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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19246-8.txt b/19246-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c57ff11 --- /dev/null +++ b/19246-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6684 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Pitcher, by Zane Grey + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Pitcher + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: September 11, 2006 [EBook #19246] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG PITCHER *** + + + + +Produced by Justin Gillbank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +The Young Pitcher + +By Zane Grey + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Varsity Captain + + II. A Great Arm + + III. Prisoner of the Sophs + + IV. The Call for Candidates + + V. The Cage + + VI. Out on the Field + + VII. Annihilation + + VIII. Examinations + + IX. President Halstead on College Spirit + + X. New Players + + XI. State University Game + + XII. Ken Clashes with Graves + + XIII. Friendship + + XIV. The Herne Game + + XV. A Matter of Principle + + XVI. The First Place Game + + XVII. Ken's Day + + XVIII. Breaking Training + + + + +I + +THE VARSITY CAPTAIN + + +Ken Ward had not been at the big university many days before he +realized the miserable lot of a freshman. + +At first he was sorely puzzled. College was so different from what +he had expected. At the high school of his home town, which, being +the capital of the State, was no village, he had been somebody. Then +his summer in Arizona, with its wild adventures, had given him a +self-appreciation which made his present situation humiliating. + +There were more than four thousand students at the university. Ken +felt himself the youngest, the smallest, the one of least consequence. +He was lost in a shuffle of superior youths. In the forestry department +he was a mere boy; and he soon realized that a freshman there was the +same as anywhere. The fact that he weighed nearly one hundred and sixty +pounds, and was no stripling, despite his youth, made not one whit of +difference. + +Unfortunately, his first overture of what he considered good-fellowship +had been made to an upper-classman, and had been a grievous mistake. +Ken had not yet recovered from its reception. He grew careful after +that, then shy, and finally began to struggle against disappointment +and loneliness. + +Outside of his department, on the campus and everywhere he ventured, +he found things still worse. There was something wrong with him, with +his fresh complexion, with his hair, with the way he wore his tie, +with the cut of his clothes. In fact, there was nothing right about +him. He had been so beset that he could not think of anything but +himself. One day, while sauntering along a campus path, with his hands +in his pockets, he met two students coming toward him. They went to +right and left, and, jerking his hands from his pockets, roared in +each ear, "How dare you walk with your hands in your pockets!" + +Another day, on the library step, he encountered a handsome bareheaded +youth with a fine, clean-cut face and keen eyes, who showed the true +stamp of the great university. + +"Here," he said, sharply, "aren't you a freshman?" + +"Why--yes," confessed Ken. + +"I see you have your trousers turned up at the bottom." + +"Yes--so I have." For the life of him Ken could not understand why +that simple fact seemed a crime, but so it was. + +"Turn them down!" ordered the student. + +Ken looked into the stern face and flashing eyes of his tormentor, +and then meekly did as he had been commanded. + +"Boy, I've saved your life. We murder freshmen here for that," +said the student, and then passed on up the steps. + +In the beginning it was such incidents as these that had bewildered Ken. +He passed from surprise to anger, and vowed he would have something to +say to these upper-classmen. But when the opportunity came Ken always +felt so little and mean that he could not retaliate. This made him +furious. He had not been in college two weeks before he could distinguish +the sophomores from the seniors by the look on their faces. He hated the +sneering "Sophs," and felt rising in him the desire to fight. But he +both feared and admired seniors. They seemed so aloof, so far above +him. He was in awe of them, and had a hopeless longing to be like +them. And as for the freshmen, it took no second glance for Ken to +pick them out. They were of two kinds--those who banded together in +crowds and went about yelling, and running away from the Sophs, and +those who sneaked about alone with timid step and furtive glance. + +Ken was one of these lonesome freshmen. He was pining for companionship, +but he was afraid to open his lips. Once he had dared to go into Carlton +Hall, the magnificent club-house which had been given to the university +by a famous graduate. The club was for all students--Ken had read that +on the card sent to him, and also in the papers. But manifestly the +upper-classmen had a different point of view. Ken had gotten a glimpse +into the immense reading-room with its open fireplace and huge chairs, +its air of quiet study and repose; he had peeped into the brilliant +billiard-hall and the gymnasium; and he had been so impressed and +delighted with the marble swimming-tank that he had forgotten himself +and walked too near the pool. Several students accidentally bumped him +into it. It appeared the students were so eager to help him out that +they crowded him in again. When Ken finally got out he learned the +remarkable fact that he was the sixteenth freshman who had been +accidentally pushed into the tank that day. + +So Ken Ward was in a state of revolt. He was homesick; he was lonely +for a friend; he was constantly on the lookout for some trick; his +confidence in himself had fled; his opinion of himself had suffered +a damaging change; he hardly dared call his soul his own. + +But that part of his time spent in study or attending lectures +more than made up for the other. Ken loved his subject and was +eager to learn. He had a free hour in the afternoon, and often he +passed this in the library, sometimes in the different exhibition +halls. He wanted to go into Carlton Club again, but his experience +there made him refrain. + +One afternoon at this hour Ken happened to glance into a lecture-room. +It was a large amphitheatre full of noisy students. The benches were +arranged in a circle running up from a small pit. Seeing safety in the +number of students who were passing in, Ken went along. He thought he +might hear an interesting lecture. It did not occur to him that he did +not belong there. The university had many departments and he felt that +any lecture-room was open to him. Still, caution had become a habit +with him, and he stepped down the steep aisle looking for an empty bench. + +How steep the aisle was! The benches appeared to be on the side of +a hill. Ken slipped into an empty one. There was something warm and +pleasant in the close contact of so many students, in the ripple of +laughter and the murmur of voices. Ken looked about him with a feeling +that he was glad to be there. + +It struck him, suddenly, that the room had grown strangely silent. +Even the shuffling steps of the incoming students had ceased. Ken +gazed upward with a queer sense of foreboding. Perhaps he only +imagined that all the students above were looking down at him. +Hurriedly he glanced below. A sea of faces, in circular rows, +was turned his way. + +There was no mistake about it. He was the attraction. At the same +instant when he prayed to sink through the bench out of sight a +burning anger filled his breast. What on earth had he done now? +He knew it was something; he felt it. That quiet moment seemed an +age. Then the waiting silence burst. + +"_Fresh on fifth!_" yelled a student in one of the lower benches. + +"FRESH ON FIFTH!" bawled another at the top of his lungs. + +Ken's muddled brain could make little of the matter. He saw he was in +the fifth row of benches, and that all the way around on either side +of him the row was empty. The four lower rows were packed, and above +him students were scattered all over. He had the fifth row of benches +to himself. + +"Fresh on fifth!" + +Again the call rang up from below. It was repeated, now from the left of +the pit and then from the right. A student yelled it from the first row +and another from the fourth. It banged back and forth. Not a word came +from the upper part of the room. + +Ken sat up straight with a very red face. It was his intention to leave +the bench, but embarrassment that was developing into resentment held +him fast. What a senseless lot these students were! Why could they not +leave him in peace? How foolish of him to go wandering about in strange +lecture-rooms! + +A hand pressed Ken's shoulder. He looked back to see a student bending +down toward him. + +"_Hang, Freshie!_" this fellow whispered. + +"What's it all about?" asked Ken. "What have I done, anyway? I never +was in here before." + +"All Sophs down there. They don't allow freshmen to go below the sixth +row. There've been several rushes this term. And the big one's coming. +Hang, Freshie! We're all with you." + +"Fresh on fifth!" The tenor of the cry had subtly changed. Good-humored +warning had changed to challenge. It pealed up from many lusty throats, +and became general all along the four packed rows. + +"_Hang, Freshie!_" bellowed a freshman from the topmost row. It +was acceptance of the challenge, the battle-cry flung down to the Sophs. +A roar arose from the pit. The freshmen, outnumbering the sophomores, +drowned the roar in a hoarser one. Then both sides settled back in +ominous waiting. + +Ken thrilled in all his being. The freshmen were with him! That roar +told him of united strength. All in a moment he had found comrades, +and he clenched his fingers into the bench, vowing he would hang there +until hauled away. + +"Fresh on fifth!" shouted a Soph in ringing voice. He stood up in +the pit and stepped to the back of the second bench. "Fresh on fifth! +Watch me throw him out!" + +He was a sturdily built young fellow and balanced himself gracefully on +the backs of the benches, stepping up from one to the other. There was +a bold gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face. He showed good-natured +contempt for a freshman and an assurance that was close to authority. + +Ken sat glued to his seat in mingled fear and wrath. Was he to be the +butt of those overbearing sophomores? He thought he could do nothing but +hang on with all his might. The ascending student jumped upon the fourth +bench and, reaching up, laid hold of Ken with no gentle hands. His grip +was so hard that Ken had difficulty in stifling a cry of pain. This, +however, served to dispel his panic and make him angry clear through. + +The sophomore pulled and tugged with all his strength, yet he could not +dislodge Ken. The freshmen howled gleefully for him to "Hang! hang!" + +Then two more sophomores leaped up to help the leader. A blank silence +followed this move, and all the freshmen leaned forward breathlessly. +There was a sharp ripping of cloth. Half of Ken's coat appeared in the +hands of one of his assailants. + +Suddenly Ken let go his hold, pushed one fellow violently, then swung +his fists. It might have been unfair, for the sophomores were beneath +him and balancing themselves on the steep benches, but Ken was too +angry to think of that. The fellow he pushed fell into the arms of +the students below, the second slid out of sight, and the third, who +had started the fray, plunged with a crash into the pit. + +The freshmen greeted this with a wild yell; the sophomores answered +likewise. Like climbing, tumbling apes the two classes spilled +themselves up and down the benches, and those nearest Ken laid hold +of him, pulling him in opposite directions. + +Then began a fierce fight for possession of luckless Ken. Both sides +were linked together by gripping hands. Ken was absolutely powerless. +His clothes were torn to tatters in a twinkling; they were soon torn +completely off, leaving only his shoes and socks. Not only was he in +danger of being seriously injured, but students of both sides were +handled as fiercely. A heavy trampling roar shook the amphitheatre. +As they surged up and down the steep room benches were split. In the +beginning the sophomores had the advantage and the tug-of-war raged +near the pit and all about it. But the superior numbers of the freshmen +began to tell. The web of close-locked bodies slowly mounted up the room, +smashing the benches, swaying downward now and then, yet irresistibly +gaining ground. The yells of the freshmen increased with the assurance +of victory. There was one more prolonged, straining struggle, then Ken +was pulled away from the sophomores. The wide, swinging doors of the +room were knocked flat to let out the stream of wild freshmen. They +howled like fiends; it was first blood for the freshman class; the +first tug won that year. + +Ken Ward came to his senses out in the corridor surrounded by an +excited, beaming, and disreputable crowd of freshmen. Badly as he +was hurt, he had to laugh. Some of them looked happy in nothing but +torn underclothes. Others resembled a lot of ragamuffins. Coats were +minus sleeves, vests were split, shirts were collarless. Blood and +bruises were much in evidence. + +Some one helped Ken into a long ulster. + +"Say, it was great," said this worthy. "Do you know who that fellow +was--the first one who tried to throw you out of number five?" + +"I haven't any idea," replied Ken. In fact, he felt that his ideas +were as scarce just then as his clothes. + +"That was the president of the Sophs. He's the varsity baseball +captain, too. You slugged him!... Great!" + +Ken's spirit, low as it was, sank still lower. What miserable luck +he had! His one great ambition, next to getting his diploma, had +been to make the varsity baseball team. + + + + +II + +A GREAT ARM + + +The shock of that battle, more than the bruising he had received, +confined Ken to his room for a week. When he emerged it was to find +he was a marked man; marked by the freshmen with a great and friendly +distinction; by the sophomores for revenge. If it had not been for +the loss of his baseball hopes, he would have welcomed the chance to +become popular with his classmates. But for him it was not pleasant +to be reminded that he had "slugged" the Sophs' most honored member. + +It took only two or three meetings with the revengeful sophomores to +teach Ken that discretion was the better part of valor. He learned +that the sophomores of all departments were looking for him with +deadly intent. So far luck had enabled him to escape all but a wordy +bullying. Ken became an expert at dodging. He gave the corridors and +campus a wide berth. He relinquished his desire to live in one of the +dormitories, and rented a room out in the city. He timed his arrival +at the university and his departure. His movements were governed +entirely by painfully acquired knowledge of the whereabouts of his +enemies. + +So for weeks Ken Ward lived like a recluse. He was not one with his +college mates. He felt that he was not the only freshman who had +gotten a bad start in college. Sometimes when he sat near a sad-faced +classmate, he knew instinctively that here was a fellow equally in +need of friendship. Still these freshmen were as backward as he was, +and nothing ever came of such feelings. + +The days flew by and the weeks made months, and all Ken did was attend +lectures and study. He read everything he could find in the library +that had any bearing on forestry. He mastered his text-books before the +Christmas holidays. About the vacation he had long been undecided; at +length he made up his mind not to go home. It was a hard decision to +reach. But his college life so far had been a disappointment; he was +bitter about it, and he did not want his father to know. Judge Ward +was a graduate of the university. Often and long he had talked to Ken +about university life, the lasting benefit of associations and +friendships. He would probably think that his son had barred himself +out by some reckless or foolish act. Ken was not sure what was to +blame; he knew he had fallen in his own estimation, and that the less +he thought of himself the more he hated the Sophs. + +On Christmas day he went to Carlton Hall. It was a chance he did not +want to miss, for very few students would be there. As it turned out +he spent some pleasant hours. But before he left the club his steps +led him into the athletic trophy room, and there he was plunged into +grief. The place was all ablaze with flags and pennants, silver cups +and gold medals, pictures of teams and individuals. There were mounted +sculls and oars, footballs and baseballs. The long and proud record +of the university was there to be read. All her famous athletes were +pictured there, and every one who had fought for his college. Ken +realized that here for the first time he was in the atmosphere of +college spirit for which the university was famed. What would he not +have given for a permanent place in that gallery! But it was too late. +He had humiliated the captain of the baseball team. Ken sought out the +picture of the last season's varsity. What a stocky lot of young chaps, +all consciously proud of the big letter on their shirts! Dale, the +captain and pitcher, was in the centre of the group. Ken knew his +record, and it was a splendid one. Ken took another look at Dale, +another at the famous trainer, Murray, and the professional coach, +Arthurs--men under whom it had been his dream to play--and then he +left the room, broken-hearted. + +When the Christmas recess was over he went back to his lectures resigned +to the thought that the athletic side of college life was not for him. +He studied harder than ever, and even planned to take a course of lectures +in another department. Also his adeptness in dodging was called upon more +and more. The Sophs were bound to get him sooner or later. But he did not +grow resigned to that; every dodge and flight increased his resentment. +Presently he knew he would stop and take what they had to give, and +retaliate as best he could. Only, what would they do to him when they +did catch him? He remembered his watch, his money, and clothes, never +recovered after that memorable tug-of-war. He minded the loss of his +watch most; that gift could never be replaced. It seemed to him that +he had been the greater sufferer. + +One Saturday in January Ken hurried from his class-room. He was always +in a hurry and particularly on Saturdays, for that being a short day +for most of the departments, there were usually many students passing +to and fro. A runaway team clattering down the avenue distracted him +from his usual caution, and he cut across the campus. Some one stopped +the horses, and a crowd collected. When Ken got there many students +were turning away. Ken came face to face with a tall, bronze-haired, +freckle-faced sophomore, whom he had dodged more than once. There was +now no use to dodge; he had to run or stand his ground. + +"Boys, here's that slugging Freshie!" yelled the Soph. "We've got +him now." + +He might have been an Indian chief so wild was the whoop that +answered him. + +"Lead us to him!" + +"Oh, what we won't do to that Freshie!" + +"Come on, boys!" + +Ken heard these yells, saw a number of boys dash at him, then he broke +and ran as if for his life. The Sophs, a dozen strong, yelling loudly, +strung out after him. Ken headed across the campus. He was fleet of +foot, and gained on his pursuers. But the yells brought more Sophs on +the scene, and they turned Ken to the right. He spurted for Carlton Hall, +and almost ran into the arms of still more sophomores. Turning tail, +he fled toward the library. When he looked back it was to see the +bronze-haired leader within a hundred yards, and back of him a long +line of shouting students. + +If there was a place to hide round that library Ken could not find it. +In this circuit he lost ground. Moreover, he discovered he had not used +good judgment in choosing that direction. All along the campus was a +high iron fence. Ken thought desperately hard for an instant, then with +renewed speed he bounded straight for College Hall. + +This was the stronghold of the sophomores. As Ken sped up the gravel +walk his pursuers split their throats. + +"Run, you Freshie!" yelled one. + +"The more you run--" yelled another. + +"The more we'll skin you!" finished a third. + +Ken ran into the passageway leading through College Hall. + +It was full of Sophs hurrying toward the door to see where the yells +came from. When Ken plunged into their midst some one recognized him +and burst out with the intelligence. At the same moment Ken's pursuers +banged through the swinging doors. + +A yell arose then in the constricted passageway that seemed to Ken to +raise College Hall from its foundation. It terrified him. Like an eel +he slipped through reaching arms and darted forward. Ken was heavy and +fast on his feet, and with fear lending him wings he made a run through +College Hall that would have been a delight to the football coach. For +Ken was not dodging any sophomores now. He had played his humiliating +part of dodger long enough. He knocked them right and left, and many a +surprised Soph he tumbled over. Reaching the farther door, he went +through out into the open. + +The path before him was clear now, and he made straight for the avenue. +It was several hundred yards distant, and he got a good start toward it +before the Sophs rolled like a roaring stream from the passage. Ken saw +other students running, and also men and boys out on the avenue; but +as they could not head him off he kept to his course. On that side of +the campus a high, narrow stairway, lined by railings, led up to the +sidewalk. When Ken reached it he found the steps covered with ice. He +slipped and fell three times in the ascent, while his frantic pursuers +gained rapidly. + +Ken mounted to the sidewalk, gave vent to a gasp of relief, and, +wheeling sharply, he stumbled over two boys carrying a bushel basket +of potatoes. When he saw the large, round potatoes a daring inspiration +flashed into his mind. Taking the basket from the boys he turned to the +head of the stairway. + +The bronze-haired Soph was half-way up the steps. His followers, twelve +or more, were climbing after him. Then a line of others stretched all +the way to College Hall. + +With a grim certainty of his mastery of the situation Ken threw a huge +potato at his leading pursuer. Fair and square on the bronze head it +struck with a sharp crack. Like a tenpin the Soph went down. He plumped +into the next two fellows, knocking them off their slippery footing. +The three fell helplessly and piled up their comrades in a dense wedge +half-way down the steps. If the Sophs had been yelling before, it was +strange to note how they were yelling now. + +Deliberately Ken fired the heavy missiles. They struck with sodden +thuds against the bodies of the struggling sophomores. A poor thrower +could not very well have missed that mark, and Ken Ward was remarkably +accurate. He had a powerful overhand swing, and the potatoes flew like +bullets. One wild-eyed Soph slipped out of the tangle to leap up the +steps. Ken, throwing rather low, hit him on the shin. He buckled and +dropped down with a blood-curdling yell. Another shook himself loose +and faced upward. A better-aimed shot took him in the shoulder. He gave +an exhibition of a high and lofty somersault. Then two more started up +abreast. The first Ken hit over the eye with a very small potato, which +popped like an explosive bullet and flew into bits. As far as effect +was concerned a Martini could not have caused a more beautiful fall. +Ken landed on the second fellow in the pit of the stomach with a very +large potato. There was a sound as of a suddenly struck bass-drum. +The Soph crumpled up over the railing, slid down, and fell among his +comrades, effectually blocking the stairway. + +For the moment Ken had stopped the advance. The sophomores had been +checked by one wild freshman. There was scarcely any doubt about Ken's +wildness. He had lost his hat; his dishevelled hair stood up like a +mane; every time he hurled a potato he yelled. But there was nothing +wild about his aim. + +All at once he turned his battery on the students gathering below +the crush, trying to find a way through the kicking, slipping mass +on the narrow stairs. He scattered them as if they had been quail. +Some ran out of range. Others dove for cover and tried to dodge. +This dodging brought gleeful howls from Ken. + +"Dodge, you Indian!" yelled Ken, as he threw. And seldom it was that +dodging was of any use. Then, coming to the end of his ammunition, +he surveyed the battle-field beneath him and, turning, ran across +the avenue and down a street. At the corner of the block he looked +back. There was one man coming, but he did not look like a student. +So Ken slackened his pace and bent his steps toward his boarding-house. + +"By George! I stole those potatoes!" he exclaimed, presently. "I wonder +how I can make that good." + +Several times as he turned to look over his shoulder he saw the man he +had noticed at first. But that did not trouble him, for he was sure no +one else was following him. Ken reached his room exhausted by exertion +and excitement. He flung himself upon his bed to rest and calm his mind +so that he could think. If he had been in a bad light before, what was +his position now? Beyond all reasoning with, however, was the spirit +that gloried in his last stand. + +"By George!" he kept saying. "I wouldn't have missed that--not +for anything. They made my life a nightmare. I'll have to leave +college--go somewhere else--but I don't care." + +Later, after dinner as he sat reading, he heard a door-bell ring, a +man's voice, then footsteps in the hall. Some one tapped on his door. +Ken felt a strange, cold sensation, which soon passed, and he spoke: + +"Come in." + +The door opened to admit a short man with little, bright eyes sharp +as knives. + +"Hello, Kid," he said. Then he leisurely removed his hat and overcoat +and laid them on the bed. + +Ken's fear of he knew not what changed to amazement. At least his +visitor did not belong to the faculty. There was something familiar +about the man, yet Ken could not place him. + +"Well up in your studies?" he asked, cordially. Then he seated himself, +put a hand on each knee, and deliberately and curiously studied Ken. + +"Why, yes, pretty well up," replied Ken. He did not know how to take +the man. There was a kindliness about him which relieved Ken, yet there +was also a hard scrutiny that was embarrassing. + +"All by your lonely here," he said. + +"It is lonely," replied Ken, "but--but I don't get on very well with +the students." + +"Small wonder. Most of 'em are crazy." + +He was unmistakably friendly. Ken kept wondering where he had seen him. +Presently the man arose, and, with a wide smile on his face, reached +over and grasped Ken's right arm. + +"How's the whip?" + +"What?" asked Ken. + +"The wing--your arm, Kid, your arm." + +"Oh--Why, it's all right." + +"It's not sore--not after peggin' a bushel of potatoes on a cold day?" + +Ken laughed and raised his arm up and down. "It's weak to-night, but +not sore." + +"These boys with their India-rubber arms! It's youth, Kid, it's youth. +Say, how old are you?" + +"Sixteen." + +"What! No more than that?" + +"No." + +"How much do you weigh?" + +"About one hundred and fifty-six." + +"I thought you had some beef back of that stunt of yours to-day. Say, +Kid, it was the funniest and the best thing I've seen at the university +in ten years--and I've seen some fresh boys do some stunts, I have. +Well... Kid, you've a grand whip--a great arm--and we're goin' to do +some stunts with it." + +Ken felt something keen and significant in the very air. + +"A great arm! For what?... who are you?" + +"Say, I thought every boy in college knew me. I'm Arthurs." + +"The baseball coach! Are you the baseball coach?" exclaimed Ken, +jumping up with his heart in his throat. + +"That's me, my boy; and I'm lookin' you up." + +Ken suddenly choked with thronging emotions and sat down as limp as +a rag. + +"Yes, Kid, I'm after you strong. The way you pegged 'em to-day got me. +You've a great arm!" + + + + +III + +PRISONER OF THE SOPHS + + +"But if--it's really true--that I've a great arm," faltered Ken, +"it won't ever do me any good. I could never get on the varsity." + +"Why not?" demanded the coach. "I'll make a star of a youngster like +you, if you'll take coachin'. Why not?" + +"Oh, you don't know," returned Ken, with a long face. + +"Say, you haven't struck me as a kid with no nerve. What's wrong +with you?" + +"It was I who slugged Captain Dale and caused that big rush between +the freshmen and sophomores. I've lived like a hermit ever since." + +"So it was you who hit Dale. Well--that's bad," replied Arthurs. +He got up with sober face and began to walk the floor. "I remember +the eye he had. It was a sight.... But Dale's a good fellow. He'll--" + +"I'd do anything on earth to make up for that," burst out Ken. + +"Good! I'll tell you what we'll do," said Arthurs, his face brightening. +"We'll go right down to Dale's room now. I'll fix it up with him somehow. +The sooner the better. I'm goin' to call the baseball candidates to the +cage soon." + +They put on coats and hats and went out. Evidently the coach was thinking +hard, for he had nothing to say, but he kept a reassuring hand on Ken's +arm. They crossed the campus along the very path where Ken had fled from +the sophomores. The great circle of dormitories loomed up beyond with +lights shining in many windows. Arthurs led Ken through a court-yard and +into a wide, bright hallway. Their steps sounded with hollow click upon +the tiled floor. They climbed three flights of stairs, and then Arthurs +knocked at a door. Ken's heart palpitated. It was all so sudden; he did +not know what he was going to say or do. He did not care what happened +to him if Arthurs could only, somehow, put him right with the captain. + +A merry voice bade them enter. The coach opened the door and led Ken +across the threshold. Ken felt the glow of a warm, bright room, colorful +with pennants and posters, and cozy in its disorder. Then he saw Dale +and, behind him, several other students. There was a moment's silence in +which Ken heard his heart beat. + +Dale rose slowly from his seat, the look on his frank face changing +from welcome to intense amazement and then wild elation. + +"Whoop!" he shouted. "Lock the door! Worry Arthurs, this's your best +bet ever!" + +Dale dashed at the coach, hugged him frantically, then put his +head out of the door to bawl: "Sophs! Sophs! Sophs! Hurry call! +Number nine!... Oh, my!" + +Then he faced about, holding the door partially open. He positively +beamed upon the coach. + +"Say, Cap, what's eatin' you?" asked Arthurs. He looked dumfounded. +Ken hung to him desperately; he thought he knew what was coming. There +were hurried footsteps in the corridor and excited voices. + +"Worry, it's bully of you to bring this freshman here," declared the +captain. + +"Well, what of it?" demanded the coach. "I looked him up to-night. +He's got a great arm, and will be good material for the team. He told +me about the little scrap you had in the lecture-room. He lost his +temper, and no wonder. Anyway, he's sorry, Cap, and I fetched him +around to see if you couldn't make it up. How about it, Kid?" + +"I'm sorry--awfully sorry, Captain Dale," blurted out Ken. "I was mad +and scared, too--then you fellows hurt me. So I hit right out.... But +I'll take my medicine." + +"So--oh!" ejaculated Dale. "Well, this beats the deuce! _That's_ why +you're here?" + +The door opened wide to admit half a dozen eager-faced youths. + +"Fellows, here's a surprise," said Dale. "Young Ward, the freshman! +the elusive slugging freshman, fast on his feet, and, as Worry here +says, a lad with a great arm!" + +"WARD!" roared the Sophs in unison. + +"Hold on, fellows--wait--no rough-house yet--wait," ordered Dale. +"Ward's here of his own free will!" + +Silence ensued after the captain spoke. While he turned to lock the +door the Sophs stared open-mouthed at Ken. Arthurs had a worried look, +and he kept his hand on Ken. Dale went to a table and began filling his +pipe. Then he fixed sharp, thoughtful eyes upon his visitors. + +"Worry, you say you brought this freshman here to talk baseball?" he asked. + +"Sure I did," blustered Arthurs. It was plain now where he got the name +that Dale called him. "What's in the wind, anyhow?" + +Dale then gravely spoke to Ken. "So you came here to see me? Sorry +you slugged me once? Want to make up for it somehow, because you think +you've a chance for the team, and don't want me to be sore on you? +That it?" + +"Not exactly," replied Ken. "I'd want to let you get square with me even +if you weren't the varsity captain." + +"Well, you've more than squared yourself with me--by coming here. You'll +realize that presently. But don't you know what's happened, what the +freshmen have done?" + +"No; I don't." + +"You haven't been near the university since this afternoon when you +pulled off the potato stunt?" + +"I should say I haven't." + +This brought a laugh from the Sophs. + +"You were pretty wise," went on Dale. "The Sophs didn't love you then. +But they're going to--understand?" + +Ken shook his head, too bewildered and mystified to reply. + +"Well, now, here's Giraffe Boswick. Look what you did to him!" + +Ken's glance followed the wave of Dale's hand and took in the tall, +bronze-haired sophomore who had led the chase that afternoon. Boswick +wore a huge discolored bruise over his left eye. It was hideous. Ken +was further sickened to recollect that Boswick was one of the varsity +pitchers. But the fellow was smiling amiably at Ken, as amiably as +one eye would permit. The plot thickened about Ken. He felt his legs +trembling under him. + +"Boswick, you forgive Ward, don't you--now?" continued Dale, with +a smile. + +"With all my heart!" exclaimed the pitcher. "To see him here would make +me forgive anything." + +Coach Arthurs was ill at ease. He evidently knew students, and he did +not relish the mystery, the hidden meaning. + +"Say, you wise guys make me sick," he called out, gruffly. "Here's a +kid that comes right among you. He's on the level, and more'n that, +he's game! Now, Cap, I fetched him here, and I won't stand for a whole +lot. Get up on your toes! Get it over!" + +"Sit down Worry, here's a cigar--light up," said Dale, soothingly. +"It's all coming right, lovely, I say. Ward was game to hunt me up, +a thousand times gamer than he knows.... See here, Ward, where are +you from?" + +"I live a good long day's travel from the university," answered Ken, +evasively. + +"I thought so. Did you ever hear of the bowl-fight, the great event +of the year here at Wayne University?" + +"Yes, I've heard--read a little about it. But I don't know what it is." + +"I'll tell you," went on Dale. "There are a number of yearly rushes and +scrapes between the freshmen and sophomores, but the bowl-fight is the +one big meeting, the time-honored event. It has been celebrated here for +many years. It takes place on a fixed date. Briefly, here's what comes +off: The freshmen have the bowl in their keeping this year because they +won it in the last fight. They are to select one of their number, always +a scrappy fellow, and one honored by the class, and they call him the +bowl-man. A week before the fight, on a certain date, the freshmen hide +this bowl-man or protect him from the sophomores until the day of the +fight, when they all march to Grant field in fighting-togs. Should the +sophomores chance to find him and hold him prisoner until after the date +of the bowl-fight they win the bowl. The same applies also in case the +bowl is in possession of the sophomores. But for ten years neither class +has captured the other's bowl-man. So they have fought it out on the +field until the bowl was won." + +"Well, what has all that got to do with me?" asked Ken. He felt curiously +light-headed. + +"It has a _little_ to do with you--hasn't it, fellows?" said Dale, in +slow, tantalizing voice. + +Worry Arthurs lost his worried look and began to smile and rub his hands. + +"Ward, look here," added Dale, now speaking sharply. "You've been picked +for the bowl-man!" + +"Me--me?" stammered Ken. + +"No other. The freshmen were late in choosing a man this year. To-day, +after your stunt--holding up that bunch of sophomores--they had a meeting +in Carlton Club and picked you. Most of them didn't even know your name. +I'll bet the whole freshman class is hunting for you right now." + +"What for?" queried Ken, weakly. + +"Why, I told you. The bowl-fight is only a week off--and here you are. +_And here you'll stay until that date's past!