Will Was Safe on Second Base.
Frontispiece.

TOMMY TIPTOP AND
HIS BASEBALL NINE
OR THE
BOYS OF RIVERDALE AND
THEIR GOOD TIMES

BY
RAYMOND STONE
AUTHOR OF “TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS FOOTBALL ELEVEN,”
“TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS WINTER SPORTS,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
GRAHAM & MATLACK
PUBLISHERS

BOOKS FOR BOYS

BY RAYMOND STONE

THE TOMMY TIPTOP SERIES

Quarto. 128 pages. Cover in colors
Illustrated. Price, per volume, 40 cents, postpaid

TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS BASEBALL NINE; Or, The Boys of Riverdale and Their Good Times

TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS FOOTBALL ELEVEN; Or, A Great Victory and How It Was Won

TOMMY TIPTOP AND HIS WINTER SPORTS; Or, Jolly Times on the Ice and in Camp

(Other volumes in preparation)

GRAHAM & MATLACK, Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1912, by
GRAHAM & MATLACK

Tommy Tiptop and His Baseball Nine

CONTENTS

Tommy Tiptop and His
Baseball Nine

CHAPTER I
TOMMY PLAYS BALL

“I’m going to be up at the bat first!”

“You’re not, Tommy Tiptop! It’s my turn!”

“No, you were up first the last time we played. It’s Sammie Small’s turn, if it isn’t mine,” and Tommy Tiptop, a sturdy, stout chap of ten years, looked around at his companions, boys of about his own age. They had gathered on a vacant lot after school to have a ball game.

“That’s right!” cried Sammie Small. “I haven’t had a chance to hit the ball this week. You fellows keep me chasing after the ones you knock all the while.”

“Well, come on then, if we’re going to play!” exclaimed Tommy, who always liked to be busy, if not at one thing then at another. And when he found that it wasn’t his turn to bat he was willing to do something else. “Come on!” he cried. “I’ll pitch and Sammie can bat. We haven’t got enough for sides, and——”

“Yes, we have, too!” suddenly cried Horace Wright. “Here come Dan Danforth and George Squire. That makes five on a side, and we’ll choose——”

“Who are going to be the captains?” asked Dan, as he and George hurried up, tossing their books in a pile on the green grass.

“I’ll be one captain!” exclaimed Tommy Tiptop.

“Oh, you always want to be a captain!” sniffed Horace.

“Well then, be it yourself,” agreed Tommy quickly. “Only let’s play. What’s the good of standing here talking all day?”

“You’re talking as much as the rest of us,” put in Patsie Cook. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We’ll race to the big tree, and the two first fellows to get there shall be the captains.”

“That’s the way!” came in a chorus from the other lads, and instantly they set off at top speed for a big maple tree that grew on the edge of a brook which flowed through the meadow near the school—a meadow where the small boys used to play ball. The larger lads had a regular diamond, with canvas bags for bases and a real home plate that didn’t get lost or kicked aside every time a cow walked through the field. But Tommy and his friends were satisfied with their way of doing things.

Away the ten young chaps raced, each eager to be one of the two first at the tree, and so gain the honor of being one of the captains.

“Come on, Tommy!” called Dan Danforth, looking back to note the progress of the other lad, for Dan was a year older than our hero and liked him very much. “Come on, Tommy; don’t let Sammie beat you!”

“I—I won’t!” gasped Tommy, his sturdy legs going back and forth rapidly. “I—I’m coming!”

“Go on. I’m going to win!” cried Sammie, as with a burst of speed he got ahead of Tommy. Sammie and Dan were now the two foremost runners, but the big tree was still some distance away, and Tommy had a chance, for he was directly behind Sammie. The other boys were strung out in a long line behind.

“Go on, Tommy! Go on!” yelled some of the boys in the rear. “We want you for our captain!”

“I’m going to be the captain!” cried Sammie, and he looked back to see how close Tommy was to him.

And then something happened. Sammie did not see a crooked stick that was right in his path, and the next moment his toe caught under it. He tripped and then went sprawling in the soft grass, rolling over and over.

“Now’s your time, Tommy!” yelled George Squire, who had no chance of winning. “Go on, Tommy! Leg it! Leg it!”

“That ain’t fair!” cried Sammie, trying to jump up and keep on with the race.

