Twilight was settling on the land. The forms of trees and houses loomed big and black, their sharp outlines suggesting fanciful forms to the minds of two boys hurrying along the road which like a ribbon wound In and out among the low hills surrounding the town of Bramley, in south-western Ohio. As the darkness increased lights began to twinkle from the windows of the distant farmhouses. "We're later than usual, Tom," said the larger of the two boys. "I hope we'll get home before father does." "Then let's hurry. The last time we kept supper waiting he said we'd have to give up playing ball after school if we couldn't get home before meal time." "And that means that we won't make the team and will only get a chance to substitute," returned the first speaker. As though such a misfortune were too great to be borne, the two young ball players broke into a dog trot. The boys were brothers, Tom and Larry Alden. Larry, the larger, was sixteen and Tom was a year younger. Both were healthy and strong and would have been thought older, so large were they.
