It was hard going for Dick, for his crutches sank into the sand nearly to the depth of their rubber tips, but he persevered, and after some ten minutes of “crutching” arrived at the end of the beach where the point of rock from which the place received its name advanced from the grassy bluff and waded far into the breakers. Harold was not in sight when Dick reached the bottom of the ledge; but a few moments later when by careful climbing Dick had reached the seaward end of the rock, he came into view. The receding tide had left a long and narrow pool in a cleft of the ledge, a pool whose sides were festooned with delicate seaweed and set with purple mussels and green and brown snails and in whose bottom pink starfish crawled. Harold, perched at the edge of the pool, was looking fascinatingly into the clear green depths and didn’t hear the soft tap of Dick’s crutches until the older boy was almost beside him. Then he turned startledly, narrowly escaping a bath in the pool, and scowled at the intruder.

“Had to hunt for me, anyway, didn’t you?” he asked sneeringly.

Dick paid the question no heed. Instead, he moved to the edge of the pool and peered interestedly into it. He didn’t have to feign interest, he was interested. It seemed a long time to Dick since he had crouched, as Harold was crouched now, and gazed fascinatingly at the wonders of a rock pool. Nor had he done it very frequently, for climbing over the ledges is hard and risky work for a boy without two good legs. Harold continued to frown at a wavering starfish in the depths, but presently, as Dick did not speak, he shot a curious glance at him.

“Gee,” he said to himself, “you’d think he’d never seen starfish and things before!”

Dick took off his hat and wiped his moist forehead. Then he lowered himself cautiously to a seat on the rock. “Regular natural aquarium, isn’t it?” he asked pleasantly. Harold’s reply was an unintelligible growl. “Lots of queer things in there,” went on Dick musingly.

“Sure; I just saw a whale,” replied Harold sarcastically.

“Did you? Your eyes must be pretty good,” returned Dick, with a smile. “I dare say, though, I see something you don’t.”

Harold viewed him suspiciously. Finally: “What?” he asked.

“A sea-anemone.”

“A sea-what?”

“Sea-anemone.” Dick laughed. “I sea-anemone; what do you see?”

“That’s a punk joke!” scoffed Harold.

“I’m not joking. I’ll point him out to you. Lean over this way. See that purplish-brown thing on the side near the bottom? Looks like a flower, sort of. See?”

“Sure! Is that it? It isn’t a flower, though; it moves, don’t it?” Harold was interested in spite of himself.

“Yes, it moves, and it isn’t a flower. It’s a polyp. It’s name is Metridium something or other; I forget the rest of it.”

“What’s a polyp? An animal?”

“Y-yes, of a low order. About as much as a sponge is.”

“Pooh, a sponge is a vegetable!” derided the other.

“Not exactly. Those things that move are little tentacles with which it feeds itself,” said Dick, pointing again at the anemone.

“What’s it eat?” asked Harold curiously.

“All sorts of animal matter that floats around in the water and that is so small we can’t see it.”

Harold observed him suspiciously. “I don’t believe it’s alive at all,” he said presently. “It’s just a sort of seaweed, and it moves because the water moves.”

“Think so?” asked Dick. “Then put your hand down there toward it and see what happens.”

“It won’t—bite, will it?” asked Harold doubtfully.

“No, but it will show you whether it’s alive or not. You needn’t touch it,” he added, noting the other’s hesitancy. “Just put your hand near it or disturb the water.”

Harold pulled his sleeve up and cautiously thrust an arm into the pool. “Gee!” he exclaimed. “It shut its mouth!”

Dick laughed. “Doesn’t look much like it did, does it?”

“No; it’s an ugly little thing now,” responded the other. “Say, that’s funny, isn’t it? Guess it’s alive, all right.”

“Yes; and it knows three things pretty well: It knows how to attach itself to the rocks, how to get food, and how to shut up shop when trouble brews.”

“What would it do if you took it out?”

“Die. Besides, it’s stuck on there so hard you’d have to pull it to pieces to get it off. I tried it once when I was a kid, and had to give it up.”

“I’d like to find a sea-urchin,” said Harold. “I’ve got a lot of starfish and a horse-shoe crab and some razor-clam shells and two shark eggs. I guess I’ll get that big starfish down there, too.”

“What’s the use?” asked Dick. “It’s just like those you’ve got. Let the old chap live and enjoy himself.”

“I’ll get it if I want to,” replied Harold. “Say, what did you follow me out here for, anyway?”

“Because I told your mother I’d find you and send you to her. She’s got something to say to you.”

“Sure! I suppose you went and told her a lot of lies about me.”

“You don’t suppose anything of the sort,” responded Dick quietly.

“Well, anyway, I’m not afraid of her.”

“Of course not, but you want to do what she wishes, don’t you?”

“That’s my business,” replied the other ungraciously. “I do as I please.”