“Sure it is!” exclaimed Dan. “He didn’t trip you. You did it yourself. Go on and win, Tommy!”

“I’m going to!” came from Tommy, as he raced on faster than ever. He was soon at the side of Dan, and a few seconds later both were at the big tree, while Sammie, picking himself up, came on after them, but too late to win the race.

“Tommy and Dan are the captains!” cried Patsie Cook. “Take me on your side, Tommy!”

“I’m going to play on Dan’s side!” exclaimed Sammie, who felt just a little bit angry at Tommy for having beaten him.

“All right,” answered Dan, good-naturedly, and he was satisfied, for Sammie was a good player.

And so the choosing of the sides went on, and then the ten lads hurried back to the middle of the field, where the grass was not so long, and where you did not have to hunt half an hour to find the ball after you had batted it.

“Let’s see who has first inning,” suggested Tommy. So he tossed the bat to Dan, who caught it in one hand, about half way down. Then Tommy put his hand on top of Dan’s, and Dan did the same thing to Tommy’s pudgy fist, until the top of the bat was reached, when Tommy, having the last hold, was entitled to choose first or last inning, just as he liked.

“He hasn’t got his whole hand on that bat!” exclaimed Sammie, who wanted his side to have the advantage.

“I have so!” cried Tommy.

“Hit the top of the bat with a brick and you can soon tell,” advised George Squire.

This was done, and it was found that when the bat was tapped Tommy’s hand was not touched, so Sammie’s objection did not amount to anything.

“Take last inning, Tommy,” advised Patsie Cook, “then we’ll have a better chance to win.”

“I will not!” cried our hero. “I’m going to get our raps in first, and then if any of the fellows want to quit we won’t get left. We’ll take first whacks.”

“All right,” agreed Dan. “Now, boys, we’ll see who wins. We’ll only play two bases, and that will leave one fellow to run after the balls. I’ll pitch, Sammie can catch, and Pete Johnson can race after the balls.”

“I will not!” cried Pete. “I want to be on base.”

“Jake Carroll and Harold Mott are going to be on the bases,” declared the captain.

“Then I won’t play!” came from Pete.

“Yes, you will, too. I’m captain, and what I say goes! You get out and race after the balls, and maybe I’ll let you catch next inning.”

“Oh, will you? All right!” cried Pete, much pleased.

“Hey, somebody has taken our home plate!” cried Tommy, who, assuming the right because he was captain, had come to bat first. “That nice flat stone we had for home is gone.”

“I guess Billy Newhouse took it just to be mean!” exclaimed Dan. “I saw him walking around here this morning, and he threw something in the brook. Maybe it was our stone.”

“Oh, get another stone and play ball!” cried Sammie Small. “Do you want us to stay here all night? I want a chance to bat!”

“All right,” agreed Tommy Tiptop. “Go ahead, I’m ready. This stone will do,” and he picked up a small flat one and put it down in front of him, tapping his bat on it to show that the game might begin.

“Pitch him a curve now, Dan! Pitch him a curve!” cried Sammie from his position as catcher.

“Get out! He can’t curve ’em!” retorted Patsie.

“I can’t, eh? I’ll show you!” cried Dan, and he sent in a swift one. It came straight for Tommy, who quickly turned his back, and received the ball on his shoulder.

“Ouch! You did that on purpose, Dan Danforth!” yelled the small batsman.

“I did not! You got right in the way of it. If you had stood still, it would have curved right around you.”

“Oh, go on!”

“Take your base, anyhow, Tommy,” advised Patsie. “That’s the rule; when you’re hit you take your base. I’ll bring you in,” and he grabbed up the bat that Tommy cast aside as he started for the stone which marked first base. Tommy rubbed his shoulder as he trotted along.

“Did I hurt you much?” asked Dan, a little sorry for the way the ball had slipped. “I didn’t mean to.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt much,” replied Tommy. “I don’t mind. Now knock a good one, Patsie!”

Dan delivered another ball, and Patsie missed it, while the opposite side yelled with delight.

“That was too high!” said the batter. “I want one there,” and he held the stick out in front of him to show where he liked the ball to come.

“Here it is!” exclaimed Dan, and he pitched the ball again.

There was a crash of the bat, and the ball went sailing over the grass.

“Run, Patsie! Run!” his friends advised him.

