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Authors: Julie Campbell
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you girls, too, I’m sure.”
“I’m not so sure about the girls,” Mrs. Gorman said as she put away the breakfast dishes the girls had finished washing and drying. “Ned never seems to have much on his mind but hunting and basketball and football... skating, too, I believe.”
“He’s what the girls would have called a ‘sheik’ when I was your age,” Mr. Gorman teased. “Tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Let’s just hope he can play basketball,” Jim said. “Say, Mr. Gorman, it sure was swell of you to get us those tickets.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mr. Gorman answered. “We won’t need the station wagon today, and if you think you can manage it and find your way to Rivervale, you may use it.”
“Thanks a lot,” Trixie said. “Ben, wont you come along with us?”
“Too much studying to do,” Ben answered. “But thanks!”
The Bob-Whites gave the horses a quick run around the farm, up the road to Waterworks Park, and back. Then, after a light lunch, they piled into the station wagon and were off.
The girls wore sweaters and skirts, for Mrs. Gorman said it was all quite informal, and the dance would be in the gym. In view of what was to happen later on, it was just as well that Trixie, at least, didn’t dress up.
The Bob-Whites found seats right down in front, near the center of the court. A dozen or so Rivervale High players, with huge R’s on their jackets, were warming up.
It wasn’t hard to tell which of the players was Ned Schulz. He was the tallest, the darkest, and the handsomest. Automatically Honey smoothed back her long hair, and Diana batted her curly lashes for a better look at him.
Trixie, though, followed Ned’s quick, perfectly timed progress around the floor, and, as the ball left his hands, arched into the air, and ripped through the basket, she whistled in quick admiration.
Ned heard her and, realizing that these were his neighbor’s out-of-town visitors, came up to introduce himself.
“We’re waiting for the gang from Indianola High,” he said. “Something must have held them up.”
“It’s been fun watching the warm-up,” Trixie said enthusiastically. “You have some neat players.”
“Thanks. Do you... any of you fellows play back home?” Ned asked. “Where is it, now, someplace in New York?”
“Sleepyside Junior-Senior High,” Trixie said. “Jim and Brian and Mart all play.”
“Do you girls play, too?” Ned asked. “Say, wait a minute till I see what the coach is saying to the rest of the gang.”
“There’ll be a half or three-quarters of an hour delay,” he told the Bob-Whites when he came back. “How about throwing the ball around a little?” he asked Brian and Jim and Mart. “Coach said the team should take it easy, so the floor is free. Plenty of sneakers over here under the bench.”
“That’ll be keen,” Mart said.
The Rivervale players sat around on the floor and on the bench while the boys from Sleepyside found sneakers to fit.
“Lace ’em up tight,” one of the local players said and smiled at the boy sitting next to him.
“Yeah, thanks,” Mart answered, looking up sideways at him. “I seem to remember that.”
“No harm meant,” the boy replied. “I just thought maybe you hadn’t played much.”
“He’ll be sorry he ever said that,” Honey whispered to Trixie. “This is going to be fun.”
Mart was out on the floor in a flash. Skillfully he faked, eluded an imaginary player, reversed, faked again, and flipped the ball accurately into the basket.
Brian caught it on the bounce, pounded it to get the feel of it in his hand, dribbled it across the court, and sank a ripper from far out.
By this time the spectators on the benches were aware that the strangers on the floor were no strangers to the game of basketball. They whistled and clapped and stamped their feet.
Mart stopped practice-shooting at the far end of the court, bent, clowning, and bowed elaborately. This set everyone laughing. Suddenly
“I’m not so sure about the girls,” Mrs. Gorman said as she put away the breakfast dishes the girls had finished washing and drying. “Ned never seems to have much on his mind but hunting and basketball and football... skating, too, I believe.”
“He’s what the girls would have called a ‘sheik’ when I was your age,” Mr. Gorman teased. “Tall, dark, and handsome.”
“Let’s just hope he can play basketball,” Jim said. “Say, Mr. Gorman, it sure was swell of you to get us those tickets.”
“Don’t mention it,” Mr. Gorman answered. “We won’t need the station wagon today, and if you think you can manage it and find your way to Rivervale, you may use it.”
“Thanks a lot,” Trixie said. “Ben, wont you come along with us?”
“Too much studying to do,” Ben answered. “But thanks!”
The Bob-Whites gave the horses a quick run around the farm, up the road to Waterworks Park, and back. Then, after a light lunch, they piled into the station wagon and were off.
The girls wore sweaters and skirts, for Mrs. Gorman said it was all quite informal, and the dance would be in the gym. In view of what was to happen later on, it was just as well that Trixie, at least, didn’t dress up.
The Bob-Whites found seats right down in front, near the center of the court. A dozen or so Rivervale High players, with huge R’s on their jackets, were warming up.
It wasn’t hard to tell which of the players was Ned Schulz. He was the tallest, the darkest, and the handsomest. Automatically Honey smoothed back her long hair, and Diana batted her curly lashes for a better look at him.
Trixie, though, followed Ned’s quick, perfectly timed progress around the floor, and, as the ball left his hands, arched into the air, and ripped through the basket, she whistled in quick admiration.
Ned heard her and, realizing that these were his neighbor’s out-of-town visitors, came up to introduce himself.
“We’re waiting for the gang from Indianola High,” he said. “Something must have held them up.”
“It’s been fun watching the warm-up,” Trixie said enthusiastically. “You have some neat players.”
“Thanks. Do you... any of you fellows play back home?” Ned asked. “Where is it, now, someplace in New York?”
“Sleepyside Junior-Senior High,” Trixie said. “Jim and Brian and Mart all play.”
“Do you girls play, too?” Ned asked. “Say, wait a minute till I see what the coach is saying to the rest of the gang.”
“There’ll be a half or three-quarters of an hour delay,” he told the Bob-Whites when he came back. “How about throwing the ball around a little?” he asked Brian and Jim and Mart. “Coach said the team should take it easy, so the floor is free. Plenty of sneakers over here under the bench.”
“That’ll be keen,” Mart said.
The Rivervale players sat around on the floor and on the bench while the boys from Sleepyside found sneakers to fit.
“Lace ’em up tight,” one of the local players said and smiled at the boy sitting next to him.
“Yeah, thanks,” Mart answered, looking up sideways at him. “I seem to remember that.”
“No harm meant,” the boy replied. “I just thought maybe you hadn’t played much.”
“He’ll be sorry he ever said that,” Honey whispered to Trixie. “This is going to be fun.”
Mart was out on the floor in a flash. Skillfully he faked, eluded an imaginary player, reversed, faked again, and flipped the ball accurately into the basket.
Brian caught it on the bounce, pounded it to get the feel of it in his hand, dribbled it across the court, and sank a ripper from far out.
By this time the spectators on the benches were aware that the strangers on the floor were no strangers to the game of basketball. They whistled and clapped and stamped their feet.
Mart stopped practice-shooting at the far end of the court, bent, clowning, and bowed elaborately. This set everyone laughing. Suddenly
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