“Well, you’re a lucky chap, then,” said Dick pleasantly. “By the way, are you going to see the ball game Saturday?”

“Yes, I guess so. That is”—with elaborate concern—“unless you don’t want me to.”

“I was going to say that if you’ll ask for me at the gate I’ll pass you in, Harold.”

“Why, are they going to charge?”

“Yes; twenty-five cents.”

“Gee, they’ve got a crust! Who’d pay twenty-five cents to see a lot of wooden-heads play ball?”

“Well, we’re hoping a lot will. Anyway, you won’t have to. Just ask for me at the gate. I guess it will be a pretty good game. Do you like baseball?”

“I suppose so.”

“Do you play?”

“Sure! What do you think I am—a wooden Indian?”

“That’s good. They have a pretty good team at Rifle Point. Maybe you’ll make it some day.”

“There isn’t any maybe about it. I’m going to.”

“I hope so. Well, I must be getting back. You coming along? It must be very nearly lunch time.”

“No, I’m not,” growled Harold. “I’ll come when I’m ready.”

“All right. By the way, we won’t have any lessons to-morrow. Nothing doing until Monday. Meanwhile you see if you can’t get the better of that algebra, like a good fellow. So-long!”

“Long!” muttered Harold.

Dick pulled himself up and fixed his crutches and began the laborious task of climbing back up the rock and across to the beach. Fortunately his rubber tips held well, and he was soon at the top of the ledge. But there misfortune overtook him. Just what happened he couldn’t have told, but the result he was very certain about. For one crutch flew out from under him, he spun half around on the other and fell backward, his head coming into violent contact with the granite ledge. For an instant he was too dazed to move. His head rang and buzzed like a bee-hive. In falling he must have cried out involuntarily, for almost before he had gathered his faculties together and made a move to get up he heard footsteps pattering on the rocks, and then the anxious voice of Harold Townsend:

“Are you hurt, Lovering? What happened?”

Harold ran to him, and bent over him with very genuine concern.

“I—I’m all right, thanks,” replied Dick, a trifle vaguely. “I fell. That rock is some hard, Harold!” He rubbed his head ruefully and grimaced as his hand came in contact with the swelling bruise. “Just give me a hand, will you? And kick that crutch this way, please.”

“Here’s your crutch,” said Harold, “but just you wait where you are a minute.” He sped away down the slope of the rock, and Dick, with his head throbbing, for once could not but feel a qualm of envy. In a moment the younger boy was back. He had dipped his handkerchief in the water, and now he offered it a trifle shyly to Dick. “Put it on your head,” he said gruffly. “It’ll make it feel better.”

“Thanks, Harold.” Dick applied the wet compress to the bump. “It was stupid of me to keel over like that,” he said. “I don’t know when I’ve fallen down before.”

“I should think you’d have lots of falls,” replied Harold. “I think you get around mighty well, Lovering. How does it feel now?”

“Better, thanks. Just sort of give me a boost, will you?”

Harold assisting, Dick got to his feet, or, rather, his crutches, and, with the younger boy watching anxiously, went on down the ledge to the beach.

“You needn’t come unless you’re ready to,” said Dick. “I’ll be all right now, Harold.”

“I guess I’ll go, too,” replied Harold carelessly. “It’s most lunch time.”

They walked along in silence for a way, and then Dick asked: “Do you know who Caspar Billings has got to take Morris Brent’s place on Saturday?”

“Fellow named Jensen. Do you know him?”

“No, I think not. Pretty good, is he?”

“I guess so. Loring says he is. Say, Mason’s going to pitch for us. Did you know that?”

“Mason? Oh, he is the fellow who was to have played in the last game and didn’t get here. Is he a wonder, Harold?”

“Is he!” Harold chuckled. “You just wait and see. You fellows won’t be able to touch him!”

“As good as that, eh? By the way, who scores for your team?”

“I don’t know.” Harold shrugged his shoulders. “Nobody, I guess. Why?”

“I should think you’d like to do it.”

Harold considered. “I guess,” he answered finally, “I don’t know how well enough.”

“I can show you. You bring a book Saturday and sit by me, and I’ll make a professional scorer of you in no time.”

“Too much trouble,” replied the other indifferently.

“It isn’t trouble at all, Harold; it’s fun. Better try it some time. It’s a good thing to know.”

Presently Harold asked: “Why aren’t you coming to-morrow?”

“Because we haven’t been getting on very well, Harold. I thought it might be a good idea for us to stop for a couple of days and think it over; see whether we want to go on with it or not, you know. If we decide that we do, we’ll start all over again Monday and do the thing right.”

“Humph!” muttered Harold. “What did you tell my mother?”

“Oh, just that I wasn’t willing to go on and take her money without accomplishing something,” replied Dick cheerfully. “I told her you could study as well as your brother if you wanted to——”

“She’s always beefing about Loring!” grumbled the boy.