_" + +Ken drew a quick breath. He began to comprehend. The sudden huzzahs of +Dale's companions gave him further enlightenment. + +"But, Captain Dale," he said, breathlessly, "if it's so--if my class +has picked me--I can't throw them down. I don't know a soul in my +class. I haven't a friend. But I won't throw them down--not to be +forever free of dodging Sophs--not even to square myself with you." + +"Ward, you're all right!" shouted Dale, his eyes shining. + +In the quiet moment that followed, with all the sophomores watching him +intently, Ken Ward instinctively felt that his measure had been taken. + +"I won't stay here," said Ken, and for the first time his voice rang. + +"Oh yes, you will," replied Dale, laughing. + +Quick as a cat Ken leaped for the door and got it unlocked and half open +before some one clutched him. Then Dale was on him close and hard. Ken +began to struggle. He was all muscle, and twice he broke from them. + +"His legs! Grab his legs! He's a young bull!" + +"We'll trim you now, Freshie!" + +"You potato-masher!" + +"Go for his wind!" + +Fighting and wrestling with all his might Ken went down under a half +dozen sophomores. Then Dale was astride his chest, and others were +sitting on his hands and feet. + +"Boys, don't hurt that arm!" yelled Worry Arthurs. + +"Ward, will you be good now and stop scrapping or shall we tie you?" +asked Dale. "You can't get away. The thing to do is to give your word +not to try. We want to make this easy for you. Your word of honor, now?" + +"Never!" cried Ken. + +"I knew you wouldn't," said Dale. "We'll have to keep you under guard." + +They let him get up. He was panting, and his nose was bleeding, and one +of his knuckles was skinned. That short struggle had been no joke. The +Sophs certainly meant to keep him prisoner. Still, he was made to feel +at ease. They could not do enough for him. + +"It's tough luck, Ward, that you should have fallen into our hands this +way," said Dale. "But you couldn't help it. You will be kept in my rooms +until after the fifteenth. Meals will be brought you, and your books; +everything will be done for your comfort. Your whereabouts, of course, +will be a secret, and you will be closely watched. Worry, remember you +are bound to silence. And Ward, perhaps it wasn't an ill wind that blew +you here. You've had your last scrap with a Soph, that's sure. As for +what brought you here--it's more than square; and I'll say this: if you +can play ball as well as you can scrap, old Wayne has got a star." + + + + +IV + +THE CALL FOR CANDIDATES + + +There were five rooms in Dale's suite in the dormitory, and three +other sophomores shared them with him. They confined Ken in the end +room, where he was safely locked and guarded from any possible chance +to escape. + +For the first day or two it was irksome for Ken; but as he and his +captors grew better acquainted the strain eased up, and Ken began to +enjoy himself as he had not since coming to the university. + +He could not have been better provided for. His books were at hand, +and even notes of the lectures he was missing were brought to him. The +college papers and magazines interested him, and finally he was much +amused by an account of his mysterious disappearance. All in a day he +found himself famous. Then Dale and his room-mates were so friendly and +jolly that if his captivity had not meant the disgrace of the freshman +class, Ken would have rejoiced in it. He began to thaw out, though he +did not lose his backwardness. The life of the great university began +to be real to him. Almost the whole sophomore class, in squads of twos +and threes and sixes, visited Dale's rooms during that week. No Soph +wanted to miss a sight of a captive bowl-man. Ken felt so callow and +fresh in their presence that he scarcely responded to their jokes. +Worry Arthur's nickname of "Kid" vied with another the coach conferred +on Ken, and that was "Peg." It was significant slang expressing the +little baseball man's baseball notion of Ken's throwing power. + +The evening was the most interesting time for Ken. There was always +something lively going on. He wondered when the boys studied. When +some of the outside students dropped in there were banjo and guitar +playing, college songs, and college gossip. + +"Come on, Peg, be a good fellow," they said, and laughed at his refusal +to smoke or drink beer. + +"Molly!" mocked one. + +"Willy-boy!" added another. + +Ken was callow, young, and backward; but he had a temper, and this +kind of banter roused it easily. The red flamed into his cheeks. + +"I promised my mother I wouldn't smoke or drink or gamble while I +was in college," he retorted, struggling with shame and anger. +"And I--I won't." + +Dale stopped the good-natured chaff. "Fellows, stop guying Ward; +cut it out, I tell you. He's only a kid freshman, but he's liable +to hand you a punch, and if he does you'll remember it. Besides, +he's right.... Look here, Ward, you stick to that promise. It's a +good promise to stick to, and if you're going in for athletics it's +the best ever." + +Worry Arthurs happened to be present on this evening, and he seconded +Dale in more forceful speech. "There's too much boozin' and smokin' +of them coffin nails goin' on in this college. It's none of my affair +except with the boys I'm coachin', and if I ketch any one breakin' my +rules after we go to the trainin'-table he'll sit on the bench. There's +Murray; why, he says there are fellows in college who could break records +if they'd train. Half of sprintin' or baseball or football is condition." + +"Oh, Worry, you and Mac always make a long face over things. Wayne has +won a few championships, hasn't she?" + +"The varsity ball team will be a frost this year, that's sure," +replied Arthurs, gloomily. + +"How do you make that out?" demanded Dale, plainly nettled. "You've +hinted it before to me. Why won't we be stronger than last season? +Didn't we have a crackerjack team, the fastest that ever represented +old Wayne? Didn't we smother the small college teams and beat Place +twice, shut out Herne the first game, and play for a tie the second?" + +"You'll see, all right, all right," replied Arthurs, gloomier than ever; +and he took his hat and went out. + +Dale slammed his cards down on the table. + +"Fellows, is it any wonder we call him Worry? Already he's begun to +fuss over the team. Ever since he's been here he has driven the baseball +captains and managers crazy. It's only his way, but it's so irritating. +He's a magnificent coach, and Wayne owes her great baseball teams to him. +But he's hard on captains. I see my troubles. The idea of this year's +team being a frost--with all the old stars back in college--with only +two positions to fill! And there are half a dozen cracks in college to +fight for these two positions--fellows I played against on the summer +nines last year. Worry's idea is ridiculous." + +This bit of baseball talk showed Ken the obstacles in the way of a +freshman making the varsity team. What a small chance there would be +for him! Still he got a good deal of comfort out of Arthurs' interest +in him, and felt that he would be happy to play substitute this season, +and make the varsity in his sophomore year. + +The day of the bowl-fight passed, and Ken's captivity became history. The +biggest honor of the sophomore year went to Dale and his room-mates. Ken +returned to his department, where he was made much of, as he had brought +fame to a new and small branch of the great university. It was a pleasure +to walk the campus without fear of being pounced upon. Ken's dodging and +loneliness--perhaps necessary and curbing nightmares in the life of a +freshman--were things of the past. He made acquaintances, slowly lost +his backwardness, and presently found college life opening to him bright +and beautiful. Ken felt strongly about things. And as his self-enforced +exile had been lonely and bitter, so now his feeling that he was really +a part of the great university seemed almost too good to be true. He +began to get a glimmering of the meaning of his father's love for the +old college. Students and professors underwent some vague change in his +mind. He could not tell what, he did not think much about it, but there +was a warmer touch, a sense of something nearer to him. + +Then suddenly a blow fell upon the whole undergraduate body. It was a +thunderbolt. It affected every student, but Ken imagined it concerned +his own college fortunes more intimately. The athletic faculty barred +every member of the varsity baseball team! The year before the faculty +had advised and requested the players not to become members of the +summer baseball nines. Their wishes had not been heeded. Captain Dale +and his fast players had been much in demand by the famous summer nines. +Some of them went to the Orange Athletic Club, others to Richfield Springs, +others to Cape May, and Dale himself had captained the Atlantic City team. + +The action of the faculty was commended by the college magazine. +Even the students, though chafing under it, could not but acknowledge +its justice. The other universities had adopted such a rule, and Wayne +must fall in line. The objections to summer ball-playing were not few, +and the particular one was that it affected the amateur standing of +the college player. He became open to charges of professionalism. At +least, all his expenses were paid, and it was charged that usually he +was paid for his services. + +Ken's first feeling when he learned this news was one of blank dismay. +The great varsity team wiped off the slate! How Place and Herne would +humble old Wayne this year! Then the long, hard schedule, embracing +thirty games, at least one with every good team in the East--how would +an untried green team fare against that formidable array? Then Ken +suddenly felt ashamed of a selfish glee, for he was now sure of a place +on the varsity. + +For several days nothing else was talked about by the students. Whenever +Dale or his players appeared at Carlton Hall they were at once surrounded +by a sympathetic crowd. If it was a bitter blow to the undergraduates, +what was it to the members of the varsity? Their feeling showed in pale, +stern faces. It was reported about the campus that Murray and Arthurs +and Dale, with the whole team, went to the directors of the athletic +faculty and besought them to change or modify the decision. Both the +trainer and the coach, who had brought such glory to the university, +threatened to resign their places. The disgrace of a pitiably weak +team of freshmen being annihilated by minor colleges was eloquently +put before the directors. But the decision was final. + +One evening early in February Worry Arthurs called upon Ken. His face +was long, and his mustache drooped. + +"Kid, what do you think of 'em fat-heads on the faculty queerin' my +team?" he asked. "Best team I ever developed. Say, but the way they +could work the hit-and-run game! Any man on the team could hit to +right field when there was a runner goin' down from first." + +"Maybe things will turn out all right," suggested Ken, hopefully. + +Worry regarded his youthful sympathizer with scorn. + +"It takes two years to teach most college kids the rudiments of baseball. +Look at this year's schedule." Worry produced a card and waved it at Ken. +"The hardest schedule Wayne ever had! And I've got to play a kid team." + +Ken was afraid to utter any more of his hopes, and indeed he felt them +to be visionary. + +"The call for candidates goes out to-morrow," went on the coach. "I'll +bet there'll be a mob at the cage. Every fool kid in the university will +think he's sure of a place. Now, Ward, what have you played?" + +"Everywhere; but infield mostly." + +"Every kid has played the whole game. What position have you played most?" + +"Third base." + +"Good! You've the arm for that. Well, I'm anxious to see you work, +but don't exert yourself in the cage. This is a tip. See! I'll be +busy weedin' out the bunch, and won't have time until we get out on +the field. You can run around the track every day, get your wind and +your legs right, hold in on your arm. The cage is cold. I've seen many +a good wing go to the bad there. But your chance looks good. College +baseball is different from any other kind. You might say it's played +with the heart. I've seen youngsters go in through grit and spirit, +love of playin' for their college, and beat out fellows who were their +superiors physically. Well, good-night.... Say, there's one more thing. +I forgot it. Are you up in your subjects?" + +"I surely am," replied Ken. "I've had four months of nothing but study." + +"The reason I ask is this: That faculty has made another rule, the +one-year residence rule, they call it. You have to pass your exams, +get your first year over, before you can represent any athletic club. +So, in case I can use you on the team, you would have to go up for your +exams two months or more ahead of time. That scare you?" + +"Not a bit. I could pass mine right now," answered Ken, confidently. + +"Kid, you and me are goin' to get along.... Well, good-night, and don't +forget what I said." + +Ken was too full for utterance; he could scarcely mumble good-night to +the coach. He ran up-stairs three steps to the jump, and when he reached +his room he did a war dance and ended by standing on his head. When he +had gotten rid of his exuberance he sat down at once to write to his +brother Hal about it, and also his forest-ranger friend, Dick Leslie, +with whom he had spent an adventurous time the last summer. + +At Carlton Hall, next day, Ken saw a crowd of students before +the bulletin-board and, edging in, he read the following notice: + + + BASEBALL! + + CALL FOR CANDIDATES FOR THE VARSITY BASEBALL TEAM + + The Athletic Directors of the University earnestly + request every student who can play ball, or who + thinks he can, to present himself to Coach Arthurs + at the Cage on Feb. 3rd. + + There will be no freshman team this year, and a + new team entirely will be chosen for the varsity. + Every student will have a chance. Applicants are + requested to familiarize themselves with the new + eligibility rules. + + + + +V + +THE CAGE + + +Ken Ward dug down into his trunk for his old baseball suit and donned +it with strange elation. It was dirty and torn, and the shoes that went +with it were worn out, but Ken was thinking of what hard ball-playing +they represented. He put his overcoat on over his sweater, took up his +glove and sallied forth. + +A thin coating of ice and snow covered the streets. Winter still +whistled in the air. To Ken in his eagerness spring seemed a long +way off. On his way across the campus he saw strings of uniformed +boys making for Grant Field, and many wearing sweaters over their +every-day clothes. The cage was situated at one end of the field +apart from the other training-quarters. When Ken got there he found +a mob of players crowding to enter the door of the big barn-like +structure. Others were hurrying away. Near the door a man was taking +up tickets like a doorkeeper of a circus, and he kept shouting: +"Get your certificates from the doctor. Every player must pass a +physical examination. Get your certificates." + +Ken turned somewhat in disgust at so much red tape and he jostled into +a little fellow, almost knocking him over. + +"Wull! Why don't you fall all over me?" growled this amiable individual. +"For two cents I'd hand you one." + +The apology on Ken's lips seemed to halt of its own accord. + +"Sorry I haven't any change in these clothes," returned Ken. He saw a +wiry chap, older than he was, but much smaller, and of most aggressive +front. He had round staring eyes, a protruding jaw, and his mouth turned +down at the corners. He wore a disreputable uniform and a small green +cap over one ear. + +"Aw! don't get funny!" he replied. + +Ken moved away muttering to himself: "That fellow's a grouch." Much +to his amazement, when he got to the training-house, Ken found that he +could not get inside because so many players were there ahead of him. +After waiting an hour or more he decided he could not have his physical +examination at that time, and he went back to the cage. The wide door +was still blocked with players, but at the other end of the building +Ken found an entrance. He squeezed into a crowd of students and worked +forward until stopped by a railing. + +Ken was all eyes and breathless with interest. The cage was a huge, +open, airy room, lighted by many windows, and, with the exception +of the platform where he stood, it was entirely enclosed by heavy +netting. The floor was of bare ground well raked and loosened to +make it soft. This immense hall was full of a motley crowd of +aspiring ball-players. + +Worry Arthurs, with his head sunk in the collar of his overcoat, and +his shoulders hunched up as if he was about to spring upon something, +paced up and down the rear end of the cage. Behind him a hundred or +more players in line slowly marched toward the slab of rubber which +marked the batting position. Ken remembered that the celebrated coach +always tried out new players at the bat first. It was his belief that +batting won games. + +"Bunt one and hit one!" he yelled to the batters. + +From the pitcher's box a lanky individual was trying to locate the +plate. Ken did not need a second glance to see that this fellow was +no pitcher. + +"Stop posin', and pitch!" yelled Arthurs. + +One by one the batters faced the plate, swung valiantly or wildly at +balls and essayed bunts. Few hit the ball out and none made a creditable +bunt. After their turn at bat they were ordered to the other end of the +cage, where they fell over one another trying to stop the balls that +were hit. Every few moments the coach would yell for one of them, any +one, to take a turn at pitching. Ken noticed that Arthurs gave a sharp +glance at each new batter, and one appeared to be sufficient. More and +more ambitious players crowded into the cage, until there were so many +that batted balls rarely missed hitting some one. + +Presently Ken Ward awoke from his thrilling absorption in the scene to +note another side of it. The students around him were making game of +the players. + +"What a bunch!" + +"Look at that fuzzy gosling with the yellow pants!" + +"Keep your shanks out of the way, Freshie!" + +"Couldn't hit a balloon!" + +Whenever a batter hit a ball into the crowd of dodging players down +the cage these students howled with glee. Ken discovered that he was +standing near Captain Dale and other members of the barred varsity. + +"Say, Dale, how do the candidates shape up?" asked a student. + +"This is a disgrace to Wayne," declared Dale, bitterly. "I never saw +such a mob of spindle-legged kids in my life. Look at them! Scared to +death! That fellow never swung at a ball before--that one never heard +of a bunt--they throw like girls--Oh! this is sickening, fellows. I see +where Worry goes to his grave this year and old Wayne gets humbled by +one-horse colleges." + +Ken took one surprised glance at the captain he had admired so much +and then he slipped farther over in the crowd. Perhaps Dale had spoken +truth, yet somehow it jarred upon Ken's sensitive nature. The thing +that affected Ken most was the earnestness of the uniformed boys trying +their best to do well before the great coach. Some were timid, uncertain; +others were rash and over-zealous. Many a ball cracked off a player's +knee or wrist, and more than once Ken saw a bloody finger. It was cold +in the cage. Even an ordinarily hit ball must have stung the hands, +and the way a hard grounder cracked was enough to excite sympathy among +those scornful spectators, if nothing more. But they yelled in delight +at every fumble, at everything that happened. Ken kept whispering to +himself: "I can't see the fun in it. I can't!" + +Arthurs dispensed with the bunting and ordered one hit each for +the batters. "Step up and hit!" he ordered, hoarsely. "Don't be +afraid--never mind that crowd--step into the ball and swing natural.... +Next! Hurry, boys!" + +Suddenly a deep-chested student yelled out with a voice that drowned +every other sound. + +"Hard luck, Worry! No use! You'll never find a hitter among those misfits!" + +The coach actually leaped up in his anger and his face went from crimson +to white. Ken thought it was likely that he recognized the voice. + +"You knocker! You knocker!" he cried. "That's a fine college spirit, +ain't it? You're a fine lot of students, I don't think. Now shut up, +every one of you, or I'll fire you out of the cage.... And right here +at the start you knockers take this from me--I'll find more than one +hitter among those kids!" + +A little silence fell while the coach faced that antagonistic crowd +of spectators. Ken was amazed the second time, and now because of the +intensity of feeling that seemed to hang in the air. Ken felt a warm +rush go over him, and that moment added greatly to his already strong +liking for Worry Arthurs. + +Then the coach turned to his work, the batting began again, and the +crack of the ball, the rush of feet, the sharp cries of the players +mingled once more with the laughter and caustic wit of the unsympathetic +audience. + +Ken Ward went back to his room without having removed his overcoat. +He was thoughtful that night and rebellious against the attitude of +the student body. A morning paper announced the fact that over three +hundred candidates had presented themselves to Coach Arthurs. It went +on to say that the baseball material represented was not worth considering +and that old Wayne's varsity team must be ranked with those of the +fifth-rate colleges. This, following Ken's experience at the cage on +the first day, made him angry and then depressed. The glamour of the +thing seemed to fade away. Ken lost the glow, the exhilaration of his +first feelings. Everybody took a hopeless view of Wayne's baseball +prospects. Ken Ward, however, was not one to stay discouraged long, +and when he came out of his gloom it was with his fighting spirit +roused. Once and for all he made up his mind to work heart and soul +for his college, to be loyal to Arthurs, to hope and believe in the +future of the new varsity, whether or not he was lucky enough to win +a place upon it. + +Next day, going early to the training-quarters, he took his place +in a squad waiting for the physical examination. It was a wearisome +experience. At length Ken's turn came with two other players, one of +whom he recognized as the sour-complexioned fellow of the day before. + +"Wull, you're pretty fresh," he said to Ken as they went in. He had a +most exasperating manner. + +"Say, I don't like you a whole lot," retorted Ken. + +Then a colored attendant ushered them into a large room in which were +several men. The boys were stripped to the waist. + +"Come here, Murray," said the doctor. "There's some use in looking +these boys over, particularly this husky youngster." + +A tall man in a white sweater towered over Ken. It was the famous +trainer. He ran his hands over Ken's smooth skin and felt of the +muscles. + +"Can you run?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied Ken. + +"Are you fast?" + +"Yes." + +Further inquiries brought from Ken his name, age, weight, that he had +never been ill, had never used tobacco or intoxicating drinks. + +"Ward, eh? 'Peg' Ward," said Murray, smiling. "Worry Arthurs has the +call on you--else, my boy, I'd whisper football in your ear. Mebbe I +will, anyhow, if you keep up in your studies. That'll do for you." + +Ken's companions also won praise from the trainer. They gave their +names as Raymond and Weir. The former weighed only one hundred and +twenty-two, but he was a knot of muscles. The other stood only five +feet, but he was very broad and heavy, his remarkably compact build +giving an impression of great strength. Both replied in the negative +to the inquiries as to use of tobacco or spirits. + +"Boys, that's what we like to hear," said the doctor. "You three ought +to pull together." + +Ken wondered what the doctor would have said if he had seen the way +these three boys glared at each other in the dressing-room. And he +wondered, too, what was the reason for such open hostility. The answer +came to him in the thought that perhaps they were both trying for the +position he wanted on the varsity. Most likely they had the same idea +about him. That was the secret of little Raymond's pugnacious front and +Weir's pompous air; and Ken realized that the same reason accounted for +his own attitude toward them. He wanted very much to tell Raymond that +he was a little grouch and Weir that he looked like a puffed-up toad. +All the same Ken was not blind to Weir's handsome appearance. The +sturdy youngster had an immense head, a great shock of bright brown +hair, flashing gray eyes, and a clear bronze skin. + +"They'll both make the team, I'll bet," thought Ken. "They look it. +I hope I don't have to buck against them." Then as they walked toward +the cage Ken forced himself to ask genially: "Raymond, what're you +trying for? And you, Weir?" + +"Wull, if it's any of your fresh business, I'm not _trying_ for any +place. I'm going to play infield. You can carry my bat," replied Raymond, +sarcastically. + +"Much obliged," retorted Ken, "I'm not going to substitute. I've a +corner on that varsity infield myself." + +Weir glanced at them with undisguised disdain. "You can save yourselves +useless work by not trying for my position. I intend to play infield." + +"Wull, puff-up, now, puff-up!" growled Raymond. + +Thus the three self-appointed stars of the varsity bandied words +among themselves as they crossed the field. At the cage door they +became separated to mingle with the pushing crowd of excited boys +in uniforms. + +By dint of much squeezing and shoulder-work Ken got inside the cage. +He joined the squad in the upper end and got in line for the batting. +Worry Arthurs paced wildly to and fro yelling for the boys to hit. A +dense crowd of students thronged the platform and laughed, jeered, and +stormed at the players. The cage was in such an uproar that Arthurs +could scarcely be heard. Watching from the line Ken saw Weir come to +bat and stand aggressively and hit the ball hard. It scattered the flock +of fielders. Then Raymond came along, and, batting left-handed, did +likewise. Arthurs stepped forward and said something to both. After +Ken's turn at bat the coach said to him: "Get out of here. Go run round +the track. Do it every day. Don't come back until Monday." + +As Ken hurried out he saw and felt the distinction with which he was +regarded by the many players whom he crowded among in passing. When +he reached the track he saw Weir, Raymond, and half a dozen other +fellows going round at a jog-trot. Weir was in the lead, setting the +pace. Ken fell in behind. + +The track was the famous quarter-mile track upon which Murray trained +his sprinters. When Ken felt the spring of the cinder-path in his feet, +the sensation of buoyancy, the eager wildfire pride that flamed over +him, he wanted to break into headlong flight. The first turn around the +track was delight; the second pleasure in his easy stride; the third +brought a realization of distance. When Ken had trotted a mile he was +not tired, he still ran easily, but he began to appreciate that his +legs were not wings. The end of the second mile found him sweating +freely and panting. + +Two miles were enough for the first day. Ken knew it and he began to +wonder why the others, especially Weir, did not know it. But Weir jogged +on, his head up, his hair flying, as if he had not yet completed his +first quarter. The other players stretched out behind him. Ken saw +Raymond's funny little green cap bobbing up and down, and it made him +angry. Why could not the grouch get a decent cap, anyway? + +At the end of the third mile Ken began to labor. His feet began to +feel weighted, his legs to ache, his side to hurt. He was wringing wet; +his skin burned; his breath whistled. But he kept doggedly on. It had +become a contest now. Ken felt instinctively that every runner would +not admit he had less staying power than the others. Ken declared to +himself that he could be as bull-headed as any of them. Still to see +Weir jogging on steady and strong put a kind of despair on Ken. For +every lap of the fourth mile a runner dropped out, and at the half of +the fifth only Weir, Raymond, and Ken kept to the track. + +Ken hung on gasping at every stride. He was afraid his heart would burst. +The pain in his side was as keen as a knife thrust. His feet were lead. +Every rod he felt must be his last, yet spurred on desperately, and +he managed to keep at the heels of the others. It might kill him, +but he would not stop until he dropped. Raymond was wagging along +ready to fall any moment, and Weir was trotting slowly with head down. +On the last lap of the fifth mile they all stopped as by one accord. +Raymond fell on the grass; Ken staggered to a bench, and Weir leaned +hard against the fence. They were all blowing like porpoises and +regarded each other as mortal enemies. Weir gazed grandly at the +other two; Raymond glowered savagely at him and then at Ken; and +Ken in turn gave them withering glances. Without a word the three +contestants for a place on the varsity then went their several ways. + + + + +VI + +OUT ON THE FIELD + + +When Ken presented himself at the cage on the following Monday it was +to find that Arthurs had weeded out all but fifty of the candidates. +Every afternoon for a week the coach put these players through batting +and sliding practice, then ordered them out to run around the track. +On the next Monday only twenty-five players were left, and as the number +narrowed down the work grew more strenuous, the rivalry keener, and the +tempers of the boys more irascible. + +Ken discovered it was work and not by any means pleasant work. He +fortified himself by the thought that the pleasure and glory, the +real play, was all to come as a reward. Worry Arthurs drove them +relentlessly. Nothing suited him; not a player knew how to hold a +bat, to stand at the plate, to slide right, or to block a ground ball. + +"Don't hit with your left hand on top--unless you're left-handed. +Don't grip the end of the bat. There! Hold steady now, step out and +into the ball, and swing clean and level. If you're afraid of bein' +hit by the ball, get out of here!" + +It was plain to Ken that not the least of Arthurs' troubles was the +incessant gibing of the students on the platform. There was always a +crowd watching the practice, noisy, scornful, abusive. They would never +recover from the shock of having that seasoned champion varsity barred +out of athletics. Every once in a while one of them would yell out: +"Wait, Worry! oh! Worry, wait till the old varsity plays your yanigans!" +And every time the coach's face would burn. But he had ceased to talk +back to the students. Besides, the athletic directors were always +present. They mingled with the candidates and talked baseball to them +and talked to Arthurs. Some of them might have played ball once, but +they did not talk like it. Their advice and interference served only +to make the coach's task harder. + +Another Monday found only twenty players in the squad. That day Arthurs +tried out catchers, pitchers, and infielders. He had them all throwing, +running, fielding, working like Trojans. They would jump at his yell, +dive after the ball, fall over it, throw it anywhere but in the right +direction, run wild, and fight among themselves. The ever-flowing +ridicule from the audience was anything but a stimulus. So much of +it coming from the varsity and their adherents kept continually in the +minds of the candidates their lack of skill, their unworthiness to +represent the great university in such a popular sport as baseball. So +that even if there were latent ability in any of the candidates no one +but the coach could see it. And often he could not conceal his disgust +and hopelessness. + +"Battin' practice!" he ordered, sharply. "Two hits and a bunt to-day. +Get a start on the bunt and dig for first. Hustle now!" + +He placed one player to pitch to the hitters, another to catch, and as +soon as the hitters had their turn they took to fielding. Two turns for +each at bat left the coach more than dissatisfied. + +"You're all afraid of the ball," he yelled. "This ain't no dodgin' game. +Duck your nut if the ball's goin' to hit you, but stop lookin' for it. +Forget it. Another turn now. I'm goin' to umpire. Let's see if you know +the difference between a ball and a strike." + +He changed the catcher and, ordering Ken to the pitcher's box, he +stepped over behind him. "Peg," he said, speaking low, "you're not +tryin' for pitcher, I know, but you've got speed and control and I +want you to peg 'em a few. Mind now, easy with your arm. By that +I mean hold in, don't whip it. And you peg 'em as near where I say +as you can; see?" + +As the players, one after another, faced the box, the coach kept saying +to Ken: "Drive that fellow away from the plate... give this one a low +ball... now straight over the pan. Say, Peg, you've got a nice ball +there... put a fast one under this fellow's chin." + +"Another turn, now, boys!" he yelled. "I tell you--_stand up to the +plate!