“Come on in, Tommy! Come on in!” were the other shouts, as Tommy, who had started for second base, reached it and hesitated about going “home.” Then he concluded it was safe, and he raced on. But Pete Johnson had the ball now, and threw it in.

“Look out!” yelled George Squire. “He’ll get you, Tommy!”

Sammie Small stretched out his hands to gather in the ball and put the runner out at the home plate.

“Slide, Tommy! Slide!” advised Patsie, who had reached second base and was resting there.

Tommy Tiptop dropped into the dust and slid the rest of the way home, getting there before the ball did. An instant later Sammie reached over and touched him on the back, crying:

“Out!”

“I am not!” yelled Tommy, springing to his feet. “I’m safe! I’ll leave it to Dan.”

“Yes, I guess he’s safe,” slowly admitted the captain of the other team. “He’s safe enough, Sam. Go on; we’ll get the next one. Who’s up?”

“George is,” declared Tommy, looking at his clothes, which were covered with dust. “Gosh! Ma’ll give it to me when I get home,” he added, as he tried to remove some of the dirt with wisps of grass.

“Take your handkerchief,” advised Ted Melton.

“Huh! And get that all dirt, too?” asked Tommy.

“You can wash that off in the brook.”

“That’s right, so I can,” and Tommy began a vigorous scrubbing of his clothes with a handkerchief that was already pretty soiled.

“Say, what is this—a ball game or a laundry?” asked Sammie Small. “If you fellows want to clean your clothes, stand back and let us play ball. We want our innings out of this game!”

Ted and Tommy moved back out of the way, and the game went on.

“Two out all out, isn’t it?” asked Sammie, as George Squire knocked a little fly that was caught by Dan.

“Yes, two out all out,” agreed Tommy. “Say, I wish we had enough for a regular nine,” he went on. “I’d like to play in a match game.”

“You’re too small.”

“I am not. Some day I’m going to get up a regular nine, and have uniforms, and bases, and a lot of balls, so if we lose one we don’t have to stop the game. I wish——”

“You’re out!” interrupted Dan, calling to Frank Nixon, who was up at the bat. “Three strikes and you’re out! Sam caught that last one.”

“That’s only two strikes!”

“It’s three!” repeated Dan.

“I’ll leave it to Tommy!” cried the other. “Was that three strikes, Tommy?”

“I didn’t see,” our hero was forced to admit. “I was cleaning the dust off my clothes. But we’ll give it. Come out in the field, fellows,” he called to his side.

“Huh! That’s a hot way to play,” complained Frank. “It was only two strikes!”

“Never mind, we got two runs,” consoled Patsie, who had come in when Sammie missed a ball that the pitcher threw to him.

The game went on for some time, and the boys had much fun and several disputes, but there was no real quarrel, and they easily forgot their little differences.

When it came time for the fifth inning, which was the last they were to play, Dan’s team got one run.

“Two more and we’ll beat!” he called to his friends.

“Don’t let ’em get anything!” advised Patsie.

“I won’t,” declared Tommy, who was pitching, and he kept his word, for that one run was all Dan’s side got that inning, and Tommy’s team won the game by seven runs to six.

“Let’s see if we can’t get more fellows here to-morrow, and have a better game. I wish we had more bats. One isn’t enough. And we need some more balls. This one is losing the cover,” said Tommy.

“Say, you’ll be a professional if you keep on,” exclaimed Dan, laughing.

“I’d like to be,” answered Tommy, and then he and the other lads picked up their books and walked off the field, talking of the fun they had had.

“Oh, Tommy Tiptop!” exclaimed his sister Nellie, who met her brother a little later as he was nearing home. “You’ll get it! Look at your clothes!”

“Does the dirt show much?” asked Tommy, anxiously.

“Oh, it’s awful! Isn’t it, Grace?” and Nellie turned to a girl with her.

“Couldn’t help it—had to slide home to keep from getting put out,” murmured the young ball player. “Say, Nellie, do you s’pose ma’ll say much?”

“No, I guess not; there’s too much going on at home,” answered Nellie.

“What’s going on?” asked Tommy quickly.

“It’s a secret, and I’m not going to tell you,” replied his sister. “You wouldn’t let me come fishing with you the other day, and I’m not going to tell.”

“Huh! Girls can’t fish. They’re afraid to put the worms on the hook,” retorted Tommy. “But I’ll let you come next time I go, if you’ll tell me the secret.”