“And that if you didn’t want to there wasn’t much use in my coming. Well, I’ll cut through here for the car. I’ll see you Monday, Harold.”

“What about Saturday?” asked the other. “You said——”

“Of course! Look me up, and bring your score-book.”

“Haven’t any.”

“You can get one at Wadsworth’s, on Common Street. Or I’ll buy one for you, if you like.”

“You needn’t. It’s too much like work. So-long!”

Dick returned to Clearfield more encouraged. If only Mrs. Townsend would do as she had agreed to, he believed that he could manage Harold and earn the money that was being paid him. He had about given up hope of finding more pupils, and so could ill afford to lose Harold. He certainly didn’t want to, he reflected, but he would in an instant rather than make no better progress than he had been making.

At practice that afternoon, Gordon told him that Morris had asked to see him, and Dick agreed to call at the Brents’ for a few minutes before supper. Morris was pathetically glad to see the two boys and very loath to have them go again. Mrs. Brent looked in for a short time and Louise met them on their way out and thanked them for coming. She looked rather tired, and Gordon spoke of it.

“It’s been so hot to-day,” she explained, “and I’ve been indoors a good deal since Morris was hurt. He can’t read to himself yet, and so I have to do it for him. Of course, I’m very glad to, but it is hard work in a way. I wonder if either of you have any books he’d like. I’ve read about everything I can find.”

“I think I have,” responded Dick. “I’ll bring two or three over. I guess what Morris wants is a rattling good adventure story.”

“Yes; he’s crazy to hear stories about ships and pirates and hidden treasure, you know. About the only other thing he cares about is the baseball news. I read that to him every morning, and I’m getting to be quite—quite learned.”

“I suppose,” said Dick, “the doctor won’t let you move him out to the Point yet.”

“He says we can go in about another two weeks. I think it will be much better for Morris. He’s getting fearfully tired of that room up there. And it is hot, you know. Thank you both for coming, and do come again when you can. I guess it isn’t much fun for you, but Morris looks forward to it all day.”

“She’s a nice girl,” commented Dick, as they passed through the gate. “Pretty, too.”

“She is nice,” agreed Gordon. “I guess when a fellow’s laid up like that a sister’s a pretty good thing to have around.”

“Yes,” said Dick. And, after a moment, he added: “I’ll find those books and take them around to-morrow morning.”

“I would,” approved the other. “You’re certain to find her in then.”

“Don’t be a chump, Gordie! She’s only a kid!”

“She’s as old as I am, except for a few months. And if you call me a kid I’ll lick you.”

“If you do, I’ll suspend you,” replied Dick sternly.

Gordon laughed. “I hope I’d get as much fun out of it as Jack is getting,” he said. “He confided to me to-day that you were a fine manager. ‘I tell you, Gordon,’ he said, ‘a manager’s got to have plenty of discipline!’ If you could only fire Jack for good and all, he’d love you like a brother, Dick!”

“I sort of wish we were going to have him in the game Saturday,” said Dick. “We’ll miss his batting, I guess.”

“I wonder if this fellow Mason is as good as they seem to think him. Anyone know where he comes from?”

“I didn’t ask. He’s probably better than Porter, though. I have a feeling that we’re due to get the short end of the score day after to-morrow.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I hope to goodness Harry can play. If he is out of it, we will be in a mess!”

“How is Tom getting on with his shingling or painting or whatever it is he’s doing?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Well, it would be a good thing if he could come out and practice a little more. It’s too bad we can’t find another fellow to help out with the pitching, Gordie. If Tom got sick we’d be in a fix.”

“We surely would! But I don’t believe Tom was ever sick in his life. Anyway, he was pretty fit to-day. I caught him for a few minutes, and he had everything there is.”

Dick smiled. “Tom has just three balls, Gordie: an out, a pretty good drop, and a fast one that’s a peach. That’s all he needs, though. If he mixes them up right he can get by. But we’ve got to find our batting eye Saturday if we’re to win. How about the line-up? Think we’d better change it?”

“Yes, I do. This fellow Shores had better follow Lanny, don’t you think? He seems to think he can bat, but he didn’t connect with much yesterday.”

“Maybe he was embarrassed,” suggested Dick, with a smile.

“Embarrassed!” said Gordon. “Yes, about as much embarrassed as a bull-pup! Maybe he will do better in a game, though. Well, so-long, Dick. I’ll have to hustle or I’ll be late for supper.”

“Coming around to-night?”

“I don’t believe so. I told Lanny I’d go over there. See you to-morrow, though.”

“Come over in the morning, will you? I’m not going out to the Point to-morrow.”

“You’re not? You haven’t quit, have you?”

“No, not yet. I’m giving Harold a day or two to think over his sins. Good-night.”

“I say, Dick, don’t forget your call.”

“What call?” asked Dick, from the end of the hedge.

“Why, on Miss Brent!”

“You’ll sit on the bench if you’re not careful,” laughed Dick.