  The church gymnasium was jammed with spectators. Every seat had been taken ten minutes in advance of the scheduled game between the Cubs and the Purple Five. Now, crouched in a tight little knot at one end of the floor, the Den 2 boys were awaiting the starting signal. Dan’s gaze roved over the audience. In the front row not far from where his own parents sat, he sighted both Mr. Maxwell and Mr. Brennan. He heaved a sigh of relief. Actually, he hadn’t dared hope that the church trustees would attend the game, even though he had mailed them tickets. Dan’s searching eyes traveled on through row upon row of spectators. Toward the back of the gymnasium, he saw Mr. Greene, the Juvenile Court director, and another court official he did not know by name. “Everyone’s here,” he whispered jubilantly. “Everyone except Mr. Weldon,” Brad replied and his voice was tense with worry. “What if he doesn’t show up?” “He promised, didn’t he?” “Sure, but we haven’t seen him since that day in the belfry. Maybe he’s skipped town. Tell you the truth, Dan, I’m jittery. If he doesn’t come to identify Pat, what’ll we do?” “He’ll come,” Dan said. Though he spoke confidently, he too shared the older boy’s uneasiness. Twice since the two had seen Mr. Weldon in the church belfry, they had returned to seek him. They had found only a locked, and apparently deserted church. The stranger who had claimed to be Chub’s father, obviously had moved out immediately after his meeting with them. Had he left Webster City? They had no way of knowing, but they had not once seen him on the street. As for the game itself, feeling was running high. The greater percentage of rooters seemed to favor the Cubs, but one section of the gymnasium was jammed with friends of Pat and the Bay Shore boys. Dan wondered how they would take a loss of the game, or a disclosure that the Purple Five team was wanted in Juvenile Court. “I feel sort of sorry for Pat,” he remarked privately to Dan. “The guy doesn’t have a suspicion of what’s going to happen to him.” “Assuming that Mr. Weldon shows up.” “Pat isn’t such a bad sort when you get to know him,” Dan went on. “He’s a show off, of course, and full of mischief. He’s quieted down a lot though lately.” “Conscience hurting you, Dan?” “No such thing! If Pat and his bunch wrecked that old Christian Church, then it’s only right that they take their medicine. I’m not forgetting that they let the blame fall on the Cubs.” Brad glanced nervously at the wall clock. “Three more minutes until game time,” he said. “I only hope the Cubs win! It’s terribly important, because if Pat’s team wins, and then everything breaks wide open, they may accuse us of putting the finger on ’em to get even.” Not only Dan and Brad, but all of the Cubs were exceedingly nervous. This third game in the series was the deciding one. The Den 2 boys did not so much mind losing, but they hoped that they would play their best. The line-up however, was discouraging. Chips, although out of quarantine, had not been permitted to play. He sat in the audience, beside Mr. Hatfield, looking pale and dejected. Brad would play center, as always. Red and Midge were assigned as guards, while Dan and Chub were forwards. That left only Fred as substitute, which meant that the Cubs would have to take care not to be put out on personal fouls. “If we only had Chips in the game, we’d have a chance at least,” Brad confided to his friend. “But Chub—” “He’s improved a lot this last week,” Dan said loyally. “I’ve been helping him every night after school, teaching him a few tricks. He’s pepped up a great deal.” “I’ve noticed that,” Brad admitted, turning to look at the younger boy, who even now was practicing baskets. “Do you suppose he could know—” “About his father? I’ve wondered the same thing, Brad. He hasn’t dropped a word, but the last couple of days he’s seemed on fire. He’s been so jolly and so full of pep. I just hope he’s that way tonight.” The sounding of a whistle warned the Cubs that it was game time. They huddled together for a last-minute conference, then trotted out to their places on the floor. “Come on, Cubs!” yelled the Den 2 rooters. “Get in there, Pat!” shouted the Purple Five supporters. “Show ’em your stuff!” The game started fast. The Purple Five had elected to take the south basket in the first half. As the Cubs fully expected, the Purple Five center was inches taller than Brad. He out jumped his opponent, and easily tapped the ball to Pat in the first second of play. Red though, was on his toes. He guarded Pat so closely that he could not pass or shoot for the basket. The referee tossed the ball between them. Red out jumped his opponent, and sent the ball bouncing toward Chub. The boy missed it, but recovered. He hesitated, uncertain what to do. “Shoot it to Dan!” shouted Chips from the sidelines. Chub heard and hurled the ball. The shot was wild, but Dan made a leap into the air and caught it. The crowd roared with delight. “Shoot! Shoot!” screamed the Den 2 rooters. The ball went smoothly from Dan’s hands. It made a high loop and with scarcely a sound, dropped through the north basket. The Cubs had scored two points in the first three minutes of play! Thrilled by