That evening, the McQuade homestead thrummed with eager voices. Six of the best local players, carefully picked by McCarthy, had gathered. A good many more had offered their services, but most of these had more enthusiasm than baseball knowledge. “We sure need a first baseman,” exclaimed Spaulding. Merry smiled.
“I wired my chum, Owen Clancy, this afternoon,” he explained. “He’s at Fardale now, and has been out West. He’s just getting over a sprained ankle, but I think he can cover first for us all right. Now, let’s get down to business and map things out.”
Billy Mac, of course, would be backstop. He had been practicing all afternoon with Merry, and Chip had found that he could ask no better partner. The lanky Dan McCarthy would cover third, and looked as if he would do it efficiently.
Jim Spaulding made a bid for the central sack. He was one of the town players who had been ousted by Bully Carson, and was correspondingly bitter against the Clippers. Chub Newton would take care of short.
“We won’t be a cl-l-lassy-l-l-lookin’ bunch,”[59] announced the little fellow, as he inspected the ancient and tattered uniform he had brought along, “but we’l-l-l be right there when it comes to bal-l-l pl-l-laying!”
“You bet!” chuckled McCarthy, eying his own faded green shirt and baseball pants. “If I don’t bang out a two-bagger, I’ll quit tryin’ to play ball, by gum!”
The outfield would be taken care of by Moore, also an ex-Clipper; Henderson, who had been a high-school star two years before, and a tremendously built young chap named Nippen. This Nippen was almost a giant in build, possessed of terrific strength, and apparently had the general aspect and intelligence of a cow.
He was the one member of the gathering who did not impress Merriwell as being especially adapted for baseball. Billy, however, reassured his friend in a whispered aside that Nippen would produce the goods.
“He doesn’t look up to much, Chip, and he lumbers around like an overgrown puppy. But when he lands on the ball, he kills it, and the way he covers center field is something wonderful to watch. You wait!”
So Merry smiled and waited. Every one present displayed inspiring eagerness to work. There was one thing, however, which troubled Merriwell. This was the ill feeling which they displayed.
[60]
“You’ve got to watch that, fellows,” he said. “I noticed to-day that you weren’t a bit anxious to avoid trouble. Now, if we start in to win that game, it’s going to make the other crowd sore. They’ll try to get us into a fight and break up things. I want you to promise me that whatever they say or do, you’ll keep your heads and let the scrapping wait till later. We can’t afford to get rattled, you know.”
All save McCarthy recognized this fact and readily extended their promise. The lanky third baseman held back, however.
“If that feller Squint Fletcher gets gay, I’m goin’ to paste him,” he declared stubbornly. “I won’t take any talk or any dirty work from him.”
“All right,” said Merry quietly. “We’ll have to find another man to cover third, I’m afraid. We can’t take any chances that way, fellows.”
McCarthy was taken all aback by this. When he found that Merriwell was in earnest, he scratched his head and reconsidered.
“All right,” he said, “I’ll promise not to start anything like a scrap, no matter what Squint does. But I’m goin’ to file my spikes, jest the same. I reckon we’d better make Merriwell captain, fellers.”
There was an instant shout of agreement. Chip held up his hand.
“Hold on, everybody! I think that Billy Mac[61] ought to be your captain. I’m an outsider, and I’m only butting in here, anyhow——”
“Not on your life!” yelled Billy.
“Yeh! You’re it, Merriwell!” chirped Chub Newton. “I’l-l-l bank on you every time! L-l-let’s make it unanimous, fel-l-lows!”
Merry’s protests were voted down amid wild enthusiasm, and he was elected captain of the pick-ups. Spaulding suggested that they call themselves the Carsonville Clippings.
“That’s it!” cried Chub. “The Cl-l-lippers and the Cl-l-lippings—wow! Won’t Bul-l-ly Carson be mad, though!”
The name was adopted with a yell of delight. The meeting was just breaking up when there was a ring at the doorbell, and Billy returned with a telegram for Chip.
“It’s from Clancy,” cried Merry, tearing open the envelope. “Hello! Listen to this, fellows!”
And, holding up the message, he read as follows:
Coming on the jump. Ankle fine. Bringing your uniform and some balls. Arrive to-morrow noon via Hornet.
Owen Clancy.
“What’s the Hornet?” inquired Billy, in wonder. “There’s no noon train in!”
“That’s Clancy’s car,” laughed Merry. “It’s an old auto that he took off the scrap heap and made into a racer, though it doesn’t look up to much. He brought it with him from the West.”
[62]
“I’d like to put him up,” volunteered Spaulding. “We’ve got lots of room at our place, and he’d be welcome to stay a month.”
Billy protested, for he wanted Clancy as a guest himself, but Merriwell knew that two guests would sorely tax good Mrs. McQuade’s resources, so he accepted Spaulding’s offer gratefully. The meeting broke up with the first practice set for the following morning, Chub Newton stating that he would get off work easily enough, as his employer had no love for the Carsons.
