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                            The Meadow-Brook
                          Girls on the Tennis
                                 Courts


                                   OR
                   Winning Out in the Big Tournament

                                   By
                             JANET ALDRIDGE

    Author of the Meadow-Brook Girls Under Canvas, The Meadow-Brook
              Girls Across Country, The Meadow-Brook Girls
              Afloat, The Meadow-Brook Girls in The Hills,
                   The Meadow-Brook Girls by The Sea,
                               etc., etc.


                    THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
                        Akron, Ohio    New York
                            Made in U. S. A.

                            Copyright MCMXIV
                 _By_ THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY




                                CONTENTS


  Chapter.                                                         Page.
  I. Smoke Rings From the Hills                                        7
  II. The Tramps Guard Their Secret                                   17
  III. Keeping the Girls in Suspense                                  24
  IV. An Unpleasant Surprise                                          33
  V. The Tramp Club Receives a Shock                                  40
  VI. A Discouraging Try-Out                                          48
  VII. The Meadow-Brook Girls Change Their Minds                      60
  VIII. On the Service Line                                           69
  IX. A Cloud with a Silver Lining                                    81
  X. A Joy and a Disappointment                                       88
  XI. A Blow That Nearly Killed George                                99
  XII. A Guest Who Was Welcome                                       114
  XIII. In the Hands of a Master                                     123
  XIV. A Steam Roller to the Rescue                                  137
  XV. Would-Be Cup Winners Break Camp                                147
  XVI. In Camp on the Battle Field                                   156
  XVII. The Cup That Lured                                           170
  XVIII. What the Spy Learned                                        179
  XIX. On the Tournament Courts                                      190
  XX. A Welcome Disturbance                                          199
  XXI. A Disaster in Camp                                            208
  XXII. An Exciting Morning                                          216
  XXIII. A Memorable Battle                                          227
  XXIV. Conclusion                                                   245




              The Meadow-Brook Girls on the Tennis Courts




                               CHAPTER I
                       SMOKE RINGS FROM THE HILLS


“I want thome exthitement,” complained Grace Thompson petulantly.

“Have patience, Tommy,” answered Jane McCarthy. “Did you ever know the
Meadow-Brook Girls to go long without it?”

“I don’t know that we can look for anything exciting up here on this side
hill, surrounded by stumps, burned trees and blackened logs,” returned
Margery Brown. “I shall just perish from doing nothing. We have been up
here nearly two days and nothing has happened. I should rather be down in
the meadows than up here in this dismal place.”

Miss Elting, the guardian of the party of girls encamped on the hillside,
smiled tolerantly.

“Wait,” she advised.

“I’ll tell you what,” suggested the towheaded Tommy. “Buthter, you are
fat and round. We’ll thcrape off a thmooth plathe all the way down the
thide of the hill, then you roll down to the bottom. That will give you
exthitement and make uth laugh, too.”

“But there is a jumping-off place at the bottom,” objected Margery. “I
should fall down on the stones.”

“Yeth, I know. But that would be exthitement and make uth laugh. Why
thhould you be fat, if it ithn’t to make other folkth laugh?”

Margery elevated her nose disdainfully.

“Do it yourself,” she answered.

“Yes, Tommy. You wish excitement. Suppose you run down and jump into the
creek at the bottom of the hill,” called Harriet Burrell, raising a
flushed face from the fire over which she was cooking their supper. “Run
down and jump in. If the water is deep, you might pretend you are
drowning; then Margery will rush to your rescue and save you. Drowning is
exciting enough. I know, for I was nearly drowned once.”

“I fear a little trout stream at the foot of a hill would not prove very
exciting to a girl who has been lost at sea for hours on a dark night,”
observed the guardian. “You will have to think of something else,
Harriet. Are you, too, suffering from inactivity?”

“Not at all. Miss Elting,” answered Harriet brightly. “I came out here
with you for the sake of the outing, for the fresh air and the birds and
the odors of——”

“Burned stumps,” finished Margery. “The whole place smells like a country
smoke-house, where the farmer smokes his hams for the winter. Ugh!”

“As far as I am concerned,” resumed Harriet Burrell, “I am not looking
for excitement. I am enjoying myself thoroughly. What is more, were I
looking for the unusual, I do not think it would be necessary to look far
for it.”

Tommy regarded her companion with narrowed eyes and wrinkled forehead.

“Do you know thomething that we don’t know, Harriet?”

“Perhaps I do and perhaps not,” was the evasive reply. “Why don’t you use
your eyes and your ears and your nose, you and Margery?”

“My nose?” sniffed Buster. “That’s the trouble. This horrible, smoky,
burned smell makes me ill. When I shut my eyes I think the side of the
hill is on fire right this minute, instead of a year or so ago, or
whenever it was.”

She gazed first down the slope to the valley below, where a slender
stream was to be seen threading its way through the blackened landscape,
then up the hill to where the trees had begun to grow again after the
forest fire had seared their leaves and blackened their young trunks. The
trees were making a noble fight for life, the green at their tops showing
that some success had attended their unequal fight. Here and there
blackened slabs of granite protruded from the uninviting landscape
between the camp of the young women and the denser forest beyond, which
the fire had failed to reach. Still farther on the campers saw the road
that led back to their homes at Meadow-Brook.

The small tent, that had been packed in sections, had already taken on
something of the dispiriting color of the landscape in which it had been
set. Within the tent the girls had leveled off the ground as well as
possible and dug deep trenches on the uphill side, so that they might not
be drowned out in case of a heavy rainstorm. They had chosen this
uninviting spot principally because it was different from any place in
which they had made camp during their summer vacations of the past two
years. They could easily shift to another location were they to tire of
this one. One advantage of the present site lay in the fact that it was
removed from human habitation by some miles. Their own homes lay about
twelve miles to the eastward.

Hazel Holland, the fifth girl of the Meadow-Brook Girls’ party, also saw
that Harriet had something in mind. She walked over near the fire and sat
down, regarding Harriet inquiringly.

“What do you mean, Harriet?” she questioned.

“I haven’t said. Use your eyes. I am too busy getting supper now to make
any explanations. Haven’t you girls seen anything unusual?”

“Yes, I have,” answered Margery. “Everything is unusual around here—too
much so to suit my cultivated tastes.”

“There ith thome mythtery here,” observed Tommy Thompson wisely.

Miss Elting asked no questions. She knew that Harriet would speak of what
was in her mind when she was ready to do so. The supper was soon cooked,
the dishes set on a blanket, which had been spread on a fairly level
place. Other blankets had been laid down on which the girls took their
places with their feet curled underneath them. The dishes were mostly tin
and paper, but the supper, smoking and steaming on the blanket, was
savory and appetizing. The girls forgot their dismal surroundings in the
pleasure of eating what Harriet Burrell had prepared for them, though
Margery did her best to look sour, in order to hide her satisfaction,
while Tommy now and then regarded her with a smile.

“I don’t believe Buthter intendth to thtop eating to-night,” was the
little lisping girl’s comment.

“You stop making remarks about me,” exploded Buster. “Didn’t I tell you I
should go right back home if you did it again this summer?”

“Buthter never liketh to hear the truth about herthelf,” averred Tommy
with an impish grin.

“The truth!” exclaimed the now angry Margery. “I’ll never speak to you
again, Grace Thompson.”

“If you girls only knew how silly you are, you would reform,” said
Harriet.

“The only way for a fat perthon to reform ith to run all day in the hot
thun,” answered Tommy. “Why don’t you try it, Buthter?”

Margery glared speechlessly at her tormentor, but before she could frame
a fitting reply Hazel suddenly asked Harriet a question that quickly
changed the current of thought in the minds of the two disputants.

“Perhaps you will tell us what you meant when you made that remark a
short time ago, Harriet,” she said.

“What remark, Hazel?”

“About not having to look far for excitement, about using our eyes, ears
and noses,” replied Hazel. “What did you mean?”

“Just what I said,” repeated Harriet.

“Be good enough to explain, pleathe?” urged Tommy. “I’m not clever at
guething riddleth.”

“Had you girls used your ears, you would have heard something; had you
used your eyes, you would have seen smoke; had you used your noses, you
would have smelled smoke. Now do you understand?”

“Yeth, I underthtand,” replied Tommy after a brief interval of silence.

“What do you understand?” demanded Margery.

“That Harriet ith lothing her mind. Maybe thhe’ll find it under the
blanketth.”

“More likely to find a snake under there,” suggested Hazel, whereat there
were screams from Tommy and Buster, who sprang to their feet, gazing at
the ground with a frightened expression in their eyes. “Sit down if you
wish any more supper,” urged Hazel, laughing.

“That wathn’t funny in the leatht, Hathel,” declared Grace severely. “Now
tell uth truthfully, Harriet, what you meant by hearing and theeing and
thmelling thingth?”

“Here, I will draw you a map.” Harriet traced a square in the ashes with
a stick, making a round dot in the lower left-hand corner. “This dot is
the camp of the Meadow-Brook Girls,” she said. “At the extreme upper side
are the woods that you see over the brow of the hill, and these,” making
a series of rings, “are smoke—smoke rings. Well, why doesn’t some one say
something?” she chuckled.

“Smoke rings?” questioned the guardian.

“Yes, Miss Elting.”

“Where?”

Harriet Burrell waved one hand toward the brow of the hill, giving the
guardian a meaning look.

“What do you mean?”

“That we have neighbors,” replied Harriet calmly.

“Neighbors!” screamed Margery.

“Where? who? what?” asked the girls in chorus.

“Thave me! I thhould die of fright if I were to thee a thtrange human
being again,” cried Tommy. “Do—do you think it ith a man, a real live
man?”

Harriet Burrell nodded. Tommy’s eyes grew larger.

“I think it is. Perhaps more than one. Listen. I heard some one shout
shortly before I began getting the supper. Then as I was getting the fire
going I saw smoke rings rising from the forest up yonder. They were well
done and they were signals.”

“Indianth!” breathed Grace. “Grathiouth! We’ll all be thcalped. Oh, thave
uth!”

“I answered them by making some smoke signals. There wasn’t enough smoke
in my fire, though, to do it very well.”

“So that is what you were up to?” laughed Jane McCarthy. “I thought you
were fanning the fire with the blanket.”

“I made the answering sign, which they answered in turn; then there were
no more smoke signals from either side. That is all I know about it.”

“Smoke signals,” reflected the guardian. “I know of no one in these parts
who would know how to make them. Do you?”

“Well, no; no one whom we have reason to look for here at this time. But
I have my suspicions. If I am right, we shall know about it either
to-night or early to-morrow morning.”

“Oh! tell us,” begged Margery eagerly. “Please do tell us what you
think.”

“Pleathe don’t,” commanded Tommy sharply. “If I know, then I won’t be
curiouth any more. If I don’t know, I’ll lie awake all night thinking and
guething about it, and oh, I tell you I’ll enjoy it! I do love a
mythtery, and thith ith a mythtery, ithn’t it, Harriet?”

“We will call it that. No, not a word, girls; not another word to-night.
I don’t want to spoil Tommy’s pleasant prospects. Think what a lot of
comfort she will get out of worrying for fear that sometime during the
night a party of Indians may swoop down on us, cut off the top of Tommy’s
head and run away with her flaxen locks.”

“Can you beat it?” glowed Jane McCarthy. “I almost have the shivers
myself.”

“If you girls persist in working up a fright, I see a nice case of
nightmare for some of you before morning,” warned Miss Elting. “I am
inclined to the belief that what you saw must be a camp of timber
cruisers or lumbermen. There are no Indians up here, nor would any tramps
come to this desolate place. Please don’t be foolish. Go on with your
supper and put aside this nonsense.”

“I don’t want to put it athide!” exclaimed Tommy. “I jutht want to be
thcared till I’m all fluthtered up; then I want to be thcared thome
more.” Tommy leaped from the blanket and dived head first into their
little tent.

At that moment a chorus of wild war-whoops rose from the bushes all about
them. Yell upon yell sounded, and a great threshing about in the bushes
sent the hearts of the Meadow-Brook Girls to their throats—so it seemed
to them. Margery Brown, frightened nearly out of her wits, sprang up and
started to run down the hill diagonally from the camp. She caught her
foot on the stub of a burned-off sapling, plunged headforemost and went
rolling down a sharp incline, her cries of alarm heard but faintly by her
companions.




                               CHAPTER II
                     THE TRAMPS GUARD THEIR SECRET


Tommy and Margery were the only girls to ran away. Harriet, Jane, Hazel
and Miss Elting stood their ground. Hazel for a few seconds was on the
point of running when she saw that Harriet seemed to understand the
meaning of the sudden uproar, which was still going on.

There came a lull in the whooping and the shouting. Harriet spoke then.

“Now that we are properly scared, you may come out, boys,” she said.

“Boys? My stars!” muttered Jane. “What boys are you looking for,
darlin’?”

“Come out! We know you,” commanded Harriet.

Captain George Baker of the Tramp Club stepped out into the light of the
campfire, a little shamefaced and uncertain as to how his attempt to
frighten the Meadow-Brook Girls might be received.

“Mr. Baker!” exclaimed the guardian.

“Yes, ma’am,” answered George, twisting his hat nervously in his hands.
“I—I hope we didn’t frighten you too much. I—we—I thought you knew we
were here.”

“We certainly did not. We did know that some one was up yonder in the
woods, because Harriet saw and answered signals. Was it you who made the
smoke signals?”

“I and the Pickle,” he answered, referring to his friend, Dill Dodd. “How
do you do, Miss Brown? Why, what has happened? Been hit by a cyclone?”
Certainly Margery looked much the worse for her tumble. Her skirt was
torn, and her face and hands were scratched, but her chin was not too
much injured for her to be able to elevate it.

“I haven’t met a cyclone, nor is anything the matter with me, Mr. Baker,”
replied Margery, rather haughtily. “When did you come in? Until just now
I didn’t know that you were here.”

George smiled sheepishly.

“But where are the boys, George?” asked Harriet.

“Out yonder in the bushes,” he replied, conscious that his face was
redder than usual.

“That is too bad. I should have thought of them before this. Boys, come
into camp!” called Harriet. “We wish to see you.”

“It’s all right, fellows. Hike along!” commanded Captain George.

So one at a time the boys of the Tramp Club filed into the camp of the
Meadow-Brook Girls. They tried to look solemn-faced, yet their eyes were
full of merriment. Dill Dodd led the way; then came Fred Avery, Sam
Crocker, Charlie Mabie, Will Burgess and Davy Dockrill. The boys were
about the same age as the Meadow-Brook Girls, though taller and of
stronger build.

As the reader of this series knows, this was not the first meeting of the
two clubs. Harriet and her friends were introduced in the first volume of
this series, “The Meadow-Brook Girls Under Canvas,” which told of their
enjoyable adventures in the Pocono Woods. In that volume the reader
became acquainted with the grit, zeal and purpose of Harriet Burrell and
her chums, and with the fine influence that Miss Elting, their
teacher-guardian, exercised over them.

In the second volume, “The Meadow-Brook Girls across Country,” the five
girls and their guardian were shown on their long “hike” homeward, as
they had elected to go on foot rather than resort to comfortable travel
by train. Though at this time the Meadow-Brook Girls met with some
unexpected hardships, the pleasant experiences through which they passed
repaid them for their many troubles. In this volume, too, as our readers
will recall, the girls first made the acquaintance of the boys of the
Tramp Club, who were destined to prove valued friends in many a
difficulty. But the pranks of these mischievous lads forced the girls to
retaliate in kind, and not only did they pay their score, but proved
themselves the boys’ equals in achievement and endurance on the homeward
hike.

In “The Meadow-Brook Girls Afloat,” as the third volume of the series is
entitled, the little company of girls encountered stirring adventures as
well as mirth-provoking incidents during their vacation spent under
decidedly trying circumstances on an old houseboat. With the help of the
Tramp Club a mysterious enemy, who had caused the Meadow-Brook Girls no
little annoyance, was captured, but not until he had succeeded in setting
fire to and burning their vacation home.

After the destruction of the “Red Rover,” their boat, they started at
once for the White Mountains on a long, muscle-trying experiment in
mountain-climbing. All that befell them of adventure, mystery and
rollicking good times is set forth in “The Meadow-Brook Girls in the
Hills.”

Not one of our readers has yet forgotten the great enjoyment furnished by
the fifth volume, “The Meadow-Brook Girls by the Sea.” Here Harriet and
her friends were found setting forth on an expedition without knowing
whither it led, that secret being in the possession only of Miss Elting,
their high school teacher, who accompanied them on all their jaunts.
However, the trip proved the most exciting that they had yet had either
ashore or afloat.

And now we return to the Meadow-Brook Girls in camp, to find them at the
outset of still another vacation hike. So far, however, this experience
had proved anything but exciting. So much adventure on previous trips
made the present life in the woods seem dull by comparison. So even the
coming of the boys was welcomed as a real event by the Meadow-Brook
Girls.

As the boys came one by one into camp they were greeted with smiling
faces and cordial handshakes. There could be no doubting the pleasure of
the girls. Harriet had promptly suspected the presence of the boys when
she observed the smoke signals earlier in the evening. She knew of no
others who would understand this ancient method of signaling.

“I should like to know how you found us?” said the guardian.

“We found out at Meadow-Brook where you were. The girls’ folks told us,”
replied George. “We’ve a great surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” asked the girls in chorus.

“Yes”—George looked wisely at his companions—“the greatest ever. Don’t
try to guess it, for you can’t.”

“Wath that why you thaw our folkth?” demanded Tommy shrewdly.

Captain George flushed to the roots of his hair. Tommy had come nearer
the mark than she perhaps thought. Even Margery showed her curiosity.

“We are ready to hear about this great surprise,” said Miss Elting
smilingly.

“All right, I’ll tell you about it, and——”

“Funny place to pitch a camp, this,” observed Sam Crocker, interrupting
what Captain George was saying.

“Yes, I was thinking about that,” declared George. “Whatever induced you
to come up to this hole?”

“Thith ithn’t a hole, it ith a thide hill,” corrected Tommy.

“You didn’t finish telling us about the surprise, George,” reminded Jane.

“That is so, I didn’t, did I? Oh, you will be surprised and delighted,”
chuckled George. “It’s a dead secret, but I’ll tell you about it. As I
was about to say, this is no sort of place for girls to camp. Now _we_
have picked out a much better place.”

“Where?” asked the guardian.

“Up yonder in the woods, or thereabouts. You must move up there.”

“We are very well satisfied where we are,” replied Harriet Burrell,
smiling mischievously. “Of course, if you can give us any really good
reason why we should move our camp, we will carefully consider your
suggestion.”

“We have a nice place picked out for you. That’s why we want you to
move,” declared George bluntly.

“Thay, are you trying to play trickth on uth?” demanded Tommy.

“Not at all. Hope to die, we’re not. You’ll see that we are not when you
get to the camp we have chosen for you. Now, we’ll be down here early in
the morning and move you right up to it. You won’t have to lift a hand
toward making the new camp. But we must be going. It is getting late.
You’ll surely be ready, won’t you? We shall be on hand early,” announced
the captain, rising. “Come along, fellows, we have stayed too long
already. The girls will begin telling us to go home if we don’t move.”

“Wait! You haven’t told us about the great secret,” cried Margery, unable
to restrain her curiosity any longer. “Tell us now.”

“We’ll tell you all about it in the morning,” called back the captain.

“I want to know now about the great thecret,” shouted Tommy.

The boys scrambled up the side of the hill, shouting their good-byes as
they hurried on toward their own camp, leaving the curiosity of the
Meadow-Brook Girls unsatisfied.




                              CHAPTER III
                     KEEPING THE GIRLS IN SUSPENSE


“Aren’t they provoking?” pouted Margery.

“They are queer boys,” observed Jane, with a shake of her head.

Harriet laughed gleefully.

“It is my opinion that the Tramp Club is preparing to play a joke on the
Meadow-Brook Girls,” she declared. “However, I think we are well able to
take care of ourselves. Miss Elting, what about this proposal to move the
camp?”

“That is for you girls to decide. I see no objection to it. The boys no
doubt wish to have us nearer to their own camp.”

“Why don’t they move down here, then?” questioned Jane.

“I hadn’t thought of that. What do you think?”

“I will think it over,” answered Harriet. “The morning will give us time
to decide. We’ll sleep over it rather than decide hastily. I should like
to know what that surprise is that they have planned for us; that is the
kernel in the nut.”

“They just want to tease us,” complained Margery. “I don’t believe they
have any surprise at all.”

“I think you are wrong, Margery,” replied Miss Elting. “Those boys surely
have something that is to be a great surprise to us. If we don’t do as
they wish, they may not tell us.”

“They will tell us,” nodded Harriet reflectively. “What do you girls say
about moving camp?”

“We will leave that to you,” answered Hazel.

“Then let us turn in and decide the question to-morrow morning. I always
like to sleep over anything of this sort.”

“I don’t. I like to know right away,” declared Margery.

They prepared for bed, having first banked the fire and consulted the
skies for weather indications. The girls did not lie awake long thinking
of the surprise that the Tramp Club had in store for them. They were far
too sleepy to be particularly curious concerning it.

Breakfast, next morning, was finished by seven o’clock. The birds were
darting through the air, or pouring forth their songs from bush or tree.
The sun was shining brightly, and the skies were blue and smiling.

The girls had not finished washing the dishes when a shout from the top
of the hill caused them to look up. Down the incline came the Tramp Club
boys, jumping from rock to rock, raising a cloud of dust as they plunged
recklessly down the side of the hill toward the camp.

“We have come to move you,” called Captain George, when still some
distance from the camp. “Hurry out of the way before we run into you and
your camp.”

“Not quite so fast! We haven’t decided to move,” answered Harriet
laughingly as the boys came tearing down to them, flushed and breathless.

“We decided that yesterday. You haven’t anything to say about it. Here,
Pickle, you drop that tent. Up with it!”

Tent pegs were drawn and down came the tent about Margery’s ears, she
having been at work setting the tent to rights. Margery uttered a wail.
Davy Dockrill ran to assist her.

“Don’t get in the way of the men,” advised Billy Burgess. “They have a
big morning’s work ahead of them, and any one who gets in their way is
likely to be run over and perhaps hurt.”

“I gueth they better not run over me,” warned Tommy. “I’d jutht like to
thee them try to run over Tommy Thompthon.”

The camp already looked very much as though a tornado had passed over it.
The belongings of the Meadow-Brook Girls lay strewn about the camp, the
tent was flat on the ground, the fire had been kicked aside and the
cooking utensils dragged out to cool off preparatory to packing them.
Miss Elting gazed at the bold lads smilingly. Harriet had sat down and
was laughing heartily. Margery was too angry to speak for a time, after
having been assisted from the collapsed tent by Davy Dockrill.

“Would it be proper to ask where we are going?” questioned Harriet, after
she had succeeded in controlling her merriment.

“You are going to a new camp, Miss Burrell, and you’re going to get the
surprise of your young life,” answered Captain George.

“I am beginning to think that surprise is a joke, Captain.”

“You’ll find it isn’t. Oh, you girls will be beside yourselves with joy
and sheer delight when you hear about it,” chuckled Sam.

“Provided we are not old ladies by that time and unable to walk without
crutches on account of our rheumatic joints,” retorted Harriet
mischievously.

“I think you should tell us before we shift our camp,” suggested Miss
Elting almost severely.

“You are not moving your camp, we’re moving it for you, begging your
pardon for contradicting you,” answered George, touching his hat to the
guardian. “I’ll tell you before we go.”

In the meantime, that camp was disappearing with greater speed than had
ever before marked the striking of a Meadow-Brook Girls’ camp. Thus far
the girls had had no part in the striking. They had made several
individual efforts, only to be thrust aside by the determined boys. Now
and then George would appeal to Miss Elting as to where this or that
article was to be packed. The girls were never asked. It was as though
they were merely guests.

All was in readiness within half an hour after the boys had swooped down
upon the camp. Captain George distributed the packs among his fellows.
These were not very heavy loads, for the girls had taken light packs,
knowing they would have to climb more or less, provided they followed the
hills.

“Now we are ready to move,” announced the captain, himself shouldering
the largest of the packs and nodding to the boys.

“But, my dear Captain, we have not yet decided to move camp,” answered
Miss Elting, smiling good-naturedly.

“Decided? Of course not. It wasn’t for you to decide. We decided that
yesterday. You don’t have to come along if you don’t want to, but your
equipment is already on the way.”

“I won’t go a step,” declared Margery.

“You may, of course, stay here if you wish,” answered the captain
politely. “May I assist you up the hill, Miss Elting?” he questioned.

“Oh, no, thank you, Captain, I am quite well able to climb this hill.
Come, girls. I suppose we might as well give in. It is either that or
lose our equipment. These young men are very determined.”

“Aren’t you going to tell uth what the great thurprithe ith?” demanded
Tommy.

George uttered a long-drawn whistle.

“Say, girls, I forgot all about that. Honestly I did.”

“Then tell us now,” suggested the guardian.

“I’ll tell you when we get to the camp.” George began climbing the hill,
followed slowly by the girls and their guardian.

“Isn’t he provoking?” grumbled Margery petulantly.

The boys led the way over the brow of the hill to the more level ground
and on into the forest that crowned the top of the hill. Reaching a
cleared spot from which the timber had been cut, the girls found the
advance guard of Tramps at work pitching the tent. There was a heavy
growth of bushes, but the stumps had been fairly well burned off. The
clearing, surrounded by great trees, was about an acre in extent and a
really attractive camp site.

“Here we are,” announced George jovially, throwing down his pack. “You
girls just make yourselves at home while we put the place to rights. How
do you like it?”

“I like it,” answered Harriet frankly. “You have done considerable work
here, I see—cut all the bushes and leveled off the ground for the camp.
It is very kind in you, Captain. Where is your camp?”

“A quarter of a mile to the north,” he replied with a wave of his hand.
“You will find a fine spring just the other side of those rocks yonder.
There is an old log road leading in from the highway. It is a much more
convenient place in every way than the one where you were camped, and yet
not a soul comes here. We were here for a time last fall. Have you plenty
of provisions?”

“For the present,” answered Harriet, nodding. “We shall have to go to
town within the week, however.”

“No need to do that. There is a farmhouse a mile from here where we can
get everything we need. We go there for milk every morning. We can just
as well bring your milk at the same time and anything else you may need.”

“You are very kind,” said the guardian. “But now that we are here,
suppose you tell us about that very great surprise.”

George pointed out a pile of wood that they had gathered, showed Harriet
where the spring lay hidden behind the big rock and pointed out other
advantages of the camp they had chosen for their friends, the
Meadow-Brook Girls, all of which pleased the girls very much, though
Margery and Tommy would not have shown their satisfaction for the world.

The camp was pitched in record time that morning, but the boys kept
working about, even going so far as to make an oven of flat stones.
George then drew from a bag a dozen squirrels that they had shot that
morning. These he proceeded to skin and dress, after which he spitted
them on sharp sticks ready for broiling over the fire when luncheon time
should have arrived.

The hour for getting the noon meal was at hand almost before the young
people realized it. Time had passed very rapidly that morning. The boys
got the luncheon that day. By this time the Meadow-Brook Girls had begun
to enter into the spirit of the fun. They were chatting and laughing
gayly, teasing the Tramp Boys and criticising their methods of
house-keeping. Luncheon was the jolliest meal they had enjoyed that
season—so the girls unreservedly declared. After having finished and
before getting up from their blankets, Captain George coughed
significantly.

“Now, I suppose, you would like to hear about it,” he said teasingly.

Harriet shrugged her shoulders.

“Having waited this long, I don’t think it would give us much pain to
wait longer,” she replied.

“No, no! Tell us,” cried Buster.

“I thought you weren’t curious?” taunted Davy.

“Don’t keep us in suspense, Captain. Tell us now. You don’t have to be
coaxed to tell, do you?” asked Miss Elting.

“No, we are really anxious to tell you the whole story, and I know you’ll
all shout with delight when you hear it,” answered Captain George.




                               CHAPTER IV
                         AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE


The captain of the Tramp Club leaned back and, clasping his hands about
his knees, gazed reflectively at the blue sky overhead. The eyes of the
Meadow-Brook Girls were fixed inquiringly on his brown face. Captain
George appeared to be in no hurry to tell them of the surprise that the
Tramps had in store for the girls. Tommy was the first to break the
silence.

“Thith thuthpenthe ith killing,” she observed.

“Oh, don’t hurry him,” scoffed Crazy Jane. “He won’t be half so
interesting after he has told it; and, what’s more, he knows it. That’s
why he’s so long about telling. Suppose you wait until after supper,
George? The evening is so much better for telling fairy stories. Then we
can all go to bed and have nightmares!”

“This isn’t a joke,” protested Sam Crocker a trifle impatiently. “This is
dead serious business, as you will realize before you have done with it.”

“Indeed?” commented Buster sarcastically.

“Yes, indeed,” returned Sam sharply. “Better tell them and have it out of
your system. I’m getting a little tired of their not believing us. They
will believe all right after they hear the glad and joyous tidings.”

“We believe motht anything,” Tommy informed them solemnly. “And we
believe you folkth don’t know what you are talking about. Do you!”

“If you will give me half a chance, I will tell you,” answered George.
“Did you ever hear of Newtown, on the coast?”

“Oh, yes. That is a fashionable summer resort,” said Harriet.

“Just so. Ever hear of the Atlantic Coast Tennis Tournaments?”

The girls shook their heads.

“I have,” said Miss Elting. “I have understood that they were a feature
of the summer at Newtown.”

“They are,” agreed George. “They are the biggest and most important
affairs ever pulled off along the coast, and don’t you lose sight of that
for a minute.”

“We won’t. What next?” demanded Grace.

“In this tournament,” continued Captain Baker, “there are many classes
and many valuable prizes. No money prizes, of course, for this is purely
an amateur tournament, but it brings out some crack players, you may
depend upon that. The best players there are in New England come down to
Newtown to match their skill against their fellows. People journey many
miles to attend this tournament, which usually lasts several days,
sometimes a week. Most of the contests are bitterly fought. More national
tennis players have graduated from that tournament than from any other in
the United States. I know, because Jack Herrington, the manager of the
tournament, told me so.

“It is a great honor even to be entered at Newtown,” declared George.
“Believe me, not every one can get an entry there. Oh, it’s very select
and one has to be well up in the lists to get an entry, but once having
entered there is no backing out. The entries are closed now.”

“When is this tournament to take place?” questioned Miss Elting,
interested, though she could not satisfactorily explain to herself why.

“Five weeks from now.”