their success, the Cubs tried harder than ever for victory. However, the Purple Five were not to be caught napping a second time. Pat and his teammates began to play less cautiously, always watching for a chance to shatter the defense of the Cubs. The Den 2 plays were working perfectly until the ball reached Chub. Repeatedly, Brad or Midge fed him the ball, only to have him muff the shot. Whenever possible, they passed to Dan, but both Purple Five guards concentrated on him. “They watch me like a hawk,” Dan complained as the two teams rested at the end of the first quarter. “If I could just get a free shot at that basket once in a while!” The score stood 2 to 6 in favor of the Purple Five. The Cubs truly were worried. Unless they dug in fast, they’d lose the game. Chub touched Dan on the arm. “Why don’t you put Fred in instead of me?” he asked. “I—I try, but I can’t seem to find the basket.” Dan slapped him on the back. “You’re doing fine,” he said. “Quit worrying and just think about the game.” “I wanted to do well tonight ’specially,” Chub said. “There’s someone here watching me—” Dan had forgotten entirely about Chub’s father. Now he saw the other boy turn and glance directly at a man who stood at the end of the gymnasium with a group of spectators who had arrived too late to obtain seats. So Mr. Weldon had kept his promise! Dan felt a great load drop from his shoulders. What a surprise Pat would get, when the game finally ended! Dan saw Chub wave to his father, and noted the happy light in the boy’s eyes. “He knows the truth,” Dan instantly decided. “Someone has told him. That’s why he’s trying so hard tonight. He wants to make good for his father.” Just then Mr. Hatfield came across the floor to speak to Dan. Drawing him aside, he asked his opinion about keeping Chub in the game. “Fred doesn’t particularly want to play,” the Cub leader said. “Chub has missed a good many chances to score though. If you take him out—” “No, try him awhile longer,” Dan replied quickly. “Chub is playing better tonight than he ever did before. Let him stay in. After all, winning isn’t everything.” “I’m glad to hear you say that, Dan,” Mr. Hatfield answered. “This has been a good clean game so far, and that’s what counts. Excellent sportsmanship on both sides.” The game went on, and for a while the Cubs played with renewed energy. Chub managed a basket and the fans cheered madly. But the next minute, Pat captured the ball. Before Red could stop him, he dribbled down the floor, cut in under the basket and scored. Dan was annoyed at himself. He was playing well but the Purple Five guards wouldn’t give him a chance. Time and again they deserted Chub entirely to concentrate their attention on him. Even so, he twice broke through and made spectacular shots. At the end of the half the score stood 8 to 6, with the Purple Five leading by only one basket. “We may take ’em yet,” Dan said grimly as he rested with his teammates. “Bear down, fellows.” Baskets were held to a minimum in the third quarter. The players all were tiring. Mr. Hatfield took Chub out of the game for awhile, substituting Fred. When the Purple Five ran up two baskets in quick succession, he called him to the bench and let Chub go in again. The Cubs truly were discouraged. With the score at 12 to 6 it seemed to them they were sunk. “Come on, Cubs!” the rooters pleaded. “The old fight.” Dan gritted his teeth and tried harder than ever. He leaped for a high one, and fastening upon the ball, ran full tilt into a Purple Five guard. He pivoted, faked a pass to Chub, and dropped the ball through the basket. After that, playing as if inspired, he scored again. Once he tangled briefly with a Purple Five guard, and the referee called a personal foul on both players. The Purple Five player missed the free throw, while the Cubs again scored. With less than a minute to play, the tally now was: 12 to 11 in favor of the Purple Five. “One basket would do it,” Dan thought desperately. “If we don’t snag it, we’ll lose by a single point.” How much time was left? A minute at best. Perhaps only seconds. Assured of victory, Pat and his teammates were playing a delaying game. Without trying to make another basket, they merely sought to prevent a Cub from getting his hands on the ball. It seemed to the frantic Cubs that they couldn’t shatter the tight defense. Pat dribbled the ball lazily, passing it to a player in the middle of the floor. “Get in there! Break it up!” Chips and Fred yelled from the sidelines. “Thirty seconds to play!” Thirty seconds! Holy Mackerel, the game was the same as over! Dan breathed heavily. He was winded, and sick with the fear of defeat. Only one basket was needed—only one. Then Dan saw his chance. Still employing “keep it away” tactics, Pat lazily passed the ball to the forward who guarded Chub. The player missed the catch and the ball rolled free. Like a flash, Dan darted in and seized it. “Stop him!” Pat yelled. Both guards were on Dan in an instant. They boxed him in, making it impossible for him to have an unobstructed shot for the basket. Dan knew that he never could score. True, he could make a wild shot, but it never would find its mark. Chub, however, stood