Chapter XVII: In Danger of Fire

Ritter had a smile of confidence on his face and he walked down to the pitcher’s box with something of a swagger.

“Strike the three of ’em out, Reff!” shouted one of the bully’s supporters. “Don’t let ’em see what first looks like.”

“I’ll take care of ’em, don’t worry,” answered Ritter.

A cadet named Jackson was first to the bat. He was not an extra good hitter and now he was nervous.

“Strike one!” was the umpire’s cry as the first ball pitched whizzed over the plate.

“That’s the way to do it, Reff!” came the cry from one of the bully’s cronies.

The next was a ball, but then came two strikes, and much crestfallen Jackson retired, while the supporters of Company A cheered Ritter.

Dale came to the bat next and had one strike called on him. Then he hit out a safety and got to first with ease.

“Hurrah! Now keep up the good work!” cried a supporter of Company B.

As before, Pepper followed Dale. He watched the ball closely, and had two balls called on him and a strike. Then he got just what he wanted and lined out a beautiful two-bagger. Dale was on the alert and by the time Pepper got safely on second he slid home, amid a wild cheering.

“That’s the way to do it!”

“You’ve got Ritter going! Keep up the good work!”

“My, but wasn’t that a beaut of a two base hit?”

Andy was now at the bat. Plainly Ritter was getting nervous and soon he had two balls called on him.

“Don’t let him walk—make him hit it!” was the cry.

“I’ll fix him!” muttered the bully sourly, and then sent in a ball directly over the plate.

Andy was there to meet it, and the way he lined the sphere down to left field was a sight to behold. Down he pounded for first while Pepper legged it for all he was worth for home. The ball came in, but too late and while Pepper was called safe Andy managed to slide to second amid a renewed cheering.

“Thirteen to fourteen!” was the cry. “And only one man out! Now is your chance to tie the score!”

Coulter walked down to the pitcher’s box.

“Keep cool, Reff,” he whispered. “Don’t let them rattle you.”

“They are not rattling me,” was the dogged answer. But the very tone of his voice showed the bully’s nervousness.

Stuffer was now up and he, too, was nervous. He watched the pitcher as a cat watches a mouse. Ritter sent in a ball that was remarkably swift. It came directly for Stuffer’s head and he had barely time to pull back out of the way.

“Ball one!” cried the umpire.

“Say, what do you want to do, kill me?” cried Stuffer angrily.

“I—er—the ball slipped,” answered Ritter lamely.

“Bat it down to the woods, Stuffer!” cried one of the supporters of Company B.

Following the ball came two strikes and the supporters of Company B grew sober, thinking Stuffer would strike out. But then the lad who loved to eat hit the sphere fairly, sending it just over the second baseman’s head. He gained first while Andy, who had stolen to third, came in amid a cheering that was deafening.

“A tie! A tie! The score is a tie!”

Bart Conners, the captain of Company B, was now to the bat. Bart was a better military officer than a baseball player, yet he resolved to do his best for his command. He bunted the ball, reaching first on a fumble by Coulter, while Stuffer got down to second.

Conners was followed by Fred who, so far, had done but little to aid Company B to win the match. Fred had two strikes called on him, and it looked as if he would be put out when he met the sphere fairly and squarely and sent it far down into the center field.

“Run! Run! Everybody run!” was the cry, and amid great excitement Stuffer ran in, followed by Bart. Fred got to third and might have reached home but Ritter got in his way, sending him flat on the grass.

“Two runs! Company B wins!”

“My, but that was a dandy hit!”

“He ought to have come in.”

“Ritter got in his way on purpose!”

“I didn’t do anything of the kind!” growled the pitcher. “If anybody says I did I’ll punch his head!”

“Are you hurt, Fred?” asked Jack, running to his chum’s side.

“I—I guess not,” was Fred’s reply. “But he bumped into me pretty lively.”

A lively discussion followed, and in his rage Reff Ritter threw the ball on the grass.

“You are all down on me—I won’t pitch any more,” he growled, and started to walk from the field.

“As you please,” answered Pepper. “We have won the game anyway.”

“That’s right!” was the cry. “No use of playing it out. Company B wins by the score of 16 to 14,—with only one man out in the ninth.” And so the game came to an end. Some wanted Ritter to pitch the inning out but he positively would not, and nobody cared to take his place.

“Well, it was a great game!” declared Jack. “I never was so interested before in my life.”

“I enjoyed it very much,” said Laura. “I am glad Company B won.”

“So am I,” added Flossie.

“That Ritter seems to be an ugly sort,” was Mr. Ford’s comment.

“He is—especially when he cannot have his own way,” answered the young major.

Following the baseball game came some athletic contests, such as high jumping and hurdling. In the hurdling Emerald Hogan carried off the honors and was greatly applauded. The high jumping contest was won by Henry Lee, who was quiet but a great favorite. One of the girls present presented Henry with a big bouquet, which made the athlete blush deeply.