“Are you boys going?”

“Are we going?” fairly shouted George. “You couldn’t keep us away with a
team of elephants. I rather guess we are going, and we shall stay till
the last ball is batted over the net and the prizes awarded.”

“Then you are going to play?”

He shook his head.

“Wish we might, but there are no classes for boys. Herrington promises to
have a class for us next season. You will see the Tramp Club on hand with
the racquets then and you’ll all come to see us cover the name of the
Tramp Club with glory.”

“You have done that already,” said Harriet.

“Thank you.” The boys took off their hats and bowed gravely.

“But,” continued George, “I feel that I have scored a greater triumph
this year than I ever shall by playing.”

“How so?” asked the guardian politely.

“Because I’ve entered a winning team, entered a team that all the
amateurs along the coast couldn’t beat. Why? Because the team, my team, I
call them, wouldn’t know it if they were beaten. They’d keep right on
playing till the Atlantic itself froze over, if somebody didn’t cut in
and stop them. That’s why. You watch our entry and see if they don’t set
the State of New Hampshire howling like a parcel of mad Indians. Ever see
a mad Indian?”

“I have seen what I thought was one,” answered Jane significantly.

“You haven’t seen the real thing nor——”

“We are still waiting for the great mystery to be solved,” reminded Miss
Elting.

“I’m solving it as rapidly as possible. Nor will you see the genuine
article till after the tournament at Newtown is finished.”

“We’re all agreed on that point,” interjected Charlie Mabie. “There isn’t
another team in the State that can hold its own with our entries.”

“I sincerely hope you young gentlemen may not be disappointed. I should
like to see your team play and——”

“See them play?” exploded Davy. “I should say you would. If you didn’t,
we could never forgive you. Of course you will see them play. The idea of
your having any doubts on the subject!”

“But, my dear boys, why should I be so interested, not knowing any of the
contestants, not even knowing who your team may be?” expostulated the
guardian.

“Not—not—not know?” shouted Dill Dodd. “That’s so, you don’t,” he added
in a lower voice. “I had forgotten that you didn’t know them. But you
will—you will—and when you do you’ll be just as enthusiastic as we are,
maybe more so.”

“That would be impossible,” said Harriet, smiling and nodding.

The boys themselves were becoming excited. They were fairly bursting with
impatience to blurt out the whole story. George Baker was not telling it
nearly fast enough to suit them. Tommy and Margery shared their
impatience. Tommy’s face was working nervously and Margery was making a
desperate effort to be calm. They felt sure that there was more to the
story, more of interest to themselves than they could even guess.

They were not wrong in their surmise. There was more to tell, as they
were speedily to learn.

“Are the prizes worth while?” asked Harriet.

“A silver cup for the winning team. It’s worth more than a hundred
dollars, and will have the name of the winning club engraved on it. Then
there will be individual prizes. There are second and third prizes, too,
but I don’t know what they are. I didn’t ask Herrington, for the reason
that I wasn’t interested. I was interested in the first prize. Our team
will get it, of course.”

Harriet was regarding him with narrowed eyes now, her forehead wrinkled
into lines of perplexity. The way George was looking at her set the girl
to wondering.

“Who is your team, George?” she asked.

“Who is my team? Don’t you know?” he almost shouted.

“Naturally not. You haven’t told us.”

“They aren’t mind readers, George,” reminded Billy Burgess. “I’ll confess
that you’ve almost got me guessing. You’ve so befuddled me that I’m
beginning to wonder if I know who they are myself.”

The boys burst out into a jolly laugh.

“Oh, tell them and be done with it. For goodness’ sake, quit
circumnavigating the globe,” scoffed Davy. “I could walk to town and back
while you are saying ‘No, thank you.’ Speak up.”

“And you haven’t guessed yet?” questioned George.

“We are more in the dark than when you began,” replied Harriet. “Who is
to play on your team?”

“Why, _you_ are, of course. The Meadow-Brook Girls are our team. You are
the players who are going to win the tennis championship for the coast,
and you’re going to put all the others so far back of the lines that they
won’t be able to find themselves for the rest of the summer. Now, what do
you think of that?”

“What?” Harriet sat up very straight, looking George Baker squarely in
the eyes. “Why, Mr. Baker, none of us has ever played a game of tennis in
her life.”




                               CHAPTER V
                    THE TRAMP CLUB RECEIVES A SHOCK


“Quit joking. I mean what I say,” commanded Captain Baker somewhat
testily. “Of course I know you girls play tennis as well as you do
everything else. Knowing this, I hadn’t the least hesitancy in entering
you for the tournament. I told Jack Herrington all about you. He insisted
on my making the entry right there and then. You see, he had heard of the
Meadow-Brook Girls. He knew almost as much about their accomplishments as
I did myself. He said that was just the kind of entries they wished for
the Atlantic Coast Tennis Tournament. I was mighty glad he said that, for
I really wanted you girls to go in and win the cup, so I made the entry
in Miss Harriet’s name per George Baker as representative. There are girl
teams entered from all along the coast and they are cracker-jacks, too,
but they aren’t in the same class with you girls, either in tennis or
anything else. Now, isn’t that great?” Captain George’s face was flushed
and his eyes were sparkling.

“Great?” answered Harriet slowly. “I told you none of us ever had played
a game of tennis in her life, and I meant it. Some of us have knocked the
ball about a little with the racquets, but not one of us ever has played
a game. Why, we know absolutely nothing about tennis.”

“What? You—you mean to say—you mean you are in earnest—you aren’t joking
with me?”

“I was never more serious in my life, George,” replied Harriet gravely.

Captain George Baker looked as he felt—thunderstruck—while his
companions’ faces reflected his consternation. George groaned dismally.

“But we’ve entered you. You must go through with it,” he expostulated.

Harriet shook her head.

“It is out of the question, George. Miss Elting plays, I believe. Let her
take the entry for us.”

“She isn’t eligible,” objected George. “This entry is for girls not more
than eighteen years old. Of course you will play,” he added with a more
hopeful note in his tone. “I know well enough that you play, and play
superbly. No girls who are such clever girls, out-of-doors as well as in,
could help playing tennis. Besides, you will have to do it now. I tell
you I’ve entered you.”

“No, George. I am sorry, but you will have to withdraw our entry,
explaining to Mr. Herrington that we don’t play and that you were led
into the making of the entry by his urging.”

“The papers have printed the entries,” shouted George. “And they’ve told
all about you,” he added in a tone of misery.

“Show them what the papers printed, George,” urged Dill.

Captain George drew a wrinkled piece of newspaper from his blouse pocket
and flattened it out on one knee with the palms of his hands. He regarded
the paper ruefully, then handed it to Dodd.

“You read it, Dill. My voice is going back on me. I must have yelled
myself hoarse this morning. It’s all about you, girls. You will see that
you’ve got to go through with this business, no matter what happens.”

“Ahem!” exclaimed Dodd. “Are you ready for the question? The question is
to play or not to play. This is an item in the ‘Newtown Register’ and, as
you will observe, was written with a complete knowledge of all the
facts.”

“Read it. Don’t waste so much time talking,” cried Sam.

“The item is as follows,” said Dill. “That is, I shall read only that
part relating to you girls and your entry. What it says about the other
entries, of course, will be of no interest to you just now. Later on it
may. I quote from the ‘Register’: ‘Not the least interesting among the
entries for the Atlantic Coast Tennis Tournament is that of the
Meadow-Brook Girls of Meadow-Brook, New Hampshire. This is not, strictly
speaking, a tennis club. The young women who form this organization have
become known to the public by reason of numerous vacation tours which
they have made on foot and by automobile throughout the State. Their
thorough athletic training, coupled with their proficiency in outdoor
sports, will make them formidable contestants. We shall welcome them to
the Coast Tournament and hope to have them with us as long as they remain
eligible for the classes offered here.’ Then follows the family history
of each of you girls,” added Dill mischievously.

“My grathiouth, you don’t thay tho!” exclaimed Tommy. “Won’t my father be
ath mad ath a hatter! He thayth young girlth thhould be theen but not
heard.”

“Here’s another from the ‘Gazette,’” announced George, passing a second
slip to his companion.

“‘Great interest is being manifested in the entry of the well known
organization who call themselves the Meadow-Brook Girls,’” read Dill.
“‘Their coming is awaited with deep interest by the summer visitors as
well as the regular residents of Newtown, who are justly proud of old New
Hampshire’s girls.’”

“I fear you have involved yourself and us in a scrape, Captain George,”
said Miss Elting. “I know something about tennis, and have played a few
games. I know, too, that long practice is necessary even to play an
ordinary game of it. But even in my case, I can’t say that I know enough
about the game to instruct any one else. You must go to Mr. Herrington
and tell him frankly that the entry was made under a misapprehension, and
that it must be withdrawn.”

“What, after all thothe complimentth?” demanded Tommy. “Never! I’ll play
the whole tournament mythelf firtht.”

“No, George,” insisted the guardian, “it isn’t possible. You must cancel
the entry. My girls do not play tennis, and that is all there is about
it. I am, of course, ineligible, much as I should like to keep up the
reputation of the Meadow-Brook Girls. We are very sorry to disappoint
you.”

“George will have to go to Newtown and tell Herrington all about it,”
declared Dill. “We have made fools of ourselves, but through no fault of
the girls. We should have found out whether or not they played the game
before entering them in the tournament.”

“I didn’t think for a minute that it could be possible they didn’t play.
I didn’t suppose there was anything they couldn’t do, and I’m half
inclined to believe they are fooling us now,” declared George. “I——”

His voice trailed off into an unintelligible mumble as he observed the
troubled eyes of Harriet Burrell fixed upon him. “Oh, shoot the whole
business!” he exploded.

Billy Burgess had in the meantime beckoned to Sam. The two boys slunk out
of camp and a few moments later were observed staggering back, bearing
some heavy burden between them. The girls could not imagine what the boys
were bringing into camp. George knew, however. He started up, his face
flushing angrily.

“Take it away!” he yelled. “We don’t want it. What are you fellows trying
to do, make a bigger fool of me than I am already?” he demanded.

“That would be impossible,” laughed Sam.

“For mercy’s sake, what have you there?” cried Miss Elting.

“The makings,” answered Dill. “And it was an unlucky day for us, when we
bought them, wasn’t it, Captain George Baker?”

“You’d better drag that thing out of here,” roared George, now thoroughly
angry. “Am I the captain of this club or not?”

“Don’t take it away, boys. We want to know what it is. Is this bundle a
mystery, another of your great surprises?” demanded Jane McCarthy.

“This is the treat that was to be,” Dill informed them. “Of course, it
isn’t a treat now, it’s just a sad reminder of what might have been, but
we thought you might like to have a look. You’ll see what you have missed
and we shall shed tears, George shedding crocodile tears. If you wish to
know how a crocodile weeps, just observe the eyes of our noble captain.
George, prepare to weep.”

“Oh, keep quiet!” growled George Baker. “I’ll trounce you if you keep on.
Are you going to take that thing away?”

“Not until our very good friends, the Meadow-Brook Girls, have had an
opportunity to see it and learn what a chance to distinguish themselves
they have missed.”

“You have aroused our curiosity,” said the guardian laughingly. “You
simply must let us into this new secret. Such boys! I never saw your
like! I’ll confess that I am as curious as any of my girls. What have you
there?”

“The makings, I said,” answered Dill Dodd—“the making of world champions
and championesses.”

“I don’t understand,” answered Miss Elting, glancing from one to another
of the boys. The latter were now smiling broadly, all save Captain Baker
himself, whose face was gloomy, his gaze fixed morosely on the ground.

Sam Crocker drew a knife from his pocket, opened it and felt the edge of
the blade with aggravating deliberateness, then suddenly cut the heavy
twine that held the bundle together.

The bundle sprang open. The two lads grabbed the contents and quickly
spread them out over the ground in front of the girls’ tent. The
Meadow-Brooks were silent for a few seconds; then broke out into
exclamations of delight.

“Just look!” cried Margery shrilly.

“Oh, you boys, you boys!” exclaimed the guardian, her eyes glowing with
an excitement and pleasure that she made no effort to conceal. “How
really unkind we have been to you.”




                               CHAPTER VI
                         A DISCOURAGING TRY-OUT


“And you have done all this for us?” asked Miss Elting, stepping over and
placing a hand on the shoulder of the disconsolate George, who, sitting
with his chin in his palms, never so much as glanced up at her.

“No; just for the sake of showing you what fools fellows can make of
themselves,” he answered sourly.

“Oh, don’t say that, Captain,” begged Harriet, running to him. “We shall
never forget your goodness—never! It was splendid in you!”

“A real tennis net!” cried Margery. “What a lot of fun we shall have with
it.”

“It is a splendid outfit, too,” declared Miss Elting, examining the
contents of the bundle with critical eyes; “everything complete, even to
racquets, and the best to be had in the market, too. Oh, how can we thank
you? But isn’t this outfit new?” she asked, a sudden thought occurring to
her.

Sam nodded and smiled.

“To whom does it belong?” she continued.

He waved his hand as indicating that it was the property of the Tramp
Club. In the meantime George’s face was taking on a deeper flush, the
heel of one boot was digging more and more savagely into the turf, and
his hair, through which he had run his fingers, was standing up wildly.

“The property of the Tramp Club?” repeated the guardian.

Sam nodded, but George did not.

“When did you get it?” questioned Miss Elting.

“It came the day before yesterday,” Dill informed her. “We’ve been
looking for it for more than a week—we could hardly wait till it got
here. When it came, we hustled right over to Meadow-Brook, where we
learned that you were out here.”

“But—but you didn’t carry it all the way from Meadow-Brook here, did
you?” demanded Jane.

“No, we didn’t tote it,” answered Sam. “We got a farmer who was on his
way out here to carry it in his wagon. We carried it up from the road,
about a mile. That was far enough. We are very sorry we had all our
trouble for nothing.”

“We’re _not_ sorry!” roared George. “We aren’t sorry for anything we do
for the Meadow-Brook Girls. The fellow who says that isn’t a Tramp by a
long shot.”

“I—I didn’t mean it just that way,” apologized Sam. “You know what I
meant.”

Harriet, who had been watching the faces of the boys and listening to
what was said, had already come to a certain conclusion regarding the
thoughtfulness of the boys. She put that conclusion into words a few
moments later.

“You mean that you boys bought this outfit, net, balls, racquets and all?
Is that it?”

“We certainly did,” cried Sam.

“Will you keep quiet?” demanded George angrily. “You ramble on and tell
everything you know almost before you are asked. We got that outfit,
ladies, because we wanted it and for no other reason. We thought, seeing
you were going to play in the tournament at Newtown, that you might like
to practise while you were out here. That’s all there is to it. Don’t pay
any attention to what Sam says; he isn’t always responsible.”

Harriet was not deceived. Neither was Miss Elting. It was plain to both
that George Baker and his fellows had purchased this tennis outfit solely
in the interest of the Meadow-Brook Girls. The guardian, knowing
something of these matters, realized that the boys must have purchased
the outfit at a great personal sacrifice, thus increasing her wonder and
admiration for the unselfish Tramp Club. As a matter of fact, the boys
had sacrificed their pocket money in order to get the outfit, fully
expecting the girls to be overcome with joy. Instead of this the girls
had met them with the amazing news that they had never played a game of
tennis in their lives!

“You bought it for us,” reflected Harriet, with her chin in her hand,
regarding the disconsolate George with thoughtful eyes.

“Suppose we purchase the outfit?” suggested Miss Elting.

Captain George sprang up, his face reflecting his indignation.

“Do you think we are that kind of fellows?” he demanded. “I beg your
pardon. I didn’t mean to speak to you in that tone, Miss Elting,” he
apologized.

“You need not apologize. We accept your kind thoughtfulness and
appreciate the spirit behind it. But it is too bad that you have had to
be so disappointed. Let me think it over and see what can be done.”

“Nothing can be done,” groaned George. “We’re in up to our chins and
we’re going in up to our eyes before we’ve done with it.”

Tommy and Margery had taken up racquets and balls and were batting the
balls about, shouting delightedly. They already had volleyed one ball off
into the bushes and lost it. Billy Burgess was down on his knees crawling
about in the bushes in search of it. Already a hopeful spirit was
apparent in the faces of nearly all the boys and most of the girls.
Harriet was thoughtful, while Miss Elting smiled her appreciation upon
the boys, of whom she was almost as fond as of her own young charges.

“I would suggest that we put up the net. Even if we aren’t able to play,
we shall be able to have a lot of enjoyment out of the tennis outfit,”
said Harriet. “Do you object to our using it while we are here, boys?”

“Object?” George Baker was on his feet instantly, the set lines of his
face relaxing somewhat. “Well, I should say not! Do you really mean that
you’ll play over the net?”

“I don’t know about playing,” answered Harriet laughingly. “We will agree
to volley the balls back and forth.”

“You’re fooling me!” shouted George. “You said ‘_volley_.’ No one but a
tennis player would know about that word. Hurrah! Put up the net,
fellows. We’ll see about this.”

“Please do not deceive yourself,” begged Harriet. “We have told you the
simple truth. We do not play. I knew the word and what it means, having
heard Miss Elting use it. But we will put up the net just the same and
have ever and ever so much fun. I’ll tell you what, George. You teach us
how to play. Miss Elting will play with you. She can play.”

“Indifferently,” answered the guardian. “I fear I should cut but a sorry
figure with such experts as the Tramp Club, especially such an expert as
Mr. Baker.”

“Expert! Ho-ho! Ha-ha!” chuckled Sam. “Wait till you see him play! Oh,
yes, he’s the original and unconquerable champion of the Granite State.
Get busy, fellows. Don’t stand about like a lot of wooden Indians waiting
to be placed on your pedestals. There aren’t any pedestals here. If there
were, you wouldn’t occupy them, not while there are ladies present.”

“Where shall we place the net?” asked Hazel.

“Over yonder,” answered George. “You must level off the ground first,
boys.” He was full of new interest now. “Wait. I’ll trim down the bushes,
then some of you get to work and dig them up—dig up the roots, I mean.
It’s not exactly an ideal place for a court.”

The boys fell to with a will, the girls getting to work assisting them in
clearing the ground in preparation for a tennis court. Nearly an hour was
occupied with this work, with the result that a fairly level and smooth
court had been constructed, George having paced off the measurements so
that they were almost accurate. It would not do for the girls to learn on
a court that was either too large or too small, for this would have an
effect on their playing when they came to play on a real court.

While the others were setting the net, George with a stick was busily
engaged in marking out the base line and other lines of the court. All
this was of interest to the Meadow-Brook Girls because they did not
understand the purpose of it. They had no idea what the lines were for
nor why they should be there at all. But Harriet early began asking
questions, and by the time the markings were down she had some inkling as
to their uses.

“Chalk is used to mark the lines ordinarily,” explained George. “Having
no chalk, we fall back on a sharp stick. The lines aren’t very plain, but
plain enough, I guess, for all we shall require of them. I reckon we’ll
have time to volley a few times before night,” he added, consulting the
skies. “I know you girls are going to give us the surprise of our young
lives.”

“We are,” agreed Harriet, balancing a racquet on the first finger of her
right hand.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” demanded the captain sharply.

“Why, I—I didn’t know I was doing anything so remarkable,” stammered
Harriet.

“That’s a trick of expert tennis players to learn whether a racquet is
properly balanced. You needn’t tell me you don’t know anything about the
game. Sam, bring a ball here. You fellows are going to get a surprise in
about a minute and a half. Harriet, you and Hazel take your places. No,
not in the middle of the court—diagonally in those squares. There. Now
play!”

Harriet tossed up the ball and made a swing at it with the racquet. She
did not even hit the ball. Her companions laughed merrily at her
awkwardness.

“Try again. That was no stroke,” said George.

Harriet tried again, sending the ball toward Hazel. Hazel struck at it
with so much force that she spun her body completely about, but she did
not hit it.

“Where is it?” cried Hazel.

“Gone where the poison ivy twineth,” announced Sam solemnly. “I reckon
that ball is going yet. Woof! What a stroke!”

“Don’t you know that after a service in the beginning of the game the
ball must first touch the ground and be taken on the first rebound?”
asked Dill.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit it so hard,” apologized Harriet. “Better
luck next time.”

“She didn’t _mean_ to hit it so hard,” mocked Sam.

Billy recovered the ball after considerable hunting about in the bushes.
In the meantime another ball had been pressed into service. This time
Harriet succeeded in serving it into the court of her opponent, but Hazel
did not see it coming. The ball rolled out of bounds and lay waiting to
be picked up.

“Tell me the truth, are you girls playing off?” demanded George.

“No, indeed,” answered Harriet laughingly. “Is there still a lurking idea
in your mind that we really do know how to play?”

“There was, up to a few moments ago. I know she doesn’t,” pointing to
Hazel. “There couldn’t be any mistake about that. Nobody could
make-believe play-off like that.”

“Let me thhow them how to play,” piped Tommy.

“Yes. You and Margery have a try-out,” suggested Miss Elting.

Harriet and Hazel willingly gave way to their two companions. Margery
started in by grasping the racquet firmly in both hands. George shook his
head sorrowfully.

“What do you think you are playing—baseball?” demanded Sam jeeringly. “We
don’t bat in tennis. We hold the racquet artistically in one hand, then,
when the ball meanders over into our court, we give it a genteel swat in
the northeast corner; next, biff! bump! bang! Back she comes again, just
starving to death for more. Do you see?”

Miss Elting laughed merrily.

“Your description is graphic, indeed,” she said. “I think Margery will
have no difficulty in returning her opponent’s service after that.”

“Buthter ith too fat to play anything but football,” averred Tommy. “Thhe
would be a thuctheth in football becauthe thhe could fall on the ball and
hold it down tho nobody elthe could get it. Do I hit the ball firtht?”

“Does she hit it first?” groaned Bill. “You ‘serve’ it. That’s the polite
way to express what Sam would call the opening swat.”

“Then what do I do?” questioned Margery.

Miss Elting here took a hand in the instruction.

“When your opponent serves the ball into your court, you let the ball
strike the ground, bound up into the air, then you volley it back into
your opponent’s court. Then, the ball being in play, you do not have to
let it strike the ground again unless you wish to do so.”

“But how can I help its striking the ground if it wants to?” cried
Buster.

George groaned dismally at this question.

“By hitting it!” he shouted. “Keep the ball going as long as there is any
‘go’ left in it. Play!”

“Look out!” shouted Tommy, and without waiting for her opponent to
prepare herself, she served the ball with a fairly well directed stroke,
so accurate, in fact, that the ball sped true to its mark, hitting Buster
squarely on the nose. The hurt of it was not so great as was the
surprise. Margery staggered and fell over on her back, to the
accompaniment of shouts of laughter from both boys and girls.

“I gueth I can play,” declared Tommy proudly, “but Buthter ith too fat.”

“You did it on purpose,” cried Margery, getting to her feet and touching
her nose gingerly with the tips of her fingers. “Is it bleeding?”

“No, it isn’t bleeding,” assured George sympathetically.

“If it isn’t bleeding it’s broken. Oh, my poor nose!”

Tommy was regarding her quizzically, her shrewd little face wrinkled into
sharp lines. Tommy was very proud of her accomplishment, for did it not
prove that she was very skilful and Margery not?

“I think myself that Margery is not a success at tennis,” answered Miss
Elting. “I believe you had better give it up and let Harriet and Jane
have an opportunity. Jane hasn’t held a racquet yet.”

“No! I’ll play if it kills me,” declared Margery.

“That’s the talk!” cried Sam. “That’s the spirit that wins games and
everything else! But,” he continued, addressing Tommy Thompson, “don’t
you be so violent this time, Grace. Take it more slowly to begin with.
Just drop it over into the other court; send it over so slowly that
Margery cannot fail to see it. Easy as falling off a log.”

“Play!” commanded George.

This time Tommy made three passes before she succeeded in hitting the
ball. She gave a gentle lift on the third stroke, serving it over the
net, barely missing the net itself. Margery, following Sam Crocker’s
advice, ran toward the ball making wild swings with her racquet. Luckily,
ball and racquet met. Margery gave the ball a toss, but it was more the
force of her forward lunge than the stroke that sent the ball over the
net. The girl herself kept right on going. From sheer force of her
momentum she could not stop.

In the meantime Tommy had darted forward to meet the ball and volley it
back into the opposite court. Just before reaching the net she stubbed
her toe on a root that had been overlooked, sprawled head first into the
net, and became hopelessly entangled in its meshes.

“Thave me!” moaned Tommy.

Buster, who was still lunging forward, tripped also and plunged forward
head first, her own head bumping Tommy’s with great force.




                              CHAPTER VII
               THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS CHANGE THEIR MINDS


For a full minute the two camps were so convulsed with laughter that they
were unable to go to the rescue of the two unfortunate tennis players,
now so thoroughly wound up in the net as to be quite helpless. The more
they tried to extricate themselves the more entangled did they become.

Then something else was discovered. Sam Crocker was seen groveling on the
ground, both bands clapped tightly against his face.

“What’s the matter with you?” demanded Dill Dodd after the two
unfortunates, bruised and sore, had been assisted out of the net.

“If you had eyes you could see without asking so many questions. She let
the racquet go when she struck at the ball and it got me. The end of the
handle hit me on the nose. It’s harder than iron, too. It’s broken, as
sure as you’re alive. Oh, why did I ever permit myself to get into this
scrape?”

“That is too bad,” replied Dill sympathetically. “Here we go and buy the
best racquets to be had, then you have to break one the first thing.”

“What!” yelled Sam. “It wasn’t the racquet that was broken, it was my
nose!”

Tommy and Margery, after having escaped from the net, had sat down
heavily. Sam still sat where Tommy’s racquet had laid him low, nursing
his injured nose and rocking his body to and fro.

The campers screamed with laughter. He presented such a ludicrous figure
that they could not help laughing. Even Miss Elting could not hide her
amusement.

“That’s right. Laugh if you want to. I’d laugh myself if I weren’t afraid
of ruining my nose forever. They deserve to be laughed at,” he declared
angrily.

“We aren’t laughing at Tommy and Margery, we are laughing at you,” cried
Crazy Jane.

Harriet, in the meantime, had brought a basin of water and, kneeling
down, was washing the blood from Sam’s damaged nasal organ. As she wiped
away the blood she observed that his nose was leaning slightly to one
side. Dill, who had been an interested spectator, had observed the same
thing.

“Out of plumb, isn’t it?” he questioned quizzically.

“It’s broken. Didn’t I tell you it was?” groaned Sam. “I may not know
everything, but I know my own nose and I know when it’s broken.”

The guardian stepped over to where Sam and Harriet were sitting. She
examined Sam’s nose carefully.

“If you twitht it a little you can tell whether it ith broken or not,”
suggested Tommy.

Sam yelled in anguish at the thought.

“Don’t you dare try it!”

“Never mind Tommy. She is just a little savage,” chuckled Harriet.
“Neither Miss Elting nor I would give you the slightest unnecessary
pain.”

“That sounds very well, Harriet. I fear, however, that I shall have to
give Sam quite a little pain,” said the guardian.

“What are you going to do?” cried Sam.

“First straighten your nose, then bolster it so it will stay straight.”

“Shall I get the tent pole?” asked Dill eagerly.

“Don’t wear out my patience, fellows,” warned Sam. “I’m a wounded man,
I’m a desperate man and I’m not wholly responsible for what I say or do.
Are—are you going to twist it, Miss Elting?”

“I shouldn’t call it that. I am going to shape it, to mould it, restore
it to its natural shape as nearly as I can, then secure it there with
adhesive plaster.”

“Yeth, that ith the way,” agreed Tommy, nodding eagerly. “Let me help
you, Mith Elting.”

“You will please keep away from me. Haven’t you done enough damage as it
is?” demanded Sam.

“That ith what I get for trying to be helpful,” answered Tommy in an
aggrieved tone. “Any one would think I had broken your nothe on purpothe.
I didn’t break it at all; the racquet broke it.”

“Never mind him. He doesn’t know what he is talking about,” soothed
George. “Shall I hold his hands while you are making temporary repairs,
Miss Elting?”

“If you boys will go way back somewhere and sit down, we’ll have the job
done in a few minutes,” suggested Jane.

“Yes, please do not interfere,” urged the guardian. “Now, don’t jerk,
Sam. I am going to straighten your nose.”

Sam winced as she pressed his nose back to its normal position, and his
hands gripped a handful of dirt from the tennis court, but he uttered no
sound. While the guardian held the nose in place she instructed Harriet
Burrell how to place the adhesive plaster, which Harriet did with
delicate, skilful fingers.

“Does it hurt much?” asked the girl sympathetically.

“Hurt? Oh, no. It is the pleasantest sensation I ever enjoyed. That’s
what I’m trying to make myself believe,” he added, speaking thickly, so
as not to strain the muscles of his face. “But how am I going to
breathe?”

“You have your mouth left,” laughed Harriet.

“There,” announced the guardian finally, “I don’t believe a surgeon could
have done better. How do you think he looks, boys?”

The boys gathered about Sam, hands thrust into their trousers pockets,
and regarded him solemnly.

“I gueth,” smiled Tommy, “if you would thtand him up in a cornfield he
would thcare all the crowth away. He lookth jutht like a thcare crow,
doethn’t he?”

“Just what I was going to suggest,” added Dill. “He’d scare the crows all
right and the owner of the corn patch, too.”

“Is that all?” asked Sam, dolefully.

“I think so.” The guardian smiled down into the boyish face.

“I wish I could see how I look.”

Tommy ran into the tent, returning quickly with a hand mirror, which she
handed to the boy she had unwittingly wounded.

“Look out that your face doesn’t break it,” warned Dill.

“If my face doesn’t, your head may,” retorted Sam sharply.

“Well, what do you think of it?” asked Dill Dodd with a grin.

“Think? Why, I think I should rather have my face than yours right this
minute.”

This thrust restored Sam to good humor once more. His companions and the
girls joined in the laugh at Dodd’s expense. The boys had replaced the
net, but the hour was too late to think of having further practice.
Harriet said they must begin to prepare their supper. The boys decided
that it was time they were getting back to camp and starting their own
evening meal. They declined an invitation to remain and take supper with
the Meadow-Brook party. Harriet begged them to sit down a little while
until the fire was fairly started. Instead, they placed the wood and
started the fire for her, after which Hazel, whose turn it was to get
supper that night, promptly set about her task.

Captain Baker relapsed into his gloomy state again. The recollection of
the miserable failure of all his carefully laid plans rankled in his
mind. He knew now that the girls were not deceiving him when they said
they knew nothing about tennis playing. He had never seen a more pitiful
exhibition than that of the afternoon; he hoped never to see another like
it.

