“It won’t take him long to find it out,” replied Dick dryly. “At least two dozen persons saw him to-day. Someone’s pretty sure to speak of it. The idiot was driving as though he wanted to break his silly neck!” “That’s the way Morris would drive,” said Gordon. “By the way, there’s a meeting of the Athletic Committee called for next Saturday night in Assembly Hall to consider a new field. Will was telling me. He says he doesn’t see how we’re going to get a field without paying for it, and we haven’t any money to do that.” “It’s tough luck,” replied Dick. “Have they any field in sight?” “I don’t think so. Will said something about a piece of land on the way to the Point, near the picnic ground. Do you know what he means?” “No; but I guess there’s plenty of land there. I don’t believe it’s very level. I suppose beggars mustn’t be choosers, however.” “I think it’s mighty mean of Mr. Brent to take that field away from us!” said Gordon scowlingly. “Did you tell him so the other day?” Dick asked innocently. Gordon laughed. “No, I forgot to! Come on and let’s get these fellows started. Tom, will you pitch at the net for a while?” “Shall I tell Billings it’s all right about the umpire, Gordie?” “Yes; we don’t care who umps as long as he knows how. If they play us again, we’ll have the choice then. Now then, fellows, get your batting eyes! Don’t be too easy with us, Tom. Speed ’em over, old scout!” CHAPTER VI CLEARFIELD PLAYS THE POINT Clearfield boarded the two-fifteen trolley car on Wednesday and set out for Rutter’s Point in high spirits. They had intended taking the two-o’clock car, but Harry Bryan and Fudge had failed to arrive at the starting point on time. Harry claimed business affairs as his reason for tardiness, but Fudge’s excuse was both vague and involved, and Gordon informed him that the next time he failed to be on time he would be left behind. Fudge smiled dreamily. The team in their gray uniforms with purple stockings presented a very natty appearance. To be sure, some of the stockings were pretty well faded and several of the suits were somewhat stained, but on the whole the players passed muster very well. They took possession of the first two seats on the car and had a very happy and fairly noisy time of it. Dick and Gordon got their heads together over the batting order and rearranged it for the third time. When it was finally fixed to their liking it was as follows: Bryan, 2b; Scott, 3b; Merrick, 1b; Wayland, l. f.; Tappen, r. f.; Robey, ss.; White, c.; Shaw, c. f.; Haley, p. “We’ll try it that way,” said Gordon, “and see how it goes. Maybe we’d better put Jack after me, though. What do you think?” “We had it that way, and you thought we’d better change it,” answered Dick patiently. “I know, but—but I guess he ought to follow me, Dick.” “Look here,” said Dick, with a smile, “who’s manager here?” “You are,” replied Gordon, a trifle sheepishly. “All right. I just wanted to know.” “Then—you think——”