CHAPTER I

SOME OF THE SCRANTON BOYS

"Too bad that rain had to come, and spoil our practice for today, boys!"

"Yes, and there's only one more chance for a work-out between now and the game with Belleville on Saturday afternoon, worse luck, because here it's Thursday."

"We need all the practice we can get, because if that O.K. fellow, who dropped in to see us from Belleville, tells the truth, both his club and Allandale are stronger than last year. Besides, I hear they have each set their hearts on winning the championship of the Three Town High School League this season."

"For one, I know I need more work at the bat. I've improved some, but I'm not satisfied with myself yet."

"You've improved a whole lot, Owen!"

"That's right, 'Just' Smith, he's made such progress in bunting, and picking out drops and curves and fast ones, under the watchful eye of our field captain, Hugh Morgan here, that several other fellows on the nine are below him in batting average right now, and I regret to say I'm one of the lot."

The boy who answered to the name of Owen turned red at hearing this honest praise on the part of his fellow students of Scranton High; but his eyes sparkled with genuine pleasure at the same time.

A bunch of well-grown and athletic-looking high-school boys had left the green campus, with its historical fence, behind them, and were on their way home. It was in the neighborhood of two o'clock, with school over for the day.

Just as one of them had said, a drizzly rain in the morning had spoiled all chance for that day of doing any practice in the way of playing ball. Mr. Leonard, second principal of the Scranton schools under Dr. Carmack (who was also county supervisor, with dominion over the Allandale and Belleville schools), had consented to act as coach to the baseball team this season. He was a Princeton grad. and had gained quite some little fame as a member of the Tiger nine that swept Yale off its feet one great year.

Besides Owen Dugdale, there were "Just" Smith, Thad Stevens, Hugh Morgan, Kenneth Kinkaid and Horatio Juggins in the bunch that started off from the school grounds in company, though they would presently break away as they neared their several homes.

"Just" Smith had another name, for he had been christened Justin; but he himself, in answering to the calls for Smith, would always call out "Just Smith, that's all," and in the course of time it clung to him like a leech.

Kenneth Kinkaid, too, was known far and wide as "K.K.," which of course was only an abbreviation of his name. Some said he was a great admirer of Lord Kitchener, who had recently lost his life on the sea when the vessel on which he had started for Russia was sunk by a German mine or submarine; and that Kenneth eagerly took advantage of his initials, being similar to those of Kitchener of Khartoum fame.

Horatio Juggins was an elongated chap whose specialty, besides capturing balloon fliers out in right field with wonderful celerity, consisted in great throwing to the home plate, and also some slugging when at bat.

Thad Stevens was the catcher, and a good one at that, everybody seemed to believe. He, too, could take his part in a "swat-fest" when a rally was needed to pull the Scranton boys out of a bad hole. Thad had always been a close chum of the captain of the team, Hugh Morgan. Together they had passed through quite a number of camp outings, and were said to be like twins, so far as never quarreling went.

This same Hugh was really a clever fellow, well liked by most of the Scranton folks, who admired his high sense of honor. He was averse to fighting, and had really never been known to indulge in such things, owing to a promise made to his mother, the nature of which the new reader can learn if he wishes, by securing the first volume of this Series. In so doing he will also learn how on one momentous occasion the peace-loving Hugh was brought face to face with a dilemma as to whether he should hold his hand, and allow a weaker friend to be brutally mauled by the detestable town bully, Nick Lang, or stand up in his defense; also just how he acquitted himself in such an emergency.

First "K.K." dropped away from the group as he came to the corner that was nearest his home. Boy-like, he sang out to the rest as he swung aside:

"I'm as hungry as a bear, fellows, and I happen to know our hired girl's going to have corned beef and cabbage for noon today. That's said to be a plebeian dish, but it always appeals to me more than anything else."

"Huh! you needn't boast, K.K.," said the Juggins boy, "over at our house Thursday is religiously given over to vegetable soup, and I'm good for at least three bowls of it every time. Then it's also a baking day, so there'll be fresh bread rolls, as brown on the outside as nuts in November. Whew! I just can't hold back any longer," and with that Horatio started on a dog-trot through a short cut-off that would take him to a gate in the back fence of his home grounds.

