Late that night, well past midnight, Harriet was awakened by the sound of thunder. As she opened her eyes a vivid flash of lightning caused her to close them again sharply. She got up quietly and secured the tent flap, then crawled back under her blanket. The rain was not long in coming. A heavy shower fell. She wondered if this would prevent the game on the morrow, but she was too sleepy to dwell long on the thought, and dropped into a doze a moment later.
The awakening from that doze was a sudden one. The wind was blowing and the rain causing a great commotion in the foliage of the trees, when all at once one side of the tent tilted up. The whole stretch of canvas was suddenly lifted from them and hurled against a tree trunk, about which the wet canvas wrapped itself.
In almost an instant the Meadow-Brook Girls were soaked to the skin. They sprang up with cries of alarm. The night was very dark, except when a flash of lightning lighted up the deserted field that only a few hours before had been peopled with pleasure-lovers.
“Thave me!” cried little Tommy shrilly.
“What’s the matter? Oh, I’m getting wet,” groaned Margery.
“Nothing is the matter—not with us. It’s the tent that is in trouble. The wind has blown it over, that’s all,” answered Harriet calmly.
“Keep your blankets around you. You simply must not get wet,” commanded the guardian. “Oh, this is too bad—and on the night before the tournament,” she added under her breath with a little groan, unheard by her charges. For an hour they sat shivering, wet to the skin, unable to do a thing to help themselves until the wind and rain had ceased.
It was not an encouraging situation. Within a few hours the four girls were to enter upon the most momentous undertaking of their lives,—an undertaking that would require them to be in fit physical condition, with clear heads, alert and supple in limb. And here they sat in a blinding rainstorm with nothing more substantial than their blankets between them and the heavy downpour.
“There will be no game for you girls to-morrow,” groaned Margery Brown, dismally.
“If there is a game, we shall play,” answered Harriet.
“What shall we do?” cried Jane. “We’ll all catch cold!”
“When the rain stops we shall put the tent up again,” returned Harriet Burrell. “That question is easily answered, but answering is the easiest part of it. The worst feature of it is that all our clothes will be out of shape and unfit to wear in the morning.”
“We shall have to make the best of it,” said the guardian.
“We will iron them in the morning,” replied Harriet. “We must, for the sake of our friends, make a half-way decent appearance. You saw how neat and well groomed all the players looked to-day. With our dark clothes it will be even more difficult to make ourselves presentable.”
“I withh the boyth were here,” lisped Tommy.
“I don’t. We are perfectly able to take care of ourselves. What we must wish for is the rain to cease.”
No signs of its doing so were observable. They sat, dismal and forlorn, wrapped in their blankets, each girl sitting in a puddle of water, for there was no floor in their tent.
Harriet soon saw that remaining as theywere might be attended with serious results. She urged the girls to get up and walk about, which suggestion the guardian seconded. Then for the next hour they walked back and forth, keeping well out in the open field, fearing that were they to take refuge under the trees they might be struck by lightning.
About three o’clock in the morning the rain suddenly stopped. Soon after that the clouds broke away and the stars came out. The faint light of the coming day enabled them to see with some distinctness.
“Now for the tent, girls,” cried Harriet. “I wish we had a fire or a lantern. But we shall have light from the skies soon. Help me spread the tent on the ground and straighten it out, Jane, dear.”
While they were doing this the other girls were placing their belongings on higher ground.
“Oh, joy!” shouted Hazel. “All our dresses were in the chest. Who put them there?”
“I did,” answered Tommy. “I have thenthe thometimeth.”
A weak cheer greeted this announcement. Their dresses were dry, after all. Much of their trouble being thus banished the girls’ spirits rose, and soon thereafter they were laughing and chattering, unmindful of their bedraggled and thoroughly uncomfortable condition.
Suddenly Jane McCarthy uttered a cry.
“The ropes are broken—broken right off near the stakes, I should judge,” she called excitedly.
“That is strange,” replied Harriet. “The ropes are too strong to break so easily. The stakes would have pulled up before the ropes would break. Let me see.”
Harriet took the end of a guy-rope that Jane extended toward her, and looked at it closely. She ran to where the tent had been pitched and began tugging at a stake, which came up after no little effort on her part. This stake she carried back to Jane and held it before her companion, a piece of the broken rope dangling from it.
“See, Jane?”
“Well, darlin’, didn’t I tell you? The rope broke off just as I said.”
“You are mistaken, Jane, dear.”
“Eh, what?” exclaimed Jane. “Then what did happen to it?”
“The rope didn’t break off, at least not wholly so. It has been cut nearly in two with a sharp knife. I presume we shall find the other ropes in a similar condition. Whoever did it must have known that a storm was coming and thought that the first good puff of wind would leave us without a roof over our heads. Now, what do you think of that, Jane McCarthy?”
“The miserable cowards!” raged Jane. “Miss Elting!”
The others of the party were quickly made acquainted with what Harriet had discovered. Then there followed an immediate examination of the other guy-ropes, all being found partly severed by a knife. The uneven, stringy ends showed where the break had come when the wind blew hard enough to part them.