_" Then he whispered to Ken. "Hit every one of 'em! Peg 'em now, +any place." + +"Hit them?" asked Ken, amazed. + +"That's what I said." + +"But--Mr. Arthurs--" + +"See here, Peg. Don't talk back to me. Do as I say. We'll peg a little +nerve into this bunch. Now I'll go back of the plate and make a bluff." + +Arthurs went near to the catcher's position. Then he said: "Now, +fellows, Ward's pretty wild and I've told him to speed up a few. +Stand right up and step into 'em." + +The first batter was Weir. Ken swung easily and let drive. Straight as +a string the ball sped for the batter. Like a flash he dropped flat in +the dust and the ball just grazed him. It was a narrow escape. Weir +jumped up, his face flaring, his hair on end, and he gazed hard at Ken +before picking up the bat. + +"Batter up!" ordered the coach. "Do you think this's a tea-party?" + +Weir managed by quick contortions to get through his time at bat +without being hit. Three players following him were not so lucky. + +"Didn't I say he was wild?" yelled the coach. "Batter up, now!" + +The next was little Raymond. He came forward cautiously, eying Ken +with disapproval. Ken could not resist putting on a little more steam, +and the wind of the first ball whipped off Raymond's green cap. Raymond +looked scared and edged away from the plate, and as the second ball +came up he stepped wide with his left foot. + +"Step into the ball," said the coach. "Don't pull away. Step in or +you'll never hit." + +The third ball cracked low down on Raymond's leg. + +"Oh!--Oh!--Oh!" he howled, beginning to hop and hobble about the cage. + +"Next batter!" called out Arthurs. + +And so it went on until the most promising player in the cage came to +bat. This was Graves, a light-haired fellow, tall, built like a wedge. +He had more confidence than any player in the squad and showed up well +in all departments of the game. Moreover, he was talky, aggressive, +and more inclined to be heard and felt. He stepped up and swung his +bat at Ken. + +"You wild freshman! If you hit me!" he cried. + +Ken Ward had not fallen in love with any of his rivals for places on +the team, but he especially did not like Graves. He did not stop to +consider the reason of it at the moment, still he remembered several +tricks Graves had played, and he was not altogether sorry for the +coach's order. Swinging a little harder, Ken threw straight at Graves. + +"_Wham!_" The ball struck him fair on the hip. Limping away from +the plate he shook his fist at Ken. + +"Batter up!" yelled Arthurs. "A little more speed now, Peg. You see it +ain't nothin' to get hit. Why, that's in the game. It don't hurt much. +I never cared when I used to get hit. Batter up!" + +Ken sent up a very fast ball, on the outside of the plate. The batter +swung wide, and the ball, tipping the bat, glanced to one side and +struck Arthurs in the stomach with a deep sound. + +Arthurs' round face went red; he gurgled and gasped for breath; he was +sinking to his knees when the yelling and crowing of the students on +the platform straightened him up. He walked about a few minutes, then +ordered sliding practice. + +The sliding-board was brought out. It was almost four feet wide and +twenty long and covered with carpet. + +"Run hard, boys, and don't let up just before you slide. Keep your +speed and dive. Now at it!" + +A line of players formed down the cage. The first one dashed forward +and plunged at the board, hitting it with a bang. The carpet was +slippery and he slid off and rolled in the dust. The second player +leaped forward and, sliding too soon, barely reached the board. One +by one the others followed. + +"Run fast now!" yelled the coach. "Don't flinch.... Go down hard +and slide... light on your hands... keep your heads up... slide!" + +This feature of cage-work caused merriment among the onlookers. That +sliding-board was a wonderful and treacherous thing. Most players slid +off it as swift as a rocket. Arthurs kept them running so fast and so +close together that at times one would shoot off the board just as the +next would strike it. They sprawled on the ground, rolled over, and +rooted in the dust. One skinned his nose on the carpet; another slid +the length of the board on his ear. All the time they kept running and +sliding, the coach shouted to them, and the audience roared with laughter. +But it was no fun for the sliders. Raymond made a beautiful slide, and +Graves was good, but all the others were ludicrous. + +It was a happy day for Ken, and for all the candidates, when the coach +ordered them out on the field. This was early in March. The sun was +bright, the frost all out of the ground, and a breath of spring was in +the air. How different it was from the cold, gloomy cage! Then the mocking +students, although more in evidence than before, were confined to the +stands and bleachers, and could not so easily be heard. But the presence +of the regular varsity team, practising at the far end of Grant Field, +had its effect on the untried players. + +The coach divided his players into two nines and had them practise +batting first, then fielding, and finally started them in a game, +with each candidate playing the position he hoped to make on the +varsity. + +It was a weird game. The majority of the twenty candidates displayed +little knowledge of baseball. School-boys on the commons could have +beaten them. They were hooted and hissed by the students, and before +half the innings were played the bleachers and stands were empty. That +was what old Wayne's students thought of Arthurs' candidates. + +In sharp contrast to most of them, Weir, Raymond, and Graves showed +they had played the game somewhere. Weir at short-stop covered ground +well, but he could not locate first base. Raymond darted here and there +quick as a flash, and pounced upon the ball like a huge frog. Nothing +got past him, but he juggled the ball. Graves was a finished and +beautiful fielder; he was easy, sure, yet fast, and his throw from +third to first went true as a line. + +Graves's fine work accounted for Ken Ward's poor showing. Both were +trying for third base, and when Ken once saw his rival play out on the +field he not only lost heart and became confused, but he instinctively +acknowledged that Graves was far his superior. After all his hopes and +the kind interest of the coach it was a most bitter blow. Ken had never +played so poor a game. The ball blurred in his tear-wet eyes and looked +double. He did not field a grounder. He muffed foul flies and missed +thrown balls. It did not occur to him that almost all of the players +around him were in the same boat. He could think of nothing but the +dashing away of his hopes. What was the use of trying? But he kept +trying, and the harder he tried the worse he played. At the bat he +struck out, fouled out, never hit the ball square at all. Graves got +two well-placed hits to right field. Then when Ken was in the field +Graves would come down the coaching line and talk to him in a voice no +one else could hear. + +"You've got a swell chance to make this team, you have, _not!_ Third +base is my job, Freshie. Why, you tow-head, you couldn't play marbles. +You butter-finger, can't you stop anything? You can't even play sub on +this team. Remember, Ward, I said I'd get you for hitting me that day. +You hit me with a potato once, too. I'll chase you off this team." + +For once Ken's spirit was so crushed and humbled that he could not say +a word to his rival. He even felt he deserved it all. When the practice +ended, and he was walking off the field with hanging head, trying to +bear up under the blow, he met Arthurs. + +"Hello! Peg," said the coach, "I'm going your way." + +Ken walked along feeling Arthurs' glance upon him, but he was ashamed +to raise his head. + +"Peg, you were up in the air to-day--way off--you lost your nut." + +He spoke kindly and put his hand on Ken's arm. Ken looked up to see +that the coach's face was pale and tired, with the characteristic +worried look more marked than usual. + +"Yes, I was," replied Ken, impulsively. "I can play better than I did +to-day--but--Mr. Arthurs, I'm not in Graves's class as a third-baseman. +I know it." + +Ken said it bravely, though there was a catch in his voice. The coach +looked closely at him. + +"So you're sayin' a good word for Graves, pluggin' his game." + +"I'd love to make the team, but old Wayne must have the best players +you can get." + +"Peg, I said once you and me were goin' to get along. I said also that +college baseball is played with the heart. You lost your heart. So did +most of the kids. Well, it ain't no wonder. This's a tryin' time. I'm +playin' them against each other, and no fellow knows where he's at. +Now, I've seen all along that you weren't a natural infielder. I played +you at third to-day to get that idea out of your head. To-morrow I'll +try you in the outfield. You ain't no quitter, Peg." + +Ken hurried to his room under the stress of a complete revulsion of +feeling. His liking for the coach began to grow into something more. +It was strange to Ken what power a few words from Arthurs had to renew +his will and hope and daring. How different Arthurs was when not on the +field. There he was stern and sharp. Ken could not study that night, +and he slept poorly. His revival of hope did not dispel his nervous +excitement. + +He went out into Grant Field next day fighting himself. When in +the practice Arthurs assigned him to a right-field position, he +had scarcely taken his place when he became conscious of a queer +inclination to swallow often, of a numbing tight band round his +chest. He could not stand still; his hands trembled; there was a +mist before his eyes. His mind was fixed upon himself and upon the +other five outfielders trying to make the team. He saw the players +in the infield pace their positions restlessly, run without aim when +the ball was hit or thrown, collide with each other, let the ball go +between their hands and legs, throw wildly, and sometimes stand as if +transfixed when they ought to have been in action. But all this was +not significant to Ken. He saw everything that happened, but he thought +only that he must make a good showing; he must not miss any flies, or +let a ball go beyond him. He absolutely must do the right thing. The +air of Grant Field was charged with intensity of feeling, and Ken +thought it was all his own. His baseball fortune was at stake, and +he worked himself in such a frenzy that if a ball had been batted +in his direction he might not have seen it at all. Fortunately none +came his way. + +The first time at bat he struck out ignominiously, poking weakly +at the pitcher's out-curves. The second time he popped up a little +fly. On the next trial the umpire called him out on strikes. At his +last chance Ken was desperate. He knew the coach placed batting before +any other department of the game. Almost sick with the torture of the +conflicting feelings, Ken went up to the plate and swung blindly. To +his amaze he cracked a hard fly to left-centre, far between the fielders. +Like a startled deer Ken broke into a run. He turned first base and saw +that he might stretch the hit into a three-bagger. He knew he could run, +and never had he so exerted himself. Second base sailed under him, and +he turned in line for the third. Watching Graves, he saw him run for the +base and stand ready to catch the throw-in. + +Without slacking his speed in the least Ken leaped into the air headlong +for the base. He heard the crack of the ball as it hit Graves's glove. +Then with swift scrape on hands and breast he was sliding in the dust. +He stopped suddenly as if blocked by a stone wall. Something hard struck +him on the head. A blinding light within his brain seemed to explode +into glittering slivers. A piercing pain shot through him. Then from +darkness and a great distance sounded a voice: + +"Ward, I said I'd get you!" + + + + +VII + +ANNIHILATION + + +That incident put Ken out of the practice for three days. He had a +bruise over his ear as large as a small apple. Ken did not mind the +pain nor the players' remarks that he had a swelled head anyway, but +he remembered with slow-gathering wrath Graves's words: "I said I'd +get you!" + +He remembered also Graves's reply to a question put by the coach. +"I was only tagging him. I didn't mean to hurt him." That rankled +inside Ken. He kept his counsel, however, even evading a sharp +query put by Arthurs, and as much as it was possible he avoided +the third-baseman. + +Hard practice was the order of every day, and most of it was batting. +The coach kept at the candidates everlastingly, and always his cry was: +"Toe the plate, left foot a little forward, step into the ball and +swing!" At the bat Ken made favorable progress because the coach was +always there behind him with encouraging words; in the field, however, +he made a mess of it, and grew steadily worse. + +The directors of the Athletic Association had called upon the old +varsity to go out and coach the new aspirants for college fame. +The varsity had refused. Even the players of preceding years, what +few were in or near the city, had declined to help develop Wayne's +stripling team. But some of the older graduates, among them several +of the athletic directors, appeared on the field. When Arthurs saw +them he threw up his hands in rage and despair. That afternoon Ken +had three well-meaning but old-fashioned ball-players coach him in +the outfield. He had them one at a time, which was all that saved +him from utter distraction. One told him to judge a fly by the sound +when the ball was hit. Another told him to play in close, and when the +ball was batted to turn and run with it. The third said he must play +deep and sprint in for the fly. Then each had different ideas as to +how batters should be judged, about throwing to bases, about backing +up the other fielders. Ken's bewilderment grew greater and greater. +He had never heard of things they advocated, and he began to think he +did not know anything about the game. And what made his condition of +mind border on imbecility was a hurried whisper from Arthurs between +innings: "Peg, don't pay the slightest attention to 'em fat-head +grad. coaches." + +Practice days succeeding that were worse nightmares to Ken Ward than +the days he had spent in constant fear of the sophomores. It was a +terribly feverish time of batting balls, chasing balls, and of having +dinned into his ears thousands of orders, rules of play, talks on +college spirit in athletics--all of which conflicted so that it was +meaningless to him. During this dark time one ray of light was the +fact that Arthurs never spoke a sharp word to him. Ken felt vaguely +that he was whirling in some kind of a college athletic chaos, out of +which he would presently emerge. + +Toward the close of March the weather grew warm, the practice field +dried up, and baseball should have been a joy to Ken. But it was not. +At times he had a shameful wish to quit the field for good, but he had +not the courage to tell the coach. The twenty-fifth, the day scheduled +for the game with the disgraced varsity team, loomed closer and closer. +Its approach was a fearful thing for Ken. Every day he cast furtive +glances down the field to where the varsity held practice. Ken had +nothing to say; he was as glum as most of the other candidates, but +he had heard gossip in the lecture-rooms, in the halls, on the street, +everywhere, and it concerned this game. What would the old varsity do +to Arthurs' new team? Curiosity ran as high as the feeling toward the +athletic directors. Resentment flowed from every source. Ken somehow got +the impression that he was blamable for being a member of the coach's +green squad. So Ken Ward fluctuated between two fears, one as bad as +the other--that he would not be selected to play, and the other that he +would be selected. It made no difference. He would be miserable if not +chosen, and if he was--how on earth would he be able to keep his knees +from wobbling? Then the awful day dawned. + +Coach Arthurs met all his candidates at the cage. He came late, he +explained, because he wanted to keep them off the field until time for +practice. To-day he appeared more grave than worried, and where the boys +expected a severe lecture, he simply said: "I'll play as many of you as +I can. Do your best, that's all. Don't mind what these old players say. +They were kids once, though they seem to have forgotten it. Try to learn +from them." + +It was the first time the candidates had been taken upon the regular +diamond of Grant Field. Ken had peeped in there once to be impressed by +the beautiful level playground, and especially the magnificent turreted +grand-stand and the great sweeping stretches of bleachers. Then they had +been empty; now, with four thousand noisy students and thousands of other +spectators besides, they stunned him. He had never imagined a crowd coming +to see the game. + +Perhaps Arthurs had not expected it either, for Ken heard him mutter grimly +to himself. He ordered practice at once, and called off the names of those +he had chosen to start the game. As one in a trance Ken Ward found himself +trotting out to right field. + +A long-rolling murmur that was half laugh, half taunt, rose from the +stands. Then it quickly subsided. From his position Ken looked for +the players of the old varsity, but they had not yet come upon the +field. Of the few balls batted to Ken in practice he muffed only one, +and he was just beginning to feel that he might acquit himself creditably +when the coach called the team in. Arthurs had hardly given his new +players time enough to warm up, but likewise they had not had time +to make any fumbles. + +All at once a hoarse roar rose from the stands, then a thundering +clatter of thousands of feet as the students greeted the appearance +of the old varsity. It was applause that had in it all the feeling of +the undergraduates for the championship team, many of whom they considered +had been unjustly barred by the directors. Love, loyalty, sympathy, +resentment--all pealed up to the skies in that acclaim. It rolled out +over the heads of Arthurs' shrinking boys as they huddled together on +the bench. + +Ken Ward, for one, was flushing and thrilling. In that moment he lost +his gloom. He watched the varsity come trotting across the field, a +doughty band of baseball warriors. Each wore a sweater with the huge +white "W" shining like a star. Many of those players had worn that +honored varsity letter for three years. It did seem a shame to bar +them from this season's team. Ken found himself thinking of the matter +from their point of view, and his sympathy was theirs. + +More than that, he gloried in the look of them, in the trained, springy +strides, in the lithe, erect forms, in the assurance in every move. Every +detail of that practice photographed itself upon Ken Ward's memory, and +he knew he would never forget. + +There was Dale, veteran player, captain and pitcher of the nine, hero of +victories over Place and Herne. There was Hogan, catcher for three seasons, +a muscular fellow, famed for his snap-throw to the bases and his fiendish +chasing of foul flies. There was Hickle, the great first-baseman, whom the +professional leagues were trying to get. What a reach he had; how easily +he scooped in the ball; low, high, wide, it made no difference to him. +There was Canton at second, Hollis at short, Burns at third, who had been +picked for the last year's All-American College Team. Then there was Dreer, +brightest star of all, the fleet, hard-hitting centre-fielder. This player +particularly fascinated Ken. It was a beautiful sight to see him run. The +ground seemed to fly behind him. When the ball was hit high he wheeled +with his back to the diamond and raced out, suddenly to turn with unerring +judgment--and the ball dropped into his hands. On low line hits he showed +his fleetness, for he was like a gleam of light in his forward dash; and, +however the ball presented, shoulder high, low by his knees, or on a short +bound, he caught it. Ken Ward saw with despairing admiration what it meant +to be a great outfielder. + +Then Arthurs called "Play ball!" giving the old varsity the field. + +With a violent start Ken Ward came out of his rhapsody. He saw a white +ball tossed on the diamond. Dale received it from one of the fielders +and took his position in the pitcher's box. The uniform set off his +powerful form; there was something surly and grimly determined in +his face. He glanced about to his players, as if from long habit, and +called out gruffly: "Get in the game, fellows! No runs for this scrub +outfit!" Then, with long-practised swing, he delivered the ball. It +travelled plateward swift as the flight of a white swallow. The umpire +called it a strike on Weir; the same on the next pitch; the third was +wide. Weir missed the fourth and was out. Raymond followed on the batting +list. To-day, as he slowly stepped toward the plate, seemingly smaller +and glummer than ever, it was plain he was afraid. The bleachers howled +at the little green cap sticking over his ear. Raymond did not swing at +the ball; he sort of reached out his bat at the first three pitches, +stepping back from the plate each time. The yell that greeted his weak +attempt seemed to shrivel him up. Also it had its effect on the youngsters +huddling around Arthurs. Graves went up and hit a feeble grounder to Dale +and was thrown out at first. + +Ken knew the half-inning was over; he saw the varsity players throw aside +their gloves and trot in. But either he could not rise or he was glued to +the bench. Then Arthurs pulled him up, saying, "Watch sharp, Peg, these +fellows are right-field hitters!" At the words all Ken's blood turned +to ice. He ran out into the field fighting the coldest, most sickening +sensation he ever had in his life. The ice in his veins all went to the +pit of his stomach and there formed into a heavy lump. Other times when +he had been frightened flitted through his mind. It had been bad when he +fought with Greaser, and worse when he ran with the outlaws in pursuit, +and the forest fire was appalling. But Ken felt he would gladly have +changed places at that moment. He dreaded the mocking bleachers. + +Of the candidates chosen to play against the varsity Ken knew McCord at +first, Raymond at second, Weir at short, Graves at third. He did not know +even the names of the others. All of them, except Graves, appeared too +young to play in that game. + +Dreer was first up for the varsity, and Ken shivered all over when the +lithe centre-fielder stepped to the left side of the plate. Ken went +out deeper, for he knew most hard-hitting left-handers hit to right +field. But Dreer bunted the first ball teasingly down the third-base +line. Fleet as a deer, he was across the bag before the infielder +reached the ball. Hollis was next up. On the first pitch, as Dreer +got a fast start for second, Hollis bunted down the first-base line. +Pitcher and baseman ran for the bunt; Hollis was safe, and the sprinting +Dreer went to third without even drawing a throw. A long pealing yell +rolled over the bleachers. Dale sent coaches to the coaching lines. +Hickle, big and formidable, hurried to the plate, swinging a long bat. +He swung it as if he intended to knock the ball out of the field. +When the pitcher lifted his arm Dreer dashed for home-base, and seemed +beating the ball. But Hickle deftly dumped it down the line and broke +for first while Dreer scored. This bunt was not fielded at all. How +the bleachers roared! Then followed bunts in rapid succession, dashes +for first, and slides into the bag. The pitcher interfered with the +third-baseman, and the first-baseman ran up the line, and the pitcher +failed to cover the bag, and the catcher fell all over the ball. +Every varsity man bunted, but in just the place where it was not +expected. They raced around the bases. They made long runs from +first to third. They were like flashes of light, slippery as eels. +The bewildered infielders knew they were being played with. The +taunting "boo-hoos" and screams of delight from the bleachers were +as demoralizing as the illusively daring runners. Closer and closer +the infielders edged in until they were right on top of the batters. +Then Dale and his men began to bunt little infield flies over the heads +of their opponents. The merry audience cheered wildly. But Graves and +Raymond ran back and caught three of these little pop flies, thus retiring +the side. The old varsity had made six runs on nothing but deliberate +bunts and daring dashes around the bases. + +Ken hurried in to the bench and heard some one call out, "Ward up!" + +He had forgotten he would have to bat. Stepping to the plate was like +facing a cannon. One of the players yelled: "Here he is, Dale! Here's +the potato-pegger! Knock his block off!" + +The cry was taken up by other players. "Peg him, Dale! Peg him, Dale!" +And then the bleachers got it. Ken's dry tongue seemed pasted to the +roof of his mouth. This Dale in baseball clothes with the lowering frown +was not like the Dale Ken had known. Suddenly he swung his arm. Ken's +quick eye caught the dark, shooting gleam of the ball. Involuntarily he +ducked. "Strike," called the umpire. Then Dale had not tried to hit him. +Ken stepped up again. The pitcher whirled slowly this time, turning with +long, easy motion, and threw underhand. The ball sailed, floated, soared. +Long before it reached Ken it had fooled him completely. He chopped at +it vainly. The next ball pitched came up swifter, but just before it +crossed the plate it seemed to stop, as if pulled back by a string, and +then dropped down. Ken fell to his knees trying to hit it. + +The next batter's attempts were not as awkward as Ken's, still they were +as futile. As Ken sat wearily down upon the bench he happened to get next +to coach Arthurs. He expected some sharp words from the coach, he thought +he deserved anything, but they were not forthcoming. The coach put his +hand on Ken's knee. When the third batter fouled to Hickle, and Ken +got up to go out to the field, he summoned courage to look at Arthurs. +Something in his face told Ken what an ordeal this was. He divined that +it was vastly more than business with Worry Arthurs. + +"Peg, watch out this time," whispered the coach. "They'll line 'em at +you this inning--like bullets. Now try hard, won't you? _Just try!_" + +Ken knew from Arthurs' look more than his words that _trying_ was all +that was left for the youngsters. The varsity had come out early in +the spring, and they had practised to get into condition to annihilate +this new team practically chosen by the athletic directors. And they +had set out to make the game a farce. But Arthurs meant that all the +victory was not in winning the game. It was left for his boys to try +in the face of certain defeat, to try with all their hearts, to try with +unquenchable spirit. It was the spirit that counted, not the result. +The old varsity had received a bitter blow; they were aggressive and +relentless. The students and supporters of old Wayne, idolizing the +great team, always bearing in mind the hot rivalry with Place and Herne, +were unforgiving and intolerant of an undeveloped varsity. Perhaps neither +could be much blamed. But it was for the new players to show what it meant +to them. The greater the prospect of defeat, the greater the indifference +or hostility shown them, the more splendid their opportunity. For it was +theirs to try for old Wayne, to try, to fight, and never to give up. + +Ken caught fire with the flame of that spirit. + +"Boys, come on!" he cried, in his piercing tenor. "_They can't beat us +trying!