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Updated: June 1, 2025
The richest chap was Gilbert, whose father was a lumberman, and Gilbert used to wear shoes that you wouldn't give to a tramp. "I suppose West's father could buy Mr. Gilbert out twenty times and not miss the money. Outfield isn't it a queer name? spends a lot of money, but not foolishly; I mean he has no bad habits, like a few of the fellows. I hope you will meet him some time.
While Outfield boiled the water and laid bare the contents of the larder, Joel told him of Remsen's offer. A box of biscuits went down with a crash, and Outfield turned indignantly. "That's all very fine," he exclaimed. "But where do I come in? How about Mr. West? Where does he get his show in this arrangement? You promised that if I studied law, too, Joel, you'd go into partnership with me.
After dinner in the dining hall that evening Joel confided his doubts and vexations to Outfield as they walked back to their room. "I wouldn't care if I thought I was making any progress," he wailed, "but each day it gets worse. To-day I couldn't seem to do a start right, and as for tackling that old dummy, why " "Well, you did as well as the other chaps, didn't you?" asked Outfield.
Within a few moments both these runners advanced on a long fly to the outfield, dropped by Stone after a hard run. Springer forced a laugh. "Can't expect to hold the kids dud-down with that sort of support," he cried. He did strike the following hitter out; and then came Hooker, who found a bender and straightened it for a sizzling two-bagger that sent in both runners.
When it was over Joel crawled off of the scale with the emotions of a weary draught horse and took his way slowly toward home. In the square he ran against Outfield, who, armed with a monstrous bag of golf requisites, had just leaped off a car. "Hello, Joel," he cried. "What's happened? Another off-sider? Have you broken that finger again? Honest Injun, what's up?"
The hoodoo had vanished. The championship Worcester team was itself again. The Bisons were fighting, too, but Rube had them helpless. When they did hit a ball one of my infielders snapped it up. No chances went to the outfield. I sat there listening to my men, and reveled in a moment that I had long prayed for. "Now you're pitching some, Rube. Another strike! Get him a board!" called Ashwell.
You might look after the golf cases, you know; injuries to bald-headed gentlemen by gutties; trespassing by players; forfeiting of leases, and so forth. What do you say?" "All right," answered Outfield cheerfully. "But it must be understood that the afternoons belong to the links and not to the law."
Who is that slender youth at second base, with the long nose and good-humored twinkle in his eye, who never allows a ball to pass by him? Will he ever become the Dean of the Harvard Law School? And that tall, olive-complexioned fellow in the outfield, six feet two in his ball-shoes, who would suppose that he is destined to go to Congress and serve his country as Minister to Spain!
Away over, next to the outside fence, on the far side of the track, open now before him for the long outfield stretch, the Rambling Kid straightened the Gold Dust maverick out. The other racers were still bunched against the inner rail lengths ahead of the filly. Leaning low on the neck of the maverick, the Ramblin' Kid began talking, for the first time, to the horse he rode. "Baby Baby!
Then the diplomas were presented, and, save for the senior class exercises in the school hall in the afternoon, Class Day was over, and Joel March's school days were past. Joel was graduated at the head of the class, an honor man once more; and Outfield West, greatly to every one's amazement, not excepting his own, was also on the honor list.
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