This was a new element of discomfort and mystery.
“I can’t understand who would do such a thing,” pondered Harriet Burrell.
“The boys wouldn’t play that trick on us, would they?” questioned Margery.
“Indeed they would not. This is not fun; this is malice, nothing less,” declared Harriet. “I am afraid we have enemies here, girls, but whoever they are we are going to triumph over them to-morrow, even if we have to go to the courts soaked to the skin and out of condition as the result of our night’s experiences.”
The light was now strong enough to enable them to make out objects about them quite clearly. They examined the ground. They found the imprint of boots in the soft turf all around where the tent had stood, but whether these had been made by one of the boys or by their midnight visitor they were unable to say. Theywere strongly inclined to the opinion that it was the enemy who had put them in such a plight.
“I don’t think we shall put up the tent now,” said Miss Elting, after reflection. “It is now nearly daylight. The boys will be along soon. They will set the camp to rights. There go two of them now to put up the dressing tent. Whoo-e-e-e!”
Sam and Dill Dodd halted at the hail. They saw instantly that something was wrong at the Meadow-Brook camp and came over at a trot. The situation was explained in a few words. Sam started on a run for his own camp to inform George Baker, and in an almost incredibly short time George came in sight with Sam Crocker trailing along a few rods behind him.
The girls had never seen George in a rage before. But his rage took a different form from what they might have expected. His face was very pale and his voice was so calm as to be almost gentle. Yet there was a note of restraint in it, of enforced control, that told the girls he was laboring under great excitement.
“Sam, skate back and tell the fellows to get our tent in shape. Tell them the girls will be along in a few moments,” he ordered, and Sam went obediently.
“But——” protested Harriet.
“You are going to our camp to turn in, all of you. Miss Elting, you will see that they go to bed and get some rest, won’t you?”
“Yes; thank you very much.”
“Let me see. The grounds are wet this morning. I do not think the games will be called much before eleven o’clock. You may safely sleep until nine o’clock. That will give you two hours in which to get ready. If there is any change in the time I will have you called earlier or later as needed, so don’t worry one little bit. This ground is too wet for you to sleep on, that is why I am sending you to our camp.”
“What are you planning to do, put up our tent?” questioned Miss Elting.
“After the ground dries off, yes. Just now I am going to see Jack Herrington, then call on P. E. How do the girls seem to be feeling?” George lowered his voice so that only the guardian might hear.
“In excellent condition, I should say. You know a little wetting doesn’t disturb them very much. I hope they play the games to-day. The grounds will be wet and somehow I believe our girls will make a better showing on soft, soggy grounds than on a smooth, hard court.”
“I’ve been thinking of that myself,” answered George confidentially. “Well, so long for a few hours. I have business on hand this morning, being business manager of the Meadow-Brookteam. Sounds important, doesn’t it? May not sound so important to-morrow.”
George started across the field. His chin was lowered almost to his chest and he was raging inwardly at the indignity put upon the Meadow-Brook Girls. He would see to it that nothing of the sort occurred again. He censured himself because he had not thrown a guard about the camp on the evening before the battle. It was too late now for regrets. The one great question now uppermost in the minds of a hundred or more persons besides himself was, who was going to win the doubles?
So far as George Baker was able to judge, the Scott Sisters were slated for this victory. Disbrow agreed with him, basing his judgment on what he had heard of the sisters and what he had seen of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Harriet and her companions, as the reader already knows, were confident of a great victory. The odds seemed to be heavily against them, however; hard luck certainly was on their side, as the incidents of the night just past plainly indicated.
Jack Herrington was very angry when he learned what had happened to the ambitious girls, but there was nothing he could do except promise to see to it that the guilty one would be punished, provided he were ever caught, which seemed doubtful. Mr. Disbrow shook hishead sadly. He said the effects of that wetting might not show until the girls were on the court, but that they would surely suffer from it.
The tournament was not to be postponed. It was to be started at ten o’clock in the morning, even if the courts were not dry. The sky was still overcast and the sun had not yet come out, though the air was sultry and close.
George sent a messenger to the Tramp Boys to have the girls called at eight o’clock and to tell them the games would be called on time. The active young man visited the courts, there to stand stroking his chin as he looked over the battle ground reflectively, consulted the skies, decided in his own mind which would be the favorable end of the courts with reference to the sun in case his side won the choice of sides. He considered everything, showing that Captain George Baker was a long-headed young man well worthy to be the leader of the band of hardy lads whose commander he was.
While he was thus engaged, two young women clad in raincoats, their heads enveloped in the hoods of the coats, came out on the field. They appeared to be very much interested in the courts, which they tested by stepping on them, taking note of the slipperiness, the stickiness and other features of the courts, they shook their heads disapprovingly. Georgedecided that they were players—players, too, who appeared to know their business. Once they had whispered together while looking at him. He knew they were speaking of him, which made the young man rather ill at ease. He watched them leave the field. Asking one of the men who had come to work on the courts who these young women were, Captain Baker learned that they were the Scott Sisters, which information did not tend to strengthen his hopes for his team.
