CHAPTER XVIIIEMPTY BOXES
June had come and the end of school loomed close at hand. So, too, loomed the final baseball game with Petersburg. It is an unfortunate thing for ardent athletes that the crowning contests of the year arrive simultaneously with final examinations! There is no doubt in the world but that examinations seriously interfere with a whole-hearted application to sports. Most of the members of the Amesville team were agreed that something ought to be done about it; such, for instance, as abolishing the examinations! However, Petersburg was in no better case, and that evened matters up.
Amesville dropped a couple of games the second week in June, just to vary the monotony, perhaps, and then came back and overwhelmed Crowell Academy with a score of 10 to 1. Crowell was a much-heralded team from a down-State preparatory school, and Amesville did well to pile up the score she did, especially as, at thelast moment, Tom Pollock found that he couldn’t pitch and Jack Strobe sent word that someone would have to take his place in left field! Jack, who had been complaining for a day or two of a sore throat, was, it seemed, prohibited from playing by an unfeeling doctor. Loomis went into left field and Toby Williams took the mound, and both performed creditably. In fact, Toby rather covered himself with glory that day, having eight strike-outs to his credit when the fray was over. Joe played all through at first, as he had been doing since the second Lynton engagement, and put up a rattling good game. Even Frank Foley’s adherents had to acknowledge that the new first baseman had everything the deposed one had, and, when it came to batting, a good deal more. Joe didn’t particularly distinguish himself at the bat this day, but he got a clean single and a base on balls in four times up. Foley had been used in the last two contests for an inning or two at second base, but it was generally conceded that he was now only a substitute, with small likelihood of getting into either of the two remaining contests.
After the game that Wednesday afternoon Joe hurried to Jack’s house and demanded audience of that afflicted person. But, to his surprise anddismay, Mrs. Strobe met him with the information that Jack was suffering from a severe attack of quinsy and that the doctor had prohibited visitors, since the disease was more or less contagious. Joe had to be satisfied with sending a message to his chum. That evening, however, Jack called him up on the telephone and bewailed his luck. The only comfort Jack appeared able to derive from the situation lay in the fact that Frank Foley had not stolen a march on him by playing that afternoon.
“The doc says I’ll have to stay at home until Monday, at least,” he said. “I’ll lose Saturday’s game. If Frank manages to get into that and then should play for an inning against Petersburg, as he’s likely to, it’s all off! Isn’t that the dickens? Just when I thought I had that wager cinched, too!”
Joe was properly sympathetic and Jack finally rang off, exacting a promise from Joe to call up the next day. Aunt Sarah insisted that Joe should spray his throat after the interview. It didn’t do, she said, to take risks, and for her part she was far from convinced that folks couldn’t catch things over the telephone!
When, the next afternoon, on the way to the field, Joe stopped in at a drug store and calledup Jack it was Mrs. Strobe who answered. Jack, she said, was not so well today and she thought it best for him not to try to talk. Joe went on to practice feeling rather worried about his chum, and wasn’t comforted until Mr. Talbot had assured him that quinsy seldom, if ever, resulted fatally. On Friday there was no practice for the players, and Joe, rather at a loose-end, accepted Sidney Morris’s invitation to go to the “movies.” It was well after five when he reached the Adams Building. Mr. Chester Young was talking in a low voice with a man who looked to Joe very much like a bill-collector. Whoever he was, he presently departed with no great show of satisfaction. The day’s business had been, Joe discovered, surprisingly poor, the register showing less than nine dollars. And when Young reminded Joe that it was pay-day, Joe had to dig into his pocket for enough to make up the difference between the cash on hand and the amount of the clerk’s wages.
He called up the Strobes on the telephone after supper and talked for a few minutes with Mr. Strobe. That gentleman announced that Jack was feeling pretty mean, but that the doctor thought he was doing as well as could be expected and that he would probably be out and about bythe first of the week. After that Joe settled down to two hours of hard study in preparation for next week’s examinations, wrote a long letter to his mother and finally went to bed just as midnight sounded.
In the morning he went back to the news-stand and remained there until noon. Saturday was usually the best day of the week for business, possibly because many of the offices paid off their employees then, and today both Joe and Young were kept busy attending to the wants of customers. When Joe went home for dinner the sales had already mounted to over fifteen dollars and gave promise of atoning for the poor business of the day previous.
The game that afternoon was with Chelmsford High School and was looked on as more of a practice contest than a real game. It was the last contest before the Petersburg battle on the following Wednesday, and Amesville had purposely chosen an easy victim for the occasion. But at that the home team had to work fairly hard for half a dozen innings before the game was safely laid away, and, as it happened, it was Joe who was chiefly instrumental in that ceremony.
