Part 7 (2/2)

”They do not look like people,” cried Rollo, ”but like the knots on one of Grandmother's hooked-rugs. But I should like very much to see a baseball game here.”

”And why baseball?” asked Rupert.

”Because,” said Rollo, ”it would be interesting to see a tiny pitcher in such a huge bowl.”

”Bravo!” cried Anabelle, and Rupert scowled ill-naturedly.

At this moment a tremendous burst of cheering split the air, several bands began to play at once, and the great mult.i.tude rose to its feet shouting and waving their flags, as two groups of strange padded creatures pranced into the arena like savage beasts entering the Coliseum at Rome.

A moment later a whistle blew sharply, and an ominous hush fell over the vast a.s.semblage. Although he knew not why, a strange sensation of physical illness almost overpowered Rollo. The game was about to begin.

”Isn't it wonderful!” cried Stella.

”Is it?” said Rollo in a faint voice.

The contest which followed left our little hero even more dazed and confused. Time after time he shuddered and winced as the two groups of players came crunching together, or when ten or more Princetons fell with a crash upon a single Yale.

”No fair!” shouted Rollo, but Anabelle said, ”Hush, Rollo,” very gently, and put her hand on his under the robe.

Occasionally the players would stop to rest, while doctors and men with stretchers would rush out on the field and remove the wounded.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”--it seemed to him that he kissed her”]

”Who is winning?” asked Rollo.

”n.o.body knows,” said Anabelle. ”No one ever does know at a football game. The only way to find out what is really happening is to read about it in the papers to-morrow.”

This was a great comfort to Rollo, for he gave up trying to understand what was going on and from then on began really to enjoy himself. A few moments later, the whistle blew again, everyone began cheering wildly and the game was over.

”This way,” cried Anabelle as she and Rollo reached the ground outside the Bowl. Rollo followed her and for several minutes they threaded their way among the crowd, squeezing between groups of people and dodging motor cars. Night was falling, and bright headlights were gleaming over the tumbled fields. This way and that they darted, until Anabelle suddenly stopped and said, ”Oh, Rollo, where are the others?”

”Anabelle,” replied Rollo, ”I verily believe we are lost.”

”I'll say so,” said Anabelle. ”Well, let us sit here until we are found. It is much safer than to go wandering about.”

”You are quite right,” agreed Rollo. ”We once lost a fine brindle cow, because she wandered into a swamp and sank in a quagmire. But, h.e.l.lo--what is this?” As he spoke Rollo pulled from his coat pocket a small bottle.

”As I live and breathe, it is a bottle of martini which Jonas has thoughtfully prepared against the cold.”

”Blessings on Jonas!” cried his little companion. ”I am almost frozen.”

It was the work of a moment to spread the robe on a gra.s.sy knoll, and here Cousin Stella's chauffeur found them just as Rollo tossed the empty bottle into a coppice.

”Atta-boy!” cried Rollo gaily as they struggled to their feet and ran toward the automobile. It was now quite dark, and when they were snugly tucked among the cus.h.i.+ons Rollo began to feel very sleepy. As they rolled homeward through the night, the little boy drowsed off into slumber. Then he seemed to see two bright stars gleaming in the sky, which reminded him of Anabelle's eyes and it seemed to him that he kissed her. But he may have been dreaming.

”Who won?” asked Jonas when Rollo and Lucy reached the apartment.

”I did,” cried Rollo, ”I beat Rupert Hogan all to pieces.”

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