There being nothing more to be done, George went back to his own camp, where he knew breakfast would be awaiting him. The other lads had put up the dressing tent and were now carrying in boards for a floor, the ground being too wet to be used as a floor.
It was nearly eight o’clock when the captain reached his camp. He found the girls up and dressed. They greeted him brightly, but he thought there was something forced in their gayety. The captain did not blame them for this. They were laboring under a great strain—in fact, the greatest they had ever experienced.
Before eating breakfast the team took a limbering-up exercise, consisting of forward and backward bends, skipping the rope, a rapid round with half-pound dumb bells, wrist exercises with light Indian clubs, and other exercises calculated to put in condition every muscle in their bodies. They went through their morning work without a hitch, finishing with flushed faces and sparkling eyes.
“Oh, it is good to be alive, even if one had to sit in a puddle of water most of the night,” declared Harriet, as they sat down to breakfast. “Eat sparingly, girls, and chew your food well. That was Mr. Disbrow’s advice. We are to have some dry biscuit to nibble if we feel hungry.”
Margery and Miss Elting had taken an earlier breakfast and hurried over to the Meadow-Brook camp to gather up the necessary articles for the battle. These were packed in a chest which the boys carried to the dressing tent, one of them remaining on guard over the stuff. George did not propose to have their mysterious enemy playing any more tricks.
At nine o’clock they started for the battle ground. The sun had come out broiling hot, the ground was steaming, the air full of humidity, a most depressing condition for those who were to participate in the great tennis match.
“I feel ath though I were going to a funeral,” declared Tommy dismally, as they plodded along over the wet turf.
As the Meadow-Brook Girls neared the grounds they saw that great throngs were there, while a constant stream of spectators poured across the field. Now that the sun had come out, nearly every one was dressed in white. The stand was still nearly empty, the seats there being sold by numbers, making it unnecessary for the ticket holders to come early in order to get a seat.
George was waiting for the girls at their tent, to which they went directly and, disappearing within, were seen no more until Jane and Hazel were called for their match. Their entrance had attracted no attention, however, as little was known concerning them.
“How are the courts?” was Harriet’s first question.
“Slippery as a skating rink,” answered George.
“It is as fair for one as another,” reflected Harriet, nodding. “I don’t know that I mind it particularly. Not very nice for white shoes, though, is it?”
“Now you may go out,” said the guardian.“We must get the girls ready. I will let you know as soon as we have finished.”
George promptly stepped outside. In front of the tent stood Charlie Mabie on guard. George directed him to permit no one to come near the tent until the guardian had notified him they were ready, and then only the friends of the party. There was little left to be done in the dressing. They took off their muddy shoes, putting on tennis shoes in place of the others.
There was but little talking in the dressing tent, but outside a great wave of conversation rose, reaching the tent in a confused murmur. The girls were rather pale, but this might be the result of the trying night through which they had passed. Harriet pulled herself together and began a series of cheerful remarks. She soon had her companions laughing, and by the time they had finished their preparations the color had returned to their faces and each had found her voice.
Mr. Disbrow was their first caller. He turned Harriet toward the light that shone through the tent opening and gazed quizzically down into her eyes.
“Just a wee bit nervous, eh? You will get over that when you get to work. It is perfectly natural. Everyone feels nervous before going into a tournament. Why, when I am going into a match I am so nervous that I can’t talk without breaking down, but the moment I feel the grip of the racquet in my hand and see the net before me I want to shout for joy. Ah, life is worth while when you are facing a hard-hitter across the net, and there leaps into your heart a savage determination to drive him from the court, a defeated man. Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way. Sometimes you are the fellow who gets driven off, but it is the spirit, almost as much as the skill, that wins games. No one with a faint heart ever won anything except defeat.”
“Have you theen that beautiful cup thith morning?” questioned Tommy eagerly.
“No, I did not come over that way,” answered P. E. laughingly.
“I hope it ith thtill there,” was the little girl’s anxious remark.
“You may depend upon it. Later in the day it will be brought over to the grounds so that it may serve as an encouragement to the contestants. Don’t lose yourself gazing at it while you are playing,” he warned jokingly.
“Have you seen the other teams?” asked the guardian.
“Yes, they are thick as flies on a summer’s day. They are literally swarming about the place. But there will be a thinning out soon. Iwas not misinformed regarding the Scott Sisters. They are fine championship material.”
“Aren’t we?” demanded Harriet quickly.
“You will be in time.”
“Yeth, in about two hourth from now,” answered Tommy. “But I do withh I wath not tho weak in my kneeth. Why, do you think, am I tho weak in my kneeth, Mr. Dithbrow?”
“You imagine that. Forget all about it. Think of the beautiful cup and the weakness will leave your knees,” he advised.
