[Written before 10 October 1970. In later incarnations the Moter Boys became the Motor Chums, Wilbur Medley High became Horatio Alger High, and Central Grumley High became Jefferson High.]
e just have to win tonight’s game,” said short Ned Eliot to his friends.
“I know that,” replied Tom Wilshire, the leader of the Moter Boys, as Dick Trefoil had named the gang.
“How we gonna do it, Tom?” asked the last-named lad.
“We’ll just have to do our best and pray for success,” interposed Harry Fletcher.
“Ise gwine fight till I drop to win dis game, and nobody’s gwine to stop me, nuther,” stoutly insisted Ersatz Simpson, a colored boy whose eccentricities of speech provided much amusement for his comrades.
When the laughter had died away, Tom Wilshire said, “Sure, sure, Ersatz, I know you’ll carry the water bucket to the best of your ability, but winning this game’s going to take some athletic skills.”
Just then they were joined by another lad, Alvin Dodge, who had no reason to like our young heroes as you will remember if you read the previous book in the series, The Moter Boys and the Exploding Cigar Trick.
“I heard you talkin’ about the game,” said that young lad quietly.
“Yes, you certainly did,” replied Tom.
“Well, you know it would mean a lot to me and my friends if Wilbur Medley High wins this game.”
“I didn’t know you were so concerned about school spirit,” said Harry.
“Oh, shit, you know why I want our school to win,” said Alvin, “and it hasn’t got anything to do with school spirit.”
“Ok, ok,” said Tom, “I’m sure of the purity of your motives. But what about it? I mean, why come to us?”
“Hell, everybody knows you’re the best player on our team.”
“I’m going to do my best pitching. If that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Hell, no! Look, I have a plan. Fred Aaron’s their pitcher, and he’s the only good guy Central Grumley’s got.”
“So if he’s out of the game, Grumley hasn’t got a chance.”
“Now, I’ve got a plan. Before the game, as a gesture of fellowship and good will and all that shit you invite Fred to have a Coke with your side, free.”
“I’ll give you the nickel.”
“But how’s that gonna win the game for us?” asked Dick.
“When you give him the drink, put this powder in it, and kggggsh, Fred’s out of it.”
“You want me to poison Fred?”
“Not poison him. Knock him out for a while. Long enough so we can win the game.”
“I don’t want anything to do with your reprehensible plan,” shouted Tom. “It’s dishonest, sneaky, and I don’t like it.” [early October 1970]