Merriwell rather expected that he would get a letter from his father in the morning’s mail, but none came. Though he said nothing of it, this worried him slightly. He had explained to Billy that he had written his father, asking for the thousand dollars, and he began to wonder if his letter had miscarried.
He soon forgot his worry, when the Clippings assembled on an old diamond used by the high school. It was in a meadow beside the river. Three or four old balls were produced, and Merry at once set to work to get an idea of what his team could do.
The results were both encouraging and discouraging. The diamond was rough and uncared for, so that the infield had a tough time judging balls, but the base throws were excellent, and they showed good form.
Merry handed up slow ones, and the batting[63] practice proved that in this quarter his team was lamentably weak. Chub Newton would bite at anything. McCarthy faced the plate wickedly, but his eye was poor on slow ones, and it was said that Bully Carson did his best work with a fadeaway ball.
Spaulding proved to be a fair batsman, while Nippen landed on Merry’s first ball and knocked it into the middle of the river. Henderson and Moore did poorly, and, although the three outfielders showed up better on gathering in high ones, Merry was not greatly encouraged when he and Billy went home for lunch.
“We’ve got a tough nut to crack here, old man,” he remarked soberly. “Can the Clippers hit pretty well?”
“That’s their strong suit,” gloomily returned Billy Mac. “They get a pitcher going, and it’s all off with him. They’re pretty ragged when it comes to headwork, but they give Carson mighty good support. Yes, they can certainly hit. Squint Fletcher leads the league.”
“Slugging doesn’t always mean hitting,” said Merry cheerfully. “Brace up, old man! We’ve a day and a half for practice, and we’re going to improve a whole lot.”
“We’ll need to,” muttered Billy. He halted suddenly, staring up at the house just ahead of them. “Hello! There’s a machine standing out in front!”
[64]
“Clancy must have come ahead of time!” cried Merry.
The two burst into a run. Reaching the veranda, they found a red-haired young fellow seated in a rocker. He was talking with Mrs. McQuade. At sight of Merriwell, he leaped up and vaulted the railing.
“Hello, Chip!” he cried, wringing Merry’s hand. “Wow! I’m glad to see you!”
“Same here,” returned Chip. “I see you’ve already met Mrs. McQuade, eh?”
“We’re old friends by this time,” said Clancy. “Hello, Billy! I haven’t seen you since last fall. How’s everything?”
“Pretty good,” stated Billy, forgetting his troubles for the moment. “When do we get some eats, mother?”
“Lunch is all ready,” said Mrs. McQuade, who had taken a fancy to the red-haired chap already. “Do you want to bring your stuff inside, Mr. Clancy?”
Merriwell hastily explained that Clan was going to stop with Jim Spaulding, and they turned to examine the load heaped in the vacant seat of the machine.
This was composed of two Fardale uniforms, together with a catcher’s mitt, protector, and mask, and a half dozen balls. On these Billy pounced with delight.
“Wait till this afternoon, Chip! We couldn’t[65] do much with those old balls this morning, but we’ll show you something this afternoon! Say, this looks pretty good to me.”
“Something to eat would look pretty good to me,” said Clancy. “I’ve been hitting the high places ever since early this morning. Say, it certainly did feel good to go out and have your mother pump water over me, Billy. Reminded me of days on the farm.”
The three settled down about the table, and Merry at once launched into a description of events at Carsonville. Billy and his mother never tired of watching the bronzed young fellow, who had been regaling Mrs. McQuade with tales of his adventures in Arizona, and Clancy polished off the good things before him with astonishing rapidity.
“It listens good to me,” he commented, with a sigh, when, at length, he could stow no more away. “I hear at Fardale that Billy has developed into quite a backstop, eh?”
“Sure,” said Merry. “He’s a wonder, and no mistake, Clan.”
“Oh, my eye!” sniffed Billy. “Just because I happen to hold on to your double shoots, you needn’t raise my modesty like that!”
“It isn’t every one who can hang on to them,” said Clancy. “Oh, by the way, Chip, I came mighty near forgetting! Your father was at Fardale yesterday on a flying visit.”
[66]
And he began to dig excitedly at his pocket, finally extricating an envelope which he handed to Merry.
“Your father asked me to give this to you. He said it would get to you quicker than if he mailed it.”
Merriwell nodded. With a word of apology to Mrs. McQuade, he tore open the envelope, half expecting to see an inclosure. None fell out. He ran his eye quickly over the letter, and his cheeks paled a trifle, then he refolded it, and put it in his pocket.
Five minutes later he stood on the veranda with Billy. Clancy was down in the drive explaining the hidden beauty of his car to Mrs. McQuade.
“What’s the trouble, Chip? Wouldn’t he let you have the coin?” asked Billy.
“I’m sorry, old man,” and Merriwell bit his lip. “He didn’t think it wise.”