The Rambler Club's ball nineSheppard, W. Crispin (William Crispin)
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The Rambler Club's ball nine
Sheppard, W. Crispin (William Crispin)
Baseball stories; Boys -- Societies and clubs -- Juvenile fiction; High school students -- Juvenile fiction
"Oh, what's the use of going all over that again?" broke in Dick
Travers, impatiently. "Let's----"
Bang--bang!
Two sharp cracks on the door echoed noisily.
"Come in!" called Sam Randall.
"Crackers" Brown, wearing a solemn expression, promptly entered, his
lieutenants, Lawrence and Roycroft, following close behind.
"Good-afternoon, fellows!" exclaimed the coach of the "Hopes," without
a trace of excitement in his manner. "Gee! Awful big crowd in here for
such a small room."
An awkward silence, broken only by the sound of footsteps and the
scraping of a chair, as Sam changed his position, added to the pent-up
feelings which Harry Spearman was finding it hard to control.
Brown improved the moment by polishing his glasses industriously. Then
he sidled over to the window, where his stoop-shouldered form was
silhouetted in lines of uncompromising hardness against the panes.
"Randall," he began, deliberately, "we three have been delegated by a
number of students to bring to your notice the fact that the 'Hopes'
have been chosen by a most decisive vote to represent the school. The
thing was done fairly and aboveboard. None of you fellows would even
speak a word in your own defense."
Sam nodded coldly.
"You cannot go against the wish of the majority." The chief "outlaw"
brought out his words emphatically. "We wish to state that the 'Hopes'
are going to play Rockville Academy on Saturday."
"Are they?" cried Harry Spearman, excitedly.
"No athletic association is greater than the school it represents. The
boys have spoken. Listen! Here is the result of the vote." "Crackers"
could not conceal a feeling of elation as he droned out the figures. He
paused to receive an answer, but, hearing none, continued:
"This thing ought to be settled amicably. If you fellows are in earnest
about winning that field for the school you'll show it by handing your
resignations to the board of directors."
"Indeed!" sneered Harry Spearman. "For an absolutely unmitigated piece
of nerve and impudence that's the worst I ever heard."
"We didn't come here, to scrap but to talk quietly over the situation
and reach some conclusion," said "Crackers," smoothly. "Now, Randall,
what do you propose to do?"
"The athletic association does not concede that the school has the
right to dictate to it in such a way. We don't intend to ask any
members of the baseball club to resign."
"You don't, eh?" burst out Owen Lawrence. "Well, the boys are not going
to stand for any more exhibitions of obstinacy on your part. It's
either get out quietly or be thrown out!"
"We'll do neither," returned Harry Spearman, crossing the floor to face
the new student. "You can't bluff our crowd!"
"No use having a war of words," put in Brown, authoritatively. "I
tell you: when you fellows refused to play us a series of games you
started----"
Bob Somers interrupted him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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