_" + +As he ran out into the field members of the varsity spoke to him. +"You green-backed freshman! Shut up! You scrub!" + +"I'm not a varsity has-been!" retorted Ken, hurrying out to his position. + +The first man up, a left-hander, rapped a hard twisting liner to right +field. Ken ran toward deep centre with all his might. The ball kept +twisting and curving. It struck squarely in Ken's hands and bounced +out and rolled far. When he recovered it the runner was on third base. +Before Ken got back to his position the second batter hit hard through +the infield toward right. The ball came skipping like a fiendish rabbit. +Ken gritted his teeth and went down on his knees, to get the bounding +ball full in his breast. But he stopped it, scrambled for it, and made +the throw in. Dale likewise hit in his direction, a slow low fly, +difficult to judge. Ken over-ran it, and the hit gave Dale two bases. +Ken realized that the varsity was now executing Worry Arthurs' famous +right-field hitting. The sudden knowledge seemed to give Ken the +blind-staggers. The field was in a haze; the players blurred in his +sight. He heard the crack of the ball and saw Raymond dash over and +plunge down. Then the ball seemed to streak out of the grass toward +him, and, as he bent over, it missed his hands and cracked on his shin. +Again he fumbled wildly for it and made the throw in. The pain roused +his rage. He bit his lips and called to himself: "I'll stop them if it +kills me!" + +Dreer lined the ball over his head for a home-run. Hollis made a bid +for a three-bagger, but Ken, by another hard sprint, knocked the ball +down. Hickle then batted up a tremendously high fly. It went far beyond +Ken and he ran and ran. It looked like a small pin-point of black up +in the sky. Then he tried to judge it, to get under it. The white sky +suddenly glazed over and the ball wavered this way and that. Ken lost +it in the sun, found it again, and kept on running. Would it never come +down? He had not reached it, he had run beyond it. In an agony he lunged +out, and the ball fell into his hands and jumped out. + +Then followed a fusillade of hits, all between second base and first, +and all vicious-bounding grounders. To and fro Ken ran, managing somehow +to get some portion of his anatomy in front of the ball. It had become +a demon to him now and he hated it. His tongue was hanging out, his +breast was bursting, his hands were numb, yet he held before him the +one idea to keep fiercely trying. + +He lost count of the runs after eleven had been scored. He saw McCord and +Raymond trying to stem the torrent of right-field hits, but those they +knocked down gave him no time to recover. He blocked the grass-cutters +with his knees or his body and pounced upon the ball and got it away from +him as quickly as possible. Would this rapid fire of uncertain-bounding +balls never stop? Ken was in a kind of frenzy. If he only had time to +catch his breath! + +Then Dreer was at bat again. He fouled the first two balls over the +grand-stand. Some one threw out a brand-new ball. Farther and farther +Ken edged into deep right. He knew what was coming. "Let him--hit it!" +he panted. "I'll try to get it! This day settles me. I'm no outfielder. +But I'll try!" + +The tired pitcher threw the ball and Dreer seemed to swing and bound at +once with the ringing crack. The hit was one of his famous drives close +to the right-field foul-line. + +Ken was off with all the speed left in him. He strained every nerve +and was going fast when he passed the foul-flag. The bleachers loomed +up indistinct in his sight. But he thought only of meeting the ball. +The hit was a savage liner, curving away from him. Cinders under his +flying feet were a warning that he did not heed. He was on the track. +He leaped into the air, left hand outstretched, and felt the ball +strike in his glove. + +Then all was dark in a stunning, blinding crash-- + + + + +VIII + +EXAMINATIONS + + +When Ken Ward came fully to his senses he was being half carried +and half led across the diamond to the players' bench. He heard +Worry Arthurs say: "He ain't hurt much--only butted into the fence." + +Ken tried manfully to entertain Worry's idea about it, but he was too +dazed and weak to stand alone. He imagined he had broken every bone in +his body. + +"Did I make the catch--hang to the ball?" he asked. + +"No, Peg, you didn't," replied the coach, kindly. "But you made a grand +try for it." + +He felt worse over failing to hold the ball than he felt over half +killing himself against the bleachers. He spent the remainder of +that never-to-be-forgotten game sitting on the bench. But to watch +his fellow-players try to play was almost as frightful as being +back there in right field. It was no consolation for Ken to see +his successor chasing long hits, misjudging flies, failing weakly +on wicked grounders. Even Graves weakened toward the close and +spoiled his good beginning by miserable fumbles and throws. It was +complete and disgraceful rout. The varsity never let up until the +last man was out. The team could not have played harder against +Place or Herne. Arthurs called the game at the end of the sixth +inning with the score 41 to 0. + +Many beaten and despondent players had dragged themselves off Grant +Field in bygone years. But none had ever been so humiliated, so crushed. +No player spoke a word or looked at another. They walked off with bowed +heads. Ken lagged behind the others; he was still stunned and lame. +Presently Arthurs came back to help him along, and did not speak until +they were clear of the campus and going down Ken's street. + +"I'm glad that's over," said Worry. "I kicked against havin' the game, +but 'em fat-head directors would have it. Now we'll be let alone. There +won't be no students comin' out to the field, and I'm blamed glad." + +Ken was sick and smarting with pain, and half crying. + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Arthurs," he faltered, "we were--so--so--rotten!" + +"See here, Peg," was the quick reply, "that cuts no ice with me. It was +sure the rottenest exhibition I ever seen in my life. But there's excuses, +and you can just gamble I'm the old boy who knows. You kids were scared +to death. What hurts me, Peg, is the throw-down we got from my old team +and from the students. We're not to blame for rules made by fat-head +directors. I was surprised at Dale. He was mean, and so were Hollis and +Hickle--all of 'em. They didn't need to disgrace us like that." + +"Oh, Mr. Arthurs, what players they are!" exclaimed Ken. "I never saw +such running, such hitting. You said they'd hit to right field like +bullets, but it was worse than bullets. And Dreer!... When he came up +my heart just stopped beating." + +"Peg, listen," said Worry. "Three years ago when Dreer came out on the +field he was greener than you, and hadn't half the spunk. I made him +what he is, and I made all of 'em--I made that team, and I can make +another." + +"You are just saying that to--to encourage me," replied Ken, hopelessly. +"I can't play ball. I thought I could, but I know now. I'll never go +out on the field again." + +"Peg, are you goin' to throw me down, too?" + +"Mr. Arthurs! I--I--" + +"Listen, Peg. Cut out the dumps. Get over 'em. You made the varsity +to-day. Understand? You earned your big W. You needn't mention it, +but I've picked you to play somewhere. You weren't a natural infielder, +and you didn't make much of a showin' in the outfield. But it's the +spirit I want. To-day was a bad day for a youngster. There's always +lots of feelin' about college athletics, but here at Wayne this year +the strain's awful. And you fought yourself and stage-fright and the +ridicule of 'em quitter students. You _tried_, Peg! I never saw a gamer +try. You didn't fail me. And after you made that desperate run and +tried to smash the bleachers with your face the students shut up their +guyin'. It made a difference, Peg. Even the varsity was a little ashamed. +Cheer up, now!" + +Ken was almost speechless; he managed to mumble something, at which +the coach smiled in reply and then walked rapidly away. Ken limped +to his room and took off his baseball suit. The skin had been peeled +from his elbow, and his body showed several dark spots that Ken knew +would soon be black-and-blue bruises. His legs from his knees down +bore huge lumps so sore to the touch that Ken winced even at gentle +rubbing. But he did not mind the pain. All the darkness seemed to have +blown away from his mind. + +"What a fine fellow Worry is!" said Ken. "How I'll work for him! I +must write to brother Hal and Dick Leslie, to tell them I've made +the varsity.... No, not yet; Worry said not to mention it.... And +now to plug. I'll have to take my exams before the first college +game, April 8th, and that's not long." + +In the succeeding days Ken was very busy with attendance at college in +the mornings, baseball practice in the afternoons, and study at night. + +If Worry had picked any more players for the varsity, Ken could not +tell who they were. Of course Graves would make the team, and Weir and +Raymond were pretty sure of places. There were sixteen players for the +other five positions, and picking them was only guesswork. It seemed +to Ken that some of the players showed streaks of fast playing at times, +and then as soon as they were opposed to one another in the practice +game they became erratic. His own progress was slow. One thing he could +do that brought warm praise from the coach--he could line the ball home +from deep outfield with wonderful speed and accuracy. + +After the varsity had annihilated Worry's "kids," as they had come to +be known, the students showed no further interest. When they ceased +to appear on the field the new players were able to go at their practice +without being ridiculed. Already an improvement had been noticeable. +But rivalry was so keen for places, and the coach's choice so deep a +mystery, that the contestants played under too great a tension, and +school-boys could have done better. + +It was on the first of April that Arthurs took Ken up into College Hall +to get permission for him to present himself to the different professors +for the early examinations. While Ken sat waiting in the office he heard +Arthurs talking to men he instantly took to be the heads of the Athletic +Association. They were in an adjoining room with the door open, and their +voices were very distinct, so that Ken could not help hearing. + +"Gentlemen, I want my answer to-day," said the coach. + +"Is there so great a hurry? Wait a little," was the rejoinder. + +"I'm sorry, but this is April 1st, and I'll wait no longer. I'm ready +to send some of my boys up for early exams, and I want to know where +I stand." + +"Arthurs, what is it exactly that you want? Things have been in an +awful mess, we know. State your case and we'll try to give you a +definite answer." + +"I want full charge of the coachin'--the handlin' of the team, as I +always had before. I don't want any grad coaches. The directors seem +divided, one half want this, the other half that. They've cut out the +trainin' quarters. I've had no help from Murray; no baths or rub-downs +or trainin' for my candidates. Here's openin' day a week off and I +haven't picked my team. I want to take them to the trainin'-table and +have them under my eye all the time. If I can't have what I want I'll +resign. If I can I'll take the whole responsibility of the team on my +own shoulders." + +"Very well, Arthurs, we'll let you go ahead and have full charge. There +has been talk this year of abolishing a private training-house and table +for this green varsity. But rather than have you resign we'll waive that. +You can rest assured from now on you will not be interfered with. Give +us the best team you can under the circumstances. There has been much +dissension among the directors and faculty because of our new eligibility +rules. It has stirred everybody up, and the students are sore. Then +there has been talk of not having a professional coach this year, but +we overruled that in last night's meeting. We're going to see what you +can do. I may add, Arthurs, if you shape up a varsity this year that makes +any kind of a showing against Place and Herne you will win the eternal +gratitude of the directors who have fostered this change in athletics. +Otherwise I'm afraid the balance of opinion will favor the idea of +dispensing with professional coaches in the future." + +Ken saw that Arthurs was white in the face when he left the room. They +went out together, and Worry handed Ken a card that read for him to take +his examinations at once. + +"Are you up on 'em?" asked the coach, anxiously. + +"I--I think so," replied Ken. + +"Well, Peg, good luck to you! Go at 'em like you went at Dreer's hit." + +Much to his amazement it was for Ken to discover that, now the time had +come for him to face his examinations, he was not at all sanguine. He +began to worry. He forgot about the text-books he had mastered in his +room during the long winter when he feared to venture out because of +the sophomores. It was not very long till he had worked himself into a +state somewhat akin to his trepidation in the varsity ball game. Then +he decided to go up at once and have it done with. His whole freshman +year had been one long agony. What a relief to have it ended! + +Ken passed four examinations in one morning, passed them swimmingly, +smilingly, splendidly, and left College Hall in an ecstasy. Things +were working out fine. But he had another examination, and it was in +a subject he had voluntarily included in his course. Whatever on earth +he had done it for he could not now tell. The old doctor who held the +chair in that department had thirty years before earned the name of Crab. +And slowly in the succeeding years he had grown crabbier, crustier, so +student rumor had it. Ken had rather liked the dry old fellow, and had +been much absorbed in his complex lectures, but he had never been near +him, and now the prospect changed color. Foolishly Ken asked a sophomore +in what light old Crab might regard a student who was ambitious to pass +his exams early. The picture painted by that sophomore would have made +a flaming-mouthed dragon appear tame. Nerving himself to the ordeal, Ken +took his card and presented himself one evening at the doctor's house. + +A maid ushered him into the presence of a venerable old man who did not +look at all, even in Ken's distorted sight, like a crab or a dragon. His +ponderous brow seemed as if it had all the thought in the world behind +it. He looked over huge spectacles at Ken's card and then spoke in a dry, +quavering voice. + +"Um-m. Sit down, Mr. Ward." + +Ken found his breath and strangely lost his fear and trembling. The doctor +dryly asked him why he thought he knew more than the other students, who +were satisfied to wait months longer before examination. Ken hastened to +explain that it was no desire of his; that, although he had studied hard +and had not missed many lectures, he knew he was unprepared. Then he went +on to tell about the baseball situation and why he had been sent up. + +"Um-m." The professor held a glass paperweight up before Ken and asked +a question about it. Next he held out a ruler and asked something about +that, and also a bottle of ink. Following this he put a few queries +about specific gravity, atomic weight, and the like. Then he sat +thrumming his desk and appeared far away in thought. After a while +he turned to Ken with a smile that made his withered, parchment-like +face vastly different. + +"Where do you play?" he asked. + +"S-sir?" stammered Ken. + +"In baseball, I mean. What place do you play? Catch? Thrower? I don't +know the names much." + +Ken replied eagerly, and then it seemed he was telling this stern old +man all about baseball. He wanted to know what fouls were, and how to +steal bases, and he was nonplussed by such terms as "hit-and-run." Ken +discoursed eloquently on his favorite sport, and it was like a kind of +dream to be there. Strange things were always happening to him. + +"I've never seen a game," said the professor. "I used to play myself +long ago, when we had a yarn ball and pitched underhand. I'll have to +come out to the field some day. President Halstead, why, he likes +baseball, he's a--a--what do you call it?" + +"A fan--a rooter?" replied Ken, smiling. + +"Um-m. I guess that's it. Well, Mr. Ward, I'm glad to meet you. You may +go now." + +Ken got up blushing like a girl. "But, Doctor, you were to--I was to be +examined." + +"I've examined you," he drawled, with a dry chuckle, and he looked over +his huge spectacles at Ken. "I'll give you a passing mark. But, Mr. Ward, +you know a heap more about baseball than you know about physics." + +As Ken went out he trod upon air. What a splendid old fellow! The sophomore +had lied. For that matter, when had a sophomore ever been known to tell +the truth? But, he suddenly exclaimed, he himself was no longer a freshman. +He pondered happily on the rosy lining to his old cloud of gloom. How +different things appeared after a little time. That old doctor's smile +would linger long in Ken's memory. He felt deep remorse that he had ever +misjudged him. He hurried on to Worry Arthurs' house to tell him the good +news. And as he walked his mind was full with the wonder of it all--his +lonely, wretched freshman days, now forever past; the slow change from +hatred; the dawning of some strange feeling for the college and his +teachers; and, last, the freedom, the delight, the quickening stir in +the present. + + + + +IX + +PRESIDENT HALSTEAD ON COLLEGE SPIRIT + + +Wayne's opening game was not at all what Ken had dreamed it would be. +The opposing team from Hudson School was as ill-assorted an aggregation +as Ken had ever seen. They brought with them a small but noisy company +of cheering supporters who, to the shame of Ken and his fellows, had +the bleachers all to themselves. If any Wayne students were present +they either cheered for Hudson or remained silent. + +Hudson won, 9 to 2. It was a game that made Arthurs sag a little lower +on the bench. Graves got Wayne's two tallies. Raymond at second played +about all the game from the fielding standpoint. Ken distinguished +himself by trying wildly and accomplishing nothing. When he went to +his room that night he had switched back to his former spirits, and +was disgusted with Wayne's ball team, himself most of all. + +That was on a Wednesday. The next day rain prevented practice, and on +Friday the boys were out on the field again. Arthurs shifted the players +around, trying resignedly to discover certain positions that might fit +certain players. It seemed to Ken that all the candidates, except one +or two, were good at fielding and throwing, but when they came to play +a game they immediately went into a trance. + +Travers College was scheduled for Saturday. They had always turned out +a good minor team, but had never been known to beat Wayne. They shut +Arthurs' team out without a run. A handful of Wayne students sat in the +bleachers mocking their own team. Arthurs used the two pitchers he had +been trying hard to develop, and when they did locate the plate they +were hit hard. Ken played or essayed to play right field for a while, +but he ran around like a chicken with its head off, as a Travers player +expressed it, and then Arthurs told him that he had better grace the +bench the rest of the game. Ashamed as Ken was to be put out, he was +yet more ashamed to feel that he was glad of it. Hardest of all to bear +was the arrogant air put on by the Travers College players. Wayne had +indeed been relegated to the fifth rank of college baseball teams. + +On Monday announcements were made in all the lecture-rooms and departments +of the university, and bulletins were posted to the effect, that President +Halstead wished to address the undergraduates in the Wayne auditorium +on Tuesday at five o'clock. + +Rumor flew about the campus and Carlton Club, everywhere, that the +president's subject would be "College Spirit," and it was believed he +would have something to say about the present condition of athletics. +Ken Ward hurried to the hall as soon as he got through his practice. He +found the immense auditorium packed from pit to dome, and he squeezed +into a seat on the steps. + +The students, as always, were exchanging volleys of paper-balls, +matching wits, singing songs, and passing time merrily. When +President Halstead entered, with two of his associates, he was +greeted by a thunder of tongues, hands, and heels of the standing +students. He was the best-beloved member of the university faculty, +a distinguished, scholarly looking man, well-stricken in years. + +He opened his address by declaring the need of college spirit in college +life. He defined it as the vital thing, the heart of a great educational +institution, and he went on to speak of its dangers, its fluctuations. +Then he made direct reference to athletics in its relation to both +college spirit and college life. + +"Sport is too much with us. Of late years I have observed a great increase +in the number of athletic students, and a great decrease in scholarship. +The fame of the half-back and the short-stop and the stroke-oar has grown +out of proportion to their real worth. The freshman is dazzled by it. The +great majority of college men cannot shine in sport, which is the best +thing that could be. The student's ideal, instead of being the highest +scholarship, the best attainment for his career, is apt to be influenced +by the honors and friendships that are heaped upon the great athlete. +This is false to university life. You are here to prepare yourselves +for the battle with the world, and I want to state that that battle is +becoming more and more intellectual. The student who slights his studies +for athletic glory may find himself, when that glory is long past, +distanced in the race for success by a student who had not trained to +run the hundred in ten seconds. + +"But, gentlemen, to keep well up in your studies and _then_ go in for +athletics--that is entirely another question. It is not likely that +any student who keeps to the front in any of the university courses +will have too much time for football or baseball. I am, as you all +know, heartily in favor of all branches of college sport. And that +brings me to the point I want to make to-day. Baseball is my favorite +game, and I have always been proud of Wayne's teams. The new eligibility +rules, with which you are all familiar, were brought to me, and after +thoroughly going over the situation I approved of them. Certainly it is +obvious to you all that a university ball-player making himself famous +here, and then playing during the summer months at a resort, is laying +himself open to suspicion. I have no doubt that many players are innocent +of the taint of professionalism, but unfortunately they have become +members of these summer teams after being first requested, then warned, +not to do so. + +"Wayne's varsity players of last year have been barred by the directors. +They made their choice, and so should abide by it. They have had their +day, and so should welcome the opportunity of younger players. But I +am constrained to acknowledge that neither they nor the great body of +undergraduates welcomed the change. This, more than anything, proves to +me the evil of championship teams. The football men, the baseball men, +the crew men, and all the student supporters want to win _all_ the games +_all_ the time. I would like to ask you young gentlemen if you can take +a beating? If you cannot, I would like to add that you are not yet fitted +to go out into life. A good beating, occasionally, is a wholesome thing. + +"Well, to come to the point now: I find, after studying the situation, +that the old varsity players and undergraduates of this university have +been lacking in--let us be generous and say, college spirit. I do not +need to go into detail; suffice it to say that I know. I will admit, +however, that I attended the game between the old varsity and the new +candidates. I sat unobserved in a corner, and a more unhappy time I +never spent in this university. I confess that my sympathies were with +the inexperienced, undeveloped boys who were trying to learn to play +ball. _Put yourselves in their places._ Say you are mostly freshmen, +and you make yourselves candidates for the team because you love the +game, and because you would love to bring honor to your college. You +go out and try. You meet, the first day, an implacable team of skilled +veterans who show their scorn of your poor ability, their hatred of +your opportunity, and ride roughshod--I should say, run with spiked +shoes--over you. You hear the roar of four thousand students applauding +these hero veterans. You hear your classmates, your fellow-students in +Wayne, howl with ridicule at your weak attempts to compete with better, +stronger players.... Gentlemen, how would you feel? + +"I said before that college spirit fluctuates. If I did not know students +well I would be deeply grieved at the spirit shown that day. I know that +the tide will turn.... And, gentlemen, would not you and the old varsity +be rather in an embarrassing position if--if these raw recruits should +happen to develop into a team strong enough to cope with Place and Herne? +Stranger things have happened. I am rather strong for the new players, +not because of their playing, which is poor indeed, but for the way they +_tried_ under peculiarly adverse conditions. + +"That young fellow Ward--what torture that inning of successive hard +hits to his territory! I was near him in that end of the bleachers, +and I watched him closely. Every attempt he made was a failure--that +is, failure from the point of view of properly fielding the ball. But, +gentlemen, that day was not a failure for young Ward. It was a grand +success. Some one said his playing was the poorest exhibition ever seen +on Grant Field. That may be. I want to say that to my mind it was also +the most splendid effort ever made on Grant Field. For it was made against +defeat, fear, ridicule. It was elimination of self. It was made for his +coach, his fellow-players, his college--that is to say, for the students +who shamed themselves by scorn for his trial. + +"Young men of Wayne, give us a little more of such college spirit!" + + + + +X + +NEW PLAYERS + + +When practice time rolled around for Ken next day, he went upon the +field once more with his hopes renewed and bright. + +"I certainly do die hard," he laughed to himself. "But I can never go +down and out now--never!" + +Something seemed to ring in Ken's ears like peals of bells. In spite of +his awkwardness Coach Arthurs had made him a varsity man; in spite of his +unpreparedness old Crab had given him a passing mark; in spite of his +unworthiness President Halstead had made him famous. + +"I surely am the lucky one," said Ken, for the hundredth time. "And +now I'm going to force my luck." Ken had lately revolved in his mind +a persistent idea that he meant to propound to the coach. + +Ken arrived on the field a little later than usual, to find Arthurs for +once minus his worried look. He was actually smiling, and Ken soon saw +the reason for this remarkable change was the presence of a new player +out in centre field. + +"Hello, Peg! things are lookin' up," said the coach, beaming. "That's +Homans out there in centre--Roy Homans, a senior and a crackerjack +ball-player. I tried to get him to come out for the team last year, but +he wouldn't spare the time. But he's goin' to play this season--said the +president's little talk got him. He's a fast, heady, scientific player, +just the one to steady you kids." + +Before Ken could reply his attention was attracted from Homans to +another new player in uniform now walking up to Arthurs. He was tall, +graceful, powerful, had red hair, keen dark eyes, a clean-cut profile +and square jaw. + +"I've come out to try for the team," he said, quietly, to the coach. + +"You're a little late, ain't you?" asked Worry, gruffly; but he ran +a shrewd glance over the lithe form. + +"Yes." + +"Must have been stirred up by that talk of President Halstead's, +wasn't you?" + +"Yes." There was something quiet and easy about the stranger, +and Ken liked him at once. + +"Where do you play?" went on Worry. + +"Left." + +"Can you hit? Talk sense now, and mebbe you'll save me work. Can you hit?" + +"Yes." + +"Can you throw?" + +"Yes." He spoke with quiet assurance. + +"Can you run?" almost shouted Worry. He was nervous and irritable +those days, and it annoyed him for unknown youths to speak calmly +of such things. + +"Run? Yes, a little. I did the hundred last year in nine and four-fifths." + +"What! You can't kid me! Who are you?" cried Worry, getting red in the +face. "I've seen you somewhere." + +"My name's Ray." + +"Say! Not _Ray_, the intercollegiate champion?" + +"I'm the fellow. I talked it over with Murray. He kicked, but I didn't +mind that. I promised to try to keep in shape to win the sprints at the +intercollegiate meet." + +"Say! Get out there in left field! Quick!" shouted Worry.... "Peg, hit +him some flies. Lam 'em a mile! That fellow's a sprinter, Peg. What luck +it would be if he can play ball! Hit 'em at him!" + +Ken took the ball Worry tossed him, and, picking up a bat, began to +knock flies out to Ray. The first few he made easy for the outfielder, +and then he hit balls harder and off to the right or left. Without +appearing to exert himself Ray got under them. Ken watched him, and +also kept the tail of his eye on Worry. The coach appeared to be +getting excited, and he ordered Ken to hit the balls high and far +away. Ken complied, but he could not hit a ball over Ray's head. He +tried with all his strength. He had never seen a champion sprinter, +and now he marvelled at the wonderful stride. + +"Oh! but his running is beautiful!" exclaimed Ken. + +"That's enough! Come in here!" yelled Worry to Ray.... "Peg, he makes +Dreer look slow. I never saw as fast fieldin' as that." + +When Ray came trotting in without seeming to be even warmed up, Worry +blurted out: "You ain't winded--after all that? Must be in shape?" + +"I'm always in shape," replied Ray. + +"Pick up a bat!" shouted Worry. "Here, Duncan, pitch this fellow a few. +Speed 'em, curve 'em, strike him out, hit him--anything!" + +Ray was left-handed, and he stood up to the plate perfectly erect, +with his bat resting quietly on his shoulder. He stepped straight, +swung with an even, powerful swing, and he hit the first ball clear +over the right-field bleachers. It greatly distanced Dreer's hit. + +"What a drive!" gasped Ken. + +"Oh!" choked Worry. "That's enough! You needn't lose my balls. Bunt one, +now." + +Ray took the same position, and as the ball came up he appeared to drop +the bat upon it and dart away at the same instant. + +Worry seemed to be trying to control violent emotion. "Next batter up!" +he called, hoarsely, and sat down on the bench. He was breathing hard, +and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. + +Ken went up to Worry, feeling that now was the time to acquaint the +coach with his new idea. Eager as Ken was he had to force himself to +take this step. All the hope and dread, nervousness and determination +of the weeks of practice seemed to accumulate in that moment. He +stammered and stuttered, grew speechless, and then as Worry looked +up in kind surprise, Ken suddenly grew cool and earnest. + +"Mr. Arthurs, will you try me in the box?" + +"What's that, Peg?" queried the coach, sharply. + +"Will you give me a trial in the box? I've wanted one all along. You put +me in once when we were in the cage, but you made me hit the batters." + +"Pitch? you, Peg? Why not? Why didn't I think of it? I'm sure gettin' +to be like 'em fat-head directors. You've got steam, Peg, but can you +curve a ball? Let's see your fingers." + +"Yes, I can curve a ball round a corner. Please give me a trial, +Mr. Arthurs. I failed in the infield, and I'm little good in the +outfield. But I know I can pitch." + +The coach gave Ken one searching glance. Then he called all the +candidates in to the plate, and ordered Dean, the stocky little +catcher, to don his breast-protector, mask, and mitt. + +"Peg," said the coach, "Dean will sign you--one finger for a straight +ball, two for a curve." + +When Ken walked to the box all his muscles seemed quivering and tense, +and he had a contraction in his throat. This was his opportunity. He was +not unnerved as he had been when he was trying for the other positions. +All Ken's life he had been accustomed to throwing. At his home he had +been the only boy who could throw a stone across the river; the only one +who could get a ball over the high-school tower. A favorite pastime had +always been the throwing of small apples, or walnuts, or stones, and he +had acquired an accuracy that made it futile for his boy comrades to +compete with him. Curving a ball had come natural to him, and he would +have pitched all his high-school games had it not been for the fact that +no one could catch him, and, moreover, none of the boys had found any +fun in batting against him. + +When Ken faced the first batter a feeling came over him that he had +never before had on the ball field. He was hot, trembling, hurried, +but this new feeling was apart from these. His feet were on solid +ground, and his arm felt as it had always in those throwing contests +where he had so easily won. He seemed to decide from McCord's position +at the plate what to throw him. + +Ken took his swing. It was slow, easy, natural. But the ball travelled +with much greater speed than the batter expected from such motion. McCord +let the first two balls go by, and Arthurs called them both strikes. Then +Ken pitched an out-curve which McCord fanned at helplessly. Arthurs sent +Trace up next. Ken saw that the coach was sending up the weaker hitters +first. Trace could not even make a foul. Raymond was third up, and Ken +had to smile at the scowling second-baseman. Remembering his weakness +for pulling away from the plate, Ken threw Raymond two fast curves on +the outside, and then a slow wide curve, far out. Raymond could not have +hit the first two with a paddle, and the third lured him irresistibly +out of position and made him look ridiculous. He slammed his bat down +and slouched to the bench. Duncan turned out to be the next easy victim. +Four batters had not so much as fouled Ken. And Ken knew he was holding +himself in--that, in fact, he had not let out half his speed. Blake, the +next player, hit up a little fly that Ken caught, and Schoonover made +the fifth man to strike out. + +Then Weir stood over the plate, and he was a short, sturdy batter, hard +to pitch to. He looked as if he might be able to hit any kind of a ball. +Ken tried him first with a straight fast one over the middle of the plate. +Weir hit it hard, but it went foul. And through Ken's mind flashed