“Well, I’ll have to tell Herrington, I suppose,” he said, after remaining
silent for several minutes. “But I’ll tell you truly, I’d rather be
kicked all the way down to Newtown and back than to do it.”

“If you prefer I will write to Mr. Herrington myself and explain why it
is impossible for the girls to enter the tournament,” suggested Miss
Elting demurely.

“Never!” exclaimed George with strong emphasis. “I’m not quite such a
namby-pamby as to hide behind a woman’s skirts. I’ll face the music, I’ll
swallow my medicine and make a maple syrup face while I’m swallowing the
bitter stuff. I’m going right down to-morrow and have the disagreeable
job over.”

His companions had also relapsed into their former attitude of dejection.
The full weight of their disappointment came back with overwhelming
force.

“I wish I could talk without danger of cracking my face. I’d like to make
a few remarks just at this time,” said Sam, talking as if he had a hot
potato in his mouth.

“Try the sign language,” suggested Dill teasingly.

“All right, I will,” mumbled Sam Crocker, snatching up a pail of water
and hurling it at Dill, who succeeded in eluding all except a few drops
that rained over his head and down his neck.

“That’s a sign of my displeasure. Want any further signs? There are
plenty of them left over yonder in the spring, if the ladies will kindly
lend us the water pail.”

“No, no more signs,” replied Dill, backing away, laughing. “I would much
prefer that you remain quiet. Be as silent as a clam, if you like. I’ll
not criticise you.”

“I thought you wouldn’t like the sign language after you’d felt it,”
snarled Sam.

“When did you say the tournament is to be held?” questioned Harriet
mysteriously.

“Five weeks from to-day,” answered George Baker. “Why?” He was eyeing her
almost suspiciously.

“We have been wanting something to do, something to occupy our time and
keep us out of mischief, ever since we came up here to camp. I have been
thinking it over, thinking of your thoughtfulness and kindness, and for
your sakes, boys, I for one propose that we girls set to work and learn
the game. We surely ought to be able to accomplish something in five
weeks. Don’t you believe we can?”

“You—you—you mean that you _will_ play in the tournament?”

Harriet nodded.

“Yeow!” howled Captain George Baker, at which his companions came running
toward him. “They’re going to play, they’re going to play!” he shouted.
“Hi-diddie-um-dum, hi-diddie-um-dum!” he sang, dancing about as though he
had taken sudden leave of his senses.

“What do you say, girls?” questioned Harriet, glancing about at her
companions.

“We say whatever you do. You are the captain of the Meadow-Brook Girls
just as Captain Baker is captain of the Tramp Club,” answered Jane.

“Then we will play.” Harriet nodded with an emphasis that left no doubt
as to her earnestness. “You shall teach us to play and we will do the
rest.”

“Of course we expect to be beaten badly,” sighed Hazel. “But we shall
make good your entry for us, so that you boys will not be open to any
accusation except that of bad tennis judgment and too great faith in the
powers of the Meadow-Brook Girls,” she added with a bright little laugh.

Harriet Burrell sprang to her feet, eyes snapping.

“Wrong!” she flashed.

“What?” groaned George.

“Oh, we’ll enter the tournament, but not to lose. We’ll enter to win,
boys!”

__A few seconds of impressive silence followed Harriet Burrell’s bold
declaration, then such a shout rose from the throats of the boys of the
Tramp Club as perhaps never had been heard in those woods before.




                              CHAPTER VIII
                          ON THE SERVICE LINE


Clasping hands, the Tramp Boys formed a ring about Harriet, Sam among the
number, and danced and sang as they swung about her, to all of which she
protested laughingly.

“Save your congratulations until after we have practised for a few weeks.
We shall be better able to judge then what the prospects are.”

“But you said you were going to win,” cried Dill, excitedly. “You know
you did.”

“I still say so,” returned Harriet Burrell.

“Then don’t give us shivers up and down our backs by such statements as
‘save your congratulations,’” advised Billy. “We’ll congratulate now and
cry later if we have to. Let’s start in practising at once.”

“Not to-night. The girls are getting supper. Besides, it is too late in
the day; they couldn’t see the ball,” answered George. “To-morrow, too,
Sam’s nose will be better. He wouldn’t enjoy seeing a game now, anyway.”

“I’d enjoy seeing them play any old time, but you’ll excuse me if I get
behind a tree somewhere when the serving and the volleying are going on.
Once is enough for me, especially when Sister Tommy is on the line. Come,
fellows, come home and get my supper.”

“Yes, please do, boys,” urged Harriet. “I want to think. You will agree
that we have several things to think over between now and to-morrow, and
a number of things to talk over together, too.”

Captain Baker shook hands with her.

“I won’t try to tell you how much we appreciate what you’ve done,” he
said with feeling. “I knew all along that you could do it if you would,
but I had almost given up all hope that you’d try. I might have known you
would. Meadow-Brook Girls always come to the line when the time arrives.
You will in this instance, too.”

Harriet smiled, but made no reply to this confident remark.

“I thank you, too, for fixing my nose,” said Sam, shaking hands with Miss
Elting. “It’s a pretty poor nose at its best, I know, but it’s the only
one I have and I couldn’t get along very well without it. Good night,
ladies. I’ll say more when I can do so without danger of damaging my
countenance.”

The boys trooped away singing. They were far happier than they had been
since George Baker first broached the subject of the tennis tournament.
After the sound of their voices had died away, Harriet sat down by the
fire, and, clasping her hands about her knees, gazed into it without
saying a word to her companions. She remained in that position until the
supper call was sounded.

“Well, my dear, have you planned it all out?” questioned Miss Elting.

“Far from it, Miss Elting. I am beginning to realize that it is a pretty
big thing I have promised to do, and I shall need the help and
encouragement of every one of you girls even to keep my spirits up to
concert pitch.”

“Oh, fiddlethtickth!” scoffed Tommy.

“I think we have forgotten one important factor,” reminded Miss Elting;
“that is, the consent of your parents.”

“No, I have not overlooked that. I shall get the consent of each girl’s
parents as soon as I find there is any necessity for it.”

The guardian nodded.

“I can’t see how you can hope even to get a place in the tournament.
Tennis is a game of skill requiring years to make one proficient, and how
you can expect to get into shape to play in a tournament five weeks hence
is beyond me.”

Harriet laughed lightly.

“I am glad to hear you offer objections. That is exactly what I need to
stir me up. That no one else could hope to accomplish this thing is the
very reason why I have decided to attempt it. And I, for one, am going to
win,” she added reflectively.

“I actually believe you think you will,” exclaimed the guardian.

“Of course I do. Otherwise I should not try.”

Miss Elting regarded Harriet thoughtfully for some time, then sighed and
gave it up. Of course, the subject was discussed among the girls all the
rest of the evening, Harriet most of the time remaining in the background
and listening to the remarks of the guardian and her own companions. The
general trend of the conversation was that the Meadow-Brook Girls stood
not even a ghost of a chance to win anything in the tournament. They
would be fortunate if, after the first set, they were not barred from
further participation. Harriet had already expressed her opinion and from
that time on her whole thought would be to play to win. If she failed, it
would be through no lack of belief in herself, no lack of effort on her
part to perfect herself. She determined to turn her face to the front and
never once look back. That was what she did on the following morning.

The boys came trooping in at an early hour, but early as they were, the
girls were ready for them, with the morning work all cleared away and
Harriet and Hazel at work at the net industriously tossing the ball back
and forth.

“That’s the idea,” declared George glowingly. “I told the boys we should
find you at work.”

“Oh, good morning, boys,” greeted Harriet. “How is your poor nose this
morning, Sam!”

“It is all there still, but I can’t smell with it yet. Why, do you know
my breakfast was spoiled for me because I couldn’t get the odor of the
bacon and coffee. I wish some one would tell me how to smell through my
mouth.”

“I’ll think about it to-night,” answered Harriet mischievously. “I was
going to suggest that you boys play a game of tennis while we look on. I
am sure we shall get some pointers from your playing.”

“Miss Elting, will you play a set with me?” asked George.

“With pleasure, though I am but an indifferent player.”

“I guess you can handle a racquet as well as I can.”

“Then let us get at it. We have no time to lose. Every minute is precious
from now on for the coming five weeks.”

George chose a racquet. They began to play a few minutes later. It was
plain that they were evenly matched, though George appeared to be a
little more skilful than his opponent. The girls were enthusiastic, the
boys sitting on the side lines offering suggestions to both players from
time to time. Harriet Burrell never spoke a word throughout the game.
Instead, she watched every play with keen eyes, gaining no little
knowledge of the principles of the game from such observation.

George won the first set by a narrow margin. Miss Elting had made him
work for it, fighting him every inch of the way. While her playing was
good, it was not what might be called skilful. She played such a game as
might be expected of a country player.

“Want to try another with me? No? Who else wishes to put himself up as an
easy mark for me?”

“That’s it—easy mark,” chuckled Sam. “Any other kind would win the game
before you really got started.”

“Lucky for us that George isn’t going to try to defend the Meadow-Brook
title,” scoffed Dill.

“Harriet, suppose you try a set with me this morning?” proposed George.

Harriet stepped forward. George, standing beside her, gave her such
advice as he was able, regarding serving, volleying and position in the
court.

The game started, the boys and girls pressing close about the court, not
very much interested in George Baker’s playing, but watching eagerly
every stroke Harriet made. Was not she going to play in the tournament?
Harriet worked hard, worked until the beads of perspiration stood out on
her forehead, but she was awkward, she was uncertain in placing the ball,
sending it out of bounds fully as often as she dropped it within reach of
her opponent. George won easily.

“You are the worst I ever saw,” declared Sam very frankly. “You couldn’t
win a game in a thousand years.”

“Keep quiet,” commanded George. “We can’t all be champions the first day
we stand before a net. Give her a chance, can’t you?”

“Oh, I don’t mind Sam’s criticism,” answered Harriet brightly. “Instead
of discouraging me, it makes me all the more determined to learn to
play.”

“And only five weeks to learn in,” groaned Billy.

“And a wooden man to teach her,” mumbled Sam.

“Any fellow who is so slow that he can’t dodge a racquet shouldn’t
criticise his betters,” retorted George cuttingly. “Before we go any
further I shall deliver a lecture. The ladies will please give their
attention while I explain a few of the terms. A ‘volley,’ as you know, is
hitting the ball before it touches the ground. The ‘server’ is the one
who hits the ball from behind his base line and at one side of the center
diagonally over the net into his opponent’s service court. Understand?”

The girls nodded, but did not interrupt by speaking.

“The one who serves the ball is called ‘the server,’ his opponent ‘the
striker-out.’ In the first play, as I think I have already told you, the
ball must hit the ground before being returned. The latter stroke is
called a ‘ground stroke.’ There are some other fancy strokes that I have
seen, but can’t explain to you. I’ll have some one who knows more about
the game than I do tell you about these later on.”

“I don’t believe we quite understand how the scoring is done,” said
Harriet.

“That is easily explained. In the first place, four points make a game
unless the score is tied at three points each, when two points in
succession must be secured to win the game.”

“But how are they scored?” interjected Jane.

“I’m trying to tell you,” answered George. “They are scored as follows:
‘love,’ or no points; fifteen, or one point; thirty, or two points;
forty, or three points; game, or four points. Love-all, fifteen-all,
thirty-all are called when the score is even, each side having nothing or
one or two points, as the case may be. At forty-all the score is called
‘deuce,’ each side having three points, and as either side secures the
next point it becomes ‘vantage-in’ or ‘vantage-out’ according to whether
server or striker has the advantage.”

“My grathiouth! you make my head thwim,” murmured Tommy.

“Then the score hovers between vantage and deuce until one side secures
two points in succession,” explained Miss Elting.

“Yes,” agreed George, nodding. “And six games won by either side
constitute a set unless the score is tied at five-all, when
deuce-and-advantage games are generally played, the score going on up to
six, seven, eight-all and so forth until one side gets two successive
games.”

“Isn’t it awful?” wailed Margery. “I never, never can get all of that
into my head.”

“That ith becauthe you are fat,” retorted Tommy. “You know a lot, don’t
you, George?”

“If he could play half as well as he can talk about it, he’d be the
champion player of the United States,” declared Dill.

They began another game, Jane taking Harriet’s place this time. Jane was
fully as awkward as Harriet had been, but she made a somewhat better
showing, playing to better advantage. Hazel and Tommy played the same
awkward game that had marked Harriet Burrell’s exhibition. One after
another took her place on the service line, over and over again, this
continuing all through the forenoon until half-past eleven, when George
announced that they must go back to camp and get their noon meal. They
declined to stay to luncheon with the girls. Besides, George said Fred
Avery had gone to town to bring some supplies that were needed and they
were to meet him at the camp.

George was gloomy all the way back to camp. He did not speak a word to
his companions, but tramped along looking deeply dejected.

“Well, what do you think of it?” demanded Dill quizzically.

“What do I think of it? Hopeless—utterly hopeless!” groaned Captain
George. “Did you ever see such work in all your life?”

“I never did,” agreed Dill. “It was bad.”

“Then you don’t think they stand any show to win any of the prizes in the
tournament?” questioned Dodd.

“None at all. The way they play they couldn’t win a game from a team of
six-year-old boys. And what is worse, they don’t realize what a spectacle
they are making of themselves trying to play. But they’re plucky. We all
knew they were. They will keep on fighting, and in the end we shall have
to tell them there isn’t the least show. I’ll have to go to Herrington,
after all, and tell him that they can’t enter the tournament.”

“If we had some one who knew something to teach them how to play, things
might be different,” declared Sam Crocker maliciously. “Maybe a miracle
will happen.”

“Miracles don’t happen in these woods. And what’s more, I want you to
understand that I know how to play tennis fully as well as you do. It’s
hopeless, though. I wonder why Fred hasn’t got back yet? Go on and get
your luncheon ready. I don’t want anything to eat.”

George walked off into the woods and sat down on a log, holding his head
in his hands, now and then uttering a deep sigh. It was he who had
proposed this surprise, he who had urged upon the boys the purchase of
the tennis outfit, so he received no sympathy from them. But to their
credit be it said, the boys of the Tramp Club felt as much concerned over
the failure of their well-laid plans as did Captain George Baker himself.

George stuck to his determination not to eat anything. He remained in the
woods until long after the boys had finished their luncheon and had come
to look for him.

“Are you going back for practice?” asked Billy.

“Of course. What do you think I am?” retorted George savagely. But the
afternoon was destined to bring with it a surprise that set their pulses
throbbing, that filled them with new hope and courage.




                               CHAPTER IX
                      A CLOUD WITH A SILVER LINING


As had been the case that morning, Harriet, Jane, Hazel and Tommy were
found at work, the former two at the net, the latter two some little
distance away, tossing balls back and forth with their racquets. The
Meadow-Brook Girls had made up their minds to learn the game, and, still
further, to learn to play an expert game. Once having made up their minds
to a certain course of action they would forge ahead, undaunted by any
obstacles that might be placed in their way. Bright eyes and glowing
faces encouraged even the morose Captain Baker. He went so far as to
smile his approval.

“We will get down to business again,” he said. “Harriet and Jane will
please take their places, Harriet to serve, Jane to be the striker-out.
Play!”

Jane began by losing her racquet, which fell near the serving line in
Harriet’s court. That was the beginning of the match, drawing suppressed
groans from the boys and laughter from the girls.

Margery watched the practice indifferently. She declined even to
practice. Tommy declared that Buster was too fat to play tennis anyway,
and that it was fortunate for her companions that she knew it. The game
was resumed and played out, Jane winning. There had not been a moment of
encouragement in it to the observers on the boys’ side. Even Miss Elting
had frequently shaken her head, evidencing her hopelessness of the girls
ever accomplishing anything at the game.

Hazel and Tommy played next. The little lisping girl took a keener
interest in her tennis practice than they had ever known her to do in
anything else.

“Tommy is going to be an expert player one of these days,” declared
Harriet. “Which, however, is more than can be said of some of her
companions. How do you think we are getting along, George?”

“I couldn’t say so soon,” answered George evasively.

“Now, now, George. You know you told the boys to-day that we were
hopeless,” returned Harriet laughingly.

George flushed to the roots of his hair.

“Somebody told you,” flared Captain George.

“Yes,” she answered nodding, her eyes snapping mischievously.

“I know. Sam told you. I’ll whale you for that when we get back to camp,
Sam,” threatened George.

“No, Sam did not tell me. You told me yourself, Captain,” chuckled
Harriet. “You told me first by coloring when I accused you of it, then
you admitted it by word of mouth. You see, I know you.” Harriet laughed
merrily, George’s companions joining in the laugh good-naturedly.

“She’s too sharp for you, Captain,” shouted Dill.

“Even if I can’t play tennis,” answered Harriet. “But I’m going to play
tennis and I’m going to play it well. One of these days I shall beat you,
George, but I shall not forget that it was you who taught me. Don’t you
think I shall make a player? Answer me frankly. No evasion, sir.”

“Well, I—I—I can’t say just——”

“Tell the truth.”

“No, I don’t. There, I’ve said it. You made me do it, so don’t blame me
for saying so. I don’t believe there is the least little bit of use in
our going on with this. You might learn to play the game, but you never,
never will be expert enough to go into a match game,” he declared with
emphasis.

“Aren’t you an encouraging boy, though?” jeered Jane. “So glad you told
us.”

“Am I to understand that you are no longer our instructor, George? If so,
we had better get some one else. I am quite certain that Sam would be
glad to teach us the game. Wouldn’t you, Sam?” asked Harriet
mischievously.

“Well, seeing that my nose is out of commission, I guess I’d have to wear
a mask. If I had a mask and a coat of armor, I might be willing to take a
chance at teaching you. I guess the Pickle had better do it, though. We
can take turns at it and as fast as one gets knocked out another can take
his place and go on with the game.”

“Oh, you fellows make me weary,” cried George, springing up. “I’ll teach
you, Harriet. I said I would, and I will. I guess, if you have the pluck
to stand up and keep batting away at the balls without losing your nerve,
I ought to be willing to do my part, even if the tournament is out of the
question. We will go on with the practice.”

Tommy smiled wisely at Jane, and the latter chuckled under her breath.
The practice was resumed, this time with renewed vigor. Some slight
improvement was noted, though the great difficulty seemed to be in
getting the girls to place the ball accurately. They seemed to be unable
to hit the ball so that it would fall in any certain designated spot.
Their strokes, too, were uneven. The ball was just as likely to fall
spinning on the volleyer’s side of the net as into the court of her
opponent.

The technical name for this is “a fault,” and means a score for the
faulter’s opponent. There were many such, the faults being about even,
however, with little or no advantage for either side. It was discouraging
work, discouraging for George Baker and discouraging for the girls,
though they did not show by their expression that they were other than
happy and contented with their work. George found himself wondering again
if they really knew how badly they played. He decided that they could not
know, or, with all their pluck, they would give it up.

“The gloom on our side of the camp is so thick you can cut it with a
bread-knife,” thought Sam after watching the game for the better part of
an hour. “What spectacles they are making of themselves, and—hooray! Good
play. What’s the matter, Harriet? Did you forget yourself?”

She had made a really brilliant play. To their amazement, others equally
as brilliant followed it. Then all at once there came a slump. Harriet
Burrell played worse than ever. It had come to the point where she could
not even hit a ball, much less deliver it properly.

“If there were a lake handy, I’d jump into it and drown myself,” George
confided to Billy.

“Go jump in the spring. A good ducking will do you good. Your face is as
red as a lobster. You couldn’t be any hotter if you had been playing a
championship game yourself.”

“A championship game!” groaned Baker. “Don’t mention it!”

“Do you know anything?” demanded Sam, coming up at that juncture.

George shook his head.

“No, I’m a driveling idiot. I always knew something was wrong with me,
but until this thing came up I never knew exactly what that something
was. Now I do.”

“Glad you’ve got a clear understanding of yourself,” answered Sam. “It
will be the best thing ever for what ails you. But you were mighty slow
in getting wise to yourself. Even Tommy could tell you. She could tell
you what you have done in this matter, too.”

“Eh? What I have done?”

“Yes.”

“Well, what have I done, that you haven’t done?” demanded George.

“You’ve bitten off more than you can chew,” answered Sam, with a series
of cautious nods, being wary of the bandages across his injured nose.
“That’s what you’ve done.”

“I have,” agreed George. “So have you, so have all the fellows. We are
all in it up to our chins. What have you in the back of your head besides
what you’ve just said?”

“That we ought to have a crack player to teach those girls.”

“Sam,” said Baker gravely, and with great impressiveness, “the champion
player of the world couldn’t put any ginger or skill into the playing of
those young women, all of which isn’t saying a word against them, for I
admire them more than any lot of girls I ever knew, and so do we all.
Besides, there isn’t any champion on tap, so we must grub along with
Captain George Baker. Hello, there comes Fred Avery.”

The latter put down his bundles, wiped the perspiration from his
forehead, then, walking over, tossed the morning paper to George. Baker,
hot and perspiring, sat down with his back against a granite boulder and
glanced idly through the pages of the newspaper. All at once he sprang to
his feet and, waving the newspaper frantically above his head, began to
dance about and yell as if he had suddenly gone crazy.

“Catch him! Catch him!” howled Sam. “Somebody catch him! He has
hydrophobia!”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it!” yelled George. “I’ve _got it_! Saved, saved!
Whoop! Yeow! Oh, I was never so glad in my life. Yell, you Indians,
yell!”




                               CHAPTER X
                       A JOY AND A DISAPPOINTMENT


“I don’t know what it’s all about, but I’ll yell,” shouted Dill Dodd. He
did. His companions set up a perfect bedlam of yells and howls.

The girls regarded them with puzzled looks.

“Have they gone crathy?” questioned Tommy apprehensively, ready to run
the instant she was thoroughly satisfied that the Tramp Boys really had
lost their minds. They had for the moment lost their heads, but not their
minds. They were howling in sympathy with George Baker, who appeared to
have good reason for all the noise he was making.

Miss Elting sat down and laughed heartily. Then, bethinking herself of
the fact that George had been reading the paper at the time of his
outburst, she reached for the paper, which he had by this time tossed
aside, and began reading the headlines.

“It’s there, it’s there!” howled George. “I tell you it’s there. We’re
saved. The thing is as good as done. Oh, who would have thought it! I
said there were no miracles that could happen up in these woods. One has
come to pass. Do you hear me? A miracle, and nothing less!”

“What’s the row about, if I might pause long enough to inquire?” asked
Sam Crocker.

“Give me a piece of paper—quick!” commanded the captain. Harriet got a
sheet of writing paper from the tent, but not before Tommy had handed him
the newspaper. “Yes, it’s writing paper I want. You’ve a head on your
shoulders, Harriet.”

“I thought you considered me a hopeless case,” laughed Harriet.

“I’ll tell you what I think of you after I’ve got this off my mind. Oh,
this is great!” George began scribbling on the sheet of writing paper.

“It is,” agreed Sam. “I’m taking your word for it, you see, not having
been let into the mystery.”

“Who is the fastest runner in the outfit?” demanded Baker, standing up
and glaring about him.

“I gueth I am,” answered Tommy.

“I don’t want a girl, I want a boy. Here, Charlie Mabie, come here—on the
jump. You are the swiftest runner at hare and hounds, especially when
there’s a square meal at the other end. I want you to take this to
Meadow-Brook at top speed. If you fall down, don’t stop to get up, just
keep right on running. Run for your life,” commanded the captain
breathlessly.

“Wha—at shall I do with it when I get to Meadow-Brook?” questioned
Charlie.

“Send it!” exploded George.

“By mail?”

“No, by freight,” drawled Sam.

“By telegraph, of course.”

“What is it all about?” demanded Dill.

“Read it. They won’t understand anything until you do read it. No, give
it to me. You’ll stumble over it and waste time. Listen, you people, to
the telegram that is going to produce the real thing. Listen, I tell you:
‘You said you would do anything on earth for me. If you mean it, wire me
that you are coming here on the next train ready to serve me to the limit
for the next four weeks. It’s a case of life and death!’ Now, run, you
Indian! Burn up the road, and WAIT for an answer even if you have to
sleep on a baggage truck on the station platform. _Go!_”

Charlie Mabie started away at a long, loping run, quickly crossing the
open space and disappearing in the forest beyond. Captain Baker sat down
heavily, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with a sleeve.

“Whew! Never got such a shock in my life. Think that will bring him?
Well, I guess yes.”

“Bring whom?” asked Bill.

“Disbrow. Must I draw a diagram of the whole thing?” retorted the captain
irritably.

“Disbrow,” reflected Sam. “That’s all right, but who is Disbrow?”

“Who is Disbrow?” groaned George. “Never hear of P. Earlington Disbrow?
You mean to say you never heard?”

Sam shook his head. “I’m not a walking edition of ‘Who’s Who,’” he
reminded.

“We are all equally in the dark,” interjected Harriet. “Why not explain
to us?”

“Yeth, thith thuthpenthe ith terrible,” agreed Tommy with emphasis. “I
can’t thtand much more of thith.”

George Baker made a helpless gesture.

“P. Earlington Disbrow,” he began, with slow, measured words, “is an
Englishman—an Englishman from England. Get that, Sam?”

Sam grinned and nodded.

“P. Earlington Disbrow is one of the greatest tennis players in the
world, champion of all England and half of the United States. _Now_ do
you get me?”

“I do,” answered Sam, nodding understandingly. “This Disbrow fellow is an
Englishman—from England—and you’ve sent for him to come all the way over
the ocean to——”

“Will you be quiet? No! He already is over the ocean. He is in New York,
and I’ve wired him to come along a-whooping.”

“Is he going to whoop for us at the tournament?” questioned Jane.

“He may, though he isn’t of the whooping kind,” replied the captain in a
slightly modified tone. “I have sent for him to come here to teach you
girls to play tennis. If he can’t do it, no other person on earth can.
Listen, and I’ll read the item from the newspaper: ‘P. Earlington
Disbrow, the well-known tennis champion, arrived in New York on the
“Caledonian” yesterday. When interviewed as to the purpose of his visit
to America, he denied that he had come here for the purpose of arranging
any matches. Mr. Disbrow announces his intention of visiting old friends,
but wishes to witness the mid-season tournaments, for most of which he is
ineligible.’ That is the whole story,” finished George. “Are there any
other questions you wish to ask?”

“Yes; I’d like to ask how you happen to have such a pull with this
fellow?” questioned Sam. “Is it a real drag or are you doing it on your
nerve?”

“I have an idea that Captain George knew what he was doing when he sent
that telegram,” spoke up Miss Elting.

“Thank you, Miss Elting. I am pleased that some one takes me seriously.
It is what Sam calls ‘a real drag.’ I didn’t wish to say anything about
it. Two years ago I had the good luck to be at Newport and to drag P. E.
ashore unconscious. A floating spar had hit him on the head while he was
swimming in the surf. But I wasn’t far away, so I just swam over and
dragged him ashore. That’s the kind of a drag it is, Samuel. P. E.
naturally was grateful. This is what he said: ‘George, if you ever need
me, your Uncle Disbrow is at your command no matter where he may be at
the time. You send for me and I’ll be there as fast as steam and
lightning will take me.’ Not much of a drag, eh?” chuckled George.

“I didn’t think it was so strong as that,” muttered Sam.

“And he may come here to coach us?” wondered Harriet. “Wouldn’t that be
perfectly splendid?”

“You don’t know whether he will or not,” answered Dill. “P. E. may pay no
attention to George’s telegram, then you will be up against it just as
hard as before.”

“He may not get the message, of course,” agreed George. “But if it does
reach him, you mark what I say, we are sure to hear from him. P. E. is a
real man. Certain persons who were opposed to him in matches didn’t know
this fact till they faced him across the nets; then they found out in
short order. Oh, he is the right sort and you’ll like him after you get
to know him as well as I do. Curious none of you folks over heard of
him.”

“I have,” answered the guardian.

“And so have I,” added Harriet. “I have read of his matches, both on this
and the other side of the Atlantic. What a glorious thing to think that
he may be here to instruct us! He could show us how to win a match. By
the way, Captain Baker, how many will there be in our class at the
tournament?”

“They are all in your class—that is, eligible for the same events. Of
course, you girls will play in doubles. For instance, you and Jane will
play together on a side with two other girls opposed to you, while Hazel
and Grace are playing together on another court against another pair of
girls. If either of you win a certain number of sets, whatever may be
agreed upon by the committee, then the winners play each other. Doesn’t
sound so very formidable, does it?” he smiled.

“Enough so,” answered Harriet Burrell thoughtfully.

“We might as well go on with our practice. Can’t afford to waste any
time, you know,” reminded George. They took up their work with new
courage, and all during that afternoon the girls worked steadily and to
better purpose than at any time before.

They had just stopped playing for the day when Charlie Mabie came
trotting into camp. He was waving a yellow sheet over his head. He had
been fortunate enough to get a ride in an automobile both going and
coming and so had returned early.

“He’s got it!” yelled George. The captain sprang forward and snatched the
telegram from the hands of his messenger. “Whoop! I told you so. Listen
to this, ladies of the Meadow-Brook organization and gentlemen of the
Tramp Club, listen to what the champion of England says in reply to
George Baker’s telegram: ‘Coming, you bet! Meet me seven-thirty to-morrow
morning. (Signed) Earlington Disbrow.’”

“Am I the original provider?” demanded the captain triumphantly.

The boys of the Tramp Club tossed their hats in the air, uttering a
series of wild whoops, to which was added the yell of the Meadow-Brook
Girls.

The entire party was wild with delight over the good news and Captain
Baker was more a hero than ever before. While Harriet and Hazel were
getting the supper, to which the boys had been invited, the others passed
the time in song and general congratulation. It was a merry camp.

George and one of his companions were to go to Meadow-Brook early in the
morning to meet the champion tennis player at half-past seven o’clock.
Jane suggested that she, too, go in and bring the visitor back in her
car. This Miss Elting did not approve. George said it would be
unnecessary, that he could get some one to drive out with them. It was,
therefore, arranged that way, and the boys left their friends shortly
before ten o’clock that evening, filled with anticipation for the morrow.

A start was made next morning before daylight, George and Charlie setting
out on foot for the village, more than ten miles away. However, they did
not in the least mind the long walk. They were too well used to tramping
over the country.