So presently when Owen and "Just" Smith had also separated themselves from the balance there were only Thad and Hugh remaining; nor did they waste any time in talking, for a high-school boy is generally ferociously hungry by the time two in the afternoon comes around; although at intermission, around eleven in the morning, in Scranton High they were given an opportunity to buy a lunch from the counter where a few substantial things, as well as fresh milk and chocolate, were dispensed by a woman who was under the supervision of the school directors.

"Since our baseball practice is off for today, Thad," remarked Hugh, as they were about to separate, "suppose you drop over and join me. I've got an errand out a short distance in the country, and we can walk it, as the roads are too muddy and slippery for our wheels."

"Yes, I have hated riding on slippery roads ever since I had that nasty spill, and hurt my elbow last winter," replied the other, rubbing his left arm tenderly at the same time, as though even the recollection after months had passed caused him to have tender memories of the pain he had endured. "Lucky it wasn't my right wing that got the crack, Hugh, because it sometimes feels sore even now, and I'm sure it would interfere with my throwing down to second. But of course I'll join you. I've nothing else that I want to this afternoon."

"Mother asked me if I'd go out to the Sadler Farm for her the first chance I got, and already it's been put off too long, owing to our keeping continually at practice every afternoon this week. She gets her fresh sweet butter from Mrs. Sadler, and their horse is sick, so they don't deliver it nowadays. Look for you inside of half an hour, Thad."

"I'll be along, never fear," sang out his chum, as he hurried off, doubtless smelling in imagination the fine warm lunch his devoted mother always kept for him on the back of the stove.

Thad was at the back door of the Morgan house inside of the stipulated time, and being perfectly at home there he never bothered knocking, but stalked right in, to find Hugh doing something in his own room. Like most high-school boys' "dens," this apartment was a regular curiosity shop, for the walls were fairly covered with college pennants, and all manner of things connected with athletic sports, as well as pictures that indicated a love for fishing and gunning on the part of the young occupant; but every illustration was well chosen, and free from the slightest taint of anything bordering on the vulgar or the sensational. There was not a single picture of a notorious or famous boxer; or any theatrical beauties, to be seen. Evidently Hugh's fancy ran along the lines of clean sport, and healthy outdoor exercise.

So the two chums started off for a walk, their pace a brisk one, because the air after that recent spell of rain was quite cool and invigorating, Indeed, once Thad even deplored the fact that Mr. Leonard had thought it best to call off practice for that afternoon.

"Well," remarked Hugh on hearing him say that, "Mr. Leonard was of the opinion we were rather overdoing the matter, and might go stale. He told me so, and said that in his experience he had known more than a few teams to overdo things, and lose their best gait in too much work. He says one more test ought to put the proper fighting spirit in us, and that he feels confident we'll be keyed up to top-notch speed by tomorrow night. I think our pitcher, Alan Tyree, is doing better than ever before in his life; and those Belleville sluggers are going to run up against a surprise if they expect him to be an easy mark."

In due time they reached the farm, and securing several pounds of freshly-made butter that had not even been salted, and was called "sweet butter," they started back. Thad proposed that they take a roundabout route home, just for a change; and this small thing was fated to bring them into contact with a trifling adventure that would cause them both considerable bewilderment, and be a cause for conjecture for days and weeks to come.

"I smell wood smoke," remarked Thad, after they had gone about a third of the distance; "and as the wind is almost dead ahead the fire must be in that direction. There's no house in that quarter that I remember, Hugh. There, now can see smoke coming out of that thin patch of woods yonder. I wonder if they're meaning to cut those trees down and clear more land?"

"No, you're away off there, Thad," remarked Hugh, just then. "I can glimpse the fire now, and there's just one chap hanging over it. Don't you see he's a Weary Willie of a hobo, who's getting his dinner ready with wet wood. Here's a chance for us to see just how the thing is done, so let's make him a friendly call!"

CHAPTER II

THE MAN WITH THE COUGH

Thad seemed quite agreeable.