The guests who had been especially invited by Captain Putnam and the cadets to the contests were also asked to remain to a collation. Cake and ice-cream had been brought from one of the summer hotels down the lake shore, and these were served, with lemonade, by the boys. Jack and his chums found seats under an awning for the Fords and did all they could to make the girls comfortable.

“It must be jolly to camp out!” declared Flossie. “Papa, we must try it some time.”

“It is fine—when it doesn’t rain,” answered Andy.

“Or the mosquitoes don’t get too lively,” added Pepper, and at this there was a general laugh.

The only cadets who did not enter into the spirit of the celebration were Reff Ritter and his cronies. Ritter did not wait for cake and ice-cream, but walked away into the woods, taking Coulter, Paxton and Billy Sabine with him.

“It makes me sick—the way the other crowd crow!” declared the defeated pitcher. “They won by a fluke, that’s all.”

“Sure that’s all,” declared Coulter, who had made several bad errors behind the bat. “But just wait, we’ll wax ’em next time!”

“Sure we will!”

“Say, what about that hornets’ nest?” asked Sabine. “Thought you fellows said something about using it.”

“We will—but there is no hurry,” answered Ritter. “Just wait till some night when the Ruddy crowd have a celebration—we’ll make it lively for ’em!” And he laughed coarsely.

By nightfall the festivities came to an end and the visitors departed for home. Some of the boys wanted to build a big bonfire, to celebrate the baseball victory during the evening, but Captain Putnam would not allow it.

“The wind is rising and it is very shifty,” said the master of the school. “If the fire got to blowing among the tents we might have trouble.”

“Oh, I don’t think the fire would hurt anything,” grumbled Dale.

“Well, you never can tell,” answered Fred. Some wood had been gathered for the fire by Dale, Pepper, Andy and Fred, and the quartet were much disappointed when they found they could not start the blaze. Fred had thought to start the fire in a new way—by putting some carbide from a bicycle lamp on the ground in a little water and then igniting the gas formed by the combination. He forgot to put the carbide holder away, leaving it on the pile of wood.

Captain Putnam was right about the wind, it was steadily rising and blowing first from one direction and then another.

“Have your men peg down the tents good and tight,” said the captain to Major Jack, and the young commander of the battalion at once issued the necessary orders.

By bedtime the wind was blowing almost a gale. Then, however, it appeared to die down. The guards were set as usual. Reff Ritter was stationed on Post 3, while Sabine was on Post 2. At the other end of that side of the encampment, on Post 4, was a cadet named Mason.

“It’s a raw night to be out,” grumbled Ritter to Sabine, when the two met.

“That’s so,” was the answer. “I’ll be glad to get under the covers when my time is up.”

“I think I’ll smoke a cigarette,” went on Reff Ritter, looking around to see if anybody was in that vicinity.

“Don’t let anybody catch you at it,” said Sabine, who well knew that cigarette smoking was against the rules.

Ritter got out a cigarette and, not without difficulty, lit it. He took several puffs and inhaled the smoke.

“Have one,” he said, and passed over the box.

“Thanks, I will,” answered Billy Sabine weakly. He did not wish to smoke, but he did not want to look like a coward.

The boys were at the end of the woods and remained together for several minutes. Then each walked off along his post The wind was now coming up again, and presently a sudden gust took Ritter’s cigarette from his fingers. It struck a nearby bush and the burning tobacco was carried through the air a distance of a hundred feet or more.

“Hello, what’s that?” cried the cadet named Mason, as he came to a halt at the end of Post 4.

“What’s what?” grumbled Ritter.

“Thought I saw some fire flying through the air. Well, I declare! Look!”

Mason stared in wonder in the direction of where the wood had been heaped up for the bonfire. The burning tobacco had been carried by the wind to this heap and had landed on the box of carbide. A few drops of rain were coming down, and the carbide was commencing to blaze up like a gasolene torch.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” cried Ritter and running forward he kicked at the brushwood in semi-darkness. Over went the can of carbide into a pool of water. At once came a flash of fire from the gas thus generated, and the brushwood commenced to blaze away at a lively rate.

It was now raining lightly and the wind was blowing stronger and stronger. Ritter tried to put out the fire, but it roared louder and louder, as more gas from the carbide was generated, and he grew afraid and drew back.

“Fred Century had that carbide,” said Mason. “I saw him with it.”

“Sure he had it,” added Ritter quickly. “It’s his fault that the brushwood took fire.”

“But he didn’t set it on fire, Reff.”

“How do you know?”

“He isn’t anywhere around.”

“Humph! He might have put a slow match to it.”

“Do you think he did that? I saw some fire in the air—but I thought it came from this direction.”

“Well, you keep quiet about this,—or we’ll both get into trouble!” answered Ritter. And just then the wind came up with a sudden fury, sending the burning brush rolling directly towards the tents of the encampment!