The girls fairly counted the hours next morning. They calculated that
George and his friend should reach the camp in the woods no later than
half-past nine o’clock. The camp had been put in perfect order for the
guest, and the Tramp Boys in their own camp had set aside a small tent
for Disbrow, making the interior of the tent as comfortable as possible.
If he thought best after reaching the camp to transfer operations to the
village, this could be very easily accomplished. They did not know how
well pleased he might be with the discomforts of life in camp there in
the woods.

Half-past nine passed, then ten. At noon there was still no sign of
George and his friend. The girls sat down to their noon meal, which they
had hoped to share with Disbrow. The boys refused to eat with them. The
former were becoming gloomy. They felt that something must have occurred
to detain the party at Meadow-Brook, but what that something might be
they were unable to imagine.

“There comes some one,” shouted Sam suddenly, while the girls were still
at their meal.

Everybody sprang up. Just emerging from the log road that led into their
camp clearing they saw Captain George Baker. The captain had lost his
former springiness of step, his alert manner. He was dragging himself
along as though worn out with fatigue. Charlie Mabie was not with him.
Neither was the expected guest, P. Earlington Disbrow, the tennis
champion of all England and part of the United States.

The boys ran forward to meet George, the girls following more slowly.
Harriet knew from George Baker’s attitude that something was wrong. His
dejection was apparent.

“Where is he? What’s the matter?” shouted Billy.

George waved the boys aside, and stumbling into camp leaned heavily
against a sapling. The Tramp Boys and the Meadow-Brook Girls gathered
about him, gazing at Captain George with eyes heavy with anxiety.

“It’s all over,” groaned George. “It’s ended, like the Englishman’s
sparrow, gone up the blooming spout. Don’t ever speak to me of it again;
don’t ever mention tennis nor tournament nor Disbrow nor anything else.”

“Perhaps if you were to tell us what it is all about we might offer some
suggestions,” said Miss Elting.

“Too late, Miss Elting. I tell you it’s finished. Read that!”

He thrust a yellow sheet toward her, the girls recognizing it to be a
telegraphic message. The guardian read it hurriedly, then she, too, sat
down heavily.




                               CHAPTER XI
                    A BLOW THAT NEARLY KILLED GEORGE


“I don’t blame you for feeling disturbed, George,” comforted the
guardian, “but there is still a ray of hope left here.”

“Begging your pardon, there isn’t even a glimmer,” returned George. “I
might have known something would be sure to happen.”

“May I see it?” asked Harriet. Miss Elting handed the message to her.

“Read it aloud,” cried Dill. “George doesn’t seem to think any one is
interested except himself. What’s the matter with Disbrow? When is he
coming?”

“Isn’t coming at all,” answered George weakly. “Please read it.”

“‘George Baker, Meadow-Brook, N. H.’ It is dated at New London,”
explained Harriet, then continued to read the message, which was as
follows: “‘Unfortunate accident. Pullman step porter set down tilted
under foot when I was stepping from train. Landed on back with sprained
ankle. Laid up perhaps two weeks. Awfully sorry. See what I can do if
come here. Let know any change. (Signed) Disbrow.’”

“Must have thought he was writing a letter instead of sending a
telegram,” jeered Crazy Jane.

The boys glanced at each other and breathed deeply. Words failed them
just at that moment.

“Sprained his ankle and is laid up,” reflected Jane. “He asks you to come
to see him. Are you going?”

“You must not go on our account,” said Harriet Burrell. “You must not
worry him with our troubles. He has plenty of his own at present. We
shall get along somehow.”

“Yes, don’t take it so to heart, George,” urged the guardian. “We are
fortunate in having you to coach us. I know you will turn us out finished
players at the expiration of five weeks from the time we started.”

“Where is Mr. Mabie?” asked Hazel.

“I left him in town, in case there should happen to be anything more from
Disbrow. But there won’t be. I know what a sprained ankle is. I had one
once, and I don’t want another. What a mess I have made of it!”

“Indeed, you have not,” returned Harriet quickly. “You have done a great
deal for us. That you have failed in this one instance is no fault of
your own. Circumstances have been too much for you, that is all. We shall
never forget what you have done for us. We are the ones who have not
measured up to the mark, but you will remember I told you we were going
to play in the tournament and going to win. I say it again. We are going
to WIN!”

“You will have to play a better game than you have done so far,” George
blurted, then, realizing what he had said, made an humble apology for his
apparent rudeness.

“You are right,” Harriet laughed merrily. “We shall have to play a much
better game, and that is what we are going to do. But we are wasting
time. Girls, get ready for practice. Captain, you sit on the boulder
yonder from where you can watch us. Don’t be afraid to criticise. We need
your severest criticism.”

The girls ran for their racquets, Sam got the tennis balls, George pulled
himself together and stumbled over to the boulder, on which he took his
seat, but instead of watching the girls, he sunk his head in his hands
and relapsed into his former gloomy mood.

“Say,” said Sam, giving the captain a poke in the ribs with a thumb,
“look at those girls. We aren’t going to be quitters, are we?”

George hesitated a moment, then raised his head, threw back his shoulders
and slid from the rock to his feet.

“You’re right, Sam. For once in your life you are talking sense. Of
course we’ll go on. I was so bitterly disappointed about Disbrow that I
lost my courage. I’ve found it again. If we fail now, it won’t be because
we didn’t try. Prepare for the first set. No fooling now. Harriet and
Tommy will play together this time, opposing Jane and Hazel. We shall see
what you can do in team work. This will be the regular set provided you
can stand it to play that long without a rest. It is time we did some
grilling.” George was himself again. Harriet smiled and nodded
approvingly.

“Please do not hesitate to say what you think,” she urged. “We are not so
sensitive that we cannot stand listening to the truth.”

“Play!”

Nearly every play for the first half of the set was a fault. George
groaned within himself, but was careful not to show how hopeless he felt
inwardly. He worked with them until the perspiration was trickling down
his cheeks, until he was well-nigh exhausted from the nervous strain.

Along in the fourth game, however, matters began to brighten a little.
Harriet and Tommy made some very good strokes. Tommy showed herself to be
very quick on her feet, though there was no certainty as to where she was
going to place a ball when she struck it. It was just as likely to soar
off among the bushes and be lost as it was to drop in the court of her
opponents. Jane developed no little power in her strokes, but her
footwork was poor, yet a keen judge would have discovered good tennis
material in each of the girls at the net. George, of course, was not an
expert, and these little surface indications of possibilities were lost
on him. He saw only faults or scores. Anything less than the latter sent
his heart down into his boots, figuratively speaking.

Harriet and Tommy won the set handily, though the last game of the set
was worse played than any game since they had been practising. If
anything, George was more discouraged than at any previous time. Tommy,
however, was delighted with her own playing. The little lisping girl
considered that she and Harriet had played a wonderful game, merely
because they had defeated Jane and Hazel.

They were given no time in which to discuss the game. Their instructor
changed sides, placing Hazel and Harriet together, Jane and Tommy opposed
to them. Harriet and Hazel won the set, the former’s fast playing, though
full of faults, being responsible for her side getting the game.

“You are showing speed, at any rate,” was George’s compliment. “If I were
a better coach, I might be able to push you along faster, but this is the
first time I ever tried to teach any one to play tennis. I wish Disbrow
were here.”

“Oh, forget Disbrow!” answered Sam. “We are going to win out in this
tournament. I believe with Harriet that there isn’t another team on the
coast that can defeat this one. They are only amateurs, girls. Probably
many of them are beginners, too.”

“Don’t you fool yourself about that,” returned Baker. “Herrington told me
they had a lot of likely entries, almost professional players, though, of
course, they are not that in fact. One thing I wish to call the attention
of the players to, is that Jane and Tommy played too far apart. Tommy
took a position down near the net while Jane was back near the serving
line. You saw how Harriet and Hazel played, both back some distance from
the net. They won the game. Remember, it is easier to run forward and
pick up a ball than it is to run backward. Play closer together and you
will put up a much better defence and run less risk of the ball passing
you. Try it this time, playing closer together.”

They did, with the result that the game was much closer than the one
before, though Harriet Burrell’s side won as usual. Just why her side
always won George Baker was at a loss to understand, for it was plain
that Harriet played a wretched game, worse, if anything, than did her
companions.

“Will you please tell me how you did it?” questioned George after
Harriet’s side had won again.

“I did not do it. Tommy and I did it together,” was the naive reply. But
Harriet, awkward and unscientific as she was, had used some little trick
that got the better of her opponents. They did not appear to realize
this, but Harriet did. She knew full well, and that trick was a phase of
the game that she proposed to cultivate and work to the limit. She was
very sorry that they were not to be coached by Mr. Disbrow, knowing that
he could be of great assistance to her in developing this very trick.
Disbrow would have understood instantly the value of it.

The play was continued with more or less discouraging results, so far as
Baker was concerned, all the afternoon, with only an occasional halt for
rest and such instruction as the coach was able to give them. At sundown
he threw himself down on the ground, his face red and perspiring, his
throat hoarse from yelling at his pupils, his body weary. It was the
hardest day’s work that George Baker had ever done, but the nervous
strain was the cause of his great fatigue rather than the physical
effort.

“Come, fellows, we must be getting to our own wigwam,” he said, starting
up suddenly.

“You are going to remain here and have supper,” replied Miss Elting. “You
were quite willing to be with us last evening when the skies were bright.
Now that they are not bright it is all the more reason why you should
stay this time. You are all fagged out and, what is worse, discouraged.
We shall have a nice supper this evening, then afterward some songs and
games if you wish.”

“No more games for me to-day,” interrupted George, “begging your pardon.”

“I did not mean tennis games. I, too, have seen enough of those for one
day. I meant other games that will relax you all. Songs are a good thing.
Our players will ‘go stale’ with too much work. It is not a good plan, I
have heard, to keep too steadily at it when one is preparing for a
contest. Am I not right?”

George nodded. Sam smiled broadly.

“Yes, we must take care of our principals,” declared the latter. “They
are very delicate and very precious.” This raised the first laugh of that
long, trying afternoon. The boys checked their own laughter suddenly, as
if they had caught themselves doing something wrong. Harriet started the
Meadow-Brook yell, in which the boys joined with a shout. From that
moment on the gloom of the day was less marked, conversation more natural
and easy.

When the supper was served on a table that the boys had made for them,
they all sat down on rustic seats put together by the same skilful hands.

“Now, isn’t this better than for you boys to go back to camp to mope all
the evening while we girls are doing the same here?” demanded the
guardian.

“Yes; this has the other backed off the court, over the side lines into
the bushes,” declared Sam.

“Otherwise, nothing but slang would quite fit the occasion, eh, Mr.
Crocker?” chuckled Miss Elting. “I am not rebuking you. I have never had
and never expect to have occasion to do that to a Tramp Boy. How long is
Mr. Mabie to remain in town?”

“I told him to stay there until P. E. either telegraphed or wrote.”

“You think there is some prospect of his coming, then, do you?”

“Not one chance in a million,” answered George with emphasis. “Would you,
if you had a sprained ankle? I reckon he will make the Pullman Company
pay very dearly for this, though. The ankle of a tennis player is worth
something, I should say.”

“What do you think of the girls’ playing now?”

“In some ways it is an improvement, but——”

“But! There is just the trouble,” cried Harriet. “When we do our best you
say, ‘It is very good, but——’”

“Well, isn’t it?” he demanded a little sourly.

“I have not permitted myself to think of the matter in that way,” replied
Harriet.

“Then you have given up hope so far as the tournament is concerned?”
questioned the guardian, fixing a steady look on the face of the captain.

“I—I should hardly care to say that,” stammered George, avoiding her
eyes.

“But deep down in your heart you do not believe the Meadow-Brook Girls
stand the slightest chance of winning even a place in the tennis
tournament at Newtown?” persisted the guardian.

“Do you?” returned George.

“I am asking you, Captain Baker.”

“No, I don’t. There, you made me say it again. Now will you tell me what
you think?”

“I don’t know that I should put it quite so strongly as you have, but
from what we have seen I should say the chances were not particularly
brilliant,” she admitted.

“You are tho encouraging!” lisped Tommy. “Anybody who can play thuch a
game ath I can to be talked about in that way! It maketh me thad, tho
thad and tho tired!”

“One person cannot play for the whole team, you know,” said Dill, with a
grin.

“Yeth, I thuppothe that ith tho. However, I will do jutht ath the otherth
withh.”

“What do you say to giving it up, girls?”

Miss Elting was not smiling now, though, had they been more observant,
they would have seen a suggestion of laughter in her eyes. She knew her
girls well, and perhaps was asking the question with a deeper purpose in
mind than appeared on the surface.

“I say just what I have said before,” answered Harriet slowly and with
emphasis. “I have gone into this not for the sake of giving up, but with
the purpose to go through with it. We owe it to the boys who have done so
much for us to keep going until the end. That is what I propose to do
unless I am forbidden by Miss Elting or by my parents.”

“But you can’t win,” cried George. “You know you can’t.”

“What will you do if I win?”

“I’ll take off my hat to you, even though I get a sunstroke doing it,”
returned George, his face relaxing into a broad smile.

“You shall have the chance, for I am going to play and I am going to win.
The team is going to win. That is what I mean when I say I am going to do
it. Of course, I do not expect to do it alone. I know we are going to win
a place. I feel it. I can’t tell you just why, but I do, so you had
better prepare to protect yourself from sunstroke. If there are any trees
where the tournament is to be held, by all means engage a place under
one.”

“They don’t have trees near tennis courts. Trees throw shadows that
sometimes make the players nervous or cause them to misjudge their
distances. No, I’ll have to take my medicine and I will.”

“Hark!” Jane held up a hand for silence.

“What is it?” asked Sam, with a half startled look in his eyes.

“I heard some one speak. It may have been out in the road, though.”

“One couldn’t hear as far as that. Besides, I am sure I heard a call,”
declared Harriet.

“Some one surely is coming. I hear two voices,” agreed Miss Elting.
“Perhaps it is Charlie Mabie returning from the village with good news.”

“It may be Charlie Mabie all right, but there is nothing doing on the
good news,” replied George.

“Hi, there! Hello the camp!” called the familiar voice of Charlie.

“Hello yourself,” answered George.

“Come out and help me, some of you strong-armed boys. I have picked up a
fellow who has hurt his foot. Can’t you give a poor suffering chap a
hand?”

The boys sprang up, George with them. In the dim light they could faintly
make out two figures approaching them. One was Mabie, the other no one
recognized. The latter was leaning on Charlie’s arm.

“’Owdy, Georgie, old chap?” called a second voice.

“What-a-at?” gasped Captain Baker. “Who is it?”

“Don’t you know, old chap? Have you forgotten an old friend so soon?”

“It’s P. E.! It’s P. E. himself! Whoop!” Captain Baker uttered a wild
yell and rushing forward threw his arms about the neck of the newcomer.
“Oh, P. E., P. E., you did come after all; you didn’t go back on your old
salt water friend! Girls, he’s here, he’s here, I tell you! Yell, you
Tramps! Yell, I tell you!”




                             __CHAPTER XII
                        A GUEST WHO WAS WELCOME


“It is Mr. Disbrow!” gasped Hazel.

“And he didn’t sprain his ankle at all,” added Jane.

“He must have injured it, for he is walking with a crutch,” replied Miss
Elting.

“Not a word, Disbrow. Come over here and sit down and fix your foot so it
will be comfortable. You may tell us all about it later on. Sam, fix a
seat there for P. E. Somebody put down his coat for P. E. to sit on.”

The newcomer was laughing.

“George, I’m not quite in swaddling clothes,” he said, “nor am I wholly
an invalid. Please introduce me to your friends.”

George Baker flushed, for, in his joy at seeing Disbrow, he had neglected
the formalities. He introduced the guest first to Miss Elting, then to
the Meadow-Brook Girls and afterward to the boys of the Tramp Club.
Harriet had already begun making coffee and was preparing a luncheon for
the unexpected guest, who had had no supper as they afterward learned. He
was given a place at the end of the table where he might stretch his
injured foot. With all the girls and boys gathered about him watching
each mouthful that the champion ate, Disbrow did full justice to the
supper, for he was hungry. During the meal he explained that the doctors
who had examined his ankle at the hospital had first pronounced it a
serious sprain, after which they had revised their opinion, finding it
merely a slight strain which, within a few days, would entirely
disappear.

“I lost no time in hot-crutching it out to Meadow-Brook,” added the
Englishman. “I knew that you wouldn’t have said what you did in your
message unless you needed me. Mr. Mabie spotted me the instant I got down
from the car. But, George, old chap, I don’t think much of your
conveyances up this neck of America.”

“We rode out on a lumber wagon,” explained Charlie.

“Yes, and every joint in my body was properly shaken loose.”

Miss Elting at this juncture called George aside and suggested that
arrangements be made for Mr. Disbrow to remain at the Meadow-Brook camp
that night on account of his lame ankle. George assented and sent two of
his fellows to the Tramp camp to fetch the tent they had set aside for
Disbrow.

The girls had hung upon the champion’s every word and gesture since his
arrival at the camp. But they had difficulty in making themselves believe
that this man was the much-heralded champion. Disbrow was thin, pale and
delicate looking. His movements were slow and deliberate and he was what
Jane characterized as “fussy.” But he was Disbrow, the champion tennis
player. There could be no doubt as to that. George knew. Yet it did seem
almost impossible.

Having finished his supper, Disbrow, with the aid of his crutch, hobbled
about pluckily, testing the strength of the strained ankle. They
suggested that he stop. He said the ankle would be lame just so long as
it was babied, that he proposed to throw away his crutch on the following
day.

“Now, old chap, tell me what it is all about?” urged the champion after
having resumed his seat at the end of the table. “Charlie told me
something of what you wanted of me, but he was too excited to be clear
about it. It is some sort of a match game of tennis that you young ladies
are wanting to take part in, I understand.”

“The coast championship,” George informed him.

“And the young ladies, they are good players?” questioned the tennis
champion.

“We practically never touched a racquet until within a few days ago,”
said Harriet.

“Hm-m-m-m! How are they playing, George?”

“As badly as possible!” answered the captain with emphasis, whereat there
was a shout of laughter from the girls.

“Mr. Baker has described it correctly,” added Harriet. “Please let me
explain the situation. Our young friends, the Tramp Club, as they call
themselves, entered the Meadow-Brook Girls in the Atlantic Coast Tennis
Tournament, supposing, of course, that we played, and played well. None
of us play tennis, but for the sake of showing them that we appreciated
their efforts, we promised to go in and do the best we could. Understand,
Mr. Disbrow, they had bought a net, a complete outfit and carried it up
here in order that we might have opportunity to practice. We have been
doing so under Captain Baker’s instruction, but I fear we have not played
in a manner to encourage him very much. The captain said you could whip
us into shape if any one could do so. He was overjoyed when he saw in a
newspaper a notice of your arrival in this country. I think you know the
rest. We were very unhappy when we learned of your accident. I think that
is all.”

“Except to express our appreciation of your kindness in coming here,
crippled as you are,” added the guardian.

“It is nothing, Miss Elting. I would do a lot more for George, and now
that I have met you and your young ladies, I thank him for sending for
me. How many of you are there, Miss Elting?”

“There are five young women and myself.”

“And how many will play?”

“Four, I believe. Miss Brown doesn’t care to play.”

“No, Buthter ith—” began Tommy, casting a tantalizing look at Margery.

Harriet nudged Tommy to be silent. The girls were trying their best to
keep from laughing at the little lisping girl’s attempted fling at
Margery, whose face had grown very red.

“And when is this tournament to take place?” questioned the Englishman.

“A little less than five weeks from now,” answered George.

Disbrow uttered a low whistle under his breath.

“You—you expect to win something?”

“Of course we do,” replied Harriet Burrell promptly. “Otherwise we should
not have decided to play.”

Disbrow regarded her shrewdly.

“You at least have the proper spirit. Other things being equal, you ought
to win. But you must remember that tennis is not a game to be learned in
a day. Years ordinarily are required to make the expert player. I am not
going to say that I think you have no chance. I can not say until I have
seen you play. To-morrow we shall see what you can do. For my part, I
shall do my best for you. It follows that I am able to coach to the best
advantage, but first of all you must be tennis players by instinct. Even
were you fair players, you would have a task before you to prepare
yourself for a tournament within the short time left. George, will this
tournament call out any high-class material?”

“Herrington says it will, especially the Scott Sisters from Portsmouth,
who are said to be near the professional class. I don’t know of my own
knowledge how well they play.”

“Hm-m-m. Not a very encouraging outlook, is it, young ladies?”

“I haven’t had any reason to change my mind as to the result,” remarked
Harriet.

“You mean you expect to win?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That state of mind should go a long way toward the success of your club.
All of you feel the same way?”

“We always agree with Harriet,” answered Hazel, with an emphatic nod.

“A jolly good idea,” muttered the Englishman, regarding each girl with a
steady gaze of keen inquiry. He was noting their movements, their poise,
with the eyes of an expert. This brief study encouraged P. Earlington
Disbrow. He decided that the Meadow-Brook Girls were at least good
material, but as for fitting themselves to play in a tournament at such
short notice, he was doubtful, and they saw that he was. This did not
change the point of view of the Meadow-Brook Girls in the least, but it
added to the gloom of Captain Baker.

“Another matter that I wish to mention,” said Miss Elting. “We cannot
give you any comforts up here in the woods. Perhaps you would prefer to
have us move into town, and——”

“By no means,” replied the guest. “We should have a crowd at our heels
all the time. I don’t mind saying that I purpose showing you some things
about tennis that I would be chary of other persons knowing. These things
are what a merchant would characterize as his stock in trade. I’d be a
proper idiot to give them away to others, wouldn’t I, now?”

They agreed that he would.

“You may depend upon our discretion,” the guardian assured him.

“I know that. It is unnecessary to tell me. Do I have far to go to get to
your camp, George?”

“You are to remain here to-night, Mr. Disbrow,” replied the guardian.
“Two of the boys have gone to their camp to bring a tent for you. We
shall make you as comfortable as possible, but it will not be exactly
home comforts, you know.”

“I am used to roughing it. I’ve played tennis pretty much all over the
world and have had to put up with some pretty rough quarters. I’m jolly
well satisfied with a tent and a pair of clean blankets. This supper, let
me tell you, I enjoyed more than anything I’ve had since I left England.
I shall have to be careful or I’ll put on too much flesh in the two or
three weeks I am up here. By the way, what is the physical condition of
the young ladies, Miss Elting!”

“I do not see how it could be better,” answered the guardian. “They
practically live out-of-doors a good part of the year. I should say that
their endurance is as great as it is possible to find in a woman, if that
is what you mean.”

He nodded reflectively.

“I judged as much from the little I have seen of them. I trust you to see
to it that they do not overdo nor ‘go stale’ before the date set for the
match. An ambitious person is quite likely to try to do too much. He pays
for it bitterly in many cases. But we shall see after a day or so.
To-morrow morning I wish to see the young ladies play. You naturally will
play in doubles at the tournament, so that is the way I shall have you
play to-morrow. Until then I can say nothing definite as to what we shall
do. How are their strokes, George?”

“Awkward,” answered the captain frankly.

“That is the fault of their teacher. You haven’t taught them properly.”

“I did the best I could,” replied George bitterly, “but it did not seem
to me to be of much use. I am no tennis sharp, anyway.”

“I’ll not have you depreciating yourself that way, Captain,” declared
Miss Elting warmly. “He has done nobly by us,” she added to Mr. Disbrow.

“Yes, it isn’t his fault that we have made so little progress,” agreed
Harriet.

“What about the court?” inquired the young Englishman.

“As good as I could make. I’ve played on worse ones,” answered the
captain.

“We shall have to look into that, too. It’s an important factor, and
conditions on the practice court must be as near a duplicate of those on
which the tournament is to be played as possible. Will they be grass or
dirt courts?”

“Dirt, so Herrington said. This one is dirt also.”

“Well, I think when that tent is ready I will retire. How about it,
Brother George?”

“It is up. The fellows are making your bed now.”

“How thoughtless in me! I shall attend to that myself,” said the
guardian, rising hurriedly and going to the tent that the boys had set up
some little distance from the Meadow-Brook camp. Shortly after that Mr.
Disbrow retired to his tent. The boys saw him safely stowed there, then
left for their own camp.

The next day was to be a day of activity, a day of hopes and
disappointments which were destined to have an important bearing on the
outcome of their plans.




                              CHAPTER XIII
                        IN THE HANDS OF A MASTER


The Englishman was out early the next morning. The girls found him
hobbling about with a stick, he having cast his crutch aside. It was
plain that he was a very resolute young man, who intended to begin his
task with a will.

The Tramp Boys came over shortly after Disbrow had finished his breakfast
with the Meadow-Brook Girls.

“Well, what’s the first thing on the program, P. E.?” questioned George.

“The first thing is to make the court usable. At present it is hopeless.
If you will have your boys get to work on it, we may be able to have a
try-out some time this afternoon. Got anything to mark the lines with!”

“No, I forgot the chalk.”

“Any flour in the camp?”

Miss Elting said there was. Disbrow said that when the court had been
leveled off he would mark out the side lines and base lines with the
flour, after which the girls would play a game for him. All that forenoon
the boys worked at their task, and by luncheon time had done all the
champion had suggested. The court, he said, was still in almost
impossible shape, but that it was the best that could be had at that
moment.

The hour following the luncheon was spent in conversation, after which
Disbrow told the young women to go on the court and play out a set. At
first they were nervous with the champion watching them, but after the
first two games of the set their confidence returned, their nervousness
disappeared and they went at their work with a vim. George chewed his hat
brim nervously as they floundered about the court, but the face of the
Englishman was impassive. He watched keenly, making no comment, but
storing up data in his mind to be used later on when he should have
really begun his instruction. Tommy and Harriet were playing together
against Hazel and Jane, which arrangement the champion changed in the
last half of the set.

The set came to an end suddenly through a fault of Jane’s, and the girls,
flushed and excited, turned to their new instructor.

“Are we to play another game?” questioned Harriet.

“No.”

“What do you think of them?” asked George in a hesitating voice.

“Too early to think, old chap. Better reserve the thinking for another
time. There is work to be done now. I wonder if I should break my neck if
I were to play a game?”

“Better not try it,” answered the captain.

“Yes, I will. I’ll play against you and—who is your best player?”

“Charlie is.”

“Then take your places. We won’t toss for sides. There isn’t any choice
so far as I can see. You will excuse me if I use my stick to assist me. I
will permit your side to serve. That will give you the advantage at the
beginning. I probably shall make an exhibition of myself. What I want you
young ladies to observe is my method of delivery. My position will be
nothing to be proud of, playing on one leg, as I shall have to.”

“I fear it will not be prudent for you to try,” said Miss Elting, with a
shake of her head.

“I must get myself into shape in order to coach the Meadow-Brook team
properly. Now that I have started, I shall go through with it. How could
I do otherwise after being made acquainted with the pluck of your young
charges! Let it come, old chappie.”

George served the ball. Disbrow hopped on one leg, making a leap half-way
across the court, scooping up the ball after its first bound, as the
rules require. It slipped past George and Charlie really before they
realized that it was on the way.

“Love, fifteen,” sang out the Englishman. “You will have to do better
than that, my lads, or it wouldn’t do for you to try to play opposite the
young ladies. Love, thirty. Why, what ails you, boys? You aren’t playing
tennis, you are merely watching your opponent play.”

The Englishman was hopping from one side of the court to the other, in
the air, it seemed, fully as much as he was on the ground. Disbrow out of
a court and Disbrow in a court were two wholly different personalities.
The Meadow-Brook Girls began to understand why he was a champion. They
revised their earlier opinions about his being delicate and slow. His
movements when occasion required were lightning-like in their rapidity,
then with a languid movement of his racquet he would drop the ball just
over the net, many feet from where Charlie and Captain George were
waiting to receive it. Wherever they were not, there went the tennis
ball. The Englishman outplayed them at every point.

The girls became so excited over the game that they simply could not keep
still. They applauded till their hands stung and smarted, they shouted
until their voices grew husky. They had never seen the like of this, and
now that they had begun to understand the game of tennis, they were able
to appreciate many of the fine plays. It was the grace and ease of the
player at all times that aroused their wonder. He appeared to work
without the slightest effort, even with the handicap of a foot that would
not bear his weight. The tennis ball, too, seemed endowed with reasoning
powers, it seemed to change its course after leaving the racquet of the
server when an opponent got in the way. This they could not understand,
neither could the other spectators, for they had never seen anything like
it in all their experience.

“Game!” announced the Englishman. “Keep right on playing. We will go
through the set. See to it that you don’t loaf. Play tennis; don’t stand
there and watch me serve. Show the young ladies that you at least know
how to play the game.”

George flushed.

“Of course I know how. They know that without my showing them. But what
can you expect a couple of amateurs to do against the champion of all
England and half the United States of America? Charlie, watch yourself,”
he added in a whisper. “We’ve got to win at least one game of the set
from P. E. for the sake of our reputation with the girls.”

“We’ll be a heap better players than we are now before we win anything
from him. There’s something about his serving that I can’t understand,
some magic that we don’t know about.”

“The magic of skill, that’s all, Charlie. Play.”

The ball came back as before. This set told nearly the same story as the
first, Disbrow winning all the points up to the last game of the set. The
first game had been a _love game_, meaning that Disbrow had won all the
points. On the fifth game of the second set, George made a point on his
opponent because Disbrow had missed his footing on the soft ground of the
court.

The girls were delighted. Somehow they did not like the idea of seeing
the Tramp Boys wholly defeated, though they knew well that the point
would not have been scored for the boys, had the champion been playing on
a hard court.

That was the last and only point won by George and Charlie in that set.
In the last game of the set, Disbrow, apparently having become warmed up,
threw himself into the work with utter abandon, this time playing faster
than he had at any time before that. His right arm, the sleeve rolled
nearly to the shoulder, grew rosy from the rapid exercise, his ordinarily
pale face showed a delicate flush and his eyes sparkled with excitement,
even though his opponents were not worthy of the name.

From that time on followed the most wonderful exhibition of tennis
playing that any person present had ever seen. And further, hopping on
one foot was not the only remarkable thing about Disbrow’s playing.

“He hopth jutht like a jack rabbit,” cried Tommy. “I believe I could do
that, too. Harriet, that ith the trouble with our playing—we don’t hop.
I’ll know what to do the next time we play tennith. Then I’ll thurely
win.”

“You will hop on your head if you try it,” warned Sam.

The game came to a close, to the regret of all except the players opposed
to the champion. As for them, they had had enough of it. They were not
anxious to play another game.