“Nope. I haven’t told anybody but Grace, and I’m not going to.”

“Well, I don’t care; keep your old secret, then! I’ll get one of my own, and, anyhow, ma’ll tell me when I get home,” said Tommy, and broke into a run to find out what the news was that had caused his sister to act so strangely.

CHAPTER II
TOMMY MOVES AWAY

“Why, ma, what’s the matter?” cried Tommy, bursting into the house a little later. “What has happened? Was there a fire?”

Well might he ask, for the house, that was usually in such trim order, was now in confusion. The chairs were scattered about, and his mother was up on a step-ladder taking down the pictures from the wall, while out in the kitchen Mrs. Norah Flannigan, the washerwoman, was doing up dishes in pieces of newspaper and putting them in barrels and boxes.

“What’s the matter, ma?” asked Tommy again, pausing in the doorway.

“Nothing, Tommy, dear,” answered his mother. “We are going to move away, that’s all. Get on your old suit, and you can help. Oh, what has happened to your clothes?” she added as she looked more closely at him.

“I slid in the dust, playing ball. But, ma, are we really going to move away? Where? When? I didn’t hear anything about it before. Is this the secret Nellie meant?”

“I guess so, dear. Oh, that’s your best school suit, and now I’ve got to stop and scrub it, and it will never look the same again. Oh, Tommy!”

“I didn’t mean to, ma,” he answered, tossing his books down on a chair and looking for a good safe place in which to stand up the baseball bat. “I just slid. Then I tried to clean the dust off with bunches of grass and my handkerchief. My handkerchief’s real clean,” he went on. “I washed it out in the brook.” And he pulled out a limp and damp rag to show.

“Yes, and then you put it in your pocket all wet; didn’t you, Tommy?”

“I—I guess I did, ma.”

“Oh, what creatures boys are! No, Mrs. Flannigan!” Mrs. Tiptop suddenly called to the washerwoman, who was packing the dishes, “don’t put that big platter on top of the small cups. Put the big dishes on the bottom of the box, and the light ones on top.”

“All right, mum. Sure, movin’ is a terrible thing, isn’t it, mum?”

“Indeed it is, Mrs. Flannigan. Now, Tommy, just slip on your old clothes and you can help. I wish Nellie was here. I need her.”

“She’s coming—I just met her. But why are we moving, ma, and what’s the rush?”

“Your papa has a new position in Riverdale, and we are going to live in a nice large house there. We didn’t expect to go so soon, and I thought I would have more time to pack, but they want your father there right away, and so we are going to-morrow.”

“But I didn’t hear anything about it,” insisted Tommy.

“No, we hadn’t quite made up our minds until last night, and we didn’t expect to move for a week. Then word came this noon that we would have to be in Riverdale by to-morrow, so your father had to go out and get some vans for the furniture. I told Nellie about it this noon, but you rushed off in such a hurry after dinner that I didn’t get a chance to speak to you.”

“I wanted to play ball,” explained Tommy. “Oh, say, I don’t want to move, ma!”

“Why not?” and Mrs. Tiptop looked down on Tommy from the step-ladder, carefully holding a picture she had just taken off the wall. “Why not, my son?”

“Why, I won’t know any of the fellows there; I’ll have to go to a new school, and I’ve just started a baseball nine here. Oh, ma, can’t I stay here? I could board at Patsie Cook’s house. His ma is awful good, and she makes dandy cake! I don’t want to move.”

“Well, I’m afraid you’ll have to go with us, Tommy,” said his mother. “Come now, help me. You’ll like it in Riverdale, I’m sure, and you’ll soon get used to the new school. I dare say you’ll find just as nice boys there as there are here, and you can start a baseball nine there. Come now, get on your old clothes, and you can wrap newspapers around these pictures, but don’t break the glass.”

“Oh, dear! I don’t want to move!” exclaimed Tommy, but there was no help for it.

His sister Nellie came in a little later.

“Pooh! Now I know the secret!” exclaimed Tommy.

“Well, I knew it first,” said the girl, who was two years younger than her brother, but who sometimes acted as if she thought she was older.

“You’ve got to help ma,” went on Tommy. “I wonder what it’s like in Riverdale?”

“It’s nice there. Grace Reynolds has a cousin who lives in Riverdale, and she’s going to be my friend, and sometimes Grace is coming to see us.”

