“Why can’t you? All you have to do is to arrange games for us and look after the expenses and see that we behave ourselves. If they make me captain——” “Which they will, as it’s your scheme!” “It’s really Bert’s. But if they do I’m going to tell the other fellows that they’ve got to do just as you say. You know more baseball than I do and you’re going to be the real thing.” “Nonsense!” “No nonsense about it. That’s settled, then.” “But, look here, I’d have to go to places with you and—and—well, you know, Gordie, I can’t afford to do that very often.” “It won’t cost you anything. Your expenses will be paid by the club. Besides, we’ll only go over to the Point and places like that, I guess. Now I’m going to see Lanny and talk it over with him.” “Well, all right. I’ll be manager if you really want me to. I’d like it. Only, if you change your mind, or the other fellows think——” “You know very well the other fellows will be tickled to death,” replied Gordon severely. “And it will be a good thing for you, too. Take you off this porch now and then. You don’t get enough sunshine and fresh air.” “Considering that I’m outdoors all day and sleep with my head through the window,” laughed Dick, “that’s a bit of a joke. But have your own way, Gordie. You always were a masterful brute. Going?” “Yep. I want to catch Lanny. I’ll come over again after dinner. Rah for the Clearfield Ball Club, Dickums! So long!” CHAPTER II DICK CONSENTS “The only th-thing is,” said Fudge, “it’s going to co-cost a heap, isn’t it?” Fudge, whose real name was William Shaw, was fifteen years of age, had sandy-red hair and blue eyes and was short of stature and round of body. His habitual expression was one of pleased surprise, due probably to the fact that his blue eyes were very blue and very big. When Fudge was the least bit excited he stammered, but the habit was too slight to be an affliction, and his friends sometimes got Fudge upset in order to enjoy his facial contortions when the word wouldn’t come promptly. It was Lansing White who, several years before in grammar school, had dubbed him Fudge. Lanny declared that “pshaw” and “fudge” meant the same thing and that “fudge” was more novel. At the present moment Fudge was seated in the apple tree which grew by the fence where the Shaws’ side-yard and the Merricks’ back-yard came together. It was a favorite retreat with Fudge, and he had built a shelf handy to the comfortable crotch he affected on which to place books and papers when, as was customary, he was studying his lessons there. To-day, however, as school was over for the summer, there were no books about and the shelf bore, instead, a tennis racket which Fudge had been mending when Gordon found him.