“Yeth, I have notithed that. I——”
“Time to go out,” called George cheerily, poking his head into the tent. “All fit and fine, I see. There’s going to be some lively work pretty soon. Jack Herrington says this is going to be a rattling tournament. You know where your courts are. Now go in and win. Good luck to the Meadow-Brook Girls.”
“We are going to,” answered Harriet Burrell, but her voice, though having lost none of its determination, seemed rather weak to Captain Baker.
Already the teams were taking their places in their respective courts and an air of tense expectancy was beginning to be noticeable over the great throng of spectators. It was all confusion to the girls. They did not appear to see any one individually, and in their ears was that confused murmur that they had heard while in their tent.
George led Jane and Hazel to their respective courts, Miss Elting and Disbrow accompanying them at a short distance behind. The trim figures of the Meadow-Brook Girls clad in their dark blue serge uniforms attracted no little attention as the two stepped into the courts where they were to play. Pressing close against the ropes, anxiously twirling their hats in their hands, were the boys of the Tramp Club, so nervous that they could scarcely control themselves. Harriet and Tommy also came out to watch this first match of their companions.
The linesmen were in their places at the sides of the courts, the referee sat in his high chair, where he commanded a clear view of the court over which he was to make decisions. Tommy laughed and poked Harriet in the ribs with her racquet.
“Doethn’t he look funny in hith high chair?” she chuckled. “Jutht like a baby. They ought to give him a bib and tucker.”
“Sh-h-h-h!” The referee was instructing the players as to what was expected of them. This finished, the sides tossed for the courts and service. In the case of the Meadow-Brook team the toss was won by their opponents, giving the opponents the service, the right to serve the firstball, a considerable advantage and one that frequently leads to victory.
The team opposed to Hazel and Jane were Miss Sprague and Miss Collins, the famous Riversides. Each girl was larger than either Hazel or her teammate, but to Disbrow’s keen eyes the two Riverside girls did not appear to be in the fittest condition. They were a little too stout, it seemed to him.
“Play!” called the referee.
Jane and Hazel stood in position, Jane apparently all ready to return the first ball that went over the net. Disbrow uttered a sigh of relief as he saw the lack of force with which Miss Sprague served the ball. Surely his pupil would send it back in the approved “smashing” manner. But Jane stood as if rooted to the spot; her first experience of playing before a crowd of onlookers had given her an unprecedented attack of “stage fright.” She partially recovered when the ball was on its second bounce, but then it was too late, for the Meadow-Brooks had lost the first point. And so it was throughout the six games that followed. Both Hazel and Jane played more like wooden automatons than like the strong, agile girls they were known to be. Their opponents were weak players, but they had entered tournaments before and therefore had more self-confidence than the Meadow-Brook Girls. In nearly every game either Jane or Hazel would manage to get a point or two, but Miss Sprague and her partner succeeded in getting six games before Disbrow’s pupils had won any, and therefore were credited with the first set of the match.
The Tramp Boys had cheered the girls whenever they had the slightest excuse, but they were too despondent to offer any real encouragement to the defeated teammates as they made their weary way to the dressing tent for a seven minutes’ rest. Even Disbrow could not conceal his disappointment, for he knew the Meadow-Brook team had not played as well as they had done in practice. Jane realized this, too, and just before they reached the court for the second set she whispered to Hazel in a very decided tone, “This set wemustwin. You know perfectly well that we can play better than those girls. If we lose, it will be a disgrace to Mr. Disbrow, and if we make use of all he has so patiently taught us, we shall not lose. Come on, let’s ‘thhow’ him, as Tommy would say.”
The next set told a very different story. Miss Collins and Miss Sprague had become over-confident because they had won the first set so easily; the Meadow-Brook spirit had asserted itself once more, with the result that Jane and Hazel had three games to their credit almost before they knew it. The Tramp Boys were yelling with delight, but the Englishman’s team were so intent on the business at hand that they were hardly conscious of the din. The second set they won easily, the final score being 6-2 in their favor. In the third decisive set of the match every point marked a long struggle, and the Riversides had to fight for every point they gained. The games stood 5-2 in their favor when Jane caught sight of Disbrow’s tense, excited face and tightly clasped hands. That was enough.
“Remember P. E.,” she whispered to Hazel, and thereafter they played with such vim that they brought the score up to 5-5 or deuce. Wild yells from onlookers greeted this feat. However, the longer training and greater poise of the Riversides told in the end, for in their eagerness to return one of the balls, Jane and Hazel both rushed for it, collided in the middle of the court, and the ball passed swiftly by them.
“Game and set for the Riversides!” called out the referee.
Recovering quickly from their collision, Hazel and Jane jumped gracefully over the net and shook hands with their opponents, almost before any one realized that the match was over.
When the Meadow-Brook Girls made their way back to the tent this time they heard congratulations for their plucky playing on all sides, and friendly sympathy for their bad luck. Disbrow was delighted with the showing they had made, and as he had not expected them to win, he was really proud of his team.
While Jane and Hazel had been playing, the Fifth Avenues were giving a fine exhibition of their skill in a preliminary match. Harriet and Tommy watched with great interest, for they were to play the winners.