the +thought that he would pitch no more speed to Weir or players who swung +as he did. Accordingly Ken tried the slow curve that had baffled Raymond. +Weir popped it up and retired in disgust. + +The following batter was Graves, who strode up smiling, confident, +sarcastic, as if he knew he could do more than the others. Ken imagined +what the third-baseman would have said if the coach had not been present. +Graves always ruffled Ken the wrong way. + +"I'll strike him out if I break my arm!" muttered Ken to himself. He +faced Graves deliberately and eyed his position at bat. Graves as +deliberately laughed at him. + +"Pitch up, pitch up!" he called out. + +"Right over the pan!" retorted Ken, as quick as an echo. He went hot as +fire all over. This fellow Graves had some strange power of infuriating +him. + +Ken took a different swing, which got more of his weight in motion, and +let his arm out. Like a white bullet the ball shot plateward, rising a +little so that Graves hit vainly under it. The ball surprised Dean, +knocked his hands apart as if they had been paper, and resounded from +his breast-protector. Ken pitched the second ball in the same place with +a like result, except that Dean held on to it. Graves had lost his smile +and wore an expression of sickly surprise. The third ball travelled by +him and cracked in Dean's mitt, and Arthurs called it a strike. + +"Easy there--that'll do!" yelled the coach. "Come in here, Peg. Out on +the field now, boys." + +Homans stopped Ken as they were passing each other, and Ken felt himself +under the scrutiny of clear gray eyes. + +"Youngster, you look good to me," said Homans. + +Ken also felt himself regarded with astonishment by many of the candidates; +and Ray ran a keen, intuitive glance over him from head to foot. But it was +the coach's manner that struck Ken most forcibly. Worry was utterly unlike +himself. + +"Why didn't you tell me about this before--you--you--" he yelled, red as +a beet in the face. He grasped Ken with both hands, then he let him go, +and picking up a ball and a mitt he grasped him again. Without a word he +led Ken across the field and to a secluded corner behind the bleachers. +Ken felt for all the world as if he was being led to execution. + +Worry took off his coat and vest and collar. He arranged a block of wood +for a plate and stepped off so many paces and placed another piece of +wood to mark the pitcher's box. Then he donned the mitt. + +"Peg, somethin's comin' off. I know it. I never make mistakes in sizin' +up pitchers. But I've had such hard luck this season that I can't believe +my own eyes. We've got to prove it. Now you go out there and pitch to me. +Just natural like at first." + +Ken pitched a dozen balls or more, some in-curves, some out-curves. Then +he threw what he called his drop, which he executed by a straight overhand +swing. + +"Oh--a beauty!" yelled Worry. "Where, Peg, where did you learn that? +Another, lower now." + +Worry fell over trying to stop the glancing drop. + +"Try straight ones now, Peg, right over the middle. See how many you +can pitch." + +One after another, with free, easy motion, Ken shot balls squarely over +the plate. Worry counted them, and suddenly, after the fourteenth pitch, +he stood up and glared at Ken. + +"Are you goin' to keep puttin' 'em over this pan all day that way?" + +"Mr. Arthurs, I couldn't miss that plate if I pitched a week," +replied Ken. + +"Stop callin' me Mister!" yelled Worry. "Now, put 'em where I hold my +hands--inside corner... outside corner... again... inside now, low... +another... a fast one over, now... high, inside. Oh, Peg, this ain't +right. I ain't seein' straight. I think I'm dreamin'. Come on with 'em!" + +Fast and true Ken sped the balls into Worry's mitt. Seldom did the +coach have to move his hands at all. + +"Peg Ward, did you know that pitchin' was all control, puttin' the ball +where you wanted to?" asked Worry, stopping once more. + +"No, I didn't," replied Ken. + +"How did you learn to peg a ball as straight as this?" + +Ken told him how he had thrown at marks all his life. + +"Why didn't you tell me before?" Worry seemed not to be able to get +over Ken's backwardness. "Look at the sleepless nights and the gray +hairs you could have saved me." He stamped around as if furious, yet +underneath the surface Ken saw that the coach was trying to hide his +elation. "Here now," he shouted, suddenly, "a few more, and _peg_ 'em! +See? Cut loose and let me see what steam you've got!" + +Ken whirled with all his might and delivered the ball with all his +weight in the swing. The ball seemed to diminish in size, it went so +swiftly. Near the plate it took an upward jump, and it knocked Worry's +mitt off his hand. + +Worry yelled out, then he looked carefully at Ken, but he made no effort +to go after the ball or pick up the mitt. + +"Did I say for you to knock my block off?... Come here, Peg. You're only +a youngster. Do you think you can keep that? Are you goin' to let me teach +you to pitch? Have you got any nerve? Are you up in the air at the thought +of Place and Herne?" + +Then he actually hugged Ken, and kept hold of him as if he might get away. +He was panting and sweating. All at once he sat down on one of the braces +of the bleachers and began mopping his face. He seemed to cool down, to +undergo a subtle change. + +"Peg," he said, quietly, "I'm as bad as some of 'em fat-head directors.... +You see I didn't have no kind of a pitcher to work on this spring. I kept +on hopin'. Strange why I didn't quit. And now--my boy, you're a kid, but +you're a natural born pitcher." + + + + +XI + +STATE UNIVERSITY GAME + + +Arthurs returned to the diamond and called the squad around him. He might +have been another coach from the change that was manifest in him. + +"Boys, I've picked the varsity, and sorry I am to say you all can't be on +it. Ward, Dean, McCord, Raymond, Weir, Graves, Ray, Homans, Trace, Duncan, +and Schoonover--these men will report at once to Trainer Murray and obey +his orders. Then pack your trunks and report to me at 36 Spring Street +to-night. That's all--up on your toes now.... The rest of you boys will +each get his uniform and sweater, but, of course, I can't give you the +varsity letter. You've all tried hard and done your best. I'm much obliged +to you, and hope you'll try again next year." + +Led by Arthurs, the players trotted across the field to Murray's +quarters. Ken used all his eyes as he went in. This was the sacred +precinct of the chosen athletes, and it was not open to any others. +He saw a small gymnasium, and adjoining it a large, bright room with +painted windows that let in the light, but could not be seen through. +Around the room on two sides were arranged huge box-like bins with holes +in the lids and behind them along the wall were steam-pipes. On the other +two sides were little zinc-lined rooms, with different kinds of pipes, +which Ken concluded were used for shower baths. Murray, the trainer, +was there, and two grinning negroes with towels over their shoulders, +and a little dried-up Scotchman who was all one smile. + +"Murray, here's my bunch. Look 'em over, and to-morrow start 'em in for +keeps," said Arthurs. + +"Well, Worry, they're not a bad-looking lot. Slim and trim. We won't +have to take off any beef. Here's Reddy Ray. I let you have him this +year, Worry, but the track team will miss him. And here's Peg Ward. +I was sure you'd pick him, Worry. And this is Homans, isn't it? I +remember you in the freshmen games. The rest of you boys I'll have +to get acquainted with. They say I'm a pretty hard fellow, but that's +on the outside. Now, hustle out of your suits, and we'll give you all +a good stew and a rub-down." + +What the stew was soon appeared plain to Ken. He was the first player +undressed, and Murray, lifting up one of the box-lids, pushed Ken inside. + +"Sit down and put your feet in that pan," he directed. "When I drop the +lid let your head come out the hole. There!" Then he wrapped a huge towel +around Ken's neck, being careful to tuck it close and tight. With that +he reached round to the back of the box and turned on the steam. + +Ken felt like a jack-in-the-box. The warm steam was pleasant. He looked +about him to see the other boys being placed in like positions. Raymond +had the box on one side, and Reddy Ray the one on the other. + +"It's great," said Ray, smiling at Ken. "You'll like it." + +Raymond looked scared. Ken wondered if the fellow ever got any enjoyment +out of things. Then Ken found himself attending to his own sensations. +The steam was pouring out of the pipe inside the box, and it was growing +wetter, thicker, and hotter. The pleasant warmth and tickling changed to +a burning sensation. Ken found himself bathed in a heavy sweat. Then he +began to smart in different places, and he was hard put to it to keep +rubbing them. The steam grew hotter; his body was afire; his breath +labored in great heaves. Ken felt that he must cry out. He heard +exclamations, then yells, from some of the other boxed-up players, +and he glanced quickly around. Reddy Ray was smiling, and did not +look at all uncomfortable. But Raymond was scarlet in the face, and +he squirmed his head to and fro. + +"_Ough!_" he bawled. "Let me out of here!" + +One of the negro attendants lifted the lid and helped Raymond out. +He danced about as if on hot bricks. His body was the color of a +boiled lobster. The attendant put him under one of the showers and +turned the water on. Raymond uttered one deep, low, "O-o-o-o!" Then +McCord begged to be let out; Weir's big head, with its shock of hair, +resembled that of an angry lion; little Trace screamed, and Duncan +yelled. + +"Peg, how're you?" asked Murray, walking up to Ken. "It's always pretty +hot the first few times. But afterward it's fine. Look at Reddy." + +"Murray, give Peg a good stewin'," put in Arthurs. "He's got a great +arm, and we must take care of it." + +Ken saw the other boys, except Ray, let out, and he simply could not +endure the steam any longer. + +"I've got--enough," he stammered. + +"Scotty, turn on a little more stew," ordered Murray, cheerfully; then +he rubbed his hand over Ken's face. "You're not hot yet." + +Scotty turned on more steam, and Ken felt it as a wet flame. He was +being flayed alive. + +"Please--please--let me out!" he implored. + +With a laugh Murray lifted the lid, and Ken hopped out. He was as red +as anything red he had ever seen. Then Scotty shoved him under a shower, +and as the icy water came down in a deluge Ken lost his breath, his +chest caved in, and he gasped. Scotty led him out into the room, dried +him with a towel, rubbed him down, and then, resting Ken's arm on his +shoulder, began to pat and beat and massage it. In a few moments Ken +thought his arm was a piece of live India rubber. He had never been in +such a glow. When he had dressed he felt as light as air, strong, fresh, +and keen for action. + +"Hustle now, Peg," said Arthurs. "Get your things packed. Supper to-night +at the trainin'-house." + +It was after dark when Ken got an expressman to haul his trunk to the +address on Spring Street. The house was situated about the middle of +a four-storied block, and within sight of Grant Field. Worry answered +his ring. + +"Here you are, Peg, the last one. I was beginnin' to worry about you. +Have your trunk taken right up, third floor back. Hurry down, for dinner +will be ready soon." + +Ken followed at the heels of the expressman up to his room. He was +surprised and somewhat taken back to find Raymond sitting upon the +bed. + +"Hello! excuse me," said Ken. "Guess I've got the wrong place." + +"The coach said you and I were to room together," returned Raymond. + +"Us? Room-mates?" ejaculated Ken. + +Raymond took offence at this. + +"Wull, I guess I can stand it," he growled. + +"I hope I can," was Ken's short reply. It was Ken's failing that he +could not help retaliating. But he was also as repentant as he was +quick-tempered. "Oh, I didn't mean that.... See here, Raymond, if +we've got to be room-mates--" + +Ken paused in embarrassment. + +"Wull, we're both on the varsity," said Raymond. + +"That's so," rejoined Ken, brightening. "It makes a whole lot of +difference, doesn't it?" + +Raymond got off the bed and looked at Ken. + +"What's your first name?" queried he. "I don't like 'Peg.'" + +"Kenneth. Ken, for short. What's yours?" + +"Mine's Kel. Wull, Ken--" + +Having gotten so far Raymond hesitated, and it was Ken who first +offered his hand. Raymond eagerly grasped it. That broke the ice. + +"Kel, I haven't liked your looks at all," said Ken, apologetically. + +"Ken, I've been going to lick you all spring." + +They went down-stairs arm in arm. + +It was with great interest and curiosity that Ken looked about the cozy +and comfortable rooms. The walls were adorned with pictures of varsity +teams and players, and the college colors were much in evidence. College +magazines and papers littered the table in the reading-room. + +"Boys, we'll be pretty snug and nice here when things get to runnin' +smooth. The grub will be plain, but plenty of it." + +There were twelve in all at the table, with the coach seated at the head. +The boys were hungry, and besides, as they had as yet had no chance to +become acquainted, the conversation lagged. The newness and strangeness, +however, did not hide the general air of suppressed gratification. After +dinner Worry called them all together in the reading-room. + +"Well, boys, here we are together like one big family, and we're shut +in for two months. Now, I know you've all been fightin' for places on +the team, and have had no chance to be friendly. It's always that way +in the beginnin', and I dare say there'll be some scraps among you +before things straighten out. We'll have more to say about that later. +The thing now is you're all varsity men, and I'm puttin' you on your +word of honor. Your word is good enough for me. Here's my rules, and +I'm more than usually particular this year, for reasons I'll tell later. + +"You're not to break trainin'. You're not to eat anything anywhere but +here. You're to cut out cigarettes and drinks. You're to be in bed at +ten o'clock. And I advise, although I ain't insistin', that if you have +any leisure time you'll spend most of it here. That's all." + +For Ken the three days following passed as so many hours. He did not in +the least dread the approaching game with State University, but his mind +held scarcely anything outside of Arthurs' coaching. The practice of the +players had been wholly different. It was as if they had been freed from +some binding spell. Worry kept them at fielding and batting for four full +hours every afternoon. Ken, after pitching to Dean for a while, batted +to the infield and so had opportunity to see the improvement. Graves was +brilliant at third, Weir was steady and sure at short, Raymond seemed +to have springs in his legs and pounced upon the ball with wonderful +quickness, and McCord fielded all his chances successfully. + +On the afternoon of the game Worry waited at the training-house until +all the players came down-stairs in uniform. + +"Boys, what's happened in the past doesn't count. We start over to-day. +I'm not goin' to say much or confuse you with complex team coachin'. +But I'm hopeful. I sort of think there's a nigger in the woodpile. I'll +tell you to-night if I'm right. Think of how you have been roasted by +the students. Play like tigers. Put out of your mind everything but +tryin'. Nothin' counts for you, boys. Errors are nothin'; mistakes +are nothin'. Play the game as one man. Don't think of yourselves. You +all know when you ought to hit or bunt or run. I'm trustin' you. I won't +say a word from the bench. And don't underrate our chances. Remember +that I think it's possible we may have somethin' up our sleeves. That's +all from me till after the game." + +Worry walked to Grant Field with Ken. He talked as they went along, but +not on baseball. The State team was already out and practising. Worry +kept Ken near him on the bench and closely watched the visitors in +practice. When the gong rang to call them in he sent his players out, +with a remark to Ken to take his warming-up easily. Ken thought he had +hardly warmed up at all before the coach called him in. + +"Peg, listen!" he whispered. His gaze seemed to hypnotize Ken. "Do you +have any idea what you'll do to this bunch from State?" + +"Why--no--I--" + +"Listen! I tell you I know they won't be able to touch you.... Size up +batters in your own way. If they look as if they'd pull or chop on a +curve, hand it up. If not, peg 'em a straight one over the inside corner, +high. If you get in a hole with runners on bases use that fast jump ball, +as hard as you can drive it, right over the pan.... Go in with perfect +confidence. I wouldn't say that to you, Peg, if I didn't feel it myself, +honestly. I'd say for you to do your best. But I've sized up these +State fellows, and they won't be able to touch you. Remember what I +say. That's all." + +"I'll remember," said Ken, soberly. + +When the umpire called the game there were perhaps fifty students in the +bleachers and a few spectators in the grand-stand, so poor an attendance +that the State players loudly voiced their derision. + +"Hey! boys," yelled one, "we drew a crowd last year, and look at that!" + +"It's Wayne's dub team," replied another. They ran upon the field as if +the result of the game was a foregone conclusion. Their pitcher, a lanky +individual, handled the ball with assurance. + +Homans led off for Wayne. He stood left-handed at the plate, and held +his bat almost in the middle. He did not swing, but poked at the first +ball pitched and placed a short hit over third. Raymond, also left-handed, +came next, and, letting two balls go, he bunted the third. Running fast, +he slid into first base and beat the throw. Homans kept swiftly on toward +third, drew the throw, and, sliding, was also safe. It was fast work, +and the Wayne players seemed to rise off the bench with the significance +of the play. Worry Arthurs looked on from under the brim of his hat, and +spoke no word. Then Reddy Ray stepped up. + +"They're all left-handed!" shouted a State player. The pitcher looked +at Reddy, then motioned for his outfielders to play deeper. With that +he delivered the ball, which the umpire called a strike. Reddy stood +still and straight while two more balls sped by, then he swung on the +next. A vicious low hit cut out over first base and skipped in great +bounds to the fence. Homans scored. Raymond turned second, going fast. +But it was Ray's speed that electrified the watching players. They +jumped up cheering. + +"Oh, see him run!" yelled Ken. + +He was on third before Raymond reached the plate. Weir lifted a high +fly to left field, and when the ball dropped into the fielder's hands +Ray ran home on the throw-in. Three runs had been scored in a twinkling. +It amazed the State team. They were not slow in bandying remarks among +themselves. "Fast! Who's that red-head? Is this your dub team? Get in +the game, boys!" They began to think more of playing ball and less of +their own superiority. Graves, however, and McCord following him, went +out upon plays to the infield. + +As Ken walked out toward the pitcher's box Homans put a hand on his arm, +and said: "Kid, put them all over. Don't waste any. Make every batter +hit. Keep your nerve. We're back of you out here." Then Reddy Ray, in +passing, spoke with a cool, quiet faith that thrilled Ken, "Peg, we've +got enough runs now to win." + +Ken faced the plate all in a white glow. He was far from calmness, but +it was a restless, fiery hurry for the action of the game. He remembered +the look in Worry's eyes, and every word that he had spoken rang in his +ears. Receiving the ball from the umpire, he stepped upon the slab with +a sudden, strange, deep tremor. It passed as quickly, and then he was +eying the first batter. He drew a long breath, standing motionless, with +all the significance of Worry's hope flashing before him, and then he +whirled and delivered the ball. The batter struck at it after it had +passed him, and it cracked in Dean's mitt. + +"Speed!" called the State captain. "Quick eye, there!" + +The batter growled some unintelligible reply. Then he fouled the second +ball, missed the next, and was out. The succeeding State player hit an +easy fly to Homans, and the next had two strikes called upon him, and +swung vainly at the third. + +Dean got a base on balls for Wayne, Trace went out trying to bunt, +and Ken hit into short, forcing Dean at second. Homans lined to third, +retiring the side. The best that the State players could do in their +half was for one man to send a weak grounder to Raymond, one to fly out, +and the other to fail on strikes. Wayne went to bat again, and Raymond +got his base by being hit by a pitched ball. Reddy Ray bunted and was +safe. Weir struck out. Graves rapped a safety through short, scoring +Raymond, and sending Ray to third. Then McCord fouled out to the catcher. +Again, in State's inning, they failed to get on base, being unable to +hit Ken effectively. + +So the game progressed, State slowly losing its aggressive playing, and +Wayne gaining what its opponents had lost. In the sixth Homans reached +his base on an error, stole second, went to third on Raymond's sacrifice, +and scored on Reddy's drive to right. State flashed up in their half, +getting two men to first on misplays of McCord and Weir, and scored a +run on a slow hit to Graves. + +With the bases full, Ken let his arm out and pitched the fast ball at +the limit of his speed. The State batters were helpless before it, but +they scored two runs on passed strikes by Dean. The little catcher had +a hard time judging Ken's jump ball. That ended the run-getting for +State, though they came near scoring again on more fumbling in the +infield. In the eighth Ken landed a safe fly over second, and tallied +on a double by Homans. + +Before Ken knew the game was half over it had ended--Wayne 6, State 3. +His players crowded around him and some one called for the Wayne yell. +It was given with wild vehemence. + +From that moment until dinner was over at the training-house Ken +appeared to be the centre of a humming circle. What was said and +done he never remembered. Then the coach stopped the excitement. + +"Boys, now for a heart-to-heart talk," he said, with a smile both happy +and grave. "We won to-day, as I predicted. State had a fairly strong team, +but if Ward had received perfect support they would not have got a man +beyond second. That's the only personal mention I'll make. Now, listen...." + +He paused, with his eyes glinting brightly and his jaw quivering. + +"I expected to win, but before the game I never dreamed of our +possibilities. I got a glimpse now of what hard work and a demon +spirit to play together might make this team. I've had an inspiration. +We are goin' to beat Herne and play Place to a standstill." + +Not a boy moved an eyelash as Arthurs made this statement, +and the sound of a pin dropping could have been heard. + +"To do that we must pull together as no boys ever pulled together +before. We must be all one heart. We must be actuated by one spirit. +Listen! If you will stick together and to me, I'll make a team that +will be a wonder. Never the hittin' team as good as last year's varsity, +but a faster team, a finer machine. Think of that! Think of how we have +been treated this year! For that we'll win all the greater glory. It's +worth all there is in you, boys. You would have the proudest record of +any team that ever played for old Wayne. + +"I love the old college, boys, and I've given it the best years of my +life. If it's anything to you, why, understand that if I fail to build +up a good team this year I shall be let go by those directors who have +made the change in athletics. I could stand that, but--I've a boy of +my own who's preparin' for Wayne, and my heart is set on seein' him +enter--and he said he never will if they let me go. So, you youngsters +and me--we've much to gain. Go to your rooms now and think, think as +you never did before, until the spirit of this thing, the possibility +of it, grips you as it has me." + + + + +XII + +KEN CLASHES WITH GRAVES + + +Two weeks after the contest with State University four more games +with minor colleges had been played and won by Wayne. Hour by hour +the coach had drilled the players; day by day the grilling practice +told in quickening grasp of team-play, in gradual correction of +erratic fielding and wild throwing. Every game a few more students +attended, reluctantly, in half-hearted manner. + +"We're comin' with a rush," said Worry to Ken. "Say, but Dale and the +old gang have a surprise in store for 'em! And the students--they're +goin' to drop dead pretty soon.... Peg, Murray tells me he's puttin' +weight on you." + +"Why, yes, it's the funniest thing," replied Ken. "To-day I weighed +one hundred and sixty-four. Worry, I'm afraid I'm getting fat." + +"Fat, nothin'," snorted Worry. "It's muscle. I told Murray to put beef +on you all he can. Pretty soon you'll be able to peg a ball through the +back-stop. Dean's too light, Peg. He's plucky and will make a catcher, +but he's too light. You're batterin' him all up." + +Worry shook his head seriously. + +"Oh, he's fine!" exclaimed Ken. "I'm not afraid any more. He digs my +drop out of the dust, and I can't get a curve away from him. He's weak +only on the jump ball, and I don't throw that often, only when I let +drive." + +"You'll be usin' that often enough against Herne and Place. I'm dependin' +on that for those games. Peg, are you worryin' any, losin' any sleep, over +those games?" + +"Indeed I'm not," replied Ken, laughing. + +"Say, I wish you'd have a balloon ascension, and have it quick. It ain't +natural, Peg, for you not to get a case of rattles. It's comin' to you, +and I don't want it in any of the big games." + +"I don't want it either. But Worry, pitching is all a matter of control, +you say so often. I don't believe I could get wild and lose my control if +I tried." + +"Peg, you sure have the best control of any pitcher I ever coached. It's +your success. It'll make a great pitcher out of you. All you've got to +learn is where to pitch 'em to Herne and Place." + +"How am I to learn that?" + +"Listen!" Worry whispered. "I'm goin' to send you to Washington next week +to see Place and Herne play Georgetown. You'll pay your little money and +sit in the grand-stand right behind the catcher. You'll have a pencil and a +score card, and you'll be enjoyin' the game. But, Peg, you'll also be usin' +your head, and when you see one of 'em players pull away on a curve, or hit +weak on a drop, or miss a high fast one, or slug a low ball, you will jot +it down on your card. You'll watch Place's hard hitters with hawk eyes, +my boy, and a pitcher's memory. And when they come along to Grant Field +you'll have 'em pretty well sized up." + +"That's fine, Worry, but is it fair?" queried Ken. + +"Fair? Why, of course. They all do it. We saw Place's captain in the +grand-stand here last spring." + +The coach made no secret of his pride and faith in Ken. It was this, +perhaps, as much as anything, which kept Ken keyed up. For Ken was +really pitching better ball than he knew how to pitch. He would have +broken his arm for Worry; he believed absolutely in what the coach +told him; he did not think of himself at all. + +Worry, however, had plenty of enthusiasm for his other players. Every +evening after dinner he would call them all about him and talk for an +hour. Sometimes he would tell funny baseball stories; again, he told of +famous Wayne-Place games, and how they had been won or lost; then at other +times he dwelt on the merits and faults of his own team. In speaking of +the swift development of this year's varsity he said it was as remarkable +as it had been unforeseen. He claimed it would be a bewildering surprise +to Wayne students and to the big college teams. He was working toward +the perfection of a fast run-getting machine. In the five games already +played and won a good idea could be gotten of Wayne's team, individually +and collectively. Homans was a scientific short-field hitter and remarkably +sure. Raymond could not bat, but he had developed into a wonder in reaching +first base, by bunt or base on balls, or being hit. Reddy Ray was a hard +and timely batter, and when he got on base his wonderful fleetness made +him almost sure to score. Of the other players Graves batted the best; +but taking the team as a whole, and comparing them with Place or Herne, +it appeared that Reddy and Homans were the only great hitters, and the +two of them, of course, could not make a great hitting team. In fielding, +however, the coach said he had never seen the like. They were all fast, +and Homans was perfect in judgment on fly balls, and Raymond was quick +as lightning to knock down base hits, and as to the intercollegiate +sprinter in left field, it was simply a breath-taking event to see him +run after a ball. Last of all was Ken Ward with his great arm. It was a +strangely assorted team, Worry said, one impossible to judge at the moment, +but it was one to watch. + +"Boys, we're comin' with a rush," he went on to say. "But somethin's +holdin' us back a little. There's no lack of harmony, yet there's a +drag. In spite of the spirit you've shown--and I want to say it's been +great--the team doesn't work together as one man _all_ the time. I advise +you all to stick closer together. Stay away from the club, and everywhere +except lectures. We've got to be closer 'n brothers. It'll all work out +right before we go up against Herne in June. That game's comin', boys, +and by that time the old college will be crazy. It'll be _our_ turn then." + +Worry's talks always sank deeply into Ken's mind and set him to thinking +and revolving over and over the gist of them so that he could remember +to his profit. + +He knew that some of the boys had broken training, and he pondered if that +was what caused the drag Worry mentioned. Ken had come to feel the life +and fortunes of the varsity so keenly that he realized how the simplest +deviations from honor might affect the smooth running of the team. It must +be perfectly smooth. And to make it so every player must be of one mind. + +Ken proved to himself how lack of the highest spirit on the part of one +or two of the team tended toward the lowering of the general spirit. For +he began to worry, and almost at once it influenced his playing. He found +himself growing watchful of his comrades and fearful of what they might +be doing. He caught himself being ashamed of his suspicions. He would as +lief have cut off his hand as break his promise to the coach. Perhaps, +however, he exaggerated his feeling and sense of duty. He remembered the +scene in Dale's room the night he refused to smoke and drink; how Dale +had commended his refusal. Nevertheless, he gathered from Dale's remark +to Worry that breaking training was not unusual or particularly harmful. + +"With Dale's team it might not have been so bad," thought Ken. "But it's +different with us. We've got to make up in spirit what we lack in ability." + +Weir and McCord occupied the room next to Ken's, and Graves and Trace, +rooming together, were also on that floor. Ken had tried with all his +might to feel friendly toward the third-baseman. He had caught Graves +carrying cake and pie to his room and smoking cigarettes with the window +open. One night Graves took cigarettes from his pocket and offered them +to Kel, Trace, and Ken, who all happened to be in Ken's room at the time. +Trace readily accepted; Kel demurred at first, but finally took one. +Graves then tossed the pack to Ken. + +"No, I don't smoke. Besides, it's breaking training," said Ken. + +"You make me sick, Ward," retorted Graves. "You're a wet blanket. Do you +think we're going to be as sissy as that? It's hard enough to stand the +grub we get here, without giving up a little smoke." + +Ken made no reply, but he found it difficult to smother a hot riot in his +breast. When the other boys had gone to their rooms Ken took Kel to task +about his wrong-doing. + +"Do you think that's the right sort of thing? What would Worry say?" + +"Ken, I don't care about it, not a bit," replied Kel, flinging his +cigarette out of the window. "But Graves is always asking me to do +things--I hate to refuse. It seems so--" + +"Kel, if Worry finds it out you'll lose your place on the team." + +"No!" exclaimed Raymond, staring. + +"Mark what I say. I wish you'd stop letting Graves coax you into things." + +"Ken, he's always smuggling pie and cake and candy into his room. I've +had some of it. Trace said he'd brought in something to drink, too." + +"It's a shame," cried Ken, in anger. "I never liked him and I've tried +hard to change it. Now I'm glad I couldn't." + +"He doesn't have any use for you," replied Kel. "He's always running +you down to the other boys. What'd you ever do to him, Ken?" + +"Oh, it was that potato stunt of mine last fall. He's a Soph, and I hit +him, I guess." + +"I think it's more than that," went on Raymond. "Anyway, you look out +for him, because he's aching to spoil your face." + +"He is, is he?" snapped