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

[Pg 5]

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——”

[Pg 8]

“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[Pg 9] 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[Pg 10] 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.”

[Pg 11]

“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.

[Pg 12]

“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[Pg 13] 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.

[Pg 14]

“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.

[Pg 15]

“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.

[Pg 16]

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[Pg 17] 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.”

[Pg 18]

“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.

[Pg 19]

“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.