“Game and set for the Fifth Avenues,” announced the referee.
“In fifteen minutes the ‘running up’ matches will be played, the Scott Sistersvs.The Riversides, and the Fifth Avenuesvs.The Meadow-Brooks,” Mr. Herrington then announced.
“That means you and me, Tommy,” whispered Harriet.
“Yeth, I know it doeth. But what did he mean by the ‘running up’ matches’?”
“Mr. Disbrow explained that to me a few minutes ago. The two teams that win these matches play against each other for the cup. Therefore, those three teams and we are ‘running up’ for the cup.”
“And we are going to win it, too, aren’t we?”
“Indeed, we are, for the sake of P. E. and the Tramp Boys, if not for our own,” Harriet declared as they made their way to the court.
“We are Going to Win,” Declared Harriet.“We are Going to Win,” Declared Harriet.
“We are Going to Win,” Declared Harriet.
“Play!” called the referee.
“Are you ready?” asked the Fifth Avenue girl who had won the right to serve the first ball.
“Yes,” replied Harriet.
Harriet being the striker-out, it was her duty first to permit the ball to strike the ground, taking it on its first bound and return it into the opposite court. The service ball had been served with great swiftness, it seemed, whereas, as a matter of fact, it was not coming nearly as fast as Harriet had thought. The ball dropped into her court not far from the net. Harriet saw at once that she had misjudged the serve and that she must make a quick move.
She ran quickly and leaning slightly forward started to scoop the ball up and return it, when suddenly both feet slipped out from under her. Harriet measured her full length on the ground, falling flat on her face, sliding along the slippery court until she plunged head-first into the net.
A shout went up from the spectators. The Tramp Boys groaned. They wished themselves miles away. Miss Elting’s face grew suddenly pale.
“Fifteen-love,” droned the referee. Harriet’s opponent had scored the first point. Harriet got up. She was covered with brown mud from head to feet, a good bit of it on her face. Never had she suffered the humiliation thatwas hers at that moment. Tommy had not uttered a sound. She was aghast with amazement.
The play went on, but not a point had been scored by Harriet and her partner when the announcement fell from the lips of the referee:
“Love game.”
“Isn’t it awful!” groaned Sam Crocker.
The second game was a repetition of the first except that Harriet did not fall down. It was a love game in favor of their opponents.
“It’s all over,” declared Dill when they began the third game.
“It’s our last chance, Tommy. Wemustwin the rest of the set. See! They’ve brought the cup here,” said Harriet.
The cup stood out in the bright sunlight a vivid flame. Tommy gasped. It was an inspiration to her.
“Yeth,” she breathed in awe of the beautiful sight.
They began to play. Harriet Burrell did not fall down. She was on her mettle. All the determination that she possessed had been summoned to the task before her. She was a different person. Tommy, inspired by the sight of the beautiful trophy, was a different girl, too.
Their opponents won the first two games, but Harriet and Tommy gave evidence of theirsplendid training and spirit by winning the next two.
“Two-all,” called the referee, and so the score went see-sawing back and forth until it was deuce, and finally 6-5 in favor of the Meadow-Brooks.
“Drive them out,” urged Harriet. She returned the server’s stroke, putting the ball into her opponents’ court, where neither of them succeeded in hitting it.
The decisive game now stood forty-thirty, leaving the Meadow-Brook team but one point to go. This Harriet made by a puzzling “floater,” a slow ball that fell in the opposite court far out of reach.
“Game!” announced the referee. “Seven minutes’ rest at the end of third.”
For a moment the Tramp Boys were silent. They were scarcely able to believe their eyes. Then the boys tossed their hats in the air and uttered a great shout.
“Splendid!” cried Disbrow. “Keep on that way and you will win the match. If you do, it will have been a magnificent thing after the awful start you made.”
Miss Elting’s eyes were shining happily.
“Girls, do you know who the Scott Sisters are?” she cried. “Oh, you can’t imagine! Your opponents are Patricia Scott and her sister!”
“Really!” was Harriet’s sharp exclamation.
“Yes, the same Patricia Scott who was dismissed from Camp Wau-Wau because of her enmity for you and her disgraceful treatment of you. She saw you girls, too. She knows all about our being entered.”
Harriet and Jane glanced at each other. There was the same thought in the mind of each. Patricia, or her friends, had had something to do with the cutting of the tent ropes. But neither girl voiced her suspicion at the moment. They were called back to the court almost immediately. But in Harriet Burrell’s mind was a stronger determination than ever to win until she came face to face with Patricia Scott across the tennis net, provided Patricia were still playing, which seemed more than likely, for the Scott Sisters were playing a magnificent game.
The story of the next set of the match is briefly told. Harriet and Tommy played three strong games, not perfect games by any manner of means, but Disbrow, who was watching their every movement with the eyes of an expert, saw that they were coming up magnificently. Each succeeding game was played better than the previous one.
“Set and match for the Meadow-Brook Girls,” called the referee, in stentorian tones.