Ken. + +Ken was too angry to talk any more, and so the boys went to bed. The next +few days Ken discovered that either out of shame or growing estrangement +Raymond avoided him, and he was bitterly hurt. He had come to like the +little second-baseman, and had hoped they would be good friends. It was +easy to see that Graves became daily bolder, and more lax in training, +and his influence upon several of the boys grew stronger. And when Dean, +Schoonover, and Duncan appeared to be joining the clique, Ken decided he +would have to talk to some one, so he went up to see Ray and Homans. + +The sprinter was alone, sitting by his lamp, with books and notes spread +before him. + +"Hello, Peg! come in. You look a little glum. What's wrong?" + +Reddy Ray seemed like an elder brother to Ken, and he found himself +blurting out his trouble. Ray looked thoughtful, and after a moment +he replied in his quiet way: + +"Peg, it's new to you, but it's an old story to me. The track and crew +men seldom break training, which is more than can be said of the other +athletes. It seems to me baseball fellows are the most careless. They +really don't have to train so conscientiously. It's only a kind of form." + +"But it's different this year," burst out Ken. "You know what Worry said, +and how he trusts us." + +"You're right, Peg, only you mustn't take it so hard. Things will work +out all right. Homans and I were talking about that to-day. You see, +Worry wants the boys to elect a captain soon. But perhaps he has not +confided in you youngsters. He will suggest that you elect Homans or +me. Well, I won't run for the place, so it'll be Homans. He's the man +to captain us, that's certain. Graves thinks, though, that he can pull +the wires and be elected captain. He's way off. Besides, Peg, he's +making a big mistake. Worry doesn't like him, and when he finds out +about this break in training we'll have a new third-baseman. No doubt +Blake will play the bag. Graves is the only drag in Worry's baseball +machine now, and he'll not last.... So, Peg, don't think any more about +it. Mind you, the whole team circles round you. You're the pivot, and +as sure as you're born you'll be Wayne's captain next year. That's +something for you to keep in mind and work for. If Graves keeps after +you--hand him one! That's not against rules. Punch him! If Worry knew +the truth he would pat you on the back for slugging Graves. Cheer up, +Peg! Even if Graves has got all the kids on his side, which I doubt, +Homans and I are with you. And you can just bet that Worry Arthurs will +side with us.... Now run along, for I must study." + +This conversation was most illuminating to Ken. He left Reddy's room +all in a quiver of warm pleasure and friendliness at the great sprinter's +quiet praise and advice. To make such a friend was worth losing a hundred +friends like Graves. He dismissed the third-baseman and his scheming from +mind, and believed Reddy as he had believed Arthurs. But Ken thought much +of what he divined was a glimmering of the inside workings of a college +baseball team. He had one wild start of rapture at the idea of becoming +captain of Wayne's varsity next year, and then he dared think no more +of that. + +The day dawned for Ken to go to Washington, and he was so perturbed at +his responsibilities that he quite forgot to worry about the game Wayne +had to play in his absence. Arthurs intended to pitch Schoonover in that +game, and had no doubt as to its outcome. The coach went to the station +with Ken, once more repeated his instructions, and saw him upon the +train. Certainly there was no more important personage on board that +Washington Limited than Ken Ward. In fact, Ken was so full of importance +and responsibility that he quite divided his time between foolish pride +in his being chosen to "size up" the great college teams and fearful +conjecture as to his ability. + +At any rate, the time flew by, the trip seemed short, and soon he was +on the Georgetown field. It was lucky that he arrived early and got +a seat in the middle of the grand-stand, for there was a throng in +attendance when the players came on the diamond. The noisy bleachers, +the merry laughter, the flashing colors, and especially the bright +gowns and pretty faces of the girls gave Ken pleasurable consciousness +of what it would mean to play before such a crowd. At Wayne he had +pitched to empty seats. Remembering Worry's prophecy, however, he +was content to wait. + +From that moment his duty absorbed him. He found it exceedingly +fascinating to study the batters, and utterly forgot his responsibility. +Not only did he jot down on his card his idea of the weakness and +strength of the different hitters, but he compared what he would have +pitched to them with what was actually pitched. Of course, he had no +test of his comparison, but he felt intuitively that he had the better +of it. Watching so closely, Ken had forced home to him Arthurs' repeated +assertion that control of the ball made a pitcher. Both pitchers in this +game were wild. Locating the plate with them was more a matter of luck +than ability. The Herne pitcher kept wasting balls and getting himself +in the hole, and then the heavy Georgetown players would know when he +had to throw a strike, if he could, and accordingly they hit hard. +They beat Herne badly. + +The next day in the game with Place it was a different story. Ken +realized he was watching a great team. They reminded him of Dale's +varsity, though they did not play that fiendish right-field-hitting +game. Ken had a numbness come over him at the idea of facing this +Place team. It soon passed, for they had their vulnerable places. +It was not so much that they hit hard on speed and curves, for they +got them where they wanted them. Keene flied out on high fast balls +over the inside corner; Starke bit on low drops; Martin was weak on +a slow ball; MacNeff, the captain, could not touch speed under his +chin, and he always struck at it. On the other hand, he killed a low +ball. Prince was the only man who, in Ken's judgment, seemed to have +no weakness. These men represented the batting strength of Place, and +Ken, though he did not in the least underestimate them, had no fear. +He would have liked to pitch against them right there. + +"It's all in control of the ball," thought Ken. "Here are seventeen +bases on balls in two games--four pitchers. They're wild.... But +suppose I got wild, too?" + +The idea made Ken shiver. + +He travelled all night, sleeping on the train, and got home to the +training-house about nine the next morning. Worry was out, Scotty said, +and the boys had all gone over to college. Ken went up-stairs and found +Raymond in bed. + +"Why, Kel, what's the matter?" asked Ken. + +"I'm sick," replied Kel. He was pale and appeared to be in distress. + +"Oh, I'm sorry. Can't I do something? Get you some medicine? Call Murray?" + +"Ken, don't call anybody, unless you want to see me disgraced. Worry +got out this morning before he noticed my absence from breakfast. I was +scared to death." + +"Scared? Disgraced?" + +"Ken, I drank a little last night. It always makes me sick. You know +I've a weak stomach." + +"Kel, you didn't drink, _say_ you didn't!" implored Ken, sitting +miserably down on the bed. + +"Yes, I did. I believe I was half drunk. I can't stand anything. +I'm sick, sick of myself, too, this morning. And I hate Graves." + +Ken jumped up with kindling eyes. + +"Kel, you've gone back on me--we'd started to be such friends--I tried +to persuade you--" + +"I know. I'm sorry, Ken. But I really liked you best. I was--you know +how it is, Ken. If only Worry don't find it out!" + +"Tell him," said Ken, quickly. + +"What?" groaned Kel, in fright. + +"Tell him. Let me tell him for you." + +"No--no--no. He'd fire me off the team, and I couldn't stand that." + +"I'll bet Worry wouldn't do anything of the kind. Maybe he knows +more than you think." + +"I'm afraid to tell him, Ken. I just can't tell him." + +"But you gave your word of honor not to break training. The only +thing left is to confess." + +"I won't tell, Ken. It's not so much my own place on the team--there +are the other fellows." + +Ken saw that it was no use to argue with Raymond while he was so sick +and discouraged, so he wisely left off talking and did his best to make +him comfortable. Raymond dropped asleep after a little, and when he +awakened just before lunch-time he appeared better. + +"I won't be able to practise to-day," he said; "but I'll go down to lunch." + +As he was dressing the boys began to come in from college and ran whistling +up the stairs. + +Graves bustled into the room with rather anxious haste. + +"How're you feeling?" he asked. + +"Pretty rocky. Graves--I told Ward about it," said Raymond. + +Upon his hurried entrance Graves had not observed Ken. + +"What did you want to do that for?" he demanded, arrogantly. + +Raymond looked at him, but made no reply. + +"Ward, I suppose you'll squeal," said Graves, sneeringly. "That'll +about be your speed." + +Ken rose and, not trusting himself to speak, remained silent. + +"You sissy!" cried Graves, hotly. "Will you peach on us to Arthurs?" + +"No. But if you don't get out of my room I'll hand you one," +replied Ken, his voice growing thick. + +Graves's face became red as fire. + +"What? Why, you white-faced, white-haired freshman! I've been aching +to punch you!" + +"Well, why don't you commence?" + +With the first retort Ken had felt a hot trembling go over him, +and having yielded to his anger he did not care what happened. + +"Ken--Graves," pleaded Raymond, white as a sheet. "Don't--please!" +He turned from one to the other. "Don't scrap!" + +"Graves, it's up to some one to call you, and I'm going to do it," +said Ken, passionately. "You've been after me all season, but I +wouldn't care for that. It's your rotten influence on Kel and the +other boys that makes me wild. You are the drag in this baseball +team. You are a crack ball-player, but you don't know what college +spirit means. You're a mucker!" + +"I'll lick you for that!" raved Graves, shaking his fists. + +"You can't lick me!" + +"Come outdoors. I dare you to come outdoors. I dare you!" + +Ken strode out of the room and started down the hall. "Come on!" +he called, grimly, and ran down the stairs. Graves hesitated a +moment, then followed. + +Raymond suddenly called after them: + +"Give it to him, Ken! Slug him! Beat him all up!" + + + + +XIII + +FRIENDSHIP + + +A half-hour or less afterward Ken entered the training-house. It chanced +that the boys, having come in, were at the moment passing through the +hall to the dining-room, and with them was Worry Arthurs. + +"Hello! you back? What's the matter with you?" demanded the coach. + +Ken's lips were puffed and bleeding, and his chin was bloody. Sundry +red and dark marks disfigured his usually clear complexion. His eyes +were blazing, and his hair rumpled down over his brow. + +"You've been in a scrap," declared Worry. + +"I know it," said Ken. "Let me go up and wash." + +Worry had planted himself at the foot of the stairway in front of Ken. +The boys stood silent and aghast. Suddenly there came thumps upon the +stairs, and Raymond appeared, jumping down three steps at a time. He +dodged under Worry's arm and plunged at Ken to hold him with both hands. + +"Ken! You're all bloody!" he exclaimed, in great excitement. "He didn't +lick you? Say he didn't! He's got to fight me, too! You're all bunged up!" + +"Wait till you see him!" muttered Ken. + +"A-huh!" said Worry. "Been scrappin' with Graves! What for?" + +"It's a personal matter," replied Ken. + +"Come, no monkey-biz with me," said the coach, sharply. "Out with it!" + +There was a moment's silence. + +"Mr. Arthurs, it's my fault," burst out Raymond, flushed and eager. +"Ken was fighting on my account." + +"It wasn't anything of the kind," retorted Ken, vehemently. + +"Yes it was," cried Raymond, "and I'm going to tell why." + +The hall door opened to admit Graves. He was dishevelled, dirty, +battered, and covered with blood. When he saw the group in the hall +he made as if to dodge out. + +"Here, come on! Take your medicine," called Worry, tersely. + +Graves shuffled in, cast down and sheepish, a very different fellow +from his usual vaunting self. + +"Now, Raymond, what's this all about?" demanded Worry. + +Raymond changed color, but he did not hesitate an instant. + +"Ken came in this morning and found me sick in bed. I told him I had +been half drunk last night--and that Graves had gotten me to drink. +Then Graves came in. He and Ken had hard words. They went outdoors +to fight." + +"Would you have told me?" roared the coach in fury. "Would you have +come to me with this if I hadn't caught Peg?" + +Raymond faced him without flinching. + +"At first I thought not--when Ken begged me to confess I just couldn't. +But now I know I would." + +At that Worry lost his sudden heat, and then he turned to the stricken +Graves. + +"Mebbe it'll surprise you, Graves, to learn that I knew a little of +what you've been doin'. I told Homans to go to you in a quiet way and +tip off your mistake. I hoped you'd see it. But you didn't. Then +you've been knockin' Ward all season, for no reason I could discover +but jealousy. Now, listen! Peg Ward has done a lot for me already this +year, and he'll do more. But even if he beats Place, it won't mean any +more to me than the beatin' he's given you. Now, you pack your things +and get out of here. There's no position for you on this varsity." + +Without a word in reply and amid intense silence Graves went slowly +up-stairs. When he disappeared Worry sank into a chair, and looked as +if he was about to collapse. Little Trace walked hesitatingly forward +with the manner of one propelled against his will. + +"Mr. Arthurs, I--I," he stammered--"I'm guilty, too. I broke training. +I want to--" + +The coach waved him back. "I don't want to hear it, not another +word--from anybody. It's made me sick. I can't stand any more. +Only I see I've got to change my rules. There won't be any rules +any more. You can all do as you like. I'd rather have you all go +stale than practise deceit on me. I cut out the trainin' rules." + +"_No!_" The team rose up as one man and flung the refusal at the coach. + +"Worry, we won't stand for that," spoke up Reddy Ray. His smooth, cool +voice was like oil on troubled waters. "I think Homans and I can answer +for the kids from now on. Graves was a disorganizer--that's the least +I'll say of him. We'll elect Homans captain of the team, and then we'll +cut loose like a lot of demons. It's been a long, hard drill for you, +Worry, but we're in the stretch now and going to finish fast. We've +been a kind of misfit team all spring. You've had a blind faith that +something could be made out of us. Homans has waked up to our hidden +strength. And I go further than that. I've played ball for years. I +know the game. I held down left field for two seasons on the greatest +college team ever developed out West. That's new to you. Well, it gives +me license to talk a little. I want to tell you that I can _feel_ what's +in this team. It's like the feeling I have when I'm running against a +fast man in the sprints. From now on we'll be a family of brothers with +one idea. And that'll be to play Place off their feet." + +Coach Arthurs sat up as if he had been given the elixir of life. +Likewise the members of the team appeared to be under the spell +of a powerful stimulus. The sprinter's words struck fire from +all present. + +Homans' clear gray eyes were like live coals. "Boys! One rousing cheer +for Worry Arthurs and for Wayne!" + +Lusty, strained throats let out the cheer with a deafening roar. + +It was strange and significant at that moment to see Graves, white-faced +and sullen, come down the stairs and pass through the hall and out of the +door. It was as if discord, selfishness, and wavering passed out with him. +Arthurs and Homans and Ray could not have hoped for a more striking lesson +to the young players. + +Dave, the colored waiter, appeared in the doorway of the dining-room. +"Mr. Arthurs, I done call yo' all. Lunch is sho' gittin' cold." + +That afternoon Wayne played the strong Hornell University nine. + +Blake, new at third base for Wayne, was a revelation. He was all legs +and arms. Weir accepted eight chances. Raymond, sick or not, was all +over the infield, knocking down grounders, backing up every play. To +McCord, balls in the air or at his feet were all the same. Trace caught +a foul fly right off the bleachers. Homans fielded with as much speed +as the old varsity's centre and with better judgment. Besides, he made +four hits and four runs. Reddy Ray drove one ball into the bleachers, +and on a line-drive to left field he circled the bases in time that +Murray said was wonderful. Dean stood up valiantly to his battering, +and for the first game had no passed balls. And Ken Ward whirled +tirelessly in the box, and one after another he shot fast balls over +the plate. He made the Hornell players hit; he had no need to extend +himself to the use of the long swing and whip of his arm that produced +the jump ball; and he shut them out without a run, and gave them only +two safe hits. All through the game Worry Arthurs sat on the bench +without giving an order or a sign. His worried look had vanished with +the crude playing of his team. + +That night the Hornell captain, a veteran player of unquestionable +ability, was entertained at Carlton Club by Wayne friends, and he +expressed himself forcibly: "We came over to beat Wayne's weak team. +It'll be some time till we discover what happened. Young Ward has the +most magnificent control and speed. He's absolutely relentless. And +that frog-legged second-baseman--oh, say, can't he cover ground! Homans +is an all-round star. Then, your red-headed Ray, the sprinter--he's a +marvel. Ward, Homans, Ray--they're demons, and they're making demons +of the kids. I can't understand why Wayne students don't support their +team. It's strange." + +What the Hornell captain said went from lip to lip throughout the club, +and then it spread, like a flame in wind-blown grass, from club to +dormitory, and thus over all the university. + +"Boys, the college is wakin' up," said Worry, rubbing his hands. +"Yesterday's game jarred 'em. They can't believe their own ears. Why, +Hornell almost beat Dale's team last spring. Now, kids, look out. We'll +stand for no fussin' over us. We don't want any jollyin'. We've waited +long for encouragement. It didn't come, and now we'll play out the +string alone. There'll be a rush to Grant Field. It cuts no ice with +us. Let 'em come to see the boys they hissed and guyed early in the +spring. We'll show 'em a few things. We'll make 'em speechless. We'll +make 'em so ashamed they won't know what to do. We'll repay all their +slights by beatin' Place." + +Worry was as excited as on the day he discovered that Ken was a pitcher. + +"One more word, boys," he went on. "Keep together now. Run back here to +your rooms as quick as you get leave from college. Be civil when you are +approached by students, but don't mingle, not yet. Keep to yourselves. +Your reward is comin'. It'll be great. Only wait!" + +And that was the last touch of fire which moulded Worry's players into +a family of brothers. Close and warm and fine was the culmination of +their friendship. On the field they were dominated by one impulse, +almost savage in its intensity. When they were off the field the +springs of youth burst forth to flood the hours with fun. + +In the mornings when the mail-man came there was always a wild scramble +for letters. And it developed that Weir received more than his share. +He got mail every day, and his good-fortune could not escape the lynx +eyes of his comrades. Nor could the size and shape of the envelope and +the neat, small handwriting fail to be noticed. Weir always stole off +by himself to read his daily letter, trying to escape a merry chorus of +tantalizing remarks. + +"Oh! Sugar!" + +"Dreamy Eyes!" + +"Gawge, the pink letter has come!" + +Weir's reception of these sallies earned him the name of Puff. + +One morning, for some unaccountable reason, Weir did not get down-stairs +when the mail arrived. Duncan got the pink letter, scrutinized the writing +closely, and put the letter in his coat. Presently Weir came bustling down. + +"Who's got the mail?" he asked, quickly. + +"No letters this morning," replied some one. + +"Is this Sunday?" asked Weir, rather stupidly. + +"Nope. I meant no letters for you." + +Weir looked blank, then stunned, then crestfallen. Duncan handed out the +pink envelope. The boys roared, and Weir strode off in high dudgeon. + +That day Duncan purchased a box of pink envelopes, and being expert with +a pen, he imitated the neat handwriting and addressed pink envelopes to +every boy in the training-house. Next morning no one except Weir seemed +in a hurry to answer the postman's ring. He came in with the letters and +his jaw dropping. It so happened that his letter was the very last one, +and when he got to it the truth flashed over him. Then the peculiar +appropriateness of the nickname Puff was plainly manifest. One by one +the boys slid off their chairs to the floor, and at last Weir had to +join in the laugh on him. + +Each of the boys in turn became the victim of some prank. Raymond +betrayed Ken's abhorrence of any kind of perfume, and straightway +there was a stealthy colloquy. Cheap perfume of a most penetrating +and paralyzing odor was liberally purchased. In Ken's absence from +his room all the clothing that he did not have on his back was +saturated. Then the conspirators waited for him to come up the +stoop, and from their hiding-place in a window of the second floor +they dropped an extra quart upon him. + +Ken vowed vengeance that would satisfy him thrice over, and he bided +his time until he learned who had perpetrated the outrage. + +One day after practice his opportunity came. Raymond, Weir, and Trace, +the guilty ones, went with Ken to the training quarters to take the +steam bath that Murray insisted upon at least once every week. It so +turned out that the four were the only players there that afternoon. +While the others were undressing, Ken bribed Scotty to go out on an +errand, and he let Murray into his scheme. Now, Murray not only had +acquired a strong liking for Ken, but he was exceedingly fond of a joke. + +"All I want to know," whispered Ken, "is if I might stew them too +much--really scald them, you know?" + +"No danger," whispered Murray. "That'll be the fun of it. You can't +hurt them. But they'll think they're dying." + +He hustled Raymond, Weir, and Trace into the tanks and fastened the lids, +and carefully tucked towels round their necks to keep in the steam. + +"Lots of stew to-day," he said, turning the handles. "Hello! Where's +Scotty?... Peg, will you watch these boys a minute while I step out?" + +"You bet I will," called Ken to the already disappearing Murray. + +The three cooped-in boys looked askance at Ken. + +"Wull, I'm not much stuck--" Raymond began glibly enough, and then, +becoming conscious that he might betray an opportunity to Ken, he +swallowed his tongue. + +"What'd you say?" asked Ken, pretending curiosity. Suddenly he began +to jump up and down. "Oh, my! Hullabelee! Schoodoorady! What a chance! +You gave it away!" + +"Look what he's doing!" yelled Trace. + +"Hyar!" added Weir. + +"Keep away from those pipes!" chimed in Raymond. + +"Boys, I've been laying for you, but I never thought I'd get a chance +like this. If Murray only stays out three minutes--just three minutes!" + +"Three minutes! You idiot, you won't keep us in here that long?" +asked Weir, in alarm. + +"Oh no, not at all.... Puff, I think you can stand a little more steam." + +Ken turned the handle on full. + +"Kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch." + +To the accompaniment of Raymond's threats he turned the second handle. + +"Trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? Now roast!" + +The heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and +their faces to take on a flush. Ken leisurely surveyed them and then +did an Indian war-dance in the middle of the room. + +"Here, let me out! Ken, you know how delicate I am," implored Raymond. + +"I couldn't entertain the idea for a second," replied Ken. + +"I'll lick you!" yelled Raymond. + +"My lad, you've got a brain-storm," returned Ken, in grieved tones. +"Not in the wildest flights of your nightmares have you ever said +anything so impossible as that." + +"Ken, dear Ken, dear old Peggie," cried Trace, "you know I've got a +skinned place on my hip where I slid yesterday. Steam isn't good for +that, Worry says. He'll be sore. You must let me out." + +"I intend to see, Willie, that you'll be sore too, and skinned all over," +replied Ken. + +"Open this lid! At once!" roared Weir, in sudden anger. His big +eyes rolled. + +"Bah!" taunted Ken. + +Then all three began to roar at Ken at once. "Brute! Devil! +Help! Help! Help! We'll fix you for this!... It's hotter! +it's fire! Aghh! Ouch! Oh! Ah-h-h!... O-o-o-o!... Murder! MURDER-R!" + +At this juncture Murray ran in. + +"What on earth! Peg, what did you do?" + +"I only turned on the steam full tilt," replied Ken, innocently. + +"Why, you shouldn't have done that," said Murray, in pained astonishment. + +"Stop talking about it! Let me out!" shrieked Raymond. + +Ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room. + + + + +XIV + +THE HERNE GAME + + +On the morning of the first of June, the day scheduled for the opening +game with Herne, Worry Arthurs had Ken Ward closeted with Homans and +Reddy Ray. Worry was trying his best to be soberly calculating in regard +to the outcome of the game. He was always trying to impress Ken with the +uncertainty of baseball. But a much younger and less observing boy than +Ken could have seen through the coach. Worry was dead sure of the result, +certain that the day would see a great gathering of Wayne students, and +he could not hide his happiness. And the more he betrayed himself the +more he growled at Ken. + +"Well, we ain't goin' to have that balloon-ascension to-day, are we?" +he demanded. "Here we've got down to the big games, and you haven't +been up in the air yet. I tell you it ain't right." + +"But, Worry, I couldn't go off my head and get rattled just to please +you, could I?" implored Ken. To Ken this strain of the coach's had grown +to be as serious as it was funny. + +"Aw! talk sense," said Worry. "Why, you haven't pitched to a college +crowd yet. Wait! Wait till you see that crowd over to Place next week! +Thousands of students crazier 'n Indians, and a flock of girls that'll +make you bite your tongue off. Ten thousand yellin' all at once." + +"Let them yell," replied Ken; "I'm aching to pitch before a crowd. +It has been pretty lonesome at Grant Field all season." + +"Let 'em yell, eh?" retorted Worry. "All right, my boy, it's comin' to +you. And if you lose your nut and get slammed all over the lot, don't +come to me for sympathy." + +"I wouldn't. I can take a licking. Why, Worry, you talk as if--as if I'd +done something terrible. What's the matter with me? I've done every single +thing you wanted--just as well as I could do it. What are you afraid of?" + +"You're gettin' swelled on yourself," said the coach, deliberately. + +The blood rushed to Ken's face until it was scarlet. He was so astounded +and hurt that he could not speak. Worry looked at him once, then turning +hastily away, he walked to the window. + +"Peg, it ain't much wonder," he went on, smoothly, "and I'm not holdin' +it against you. But I want you to forget yourself--" + +"I've never had a thought of myself," retorted Ken, hotly. + +"I want you to go in to-day like--like an automatic machine," went +on Worry, as if Ken had not spoken. "There'll be a crowd out, the +first of the season. Mebbe they'll throw a fit. Anyway, it's our first +big game. As far as the university goes, this is our trial. The students +are up in the air; they don't know what to think. Mebbe there won't be +a cheer at first.... But, Peg, if we beat Herne to-day they'll tear down +the bleachers." + +"Well, all I've got to say is that you can order new lumber for the +bleachers--because we're going to win," replied Ken, with a smouldering +fire in his eyes. + +"There you go again! If you're not stuck on yourself, it's too much +confidence. You won't be so chipper about three this afternoon, mebbe. +Listen! The Herne players got into town last night, and some of them +talked a little. It's just as well you didn't see the morning papers. +It came to me straight that Gallagher, the captain, and Stern, the +first-baseman, said you were pretty good for a kid freshman, but a +little too swelled to stand the gaff in a big game. They expect you +to explode before the third innin'. I wasn't goin' to tell you, Peg, +but you're so--" + +"They said that, did they?" cried Ken. He jumped up with paling cheek +and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under Worry's nose trembled +like a shaking leaf. "What I won't do to them will be funny! Swelled! +Explode! Stand the gaff! Look here, Worry, maybe it's true, but I don't +believe it.... _I'll beat this Herne team!