"Grit!" called the cadet, and the dog knew the consequences of disobeying that voice. Reluctantly he turned, but he sent menacing growls and barks in the direction of his traditional enemy. Mr. Larabee was still running as Dick turned back toward the parade ground, with Grit following reluctantly. "Grit, have you no manners?" asked Dick, but he could not help smiling. The dog wagged his tail, as though answering that he had not, and was glad of it. Dick turned to look after his uncle, who, casting occasional fearful glances back, was hurrying toward the station. And, as Dick looked, he saw a man turn from a cross road, and meet his uncle. The two stopped at the same time, and the stranger seemed to be questioning Mr. Larabee. If such was the case he got little satisfaction, for Dick's uncle could be seen to shake his head vigorously in disapproval, and then, with a gesture, to dismiss the other. The stranger hesitated a moment, and soon turned away. "He looks just like the man Paul and I met on the railroad," mused Dick. "The one Paul said acted as if he was going to commit suicide. I wonder what he wanted of Uncle Ezra?" But Dick was not to know that for some time. CHAPTER IV TO THE AUTO SHOW "Come on now, Dick! Give him a teaser!" "You know how to make him bite!" "Two down! Only one more Dick, old man!" The occasion was the last of a series of baseball games between the Kentfield Military Academy and the Blue Hill Cadets, a rival organization. It was for the championship of the league, which coveted honor lay between Kentfield and Blue Hill, with the chances in favor of the former. Each nine had won a game in the final series of the best two out of three, and to-day would decide the matter. "That's the stuff, Dick old man!" "That's got him going!" "Make him fan again!" These cries greeted Dick's delivery of the ball to Lem Gordon, who was up for Blue Hill, for Lem had struck and missed. "Only two more like that Dick!" called Paul Drew, "and we'll be all to the merry." "Watch Lem poke it, though!" called Joe Bell, the plucky little captain of the Blue Hill nine. "A home run, Lem, or a broken bat." The lad at home plate nodded, and kept a close watch on Dick, who was winding up for another delivery. "Two balls--one strike," Innis Beeby called. "Watch yourself, Dick." Dick nodded comprehendingly. This was several days after the visit of Uncle Ezra Larabee, and the time had been devoted to getting the Kentfield team in shape for the final contest. It was an important one, for, as I have said, it would carry with it the championship of the Military League.