The Crimson Banner : $b A story of college baseballMoffat, William D. (William David)
General
The Crimson Banner : $b A story of college baseball
Moffat, William D. (William David)
Baseball stories; College sports -- Juvenile fiction; College students -- Juvenile fiction
“I haven’t the least idea,” responded Ray. “We have no need of them. I
am sure we have no fear of the Park men, nor any need to conceal our
features from them, while we certainly have no reason to be ashamed to
show ourselves when we return home with the cannons. I can’t understand
such concealment. It seems underhand and sneaky.”
“Oh, I suppose it is some of Percy Randall’s doings,” said I. “He told
me that he had ordered the masks.”
At this moment Clinton Edwards came up. Ray rose impatiently.
“Edwards, what on earth are these masks made for?” he exclaimed.
Clinton shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t know. I have just been urging Percy Randall to give them up,
but he wouldn’t listen to me, and the fellows all stand by him. They
are all of his spirit of mischief. He is the leader and we are simply
nobodies.”
“It is too bad,” said Ray. “I had my doubts when you told Percy to
organize. This is no Freshmen’s scrape. This is to regain college
rights――to vindicate college honor, and it was only on that basis that
I joined it. Percy Randall is too reckless and mischief loving to run
such an enterprise.”
Edwards laughed.
“Well, we can’t unseat him now. The fellows are all in his wake. After
all, maybe I exaggerated. He promised good behavior, and I don’t think
he intends any wild capers. Our best plan is to join the rest and use
our influence in keeping them closely to the night’s work.”
“Oh, we can’t back out now,” said Ray, leaning on the rail and looking
down at the water that spurted upward in front of the prow as the boat
made rapid headway toward Berkeley. “We will have to see it through,
and perhaps it may turn out all right, though I don’t feel at all at
ease. Your plan is undoubtedly the wisest, so let us make the best of
it.”
Here the conversation dropped, and except for a few occasional remarks
in low tones, the remainder of the trip was made in silence. After the
first twenty minutes all the students moved forward to the front of the
boat, where they stood in silent expectation of the sight of Park Hill,
where the slumbering college lay.
It was a curious group that huddled there at the bow of the Geraldine,
mysteriously masked, and bearing an air of grim determination that
boded no good for any unfortunate Park College man that happened to be
abroad at that hour of the night.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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