Excitement ran high. The girls wanted to shout with all their lung power.
Tommy did, giving unrestrained vent to her emotions. The camp of the
Meadow-Brook Girls was vibrant with enthusiasm. They were eager to be at
a game of their own.

“I can hardly hold myself, I am so eager to play,” declared Harriet, eyes
and cheeks glowing.

“Now, give heed to what I say,” requested Disbrow, with a shake of the
head. “I will first teach you the strokes. There are five strokes on
which are built the whole structure of modern tennis playing, viz., the
service stroke, the horizontal ground stroke, the volley, the half-volley
and the lob. There are, of course, variations of these, such as the
drop-stroke, the side-stroke and the cut—or chop—all of which you will
take up in their regular order, learning one thoroughly, then going on to
the next. Two of you take your places in the court and practise the
service.”

Harriet and Tommy did so, Jane and Hazel being told to listen and observe
closely, as their turn would follow.

“The service—that is, putting the ball into play—should be an overhand
delivery, almost straight, with a slight cut to the right to keep the
ball from sailing in the air,” continued Disbrow. “Reach up high, rising
on the left toe, bringing the ball sharply down into the opponent’s
court. Now we shall practise the service for a time until your wrists
grow tired. And right here let me suggest that when the racquet is not in
action it is a good idea to rest it across the left hand, which relieves
the right wrist wonderfully. Boys, please get into the other court and
return the balls. We shan’t have time to chase them.”

Harriet and Tommy made their first service, but Harriet put so much force
into the ball that it rolled out of the other court.

“Too much speed, Miss Burrell. Try that again. There, that is much
better. Now, Miss Thompson.” She, too, did better this time.

Hazel and Jane were next given a chance. While they were learning the
tricks and twists of the service, Harriet and Tommy were practising it by
themselves just beyond the court, Disbrow now and then offering a
criticism or a suggestion.

Nearly two hours were spent on the service stroke alone. Then, after a
brief rest, they took up the half-volley, which Disbrow explained was the
art of trapping the ball with the racquet, blocking it—not striking
it—just as it rises from the ground. The girls worked faithfully all that
forenoon, declining to halt for any long period of rest until their
instructor finally insisted upon it. How much progress they had made they
could only guess, for Mr. Disbrow did not commit himself. During the
luncheon, of course, the talk was on tennis. The very air was charged
with tennis. The Meadow-Brook Girls, the Tramp Club, the guardian and the
English champion breathed in the atmosphere of the game as they did the
fragrant air of the pines that surrounded the clearing where the court
had been laid.

Now that he was not playing, Mr. Disbrow walked with a more noticeable
limp than before. He denied, however, that his two sets on the court had
had anything to do with this. He said inactivity, sitting about and doing
nothing, was responsible for the stiffness of the muscles of the injured
ankle.

After luncheon the girls were eager to get at their practice again, but
the instructor said they must digest their food first. In the meantime he
gave them some detailed instruction regarding the importance of holding
the racquet correctly.

“One principal reason why you appear to play so awkwardly is that you do
not know how to hold your racquets,” he said. “Before coming to that I am
going to give you three things to store away in your minds and think of
whenever you are not thinking of anything else. That’s an Irish bull,
isn’t it?” he smiled.

“An Englishman couldn’t make one,” retorted Jane quickly.

“The three things are _how_ to hit the ball, _where_ to hit the ball and
_when_ to hit the ball. Just think that over, young ladies. To return to
the best way of holding the racquet; remember that the grasp on it should
always allow the greatest possible freedom for the muscles of the wrist.
Always avoid a cramped position. The full length of the handle should
always be used, the end of the handle resting against the fleshy part of
the palm. That isn’t difficult to remember, is it?”

Each girl replied by adjusting her racquet to the right hand.

“For forehand play the grip of the hand should be along the handle with
the first finger separated from the others and extended an inch or two
farther along the racquet. The finger nails when at rest on the handle
should face the direction the ball is to go. In making the backhand
stroke, which you will learn this afternoon, the fingers should be closer
together and the thumb extended out along the handle behind the racquet.
The second or middle knuckles should face in the direction the ball is to
be driven. I think that will be enough lecture for the present. Do you
all thoroughly understand?”

“I think we do,” answered Harriet. “I would suggest that we go through
the forehand and backhand strokes to make certain that we are right.”

Disbrow nodded his approval. Most of the girls hit it the first time, all
on the second trial.

“Now we will practise the various strokes, first going over what we
learned this morning.”

The practice for the rest of the day was real work. There was no
inspiration in it, though the Meadow-Brook spirit was strong upon the
four girls, and not for a moment did they permit themselves to feel the
monotony that the Tramp Boys long since had found. The girls devoted
themselves painstakingly to every stroke taught them. The new instruction
meant the undoing of much that they had already learned, but that was to
be expected. The girls were not to be disturbed by it.

Late in the afternoon they asked permission to play a game, but the
Englishman declined to allow it.

“You may not play a game even to-morrow,” he added. “It will depend upon
the progress you make for the rest of the day and to-morrow forenoon.”

He was so patient and gentle with them that the girls, knowing what a
trial they must be, found themselves greatly drawn to their instructor.

There seemed to be little difference in the progress of the girls, except
in the case of Tommy. Her companions were amazed at her work. One would
not have thought it of Tommy Thompson. She was as pleased over her
success and as enthusiastic as any of her companions. Added to this was a
full measure of the Meadow-Brook “do or die” spirit that always had
characterized this little organization of wide-awake girls.

After supper they all sat and talked around the campfire, before which
the Englishman comfortably stretched himself, after having asked
permission to do so. Later on in the evening the boys escorted him to his
tent. On the morrow they were to move him over to their own camp, his
ankle now being strong enough to enable him to walk about with some
degree of comfort.

“Well, what do you think about them?” was Captain George’s eager question
when they had entered the Englishman’s tent that night.

“A fine lot of young women,” answered Disbrow enthusiastically.

“I know all about that. But what about this tournament—what are the
prospects, do you think?”

“Pretty early to answer that question, isn’t it?”

“You have come to some conclusion about it, I know.”

“Miss Burrell has the making of a great tennis player,” answered the
champion.

“Just what I said,” cried George enthusiastically. “I knew I’d picked a
winner.”

“She has a wise little head on her shoulders, George. She uses it, too.
It is working all the time, which is a most necessary quality in a tennis
player. I know of no sport that requires more of this quality.”

“Then you think the girls have a chance to win out in the tournament! I
can’t tell you how glad I am to have you say that. It repays me for a lot
of stewing, old man.”

“Not so fast, old chappie. I haven’t said that at all. On the contrary, I
do not consider that they have the slightest chance of winning in the
doubles at your tournament if, as you say, there are several clever teams
entered. How could you expect it? They may stay in for a few sets just
because of that wonderful pluck and spirit. But the finals”—the
Englishman shook his head. “Hopeless, George. You might as well make up
your mind to that.”

George Baker groaned dismally. Then he gripped his friend’s arm.

“You won’t tell them that, P. E.? Please don’t tell them that. It would
so discourage them that they would quit instantly.”

“You don’t know your friends, I see,” answered Disbrow with a short
laugh. “They would laugh at me were I to make such an announcement, and
tell me very quietly and confidently that they were going to enter the
tournament and were going to win. What are you going to do with such
spirit as that? I take off my hat to it. Whatever P. Earlington Disbrow
can do for those plucky young women he is going to do, and don’t forget
it, Captain George Baker!”




                              CHAPTER XIV
                      A STEAM ROLLER TO THE RESCUE


The tired girls were awakened by a terrific racket. Groanings, clankings
and an unfamiliar hiss greeted their ears. They opened their eyes to find
that the day had dawned. But what meant this terrible uproar? A shrill,
piercing whistle split the calm of the morning.

“Thave me! A train of carth ith coming through the woodth,” cried Tommy.
“Oh, thtop them! They’ll run over the tennith court. Thave me!”

Harriet, who had sprung out of bed ahead of her companions, ran to the
tent-opening and peered out. Her eyes grew large as she gazed. What she
saw was a huge steam roller, enveloped in a cloud of steam. The roller
was bumping over the uneven ground, jerking from side to side and making
frantic efforts to escape from the rough trail over which the guiding
hand of the engineer was directing it.

“For mercy’s sake, what does it mean?” gasped Harriet.

“It evidently is a mistake,” replied Miss Elting. “He has missed his way.
Isn’t that man from Meadow-Brook?”

“Yes, he is. But I do not know him. I have seen him driving his steam
roller through the streets. He is employed on the improved roads, I
believe.”

“He’s coming right this way. He will run down the tent,” cried Margery.

The engineer made a detour at this stage, skirting the tennis court, then
once more heading down toward the tent. He continued on his uneven way
until right opposite the Meadow-Brook tent and but a few yards distant
from it, when he shut off and stopped. Instantly a great burst of
escaping steam roared from the safety valve, enveloping the roller in
such a cloud that for the moment it was entirely obscured. The furnace
door opened with a clank. When a gentle breeze blew the steam across the
court toward the woods the girls saw the engineer lighting his pipe. This
accomplished, he grasped the whistle lever, pulled the valve wide open
and held it there, filling the air with an ear-splitting noise that
lasted for a full minute and was deafening to say the least.

The girls were peering out through the narrow slit at the opening of
their tent, but immediately on the starting of the whistle they poked
their fingers in their ears to shut out the awful sound.

“Stop it!” yelled Crazy Jane. But the whistle drowned the sound of her
voice, the latter being barely heard by her companions in the tent.

About this time they discovered P. Earlington Disbrow hopping from his
tent with the aid of his stick. He had hastily drawn on his clothes, his
hair was standing up in an unkempt shock. He approached the steam roller
in a series of leaps and bounds, aided by his stick. The engineer,
observing him, finally decided to let go of the whistle lever.

“Here, you bally driver, what do you mean by waking civilized people up
by that din?” he demanded angrily.

“Isn’t this the place?” questioned the engineer innocently.

“Yes, it is the place, but blowing all the steam out of your boiler
wasn’t a part of the job for which you were engaged. Either stop that
racket or pull off where we won’t hear you. It’s five o’clock in the
morning.”

“I got to get through and go back on a road job.”

“You will be finished before you start if you don’t watch out. Pull away
from there. There are ladies in that tent. I don’t flatter myself that
they are asleep. If this were a cemetery nobody would be asleep now,
after your salutation to the dawn. Pull out, I tell you, and give them a
chance.”

The engineer jerked the throttle open and started his lumbering craft
ahead without a word of reply to the irate Englishman, who was regarding
him with frowning eyes. The engineer drove his engine to the edge of the
clearing, where once more the steam began to blow off, but he mercifully
refrained from pulling the whistle. After the roller had come to a halt
again, Disbrow hopped back to his own tent, where he took his time about
making his morning toilet.

In the meantime the girls were gazing at each other wonderingly.

“What does it mean?” questioned the guardian.

“I do not know,” replied Harriet. “You heard Mr. Disbrow admit that the
man had made no mistake in coming here. But what need have we for a steam
roller unless it be to run over us, which perhaps might be a good thing
after all,” she added with a laugh.

“Dress yourselves, girls,” ordered Miss Elting. “We have overslept as it
is. Perhaps it is just as well that the steam roller woke us up.”

“I think I prefer another kind of alarm clock,” chuckled Harriet. “This
one is too violent and nerve-racking.”

Mr. Disbrow was out a second time before the girls had made ready for
their first appearance. He walked over and held a brief conversation with
the driver of the roller, after which he sat down by his own tent to
await the coming of the girls, who, he felt sure, would soon be out.

They were. They shouted a cheery good morning to their guest, who
thereupon hobbled over to them, looking somewhat embarrassed.

“To whom are we indebted for the steam roller?” asked the guardian
lightly.

“I owe you an apology, ladies. When I sent word to the man to come here,
I did not for a moment imagine he would find it advisable to drive his
hideous vehicle into camp before breakfast. I have expressed as much to
him, though in somewhat less temperate language,” added Disbrow with a
faint smile.

“The apology is accepted, sir,” answered Harriet gravely. “But we are
still in the dark as to the reason for this—this visitation?”

“Ah, yes. I took it upon myself. You see, I need some practice, my late
accident making it necessary that I, too, begin playing. No better
opportunity will present itself. However, the court being in such
wretched shape I dare not attempt any work upon it. It was for that
reason that I had the boys send to town for a steam roller.”

“To pack down the court! Oh, that is it,” said Harriet brightly. “How can
we thank you?”

“No necessity, Miss Burrell. I tell you it was principally in my own
behalf that I ordered the roller. I didn’t order the whistle. That is
thrown in gratis. When the boys get here we will have the net taken down
so that the man can begin his work of rolling the court.”

“No need to wait for the boys. Come on, girls,” cried Harriet.

They ran to the court and, pulling up the stakes, laid the net flat,
after which they rolled it carefully. The net was then removed and laid
beside their tent, racquets and stakes were gathered up and stowed in the
same place. It was all done with the usual snap of the Meadow-Brook
Girls.

“You American girls certainly have the initiative,” declared Disbrow
approvingly. “You aren’t afraid to do things. Now, if you were English,
you would sit about and look languid, you would wait until the men came
to do the work for you. Not so the American girl. When there is a thing
to be done she does it. That is all there is to it. I’ll tell that driver
to start in. I believe he has gone to sleep.”

“Thhall I throw a thtone at him?” questioned Tommy.

“By no means,” answered the guardian severely. “Run over and tell him we
are ready for him.”

“No, no! Leave that for me,” protested Disbrow. But Harriet was already
running toward the roller. She awakened the driver, telling him he might
begin work at once. He delayed a long time before starting, first feeding
more coal into the fire box and oiling the rheumatic joints of the
machine before starting. While Mr. Disbrow was showing the driver how the
court was to be rolled, the girls were hurriedly preparing breakfast. Had
they not been enthusiastic before, they surely would be now that their
instructor had gone to all this pains and expense in their behalf. They
well knew that it was done wholly on their own account, despite his
explanations to the contrary.

Captain George and his party arrived after the girls had finished their
breakfast and the man was still clanking back and forth over the court,
which was being slowly packed down into a firm surface that shone under
the polish put on by the heavy roller.

“You are up early this morning,” remarked Disbrow, “but we have finished
our breakfast. You will have to wait until luncheon time.”

“Had our breakfast, thank you,” answered Sam. “What time did the
automobile get here?”

“That got here before breakfatht, too,” answered Tommy. “You mutht have
thlept pretty thoundly not to have heard it.”

“We did hear it. We heard the whistle,” replied George. “Fine time of day
to get here. Who cleared the court?”

“The young ladies,” answered Disbrow, with a reproving glance at the
Tramp Boys.

“Too bad we all had sprained ankles,” retorted Sam mischievously, whereat
a smile flitted over the pale face of P. Earlington Disbrow.

By eight o’clock Disbrow, after walking over the court and poking it with
his stick, pronounced it satisfactory. He paid the driver of the outfit
and dismissed him. The boys were directed to place the net, while the
instructor looked on critically. When it came to measuring the court, he
insisted on doing this himself.

“It is of vital importance that one practise under the identical
conditions that will prevail in the match game. George, set up stakes and
stretch a string so that all our lines may be true.”

When the court was completed, about an hour later, the campers gazed upon
it delightedly.

“Oh, this is a real court!” cried Harriet with glowing eyes.

“Yes. And now you shall do some real playing. We shall have our strokes
first, then we shall see you put them into practice in a real game. I’ll
be playing myself if I look at that handsome court any longer.”

The day’s work was welcomed with enthusiasm by the Meadow-Brook team.
Three sets were played before luncheon time, and rather spirited games
they were. The girls with each succeeding game grew more and more
proficient as the different strokes became more mechanical to them, and
when a halt was called for the noon meal P. Earlington Disbrow showed
real enthusiasm.

“Fine, fine!” he exclaimed, smiling broadly.

“Then you think we thall win the tournament?” questioned Tommy.

“My dear Miss Thompson, we are not cup-winners yet; we are still in the
novice class. We hope to advance a step a day until we get into one of
the higher classes.”

A long rest was taken after luncheon, and then the afternoon was a
repetition of the morning with work made easy by the enthusiasm and the
painstaking effort of the Meadow-Brook Girls. It had been the first
really successful day since they began their practice.

“One point in your favor,” declared Disbrow as he was leaving the
Meadow-Brook camp that night, “is your wonderful endurance. I believe in
a long race you would wear out a steam engine. Add skill to that quality
of endurance and you will be heard from one of these days on the tennis
court.”

With this cheering word still ringing in their ears the Meadow-Brook
Girls tumbled into bed and went to sleep almost as soon as they had drawn
their blankets under their chins.




                               CHAPTER XV
                    WOULD-BE CUP WINNERS BREAK CAMP


“Well, P. E., what do you think now?” asked Captain Baker on the first
opportunity.

“I think, as I did when you asked me that question some time ago, that
the Meadow-Brook team will attract considerable attention by their
playing in the Coast Tournament. They may even get a place well up in the
list, but so far as winning any of the prizes, I do not believe they are
far enough advanced for that. Their progress, during the four weeks we
have been at work, is nothing less than marvelous. Sometimes I almost
believe they will be fit for a championship match. Then I discover that
I’ve been carried away by that confounded Meadow-Brook enthusiasm. It’s
as catching as the plague, old chap.”

“Well, we’re all obliged to you for what you’ve done, P. E.”

“My boy, it isn’t Earlington Disbrow who has done it; it is the young
women themselves. You can’t make tennis players out of unavailable
material. About all I have done, besides giving them some technical
points, has been to keep them at work. They would have done that just the
same had I been on the other side of the ocean. At times they show
excellent form; then again they fall off without any reason that I am
able to discover. In two or three years from now we’ll hear from the
Meadow-Brook Girls, but I should say it would take all that time to make
champions of them, in spite of their unshaken determination to win out.”

“How are you going to pair them off when we get to the tournament?” The
Englishman had announced his intention of witnessing all the matches at
Newtown.

“That I have not fully decided. I may do it in a way that you won’t
approve,” smiled Disbrow.

“You are the doctor, we are the patients,” nodded George. “Well, at any
rate, it has been worth the price of admission to have you up here with
us, and I shall never forget what you’ve done for us, and for me
especially.”

“Chop it, old chap! You jolly well know the shoe is on the other foot.
Besides, I’ve had some much needed practice on my own account. I am fit
as a fiddle now, ready to take on any matches that may be arranged for
me. This has been a great vacation for me.” The speaker expanded his
chest, inhaling deeply of the air that was heavy with the odor of the
pines.

“Were I to remain up here all summer I think I might gain something of
the endurance that those young women possess. It’s wonderful, as I have
said before.”

Four weeks had elapsed since the arrival of P. Earlington Disbrow. During
that time real work had been done in the camp of the Meadow-Brook Girls.
They had practised early and late, and when not actually at practice were
listening to words of wisdom, born of the experience of a world champion.
Now they possessed a theoretical knowledge of the game that was barely
second to that of Disbrow himself. They had learned to serve drop curves,
over-head curves, to place the tennis ball almost with the accuracy of
rifle fire; they had with varying degrees of success become able to
accomplish the difficult _twist service_, so puzzling to the novice, much
as would be the well-known curves of the baseball player to one who did
not understand them; their foot work had improved, they had been taught
to conserve their energies, to leap from the toes in springing to meet a
ball—in fact, had been coached in all the little delicate arts of the
game that had already made their instructor famous wherever tennis was
played.

And now the period of their work in camp had come to an end. Only five
days remained before the opening of the tournament at Newtown, where they
would either win recognition or suffer humiliating defeat. Harriet still
persisted in her belief in herself and her companions. Disbrow did not
seek to shake that confidence, being well aware that without it they had
better remain out of the contest entirely.

It had been planned that he was to meet them at Newtown three days hence.
He wished them to play a set over each of the courts, but they were not
to do anything like the hard work they had been doing on the court in the
pine woods, nor were they to touch a racquet during the days between then
and the time they reported at Newtown. This had been the champion’s
strictest injunction to them.

The girls were to go home to arrange their clothing. After no little
discussion it had been decided that they were to wear their regular Camp
Girl uniforms, minus the beads. These costumes, being especially arranged
for freedom of muscular play and comfort, were ideal for the purpose,
except that they were of blue serge, while all the other players would be
dressed in white. This would mean that the figures of the Meadow-Brook
Girls would stand out from all the rest, which might prove a disadvantage
when standing before the nets. Harriet understood this well, but she had
been determined on the Camp Girl uniform for reasons of her own, which
she did not confide to her companions nor to the Tramp Boys.

Jane had been to town and brought her automobile. The camp had been
struck by the boys and packed ready for the wagon that was coming from
town to take them home. The girls and Mr. Disbrow were to return in
Jane’s car, he to go on to Boston that evening. They were holding their
last meeting in the old camping place, which, now that they were about to
leave, seemed dearer than ever to them. None of that little party would
ever forget the weeks spent in that clearing in the pine woods. The
summer vacation that had opened so tamely bade fair to close in a giddy
whirl of excitement. It had already been full to overflowing with
activity and accomplishment.

“Remember, you are to follow out my directions regarding the care of
yourselves between now and the time I see you again, young ladies,”
reminded Mr. Disbrow.

“I shall be on hand early and look over the practice of the other
contestants. I may be able to offer you some suggestions as to what to do
or what not to do after I have seen some of the other contestants in
action. As for my share in your training, it will be well for you to
forget that. From now on you are to be placed upon your own
responsibility.”

“You are asking an impossibility,” replied Harriet. “Whatever may follow,
we owe you a debt of gratitude that nothing can ever repay, both you and
the boys.”

“Go in and win. That will be payment enough,” answered Mr. Disbrow with a
light laugh.

“That is what we are going to do,” replied Harriet earnestly.

He did not contradict her. He knew in his own mind that the Meadow-Brook
team could not carry off the cup. The most that could be hoped for was
one of the smaller prizes. If they stood up under the grilling of the
first few games, they would have done remarkably well. He should call
that achievement worth while, let alone winning the cup.

About the middle of the forenoon the wagon came up from town and the boys
began loading the equipment, after which they were to take up their own
camp. The tennis racquets the girls had kept with them. They had chosen
their racquets after trying out all weights, Harriet finally choosing a
fourteen-ounce racquet, an unusually heavy weight for a woman player. Mr.
Disbrow had advised against this heavy weight, but after observing her
work with this and then with a lighter one approved her choice. Harriet,
though slight, was very strong, and under the practice on the court her
wrists had become as pliant as steel.

They placed their smaller belongings in the car and got in, then, with
shouts of good-bye to the boys and to the camp, turned their faces
homeward.

The news had traveled abroad in Meadow-Brook that the Meadow-Brook Girls
were to take part in the Coast Tournament, which entry caused no little
interest. It had not been known that the girls played tennis at all. Some
little argument had been necessary to gain the permission of the girls’
parents, but Miss Elting had taken the matter in hand, and in the end won
their consent. Not only this, but the parents were arranging to go to
Newtown to see the tournament.

The plans of the party embraced some unusual features. They were to make
camp and live in tents, cooking their own food, living their regular
outdoor life just the same as if they were encamped in the woods. Mr.
Disbrow approved of this. Any change in their method of living might
affect them adversely, and the girls were thankful for his approval.

That afternoon, after the girls had taken their instructor to each of
their homes and introduced him to their parents, Disbrow boarded a train
for Boston. He had skilfully evaded the direct questions of the parents
as to what chances the girls had to win. Tommy’s father was delighted at
the opportunity presented to her. Whether or not she won anything, it
would be of great benefit to his little daughter, who, from a delicate
girl, had developed into a muscular young woman.

True to their promise, the girls did no practising, though in her room at
home, using the wall to receive the ball under her light touches, Harriet
studied out problems of service. It was not practice, according to her
reasoning; it was study. But most of her time was occupied in sewing and
in performing her regular duties about the house, which she persisted in
doing despite her mother’s protestations.

In the meantime the Tramp Boys had moved, bag and baggage, to Newtown.
They not only had taken their own equipment, but that of the Meadow-Brook
Girls as well. George, after consultation with Mr. Herrington, would
decide on a site for the camp, which, owing to his acquaintance with the
manager of the tournament, would be almost any site the captain chose.
George was very fortunate in his friends, and he never hesitated to use
them, being fully as ready and willing to be used himself whenever he
could be of service. Then, again, in the present instance he felt a
proprietary interest beyond the ordinary one of friendship. It was his
team, as he chose to call it. He had made the entry, he would be
responsible for the Meadow-Brook Girls’ appearance on the courts in the
tournament. He had no great hopes now of their winning the cup, but he
did believe the Meadow-Brook pluck and endurance would land them in a
position some little distance from the tail-end of the procession of
defeated contestants.

On the third morning the girls were up early, for they were to make an
early start for Newtown, nearly three hours’ drive by motor car from
their home town. As usual, they were to be accompanied by Miss Elting. No
other persons accompanied them. The parents were not to go on until the
day the tournament was to open. Their personal belongings and their
precious racquets were stowed in the car and in the luggage trunk that
was strapped on behind. It was a new car that Jane’s father had purchased
for her to take the place of the one lost in the ice pond on that fateful
night the year previous, when Harriet had narrowly escaped drowning.

Their departure was a quiet one. The car simply called at the homes of
the girls and picked them up as if they were just going out for a
pleasure drive. Tommy was the only nervous one in the party. Jane was
full of merry chatter, Buster grumbling, as usual, and Harriet silent and
thoughtful.

“Well, we’re off for the killing,” announced Jane, after having picked up
the last of her passengers and started on her way. “And that’s not saying
who it is that’s going to be killed,” she added with a chuckle.




                              CHAPTER XVI
                      IN CAMP ON THE BATTLE FIELD


Newtown, as already mentioned, was a summer resort. There were many fine
summer homes, excellent bathing, a limited number of hotels, and a large
population of fashionable summer visitors.

This year the tournament had excited more than ordinary interest because
arranged wholly for women. Not a man was to take part in any event,
though most of the teams were managed by relatives or family friends.
That it was to be a bitter fight was evident from the activity of the
preparations and the care with which the various minor officials had been
chosen. A very large attendance was promised and it was believed that
some future champions would be developed from the contest. This, as a
matter of fact, was the fond hope of Jack Herrington, the manager, who
had arranged this unusual tournament. One team from which much was
expected was a club of girls from the summer colony, fashionable young
women who had spent some years playing tennis.

This latter club consisted of four girls, just as did the Meadow-Brook
entry. One pair was entered as “The Fifth Avenues,” the other as “The
Riversides.” All their practising had been done on the private court
belonging to one of the girls, so that no one outside of the few on the
inside really knew what they were doing. Then there were other clubs from
various parts of the State. One team from Portsmouth, the Scott Sisters,
were known to be among the most expert tennis players in the ranks of the
younger players, and among those who claimed to know, it was believed
that the Scott Sisters were sure winners, provided the Fifth Avenues and
the Riversides did not carry off the cup. There was just enough mystery
in the entries of the latter to cause a great deal of speculation and
arouse keen interest.

Jane McCarthy and her passengers arrived in Newtown at eleven o’clock in
the forenoon of the day on which they had left home. Their arrival
attracted no attention, for the girls were unknown to the residents of
Newtown. Jane did not know where to go. Harriet called a halt and soon
learned where the office of the manager was. They repaired there at once,
only to find that he was out on the tennis field. They were directed how
to get there and drove away in search of it.

The tennis field was located on the outskirts of the town in an open
field. The nets were not yet in place, but men were working on the
courts, packing these down with hand rollers in some instances, in others
chalking out the lines, taking measurements, working on the covered stand
where seats were held at high prices for such spectators as wished to be
under cover and out of the direct rays of the sun. The girls were
directed to the manager. They waited while Harriet went over to speak to
him.

“So you are one of the Meadow-Brook Girls, eh?” he exclaimed, extending a
cordial hand. “George Baker has told me all about you. You look as though
you could give a good account of yourself.”

“Thank you.”

“Where are your friends?”

“In Miss McCarthy’s car yonder. We drove over from Meadow-Brook this
morning. Do you know whether Mr. Baker has made our camp or not?”

“He has,” answered Herrington, regarding the brown-faced young woman
keenly, pleased both with her manner and her apparently splendid
condition.

“Will you kindly direct me to it?”

“With pleasure, Miss Burrell. The camp is pitched just within the edge of
those trees at the far side of the field yonder,” pointing to a grove.
“You are the only contestants who, so far as I am aware, are camping out.
Baker tells me that you prefer it. I consider it an excellent idea,
provided the weather is good.”

“Oh, we do not mind bad weather. We are quite well used to all kinds,”
answered Harriet, her face lighting up in a happy smile. “Are any of the
other players here?”

“None of those from out of town so far as I know. Some of them may be
staying with friends. None has reported to me. I should like to meet your
companions if you have no objection.”

“They will be glad to know you,” answered Harriet, turning back toward
the car, with Mr. Herrington walking beside her. The manager was
presented to Miss Elting and each of the Meadow-Brook Girls in turn. He
said he knew Grace Thompson’s father quite well and that he also knew Mr.
McCarthy by reputation.

“I thought I was the only member of our family who had a reputation,”
blurted out Jane. “Between myself and the motor car pretty nearly every
one in our part of the State has met disaster. Is that our camp over
yonder?”

“Yes,” answered Herrington, with an amused smile.

“May I drive the car over?”

“You may. But please go around the outside edge of the field so as not to
cut up the turf near the courts. We have spent some weeks on these
grounds, and are naturally very careful of them.”

“It is a very beautiful field,” remarked the guardian admiringly. “I see
there are no nets up. When will you stretch them?”

“Any time you may wish after to-day. I suppose you have reference to
practice?”

“Yes.”

“All shall have opportunity to accustom themselves to the various courts,
for until the drawings I cannot say what teams will play on certain
courts. The singles are to be played off first. We are reserving the
doubles until the last because there is greater interest in these, and by
holding them until the last we shall hold the attendance as well. You see
there is a business side to this tournament, a side that is not wholly
unselfish.”

“Of course,” agreed Miss Elting. “Have you many entries?”

“In the doubles? Yes, there are twenty entries. I imagine there will not
be quite so many as that on the second day of the double events,” added
Mr. Herrington. “George Baker has been scouting for news; he is a regular
sleuth. He will tell you all about it. You will find him at the camp; his
own camp is farther back in the woods. And, by the way, I have given him
permission to pitch a dressing tent just beyond the last court on that
side. He will not do that until just before the doubles are called. Any
of the other players who desire it may have the same privilege. I hadn’t
thought of it until Baker suggested the idea, which is a good one. Next
year we shall do this ourselves. I hope you may be with us then.”