The Tramp Boys were beside themselves with joy. Regardless of time or place, they uttered a series of blood-curdling war whoops.
But there was little time for congratulation. The Scott Sisters had won their match, and therefore would be pitted against Harriet and Tommy in the final match of the tournament. Fifteen minutes were allowed each team to recuperate.
The Tramp Boys were becoming worked up to a pitch of enthusiasm that threatened the temporary loss of their reason. Sam suddenly made a discovery. A young man in a white suit was seen talking with the Scott Sisters. There was something very familiar about his appearance. Sam drew near. When the man left the two girls, Sam followed him until the young man reached a secluded place at the end of the grand stand.
“You are the fellow who hit me on the nose!” he hissed. “Put up your hands! I am going to pay my debts.”
When Samuel Crocker had finished with the stranger the white suit was sadly stained with mud, and the young man’s own nose was in need of repairs. The fellow fled from the field, while Sam returned triumphantly to his companions, one eye blackened, his hair standing up, but his heart full of unholy joy. He feltthat he had wiped out two scores instead of one.
The ranks of the players were thinning. It was well along in the afternoon now. Players moved about wearily. Their feet were not nearly so light as when the work of the day had begun and there were many disappointed faces to be seen. As for the Meadow-Brook Girls, instead of growing weary, they plainly were gaining in strength. Perhaps their success was largely responsible for this. But their endurance was undeniable. Still, the work of the day was far from done, the championship a long way off, for the team that had been picked to win were still to be beaten.
Enthusiasm was running high. The Meadow-Brook Girls had by this time become very prominent. They were nearing the blazing cup which had served as Tommy’s inspiration and which seemed almost within reach now. But there remained the other team, before which everything had gone down. It seemed hopeless for Harriet and her slender, excitable little companion to hope to win against the hard-hitting, quick-footed, skilful Scott Sisters.
“They can’t do it,” declared Disbrow. “But even if they do not, they have won second place. That alone I should think ought to be triumph enough for any team that has been on the courtonly five weeks. Oh, this is splendid! It’s glorious!”
Harriet overheard. Her eyes lighted up for a moment and, catching Mr. Disbrow’s eyes, she smiled. Then, nudging Tommy, she moved toward the center court, where the final game was to be played. Only Tommy, Harriet and the Scott Sisters were left now. All the other courts were deserted with the exception of number five, on which a series of consolation games were to be played by the losers. But there was little interest in these. The great and absorbing interest was for number one court. The two teams were loudly cheered when they appeared at the court where the finals were to be played.
The Scott girls, smiling, confident, but plainly weary from the hard-fought battles of the day, entered the court. Patricia Scott jeered audibly as Harriet entered the opposite court and faced her.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t have met you earlier in the day,” she said sneeringly.
“I share your regret,” answered Harriet calmly. “But better late than never. I am going to defeat you if I can, Patricia, and I think I can. If you win this match you will earn it, and so shall we if we win.”
Patricia tossed her head in the air and stepped back, an angry light in her eyes.
“Some bad blood there,” said a spectator who had overheard.
“Steady,” warned the voice of Mr. Disbrow from the side lines.
Harriet nodded, but did not turn her head. She was watching her opponents, studying their every move, planning.
“Play!” commanded the referee.
Then began the game that was to be talked of for many a day thereafter by those who had been fortunate enough to watch it.
Patricia served. Tommy returned it, whereupon Patricia sent a ball which Tommy failed to reach.
“Fifteen love,” announced the referee. The Scott Sisters had won the first point easily.
“Look alive!” snapped Harriet, cutting her words off short. “Keep the cup in mind, but don’t look at it.”
The Scott Sisters took another point; then the tide changed. The Meadow-Brook Girls made two points in succession. The score stood at thirty-all. Then the latter gave a point to their opponents by a winning cross-court volleymade by Patricia’s sister. Harriet earned the next point for the Meadow-Brooks by driving a terrific ball straight at Patricia Scott. The ball hit her squarely on the left eye, bounded back and came to rest in her court before she realized what had occurred. The spectators uttered a shout.
The two teams were tied at deuce. Harriet began speeding up, but took two long chances and faulted two points to her opponents. The Scott Sisters had won the first game of the set, but there had been no lack of excitement. They had secured the necessary two points after the score had stood at deuce, or three points each.
Excitement ran high. There could be no doubt that here were tworealteams. About this time the word began to be passed about that the Meadow-Brook Girls had never played a real game of tennis up to about five weeks before the tournament. It was inconceivable. But by the time the Scott Sisters had won the first set, Tommy was showing a little weariness and welcomed the seven minutes’ rest granted to both teams.
Encouraged by Mr. Disbrow, and still determined to have the cup, the Meadow-Brooks won the second set after a bitter fight. They walked briskly to their tent amid the cheers and shouts of the spectators. In the tent they were fanned,their faces bathed, their mouths rinsed with water—they were not permitted to drink—then once more they were called forth to what all believed was to be a great battle. If anything, Harriet Burrell was fresher, stronger than at any time since she had begun playing in the tournament, but it was too much to hope that she and Tommy could ever stand up under the cruel grilling of the Scott Sisters, who seemed to know every trick that was known to tennis players. Tommy and Harriet would do well to earn second place.
