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Updated: August 29, 2024
He dodged all interference and when finally too hard pressed, managed to send the rubber disc across to Dugdale, who continued the good work by shooting it into the charge of Hobson; and, almost before Leonard could try to stop its flight, it had gone with a crash into the cage for the second goal on Scranton's side. Things began to look brighter.
Further along several other fellows were jumping with might and main, and showing either jubilation or deep chagrin as they found themselves able to do a shade better than ever before, or else going backward in their scoring. Indeed, that was going to be a red-letter day in the lives of all Scranton's young people.
Scranton's register was rising, while Allandale visitors began to feel something was on the verge of happening to crush the budding paean of victory that was ready to bubble from their lips. Nick evidently knew that he had shot his bolt. He, doubtless, tried frantically to encourage his legs to move faster, but they refused to hearken to the call.
After surveying different routes and hesitating over the choice between them, it was decided to build the road from Cleveland, on the West Side, and running through Scranton's hill to Newburgh, Bedford, Aurora, Mantua and Warren, fifty-three miles, and thence down the Mahoning Valley to Youngstown and Poland, to the east line of the State.
Still he took a kind of pleasure in dropping in of an evening to Deacon Enos's fire, to recount the various matters which he had taken or was to take in hand; at one time to narrate "how he had been over the milldam, telling old Granny Clark that she could get the law of Seth Scran about that pasture lot," or else "how he had told Ziah Bacon's widow that she had a right to shut up Bill Scranton's pig every time she caught him in front of her house."
Owen struck out, and Hugh sent up a mighty foul over in right that was caught in a dazzling fashion by the guardian of that patch. As the two clubs faced each other they ranged after this fashion, and it may be noticed that there was no change in Scranton's line-up except in the pitcher's box.
Scranton's register was rising, while Allandale visitors began to feel something was on the verge of happening to crush the budding paean of victory that was ready to bubble from their lips. Nick evidently knew that he had shot his bolt. He, doubtless, tried frantically to encourage his legs to move faster, but they refused to hearken to the call.
The person who, perhaps, had more influence than any of the others, and was more vehement in deriding the "foolish expenditure of funds along such silly lines, instead of trying to elevate the standard of reading among Scranton's young people," was the rich widow, Mrs. Jardine. She had a son named Claude, whose life was rendered miserable by the lofty ambition of his mother to make him a genius.
The fairly good town brass band had promised to be on hand, and play during the best part of the afternoon. Then there would be a host of refreshment booths at which Scranton's fairest daughters would preside, accompanied in each instance by a matron of mature years, to lend dignity to the occasion.
He knew Thad was fairly itching to ask questions, and apparently Hugh did not mean to let him have a chance. So they finally entered among the humble cottages and cabins where Scranton's colored population lived. Children were running about the streets shouting in play, even as the first peal of the cracked bell in the little church near by began to sound. Sarah was at home.
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