“It is quite likely that we shall,” answered Harriet.

“Then you are quite confident of the result this year?”

“We are going to do our best,” replied Harriet Burrell modestly. “We are
new at the game. Five weeks ago we practically knew nothing of the game.
What we have done has been done within that time.”

“I wish you luck, my dear young ladies, but you will find yourselves in
pretty hot company for girls of your limited experience at the nets. Most
of the contestants have been playing for years at home, though very few
of them, I believe, have ever participated in a public match.”

“I am glad to hear it,” said the Meadow-Brook Girl with a smile. This was
good news to Harriet Burrell and she stowed it away in her mind for
future consideration.

“Mr. Baker tells me that Earlington Disbrow is a friend of yours and that
he is coming down here from Boston to-morrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Disbrow has been good enough to take an interest in our work,”
answered Miss Elting innocently. “We shall be glad to see an old
acquaintance again.”

Mr. Herrington bowed low, expressing his pleasure at having met so
renowned a party as the Meadow-Brooks, and, requesting that they call
upon him for anything in his power to grant, returned to his supervision
of the courts.

As they neared the edge of the wood the tents began to stand out more
plainly. These were just within the edge of the grove. Out in the field a
short distance from the edge of the grove they saw a number of khaki-clad
boys at work. So busy were the latter that up to this time they had
failed to observe the approach of the motor car.

Jane blew her horn. The boys heard and recognized the sound.

“It’s the Meadow-Brooks!” shouted George Baker. “Give ’em a cheer,
fellows. Hurrah!”

The boys tossed their hats in the air and whooped so loudly that the men
at work on the courts at the opposite end of the field paused in their
work to look and listen. The Meadow-Brook Girls answered with their club
yell, the car came to a stop in front of the boys and the girls hopped
out. Hand-shaking was the order of the day for the next few minutes,
during which the girls were overwhelmed with questions.

“Fit as fiddles all around,” declared George after a critical look into
the smiling face of each girl. “Miss Brown is the only soft one in the
party.”

“I’m not soft,” flung back Margery indignantly. “I’d have you know that.
You ought to know it without my telling you.”

“Don’t get angry over it, Miss Margery,” answered George laughingly. “I
didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. What I meant was that you were not in
the pink of condition like the other girls. They have been in training
for some weeks, you know, so you could not be expected to come up to
them.”

Buster, somewhat mollified, smiled and sat down. The girls glanced about
them inquiringly.

“What are you boys doing here?” demanded the guardian, glancing curiously
about her.

“Oh, Miss Elting, they are making a practice court,” cried Harriet.

“Why, boys, you shouldn’t have gone to all that trouble. The games come
on the day after to-morrow and we shall have very little use for a court.
Then, again, you have peeled off the sod. Why couldn’t we have practised
on a grass court for the short time?” asked the guardian. “Of course we
appreciate this, just as we do everything you have done for us, but you
have done altogether too much.”

“In the first place,” replied George, “all you will wish to do on the
courts out there is to warm up, to limber up. You will wish to practise
some of your fancy strokes, which you can do here without any one
observing you. We shall see to that. We shall stand guard and not let any
one near the court while you girls are at work. The reason we peeled the
sod is that you will play on a hard court in the contest. To play on a
grass court here for practice might undo all you have accomplished thus
far with regard to foot work. I know P. E. would agree with me in that.”

“Hathn’t George got a head to be proud of?” demanded Tommy. “I withh I
had a head like hith, only much more beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Captain George bowed with great ceremony, as though deeply
appreciative of this rather doubtful compliment.

“You do think of everything, George,” remarked Harriet. “You are right,
too. This court will be of no little assistance to us for the finishing
touches. I have some new strokes that I have thought out, strokes that I
should like to try without any one’s observing me. Come, let’s look at
the tents.”

There were two of these, one for Miss Elting, the other for the girls.
The boys had given the guardian one of their small camping tents. The
girls uttered exclamations of surprise when they entered the tent.
Everything was arranged with as much taste as they themselves could have
shown. In addition to this the interiors of the two tents were decorated
with cedar boughs that the lads had gathered by the wayside on their way
to Newtown. On the two end poles crossed tennis racquets had been
fastened with a tennis ball in the crotch formed by each pair of
racquets. In the center of the girls’ tent was a small folding table
covered with a scarf that George had borrowed from his mother, and on the
center of the table stood a pitcher filled with roses.

“Oh, you boys, you boys!” exclaimed Miss Elting, her eyes shining
happily. In her own tent she found a similar condition.

The girls looked their deep appreciation rather than expressing it in
mere words.

“I am going to put up a dressing tent for you before the games,” said
George.

“Yes, Mr. Herrington told us,” answered Harriet.

“Oh, then you’ve met Jack? There won’t be much in the tent but a few
blankets and a cot. You will appreciate that tent when you have a rest
between sets. We shall have water there for bathing your faces to help
you cool off. I think we are in for some roasting weather.”

“Anybody would think this was a prize fight that was about to be fought,”
declared Sam abruptly. George fixed him with a rebuking glance.

“I see a great deal is expected of us,” replied Harriet seriously. “If we
do not do our best, we are unworthy of such friendship. But, George, you
know what I promised you before we even began to practise—that we are
going to win. I repeat that statement now, and I mean every word of it.”

“That is the talk,” said George, but inwardly he groaned. He knew in his
own mind that it was beyond the power of Harriet and her fellow-players
to carry off the cup. “You don’t want to practise to-day, do you?”

“Perhaps late in the afternoon,” answered Harriet.

“Then I’ll tell you what let’s do,” suggested Dill enthusiastically.
“Let’s all go down to the beach for a swim in the surf.”

“Fine! Come on, darlin’s,” cried Jane.

“Oh, yeth, let’th go,” urged Tommy.

“I do not think it would be wise,” answered Harriet reflectively. “I
should dearly love a swim, but I do not think it prudent. We might catch
a little cold or stiffen our muscles or something of the sort. We have
too much at stake to take any chances. I for one shall not go in the surf
and I hope none of you girls will.”

“Harriet is right,” answered George approvingly.

“Yes, she is,” agreed Miss Elting. “But you haven’t told us the news. Mr.
Herrington said you knew a lot about what had been going on here.”

George’s face took on a more serious expression.

“I’ve turned up a few facts,” he said.

“I suppose it is all settled as to who is going to win the championship
cup?” said Harriet with a smile.

He nodded.

“That’s what they say. They say that the championship lies between the
Scott Sisters and the two pairs known as the Fifth Avenues and the
Riversides.”

“Have you seen them play?” asked Harriet.

“No. But I got hold of a fellow I know who has seen them play a number of
times. He says they are wonders, regular Indians with the racquets. I’ve
got Charlie Mabie scouting now. He will bring back the news.”

“I hope you will not do anything that isn’t quite right, George,” said
Miss Elting deprecatingly.

The captain shook his head.

“No. You’ll find they will be doing the same thing here, or trying to.
They will get a hard bump if they do,” he added under his breath. “But
you do want to look alive for those Scott Sisters. From all I can learn,
they are regular professionals, and those who have seen them play in
other matches say they are mighty tricky players.”

“You mean dishonest?” questioned Harriet.

“Well, you might call it that. I mean they would be if they could get
away with it. But even so, a player sometimes can turn a trick that isn’t
fair and not be caught at it, or else is able to convince the umpire that
she didn’t do anything unfair.”

“Nothing of the sort will be done by this team,” declared Harriet Burrell
firmly. “But though we shall play fairly, we shall go in prepared to
fight to the bitter end, to fight every inch of the way until either we
drive our opponents off the court or are driven off of it ourselves.”

“Hurrah! That’s certainly the real hero talk,” shouted Sam.

“Will you please keep still,” admonished George. “I was about to say that
I haven’t learned anything of interest about the other teams entered for
the doubles. In fact, not much of anything is known here. All of them
will be here to-morrow. Perhaps Herrington told you that the singles are
to be played off first. Some of the girls in those are to play in the
doubles also. You ought to be able to get pointers by watching them play
in the singles, learning their tricks and so on.”

“That will be helpful,” agreed Harriet.

“What do you wish to do now, sit down and rest?” questioned the captain.

“We must go back to town and get our food supplies,” answered the
guardian. “Will you come with us, George?”

“Yes, thank you. I was going to propose that you go over to town with me.
There’s something there that I want to show you. Oh, you’ll be delighted
when you see it.”




                              CHAPTER XVII
                           THE CUP THAT LURED


The girls lost no time in getting into Jane’s car, accompanied by Captain
Baker, who sat on the front seat with the driver. They drove slowly
around the edge of the field, thence out into the street, observed by
Jack Herrington with a quizzical smile on his face.

“There is as fine a set of girls as I ever saw,” he reflected. “I
shouldn’t be surprised if they were heard from at the nets one of these
days. But five weeks’ practice and entering the hottest amateur
tournament we’ve ever had on the coast!” he muttered. “I ought to ask
them to withdraw their entry, but I couldn’t do it when that Miss Burrell
looked at me with that unflinching, searching gaze of hers.” He laughed
as he saw Jane and her car enveloped in a cloud of dust. Then the
Meadow-Brook car disappeared around the corner.

“That one certainly can drive a car, even if she can’t play tennis,” he
added.

In the meantime the automobile was speeding through the town, scattering
pedestrians right and left, Jane unheeding the guardian’s urgent demands
that she drive more slowly. Jane was in a hurry to learn what it was that
Captain George Baker had in store for them. They were eager to know about
this latest surprise.

“I hope you are not getting us into more trouble, Captain,” Miss Elting
called to him.

“It spells trouble for some one,” answered the captain. “No, this is no
other game I am trying to play on you. You have game enough on hand as it
is.”

“I should say we have,” answered the guardian, her face taking on a
thoughtful expression, little lines of perplexity forming on her
forehead. “Indeed we have, and to spare.”

George directed Jane into the main business street of the town.

“Do you wish to get your supplies first?” asked the captain.

“No!” cried the girls with one accord, “we want the surprise.”

“You shall have it. Pull up before that red brick building you see on the
left there, Miss Jane. We will get out there.”

They got down hurriedly. They could not imagine what this new surprise
might be. George led them to the sidewalk, passers-by glancing
inquiringly at the brown-faced girls as well as at their distinctive blue
uniforms, which a few persons recognized as belonging to the Meadow-Brook
Girls’ organization. The captain stepped across the walk to the window of
a jewelry store, where he halted and pointed.

“There is the surprise,” he said, his eyes sparkling, his face flushed.

At first the girls’ eyes wandered over the glittering array of costly
articles displayed in the window, their glances finally coming to rest on
a centerpiece that stood out and above all the rest. That something was a
massive silver cup, standing fully eighteen inches high. The cup stood by
itself, on a black velvet mat. There was a massive silver handle on
either side. Then they saw that it was a trophy. A tennis net worked out
in silver decorated the lower part of the cup; above the net were two
crossed racquets and a ball, all in solid silver.

Still further up on the swell, cut deeply into the polished surface were
the words, “Atlantic Coast Tennis Association Trophy for Girls Under
Eighteen. Doubles. Won by ——”

__“Ohh-h-h!” breathed the girls in a delighted chorus.

“Isn’t it perfectly lov—e—ly?” gasped Buster.

“Why, it must be worth a great deal of money,” cried Hazel.

“Yes, it is very beautiful and very expensive,” agreed the guardian.
“That, Meadow-Brook Girls, is the prize for which you are to play. Isn’t
it worth going after?”

“Indeed, it is,” agreed Jane McCarthy, really overcome by the
magnificence of the trophy cup.

“Won’t that look perfectly stunning on our center tables?” exclaimed
Buster.

“Our thenter tableth!” exploded Tommy. “You aren’t in the match at all.
Jutht remember that, Buthter.”

“No, but she is one of us and will share all the glory as well as the
disappointments of the Meadow-Brook Girls,” answered Harriet reprovingly.
“Where shall we put it, girls?”

“My father will want it on hith library table, where he can look at it
until hith eyethight failth him,” answered Tommy.

“But we shall all want it in our homes,” declared Jane. “How are we going
to arrange that?”

“We might split the cup into five parts and each take a piece home,”
suggested Hazel.

“No, that won’t do. I’ll tell you how we shall arrange it, girls,”
planned Harriet enthusiastically.

“Yeth, Harriet knowth what to do,” said Tommy, nodding her tow-head
rapidly. “Thhe alwayth knowth everything.”

“First, we shall place it on exhibition in that jewelry store on Sycamore
Street at home. We shall want everybody to see it, and we shall be very
proud.”

“Yeth, and we’ll thtand inthide the thtore and lithten to what they thay
about uth, won’t we?” bubbled Tommy.

“Then, after a day or two, we shall draw lots to see who has it in her
home first. In the beginning each shall keep it for a day until it goes
the rounds of all our homes. On the next round each shall keep it for two
days and so on, every round adding a day up to a month. A month will be
long enough for any girl to have it in her home at a stretch. I’ll tell
you what we will do, we will each put in a little money that we shall
earn, and buy one of those black marble pedestals that are used to hold
statues. Then we can stand the precious cup in the window so people
passing may see it.”

“And, of course, we must write to our friends and announce the good
news,” reminded Hazel Holland.

“I know one person, at least, who will be glad to hear of our triumph,”
declared Harriet. “Grace Harlowe will be delighted to learn that we’ve
qualified as champion tennis players.”

“And so will her friends, Nora O’Malley and Anne Pierson and Jessica
Bright,” chimed in Marjory. “We never dreamed, when we met those nice
girls on our return from the mountains that we’d all become such friends,
did we?”

“I’m fond of them all, but Grace Harlowe is my ideal.” Harriet spoke with
deep conviction. She had met Grace Harlowe and her three chums during the
preceding summer. When the Meadow-Brook Girls had passed through Oakdale
on their way home. They had remained over night with the Wingates, who
were relatives of Tommy Thompson’s.

Hippy Wingate, Tommy’s cousin, had risen to the occasion and invited his
particular group of friends, known as the Eight Originals, of whom much
has been told in the “Grace Harlowe Books,” to meet the Meadow-Brook
Girls. These wide-awake young people had spent a most delightful evening
together and a firm comradeship had sprung up between the two sets of
girls. Harriet and Grace Harlowe had at once established a permanent bond
of fellowship, so it was hardly to be wondered at that the former’s first
thought was of Grace.

“Of courthe we’ll let the Oakdale girlths know what marvelouth championth
we are,” nodded Tommy. “I’ll thend Grathe a telegram mythelf the minute
the tournament’th over, thaying we’ve won the cup.”

“Can you beat it?” murmured George, chancing to catch the laughing eyes
of the guardian.

“No, George, I confess that I cannot,” answered Miss Elting.

“Maybe you might want to take the cup with you right now?” suggested the
captain.

“Could we?” asked Tommy innocently, whereat there was a laugh at her
expense.

“No, my dear. There are some little formalities to be gone through with
first,” said Harriet. “We first have to win it after battling with some
of the best girl players in the State. That done, we shall take the cup
and carry out the plans already made. I think we had better attend to our
errands now.”

“Oh, don’t go,” begged Tommy. “I could thtand here and look at it all the
retht of the day.”

They started back toward the car. At the edge of the sidewalk Tommy
turned and ran back to the window. The other girls stepped into the car
and there they sat for fully five minutes until Tommy Thompson had
impressed every line and curve of the beautiful trophy on her mind.

“You may break it if you look at it so hard,” warned George.

“Come, Tommy. Remember, you must get your rest and be ready for practice
this afternoon,” called the guardian.

The little girl turned away reluctantly, and getting into the car settled
back in the seat, uttering a deep sigh of happy satisfaction.

“I thhall want to look at it all the time. I know I’ll thit up nighth
looking at it,” she murmured.

No one answered her. Each girl was too deeply absorbed in her thoughts to
speak at that moment. Then the car moved on and the exquisite trophy for
which they were soon to enter the lists was left behind them. But Harriet
resolved that the separation should not be for long. Captain George, on
his part, took a different view of the matter.

“The disappointment will nearly kill them,” he thought.




                             CHAPTER XVIII
                          WHAT THE SPY LEARNED


The purchases made, Jane drove at her usual rate of speed until she
reached the tournament grounds. She slowed down just long enough to gain
the field, then put on full speed. The car went dashing over the lot,
threatening every minute to upset. She did not even turn out for a group
of workmen. They were the men who got out of the way, and just in time,
too. No amount of argument on the part of her companions could induce
Jane McCarthy to drive slowly. Of course, she would not have run over any
one recklessly, but in trying to avoid doing so she might have upset her
car and caused serious injury to her passengers.

The boys were still rolling their practice court with hand rollers,
packing down a lump or digging it off here and there, giving as much
attention to the task as if the tournament were to be played on that
particular court.

“It is a shame for the boys to work so hard,” said Miss Elting.

“Do them good,” answered George carelessly.

“We thaw the cup, Tham,” cried Tommy, leaping from the car.

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“And each of uth ith going to have it in her home. Jutht think of that!”

“Just think of it,” scoffed Sam. “Makes me dizzy to contemplate. Aren’t
you girls eating in the middle of the day any more or are you fasting for
the tournament?”

They hadn’t thought of luncheon. They had been absorbed with matters of
much greater importance.

“I don’t see anything that looks like a campfire,” said Hazel, glancing
about her.

George led the way to the rear of the tents, where he pointed proudly to
a fireplace made of stones. Near it was a pile of dry wood, some soft for
starting the fire, some hard for making a bed of hot coals.

“As you are not fasting, we shall proceed to get something to eat for
you,” declared Captain George.

“No, indeed. You have done quite enough. We will get it ourselves,”
answered Harriet, immediately setting about preparing the noonday meal,
which in this instance would be eaten some time after noon. Her
companions put on their aprons, and half an hour later Tramp Boys and
Meadow-Brook Girls sat down to a light luncheon.

George told them such other news as he had learned, the plans for the
tournament, how the names of the players who were to be opposed to each
other were to be drawn, and the like. No one knew exactly whom she was to
play against, no one would know until the drawings were made shortly
before the game was to be played. This added a spice to the contest,
though that was not the purpose of the regulation.

“You see,” continued the captain, “in case you were pitted against such
players as the Scott Sisters, or those high-toned players from New York
City, you might go down and out in the first set. Then you would be done
for, for good and all this season, without a doubt.”

“You are mistaken,” answered Harriet promptly.

“I know the laws,” answered George with some warmth.

“Yes, but it is quite plain that you do not know the Meadow-Brook Girls.
In the case you mention it would be the New York girls who would be done
for, for good and all. You are mistaken, George. But we forgive you. We
know your heart is in the right place.”

“There’s no use trying to tell you anything,” objected the captain
warmly. “You are so stubborn.”

“Isn’t that the way to be?” questioned Harriet Burrell sweetly. “Or would
you prefer to have us meek and to say, ‘Oh, yes, the New York girls will
win, of course. We stand no chance, whatever; we are going to lie right
down on the court and let them have their way’? Is that the way you would
like to have me receive your remarks and answer them?”

“No!” exploded George, “not by a jug full. I withdraw my ungentlemanly
remark and beg your pardon. You are right and I am wrong. You are always
right. Tommy says so and I agree with her.”

“You thee, I am the withe one of the outfit, Mith Elting,” spoke up Tommy
brightly.

“How many prizes are to be offered?” asked the guardian, thus putting an
end to the subject the young folks had been discussing. “I have heard
nothing about it save the little you and Mr. Herrington have mentioned.”

“In the doubles, you mean? Well, there is the championship cup——”

“Our cup,” cut in Tommy. “You know we are each to have it in our hometh.”

“There is a smaller cup, too, I believe. There is also a gold bracelet
and a few other consolation prizes, including a pair of rag dolls for the
ones at the tail end of the procession. How would you like a nice,
homemade rag doll, Grace?”

“I don’t want a rag doll, I want a thilver cup—_the_ thilver cup,”
protested Tommy indignantly. “I won’t have a rag doll!”

“Of course not,” agreed Harriet. “What a ridiculous idea! We shall have a
silver cup, shan’t we, dear?”

“_The_ thilver cup,” corrected Tommy.

“Yes. And how soon will our court be ready for us, Captain?” asked
Harriet, turning to the captain.

“Not until late this afternoon. You will want to get settled and rest and
adjust yourselves.”

“No; I shall, for one, want to get to work as soon as I shall have
properly digested my luncheon,” replied Harriet, and then, turning to
Charlie Mabie, she added, “Charlie, you are actually getting thin.”

“No wonder. I’m doing all the running for both outfits. Up at the camp in
the woods it was ‘Charlie, run to town and get so and so.’ Town was only
twelve miles away, but Charlie runs just the same. Now it will be,
‘Charlie, run over to town and get a box of candy for the girls.’”

“Not for these girls,” interjected Harriet. “These girls are not eating
candy at the present time. We are living plainly, I would have you
understand. Tommy, I want you to help me for a little while. You are
small and thin. Do you wish to assist me in working out something?”

“Yeth.”

“Then I wish you would stand up and let me see if I can hit you with the
tennis ball. I want to try an experiment.”

“I gueth not. You had better try to hit a tree if you want thomething to
hit. I don’t like thuch experimenth.”

“I’ll be the easy mark,” offered Sam. “You may hit me in the face, too,
if you want to and can. Only don’t volley for my game nose. It is still a
little tender from the wollop Grace gave it with her racquet that time.
You won’t throw your racquet at me, will you?”

“Indeed, not,” answered Harriet with a merry laugh. “I just want to
practise for accuracy.”

Sam posed as a mark for Harriet shortly after dinner, though she
permitted him to try to avoid her returns. Sam succeeded part of the
time, but not all of the time. Harriet had a little mystifying way of
sending the ball at him and reaching almost any spot on his body at which
she chose to aim. George said it was because Sam was too slow to get out
of the way. Harriet smiled but made no denial. There was no regular
practice play, however, until very late in the afternoon. Then for a time
the girls limbered up on the court while the boys were placing the net.

Then they decided to play a set. Jane and Hazel won the first two games
of the set, the other four games going to Harriet and Tommy. The second
set, by agreement, was played much faster than the first had been. The
girls really disposed of this set with a dash and spirit that they had
not displayed at any other previous practice.

“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” declared George. “I didn’t think you had it in
you to go through with it like that. That was a dandy, but not yet fast
enough to win the big cup.”

Harriet laughed at him with that teasing laugh that always made George
feel like chewing the brim of his hat to keep from making remarks.
Harriet suggested that they play a slower game this time and try to put
into practice all the tricks they had learned from Mr. Disbrow, to
rehearse everything, in fact, that they held in reserve for their
opponents when the time came to play the big games.

It was an interesting practice and one who had been looking on might have
gained some valuable information as to what sort of a game the
Meadow-Brook Girls intended to play in the tournament.

“Another thing that we need is a set of signals,” announced Harriet. “Now
we all play with our right hands, so I suggest that we agree upon a
certain set of signals to be made with the left hand as a direction to
our playing-mate as to what to do. These signals must not be overdone,
only used in case of extreme necessity. Not knowing how we shall be
paired off on the playing day, we must all learn them alike. I have
prepared a few already. We can add others as they seem to be needed.”

Harriet then explained her signals to her companions, which each one
wrote down at her dictation while the boys looked on wonderingly. Sam had
gone back to their own camp on an errand for George, so he was not a
party to the plan. After they had read over their lists, Harriet went
through the signals, requiring the others to interpret them as she made
the signs. When unable to do so they had but to refer to their papers.
This proved a very short cut to memorizing the signals.

“Of course,” continued Harriet, “we can’t be watching each other all the
time for signals, but there may come moments when an understanding
between the team-mates may be worth a great deal to each of them.”

“I don’t know whether P. E. will approve of this business or not,” said
Captain Baker in a doubtful tone.

“If he does not, of course, we shall not use them,” answered Harriet
readily. “I’ll tell you what we will do. We will play a game for him
without telling him we are going to use signals, while all the time we
will be signaling to each other. Then we will tell him and ask his
judgment on the matter.”

“Agreed,” said George. “Now, if you think you have the signals down pat
enough, suppose you play a game for me, using the signs as you find you
can. You, Jane and Hazel, are not supposed to know anything about these
signals for this game. Just don’t see them.”

A game was played, and several times during the progress of it Harriet or
Tommy made use of the signals. The other team-mates could not wholly
overlook these signals, hence they were in a measure on their guard for
what followed each time, but the value of signals was so apparent that
George declared himself fully convinced. He said there could be no doubt
as to how P. E. would view them.

“How did you ever think of it, Harriet?” he questioned, gazing at her
admiringly.

“I just dreamed them out at home the other night, but I had forgotten all
about it until to-day.”

“Well, all I’ve got to say about it is that you are a mighty good
dreamer. Now, we haven’t much time left before dark, so go ahead and
play. Use your signals, use everything. Work fast and do your best.
There’s no one to see you. No one comes around here. They know better
when we men are on hand to watch over you.”

Despite George’s boast, however, a young man had been gradually working
his way through the grove, approaching the tennis court from the rear of
the tents, his stealthy movements as he darted from tree to tree being
shielded from their view by the tents. As the shadows grew more dense in
the grove he kept creeping closer. There was still plenty of light for
the players, and their movements were quite plain to the spy who had
stolen upon them.

Reaching a point some little distance removed from the camp and now to
one side of it, a position that commanded a fairly unobstructed view of
the tennis court, he drew a pair of opera glasses from his pocket and
immediately became absorbed in watching the playing on the Meadow-Brook
court. Now and then he was able to hear what was said, but, fortunately,
when discussing the signals the girls and boys lowered their voices
instinctively. If the fellow had been a keen student of the game he
undoubtedly would have seen that something was being done that looked
like learning a signal code, but whether or not he understood the meaning
of the natural movements of the left arms and hands of the players cannot
be said. He had not crept close enough to make his observations before
they began to play.

While all this was going on Sam Crocker had been to the Tramp Boys’ camp
and was on his way back. All at once he halted, and, shading his eyes,
gazed at the figure. The fellow’s back was turned toward Sam. Then the
latter saw the opera glasses. He understood at once. Some one was spying
on the camp.

“Oh!” chuckled Sam, rolling up his sleeves, “here is food for reflection,
and food for my two big fists. Now, Mr. Man, look out for yourself, for
the avenger is certainly on your trail!”

The avenger was. Stooping low and moving with extreme caution, Sam
Crocker crept slowly up toward the supposed spy, getting nearer and
nearer. All at once, after straightening up, he uttered a whoop and
sprang forward, hurling himself on the man at the tree.




                              CHAPTER XIX
                        ON THE TOURNAMENT COURTS


The spy went down, more under the force of a well-directed blow that Sam
had planted on the back of his neck than from the force of Sam’s weight
that fell upon him.

“I’ve got him!” yelled Sam. “I’ve got the miserable spy. Come here,
fellows, quick! Oh-h-h-h! Ouch!” There was a despairing wail in the voice
of the Tramp Boy now. The note of triumph had left it.

Sam’s companions had sprung up with his first call and started into the
grove, but though they could hear their companion they were unable to
locate him.

Sam Crocker’s yells were now half smothered, so it seemed to his
companions. Then all at once they saw Sam rise from the ground, saw him
with both hands clapped to his face, heard his unintelligible yells for
help. The boys ran at top speed.

“What is it?” shouted George.

“Catch him!” moaned Sam, suddenly sitting down again.

“Catch whom?”

“The spy! the spy! He’s getting away. He ran that way. Chase him.”

The boys now began to understand. With one accord they spread out and
began running through the grove, shouting to each other as they ran, but
no trace of Sam’s spy did they find. He had had ample time to make his
escape while Sam was trying to make his companions understand what had
happened.

The girls had dropped their racquets and ran out, following the boys.
They found the unhappy Sam, hands still pressed against his face, rocking
to and fro and groaning.

“Oh, Sam, you have hurt your poor nose again,” sympathized Miss Elting.
“Get a pail of water. No, we will take him back to camp where we can give
him better treatment,” said the guardian. Sam permitted himself to be
assisted to his feet and slowly led back to the camp of the Meadow-Brook
Girls. Miss Elting promptly set to work to wash the blood from his face
so that she might determine how serious was the hurt that he had
received.

It was while she was thus engaged that George and his companions
returned. They were in none too good humor either.

“You are a fine one to send us off on a wild goose chase like that!”
growled George. “I don’t believe you saw any one at all. You must have
seen a shadow.”

Sam found his voice.

“Look at my nose! Does that look as if I hadn’t seen any one? Does my
nose look as if I had met a shadow?” he roared, his roar ending in a
groan, for, in opening his mouth, he had hurt his nose again.

“Tell us what you did see,” urged Baker, his voice growing sympathetic
when he saw that Sam was suffering.

“I think we shall have to take him to a physician,” announced the
guardian. “I fear this is a little beyond my ability as a surgeon. Can’t
you wait until he is fixed up, George?”

“Yes, but if he’s able, he must tell us now,” replied the captain. “If
there is anything at all to this we should know it at once. Think you can
talk, Sam?”

“Ye—es, if you won’t nag me. Ouch!” Sam remonstrated as the guardian
touched his suffering nose.

“Never mind. I won’t do it again,” said Miss Elting gravely. “I thought
that perhaps I might be able to straighten your nose, but see that is not
best, nor had I better put on any adhesive plaster. The doctor would have
to take it off, thus causing you useless additional pain. Tell them,
please, if you are going to do so. We must get you to a doctor at once.”

“I was coming through the grove when I discovered a fellow hiding behind
a tree,” explained Sam Crocker with many a halt and groan. “I crawled up
toward him. I didn’t like his looks. Then I saw he had a pair of opera
glasses. Through the glasses he was watching the girls at practice.”

“What!” shouted George. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did, but you thought I had seen shadows. Shadows don’t give a fellow
this,” he added, pointing to his own disreputable nose. “When I got up
close enough I jumped upon him. I punched him at the same time. He went
down and I on top of him. It looked like a soft thing for me. I yelled to
you boys about that time. But Fate was against me. Do you know, that
fellow knew all about my sore nose, knew that it was the one particular
tender, sensitive spot on my whole body. The scoundrel jerked his elbow
back just like this. It hit me on the nose and made me yell. Oh, it hurt
awfully. I just rolled right off him and clapped both hands to my poor
nose. It was bleeding badly. Then the fellow jumped up. I made a grab for
him; then, what do you suppose he did? He kicked me in the nose, kicked
me right on the sorest spot in my whole body. I don’t mind being kicked,
but to be insulted by being kicked on the nose—that’s _too_ much for a
self-respecting Tramp. If you catch him, don’t do anything to him. Just
bring him to me.”