P. Earlington Disbrow’s face was pale, his hair was rumpled, his fingers were open and closing nervously, while little beads of perspiration stood out on his forehead.
The next set was a fight from start to finish. The Meadow-Brooks went at it aggressively. They hammered the Scott Sisters, giving them such a grilling as those two players had never experienced. Twice during the one game Patricia had been made a target for Harriet’s ball, twice had Patricia been struck in the face, unable to dodge in time to avoid, or to hit the ball the way it came to her. She appealed angrily to the referee, only to be informed that if she could not keep out of the way of the ball she must expect to be hit. As a point was scored for her opponent each time the ball touched herperson or her clothing, Patricia naturally was angry.
The Scott Sisters threw themselves savagely into their work. Some time since they had learned the Meadow-Brook code of signals, as Harriet quickly discovered. The code was abandoned then and there, but as she played Harriet was devising a new scheme for outwitting their opponents. Then to Harriet’s dismay she discovered that Tommy was giving out. Little Tommy seemed to be withering. She was making a desperate effort to hide her utter weariness, but the quick eyes of their opponents discovered this fact very shortly after Harriet had done so.
“Favor yourself. I’ll take the bulk of the work,” flashed Harriet, when near enough to speak without being overheard. The opposition having observed that the little lisping girl was weakening began to hammer her, volleying at her, hurling ground balls into her court, directing almost their full attack at her.
Harriet, in making a run to her companion’s assistance, slipped, fell, but was on her feet almost instantly. Miss Elting saw the girl twist her face as if she were suffering great pain. Harriet limped a little.
“Oh, thatsettlesit!” groaned Disbrow.
But it was not settled yet. Game after gamewas played, first one side getting the odd game then the other, and at every other game the score went from advantage to deuce and back again. It was well-nigh impossible to get the two games necessary to give the set to one side or the other. The day was waning. Harriet Burrell and Tommy Thompson had been on the courts for hours. Their opponents also had been playing fully as long, but they were large and strong, while one of the Meadow-Brook partners was slight and was fast becoming exhausted.
Harriet, by taking all of her partner’s work that she possibly could, gave Tommy a little rest. The latter finally announced that she felt strong enough to take her full share of the play. It was then that Harriet tried the new plans she had been thinking out. She had observed in all the playing that players always glanced quickly in the direction they proposed to send the ball. This had been a great help to her in deciding where an opponent’s ball was going. She tried the plan of looking in the opposite direction just before she served a ball. The effect exceeded her fondest expectations. The striker-out leaped the wrong way the first time the trick was turned on her and Harriet scored a point. From that on the trick was applied now and then and almost always with success. Harriet’s lips wereset tight all the time she played and it was plain to those who knew her well that she was suffering great pain, but from what they did not know.
The Scott Sisters were furious. Where they had confidently looked for an easy victory, they found themselves fighting the greatest battle of their lives. Three times they had been warned by the referee for violations of the law, and, had the Meadow-Brook Girls demanded it, the game, under these circumstances, would have gone to them. They made no such demand. They proposed to fight it out to the bitter end. It was deuce, then advantage, advantage, then deuce again and again. Would there be no end to it? Each side determined that the next game should put an end to it.
“I am afraid Miss Thompson is too far gone for our wonderful girls to win. But oh, what a magnificent battle!” cried Mr. Disbrow. Captain Baker opened his mouth to reply, but was too overcome with emotion to do so.
“Tommy,we must win this game! Understand?” whispered Harriet.
Grace nodded weakly. They were advantage-in on games, being one game in the lead. It now needed but a game to win the match for them, but it had needed but one game to do that several times during this grilling battle.
“You play close to the net on your side. Iwill cover the court. If they lob, I will try to get out in time to volley it back. Now do your best. Remember the cup! Remember the beautiful cup, Tommy,” encouraged Harriet.
Tommy looked toward the cup, now turned to molten gold under the last rays of the departing sun. Tommy uttered a little squeal and leaped up into the air to meet a lob from her opponent, which she did so successfully that she scored for her team.
“Good girl!” encouraged Harriet. “Keep them at the back of the—oh, that was too bad,” as Patricia scored a point. The score in that game now stood thirty-fifteen. The Scott Sisters gained another point over Tommy’s fault, making the score thirty-all.
“Slow ball over the net,” commanded Harriet. Tommy obeyed and Tommy scored. Patricia volleyed, then darted back near the baseline ready to take a hard volley which she expected in return from Harriet, who was going to make the return, or to run up in case of a drop-ball.
Harriet saw it all. It was a critical moment. Her plans were formed in a second’s time. She sent a floater toward her opponent’s court. It hit the net-band, the strip of white canvas on the upper edge of the net. Patricia had darted forward just as Harriet knew she would, butas the ball hit the net-band, Patricia stopped short and laughed. She thought the ball had been played into the net and that it would fall back into her opponent’s court, thus scoring a point for the Scott team.
