of furniture on the wagon. "Now, up into our room with her, fellows."
"Yes, and don't stop to admire it all day, either," called Kindlings. "I want you in practice right away."
The chums promised, but they could hardly tear themselves away from the room where, once more, reposed the old chair. It looked as natural as it ever had, and its sojourn "in the land of the Philistines," as Tom declared, had apparently not harmed it any.
"I declare, the old clock seems glad to see it back," declared Phil.
"It sures does," agreed Sid, sinking down on the sofa. That piece of furniture seemed to creak and groan out a welcome to its fellow.
"We'll draw lots to see who has the honor of first sitting in the old chair, and then we'll get out on the field," suggested Tom.
He himself drew the lucky number. With something of a little ceremony he made ready to sink down into the depths of the chair. Slowly he let himself back.
A cloud of dust, as of yore, arose around him, making Phil, Sid and Frank sneeze.
"They're greeting you, old chap!" cried Tom to the chair.
He leaned back. His chums, watching him, saw a look of wonder come over his face. Then