“Would you know the fellow if you were to see him again?” questioned
George, frowning.

“I don’t know. I think so, although I saw his face only for a second.”

“How was he dressed?”

“He had on a pair of shoes, heavy ones,” was Sam’s innocent reply.

“What kind of suit?” persisted George.

“Didn’t notice it. Don’t think I saw it at all.”

“Boys, this is serious,” declared Captain Baker, turning to his fellow
Tramps. “Some one has been spying while the girls were at practice. We
should have posted guards, but I didn’t think we should be bothered this
afternoon. There are some queer people around here. Of course, we can’t
blame them for wanting to know all they can, but we may blame ourselves
for letting them find out. We shall see to it, however, that this
incident is not repeated.”

“I wonder if he saw our signals!” gasped Jane.

“He did, no doubt. We were making them about that time. But, girls, keep
your eyes open. If the boys don’t catch the guilty ones, we shall
undoubtedly do so when we get in the tournament. If this spying has been
done in the interest of any of the players, the girls will know our
signals when we face the net,” declared Harriet. “The spy may not have
heard our explanations, but if he is sharp he will be able to identify
the signals with the plays that follow. When any of you sees that her
opponents understand our signals you will know you are getting close to
the fellow who hurt Sam’s nose. Then you just watch. Are you going to
send him to a doctor, Miss Elting?”

“I’ll take him in the motor car,” said Jane.

It was arranged in that way, Miss Elting and Captain George accompanying
the injured boy, who really was suffering more than he ever remembered to
have suffered in all his life. The other Tramp Boys remained with the
Meadow-Brook Girls. The boys were angry and the girls indignant at the
attack on Sam Crocker, but there was nothing to be done in the matter now
except to wait and watch.

Sam was brought back in Jane’s car. His face was plastered until he was
well-nigh unrecognizable, but it was the same old familiar voice that
inquired if supper were ready. The girls had forgotten all about the
meal. Their minds had not been on eating at any stage of this eventful
day. They hurriedly set about preparing a meal for themselves and the
boys.

“The doctor says he will not be permanently disfigured,” Harriet informed
her companions. “Of course, he must not get any more such knocks on the
nose. It’s too bad, now that the tournament is on.”

“I have my voice left,” answered Sam. “I can yell, and now that the
plasters are there to hold my nose in place I won’t crack my face doing
so. I’m going to do some yelling. Another fellow may be heard to yell,
too, but he won’t yell in the same tone, not if I lay my gentle hands
upon him.”

The girls were tired and they were to have a long day’s practice on the
following day, so the boys were permitted to go to their own camp at an
early hour in the evening. There the Tramps discussed ways and means of
trapping the spy and giving him the thrashing he deserved, not so much on
account of his having spied on them as because of his brutal kicking of
Sam Crocker. The elbow jolt was necessary in order to free himself, but
the kick in the nose was not. It was the kick that he should be punished
for, the lads decided, after sitting in judgment on the matter for a long
time. They, too, went to bed with their minds fully made up as to what
they would do when they found the man. It would not have been a pleasant
prospect for him had he known.

Next morning Harriet was out at daylight. Shortly afterward she saw the
men setting the nets on the tournament courts.

“Here is our chance, girls,” she cried. “The nets are being placed. Get
ready and we can have a long practice before the rest of the community is
stirring.”

There was some grumbling, but Harriet being recognized as the leader
among the girls, her suggestions were usually adopted. They were in this
instance and were warmly seconded by the guardian. As soon as they could
get ready they did so and were off across the fields, each eating a piece
of bread. There were no Tramp Boys in sight at that early hour, only the
workmen and a manager who was directing the placing of the nets on
measurements already laid down. Jack Herrington had reasoned that some of
the contestants might desire early practice and, to give them all an
opportunity, had ordered the nets set up at daybreak.

Miss Elting asked permission to use the courts, which was granted; then
the girls began a game, after first having warmed up, for the morning was
chill. There being no one to see them except the men at work, they did
not hesitate to use all their tricks and secret plays, making good use of
the signals all through the set. Harriet and Tommy won the first game,
Hazel and Jane the next.

Acting upon the suggestion of the guardian the girls were not playing
fast games that morning, but instead they were playing for accuracy and
perfection. They were devoting a great deal of attention these days to
form, seeking to make their movements as graceful and artistic as
possible and yet obtain the best results from their playing. In this
instance Miss Elting was their critic.

So interested were the Meadow-Brook Girls in their work that they failed
to see a man climb the fence from the street and cross the lot toward the
courts. His approach was shielded by the stand built for the tournament
spectators. They were unaware of his presence as he stood behind the
stand, where he watched the whole of the second set. Then to their
amazement he suddenly appeared before them, having walked around to the
front of the stand without attracting attention to himself until Harriet
Burrell had called “Game!”




                               CHAPTER XX
                         A WELCOME DISTURBANCE


“Caught red-handed,” cried a familiar voice.

Margery uttered a little scream.

“Thave me!” cried Tommy, dropping her racquet.

“Sorry to have frightened you, ladies, but glad that it was I who did it
rather than some one else,” he said, stepping forward, laughing heartily
at their confusion.

“It’s Mr. Disbrow,” cried Harriet. “Oh, we are glad to see you. How long
have you been here?”

“Since the beginning of the set. You should be more cautious. How did you
know but that one of your opponents might be watching and getting
pointers from your practice? You certainly have been applying all the
instruction I gave you.”

“It was a mistake,” agreed Miss Elting. “We were all too absorbed to
think that any one might be looking on. How did you get here so early?”

“I just arrived, and, after leaving my bag at the hotel, thought I would
walk over and have a look at the courts. It is too early for breakfast at
the hotel, you know.”

“I am glad. You will now have breakfast with us. The boys have not yet
arrived.”

“I did not expect to see them,” chuckled Disbrow. “But tell me, what is
new? What do you hear about the other contestants?”

Harriet told him all that they had learned from George Baker, to all of
which Mr. Disbrow listened gravely.

“Yes, I have heard as much. It seems a foregone conclusion that the Scott
Sisters are going to win the cup. From what I have been able to learn
they are accomplished players and have been in training for this match
ever since early in the spring.”

“Yes?” Harriet’s eyebrows elevated ever so little. “You have lost your
confidence in the Meadow-Brook Girls, then?”

“By no means. From what I have just seen here you girls will give a most
excellent account of yourselves, but that doesn’t mean that you will win
the cup. I do not see how you could even hope to do so after the very
brief time you have spent at the nets. Had you finished?”

“We were going back to camp, but we will put on another game if you
like,” replied Harriet.

“I wish you would. You may not find another opportunity when no others
are about. After this afternoon I shouldn’t do more than just keep in
good form. I mean, do no hard work on the court. Now, if you are ready,
you may play a couple of games, keeping the same partners, and paying
especial attention to team work.”

They did so, Harriet Burrell’s side winning each time, the two games
being watched keenly by the Englishman, but without comment until the
games were finished.

“Very good, _very_ good!” he cried, with something more than the usual
praise in his voice. “I am satisfied that you have done a great deal more
than really could be expected of you. In fact, I may say that I would not
have deemed it possible for novices to get in such form as you are
showing in so short a time. Do not set your hopes too high, but get as
near the top as you can. I shall make it a point to circulate among the
players who are here and renew old acquaintances. I may have something
further to say on the matter this evening. Oh, no, I am not going to spy
on our opponents. I merely want to hear from persons who know what the
others have been doing, how they are showing up as to form and skill. I
think I shall accept your invitation to breakfast with you. This air has
given me an appetite.”

“We have a very good court at the camp,” said Miss Elting after the party
had started for camp. “The boys have worked like Trojans to put it in
excellent shape. It is a dirt court.”

“That is good. They are a fine lot of boys.”

“Yeth, and Tham bumped hith nothe,” Tommy informed him.

“So I hear. Poor Samuel. He is a most unfortunate mortal, but he is all
to the good. That is a fine location for you. You should have some place
in which to rest, however. You will have seven minutes after each third
set, you know.”

“The teams are to have dressing tents near the courts if they wish,”
answered Harriet Burrell. “Mr. Baker is going to put up one for us.”

“Good old George!” approved Mr. Disbrow.

At breakfast, which was a hearty meal in the case of the champion, he
offered his criticisms of their playing that morning, making valuable
suggestions and giving them a series of instructions regarding their
playing when the real test was at hand—that of standing up before
hundreds of people and yet being wholly unconscious of their presence.

The conversation was continued after breakfast, then the girls told him
of their code of signals. Disbrow said he had observed them when they
were playing the second set while he was watching from behind the stand.
He agreed that it was an excellent idea provided they did not give too
much attention to watching for signals and thus overlook the more
important things.

“Harriet ith going to let uth have the thilver polithh and cloth for the
cup,” interjected Tommy wholly irrelevantly to the subject under
discussion.

Mr. Disbrow laughed heartily.

“I sincerely hope you may have use for the silver polish,” he replied.
“To-morrow, I believe, the singles are to be played off. You should see
all of them and study the methods of the players critically, especially
those whom you are to face in the courts next day. Here come the boys.”

“It’s P. E.!” shouted George the instant he caught sight of the
Englishman sitting in the camp. The boys welcomed him boisterously, then
George poured out all the news he had obtained. Later on he accompanied
Mr. Disbrow to his hotel, where the two discussed the chances of the
Meadow-Brook Girls. Neither the champion nor the boy saw any reason to
change their opinions on this subject. That the girls might make an
excellent showing they agreed, but that they stood any chance at all of
winning the championship neither believed.

“It is simply an impossibility,” declared P. E. with emphasis. “I wish I
might look at it in a different light. Perhaps we may change our minds
after we see what the other people have been doing, but I doubt it. Have
you seen any of the others play?”

George said he had not, but that he had some confidential reports on the
work of the Fifth Avenues and the Riversides.

“How are they?” questioned Disbrow eagerly.

“Hot stuff,” answered George, “but very fancy. My, but they handle their
racquets well!”

“That doesn’t necessarily make a champion,” suggested Disbrow
thoughtfully. “But we shall see. I shall hope to have further information
by this evening and still more to-morrow. I say, if I shouldn’t get back
before dark, see that the girls play a couple of sets—light practice,
mind you—after four o’clock this afternoon. And don’t let them work too
hard during the heat of the afternoon. They are pretty fit physically now
and I don’t want them to lose form. I think it is safe to say that no
team in the tournament will enter the courts in better physical condition
than the Meadow-Brooks. They are simply wonderful physically. I leave you
to look after these things as I do not wish to take an active part. It
would not be best for them.”

George agreed. All arrangements having been talked over and understood
between George and Mr. Disbrow, they separated, George to return to camp,
the Englishman to spend the day among the tennis people, many of whom he
knew, for the tournament had drawn as spectators tennis players of high
and low degree.

Almost every person was talking tennis and discussing the merits of the
respective teams. Of the Meadow-Brooks little was known. Some had heard
of them, most had not, nor had the girls appeared on the streets of the
town enough to be identified and placed. They were too busy with the
serious affairs in hand to spend any time wandering about the summer
resort in idle pleasure.

Every train that arrived during the day brought with it players and
visitors. Early in the forenoon girls in white sweaters might have been
seen at practice on the tournament courts. The Meadow-Brook Girls were at
no time among them, nor were the Scott Sisters nor the Fifth Avenues and
Riversides. The latter two were practising on their own private courts
and the former were staying with friends and resting preparatory to the
battle to be fought perhaps on the morrow.

It was after dinner that evening before Earlington Disbrow turned his
footsteps toward the Meadow-Brook camp. He was not highly elated over
what he had learned that day, but showed nothing of this in his face or
manner when he called on the girls. The boys were still there.

George reported that the girls had had a very satisfactory day’s
practice, but that the Tramps had had difficulty in keeping spectators
and curious players away from the place. The Tramps had literally thrown
a circle about the Meadow-Brook Girls’ court, permitting no one to pass
within the circle while practice was in progress.

“Will they play to-morrow?” questioned Dill.

“No. Mr. Herrington does not think it advisable. It will undoubtedly be
late in the afternoon before the singles are run off, so he has decided
to start the doubles on the following forenoon at ten o’clock.”

“What do you wish on the question of team-mates?” he asked, turning to
Miss Elting.

“We have been leaving that to you.”

“Then I will offer my suggestion. I have talked it over with George and
he agrees with me. I believe the best results can be obtained by
arranging it as follows, Miss Burrell and Miss Thompson to play together,
Miss McCarthy and Miss Holland to act as team-mates. Of course, Miss
Thompson is not as heavy as I wish she were, but she makes up for that in
a measure by her alertness. Have you any objections to the arrangement?”

“Indeed not,” answered the guardian. “You have expressed my own ideas on
the question. None of the girls has expressed any preference, but I know
they will be satisfied.”

“I for one am,” answered Harriet promptly. The other girls announced
themselves as pleased with the arrangement.

“Then we will call it settled. I wish we might be drawn so that you girls
could play the weaker teams first.”

“We do not wish any favoritism,” declared Harriet. “If we can’t win
fairly and on our merits, we prefer to be beaten.”

“That is the sportsman-like spirit. That is the spirit that should
prevail in all contests, as I am certain it will in this. You are going
to be in hot company. I have learned something more about the playing of
the Scott Sisters. They are fine players. I am not belittling your work,
mind you. You play a splendid game—a marvelous game for the time you have
been practising, but you must remember that one has to go through a few
public matches before one learns to play well before people.”

“Yeth, we underthtand,” nodded Tommy.

“Then you think we shall not win?” questioned Harriet.

“I do not wish to discourage you, nor do I think you will so construe
what I have to say. I think you will play a very fine game and that you
will not win the booby prize, but as for winning the cup, for the life of
me I don’t see how you are going to do it. There! It’s out now.”

“You are one of those perthonth who have to be thhown, aren’t you?”
lisped Tommy Thompson after a moment of deep silence following the
discouraging announcement. “I gueth that we thhall have to thhow you.”




                              CHAPTER XXI
                           A DISASTER IN CAMP


The morning following the conversation between the Meadow-Brook Girls and
Earlington Disbrow dawned clear and cool, though the weather gave promise
of being much hotter—in fact, the Weather Bureau had promised the hottest
wave of the summer thus far, which the management of the tournament
advanced as an added reason why every one should come to the seashore for
the Coast Tennis Tournament.

The girls, in no way cast down by the doubts expressed by their
instructor, were still full of determination to win or go down with
colors flying to the breeze. That was the Meadow-Brook spirit. Now that
each girl had been assigned her partner, the two teams got together and
planned out the methods to be used by each of the two teams—in fact,
planned everything that could be planned. It was the first public
appearance of any of the girls of the Meadow-Brook camp, hence their
behavior when they found themselves on the courts was still an unknown
quantity. However, instead of worrying over their ordeal the girls had a
lively round at their own net early in the morning before breakfast, then
a cold bath, after which they were ready for breakfast.

They were alone, that morning, for breakfast, and enjoyed themselves very
much. Only Tommy appeared to be nervous, but she soon forgot this in
talking about the cup that she confidently believed would be in their
possession on the following day.

They were not to play any more until after they had returned from the
singles that were to be run off on this, the first day of the tournament.
Mr. Disbrow they would not see again until they had reached the
tournament grounds, but George and at least one of his companions were
coming over to accompany Miss Elting and the girls to the tournament. The
girls were looking forward to the arrival of their own parents, all
except Harriet Burrell, who thought her father and mother would not be
present. In a way she was glad of it, though she knew she should miss
them, that she would give almost anything were they able to see her play
and enjoy the proud distinction which she hoped and believed would come
to her and her companions. But she was wise enough to keep nothing on her
mind from that time until the end of the games, save the games
themselves.

They repaired to the tennis grounds about an hour before the calling of
the games. None of the girls shared the comforts of the grand stand. They
preferred to be on the ground, where they could stroll about, where they
could be close enough to watch and learn. That they did learn a great
deal that day they admitted later on, for there were some excellent sets
played in the singles. During the morning Mr. Disbrow came to them with a
copy of the “draw” which had been made that morning, showing the
assignments of the teams for the preliminary games in the doubles. The
Meadow-Brook Girls perused the list eagerly.

“Oh, listen to this! Jane and Hazel play the Riversides first,” cried
Harriet excitedly; “and, Tommy, you and I are listed to play our first
match against the Fifth Avenues. That is what will happen if both these
teams win in their preliminary matches, which, of course, they are bound
to do. I don’t like to have to sit and wait until those preliminaries are
over, but some one must do it, I suppose. Some one always has to suffer
for another person’s gain.”

“I am well pleased that both of you do not have to meet the top-notchers
the first thing,” said Mr. Disbrow. “The meeting with a team nearer your
own class will give you a chance to get a notch or two higher than you
might otherwise attain. Miss Burrell and Miss Thompson will have an added
disadvantage. They must try to profit by your experience.”

“Mr. Dithbrow, may I thay thomething perthonal?” asked Tommy sweetly.

“Yes, certainly.”

“Then I will thay it. You are a regular calamity howler. I thaid you were
one of thothe perthonth who had to be thhown. Wait until to-morrow and
we’ll thhow you.”

The Englishman doffed his hat politely.

“I think you are right, but perhaps I have had a motive in saying those
things that you call ‘calamity howling.’ However, I shall explain what I
mean after the games to-morrow. Watch this set; it is going to be a good
one.”

“Are either of the top-notchers whom we are to meet playing in the
singles?” whispered Harriet.

“No. Like yourselves, they are lying low and conserving their energies.
The Scott Sisters I have not seen, nor the other two teams we have spoken
of. I don’t know that any of them are on the grounds, though I presume
they are.”

During the next hour there was little opportunity for conversation. The
play held the attention of the Meadow-Brook Girls, Mr. Disbrow remaining
near them, now and then calling their attention to improper plays or some
particularly fine bit of playing that he wished them to impress upon
their minds.

A very large crowd of people was in attendance; a greater attendance,
even, was looked for on the morrow. Every player had hosts of friends to
cheer for her and to shout encouraging words between the sets. The games
were run off quickly, only two sets being long-drawn out when skilful
players found themselves opposed to each other. Even these were limited
to half an hour’s playing. The playing day ended about three o’clock in
the afternoon, some contestants having made a miserable showing, others
having shown such form as gave promise of future successes.

Mr. Disbrow went to camp to take dinner with the Meadow-Brook Girls as
well as to watch their practice, which was to take place immediately upon
their return to camp. He did not compliment them on their work that
afternoon, but before leaving them that night he said:

“Remember, no work to-morrow morning. Sleep as late as you can
comfortably and do not lie awake thinking of to-morrow. Time enough to
think when you are before the net. Just try to imagine that it is a
practice game with your humble instructor on the side lines ready to
criticise you sharply for any shortcomings he may observe. Try to think,
too, that there is nothing worth while at stake, even if you do not win
out.”

“Yeth, there ith,” objected Tommy. “There ith a cup at thtake. I call
that thomething.”

“I may look in on you after breakfast to see that you are all in working
order,” continued Disbrow. “George, as the manager of the team, I would
suggest that you see Herrington at nine o’clock in the morning to see
that there are no changes in the arrangements. Miss Elting, it will be
for you and Miss Brown to look after the physical comfort of the young
ladies when they come in from the sets. You understand what to do, being
an athlete yourself.”

The guardian nodded understandingly.

“Then, good-bye until to-morrow. Remember!” He shook a warning finger at
the girls.

“We shall not forget,” answered Harriet simply.

“I feel,” said Tommy, after he had gone, “jutht ath though I were going
to jail to-morrow. Thuppothe—thuppothe a girl thhould defeat me and I
thhould throw my racquet at her and hit her on the nothe—would they thend
me to jail for that?”

“Tommy!” exclaimed Harriet, “how can you say such a thing?”

“I can thay it all right. What I want to know ith may I do it, if I want
to?”

“You most certainly may not,” answered Miss Elting sternly.

“Then I won’t,” decided the little girl.

“I should say you won’t,” returned Harriet, breaking out into a merry
peal of laughter.

The boys remained in the camp for an hour after the departure of Mr.
Disbrow, when they, too, prepared to go to their own camp. George
promised that the boys would be over early. In the meantime the dressing
tent would be pitched and made ready for them, so that the girls might go
directly to their dressing tent from their camp. There they could rest
until they were called for their turn, all of which George would attend
to personally, removing any necessity for worry about arrangements.

The boys bade their friends good night, shaking hands with each girl and
the guardian before leaving, then strode away in the darkness. The girls
retired very shortly after the departure of the boys. All were weary, nor
did they feel much like talking that evening. Miss Elting kissed each of
them good night, and within fifteen minutes every Meadow-Brook girl was
sound asleep. Healthy minds and healthy bodies had much to do with this.

Late that night, well past midnight, Harriet was awakened by the sound of
thunder. As she opened her eyes a vivid flash of lightning caused her to
close them again sharply. She got up quietly and secured the tent flap,
then crawled back under her blanket. The rain was not long in coming. A
heavy shower fell. She wondered if this would prevent the game on the
morrow, but she was too sleepy to dwell long on the thought, and dropped
into a doze a moment later.

The awakening from that doze was a sudden one. The wind was blowing and
the rain causing a great commotion in the foliage of the trees, when all
at once one side of the tent tilted up. The whole stretch of canvas was
suddenly lifted from them and hurled against a tree trunk, about which
the wet canvas wrapped itself.

In almost an instant the Meadow-Brook Girls were soaked to the skin. They
sprang up with cries of alarm. The night was very dark, except when a
flash of lightning lighted up the deserted field that only a few hours
before had been peopled with pleasure-lovers.

“Thave me!” cried little Tommy shrilly.

“What’s the matter? Oh, I’m getting wet,” groaned Margery.

“Nothing is the matter—not with us. It’s the tent that is in trouble. The
wind has blown it over, that’s all,” answered Harriet calmly.

“Keep your blankets around you. You simply must not get wet,” commanded
the guardian. “Oh, this is too bad—and on the night before the
tournament,” she added under her breath with a little groan, unheard by
her charges. For an hour they sat shivering, wet to the skin, unable to
do a thing to help themselves until the wind and rain had ceased.




                              CHAPTER XXII
                          AN EXCITING MORNING


It was not an encouraging situation. Within a few hours the four girls
were to enter upon the most momentous undertaking of their lives,—an
undertaking that would require them to be in fit physical condition, with
clear heads, alert and supple in limb. And here they sat in a blinding
rainstorm with nothing more substantial than their blankets between them
and the heavy downpour.

“There will be no game for you girls to-morrow,” groaned Margery Brown,
dismally.

“If there is a game, we shall play,” answered Harriet.

“What shall we do?” cried Jane. “We’ll all catch cold!”

“When the rain stops we shall put the tent up again,” returned Harriet
Burrell. “That question is easily answered, but answering is the easiest
part of it. The worst feature of it is that all our clothes will be out
of shape and unfit to wear in the morning.”

“We shall have to make the best of it,” said the guardian.

“We will iron them in the morning,” replied Harriet. “We must, for the
sake of our friends, make a half-way decent appearance. You saw how neat
and well groomed all the players looked to-day. With our dark clothes it
will be even more difficult to make ourselves presentable.”

“I withh the boyth were here,” lisped Tommy.

“I don’t. We are perfectly able to take care of ourselves. What we must
wish for is the rain to cease.”

No signs of its doing so were observable. They sat, dismal and forlorn,
wrapped in their blankets, each girl sitting in a puddle of water, for
there was no floor in their tent.

Harriet soon saw that remaining as they were might be attended with
serious results. She urged the girls to get up and walk about, which
suggestion the guardian seconded. Then for the next hour they walked back
and forth, keeping well out in the open field, fearing that were they to
take refuge under the trees they might be struck by lightning.

About three o’clock in the morning the rain suddenly stopped. Soon after
that the clouds broke away and the stars came out. The faint light of the
coming day enabled them to see with some distinctness.

“Now for the tent, girls,” cried Harriet. “I wish we had a fire or a
lantern. But we shall have light from the skies soon. Help me spread the
tent on the ground and straighten it out, Jane, dear.”

While they were doing this the other girls were placing their belongings
on higher ground.

“Oh, joy!” shouted Hazel. “All our dresses were in the chest. Who put
them there?”

“I did,” answered Tommy. “I have thenthe thometimeth.”

A weak cheer greeted this announcement. Their dresses were dry, after
all. Much of their trouble being thus banished the girls’ spirits rose,
and soon thereafter they were laughing and chattering, unmindful of their
bedraggled and thoroughly uncomfortable condition.

Suddenly Jane McCarthy uttered a cry.

“The ropes are broken—broken right off near the stakes, I should judge,”
she called excitedly.

“That is strange,” replied Harriet. “The ropes are too strong to break so
easily. The stakes would have pulled up before the ropes would break. Let
me see.”

Harriet took the end of a guy-rope that Jane extended toward her, and
looked at it closely. She ran to where the tent had been pitched and
began tugging at a stake, which came up after no little effort on her
part. This stake she carried back to Jane and held it before her
companion, a piece of the broken rope dangling from it.

“See, Jane?”

“Well, darlin’, didn’t I tell you? The rope broke off just as I said.”

“You are mistaken, Jane, dear.”

“Eh, what?” exclaimed Jane. “Then what did happen to it?”

“The rope didn’t break off, at least not wholly so. It has been cut
nearly in two with a sharp knife. I presume we shall find the other ropes
in a similar condition. Whoever did it must have known that a storm was
coming and thought that the first good puff of wind would leave us
without a roof over our heads. Now, what do you think of that, Jane
McCarthy?”

“The miserable cowards!” raged Jane. “Miss Elting!”

The others of the party were quickly made acquainted with what Harriet
had discovered. Then there followed an immediate examination of the other
guy-ropes, all being found partly severed by a knife. The uneven, stringy
ends showed where the break had come when the wind blew hard enough to
part them.

This was a new element of discomfort and mystery.

“I can’t understand who would do such a thing,” pondered Harriet Burrell.

“The boys wouldn’t play that trick on us, would they?” questioned
Margery.

“Indeed they would not. This is not fun; this is malice, nothing less,”
declared Harriet. “I am afraid we have enemies here, girls, but whoever
they are we are going to triumph over them to-morrow, even if we have to
go to the courts soaked to the skin and out of condition as the result of
our night’s experiences.”

The light was now strong enough to enable them to make out objects about
them quite clearly. They examined the ground. They found the imprint of
boots in the soft turf all around where the tent had stood, but whether
these had been made by one of the boys or by their midnight visitor they
were unable to say. They were strongly inclined to the opinion that it
was the enemy who had put them in such a plight.

“I don’t think we shall put up the tent now,” said Miss Elting, after
reflection. “It is now nearly daylight. The boys will be along soon. They
will set the camp to rights. There go two of them now to put up the
dressing tent. Whoo-e-e-e!”

Sam and Dill Dodd halted at the hail. They saw instantly that something
was wrong at the Meadow-Brook camp and came over at a trot. The situation
was explained in a few words. Sam started on a run for his own camp to
inform George Baker, and in an almost incredibly short time George came
in sight with Sam Crocker trailing along a few rods behind him.

The girls had never seen George in a rage before. But his rage took a
different form from what they might have expected. His face was very pale
and his voice was so calm as to be almost gentle. Yet there was a note of
restraint in it, of enforced control, that told the girls he was laboring
under great excitement.

“Sam, skate back and tell the fellows to get our tent in shape. Tell them
the girls will be along in a few moments,” he ordered, and Sam went
obediently.

“But——” protested Harriet.

“You are going to our camp to turn in, all of you. Miss Elting, you will
see that they go to bed and get some rest, won’t you?”

“Yes; thank you very much.”

“Let me see. The grounds are wet this morning. I do not think the games
will be called much before eleven o’clock. You may safely sleep until
nine o’clock. That will give you two hours in which to get ready. If
there is any change in the time I will have you called earlier or later
as needed, so don’t worry one little bit. This ground is too wet for you
to sleep on, that is why I am sending you to our camp.”

“What are you planning to do, put up our tent?” questioned Miss Elting.

“After the ground dries off, yes. Just now I am going to see Jack
Herrington, then call on P. E. How do the girls seem to be feeling?”
George lowered his voice so that only the guardian might hear.

“In excellent condition, I should say. You know a little wetting doesn’t
disturb them very much. I hope they play the games to-day. The grounds
will be wet and somehow I believe our girls will make a better showing on
soft, soggy grounds than on a smooth, hard court.”

“I’ve been thinking of that myself,” answered George confidentially.
“Well, so long for a few hours. I have business on hand this morning,
being business manager of the Meadow-Brook team. Sounds important,
doesn’t it? May not sound so important to-morrow.”

George started across the field. His chin was lowered almost to his chest
and he was raging inwardly at the indignity put upon the Meadow-Brook
Girls. He would see to it that nothing of the sort occurred again. He
censured himself because he had not thrown a guard about the camp on the
evening before the battle. It was too late now for regrets. The one great
question now uppermost in the minds of a hundred or more persons besides
himself was, who was going to win the doubles?

So far as George Baker was able to judge, the Scott Sisters were slated
for this victory. Disbrow agreed with him, basing his judgment on what he
had heard of the sisters and what he had seen of the Meadow-Brook Girls.
Harriet and her companions, as the reader already knows, were confident
of a great victory. The odds seemed to be heavily against them, however;
hard luck certainly was on their side, as the incidents of the night just
past plainly indicated.

Jack Herrington was very angry when he learned what had happened to the
ambitious girls, but there was nothing he could do except promise to see
to it that the guilty one would be punished, provided he were ever
caught, which seemed doubtful. Mr. Disbrow shook his head sadly. He said
the effects of that wetting might not show until the girls were on the
court, but that they would surely suffer from it.

The tournament was not to be postponed. It was to be started at ten
o’clock in the morning, even if the courts were not dry. The sky was
still overcast and the sun had not yet come out, though the air was
sultry and close.

George sent a messenger to the Tramp Boys to have the girls called at
eight o’clock and to tell them the games would be called on time. The
active young man visited the courts, there to stand stroking his chin as
he looked over the battle ground reflectively, consulted the skies,
decided in his own mind which would be the favorable end of the courts
with reference to the sun in case his side won the choice of sides. He
considered everything, showing that Captain George Baker was a
long-headed young man well worthy to be the leader of the band of hardy
lads whose commander he was.