“I hope there are lots of fellows there,” said Tommy. “I want to play ball.”

“That’s all you think of,” retorted Nellie.

“Children, aren’t you coming down to help?” called Mrs. Tiptop from the foot of the stairs, for brother and sister were in their rooms, changing their clothes, and calling to one another through the walls.

Once the shock of learning that he was going to move away from Millton—where he had lived all his life—had passed away, Tommy rather liked the idea of the change. He felt that it was quite an important event to move, and he began to plan how he would set about organizing his baseball nine.

“I guess I’ll call my nine the Riverdale Roarers,” he decided as he slipped on his old trousers. “If we could get jackets with ‘R. R.’ on, they’d look fine. I’m going to ask ma if I can.”

But when he got downstairs he found his father there, and listened to what his parents were talking about.

“The moving vans will be here the first thing in the morning,” explained Mr. Tiptop, “and the man says we needn’t bother to pack much besides the dishes and the kitchen things. They will attend to the rest. Hello, Tommy, how will you like it?”

“All right, I guess, pa, if I can play ball.”

“Oh, you can play ball, I think. But now, come on. I want you to help me nail up some boxes.”

“Then Nellie must wrap paper on the pictures,” decided Mrs. Tiptop. And from then on there was a busy time in that house.

When the supper hour arrived, considerable packing had been done, and then, after the meal, they did more, so that by night they were almost ready for the vans.

Tommy dreamed that he was playing ball inside of one of the big padded wagons, and that he tried to run around the bases, carrying a chair in one hand and a big platter in the other. Then someone shouted:

“Tommy, Tommy! Get up!”

“All right, I’m going to slide for home!” he answered, for he imagined it was one of his baseball companions shouting to him. Then he awakened and realized that it was his father calling to him to get up.

“Hurry!” said Mr. Tiptop. “The vans will soon be here, and we must get through with breakfast.”

“And no school to-day!” cried Tommy in delight, as he hopped out of bed.

The confusion, which had started the evening before, was worse now, for everything seemed upset. Mrs. Tiptop managed to get a simple breakfast, and then there came a rumbling noise outside the house.

“It’s the vans!” cried Tommy, running to a window. “Hurry! Now for some fun! Whoop!”

“Now, don’t get in the men’s way,” advised Mr. Tiptop, as he went out to speak to the movers.

Then began an even more busy time. The men came into the house, looked over the things to be put in the vans, and began carrying out the piano and other heavy articles.

“I’m going to help!” cried Tommy, as he seized a chair and started out with it.

“Tommy! Tommy!” cried his mother. “That’s too heavy for you!”

“No, ma, it isn’t,” he answered, as he thought of how he had often carried heavy logs when the boys were making a bonfire. “I can manage it.”

He went out with the chair to the vans, narrowly escaping a collision with two men carrying a big bureau.

“Look out, youngster,” advised one of the men as they came out of the van after having put the bureau inside. “You might get stepped on.”

“By one of the horses?” asked Tommy, anxiously.

“Well, no, not exactly,” replied the man. “I meant by one of us. I wouldn’t mean to step on you, of course,” he said; “but I’ve got powerful big feet, an’ when I steps on anything something generally happens—not always, but generally. Of course I wouldn’t want to step on you, but I might do it, accidental like,” and the man lifted up his foot and looked at it as though deciding what he would step on next. And, truly, it was a very big foot in a very large shoe. Tommy did not like the appearance of it, and yet the man seemed kind.

“Just don’t get in the way, so’s you’ll get stepped on, youngster, that’s all I advise you,” went on the man, and Tommy promised that he would be careful. After that, when he carried out chairs and light pieces of furniture, he always looked to see if the man with the big feet was at a safe distance.

The moving men, even the one who was afraid he would step on Tommy, were good-natured, and they worked well. Nellie was helping her mother, and Mr. Tiptop was very busy also. Tommy was carrying out a wash-bench, when several of his boy friends came along the street.

“What’s up?” asked Sammie Small.

“Moving. Going to Riverdale,” replied Tommy, proudly.

“Aren’t you coming to school?” asked Patsie Cook.

“Nope!”

“Say, I wish we were moving,” added Dan Danforth. “Want any help, Tommy?” he asked, hopefully, thinking this would be an excuse for him to stay away from school.

