“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.