While he was thus engaged, two young women clad in raincoats, their heads
enveloped in the hoods of the coats, came out on the field. They appeared
to be very much interested in the courts, which they tested by stepping
on them, taking note of the slipperiness, the stickiness and other
features of the courts, they shook their heads disapprovingly. George
decided that they were players—players, too, who appeared to know their
business. Once they had whispered together while looking at him. He knew
they were speaking of him, which made the young man rather ill at ease.
He watched them leave the field. Asking one of the men who had come to
work on the courts who these young women were, Captain Baker learned that
they were the Scott Sisters, which information did not tend to strengthen
his hopes for his team.

There being nothing more to be done, George went back to his own camp,
where he knew breakfast would be awaiting him. The other lads had put up
the dressing tent and were now carrying in boards for a floor, the ground
being too wet to be used as a floor.

It was nearly eight o’clock when the captain reached his camp. He found
the girls up and dressed. They greeted him brightly, but he thought there
was something forced in their gayety. The captain did not blame them for
this. They were laboring under a great strain—in fact, the greatest they
had ever experienced.

Before eating breakfast the team took a limbering-up exercise, consisting
of forward and backward bends, skipping the rope, a rapid round with
half-pound dumb bells, wrist exercises with light Indian clubs, and other
exercises calculated to put in condition every muscle in their bodies.
They went through their morning work without a hitch, finishing with
flushed faces and sparkling eyes.

“Oh, it is good to be alive, even if one had to sit in a puddle of water
most of the night,” declared Harriet, as they sat down to breakfast. “Eat
sparingly, girls, and chew your food well. That was Mr. Disbrow’s advice.
We are to have some dry biscuit to nibble if we feel hungry.”

Margery and Miss Elting had taken an earlier breakfast and hurried over
to the Meadow-Brook camp to gather up the necessary articles for the
battle. These were packed in a chest which the boys carried to the
dressing tent, one of them remaining on guard over the stuff. George did
not propose to have their mysterious enemy playing any more tricks.

At nine o’clock they started for the battle ground. The sun had come out
broiling hot, the ground was steaming, the air full of humidity, a most
depressing condition for those who were to participate in the great
tennis match.

“I feel ath though I were going to a funeral,” declared Tommy dismally,
as they plodded along over the wet turf.




                             CHAPTER XXIII
                           A MEMORABLE BATTLE


As the Meadow-Brook Girls neared the grounds they saw that great throngs
were there, while a constant stream of spectators poured across the
field. Now that the sun had come out, nearly every one was dressed in
white. The stand was still nearly empty, the seats there being sold by
numbers, making it unnecessary for the ticket holders to come early in
order to get a seat.

George was waiting for the girls at their tent, to which they went
directly and, disappearing within, were seen no more until Jane and Hazel
were called for their match. Their entrance had attracted no attention,
however, as little was known concerning them.

“How are the courts?” was Harriet’s first question.

“Slippery as a skating rink,” answered George.

“It is as fair for one as another,” reflected Harriet, nodding. “I don’t
know that I mind it particularly. Not very nice for white shoes, though,
is it?”

“Now you may go out,” said the guardian. “We must get the girls ready. I
will let you know as soon as we have finished.”

George promptly stepped outside. In front of the tent stood Charlie Mabie
on guard. George directed him to permit no one to come near the tent
until the guardian had notified him they were ready, and then only the
friends of the party. There was little left to be done in the dressing.
They took off their muddy shoes, putting on tennis shoes in place of the
others.

There was but little talking in the dressing tent, but outside a great
wave of conversation rose, reaching the tent in a confused murmur. The
girls were rather pale, but this might be the result of the trying night
through which they had passed. Harriet pulled herself together and began
a series of cheerful remarks. She soon had her companions laughing, and
by the time they had finished their preparations the color had returned
to their faces and each had found her voice.

Mr. Disbrow was their first caller. He turned Harriet toward the light
that shone through the tent opening and gazed quizzically down into her
eyes.

“Just a wee bit nervous, eh? You will get over that when you get to work.
It is perfectly natural. Everyone feels nervous before going into a
tournament. Why, when I am going into a match I am so nervous that I
can’t talk without breaking down, but the moment I feel the grip of the
racquet in my hand and see the net before me I want to shout for joy. Ah,
life is worth while when you are facing a hard-hitter across the net, and
there leaps into your heart a savage determination to drive him from the
court, a defeated man. Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way.
Sometimes you are the fellow who gets driven off, but it is the spirit,
almost as much as the skill, that wins games. No one with a faint heart
ever won anything except defeat.”

“Have you theen that beautiful cup thith morning?” questioned Tommy
eagerly.

“No, I did not come over that way,” answered P. E. laughingly.

“I hope it ith thtill there,” was the little girl’s anxious remark.

“You may depend upon it. Later in the day it will be brought over to the
grounds so that it may serve as an encouragement to the contestants.
Don’t lose yourself gazing at it while you are playing,” he warned
jokingly.

“Have you seen the other teams?” asked the guardian.

“Yes, they are thick as flies on a summer’s day. They are literally
swarming about the place. But there will be a thinning out soon. I was
not misinformed regarding the Scott Sisters. They are fine championship
material.”

“Aren’t we?” demanded Harriet quickly.

“You will be in time.”

“Yeth, in about two hourth from now,” answered Tommy. “But I do withh I
wath not tho weak in my kneeth. Why, do you think, am I tho weak in my
kneeth, Mr. Dithbrow?”

“You imagine that. Forget all about it. Think of the beautiful cup and
the weakness will leave your knees,” he advised.

“Yeth, I have notithed that. I——”

“Time to go out,” called George cheerily, poking his head into the tent.
“All fit and fine, I see. There’s going to be some lively work pretty
soon. Jack Herrington says this is going to be a rattling tournament. You
know where your courts are. Now go in and win. Good luck to the
Meadow-Brook Girls.”

“We are going to,” answered Harriet Burrell, but her voice, though having
lost none of its determination, seemed rather weak to Captain Baker.

Already the teams were taking their places in their respective courts and
an air of tense expectancy was beginning to be noticeable over the great
throng of spectators. It was all confusion to the girls. They did not
appear to see any one individually, and in their ears was that confused
murmur that they had heard while in their tent.

George led Jane and Hazel to their respective courts, Miss Elting and
Disbrow accompanying them at a short distance behind. The trim figures of
the Meadow-Brook Girls clad in their dark blue serge uniforms attracted
no little attention as the two stepped into the courts where they were to
play. Pressing close against the ropes, anxiously twirling their hats in
their hands, were the boys of the Tramp Club, so nervous that they could
scarcely control themselves. Harriet and Tommy also came out to watch
this first match of their companions.

The linesmen were in their places at the sides of the courts, the referee
sat in his high chair, where he commanded a clear view of the court over
which he was to make decisions. Tommy laughed and poked Harriet in the
ribs with her racquet.

“Doethn’t he look funny in hith high chair?” she chuckled. “Jutht like a
baby. They ought to give him a bib and tucker.”

“Sh-h-h-h!” The referee was instructing the players as to what was
expected of them. This finished, the sides tossed for the courts and
service. In the case of the Meadow-Brook team the toss was won by their
opponents, giving the opponents the service, the right to serve the first
ball, a considerable advantage and one that frequently leads to victory.

The team opposed to Hazel and Jane were Miss Sprague and Miss Collins,
the famous Riversides. Each girl was larger than either Hazel or her
teammate, but to Disbrow’s keen eyes the two Riverside girls did not
appear to be in the fittest condition. They were a little too stout, it
seemed to him.

“Play!” called the referee.

Jane and Hazel stood in position, Jane apparently all ready to return the
first ball that went over the net. Disbrow uttered a sigh of relief as he
saw the lack of force with which Miss Sprague served the ball. Surely his
pupil would send it back in the approved “smashing” manner. But Jane
stood as if rooted to the spot; her first experience of playing before a
crowd of onlookers had given her an unprecedented attack of “stage
fright.” She partially recovered when the ball was on its second bounce,
but then it was too late, for the Meadow-Brooks had lost the first point.
And so it was throughout the six games that followed. Both Hazel and Jane
played more like wooden automatons than like the strong, agile girls they
were known to be. Their opponents were weak players, but they had entered
tournaments before and therefore had more self-confidence than the
Meadow-Brook Girls. In nearly every game either Jane or Hazel would
manage to get a point or two, but Miss Sprague and her partner succeeded
in getting six games before Disbrow’s pupils had won any, and therefore
were credited with the first set of the match.

The Tramp Boys had cheered the girls whenever they had the slightest
excuse, but they were too despondent to offer any real encouragement to
the defeated teammates as they made their weary way to the dressing tent
for a seven minutes’ rest. Even Disbrow could not conceal his
disappointment, for he knew the Meadow-Brook team had not played as well
as they had done in practice. Jane realized this, too, and just before
they reached the court for the second set she whispered to Hazel in a
very decided tone, “This set we _must_ win. You know perfectly well that
we can play better than those girls. If we lose, it will be a disgrace to
Mr. Disbrow, and if we make use of all he has so patiently taught us, we
shall not lose. Come on, let’s ‘thhow’ him, as Tommy would say.”

The next set told a very different story. Miss Collins and Miss Sprague
had become over-confident because they had won the first set so easily;
the Meadow-Brook spirit had asserted itself once more, with the result
that Jane and Hazel had three games to their credit almost before they
knew it. The Tramp Boys were yelling with delight, but the Englishman’s
team were so intent on the business at hand that they were hardly
conscious of the din. The second set they won easily, the final score
being 6-2 in their favor. In the third decisive set of the match every
point marked a long struggle, and the Riversides had to fight for every
point they gained. The games stood 5-2 in their favor when Jane caught
sight of Disbrow’s tense, excited face and tightly clasped hands. That
was enough.

“Remember P. E.,” she whispered to Hazel, and thereafter they played with
such vim that they brought the score up to 5-5 or deuce. Wild yells from
onlookers greeted this feat. However, the longer training and greater
poise of the Riversides told in the end, for in their eagerness to return
one of the balls, Jane and Hazel both rushed for it, collided in the
middle of the court, and the ball passed swiftly by them.

“Game and set for the Riversides!” called out the referee.

Recovering quickly from their collision, Hazel and Jane jumped gracefully
over the net and shook hands with their opponents, almost before any one
realized that the match was over.

When the Meadow-Brook Girls made their way back to the tent this time
they heard congratulations for their plucky playing on all sides, and
friendly sympathy for their bad luck. Disbrow was delighted with the
showing they had made, and as he had not expected them to win, he was
really proud of his team.

While Jane and Hazel had been playing, the Fifth Avenues were giving a
fine exhibition of their skill in a preliminary match. Harriet and Tommy
watched with great interest, for they were to play the winners.

“Game and set for the Fifth Avenues,” announced the referee.

“In fifteen minutes the ‘running up’ matches will be played, the Scott
Sisters _vs._ The Riversides, and the Fifth Avenues _vs._ The
Meadow-Brooks,” Mr. Herrington then announced.

“That means you and me, Tommy,” whispered Harriet.

“Yeth, I know it doeth. But what did he mean by the ‘running up’
matches’?”

“Mr. Disbrow explained that to me a few minutes ago. The two teams that
win these matches play against each other for the cup. Therefore, those
three teams and we are ‘running up’ for the cup.”

“And we are going to win it, too, aren’t we?”

“Indeed, we are, for the sake of P. E. and the Tramp Boys, if not for our
own,” Harriet declared as they made their way to the court.

__“Play!” called the referee.

“Are you ready?” asked the Fifth Avenue girl who had won the right to
serve the first ball.

“Yes,” replied Harriet.

Harriet being the striker-out, it was her duty first to permit the ball
to strike the ground, taking it on its first bound and return it into the
opposite court. The service ball had been served with great swiftness, it
seemed, whereas, as a matter of fact, it was not coming nearly as fast as
Harriet had thought. The ball dropped into her court not far from the
net. Harriet saw at once that she had misjudged the serve and that she
must make a quick move.

She ran quickly and leaning slightly forward started to scoop the ball up
and return it, when suddenly both feet slipped out from under her.
Harriet measured her full length on the ground, falling flat on her face,
sliding along the slippery court until she plunged head-first into the
net.

A shout went up from the spectators. The Tramp Boys groaned. They wished
themselves miles away. Miss Elting’s face grew suddenly pale.

“Fifteen-love,” droned the referee. Harriet’s opponent had scored the
first point. Harriet got up. She was covered with brown mud from head to
feet, a good bit of it on her face. Never had she suffered the
humiliation that was hers at that moment. Tommy had not uttered a sound.
She was aghast with amazement.

The play went on, but not a point had been scored by Harriet and her
partner when the announcement fell from the lips of the referee:

“Love game.”

“Isn’t it awful!” groaned Sam Crocker.

The second game was a repetition of the first except that Harriet did not
fall down. It was a love game in favor of their opponents.

“It’s all over,” declared Dill when they began the third game.

“It’s our last chance, Tommy. We _must_ win the rest of the set. See!
They’ve brought the cup here,” said Harriet.

The cup stood out in the bright sunlight a vivid flame. Tommy gasped. It
was an inspiration to her.

“Yeth,” she breathed in awe of the beautiful sight.

They began to play. Harriet Burrell did not fall down. She was on her
mettle. All the determination that she possessed had been summoned to the
task before her. She was a different person. Tommy, inspired by the sight
of the beautiful trophy, was a different girl, too.

Their opponents won the first two games, but Harriet and Tommy gave
evidence of their splendid training and spirit by winning the next two.

“Two-all,” called the referee, and so the score went see-sawing back and
forth until it was deuce, and finally 6-5 in favor of the Meadow-Brooks.

“Drive them out,” urged Harriet. She returned the server’s stroke,
putting the ball into her opponents’ court, where neither of them
succeeded in hitting it.

The decisive game now stood forty-thirty, leaving the Meadow-Brook team
but one point to go. This Harriet made by a puzzling “floater,” a slow
ball that fell in the opposite court far out of reach.

“Game!” announced the referee. “Seven minutes’ rest at the end of third.”

For a moment the Tramp Boys were silent. They were scarcely able to
believe their eyes. Then the boys tossed their hats in the air and
uttered a great shout.

“Splendid!” cried Disbrow. “Keep on that way and you will win the match.
If you do, it will have been a magnificent thing after the awful start
you made.”

Miss Elting’s eyes were shining happily.

“Girls, do you know who the Scott Sisters are?” she cried. “Oh, you can’t
imagine! Your opponents are Patricia Scott and her sister!”

“Really!” was Harriet’s sharp exclamation.

“Yes, the same Patricia Scott who was dismissed from Camp Wau-Wau because
of her enmity for you and her disgraceful treatment of you. She saw you
girls, too. She knows all about our being entered.”

Harriet and Jane glanced at each other. There was the same thought in the
mind of each. Patricia, or her friends, had had something to do with the
cutting of the tent ropes. But neither girl voiced her suspicion at the
moment. They were called back to the court almost immediately. But in
Harriet Burrell’s mind was a stronger determination than ever to win
until she came face to face with Patricia Scott across the tennis net,
provided Patricia were still playing, which seemed more than likely, for
the Scott Sisters were playing a magnificent game.

The story of the next set of the match is briefly told. Harriet and Tommy
played three strong games, not perfect games by any manner of means, but
Disbrow, who was watching their every movement with the eyes of an
expert, saw that they were coming up magnificently. Each succeeding game
was played better than the previous one.

“Set and match for the Meadow-Brook Girls,” called the referee, in
stentorian tones.

The Tramp Boys were beside themselves with joy. Regardless of time or
place, they uttered a series of blood-curdling war whoops.

But there was little time for congratulation. The Scott Sisters had won
their match, and therefore would be pitted against Harriet and Tommy in
the final match of the tournament. Fifteen minutes were allowed each team
to recuperate.

The Tramp Boys were becoming worked up to a pitch of enthusiasm that
threatened the temporary loss of their reason. Sam suddenly made a
discovery. A young man in a white suit was seen talking with the Scott
Sisters. There was something very familiar about his appearance. Sam drew
near. When the man left the two girls, Sam followed him until the young
man reached a secluded place at the end of the grand stand.

“You are the fellow who hit me on the nose!” he hissed. “Put up your
hands! I am going to pay my debts.”

When Samuel Crocker had finished with the stranger the white suit was
sadly stained with mud, and the young man’s own nose was in need of
repairs. The fellow fled from the field, while Sam returned triumphantly
to his companions, one eye blackened, his hair standing up, but his heart
full of unholy joy. He felt that he had wiped out two scores instead of
one.

The ranks of the players were thinning. It was well along in the
afternoon now. Players moved about wearily. Their feet were not nearly so
light as when the work of the day had begun and there were many
disappointed faces to be seen. As for the Meadow-Brook Girls, instead of
growing weary, they plainly were gaining in strength. Perhaps their
success was largely responsible for this. But their endurance was
undeniable. Still, the work of the day was far from done, the
championship a long way off, for the team that had been picked to win
were still to be beaten.

Enthusiasm was running high. The Meadow-Brook Girls had by this time
become very prominent. They were nearing the blazing cup which had served
as Tommy’s inspiration and which seemed almost within reach now. But
there remained the other team, before which everything had gone down. It
seemed hopeless for Harriet and her slender, excitable little companion
to hope to win against the hard-hitting, quick-footed, skilful Scott
Sisters.

“They can’t do it,” declared Disbrow. “But even if they do not, they have
won second place. That alone I should think ought to be triumph enough
for any team that has been on the court only five weeks. Oh, this is
splendid! It’s glorious!”

Harriet overheard. Her eyes lighted up for a moment and, catching Mr.
Disbrow’s eyes, she smiled. Then, nudging Tommy, she moved toward the
center court, where the final game was to be played. Only Tommy, Harriet
and the Scott Sisters were left now. All the other courts were deserted
with the exception of number five, on which a series of consolation games
were to be played by the losers. But there was little interest in these.
The great and absorbing interest was for number one court. The two teams
were loudly cheered when they appeared at the court where the finals were
to be played.

The Scott girls, smiling, confident, but plainly weary from the
hard-fought battles of the day, entered the court. Patricia Scott jeered
audibly as Harriet entered the opposite court and faced her.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have met you earlier in the day,” she said
sneeringly.

“I share your regret,” answered Harriet calmly. “But better late than
never. I am going to defeat you if I can, Patricia, and I think I can. If
you win this match you will earn it, and so shall we if we win.”

Patricia tossed her head in the air and stepped back, an angry light in
her eyes.

“Some bad blood there,” said a spectator who had overheard.

“Steady,” warned the voice of Mr. Disbrow from the side lines.

Harriet nodded, but did not turn her head. She was watching her
opponents, studying their every move, planning.

“Play!” commanded the referee.

Then began the game that was to be talked of for many a day thereafter by
those who had been fortunate enough to watch it.




                              CHAPTER XXIV
                               CONCLUSION


Patricia served. Tommy returned it, whereupon Patricia sent a ball which
Tommy failed to reach.

“Fifteen love,” announced the referee. The Scott Sisters had won the
first point easily.

“Look alive!” snapped Harriet, cutting her words off short. “Keep the cup
in mind, but don’t look at it.”

The Scott Sisters took another point; then the tide changed. The
Meadow-Brook Girls made two points in succession. The score stood at
thirty-all. Then the latter gave a point to their opponents by a winning
cross-court volley made by Patricia’s sister. Harriet earned the next
point for the Meadow-Brooks by driving a terrific ball straight at
Patricia Scott. The ball hit her squarely on the left eye, bounded back
and came to rest in her court before she realized what had occurred. The
spectators uttered a shout.

The two teams were tied at deuce. Harriet began speeding up, but took two
long chances and faulted two points to her opponents. The Scott Sisters
had won the first game of the set, but there had been no lack of
excitement. They had secured the necessary two points after the score had
stood at deuce, or three points each.

Excitement ran high. There could be no doubt that here were two _real_
teams. About this time the word began to be passed about that the
Meadow-Brook Girls had never played a real game of tennis up to about
five weeks before the tournament. It was inconceivable. But by the time
the Scott Sisters had won the first set, Tommy was showing a little
weariness and welcomed the seven minutes’ rest granted to both teams.

Encouraged by Mr. Disbrow, and still determined to have the cup, the
Meadow-Brooks won the second set after a bitter fight. They walked
briskly to their tent amid the cheers and shouts of the spectators. In
the tent they were fanned, their faces bathed, their mouths rinsed with
water—they were not permitted to drink—then once more they were called
forth to what all believed was to be a great battle. If anything, Harriet
Burrell was fresher, stronger than at any time since she had begun
playing in the tournament, but it was too much to hope that she and Tommy
could ever stand up under the cruel grilling of the Scott Sisters, who
seemed to know every trick that was known to tennis players. Tommy and
Harriet would do well to earn second place.

P. Earlington Disbrow’s face was pale, his hair was rumpled, his fingers
were open and closing nervously, while little beads of perspiration stood
out on his forehead.

The next set was a fight from start to finish. The Meadow-Brooks went at
it aggressively. They hammered the Scott Sisters, giving them such a
grilling as those two players had never experienced. Twice during the one
game Patricia had been made a target for Harriet’s ball, twice had
Patricia been struck in the face, unable to dodge in time to avoid, or to
hit the ball the way it came to her. She appealed angrily to the referee,
only to be informed that if she could not keep out of the way of the ball
she must expect to be hit. As a point was scored for her opponent each
time the ball touched her person or her clothing, Patricia naturally was
angry.

The Scott Sisters threw themselves savagely into their work. Some time
since they had learned the Meadow-Brook code of signals, as Harriet
quickly discovered. The code was abandoned then and there, but as she
played Harriet was devising a new scheme for outwitting their opponents.
Then to Harriet’s dismay she discovered that Tommy was giving out. Little
Tommy seemed to be withering. She was making a desperate effort to hide
her utter weariness, but the quick eyes of their opponents discovered
this fact very shortly after Harriet had done so.

“Favor yourself. I’ll take the bulk of the work,” flashed Harriet, when
near enough to speak without being overheard. The opposition having
observed that the little lisping girl was weakening began to hammer her,
volleying at her, hurling ground balls into her court, directing almost
their full attack at her.

Harriet, in making a run to her companion’s assistance, slipped, fell,
but was on her feet almost instantly. Miss Elting saw the girl twist her
face as if she were suffering great pain. Harriet limped a little.

“Oh, that _settles_ it!” groaned Disbrow.

But it was not settled yet. Game after game was played, first one side
getting the odd game then the other, and at every other game the score
went from advantage to deuce and back again. It was well-nigh impossible
to get the two games necessary to give the set to one side or the other.
The day was waning. Harriet Burrell and Tommy Thompson had been on the
courts for hours. Their opponents also had been playing fully as long,
but they were large and strong, while one of the Meadow-Brook partners
was slight and was fast becoming exhausted.

Harriet, by taking all of her partner’s work that she possibly could,
gave Tommy a little rest. The latter finally announced that she felt
strong enough to take her full share of the play. It was then that
Harriet tried the new plans she had been thinking out. She had observed
in all the playing that players always glanced quickly in the direction
they proposed to send the ball. This had been a great help to her in
deciding where an opponent’s ball was going. She tried the plan of
looking in the opposite direction just before she served a ball. The
effect exceeded her fondest expectations. The striker-out leaped the
wrong way the first time the trick was turned on her and Harriet scored a
point. From that on the trick was applied now and then and almost always
with success. Harriet’s lips were set tight all the time she played and
it was plain to those who knew her well that she was suffering great
pain, but from what they did not know.

The Scott Sisters were furious. Where they had confidently looked for an
easy victory, they found themselves fighting the greatest battle of their
lives. Three times they had been warned by the referee for violations of
the law, and, had the Meadow-Brook Girls demanded it, the game, under
these circumstances, would have gone to them. They made no such demand.
They proposed to fight it out to the bitter end. It was deuce, then
advantage, advantage, then deuce again and again. Would there be no end
to it? Each side determined that the next game should put an end to it.

“I am afraid Miss Thompson is too far gone for our wonderful girls to
win. But oh, what a magnificent battle!” cried Mr. Disbrow. Captain Baker
opened his mouth to reply, but was too overcome with emotion to do so.

“Tommy, _we must win this game_! Understand?” whispered Harriet.

Grace nodded weakly. They were advantage-in on games, being one game in
the lead. It now needed but a game to win the match for them, but it had
needed but one game to do that several times during this grilling battle.

“You play close to the net on your side. I will cover the court. If they
lob, I will try to get out in time to volley it back. Now do your best.
Remember the cup! Remember the beautiful cup, Tommy,” encouraged Harriet.

Tommy looked toward the cup, now turned to molten gold under the last
rays of the departing sun. Tommy uttered a little squeal and leaped up
into the air to meet a lob from her opponent, which she did so
successfully that she scored for her team.

“Good girl!” encouraged Harriet. “Keep them at the back of the—oh, that
was too bad,” as Patricia scored a point. The score in that game now
stood thirty-fifteen. The Scott Sisters gained another point over Tommy’s
fault, making the score thirty-all.

“Slow ball over the net,” commanded Harriet. Tommy obeyed and Tommy
scored. Patricia volleyed, then darted back near the baseline ready to
take a hard volley which she expected in return from Harriet, who was
going to make the return, or to run up in case of a drop-ball.

Harriet saw it all. It was a critical moment. Her plans were formed in a
second’s time. She sent a floater toward her opponent’s court. It hit the
net-band, the strip of white canvas on the upper edge of the net.
Patricia had darted forward just as Harriet knew she would, but as the
ball hit the net-band, Patricia stopped short and laughed. She thought
the ball had been played into the net and that it would fall back into
her opponent’s court, thus scoring a point for the Scott team.

Instead of doing so the tennis ball, after striking the net-band, hopped
over the net and dropped into Patricia Scott’s court, rolled along a few
feet toward the side-line and stopped. It was as neat a “net ball” as any
expert there had ever seen played.

“Game!” announced the referee. “The Meadow-Brook team wins.”

That was all. For a few seconds there was silence. The sun flashed out of
sight and the cup changed from gold to silver. Harriet limped toward the
net.

“Will you shake hands with me, Patricia?” she asked, with a wan smile.

“Only because I have to.” Patricia’s voice was low, and only Harriet
heard her add, “I hate you more than ever!” With that she hurried off the
court.

It seemed that up to that moment the spectators had not realized that the
game was over. Now it came to them with tremendous force.

The little serge-clad Meadow-Brook Girls, the girls who had had but five
weeks’ practice on the tennis court, had won one of the greatest amateur
matches that had ever been played on the Atlantic coast. A great,
explosive roar burst from the throats of the spectators.

P. Earlington Disbrow, forgetting that his sprained ankle was no longer
sprained, began hopping about like a rabbit. The boys fought their way
through the throngs that were almost mobbing them to get at the
victorious girls. They got them safely to the dressing tent, but as soon
as they were inside Harriet’s head had drooped and she leaned heavily on
Captain Baker’s shoulder.

“She’s fainted,” said George as they gently laid her down on a cot in the
dressing tent. Miss Elting and a pale-faced woman rushed into the tent at
this juncture. The latter threw herself down by the cot and gathered
Harriet into her arms. Tommy sat gasping on the floor while a girl in a
white sweater was bathing her face with cold water.

Harriet suddenly opened her eyes and looked into the face of the woman
who was holding her so tightly.

“Mother, O, Mother! is it you?” she breathed, with a sharp catch in her
voice.

“You fainted, but you are all right now. Oh, it was wonderful, but it was
terrible,” sobbed Mrs. Burrell.

“It was foolish in me to faint,” answered Harriet weakly. “I wouldn’t
have fainted, but I sprained my ankle more than an hour ago. It seemed as
if every step I took would kill me.”

Disbrow, with face now flushed, had been standing on one leg peering
anxiously in at Harriet and her friends.

“Do you hear, P. E.?” shouted George, rushing to him and shaking a fist
under Disbrow’s nose. “Do you hear that? She’s been playing on a sprained
ankle for more than an hour, and yet they won the cup! _They won the
cup!_ Lucky for me that my heart’s all right! Whoope-e-e!”

Word of this was quickly passed, and the people would not leave until
they had seen Harriet. She was carried out—the boys would not permit her
to step even on one foot—then as she slipped an arm about Tommy’s neck
and smiled bravely, another great shout went up. But now Jack Herrington
was pushing his way to them. In his hands he held the trophy they had
won, the much-coveted silver cup. He held up his hand for silence.

“It is my pleasure,” he said, “to present this handsome trophy to the
Meadow-Brook Girls. It has been fairly won, and that after the most
wonderful exhibition of pluck and endurance that it ever has been my good
fortune to witness. I congratulate you from my heart. I am proud of you,
proud of the honor that is mine, and hope we may meet again.”

The outburst that followed drowned his concluding words. It was at this
moment that Jane McCarthy came tearing up in her motor car, scattering
people to the right and to the left. The Meadow-Brook Girls were going
back to their camp to spend the night, then on the morrow they were going
home, bearing the precious trophy that Harriet and Tommy had won for
them. There was also a smaller cup that had been awarded to Jane and
Hazel, but the big trophy was the prize that overshadowed everything
else.

Immediately on their return to camp Harriet’s ankle was dressed by Miss
Elting, after the guardian had satisfied herself that no bones were
broken. The faithful Tramp Club had elected to remain on guard about the
Meadow-Brook camp that night. P. Earlington Disbrow also remained with
them and after supper both camps gathered in front of the tent for a
long, happy evening. In spite of her sprained ankle Harriet insisted on
making one of the party.

Sam, who had been pursuing diligent inquiries regarding the young man to
whom he had administered a well-merited beating, now informed them that
the spy was none other than the brother of the Scott Sisters, thus
verifying the suspicion in the minds of Jane and Harriet that Patricia
Scott was responsible for the cutting of their tent ropes. Jane cast a
triumphant glance toward Harriet while Sam was speaking, but the almost
imperceptible shake of Harriet’s head caused the impulsive Irish girl to
remain silent regarding Patricia’s past misdeeds.

It was late before the Meadow-Brook Girls said good night to the Tramp
Club and went into their tent and the boys stationed themselves outside
for their vigil.

A few minutes after the Meadow-Brook Girls and their guardian had rolled
up in their blankets for the night Tommy mumbled sleepily:

“Harriet!”

“Yes, little partner?”

“Don’t forget about that thilver polithh and the cloth, will you?”

“I won’t forget,” promised Harriet. Five minutes later Harriet, too, was
wrapped in sleep, and the round-faced moon smiled kindly down on the
tired but triumphant Meadow-Brook Girls.


                                The End.




                          Transcriber’s Notes


--Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text—this e-text
  is public domain in the country of publication.

--Silently corrected palpable typos; left non-standard spellings and
  dialect unchanged.