_ Do you get that?" + +"Now you're talkin'," replied Worry, with an entire change of manner. +"You saw the Herne bunch play. They can field, but how about hittin'?" + +"Gallagher, Stern, Hill, and Burr are the veterans of last year's varsity," +went on Ken, rapidly, as one who knew his subject. "They can hit--if they +get what they like." + +"Now you're talkin'. How about Gallagher?" + +"He hits speed. He couldn't hit a slow ball with a paddle." + +"Now you're talkin'. There's Stern, how'd you size him?" + +"He's weak on a low curve, in or out, or a drop." + +"Peg, you're talkin' some now. How about Hill?" + +"Hill is a bunter. A high ball in close, speedy, would tie him in a knot." + +"Come on, hurry! There's Burr." + +"Burr's the best of the lot, a good waiter and hard hitter, but he +invariably hits a high curve up in the air." + +"All right. So far so good. How about the rest of the team?" + +"I'll hand them up a straight, easy ball and let them hit. I tell you +I've got Herne beaten, and if Gallagher or any one else begins to guy +me I'll laugh in his face." + +"Oh, you will?... Say, you go down to your room now, and stay there till +time for lunch. Study or read. Don't think another minute about this game." + +Ken strode soberly out of the room. + +It was well for Ken that he did not see what happened immediately after +his exit. Worry and Homans fell into each other's arms. + +"Say, fellows, how I hated to do it!" Worry choked with laughter and +contrition. "It was the hardest task I ever had. But, Cap, you know we +had to make Peg sore. He's too blamed good-natured. Oh, but didn't he +take fire! He'll make some of those Herne guys play low-bridge to-day. +Wouldn't it be great if he gave Gallagher the laugh?" + +"Worry, don't you worry about that," said Homans. "And it would +please me, too, for Gallagher is about as wordy and pompous as any +captain I've seen." + +"I think you were a little hard on Ken," put in Reddy. His quiet voice +drew Worry and Homans from their elation. "Of course, it was necessary +to rouse Ken's fighting blood, but you didn't choose the right way. +You hurt his feelings. You know, Worry, that the boy is not in the +least swelled." + +"'Course I know it, Reddy. Why, Peg's too modest. But I want him to +be dead in earnest to-day. Mind you, I'm thinkin' of Place. He'll beat +Herne to a standstill. I worked on his feelin's just to get him all +stirred up. You know there's always the chance of rattles in any young +player, especially a pitcher. If he's mad he won't be so likely to get +'em. So I hurt his feelin's. I'll make it up to him, don't you fear +for that, Reddy." + +"I wish you had waited till we go over to Place next week," replied Ray. +"You can't treat him that way twice. Over there's where I would look for +his weakening. But it may be he won't ever weaken. If he ever does it'll +be because of the crowd and not the players." + +"I think so, too. A yellin' mob will be new to Peg. But, fellows, +I'm only askin' one game from Herne and one, or a good close game, +from Place. That'll give Wayne the best record ever made. Look at +our standin' now. Why, the newspapers are havin' a fit. Since I +picked the varsity we haven't lost a game. Think of that! Those +early games don't count. We've had an unbroken string of victories, +Peg pitchin' twelve, and Schoonover four. And if wet grounds and +other things hadn't cancelled other games we'd have won more." + +"Yes, we're in the stretch now, Worry, and running strong. We'll +win three out of these four big games," rejoined Reddy. + +"Oh, say, that'd be too much! I couldn't stand it! Oh, say, Cap, don't +you think Reddy, for once, is talkin' about as swift as he sprints?" + +"I'm afraid to tell you, Worry," replied Homans, earnestly. "When I +look back at our work I can't realize it. But it's time to wake up. +The students over at college are waking up. They will be out to-day. +You are the one to judge whether we're a great team or not. We keep +on making runs. It's runs that count. I think, honestly, Worry, that +after to-day we'll be in the lead for championship honors. And I hold +my breath when I tell you." + +It was remarkably quiet about the training-house all that morning. The +coach sent a light lunch to the boys in their rooms. They had orders to +be dressed, and to report in the reading-room at one-thirty. + +Raymond came down promptly on time. + +"Where's Peg?" asked Worry. + +"Why, I thought he was here, ahead of me," replied Raymond, +in surprise. + +A quick survey of the uniformed players proved the absence of +Ken Ward and Reddy Ray. Worry appeared startled out of speech, +and looked helplessly at Homans. Then Ray came down-stairs, bat +in one hand, shoes and glove in the other. He seated himself upon +the last step and leisurely proceeded to put on his shoes. + +"Reddy, did you see Peg?" asked Worry, anxiously. + +"Sure, I saw him," replied the sprinter. + +"Well?" growled the coach. "Where is he? Sulkin' because I called him?" + +"Not so you'd notice it," answered Reddy, in his slow, careless manner. +"I just woke him up." + +"What!" yelled Arthurs. + +"Peg came to my room after lunch and went to sleep. I woke him just now. +He'll be down in a minute." + +Worry evidently could not reply at the moment, but he began to beam. + +"What would Gallagher say to that?" asked Captain Homans, with a smile. +"Wayne's varsity pitcher asleep before a Herne game! Oh no, I guess +that's not pretty good! Worry, could you ask any more?" + +"Cap, I'll never open my face to him again," blurted out the coach. + +Ken appeared at the head of the stairs and had started down, when the +door-bell rang. Worry opened the door to admit Murray, the trainer; +Dale, the old varsity captain, and the magnificently built Stevens, +guard and captain of the football team. + +"Hello! Worry," called out Murray, cheerily. "How're the kids? Boys, +you look good to me. Trim and fit, and all cool and quiet-like. Reddy, +be careful of your ankles and legs to-day. After the meet next week you +can cut loose and run bases like a blue streak." + +Dale stepped forward, earnest and somewhat concerned, but with a winning +frankness. + +"Worry, will you let Stevens and me sit on the bench with the boys to-day?" + +Worry's face took on the color of a thunder-cloud. "I'm not the captain," +he replied. "Ask Homans." + +"How about it, Roy?" queried Dale. + +Homans was visibly affected by surprise, pleasure, and something more. +While he hesitated, perhaps not trusting himself to reply quickly, +Stevens took a giant stride to the fore. + +"Homans, we've got a hunch that Wayne's going to win," he said, in +a deep-bass voice. "A few of us have been tipped off, and we got it +straight. But the students don't know it yet. So Dale and I thought +we'd like them to see how we feel about it--before this game. You've +had a rotten deal from the students this year. But they'll more than +make it up when you beat Herne. The whole college is waiting and +restless." + +Homans, recovering himself, faced the two captains courteously and +gratefully, and with a certain cool dignity. + +"Thank you, fellows! It's fine of you to offer to sit with us on the +bench. I thank you on behalf of the varsity. But--not to-day. All season +we've worked and fought without support, and now we're going to beat +Herne without support. When we've done that you and Dale--all the +college--can't come too quick to suit us." + +"I think I'd say the same thing, if I were in your place," said Dale. +"And I'll tell you right here that when I was captain I never plugged +any harder to win than I'll plug to-day." + +Then these two famous captains of championship teams turned to Homans' +players and eyed them keenly, their faces working, hands clenched, +their powerful frames vibrating with the feeling of the moment. That +moment was silent, eloquent. It linked Homans' team to the great +athletic fame of the university. It radiated the spirit to conquer, +the glory of past victories, the strength of honorable defeats. Then +Dale and Stevens went out, leaving behind them a charged atmosphere. + +"I ain't got a word to say," announced Worry to the players. + +"And I've very little," added Captain Homans. "We're all on edge, and +being drawn down so fine we may be over-eager. Force that back. It +doesn't matter if we make misplays. We've made many this season, but +we've won all the same. At the bat, remember to keep a sharp eye on +the base-runner, and when he signs he is going down, bunt or hit to +advance him. That's all." + +Ken Ward walked to the field between Worry Arthurs and Reddy Ray. +Worry had no word to say, but he kept a tight grip on Ken's arm. + +"Peg, I've won many a sprint by not underestimating my opponent," +said Reddy, quietly. "Now you go at Herne for all you're worth from +the start." + +When they entered the field there were more spectators in the +stands than had attended all the other games together. In a far +corner the Herne players in dark-blue uniforms were practising +batting. Upon the moment the gong called them in for their turn +at field practice. The Wayne team batted and bunted a few balls, +and then Homans led them to the bench. + +Upon near view the grand-stand and bleachers seemed a strange sight to +Ken Ward. He took one long look at the black-and-white mass of students +behind the back-stop, at the straggling lines leading to the gates, at +the rapidly filling rows to right and left, and then he looked no more. +Already an immense crowd was present. Still it was not a typical college +baseball audience. Ken realized that at once. It was quiet, orderly, +expectant, and watchful. Very few girls were there. The students as a +body had warmed to curiosity and interest, but not to the extent of +bringing the girls. After that one glance Ken resolutely kept his eyes +upon the ground. He was conscious of a feeling that he wanted to spring +up and leap at something. And he brought all his will to force back his +over-eagerness. He heard the crack of the ball, the shouts of the Herne +players, the hum of voices in the grand-stand, and the occasional cheers +of Herne rooters. There were no Wayne cheers. + +"Warm up a little," said Worry, in his ear. + +Ken peeled off his sweater and walked out with Dean. A long +murmur ran throughout the stands. Ken heard many things said +of him, curiously, wonderingly, doubtfully, and he tried not +to hear more. Then he commenced to pitch to Dean. Worry stood +near him and kept whispering to hold in his speed and just to +use his arm easily. It was difficult, for Ken felt that his arm +wanted to be cracked like a buggy-whip. + +"That'll do," whispered Worry. "We're only takin' five minutes' +practice.... Say, but there's a crowd! Are you all right, Peg--cool-like +and determined?... Good! Say--but Peg, you'd better look these fellows +over." + +"I remember them all," replied Ken. "That's Gallagher on the end of +the bench; Burr is third from him; Stern's fussing over the bats, and +there's Hill, the light-headed fellow, looking this way. There's--" + +"That'll do," said Worry. "There goes the gong. It's all off now. +Homans has chosen to take the field. I guess mebbe you won't show +'em how to pitch a new white ball! Get at 'em now!" Then he called +Ken back as if impelled, and whispered to him in a husky voice: +"It's been tough for you and for me. Listen! Here's where it begins +to be sweet." + +Ken trotted out to the box, to the encouraging voices of the infield, +and he even caught Reddy Ray's low, thrilling call from the far outfield. + +"Play!" With the ringing order, which quieted the audience, the umpire +tossed a white ball to Ken. + +For a single instant Ken trembled ever so slightly in all his limbs, +and the stands seemed a revolving black-and-white band. Then the emotion +was as if it had never been. He stepped upon the slab, keen-sighted, +cool, and with his pitching game outlined in his mind. + +Burr, the curly-haired leader of Herne's batting list, took his +position to the left of the plate. Ken threw him an underhand curve, +sweeping high and over the inside corner. Burr hit a lofty fly to +Homans. Hill, the bunter, was next. For him Ken shot one straight +over the plate. Hill let it go by, and it was a strike. Ken put +another in the same place, and Hill, attempting to bunt, fouled +a little fly, which Dean caught. Gallagher strode third to bat. +He used a heavy club, stood right-handed over the plate, and looked +aggressive. Ken gave the captain a long study and then swung slowly, +sending up a ball that floated like a feather. Gallagher missed it. +On the second pitch he swung heavily at a slow curve far off the +outside. For a third Ken tried the speedy drop, and the captain, +letting it go, was out on strikes. + +The sides changed. Worry threw a sweater around Ken. + +"The ice's broke, Peg, and you've got your control. That settles it." + +Homans went up, to a wavering ripple of applause. He drew two balls and +then a strike from Murphy, and hit the next hard into short field. Frick +fumbled the ball, recovered it, and threw beautifully, but too late to +catch Homans. Raymond sacrificed, sending his captain to second. Murphy +could not locate the plate for Reddy Ray and let him get to first on +four balls. Weir came next. Homans signed he was going to run on the +first pitch. Weir, hitting with the runner, sent a double into right +field, and Homans and Ray scored. The bleachers cheered. Homans ran +down to third base to the coaching lines, and Ray went to first base. +Both began to coach the runner. Dean hit into short field, and was +thrown out, while Weir reached third on the play. + +"Two out, now! Hit!" yelled Homans to Blake. + +Blake hit safely over second, scoring Weir. Then Trace flied out to +left field. + +"Three runs!" called Homans. "Boys, that's a start! Three more runs +and this game's ours! Now, Peg, now!" + +Ken did not need that trenchant thrilling _now_. The look in Worry's +eyes had been enough. He threw speed to Halloway, and on the third ball +retired him, Raymond to McCord. Stern came second to bat. In Ken's mind +this player was recorded with a weakness on low curves. And Ken found +it with two balls pitched. Stern popped up to Blake. Frick, a new player +to Ken, let a strike go by, and missed a drop and a fast ball. + +"They can't touch you, Ken," called Raymond, as he tossed aside his glove. + +Faint cheers rose from scattered parts of the grand-stand, and here +and there shouts and yells. The audience appeared to stir, to become +animated, and the Herne players settled down to more sober action on +the field. + +McCord made a bid for a hit, but failed because of fast work by Stern. +Ken went up, eager to get to first in any way. He let Murphy pitch, +and at last, after fouling several good ones, he earned his base on +balls. Once there, he gave Homans the sign that he would run on the +first pitch, and he got a fair start. He heard the crack of the ball +and saw it glinting between short and third. Running hard, he beat the +throw-in to third. With two runners on bases, Raymond hit to deep short. +Ken went out trying to reach home. Again Reddy Ray came up and got a +base on balls, filling the bases. The crowd began to show excitement, +and seemed to be stifling cheers in suspense. Weir hurried to bat, his +shock of hair waving at every step. He swung hard on the first ball, +and, missing it, whirled down, bothering the catcher. Homans raced home +on a half-passed ball. Then Weir went out on a fly to centre. + +"Peg, keep at them!" called Reddy Ray. "We've got Murphy's measure." + +It cost Ken an effort to deliberate in the box, to think before he +pitched. He had to fight his eagerness. But he wasted few balls, and +struck Mercer out. Van Sant hit to Weir, who threw wild to first, +allowing the runner to reach third. Murphy, batting next, hit one +which Ken put straight over the plate, and it went safe through second, +scoring Van Sant. The Herne rooters broke out in loud acclaim. Burr +came up, choking his bat up short. Again Ken gave him the high, wide +curve. He let it pass and the umpire called it a strike. Ken threw +another, a little outside this time. Evidently Burr was trying out +Ken's control. + +"He can't put them over!" yelled Gallagher, from the coaching line. +"Here's where he goes up! Wait him out, Burr. Good eye, old man! +Here's where we explode the freshman!" + +Ken glanced at Gallagher and laughed. Then he sped up another high +curve, which the umpire called a strike. + +"That's the place, Peg! Put another there!" floated from Reddy in +the outfield. + +Burr swung viciously, hitting a bounder toward second base. Raymond +darted over, went down with his bird-like quickness, came up with the +ball, and then he touched the bag and threw to first. It was a play +in which he excelled. The umpire called both runners out, retiring +the side. A short, sharp yell, like a bark, burst from the bleachers. + +Worry was smilingly thoughtful as his boys trotted in to bat. + +"Say, if you get a couple of runs this time we'll be _It_. Look at the +students. Ready to fall out of the stands.... Peg, I'm glad Herne got +a run. Now we won't think of a shut-out. That'll steady us up. And, +boys, break loose now, for the game's ours." + +Dean started off with a clean single. On the first pitch he broke for +second, and had to slide to make it, as Blake missed the strike. Then +Blake went out to first. Trace walked. McCord poked a little fly over +the infield, scoring Dean. Ken fouled out. The unerring Homans again +hit safely, sending Trace in. With two out and McCord on third and +Homans on second, Raymond laid down a beautiful bunt, tallying McCord. +And when the Herne catcher tried to head Homans from making third +Raymond kept on toward second. It was a daring dash, and he dove to +the bag with a long slide, but the decision was against him. + +The coach called Homans, Ward, and Ray to him and gathered them +close together. + +"Boys, listen!" he said, low and tense. "MacNeff and Prince, of Place, +are in the grand-stand just behind the plate. They're up there to get +a line on Peg. We'll fool 'em, and make 'em sick in the bargain. Peg, +you let out this innin' and show up the first three hitters. Then I'll +take you out and let Schoonover finish the game. See?" + +"Take me--out?" echoed Ken. + +"That's it, if you make these next three hitters look like monkeys. +Don't you see? We've got the Herne game cinched. We don't need to use +our star twirler. See? That'll be a bone for Place to chew on. How +about it, Cap? What do you think, Reddy?" + +"Oh, Worry, if we dared to do it!" Homans exclaimed, under his breath. +"Herne would never get over it. And it would scare Place to death.... +But, Worry, Reddy, dare we risk it?" + +"It's playin' into our very hands," replied Worry. His hazel eyes +were afire with inspiration. + +Reddy Ray's lean jaw bulged. + +"Homans, it's the trick, and we can turn it." + +"What's the score--7 to 1?" muttered Homans. It was a tight place +for him, and he seemed tortured between ambition and doubt. + +"That fellow Murphy hasn't got one in my groove yet," said Reddy. +"I'm due to lace one. We're good for more runs." + +That decided Homans. He patted Ken on the shoulder and led him out to +the box, but he never spoke a word. + +Ken felt like a wild colt just let loose. He faced Hill with a smile, +and then, taking his long, overhand swing, he delivered the jump ball. +Hill made no move. The umpire called strike. The crowd roared. Ken +duplicated the feat. Then Hill missed the third strike. Gallagher +walked up doggedly, and Ken smiled at him, too. Then using three +wicked, darting drops, Ken struck Gallagher out. + +"That's twice!" called Reddy's penetrating voice from the outfield. +"Give him a paddle!" + +Halloway drew two balls and then three strikes. + +Ken ran for the bench amid an uproar most strange and startling to his +untried ear. The long, tardy, and stubborn students had broken their +silence. + +Dale leaped out of the grand-stand to lead the cheering. The giant +Stevens came piling out of the bleachers to perform a like office. +And then they were followed by Bryan, captain of the crew, and +Hilbrandt, captain of the track team. Four captains of Wayne teams +inspiriting and directing the cheering! Ken's bewildered ears drank +in one long, thundering "_Ward! Ward! Ward!_" and then his hearing +seemed drowned. The whole mass of students and spectators rose as +one, and the deafening stamp of feet only equalled the roar of voices. +But now the volume of sound was regular and rhythmic. It was like the +approach of a terrible army. For minutes, while the umpire held play +suspended, the Wayne supporters in hoarse and stamping tumult came +into their own again. It was a wild burst of applause, and as it had +been long delayed, so now it was prolonged fiercely to the limit of +endurance. + +When those waves of sound had rolled away Ken Ward felt a difference +in Grant Field, in the varsity, in himself. A different color shone +from the sky. + +Ken saw Reddy Ray go to bat and drive the ball against the right-field +fence. Then as the sprinter got into his wonderful stride once more the +whole audience rose in yelling, crashing clamor. And when on Weir's fly +to the outfield Reddy raced in to the plate, making the throw-in look +feeble, again the din was terrific. + +As one in a glorious dream, Ken Ward crouched upon the bench and watched +the remainder of that game. He grasped it all as if baseball was all that +made life worth living, and as if every moment was his last. He never +thought of himself. He was only a part of the team, and that team, +every moment, grew sharper, faster, fiercer. He revelled in the game. +Schoonover was hit hard, but fast play by Raymond and Weir kept Herne's +score down. The little second-baseman was here, there, everywhere, like +a glint of light. Herne made runs, but Wayne also kept adding runs. +Blake caught a foul fly off the bleachers; Trace made a beautiful catch; +McCord was like a tower at first base, and little Dean went through the +last stages of development that made him a star. + +Once in the eighth inning Ken became aware that Worry was punching +him in the back and muttering: + +"Look out, Peg! Listen! Murphy'll get one in Reddy's groove this +time.... Oh-h!" + +The crack of the ball, as well as Worry's yell, told Ken what had +happened. Besides, he could see, and as the ball lined away for the +fence, and the sprinter leaped into action, Ken jumped up and screamed: + +"Oh, Reddy, it's over--over! No! Run! Run! Oh-h-h!" + +In the shrill, piercing strife of sound Ken's scream seemed only a +breath at his ears. He held to it, almost splitting his throat, while +the sprinter twinkled round third base and came home like a thunderbolt. + +Another inning passed, a confusion of hits, throws, runs, and plays +to Ken, and then Worry was pounding him again. + +"Dig for the trainin'-house!" yelled Worry, mouth on his ear. +"The students are crazy! They'll eat us alive! They're tearin' +the bleachers down! Run for it, Peg!" + + + + +XV + +A MATTER OF PRINCIPLE + + +Ken found himself running across Grant Field, pursued by a happy, +roaring mob of students. They might have been Indians, judging from +the way Ken and his fellow-players fled before them. The trained +athletes distanced their well-meaning but violent pursuers and gained +the gate, but it was a close shave. The boys bounded up the street +into the training-house and locked the door till the puffing Arthurs +arrived. They let him in and locked the door again. + +In another moment the street resounded with the rush of many feet +and the yells of frantic students. Murray, the trainer, forced a way +through the crowd and up the stoop. He closed and barred the outside +door, and then pounded upon the inside door for admittance. Worry +let him in. + +"They'd make a bowl-fight or a football rush look tame," panted Murray. +"Hey! Scotty--lock up tight down in the basement. For Heaven's sake +don't let that push get in on us! Lock the windows in the front." + +"Who's that poundin' on the door?" yelled Worry. He had to yell, +for the swelling racket outside made ordinary conversation impossible. + +"Don't open it!" shouted Murray. "What do we care for team-captains, +college professors, athletic directors, or students? They're all out +there, and they're crazy, I tell you. I never saw the like. It'd be +more than I want to get in that jam. And it'd never do for the varsity. +Somebody would get crippled sure. I'm training this baseball team." + +Murray, in his zealous care of his athletes, was somewhat overshooting +the mark, for not one of the boys had the slightest desire to be trusted +to the mob outside. In fact, Ken looked dazed, and Raymond scared to the +point of trembling; Trace was pale; and all the others, except Homans +and Reddy Ray, showed perturbation. Nor were the captain and sprinter +deaf to the purport of that hour; only in their faces shone a kindling +glow and flush. + +By-and-by the boys slipped to their rooms, removed their uniforms, +dressed and crept down-stairs like burglars and went in to dinner. +Outside the uproar, instead of abating, gathered strength as time +went by. At the dinner-table the boys had to yell in each other's +ears. They had to force what they ate. No one was hungry. When Worry +rose from the table they all flocked after him. + +It was growing dark outside, and a red glow, brightening upon +the windows, showed the students had lighted bonfires. + +"They're goin' to make a night of it," yelled Worry. + +"How'll my boys be able to sleep?" shouted Murray. Both coach +and trainer were as excited as any of the boys. + +"The street's packed solid. Listen!" + +The tramp, tramp, tramp of thousands of feet keeping time was like the +heavy tread of a marching multitude. Then the tramp died away in a +piercing cheer, "_Wayne!_" nine times, clear and sustained--a long, +beautiful college cheer. In the breathing spell that followed, the +steady tramp of feet went on. One by one, at intervals, the university +yells were given, the broken rattling rally, the floating melodious +crew cheer, and the hoarse, smashing boom of football. Then again +the inspiriting "_Wayne!_" nine times. After that came shrill calls +for the varsity, for Homans, Reddy Ray, Raymond, and Peggie Ward. + +"Come up-stairs to the windows, boys!" shouted Worry. "We've got +to show ourselves." + +Worry threw up the windows in Weir's room, and the boys gingerly poked +their heads out. A roar greeted their appearance. The heads all popped +in as if they had been struck. + +"Homans, you'll have to make a speech," cried the coach. + +"I will not!" + +"You've got to say somethin'. We can't have this crazy gang out here +all night." + +Then Worry and Murray coaxed and led Homans to the window. The captain +leaned out and said something that was unintelligible in the hubbub +without. The crowd cheered him and called for Reddy, Ward, and Raymond. +Worry grasped the second-baseman and shoved him half over the sill. +Raymond would have fallen out but for the coach's strong hold. + +"Come on, Peg!" yelled Worry. + +"Not on your life!" cried Ken, in affright. He ran away from the +coach, and dived under the bed. But Reddy Ray dragged him out and +to the window, and held him up in the bright bonfire glare. Then he +lifted a hand to silence the roaring crowd. + +"Fellows, here he is--Worry's demon, Wayne's pitcher!" called Reddy, +in ringing, far-reaching voice. "Listen! Peggie didn't lose his nerve +when he faced Herne to-day, but he's lost it now. He's lost his voice, +too. But he says for you to go away and save your cheers for this day +two weeks, when we meet Place. Then, he says, you'll have something +to cheer for!" + +The crafty sprinter knew how to appeal to the students. All of voice +and strength and enthusiasm left in them went up in a mighty bawl +that rattled the windows and shook the house. They finished with +nine "_Waynes!_" and a long, rousing "_Peggie Ward!_" and then they +went away. + +"By George! look here, Peg," said Reddy, earnestly, "they gave you +Wayne's Nine! _Wayne's Nine!_ Do you hear? I never knew a freshman +varsity man to get that cheer." + +"You've got to beat Place now, after tellin' 'em you'd do it," +added Worry. + +"But, Worry, I didn't say a word--it was Reddy," replied Ken, +in distress. + +"Same thing," rejoined the coach. "Now, boys, let's quiet down and +talk over the game. I won't waste any time jollyin' you. I couldn't +praise you enough if I spent the rest of the season tryin' to. One +and all, by yourselves and in a bunch, you played Herne off their +feet. I'll bet MacNeff and Prince are dizzy figurin' what'll happen +Saturday week. As to the score, why, scores don't mean much to us--" + +"What was the score, anyway?" asked Ken. + +The boys greeted this with shouts of doubtful laughter, and Worry +glanced with disapproval at his star. + +"Peg, you keep me guessin' a lot. But not to know how much we beat +Herne would be more 'n I could stand. On the level, now, don't you +know the score?" + +"Fair and square, I don't, Worry. You never would let me think of +how many runs we had or needed. I can count seven--yes, and one more, +that was Reddy's home-run." + +"Peg, you must have been up in the air a little; 14 to 4, that's it. +And we didn't take our bat in the last of the ninth." + +Then followed Worry's critical account of the game, and a discussion +in which the boys went over certain plays. During the evening many +visitors called, but did not gain admission. The next morning, however, +Worry himself brought in the newspapers, which heretofore he had +forbidden the players to read, and he told them they were now free +to have any callers or to go where they liked. There was a merry +scramble for the papers, and presently the reading-room was as quiet +as a church. + +The account that held Ken Ward in rapt perusal was the _Morning +Times-Star's_. At first the print blurred in Ken's sight. Then he +read it over again. He liked the glowing praise given the team, +and was shamefully conscious of the delight in his name in large +letters. A third time he read it, guiltily this time, for he did +not dream that his comrades were engrossed in like indulgence. + + + WAYNE OUTCLASSES HERNE + + ARTHURS DEVELOPS ANOTHER GREAT TEAM. + PEGGIE WARD AND REDDY RAY STARS. + + Wayne defeated Herne yesterday 14 to 4, and thereby + leaped into the limelight. It was a surprise to + every one, Herne most of all. Owing to the stringent + eligibility rules now in force at Wayne, and the + barring of the old varsity, nothing was expected of + this season's team. Arthurs, the famous coach, has + built a wonderful nine out of green material, and + again establishes the advisability of professional + coaches for the big universities. + + With one or two exceptions Wayne's varsity is made + up of players developed this year. Homans, the + captain, was well known about town as an amateur + player of ability. But Arthurs has made him into + a great field captain and a base-getter of remarkable + skill. An unofficial computing gives him the batting + average of .536. No captain or any other player of + any big college team in the East ever approached + such percentage as that. It is so high that it must + be a mistake. + + Reddy Ray, the intercollegiate champion in the sprints, + is the other seasoned player of the varsity, and it is + safe to say that he is the star of all the college + teams. A wonderful fielder, a sure and heavy hitter, + and like a flash on the bases, he alone makes Homans' + team formidable. + + Then there is Peg Ward, Worry Arthurs' demon pitcher, + of freshman bowl-fight fame. This lad has been arriving + since spring, and now he has arrived. He is powerful, + and has a great arm. He seems to pitch without effort, + has twice the speed of Dale, and is as cool in the box + as a veteran. But it is his marvellous control of the + ball that puts him in a class by himself. In the fourth + inning of yesterday's game he extended himself, probably + on orders from Coach Arthurs, and struck out Herne's + three best hitters on eleven pitched balls. Then he + was taken out and Schoonover put in. This white-headed + lad is no slouch of a pitcher, by-the-way. But it must + have been a bitter pill for Herne to swallow. The proud + Herne varsity have been used to knocking pitchers out + of the box, instead of seeing them removed because + they were too good. Also, MacNeff and Prince, of Place, + who saw the game, must have had food for reflection. + They did not get much of a line on young Ward, and + what they saw will not give them pleasant dreams. + We pick Ward to beat the heavy-hitting Place team. + + Other youngsters of Arthurs' nine show up well, + particularly Raymond and Weir, who have springs in + their feet and arms like whips. Altogether Arthurs' + varsity is a strangely assorted, a wonderfully chosen + group of players. We might liken them to the mechanism + of a fine watch, with Ward as the mainspring, and + the others with big or little parts to perform, but + each dependent upon the other. Wayne's greatest + baseball team! + + +Ken read it all thirstily, wonderingly, and recorded it deep in the +deepest well of his memory. It seemed a hundred times as sweet for all +the misery and longing and fear and toil which it had cost to gain. + +And each succeeding day grew fuller and richer with its meed of reward. +All the boys of the varsity were sought by the students, Ken most of all. +Everywhere he went he was greeted with a regard that made him still more +bashful and ashamed. If he stepped into Carlton Club, it was to be +surrounded by a frankly admiring circle of students. He could not get +a moment alone in the library. Professors had a smile for him and often +stopped to chat. The proudest moment of his college year was when +President Halstead met him in the promenade, and before hundreds of +students turned to walk a little way with him. There seemed not to be +a single student of the university or any one connected with it, who did +not recognize him. Bryan took him to watch the crew practise; Stevens +played billiards with him at the club; Dale openly sought his society. +Then the fraternities began to vie with one another for Ken. In all his +life he had not imagined a fellow could be treated so well. It was an +open secret that Ken Ward was extremely desired in the best fraternities. +He could not have counted his friends. Through it all, by thinking of +Worry and the big games coming, he managed to stay on his feet. + +One morning, when he was at the height of this enjoyable popularity, +he read a baseball note that set him to thinking hard. The newspaper, +commenting on the splendid results following Wayne's new athletic +rules, interpreted one rule in a way astounding to Ken. It was +something to the effect that all players who had been _on_ a team +which paid any player or any expenses of any player were therefore +ineligible. Interpretation of the rules had never been of any serious +moment to Ken. He had never played on any but boy teams. But suddenly +he remembered that during a visit to the mountains with his mother he +had gone to a place called Eagle's Nest, a summer hotel colony. It +boasted of a good ball team and had a rival in the Glenwoods, a team +from an adjoining resort. Ken had been in the habit of chasing flies +for the players in practice. One day Eagle's Nest journeyed over to +Glenwood to play, and being short one player they took Ken to fill in. +He had scarcely started in the game when the regular player appeared, +thus relieving him. The incident had completely slipped Ken's mind +until recalled by the newspaper note. + +Whereupon Ken began to ponder. He scouted the idea of that innocent +little thing endangering his eligibility at Wayne. But the rule, +thus made clear, stood out in startlingly black-and-white relief. +Eagle's Nest supported a team by subscription among the hotel guests. +Ken had ridden ten miles in a 'bus with the team, and had worn one +of the uniforms for some few minutes. Therefore, upon a technicality, +perhaps, he had been _on_ a summer nine, and had no right to play for +Wayne. + +Ken went to Homans and told him the circumstance. The captain looked +exceedingly grave, then getting more particulars he relaxed. + +"You're safe, Peg. You're perfectly innocent. But don't mention it to +any one else, especially Worry. He'd have a fit. What a scare you'd +throw into the varsity camp! Forget the few minutes you wore that +Eagle's Nest suit." + +For the time being this reassured Ken, but after a while his anxiety +returned. Homans had said not to mention it, and that bothered Ken. +He lay awake half of one night thinking about the thing. It angered +him and pricked his conscience and roused him. He wanted to feel +absolutely sure of his position, for his own sake first of all. +So next morning he cornered Worry and blurted out the secret. + +"Peg, what're you givin' me!" he ejaculated. + +Ken repeated his story, somewhat more clearly and at greater length. +Worry turned as white as a ghost. + +"Good gracious, Peg, you haven't told anybody?" + +"No one but Homans." + +Worry gave a long sigh of relief, and his face regained some of its +usual