"Do you know I've never come in close contact with any tramp," he went on to remark, as they turned their faces toward the patch of trees where the smoke arose, "and I've always wanted to watch just how they managed. I note that this fellow has a couple of old tomato cans he's picked up on some dump, and they're set over the fire to warm up some coffee, or something he's evidently gotten at a back door. Perhaps he'll be sociable, and invite us to join him in his afternoon meal. I guess they eat at any old time, just as the notion seizes them, eh, Hugh?"

"They're a good deal like savages in that respect, I understand," the other told him. "You know Indians often go a whole day without breaking their fast; but when they do eat they stuff themselves until they nearly burst. There, he has seen us coming in, for he's shading his eyes with his hand, and taking a good look."

"I hope we haven't given him a scare," chuckled Thad, "under the impression that one of us may be the sheriff, or some indignant farmer who's lost some of his chickens lately, and traced them feathers to this camping spot."

The hobo, however, did not attempt to run. He watched their approach with interest, and even waved a friendly hand toward the two lads.

"Why, evidently he's something of a jolly dog," remarked the surprised Thad, "and there are no chicken feathers around that I can notice. Hello, bo', getting your five o'clock tea ready, I see."

At these last words, called out louder than ordinary, the man in the ragged and well-worn garments grinned amiably.

"Well, now, young feller," he went on to say in a voice that somehow was not unpleasant to Hugh's ear, "that's about the size of it. I haven't had a bite since sun-up this morning, and I'm near caving in. Out for a walk, are you, lads?"

"Oh! we live in Scranton," Hugh explained, "and I had an errand up beyond. We went by another road, and came back this way, which is why we sighted your smoke. Fact is, Thad, my chum here, has never seen a knight of the railroad ties cooking his grub, and he said he'd like to drop in and learn just how you managed, because he's read so much about how splendidly tramps get on."

"That's all right, young feller," said the other, cheerily. "Find seats on that log yonder. I ain't got much in my larder today, but what there is will fill a mighty big vacuum in my interior, let me tell you. This here is coffee in the first can—-mebbe not just what you boys is accustomed to at your breakfast tables, but good enough for me when it's piping hot. I don't take any frills with wine either, in the way of cream and sugar, leaving all that for those that sit at white tablecloths and have silver as well as china dishes. In this other can I've got some soup. Never mind where I got it; some ladies, bless their hearts, are pretty kind; and I always make it a point to carry several empty tomater cans with me wherever I go. Besides that, in this newspaper here I've got some bread, and two fine pieces of bologna sausage that I bought in a village I came through. So altogether I'm expecting to have a right swell feast pretty soon."

Thad looked interested in these things. He even peeped into the two cans, and decided that wherever the tramp got that coffee it certainly could be no "slops," for it had the real odor. The warmed-over soup, too, smelled very appetizing, Thad admitted. On the whole, he concluded that tramps were able to make out very well, when they knew the ropes of the game, and how to beg at back doors.

Hugh, on the other hand, was more interested in the man himself than in his limited possessions. He saw that the other was past middle age, for his face was covered with a bristly beard of a week's growth, verging on gray. His cheeks were well filled out, and his blue eyes had what Hugh determined was a humorous gleam about them, as though the man might be rather fond of a joke.

He was the picture of what a regular tramp should be, there could be no getting around that, Hugh determined. He rather believed that, like most of his kind, this fellow also had a history back of him, which would perhaps hardly bear exploiting. Doubtless there were pages turned down in his career, things that he himself seldom liked to remember, giving himself up to a life of freedom from care, and content to take things each day as they came along, under the belief that there were always sympathetic women folks to be found who would not refuse a poor wanderer a meal, or a nickel to help him along his way.

Apparently he had been just about ready to sit down and make way with his meal at the time the boys arrived on the scene; for he now took both tin carts from their resting places over the red embers of his fire, and opening the package produced the bread and the bologna. This latter looked big enough to serve a whole family of six; but then a tramp's appetite is patterned very much on the order of a growing boy's, and knows no limit.

Having spread his intended food around him as he squatted there, the hobo gave the boys a queer look.

"You'll excuse me if I don't ask you to join me, youngsters," he went on to say. "I'd do the same in a jiffy if the supply wasn't limited; besides, I don't know just what sort of a reception I'm going to meet with in your town."

