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Someone, of course, had played a silly joke on him, but he couldn't imagine who, nor did he for a moment connect Byrd's appearance on the scene with the registered parcel. When he reached the two ahead he saw that one was Byrd, as he had thought, and the other Thayer. They were so deeply in conversation that he was almost past before they looked up. When they did Dreer nodded.
In the pauses between exercises Clint could hear Harmon Dreer moving about behind the locked door that separated Numbers 14 and 15. Then the door from the well swung open, footsteps crossed the hall and Amy appeared, racket in hand.
"Well, he was twisting young Melville's arm and the kid was yelling and " "You'd have yelled yourself," muttered the boy, with a sniffle. "I came out and told him to stop it and he didn't. So I pulled the kid away from him and he got mad and punched me in the cheek. So I went for him. He's a mean pup, anyway, Dreer is." The subject of the compliment stirred and opened his eyes with a groan.
Dreer moved backward toward the curb, but found Clint barring his way. His anxious gaze searched the road for help, but in each direction it was empty. He laughed nervously. "What's the joke?" he asked. "No joke at all, Dreer," replied Amy. "I gave you fair warning that the next time you ran down the school I'd beat you. If I were you, Dreer, I'd take off my coat."
Penny nodded and retired, herding Melville before him, followed by the scowling regard of Dreer. Clint tossed the towel aside. "I'll beat it, too, I guess," he said. "You'll be all right if you lie still awhile. So long." "Much obliged," muttered Dreer, not very graciously. "I'll get square with that ugly pup, though, Thayer. You hear what I tell you!" "Oh, call it off," replied Clint cheerfully.
"Durkin shied a stone at us as we were going down the hill," said Dreer, "and when we told him to stop it he he wanted to fight." "That was the way of it, Beaufort?" "Aw, find out," growled Beaufort. "I don't have to account to you for what I do." "Keep a civil tongue, Beaufort," counselled Mr. Conklin, "or it may prove bad for you, my boy."
There was Canton at second, Hollis at short, Burns at third, who had been picked for the last year's All-American College Team. Then there was Dreer, brightest star of all, the fleet, hard-hitting centre-fielder. This player particularly fascinated Ken. It was a beautiful sight to see him run. The ground seemed to fly behind him.
Of the candidates chosen to play against the varsity Ken knew McCord at first, Raymond at second, Weir at short, Graves at third. He did not know even the names of the others. All of them, except Graves, appeared too young to play in that game. Dreer was first up for the varsity, and Ken shivered all over when the lithe centre-fielder stepped to the left side of the plate.
Let's get through with this." "Keep away from me!" Dreer cried. Then he appealed to the stranger. "Make him let me alone, won't you, sir, please? I I told him I'd do anything he said!" "Oh, did you?" asked the man. "Then hold on a bit. What is it you want him to do, you chap in the shirt-sleeves?" "I want him to acknowledge that he has been terribly mistaken about the school, for one thing."
Perhaps it was the absence of the customary wailing of the next door violin that put Penny Durkin in mind. Clint had never been in Penny's room, nor ever said more than two dozen words to him except on the occasion of Penny's encounter with Harmon Dreer, but just now Clint wanted mightily to talk to someone and so he decided to see if Penny was in.
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