Chapter 16. Rollo Goes to Boston
It started out as a good week; the weather was warm and dry and comfortable and we were feeling happy. We had a scare on Wednesday when we heard two men walking through our clearing. We could hear them talking to each other, but couldn’t decipher what they were saying. We found out later that it was another search, but, again, they didn’t walk right over us, and there was nothing for them to see or hear.
On Friday, it rained off and on all day, and it got pretty cold. Our cabin was still watertight, and stayed that way all the time we were out there. But we had to go out to use the latrine and get water, so it was kind of miserable. We were sitting around the table, silently eating Dinty Moore with bread, when Rollo blurted out “when are we going home?”
Well, I can’t say that I hadn’t thought the same thing, and I’m sure the other guys had, too, but nobody but Rollo had said anything, so the three of us ganged up on him and talked him out of it. But we knew it was temporary. It would be three weeks the next day, and there was a limit to what we could expect. I hoped we could keep him around for a little while, and I thought really hard about the best way to handle it when he decided to leave. I was pretty sure the other guys would stay as long as the weather held, but not Rollo.
It stopped raining that night, and the next day it warmed back up a little. Karl showed up early that afternoon, and I took him aside for a little private chat. When he had agreed to what I suggested, I gathered the guys together and laid out my plan.
“Listen, Rollo. If you can hold out until next Saturday, I’ve got a plan that will really help us out.”
He cocked his head in a typical pose, farted, and asked “What do you have in mind?”
Karl laughed, as he was apt to, and said “How’d you like to go to Boston?”
Rollo, who was always a little in awe of Karl, asked, totally confused, “Boston? What are you talking about?”
I knew this had to come from me, so I jumped right in. “Look, if you just walk home, they’ll start to concentrate more on searching around Essex. Especially if you’re spotted somewhere before you reach home. But if you’re somewhere else…”
The light came on for Rollo. “But if I’m in Boston… Yeah, but how do I get there?”
Karl laughed again. “I’ll drive you there Saturday morning, and you call your parents collect from the bus station.”
Win and Tom had realized the import of what we were suggesting, and they loved it.
“It’s perfect!” Win exclaimed, “Rollo, this will send the cops off on another wild goose chase! They’ll think we’re in Boston!”
“Your parents will be thrilled when you call them,” Tom asserted, “and they’ll drive down to pick you up. This will make them happy, you’ll get back home, the cops and the FBI will be confused all over again, and it’ll buy us more time.”
Our enthusiasm for the idea was infectious, and Rollo was quickly persuaded. That made for a happy afternoon, and when the other guys showed up, it was another little party. Security Chief Tom made sure we posted guards, ‘cause we were making a lot of noise. In addition to the usual food they brought us, Larry had somehow gotten a whole bag of doughnuts from the Best-Ever Bake Shop. We didn’t ask how, we just wolfed them down and washed them down with Coke.
That afternoon’s game was a special one. It was the eleventh win in a row for the Yankees, and the ninth win for rookie pitcher Mel Stottlemyre, who had come up from the minors on August twelfth and saved the team. On this day he not only pitched a two-hit shutout, he went five-for-five at the plate and drove in two runs. Rollo tried to make fun of his name, but we hooted him down, as always, pointing out that a guy whose favorite player was named Yastrzemski had no right to make fun of Stottlemyre.
All of us except Rollo, including our support team, were diehard Yankee fans. We were aware that this was an anomaly, and that we were surrounded by Boston fans, but we didn’t care. We had the best player in baseball in Mickey Mantle, the best pitcher in Whitey Ford, and our team’s history and tradition were unmatchable. We thought it would go on forever.
That week went by pretty slowly. Win and Tom and I were trying to keep Rollo’s spirits up, hoping to nurse him along until Saturday. At the same time, we were admittedly getting a little anxious ourselves. The whole thing was great; being together, best friends, and knowing we were putting one over on all of the adults, the teachers especially. But, of course we missed our families and the comforts of home. It was getting colder and we knew we’d have to give it up eventually.
The Yanks finally clinched the pennant on Saturday, the same day that Rollo left. Karl showed up at seven o’clock to pick him up, and we said goodbye to our fourth member. All in all, Rollo had been a good helper throughout the summer and a fun companion in the cabin. He reminded us before he left that we owed him, collectively, three thousand four hundred dollars in Blackjack debts, and we cursed him roundly as he and Karl disappeared on the trail out to Lost Nation Road.
That afternoon, the game was interrupted (on the radio, that is) by a special news report. One of the missing boys had been located in Boston, and his parents were on their way to pick him up. Chief Mulrooney vowed to leave no stone unturned in finding the other three, whom he was certain were hiding somewhere in the Boston area.
We laughed and cheered Rollo, and a little later, the Yanks won the game and clinched the pennant, the twenty-ninth in team history. Jimmy, the biggest Mickey Mantle fan ever, was with us as we celebrated with hot dogs, baked beans and potato chips.
“Listen,” Win said, “I’ve got an idea. The Series starts on Wednesday, and who knows how long it will last? But why don’t we agree to stay out here until it ends. The day after the World Series ends, we’ll go home.”
That was a good idea. We had really needed to decide on an end to this adventure, and what could be a better way? We expected to defeat the Reds, or Cards, or Phillies, who were all still in it with one day left, in four or five games, and then we could go home in triumph. Jimmy thought it was a great idea. He wouldn’t be with us for the games, though. The World Series would be televised, of course, and there was no way he would give up watching the Yanks on TV to listen on the radio with us.