“Now, you boys run along,” advised one of the moving men, “or you might get stepped on,” and once more he looked at his big feet, raising one after the other slowly, as if to make sure he had not left any of them in the van by mistake.

“Say, it’s too bad you’re going to move away, Tommy,” spoke Dan. “Just when the baseball season is starting, too.”

“Oh, I’m going to organize a nine in Riverdale,” said Tommy, as if he had organized ball teams all his life.

“You are?” cried Patsie.

“Sure!”

“Then maybe we’ll get up a team and play you,” went on Dan. “It isn’t far to Riverdale.”

“I wish you would,” said Tommy. “It will be great sport. Say, now I’ve got to help carry out some more chairs. Good-by, fellows, if I don’t see you again.”

They all called good-by to Tommy and hurried on to school, looking back regretfully.

At last all the things in the house had been packed in the vans and the men were ready to drive off with them.

“Everything out?” asked the head mover of Mr. Tiptop.

“I guess so,” he answered. “I’ll take a trolley car, and I think we’ll be there ahead of you. It’s only about a ten-mile drive to Riverdale. I’m glad nothing got broken.”

“And I’m glad nobody got stepped on,” said the man with the big feet, as he looked first at Tommy and then at his own large shoes. “I’m real glad of that.”

Then Tommy had an idea, as he saw the head mover climbing to the big seat, high up on the van.

“Can’t I ride with him?” asked Tommy, pointing to the man. “I don’t want to go in the trolley. It’s no fun. Let me ride on the wagon, mamma.”

“Moving; Going to Riverdale,” Replied Tommy, Proudly.

“Shall we?” asked Mrs. Tiptop of her husband, doubtfully.

“Oh, I guess it will be all right, if he isn’t a bother.”

“No bother at all,” the head mover assured Mr. Tiptop. The man seemed to have taken a liking to Tommy. “I’ll look after him,” he went on. “The drive will do him good, and there’s no hurry. He’ll be safe.”

“And there’s no danger of him getting stepped on up there, either,” went on the man with the big feet, who seemed to worry about treading on someone.

“Now for some fun!” cried Tommy as he caught up his ball and bat, which he had refused to allow to be packed with the other things. “I’ll see you in Riverdale!” he called to his mother, father and sister, as the head driver helped him up to the high seat.

And then, holding his ball and bat firmly in his arms, Tommy waved his hands to those down below. The drivers called to their horses, the vans rumbled on, and Mr. and Mrs. Tiptop gave one last look toward the house that had been their home for so many years. Then they started for the trolley that was to take them to Riverdale.

“Do you play ball?” asked the head driver of Tommy, on the seat beside him.

“Yes, and I’m going to organize a nine in Riverdale.”

“Good! I’ll come to see you play. I used to like the game myself,” and the man cracked his whip in the air.

So Tommy Tiptop moved away from Millton, and as he thought of the new home to which he was going he wondered whether he would have a good time there, and whether the boys would like baseball as much as he did.

CHAPTER III
TOMMY HAS AN ACCIDENT

“Now, be careful of yourself, Tommy,” his mother stopped to call to him as he sat on the high seat of the moving van. “Don’t fall off, and don’t stop on the road. We’ll be there ahead of you, and I’ll try and have something ready to eat.”

“All right, mother,” replied Tommy, feeling that he was quite an important young man now. “I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll look after him,” promised the moving man.

“And nobody will step on him,” added the helper—the one with the big feet.

Then Tommy was fairly started on his journey, and he looked down from the high seat, almost wishing that he was a van driver, instead of going to be merely a baseball player.

“Are you the captain?” asked the moving man, suddenly.

“Captain of what?” asked Tommy.

“Of the baseball nine.”

“No, I haven’t really got it started yet. You see, I don’t know any of the boys in that place we’re going to, but if I can get up a team, I may be manager or captain. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Oh,” said the man, and then he laughed, and Tommy wondered why.

“They’re a good team,” said the man after a while.

“What team?” asked Tommy quickly.

“My horses,” replied the moving man. “They can pull a heavy load.”

“Oh, I thought you were speaking about a ball team,” said Tommy. “Yes, they’re nice horses.”

Tommy was so busy thinking of the many things that had happened in the last few hours that he did not feel much like talking. It hardly seemed possible that it was only a short time ago that he had been playing ball with his boy friends, and now he was moving away. But it was true.

