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glad the subject had changed. He felt an ache in his stomach every time Sam Suzuki’s name
     was mentioned.
    His mother gave him permission to spend the night with Beak. Beak used a small hatchet to drive in the stakes while Stogie
     held up the tent. It was large enough for two sleeping bags and still had plenty of space in between.
    They lay in their pajamas in the darkness, a chorus of crickets breaking the night’s velvet silence. Beak said he wished they
     had a million dollars so that they could travel to Europe and see the Colosseum, the Eiffel Tower, the Alps and a hundred
     other things. Then to Egypt tosee the Sphinx and the pyramids, and to China to see the Great Wall. Man, it would be the coolest cool.
    They kept talking and wishing, and suddenly a sound — a different sound from the chirping of the crickets — cut into the quiet
     night.
    “What was that?” asked Stogie, quickly straining his ears.
    “I don’t know!” Beak whispered.
    The sound continued. It was a grating noise and seemed to originate just outside of their tent.
    “I’ll take a look,” whispered Stogie. He shoved aside the quilt blanket, pivoted off the bed, and peeked through the front
     of the tent. Nothing.
    He held still for a moment. The noise had stopped. He started back for the cot when it started up again. He realized nowthat it was coming from the side. This time he went all the way out of the tent and around the corner. And stopped dead.
    An animal about two feet long and shaped like an oversized football, except for a tail on one end and a snout on the other,
     seemed to swell up for a second. Stogie recognized it instantly. A porcupine!
    “Beak!” he cried softly. “C’m here! Quick!”
    Just then something bumped against him and he jumped. “I
am
here!” murmured Beak. “Hey, it … it’s a porcupine!”
    Even before Beak had the words out of his mouth, the animal was scurrying toward the woods beyond the yard.
    “He was gnawing on something,” observed Stogie. In the semidarkness he saw the hatchet where Beak had left it after driving in the stakes. He picked it up, and instantly he knew.

    “He was gnawing on this. The handle’s all wet and rough.”
    Then he was staring after the porcupine which he could no longer see, and another thought struck him — struck him like the
     blow of a bat striking a ball.
    “Beak! I’ve got it! That’s what happened to Sam Suzuki’s glove! It was the porcupine that chewed it up!”
    “Stogie, you’re right! It had to be!”
    Stogie did an Indian war dance on the spot. “Boy, Beak, do I feel good! I won’t be able to sleep a wink the rest of the night!”
    He did though.

10
    O N TUESDAY Stogie was itching to tell Sam about the porcupine so he could clear up the whole mess about the glove. But when
     he and Beak arrived at the Suzukis’ house, no one was home.
    “Guess I’ll have to wait till tonight,” he said. “I’ll see him at the game. I hope he’ll be there.”
    They were at the ball park at 5:15 when most of the guys came drifting in. They played catch, then had batting practice, hitting
     three and laying one down. Sam Suzuki still hadn’t shown up.
    In a way
, thought Stogie,
I don’t care if Sam never shows up. Then I can go back to my old position at short
. But Stogie knew he didn’t really mean it. He had to tell Sam what he had discovered about the glove.
    Maybe — a thought brought a gleam into his eyes — maybe the coach would let him play short while Sam was gone!
    “Anybody know where Sam Suzuki is?” inquired Coach Dirkus.
    “In New York City with his parents,” answered Beak.
    “When are they coming back?”
    “I don’t know.”
    The coach picked up a bat and a ball. “Okay, let’s have infield,” he announced. “Dennis, take short, Stogie, second.”
    Stogie’s hope collapsed like a punctured tire. He had thought sure … Lipspressed tightly together, he picked up his mitt and ran out to second. He wasn’t going to argue