Chelmsford had two runs and Amesville three when the last of the sixth started. Amesville hadbeen playing raggedly and batting weakly against an easy pitcher, and only the fact that her opponent had been unable to do much with Tom Pollock’s delivery had kept her ahead. Tom gave place to Carl Moran in the fifth and, ultimately, Carl retired in favour of Toby Williams. In that last of the sixth Sam Craig, who was batting in third place owing to Jack’s absence, got to first on a scratch hit. Hale was an easy out, third to first, and Peddie was passed. The watchers were eager for runs and when Joe went to the plate, swinging his bat, there came cries of “All right, Lucky! Smash it out!” “Bring ’em in, Lucky! Make it a homer!” Joe had never made a home-run in his life and didn’t expect to now, but when, after the runners had attempted a double steal and got away with it, he found a nice, straight ball coming right for the middle of the plate, Joe took a little longer swing, put a little more strength into it, and the deed was done! It was a long way around those bases, he thought, but he didn’t have to hurry after he got to third, for the ball had gone into the left corner of the field and rolled up against the fence! He jogged across the plate finally to the laughing applause of the stands and was thumped on the back by hilarious team-mates.
Perhaps Coach Talbot thought Joe had done enough for one afternoon, for, when the seventh inning began, Joe found, to his surprise, that he was superseded at first base by Frank Foley!
“I’m glad,” he said to himself, “that Jack can’t hear of it. He’d probably have a relapse and die!”
Joe watched the rest of the game from the bench and tried not to be a little bit glad when Foley failed to capture an easy infield fly. The game finally ended with the score 7 to 3, and he walked back to town with the rest and reached the Adams Building at a little after five to find, to his surprise, that the stand was deserted. Supposing that Young would be back in a moment, Joe went behind the counter and waited on a customer. But no Mr. Chester Young appeared, and when Joe rang up the sale and so viewed the drawer of the cash register he thought he knew why! There was not a cent in it except the dime he had just dropped there!
His first sensation was, oddly enough, one of satisfaction over the fact that his original impression of the shifty-eyed young man had been, after all, correct! But that satisfaction didn’t last long. The realization that he and Jack had been barefacedly robbed of at least twenty-five dollars tookits place and Joe’s countenance became grim. To add insult to injury, he reflected, Young had had the cheek to demand his wages on the eve of his flight—and get them! Inquiry of Walter, the elevator boy, elicited the information that Mr. Chester Young had complained of feeling unwell and had announced that he was going over to the drug store for some medicine. That had been, as near as Walter could recall, about a quarter to five. It might have been a little before that. Walter evidently had no suspicions and Joe didn’t enlighten him.
The exodus from the building was under way now and for a good half-hour Joe was busy selling papers and cigars and cigarettes, together with an occasional box of candy. But he had plenty of time for thinking, and long before the elevators had brought down their last loads he had determined his course. A hasty survey of the stock in sight showed conclusively that the stand had done a phenomenal business since morning, but it was not until he thought to look under the counter that the real extent of Mr. Young’s depredations came to light.
On the shelves they kept anywhere from thirty to sixty dollars’ worth of cigars, cigarettes and other goods for which there was not room above.At first glance everything seemed all right, but when Joe picked up a box of “Adams Building” conchas and, bringing it to light, discovered it to be quite empty, he knew what to expect of the rest of the stock. When he had pulled all the boxes and packages out their contents would not have fetched two dollars! Only one cigar box held cigars, and then only a handful. Evidently Mr. Young had craftily replaced the full boxes with empty ones and, not having enough of the latter, had been forced to put in one from the case that still held a few cigars. It was the same with the cigarette cartons. Only one was not absolutely empty.
Joe surveyed the litter behind the counter and tried to think it out. At first he couldn’t understand what use the cigars could be to Young. Of course, he might take them away to another town and sell them, but eight boxes of them, as well as several packages of cigarettes and smoking tobacco, would make rather a conspicuous bundle to carry. Then a light broke on him and he quickly lifted the receiver from the telephone instrument on the counter and called up Meyers and Fink. Fortunately, they were still open, and after a moment Joe got the information he expected.
“Yes, that clerk of yours came in here about three o’clock today with seven boxes of cigars and some cigarettes and smoking tobacco. Said you were overstocked and wanted to return them. We paid him cash for them. We were going to credit them, but he said you wanted the money. Anything wrong?”
“How much did you pay him?” asked Joe.
“Forty-six dollars and something; I’ll give you the exact amount if you’ll wait a minute.”
“Thanks, that’s near enough,” replied Joe. “I’ll be around to see you Monday. Good-night.”
“Forty-six from them,” reckoned Joe, “about twenty-five from today’s sales and, unless I’m mistaken, a knock-down yesterday of perhaps five more. About seventy-five dollars altogether. That’s going to make an awful dent in this month’s profits if we don’t get it back! But,” he added grimly to himself as he locked up for the night and turned the light out, “I think we will!”