Dick Merriwell's Day; Or, Iron Nerve — Context and Discussion

e prepared to pull on his sweater. “We still have a small show, haven’t we?”

“Perhaps you may finish in third position if you can hold Maplewood down,” said the Seaslope captain. “We’re going to finish at the top, and I fancy Rockford will be in second place. It’s now a fight between you and Maplewood to see which of you escape being tail-ender.”

“Evidently you have it all settled—in your mind,” smiled Dick. “These things don’t always pan out the way they are planned.”

“Just look over our record when you get a chance,” invited Hyde. “When you’ve considered what we’ve done, it ought to satisfy you that we’re going to swipe the pennant.”

Having drawn on his sweater, Dick observed that Ray Garrett, the manager of the Fairhaven team, was looking blue and downcast. Merriwell clapped him on the shoulder and advised him to cheer up.

“It’s tough!” muttered Garrett. “This game pushed us down from second position and let Seaslope head us. If Seaslope keeps up the pace it has set, Hyde is right in thinking it will win the pennant.”

“You talk like a funeral!” exclaimed Dick. “Wait till we reach Rockford. We’ll figure over the standing of the teams after we get there. I think you will see they are well bunched.”

The recent victories of the Seaslope team had enthused its spectators, and the game this day had been witnessed by a wonderfully large crowd. Early in the season, when Seaslope was losing steadily, it had been difficult to get out a respectable gathering of spectators. Merriwell could not help thinking of the change as he watched the well-satisfied throng pouring out at the open gate of the inclosure. At last Seaslope was making money, and Jared Whitcomb, the manager of the team, was smiling and well satisfied.

“We’ve just about time enough to catch the next car for Rockford,” said Garrett, looking at his watch. “Have you picked up all the stuff, fellows? Got all the bats? Where’s the body protector? Don’t leave anything.”

Carrying their bat bags and other necessary luggage, the Fairhaven team hurried from the ground and cut across a field to reach the trolley line and intercept a car. In this manner they reached the car ahead of many who waited for it at a regular stopping place, and all the boys secured seats. It had been a hot day, and twelve hard innings had tired them to such an extent that they were glad to sit down.

“We must have that game to-morrow,” said Garrett, who had taken pains to secure a seat beside Dick. “For that reason I’m not going to send you back to the island to-night. I don’t want you to take that trip. If it should be rough to-morrow you might get shaken up coming over.”

“That’s a good idea,” said Dick; “but I thought you intended to run an excursion to-morrow.”

“I do. I’ll run it just the same. More than that, I’m going to see if I can’t stir up things on the island to-night. We must have a good big crowd of rooters with us in Rockford to-morrow. I will telephone the boys on the island and set them at work getting up a crowd. Dick, do you realize that the game to-morrow is going to be one of the hardest of the season?”

“Haven’t a doubt of it,” nodded Merriwell. “If Rockford won to-day from Maplewood, she’ll be able to hold first place to-morrow whether she loses or not; but if Maplewood won——”

“It seems likely to me,” interrupted Garrett. “Maplewood has been walloping almost everybody but us since getting her new team. A week ago I fancied Rockford might have the strongest team in the league. To-day I’m inclined to think she has the weakest.”

“Time will tell. We’ll find out how the teams stand as soon as we learn what happened in Maplewood.”

Finding the boys were inclined to accept Garrett’s rather gloomy view of the matter, Dick laughed at them and did his best to cheer them up.

“Don’t you worry about us!” cried Obediah Tubbs. “We’ll git into the game to-morrow, dern our picters! If Rockford takes a fall out of us she’ll have to get up and hump herself.”

On arriving in Rockford the boys eagerly looked over the bulletin of the Trolley League games displayed in front of the _Star_ office.

“Great horn spoon!” cried Buckhart. “Just look at that! Maplewood lifted Rockford’s scalp to-day! Nine to two! That was doing it some!”