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Updated: May 13, 2025
If it wasn't for that baseball and bat, and those gloves of his, he couldn't a' played with us last year." Silvey shrugged his shoulders. "He's going around school, saying that he's going to be captain of the 'Tigers' this year." "You're president of the club, aren't you?" said John, thoughtfully. His chum nodded. "I'll go around and see all the fellows.
Red Brown and Perry Alford stationed themselves at second and shortstop respectively, while the Harrison boys stood around and waited until duty should call them to the outfield. "Where's Skinny and Sid?" asked John as he glanced around. "There's Mosher, now," exclaimed Silvey, as a tall and diminutive figure made their way down the railroad embankment. "Kid brother with him as usual."
Half-past six was the deadline for the evening meal with most of them, and parental scoldings were in order. "See you at eight," Silvey called as he turned north. John stopped short. Hang that party! "I w-won't be with the gang," he quavered. "What?" Bill could scarcely believe his ears. John explained haltingly. "That kid! I knew she'd make trouble." The murder was out; the worst was over with.
John's watch told of at least a quarter of an hour before supper time, and they perched themselves on the top step to talk of fishing, of the May vacation of a week which would soon be upon them, of the leaky roof in the shack, and lastly of the baseball team. "Joe Menard's folks had to move," said Silvey, as he thought over the roster of last year's organization.
Time and again Haldane Harrison took his place to whip a few slightly curving balls down to the critical Silvey, only to realize that his knowledge of the art was sadly deficient. They all had a try at it, eventually, while Sid stood by with a sarcastic grin on his face and watched their futile efforts.
The elder Harrison boy who led the four skirmishers, ventured a shot to open the engagement. Silvey, Skinny, and Sid DuPree sauntered carelessly up. "Now!" shouted John. His little force split into two groups. Red, with Perry and two others, charged to the right of the advancing quartette, while the general's detachment dodged quickly past their left.
When they came to the tall poplars which marked the entrance to the park, Silvey looked down and viewed the fruit of their morning's labors with disgust. "He's awful small," he said shamefacedly. "Throw him into the bushes." John raised the diminutive perch into the air and regarded it glumly. "Cat'll eat him, I guess." "Have to sneak home the back way, then," said Silvey.
Anything even school was better than staying in bed in a darkened room. Did Louise enjoy his back seat? Had she found the big wad of chewing gum he'd left on the bottom of the desk? Was Silvey having the same unfortunate time as he? The room was warm and close in spite of the open east exposure. He yawned dismally. A fly lighted on his nose. He brushed it away in drowsy irritation.
An instance of the opposite extreme I witnessed here in an effort to rouse Silvey, who was generally a driver. After getting him on his feet, he was shaken, pulled, and dragged around a blazing fire, almost scorching him, until the guard-officer had to give him up. If feigning, it was never discovered.
Then Francis can play, and perhaps we can catch up with them." "But he won't let Francis learn my signals," Silvey complained. "Says he's captain and we've got to do just what he says." "Get Francis to come down to your yard tomorrow noon," John counseled, as he stood up and stretched himself. "Teach him then."
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