Instead of doing so the tennis ball, after striking the net-band, hopped over the net and dropped into Patricia Scott’s court, rolled along a few feet toward the side-line and stopped. It was as neat a “net ball” as any expert there had ever seen played.
“Game!” announced the referee. “The Meadow-Brook team wins.”
That was all. For a few seconds there was silence. The sun flashed out of sight and the cup changed from gold to silver. Harriet limped toward the net.
“Will you shake hands with me, Patricia?” she asked, with a wan smile.
“Only because I have to.” Patricia’s voice was low, and only Harriet heard her add, “I hate you more than ever!” With that she hurried off the court.
It seemed that up to that moment the spectators had not realized that the game was over. Now it came to them with tremendous force.
The little serge-clad Meadow-Brook Girls, the girls who had had but five weeks’ practice on the tennis court, had won one of the greatest amateurmatches that had ever been played on the Atlantic coast. A great, explosive roar burst from the throats of the spectators.
P. Earlington Disbrow, forgetting that his sprained ankle was no longer sprained, began hopping about like a rabbit. The boys fought their way through the throngs that were almost mobbing them to get at the victorious girls. They got them safely to the dressing tent, but as soon as they were inside Harriet’s head had drooped and she leaned heavily on Captain Baker’s shoulder.
“She’s fainted,” said George as they gently laid her down on a cot in the dressing tent. Miss Elting and a pale-faced woman rushed into the tent at this juncture. The latter threw herself down by the cot and gathered Harriet into her arms. Tommy sat gasping on the floor while a girl in a white sweater was bathing her face with cold water.
Harriet suddenly opened her eyes and looked into the face of the woman who was holding her so tightly.
“Mother, O, Mother! is it you?” she breathed, with a sharp catch in her voice.
“You fainted, but you are all right now. Oh, it was wonderful, but it was terrible,” sobbed Mrs. Burrell.
“It was foolish in me to faint,” answeredHarriet weakly. “I wouldn’t have fainted, but I sprained my ankle more than an hour ago. It seemed as if every step I took would kill me.”
Disbrow, with face now flushed, had been standing on one leg peering anxiously in at Harriet and her friends.
“Do you hear, P. E.?” shouted George, rushing to him and shaking a fist under Disbrow’s nose. “Do you hear that? She’s been playing on a sprained ankle for more than an hour, and yet they won the cup!They won the cup!Lucky for me that my heart’s all right! Whoope-e-e!”
Word of this was quickly passed, and the people would not leave until they had seen Harriet. She was carried out—the boys would not permit her to step even on one foot—then as she slipped an arm about Tommy’s neck and smiled bravely, another great shout went up. But now Jack Herrington was pushing his way to them. In his hands he held the trophy they had won, the much-coveted silver cup. He held up his hand for silence.
“It is my pleasure,” he said, “to present this handsome trophy to the Meadow-Brook Girls. It has been fairly won, and that after the most wonderful exhibition of pluck and endurance that it ever has been my good fortune to witness. I congratulate you from my heart. I amproud of you, proud of the honor that is mine, and hope we may meet again.”
The outburst that followed drowned his concluding words. It was at this moment that Jane McCarthy came tearing up in her motor car, scattering people to the right and to the left. The Meadow-Brook Girls were going back to their camp to spend the night, then on the morrow they were going home, bearing the precious trophy that Harriet and Tommy had won for them. There was also a smaller cup that had been awarded to Jane and Hazel, but the big trophy was the prize that overshadowed everything else.
Immediately on their return to camp Harriet’s ankle was dressed by Miss Elting, after the guardian had satisfied herself that no bones were broken. The faithful Tramp Club had elected to remain on guard about the Meadow-Brook camp that night. P. Earlington Disbrow also remained with them and after supper both camps gathered in front of the tent for a long, happy evening. In spite of her sprained ankle Harriet insisted on making one of the party.
Sam, who had been pursuing diligent inquiries regarding the young man to whom he had administered a well-merited beating, now informed them that the spy was none other than the brother of the Scott Sisters, thus verifyingthe suspicion in the minds of Jane and Harriet that Patricia Scott was responsible for the cutting of their tent ropes. Jane cast a triumphant glance toward Harriet while Sam was speaking, but the almost imperceptible shake of Harriet’s head caused the impulsive Irish girl to remain silent regarding Patricia’s past misdeeds.
It was late before the Meadow-Brook Girls said good night to the Tramp Club and went into their tent and the boys stationed themselves outside for their vigil.
A few minutes after the Meadow-Brook Girls and their guardian had rolled up in their blankets for the night Tommy mumbled sleepily:
“Harriet!”
“Yes, little partner?”
“Don’t forget about that thilver polithh and the cloth, will you?”
“I won’t forget,” promised Harriet. Five minutes later Harriet, too, was wrapped in sleep, and the round-faced moon smiled kindly down on the tired but triumphant Meadow-Brook Girls.
The End.