unguarded a little beyond the center of the floor. Dan passed the ball to him. Chub caught it squarely, then hesitated. Only a few seconds now remained. Dan saw the time keeper starting to raise his hand in signal. Another instant and the game would be over. “Shoot,” he yelled. “Shoot, Chub!” The younger Cub still seemed to hesitate. For a dreadful moment, Dan thought that he intended to try to pass the ball back. Then, Chub took careful aim and attempted the longest basket of his life. The ball looped high, striking the backstop. The Cub rooters groaned, certain that Chub had missed. But the ball came down, striking the rim of the basket. There it teetered while the spectators as one, held their breath. Then it dropped through the netting. At the same moment, the game came to an end. The score read: 13 to 12 in favor of the Cubs. “Golly, did I really make that basket?” Chub demanded, dumbfounded. Dan and the other Cubs rushed over to clap him on the back. “You were swell!” Brad assured him. “You too, Dan,” he added warmly. “If you’d tried to grandstand that last shot yourself, the Cubs would have lost. It was teamwork that saved the game!” Chub’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Know something?” he confessed. “When I made that last shot, I-I closed my eyes. I was scared I’d miss because I always do on the long shots. So I just closed my eyes and said a little prayer.” “No matter how you did it, the Cubs won!” Dan chuckled. “I wonder how Pat and his boys will take it?” The Purple Five, discouraged by defeat, had gathered in a little knot across the room. Pat could be seen talking to the group very earnestly, but what he might be saying the Cubs could not guess. Chub, greatly excited, was unable to contain his enthusiasm. “T-This was the biggest thrill of my l-life,” he declared. “Did I really do all right?” “Swell,” Red assured him patiently. “I’m glad,” Chub sighed. “Being a Cub means so much to me. But I’ve never been able to carry my end.” “You did tonight,” Dan said. “You’re a credit to the team and to Den 2.” “I’ll remember that always,” Chub replied soberly. He slipped away then into the crowd. Dan saw him join his father and they both went off together. The crowd already was filing out of the gymnasium. Brad came hurrying over to speak to Dan. “Say, we must work fast!” he announced breathlessly. “Mr. Greene and those church trustees are leaving!” “They can’t do that until Mr. Weldon tells what he knows!” Dan exclaimed in dismay. “He’s supposed to identify Pat and his bunch!” “We’re making a mess of it,” Brad declared. “This was supposed to be our big moment, and what happens? Everyone pulls out!” “You stop Mr. Greene and the trustees,” Dan directed. “Take them to the clubroom. I’ll fetch Mr. Weldon.” “Okay, but hurry,” Brad advised. Dan started off in search of Chub and his father. He was annoyed at himself for having let them get out of his sight. Now they seemed to have vanished completely. As he searched, Pat Oswald sought him, diffidently offering his hand. “The Cubs played a dandy game,” he said. “You deserved to win.” “Why, thanks,” Dan replied, hiding his astonishment. He shook Pat’s hand and then felt suddenly almost ashamed of himself. In another minute or two, he’d be accusing this same boy in front of Mr. Greene and the church trustees. It didn’t make sense. “Anything wrong?” Pat asked curiously. “Plenty.” Dan spoke in cold misery. But he couldn’t tell him the truth even then. This was the hour the Cubs long had awaited. If he weakened now, Den 2 might never clear its dishonored name. “You look sort of funny,” Pat said, staring hard at him. “Guess you played too hard.” Dan shook his head. “I’m looking for Chub and a man with him,” he said. “Have you seen them?” “They left the church together.” “Left the church?” Dan repeated in disbelief. “Why, Chub hadn’t even changed his clothes!” “He slipped a pair of jeans over his shorts and went that way. They must have been in an awful hurry. The man just hustled him into a taxi and off they went.” Dan stared at Pat, drinking in the words. Why, it was incredible! “You’re telling me straight?” he demanded. “Sure.” Pat grinned, and added impudently: “Cub’s honor!” Dan felt completely deflated. He knew without checking that Pat had spoken the truth. For some unknown reason, Mr. Weldon has hustled his son away from the gymnasium. Deliberately, he had welched on his promise to clear the Cubs! Now the true story might never be disclosed publicly. “Say, you are sick,” Pat said with concern. “Anything I can do?” Dumbly, Dan shook his head. “You’ve done it already,” he said. “The Cubs lost everything they valued tonight.” “I don’t get it,” Pat said, looking puzzled. “You won the game, didn’t you?” “What’s a game? More than victory or anything else, the Cubs cherished their good name in the community.” Pat stared at Dan a moment. “What’s that got to do with me?” he demanded. “I think you know, I’d hoped that tonight the Cubs might clear themselves of the untruths that have been told about them. Now I know that chance is gone.” With dignity, Dan turned and walked away from Pat into the dressing room. |
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