"Oh! no apologies needed, old chap," said Thad, quickly. "We had our lunch only an hour or so ago and couldn't take a bite to save us now. But say everything seems mighty good, if the smell counts for much. So pitch right in and fill up. We'll continue to sit here and chat with you, if you don't mind, Bill."

"That's all right, governor, only my name don't happen to be Bill, even if I belong to the tribe of Weary Willies. I'm known far and wide as Wandering Lu; because, you see, I've traveled all over the whole known world, and been in every country the sun shines on. Just come from the oil regions down in Texas, because, well, my health is failing me, and I'm afraid I'm going into a decline."

At that he started to coughing at a most tremendous rate. Thad looked sympathetic.

"You certainly do seem to have a terribly bad cold, Lu," he told the tramp, as the other drew out a suspicious looking red handkerchief that had seen better days, to wipe the tears from his eyes, after he had succeeded in regaining his breath, following the coughing spell.

The man put a dirty hand in the region of his heart and winced.

"Hurts most around my lungs," he said, "and mebbe I've got the con. I spent some time in a camp where fifty poor folks was sleeping under canvas down in Arizona, and I'm a whole lot afraid I may have caught the disease there. So, being afraid my time would soon come I just made up my mind to look up a sister of mine that I ain't heard a word from for twenty years or more, and see if she was in a position to support me the short time I'd have to live."

Thad heard this with evident interest. At the same time it occurred to him the stalwart tramp was hardly a fit subject for a speedy death; indeed, he looked as though he might hold out for a good many years still, except when he fell into one of those coughing spells, and seemed to be racked from head to foot with the exertion.

Hugh saw that the fellow had an engaging manner, and a smooth tongue. He was trying to make out just what sort of a man this same Lu might be, if one could read him aright. Was he crooked, and inclined to evil ways; or, on the other hand, could he be taken at face value and set down as a pretty square sort of a fellow?

"Listen, young fellers," remarked the still eating hobo, later on, "didn't you tell me you lived in the place called Scranton, when you're to home?"

"Yes, that's so," Thad assured him. "Know anybody there, Lu, and do you want us to take him your best compliments?"

The tramp grinned amiably.

"I reckon you're something of a joker, younker," he went on to say. "Now, about the folks in Scranton, I suppose you boys know about everybody in town?"

"Well, hardly that," Hugh told him, "since Scranton is a place of some seven or eight thousand inhabitants, and new people are constantly coming in."

"All the same," added Thad, "we do know a good many, and it's just as likely we might be acquainted with your friend. What's his name, Wandering Lu?"

"First place, it ain't a he at all, but a lady," the other explained, looking a little serious for once.

"Oh! excuse the mistake, will you?" chuckled Thad, highly amused at the airs the disreputable looking grizzled old chap put on when he made this statement. "Well, we have some acquaintance among the ladies of the town also. They're nearly all deeply interested just now in helping Madame Pangborn do Red Cross work for her beloved poilus over in brave France. I suppose now you've traveled through that country in your time, Lu?"

"Up and down and across it for hundreds of miles, afoot, and in trains," quickly replied the old fellow, "and say, there ain't any country under the sun that appeals more to me than France did. If I was twenty years younger, hang me if I wouldn't find a way to cross over there now, and take my place in the trenches along with them bully fighters, the French frog-eaters. But I'm too old; and besides, this awful cough grips me every once in so often."

Even the mention of it set him going again, although this time the spasm was of shorter duration, Hugh noticed; just as though he had shown them what he could do along such lines, and did not want to exhaust himself further.

"But about this lady friend of yours, Lu, would you mind mentioning her name, and then we could tell you if we happen to know any such person in Scranton?" and Thad gave the other a confiding nod as if to invite further confidence.

"Let's see, it was so long back I almost forget that her name was changed after she got hitched to a man. Do you happen to know a chap who goes by the name of Andrew Hosmer?"

The boys exchanged looks.

"That must be the sick husband of Mrs. Hosmer, who sews for my mother," remarked Thad, presently. "Yes, I remember now that his first name is Andrew."

"Tell me," the tramp went on, now eagerly, "is his wife living, do you mean, younker, this Mrs. Hosmer, and is her name Matilda?"