well, I’ll get some,” said the Chief. “If any one wants to have his own, he can. Now, how about choosing a captain? Shall we do that here to-night, or had you rather wait?”
“To-night!” “Now!” were the cries.
“Very well; suppose you nominate your candidates, and we’ll have a rising vote.”
Much laughter and whispering ensued. Then Dan was on his feet.
“Mr. Clinton,” he began.
“Mr. Chairman,” some one corrected.
“And gentlemen of the convention,” added Mr. Verder.
“Who’s making this speech?” asked Dan good-naturedly. “Mr. Clinton, I nominate Bob Hethington.” Applause followed. “He’s as good a player as any of us; he was here last year, and knows the ropes, and he – he’s a good fellow for the place.”
“I second the nomination!” cried Nelson.
Three other nominations followed, among the candidates being Joe Carter and Dan himself. The latter promptly withdrew in favor of Bob, and when the voting was over, Bob, in spite of half-hearted protestations, was declared elected. Thereupon Carter moved that the election be made unanimous, and it was. “Babe” Fowler was elected official scorer, an honor which quite overwhelmed him for the moment, and Mr. Verder was appointed manager. He and Bob were to get together at once and arrange dates, issue challenges, and start things moving generally. A call for candidates was issued on the spot, that constituting Bob’s speech of acceptance, and it was decided that practise should be held every week-day afternoon, when there were no games, at four o’clock.
“It seems to me,” said Mr. Verder, “that the best way to get good practise is to have some one to play against. Couldn’t we form a scrub team to play against the camp nine? We’ve got plenty of fellows here.”
“That’s a good plan,” said the Chief. “And you and I’ll join it.”
“And the Doctor,” some one suggested. Whereupon there was a laugh, and the Doctor begged to be excused.
“I tell you what I will do, though,” he said; “I’ll umpire.”
“All right!” they called.
“Kill the umpire!” shouted Dan.
“And I’ll get even with you, Mr. Clinton,” threatened the Doctor. “You’ll never see first when I’m umpiring!”
“He never does see it,” grumbled Tom. “He runs too fast!”
“Well, that’s all settled, then,” said Mr. Clinton when the laughter had subsided. “Now, let’s all get to work and turn out a good team, one that’ll knock the spots off of Wickasaw! And when we can’t find any one else to play, we’ll have some, good games between the first team and the scrub, and I’ll put up some prizes – boxes of candy, or something like that. How’ll that do?”
“Bully, sir!”
“That’s swell!”
“I’m going to play on the scrub!”
And the next afternoon, while the enthusiasm still held, the first practise was held, with almost every boy in camp as a candidate. Nelson turned out with the rest, and even Tom, under the excitement of the moment and with visions of candy before him, essayed to try for the outfield. Dan and Nelson were practically certain of making the first, if only by reason of former experience, for each had played on their class teams at school. The most glaring deficiency was a good pitcher, and the problem of finding some fellow to work with Bob, who was catcher, bothered the latter for some time. In the end a rather likely candidate showed up in the person of Wells, a chunky, snub-nosed senior, who, in spite of the fact that he was rather unpopular, decidedly stubborn, and a bit lazy, gave promise of turning into a fairly good pitcher. Dan was put on first, and soon proved his right to the place. Nelson went into the field, and finally found his position at center. He was a good batsman and a heady base-runner. Tom dropped out of the contest after a day or two, having been thrice struck by the pitcher while unsuccessfully endeavoring to hit the ball, and retired to watch the practise from the spectators’ gallery and nurse his bruises. A series of three games with the rival camp of Wickasaw were arranged for, and five other dates with hotel and camp nines were made. This meant an average of two games a week for the remainder of the season, and Bob got down to hard work. As it proved, it was lucky that the enthusiasm came when it did, and supplied him with sufficient material from which to turn out a team, for shortly afterward a spell of hot weather made its appearance, and while it lasted it was difficult to get any save the members of the camp nine to make the trip to the baseball field. But Bob didn’t let the heat bother him much, and practise was as rigorous as ever. When not enough fellows came out to make up the scrub, Bob held batting and base-running practise instead, until Dan declared that he had lost ten pounds in a week.
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