The van rumbled along the streets until it came to the open country, and then it was not so noisy, as the wheels rolled along on the soft dirt of the roads.

“Will we be there by dinner time?” asked Tommy, who wondered what one did about meals when it was moving day.

“Oh, yes, we’ll easily be there by noon,” replied the man; “that is, if we don’t have an accident.”

“What kind of an accident?” asked Tommy.

“Oh, a wheel coming off the van, or a horse falling down, or something like that.”

“Did you ever have any accidents?” asked Tommy.

“A few,” replied the man. “I was a week once getting a load two miles.”

“How did it happen?”

“Well, you see, we broke an axle, and we had a van filled with goods. The man who owned them was in no hurry, so we just left them in the wagon, jacked the front part up, put on a new axle, and in a week we started off again. The blacksmith was so busy, he couldn’t make an axle in less than a week.”

“And did you stay on the van all that while and have nothing to eat?” asked Tommy, wondering what would happen if an accident like that should occur now.

“Bless your heart, no! I took the horses to a stable and I went home. When the axle was fixed, the blacksmith sent word to me, and I came and finished the moving. I couldn’t go a week without eating, you know—nobody could.”

“I guess that’s right,” admitted Tommy, and he felt a sort of gnawing pain in his stomach, as if he was even now getting hungry. And it was no wonder, for breakfast had been eaten very early that morning.

As the van swayed to and fro over the rather rough road, Tommy had to hold tightly to the sides of the seat, and with his ball and bat to look after this was not so easily done.

“You’d have done better to have put them in the van,” said the moving man, looking at the baseball things.

“They might have got broken,” said Tommy.

“Yes, they might,” admitted the man.

They rode on for some miles. The sun climbed higher and higher in the sky, and it seemed to be about noon, and still the man did not say that they were near Riverdale. The other van—for there had been two of them—was out of sight now, having started off a little in advance of the one on which our young hero rode.

“What will we do if we don’t get there in time for dinner?” asked Tommy after a while.

“Oh, we’ll get there,” said the man, confidently.

Just then the wagon went over a rather large stone, gave a lurch and swayed to one side.

“Look out!” cried the man, pulling on the reins sharply and making a grab for Tommy. The lad grasped the side of the seat with both hands to save himself from falling, and to do this he had to let go of his ball and bat. They both slipped down, and the next instant there was the sound of splintering wood.

“Whoa!” cried the moving man, sharply. “What’s that? Is something broken—a wheel?” He pulled in the horses, which had almost stopped of their own accord.

“It isn’t a wheel,” said Tommy. “It’s my bat. A wheel ran over it, and it’s broken.”

“What, the wheel?” cried the man. “Don’t tell me the wheel is broken!”

“No, it’s my bat,” answered Tommy, and he spoke sorrowfully, for he had saved up his spare change for some time to buy that bat, and he liked it very much.

“Oh, your bat!” exclaimed the man. “That’s too bad! Wait, I’ll get it for you, and maybe you can mend it.”

“The ball, too,” exclaimed Tommy. “That fell.”

“Yes, I see the ball. That rolled to one side and isn’t hurt a bit. But that bat—well, maybe you can put some wire on it,” and the moving man handed the horse reins to Tommy.

“Do you want me to hold them?” asked the boy.

“Sure. They’ll stand steady. Just hold the lines from slipping, and I’ll get the bat for you.”

Tommy Tiptop felt very proud as he sat there on the high seat, holding the reins of the four horses, and he looked over the side to watch the man pick up the ball and bat. The ball was found first, for that had merely rolled into the dust. Then the man called out:

“Too bad! The bat is broken in three pieces, and it isn’t worth mending. Never mind. I think I’ve got an old bat at home, and the next time I’m in Riverdale I’ll bring it to you.”

“Will you, really?” asked Tommy, and he did not feel so sorry now. The man climbed up to the high seat again, and, taking the reins, called to the horses. They stepped out slowly, for there was quite a hill in front of them, and they knew that it would be hard work getting up it.

“Well, if that’s the only accident we have we’ll be lucky,” remarked the moving man as he cracked his whip. “This place is a little farther than I thought it was. I don’t believe we’re going to make it before one o’clock.”

“Maybe they won’t save any dinner for me,” exclaimed Tommy.

