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The distance from Putnam Hall to Pornell Academy was a mile and a half, and it was arranged that the football team, Captain Putnam, George Strong, and several others should ride to the latter place in the Hall carriages while the others walked the distance. Thanksgiving dawned bright and clear. The morning was spent in the Hall chapel, and dinner was served promptly at twelve.
As was natural, Pornell had put its heaviest batters at the head of their list, and it is possible Tom was a bit nervous as he twirled the ball and sent it in toward the home plate. "Ball one!" came the decision, and again the sphere came in. "Ball two!" said the umpire. "Take it easy, Tom!" called out Dick. "Lots of time, remember." The next was a strike.
As soon as summer was at hand, the Putnam Hall baseball club received a challenge from the Pornell club to play them a game at either school grounds. "They want to square accounts for the football defeat," said Fred.
Gray, the leader of the Pornell contingent, was a tall, lanky, and powerful fellow, and every stroke he took told well in his favor. The turning point was hardly rounded when he began to crawl up to Fred, and then he gradually passed him. "Hurrah! Gray is ahead!" shouted his friends. "Here is where Pornell wins the race!" added one enthusiastic sympathizer.
Not far from Putnam Hall was another academy kept by a certain gentleman named Pornell. The pupils at Pornell's were also great football players, and one day they sent over a challenge that the Putnams, as they were dubbed, should play them a match for the championship of the township in which both seats of learning were located.
The students from Pornell arrived early, and so did the other visitors, and by two o'clock the grounds were crowded. As before a parade was had. Then the umpire came out and gave each team fifteen minutes for practice. "We're in luck," said Dick, when Putnam Hall won the toss and took last innings. In a moment more they were in the field, and the Ump called out: "Play!"
"That's what but we'll wax 'em!" was the answer, and then of a sudden came another yell, for Pornell had the ball and was pushing it straight ahead for Putnam's goal. "Ten yards!" "Five yards more!" "Fifteen yards more!" "Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Toot! toot-a-root-toot! Clack-clack-clack, bang!
As soon as the cadets were settled down at the Hall, and the excitement over the runaway, the loss of Andy's things, and the fight between Jack and Ritter, was at an end, the talk of the boys turned to football and other Fall sports. As in the past, the cadets hoped to have a good eleven and win some substantial victories. "Wonder if we'll be allowed to play Pornell," said Jack.
One strike, and then came a high fly, far out in center field. "Run, Sam! Don't miss that!" came in a yell. "Run! run!" And Sam did run, knowing that if he missed the ball the Pornell team would score two runs, if not three. It was going far down the field, but he was after it, and just as it came down, he made a leap and clutched the sphere with his left hand. "He has it! Hurrah!
"Pornell Football Team: We hereby accept your challenge to play a game of football for the championship of the township on Thanksgiving afternoon next at two o'clock. As you have a grandstand we will play on your grounds.
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