“Oh, I guess they will. If they don’t, you can have some of my lunch. I have a whole pail full, that my wife put up for me this morning, and there’s more than I need. Don’t worry.”

They were at the foot of the hill now, and the horses settled themselves into the collars to pull the heavy van up the slope.

Suddenly there was a cracking sound, and the van gave a lurch. It settled down on one side, as though one of the wheels had gone into a hole.

“Look out!” yelled the man. He grabbed Tommy, and only just in time, or our hero would have fallen off. But Tommy had a glimpse of what had happened.

“It’s the wheel this time!” he cried, as the horses came to a stop.

“What about it?” asked the man, as he got ready to go down.

“It came off, and it rolled over in the bushes. It isn’t broken, but it came off.”

“Just my luck!” cried the man. “Talk about accidents, and they’re sure to happen. The nut came loose, and the wheel rolled off. Is the axle broken? I mean the black piece of iron sticking out, that the wheel goes on. Is that broken?”

“No,” reported Tommy, taking another look. “That’s all right.”

“Then it isn’t so bad, if I can find the nut that holds the wheel on. We’ll have to look for it. Wait now, I’ll help you get down.”

It was not easy to get off the high seat of the van, all tilted to one side as it was, but they managed it.

“Now, we’ll see if we can find the nut,” suggested the moving man, when he had looked at the axle and made sure that it was not broken. It had dug itself away down into the dirt of the road, though.

So Tommy and the man looked all around for the nut, but they could not find it. It had probably come off some time before the accident happened, and was lying far back in the road.

“I ought to have an extra nut,” went on the man, as he poked about in the dust and bushes with a stick. “Now I’m in a pretty pickle!”

“Why, can’t we go on to Riverdale?” asked Tommy.

“No, not a step. I’ve got to go to the nearest blacksmith shop and get a nut. We’ll have to give the horses their dinners, and let them stay here in the shade,” and the man went over and began unhitching the animals. Tommy noticed that there were nose-bags filled with hay and oats on the back of the van.

“The horses will have a good dinner and a rest,” said the moving man.

“Yes,” replied Tommy, slowly, “but what about you and me? I—I’m afraid I’m hungry!”

“Shouldn’t blame you a bit,” replied the moving man. “I am myself. But don’t worry. I’ve got a big pail full of lunch, and we’ll have a regular picnic here—you and I—and then, after we eat, I’ll go see if I can find a blacksmith shop and get a nut.”

After putting the nose-bags on the horses’ heads and tying the animals to a fence, in the shade of a big tree, the moving man got out a big tin dinner pail from under the van seat.

“Now we’ll have a fine meal,” he exclaimed. “My wife always puts me up a big lunch when I take moving loads out into the country. I know there are sandwiches and pie, and I’m pretty sure there are cookies. And in the top part of the pail there is, most likely, some rich milk. Oh, but we’ll have a fine dinner, even if we did have an accident!”

So he opened the pail. Suddenly he looked into it, as though something was the matter. Then he poked his fingers down inside the tin.

“Why—what—what’s the matter?” asked Tommy in wonder.

“Matter!” exclaimed the man. “Matter! Everything is the matter! There isn’t a bit of lunch in the pail! Not a crumb! I must have taken the wrong pail this morning, for I have two. We haven’t a thing to eat, Tommy Tiptop! Here are only two empty tin cups in the pail, and my knife and fork wrapped up in a napkin! My! This is too bad!”

CHAPTER IV
TOMMY STARTS HIS NINE

For a few moments Tommy Tiptop just stood there, staring at the moving man. The moving man looked into the dinner pail again, as if possibly there might be something hidden in it which he had not at first seen. Tommy peered over and also looked into the pail.

“It isn’t any use,” said the moving man with a sigh. “There isn’t a thing here—not a thing.”

“Then we haven’t anything to eat, have we?” asked Tommy, faintly.

“No,” answered the man sadly, as he rattled the two cups in the pail. “That is, unless you can chew tin. I know I can’t,” he added, with a sigh.

“Me either,” went on Tommy. Then he looked off across the fields toward a large, white farmhouse. Next he looked at the horses standing comfortably in the shade, eating their oats from the bags that hung on their heads.

“I wish——” began Tommy, and then the moving man interrupted him by saying:

“I do myself, young man. I wish I was a horse, for they are getting over being hungry, and I am getting hungrier all the while. Is that what you were going to say?”