florid color. + +"Well, that's all right then.... Say, didn't I tell you once that I +had a weak heart? Peg, of course you're an amateur, or there never was +one. But 'em fat-head directors! Why, I wouldn't have 'em find that +out for a million dollars. They're idiots enough to make a shinin' +example of you right before the Place games. Keep it under your +hat, see!" + +This last was in the nature of a command, and Ken had always +religiously obeyed Worry. He went to his room feeling that the +matter had been decided for him. Relief, however, did not long +abide with him. He began to be torn between loyalty to Worry and +duty to himself. He felt guiltless, but he was not sure of it, +and until he was sure he could not be free in mind. Suddenly he +thought of being actually barred from the varsity, and was miserable. +That he could not bear. Strong temptation now assailed Ken and found +him weak. A hundred times he reconciled himself to Worry's command, +to Homan's point of view, yet every time something rose within him and +rebelled. But despite the rebellion Ken almost gave in. He fought off +thought of his new sweet popularity, of the glory of being Wayne's +athletic star. He fought to look the thing fairly in the face. To him +it loomed up a hundredfold larger than an incident of his baseball +career. And so he got strength to do the thing that would ease the +voice of conscience. He went straight to the coach. + +"Worry, I've got to go to the directors and tell them. I--I'm sorry, +but I've got to do it." + +He expected a storm of rage from Worry, but never had the coach been +so suave, so kindly, so magnetic. He called Homans and Raymond and +Weir and others who were in the house at the moment and stated Ken's +case. His speech flowed smooth and rapid. The matter under his deft +argument lost serious proportions. But it seemed to Ken that Worry +did not tell the boys the whole truth, or they would not have laughed +at the thing and made him out over-sensitive. And Ken was now growing +too discouraged and bewildered to tell them. Moreover, he was getting +stubborn. The thing was far from a joke. The cunning of the coach +proved that. Worry wound the boys round his little finger. + +At this juncture Reddy Ray entered the training-house. + +More than once Ken had gone to the great sprinter with confidences +and troubles, and now he began impulsively, hurriedly, incoherently, +to tell the story. + +"And Reddy," concluded Ken, "I've got to tell the directors. It's +something--hard for me to explain. I couldn't pitch another game +with this hanging over me. I must--tell them--and take my medicine." + +"Sure. It's a matter of principle," replied Reddy, in his soft, slow +voice. His keen eyes left Ken's pale face and met the coach's. "Worry, +I'll take Peg up to see the athletic faculty. I know Andrews, the +president, and he's the one to hear Peg's story." + +Worry groaned and sank into a chair crushed and beaten. Then he swore, +something unusual in him. Then he began to rave at the fat-headed +directors. Then he yelled that he would never coach another ball team +so long as he lived. + +Ken followed Reddy out of the training-house and along the street. +The fact that the sprinter did not say a word showed Ken he was +understood, and he felt immeasurably grateful. They crossed the +campus and entered College Hall, to climb the winding stairway. +To Ken that was a long, hateful climb. Andrews, and another of the +directors whom Ken knew by sight, were in the office. They greeted +the visitors with cordial warmth. + +"Gentlemen," began Reddy, "Ward thinks he has violated one of the +eligibility rules." + +There was no beating about the bush with Reddy Ray, no shading of fact, +no distortion of the truth. Coolly he stated the case. But, strangely +to Ken, the very truth, told by Reddy in this way, somehow lost its +terrors. Ken's shoulders seemed unburdened of a terrible weight. + +Andrews and his colleague laughed heartily. + +"You see--I--I forgot all about it," said Ken. + +"Yes, and since he remembered he's been worrying himself sick," +resumed Reddy. "Couldn't rest till he'd come over here." + +"Ward, it's much to your credit that you should confide something +there was never any chance of becoming known," said the president +of the athletic faculty. "We appreciate it. You may relieve your +mind of misgivings as to your eligibility. Even if we tried I doubt +if we could twist a rule to affect your standing. And you may rest +assured we wouldn't try in the case of so fine a young fellow and +so splendid a pitcher for Wayne." + +Then Andrews courteously shook hands with Ken and Reddy and bowed +them out. Ken danced half-way down the stairway and slid the rest +on the bannister. + +"Reddy, wasn't he just fine?" cried Ken, all palpitating with joy. + +"Well, Peg, Andrews is a nice old thing if you approach him right," +replied Reddy, dryly. "You wouldn't believe me, would you, if I said +I had my heart in my throat when we went in?" + +"No, I wouldn't," replied Ken, bluntly. + +"I thought not," said Reddy. Then the gravity that had suddenly +perplexed Ken cleared from the sprinter's face. "Peg, let's have +some fun with Worry and the boys." + +"I'm in for anything now." + +"We'll go back to the training-house with long faces. When we get in +you run up-stairs as if you couldn't face any one, but be sure to sneak +back to the head of the stairs to see and hear the fun. I'll fix Worry +all right. Now, don't flunk. It's a chance." + +Ken could not manage to keep a straight face as they went in, so he hid +it and rushed up-stairs. He bumped into Raymond, knocking him flat. + +"Running to a fire again?" growled Raymond. "Got a fire-medal, haven't +you? Always falling over people." + +Ken tried to simulate ungovernable rage and impotent distress at once. +He waved one fist and tore his hair with the other hand. + +"Get out of my way!" roared Ken. "What'll you say when I tell you I'm +barred from the varsity!" + +"Oh! Ken! No, no--don't say it," faltered Raymond, all sympathy in +an instant. + +Ken ran into his room, closed the door and then peeped out. He saw +Raymond slowly sag down-stairs as if his heart was broken. Then Ken +slipped out and crawled down the hall till he could see into the +reading-room. All the boys were there, with anxious faces, crowded +round the coach. Worry was livid. Reddy Ray seemed the only calm +person in the room and he had tragedy written all over him. + +"Out with it!" shouted Worry. "Don't stand there like a mournful +preacher. What did 'em fat-heads say?" + +Reddy threw up his hands with a significant gesture. + +"I knew it!" howled Worry, jumping up and down. "I knew it! Why did +you take the kid over there? Why didn't you let me and Homans handle +this thing? You red-headed, iron-jawed, cold-blooded wind-chaser! +You've done it now, haven't you? I--Oh--" + +Worry began to flounder helplessly. + +"They said a few more things," went on Reddy. "Peg is barred, Raymond +is barred, I am barred. I told them about my baseball career out West. +The directors said some pretty plain things about you, Worry, I'm sorry +to tell. You're a rotten coach. In fact, you ought to be a coach at an +undertaker's. Homans gets the credit for the work of the team. They +claim you are too hard on the boys, too exacting, too brutal, in fact. +Andrews recited a record of your taking sandwiches from us and aiding +and abetting Murray in our slow starvation. The directors will favor +your dismissal and urge the appointment of Professor Rhodes, who as +coach will at least feed us properly." + +Reddy stopped to catch his breath and gain time for more invention. Of +all the unhappy mortals on earth Worry Arthurs looked the unhappiest. +He believed every word as if it had been gospel. And that about Professor +Rhodes was the last straw. + +Ken could stand the deception no longer. He marvelled at Reddy's +consummate lying and how he could ever stand that look on Worry's +face. Bounding down-stairs four steps at a jump, Ken burst like a +bomb upon the sad-faced group. + +"Oh, Worry, it's all a joke!" + + + + +XVI + +THE FIRST PLACE GAME + + +Rain prevented the second Herne game, which was to have been played +on the Herne grounds. It rained steadily all day Friday and Saturday, +to the disappointment of Wayne's varsity. The coach, however, admitted +that he was satisfied to see the second contest with Herne go by the +board. + +"I don't like big games away from home," said Worry. "It's hard on new +teams. Besides, we beat Herne to death over here. Mebbe we couldn't do +it over there, though I ain't doubtin'. But it's Place we're after, and +if we'd had that game at Herne we couldn't have kept Place from gettin' +a line on us. So I'm glad it rained." + +The two Place games fell during a busy week at Wayne. Wednesday was the +beginning of the commencement exercises and only a comparatively few +students could make the trip to Place. But the night before the team +left, the students, four thousand strong, went to the training-house +and filled a half-hour with college songs and cheers. + +Next morning Dale and Stevens, heading a small band of Wayne athletes +and graduates, met the team at the railroad station and boarded the +train with them. Worry and Homans welcomed them, and soon every Wayne +player had two or more for company. Either by accident or design, Ken +could not tell which, Dale and Stevens singled him out for their especial +charge. The football captain filled one seat with his huge bulk and faced +Ken, and Dale sat with a hand on Ken's shoulder. + +"Peg, we're backing you for all we're worth," said Stevens. "But this is +your first big game away from home. It's really the toughest game of the +season. Place is a hard nut to crack any time. And her players on their +own backyard are scrappers who can take a lot of beating and still win +out. Then there's another thing that's no small factor in their strength: +They are idolized by the students, and rooting at Place is a science. They +have a yell that beats anything you ever heard. It'll paralyze a fellow +at a critical stage. But that yell is peculiar in that it rises out of +circumstances leading to almost certain victory. That is, Place has to +make a strong bid for a close, hard game to work up that yell. So if it +comes to-day you be ready for it. Have your ears stuffed with cotton, +and don't let that yell blow you up in the air." + +Dale was even more earnest than Stevens. + +"Peg, Place beat me over here last year, beat me 6-3. They hit me harder +than I ever was hit before, I guess. You went down to Washington, Worry +said, to look them over. Tell me what you think--how you sized them up." + +Dale listened attentively while Ken recited his impressions. + +"You've got Prince and MacNeff figured exactly right," replied Dale. +"Prince is the football captain, by-the-way. Be careful how you run +into second base. If you ever slide into him head first--good-bye! +He's a great player, and he can hit any kind of a ball. MacNeff now, +just as you said, is weak on a high ball close in, and he kills a low +ball. Kills is the word! He hits them a mile. But, Peg, I think you're +a little off on Keene, Starke, and Martin, the other Place cracks. They're +veterans, hard to pitch to; they make you cut the plate; they are as apt +to bunt as hit, and they are fast. They keep a fellow guessing. I think +Starke pulls a little on a curve, but the others have no weakness I ever +discovered. But, Peg, I expect you to do more with them than I did. My +control was never any too good, and you can throw almost as straight as +a fellow could shoot a rifle. Then your high fast ball, that one you +get with the long swing, it would beat any team. Only I'm wondering, +I'm asking--can you use it right along, in the face of such coaching +and yelling and hitting as you'll run against to-day? I'm asking +deliberately, because I want to give you confidence." + +"Why, yes, Dale, I think I can. I'm pretty sure of it. That ball comes +easily, only a little longer swing and more snap, and honestly, Dale, +I hardly ever think about the plate. I know where it is, and I could +shut my eyes and throw strikes." + +"Peg, you're a wonder," replied Dale, warmly. "If you can do that--and +hang me if I doubt it--you will make Place look like a lot of dubs. We're +sure to make a few runs. Homans and Ray will hit Salisbury hard. There's +no fence on Place Field, and every ball Reddy hits past a fielder will +be a home-run. You can gamble on that. So set a fast clip when you start +in, and hang." + +Some time later, when Ken had changed seats and was talking to Raymond, +he heard Worry say to somebody: + +"Well, if Peg don't explode to-day he never will. I almost wish he would. +He'd be better for it, afterward." + +This surprised Ken, annoyed him, and straightway he became thoughtful. +Why this persistent harping on the chance of his getting excited from +one cause or another, losing his control and thereby the game? Ken had +not felt in the least nervous about the game. He would get so, presently, +if his advisers did not stop hinting. Then Worry's wish that he might +"explode" was puzzling. A little shade of gloom crept over the bright +horizon of Ken's hopes. Almost unconsciously vague doubts of himself +fastened upon him. For the first time he found himself looking forward +to a baseball game with less eagerness than uncertainty. Stubbornly he +fought off the mood. + +Place was situated in an old college town famed for its ancient trees +and quaint churches and inns. The Wayne varsity, arriving late, put on +their uniforms at the St. George, a tavern that seemed never to have +been in any way acquainted with a college baseball team. It was very +quiet and apparently deserted. For that matter the town itself appeared +deserted. The boys dressed hurriedly, in silence, with frowning brows +and compressed lips. Worry Arthurs remained down-stairs while they +dressed. Homans looked the team over and then said: + +"Boys, come on! To-day's our hardest game." + +It was only a short walk along the shady street to the outskirts of +the town and the athletic field. The huge stands blocked the view +from the back and side. Homans led the team under the bleachers, +through a narrow walled-in aisle, to the side entrance, and there +gave the word for the varsity to run out upon the field. A hearty +roar of applause greeted their appearance. + +Ken saw a beautiful green field, level as a floor, with a great +half-circle of stands and bleachers at one end. One glance was +sufficient to make Ken's breathing an effort. He saw a glittering +mass, a broad, moving band of color. Everywhere waved Place flags, +bright gold and blue. White faces gleamed like daisies on a golden +slope. In the bleachers close to the first base massed a shirt-sleeved +crowd of students, row on row of them, thousands in number. Ken +experienced a little chill as he attached the famous Place yell to +that significant placing of rooters. A soft breeze blew across the +field, and it carried low laughter and voices of girls, a merry hum, +and subdued murmur, and an occasional clear shout. The whole field +seemed keenly alive. + +From the bench Ken turned curious, eager eyes upon the practising +Place men. Never had he regarded players with as sharp an interest, +curiosity being mingled with admiration, and confidence with doubt. +MacNeff, the captain, at first base, veteran of three years, was a +tall, powerful fellow, bold and decisive in action. Prince, Place's +star on both gridiron and diamond, played at second base. He was very +short, broad and heavy, and looked as if he would have made three of +little Raymond. Martin, at short-stop, was of slim, muscular build. +Keene and Starke, in centre and left, were big men. Salisbury looked +all of six feet, and every inch a pitcher. He also played end on the +football varsity. Ken had to indulge in a laugh at the contrast in +height and weight of Wayne when compared to Place. The laugh was good +for him, because it seemed to loosen something hard and tight within +his breast. Besides, Worry saw him laugh and looked pleased, and that +pleased Ken. + +"Husky lot of stiffs, eh, Peg?" said Worry, reading Ken's thought. +"But, say! this ain't no football game. We'll make these heavyweights +look like ice-wagons. I never was much on beefy ball-players. Aha! +there goes the gong. Place's takin' the field. That suits me.... Peg, +listen! The game's on. I've only one word to say to you. _Try to keep +solid on your feet!_" + +A short cheer, electrifying in its force, pealed out like a blast. + +Then Homans stepped to the plate amid generous hand-clapping. The Place +adherents had their favorites, but they always showed a sportsmanlike +appreciation of opponents. Salisbury wound up, took an enormous stride, +and pitched the ball. He had speed. Homans seldom hit on the first +pitch, and this was a strike. But he rapped the next like a bullet at +Griffith, the third-baseman. Griffith blocked the ball, and, quickly +reaching it, he used a snap underhand throw to first, catching Homans +by a narrow margin. It was a fine play and the crowd let out another +blast. + +Raymond, coming up, began his old trick of trying to work the +pitcher for a base. He was small and he crouched down until a wag +in the bleachers yelled that this was no kindergarten game. Raymond +was exceedingly hard to pitch to. He was always edging over the plate, +trying to get hit. If anybody touched him in practice he would roar +like a mad bull, but in a game he would cheerfully have stopped +cannon-balls. He got in front of Salisbury's third pitch, and, +dropping his bat, started for first base. The umpire called him +back. Thereupon Raymond fouled balls and went through contortions +at the plate till he was out on strikes. + +When Reddy Ray took his position at bat audible remarks passed like +a wave through the audience. Then a long, hearty cheer greeted the +great sprinter. When roar once again subsided into waiting suspense +a strong-lunged Wayne rooter yelled, "_Watch him run!_" + +The outfielders edged out deeper and deeper. MacNeff called low to +Salisbury: "Don't let this fellow walk! Keep them high and make him +hit!" It was evident that Place had gotten a line on one Wayne player. + +Salisbury delivered the ball and Reddy whirled with his level swing. +There was a sharp crack. + +Up started the crowd with sudden explosive: "Oh!" + +Straight as a bee-line the ball sped to Keene in deep centre, and +Reddy was out. + +Wayne players went running out and Place players came trotting in. Ken, +however, at Worry's order, walked slowly and leisurely to the pitcher's +box. He received an ovation from the audience that completely surprised +him and which stirred him to warm gratefulness. Then, receiving the ball, +he drew one quick breath, and faced the stern issue of the day. + +As always, he had his pitching plan clearly defined in mind, and no +little part of it was cool deliberation, study of the batter to the +point of irritating him, and then boldness of action. He had learned +that he was not afraid to put the ball over the plate, and the knowledge +had made him bold, and boldness increased his effectiveness. + +For Keene, first batter up, Ken pitched his fast ball with all his +power. Like a glancing streak it shot over. A low whistling ran through +the bleachers. For the second pitch Ken took the same long motion, +ending in the sudden swing, but this time he threw a slow, wide, +tantalizing curve that floated and waved and circled around across +the plate. It also was a strike. Keene had not offered to hit either. +In those two balls, perfectly controlled, Ken deliberately showed the +Place team the wide extremes of his pitching game. + +"Keene, he don't waste any. Hit!" ordered MacNeff from the bench. +The next ball, a high curve, Keene hit on the fly to Homans. + +The flaxen-haired Prince trotted up with little, short steps. Ken did +not need the wild outburst from the crowd to appreciate this sturdy +hero of many gridiron and diamond battles. He was so enormously wide, +almost as wide as he was long, that he would have been funny to Ken but +for the reputation that went with the great shoulders and stumpy legs. + +"Ward, give me a good one," said Prince, in a low, pleasant voice. +He handled his heavy bat as if it had been light as a yardstick. + +It was with more boldness than intention of gratifying Prince that +Ken complied, using the same kind of ball he had tried first on Keene. +Prince missed it. The next, a low curve, he cracked hard to the left +of Raymond. The second-baseman darted over, fielded the ball cleanly, +and threw Prince out. + +Then the long, rangy MacNeff, home-run hitter for Place, faced Ken. +His position at bat bothered Ken, for he stood almost on the plate. +Remembering MacNeff's weakness, Ken lost no time putting a swift +in-shoot under his chin. The Place captain lunged round at it, +grunting with his swing. If he had hit the ball it would have been +with the handle of his bat. So Ken, knowing his control, and sure +that he could pitch high shoots all day over the incomer of the plate, +had no more fear of the Place slugger. And it took only three more +pitches to strike him out. + +From that on the game see-sawed inning by inning, Ken outpitching +Salisbury, but neither team scored. At intervals cheers marked the +good plays of both teams, and time and again the work of the pitchers +earned applause. The crowd seemed to be holding back, and while they +waited for the unexpected the short, sharp innings slipped by. + +Trace for Wayne led off in the seventh with a safe fly over short. Ken, +attempting to sacrifice, rolled a little bunt down the third-base line +and beat the throw. With no one out and the head of the batting list up, +the Wayne players awoke to possibilities. The same fiery intensity that +had characterized their play all season now manifested itself. They were +all on their feet, and Weir and McCord on the coaching lines were yelling +hoarsely at Salisbury, tearing up the grass with their spikes, dashing +to and fro, shouting advice to the runners. + +"Here's where we score! Oh! you pitcher! We're due to trim you now! +Steady, boys, play it safe, play it safe!--don't let them double you!" + +Up by the bench Homans was selecting a bat. + +"Worry, I'd better dump one," he whispered. + +"That's the trick," replied the coach. "Advance them at any cost. +There's Reddy to follow." + +The reliable Salisbury rolled the ball in his hands, feinted to throw +to the bases, and showed his steadiness under fire. He put one square +over for Homans and followed it upon the run. Homans made a perfect +bunt, but instead of going along either base line, it went straight +into the pitcher's hands. Salisbury whirled and threw to Prince, who +covered the bag, and forced Trace. One out and still two runners on +bases. The crowd uttered a yell and then quickly quieted down. Raymond +bent low over the plate and watched Salisbury's slightest move. He +bunted the first ball, and it went foul over the third-base line. +He twisted the second toward first base, and it, too, rolled foul. +And still he bent low as if to bunt again. The infield slowly edged +in closer. But Raymond straightened up on Salisbury's next pitch and +lined the ball out. Prince leaped into the air and caught the ball in +his gloved hand. Homans dove back into first base; likewise Ken into +second, just making it in the nick of time, for Martin was on the run +to complete a possible double play. A shout at once hoarse and shrill +went up, and heavy clattering thunder rolled along the floor of the +bleachers. Two out and still two men on bases. + +If there was a calm person on Place Field at that moment it was Reddy +Ray, but his eyes glinted like sparks as he glanced at the coach. + +"Worry, I'll lace one this time," he said, and strode for the plate. + +Weir and McCord were shrieking: "Oh, look who's up! Oh-h! Oh-h! +Play it safe, boys!" + +"_Watch him run!_" + +That came from the same deep-chested individual who had before hinted +of the sprinter's fleetness, and this time the Wayne players recognized +the voice of Murray. How hopeful and thrilling the suggestion was, +coming from him! + +The Place infield trotted to deep short-field; the outfielders moved +out and swung around far to the right. Salisbury settled down in the +box and appeared to put on extra effort as he delivered the ball. It +was wide. The next also went off the outside of the plate. It looked +as if Salisbury meant to pass Reddy to first. Then those on the bench +saw a glance and a nod pass between Reddy Ray and Coach Arthurs. Again +Salisbury pitched somewhat to the outside of the plate, but this time +Reddy stepped forward and swung. + +_Crack!_ + +Swift as an arrow and close to the ground the ball shot to left field. +Starke leaped frantically to head it off, and as it took a wicked bound +he dove forward head first, hands outstretched, and knocked it down. +But the ball rolled a few yards, and Starke had to recover from his +magnificent effort. + +No one on the field saw Ward and Homans running for the plate. All eyes +were on the gray, flitting shadow of a sprinter. One voice only, and +that was Murray's, boomed out in the silence. When Reddy turned second +base Starke reached the ball and threw for third. It was a beautiful +race between ball and runner for the bag. As Reddy stretched into the +air in a long slide the ball struck and shot off the ground with a +glancing bound. They reached the base at the same time. But Griffith, +trying to block the runner, went spinning down, and the ball rolled +toward the bleachers. Reddy was up and racing plateward so quickly +that it seemed he had not been momentarily checked. The few Wayne +rooters went wild. + +"Three runs!" yelled the delirious coaches. Weir was so overcome that +he did not know it was his turn at bat. When called in he hurried to +the plate and drove a line fly to centre that Keene caught only after +a hard run. + +Ken Ward rose from the bench to go out on the diamond. The voices of +his comrades sounded far away, as voices in a dream. + +"Three to the good now, Ward! It's yours!" said Captain Homans. + +"Only nine more batters! Peg, keep your feet leaded!" called Reddy Ray. + +"It's the seventh, and Place hasn't made a safe hit! Oh, Ken!" +came from Raymond. + +So all the boys vented their hope and trust in their pitcher. + +There was a mist before Ken's eyes that he could not rub away. The field +blurred at times. For five innings after the first he had fought some +unaccountable thing. He had kept his speed, his control, his memory of +batters, and he had pitched magnificently. But something had hovered +over him, and had grown more tangible as the game progressed. There was +a shadow always before his sight. + +In the last of the seventh, with Keene at bat, Ken faced the plate with +a strange unsteadiness and a shrinking for which he hated himself. What +was wrong with him? Had he been taken suddenly ill? Anger came to his +rescue, and he flung himself into his pitching with fierce ardor. He +quivered with a savage hope when Keene swung ineffectually at the high +in-shoot. He pitched another and another, and struck out the batter. +But now it meant little to see him slam down his bat in a rage. For +Ken had a foreboding that he could not do it again. When Prince came +up Ken found he was having difficulty in keeping the ball where he +wanted it. Prince batted a hot grounder to Blake, who fumbled. MacNeff +had three balls and one strike called upon him before he hit hard over +second base. But Raymond pounced upon the ball like a tiger, dashed +over the bag and threw to first, getting both runners. + +"Wull, Ken, make them hit to me," growled Raymond. + +Ken sat down upon the bench far from the coach. He shunned Worry in that +moment. The warm praise of his fellow-players was meaningless to him. +Something was terribly wrong. He knew he shrank from going into the box +again, yet dared not admit it to himself. He tried to think clearly, and +found his mind in a whirl. When the Wayne batters went out in one, two, +three order, and it was time for Ken to pitch again, he felt ice form in +his veins. + +"Only six more hitters!" called Reddy's warning voice. It meant cheer +and praise from Reddy, but to Ken it seemed a knell. + +"Am I weakening?" muttered Ken. "Am I going up in the air? _What_ is +wrong with me?" + +He was nervous now and could not stand still and he felt himself +trembling. The ball was wet from the sweat in his hands; his hair +hung damp over his brow and he continually blew it out of his eyes. +With all his spirit he crushed back the almost overwhelming desire +to hurry, hurry, hurry. Once more, in a kind of passion, he fought +off the dreaded unknown weakness. + +With two balls pitched to Starke he realized that he had lost control +of his curve. He was not frightened for the loss of his curve, but he +went stiff with fear that he might lose control of his fast ball, his +best and last resort. Grimly he swung and let drive. Starke lined the +ball to left. The crowd lifted itself with a solid roar, and when Homans +caught the hit near the foul flag, subsided with a long groan. Ken set +his teeth. He knew he was not right, but did any one else know it? He +was getting magnificent support and luck was still with him. + +"Over the pan, Peg! Don't waste one!" floated from Reddy, warningly. + +Then Ken felt sure that Reddy had seen or divined his panic. How soon +would the Place players find it out? With his throat swelling and his +mouth dry and his whole body in a ferment Ken pitched to Martin. The +short-stop hit to Weir, who made a superb stop and throw. Two out! + +From all about Ken on the diamond came the low encouraging calls of +his comrades. Horton, a burly left-hander, stepped forward, swinging +a wagon-tongue. Ken could no longer steady himself and he pitched +hurriedly. One ball, two balls, one strike, three balls--how the big +looming Horton stood waiting over the plate! Almost in despair Ken +threw again, and Horton smote the ball with a solid rap. It was a low +bounder. Raymond pitched forward full length toward first base and the +ball struck in his glove with a crack, and stuck there. Raymond got up +and tossed it to McCord. A thunder of applause greeted this star play +of the game. + +The relief was so great that Ken fairly tottered as he went in to the +bench. Worry did not look at him. He scarcely heard what the boys said; +he felt them patting him on the back. Then to his amaze, and slowly +mounting certainty of disaster, the side was out, and it was again his +turn to pitch. + +"Only three more, Peg! The tail end of the batting list. _Hang on!_" +said Reddy, as he trotted out. + +Ken's old speed and control momentarily came back to him. Yet he felt +he pitched rather by instinct than intent. He struck Griffith out. + +"Only two more, Peg!" called Reddy. + +The great audience sat in depressed, straining silence. Long since the +few Wayne rooters had lost their vocal powers. + +Conroy hit a high fly to McCord. + +"Oh, Peg, _only one more!_" came the thrilling cry. No other Wayne +player could speak a word then. + +With Salisbury up, Ken had a momentary flash of his old spirit and he +sent a straight ball over the plate, meaning it to be hit. Salisbury +did hit it, and safely, through short. The long silent, long waiting +crowd opened up with yells and stamping feet. + +A horrible, cold, deadly sickness seized upon Ken as he faced the fleet, +sure-hitting Keene. He lost his speed, he lost his control. Before he +knew what had happened he had given Keene a base on balls. Two on bases +and two out! + +The Place players began to leap and fling up their arms and scream. When +out of their midst Prince ran to the plate a piercing, ear-splitting +sound pealed up from the stands. As in a haze Ken saw the long lines of +white-sleeved students become violently agitated and move up and down +to strange, crashing yells. + +Then Ken Ward knew. That was the famed Place cheer for victory at the +last stand. It was the trumpet-call of Ken's ordeal. His mind was as +full of flashes of thought as there were streaks and blurs before his +eyes. He understood Worry now. He knew now what was wrong with him, what +had been coming all through that terrible game. The whole line of stands +and bleachers wavered before him, and the bright colors blended in one +mottled band. + +Still it was in him to fight to the last gasp. The pain in his breast, +and the nausea in his stomach, and the whirling fury in his mind did not +make him give up, though they robbed him of strength. The balls he threw +to Prince were wide of the plate and had nothing of his old speed. Prince, +also, took his base on balls. + +Bases full and two out! + +MacNeff, the captain, fronted the plate, and shook his big bat at Ken. +Of all the Place hitters Ken feared him the least. He had struck MacNeff +out twice, and deep down in his heart stirred a last desperate rally. +He had only to keep the ball high and in close to win this game. Oh! +for the control that had been his pride! + +The field and stands seemed to swim round Ken and all he saw with his +half-blinded eyes was the white plate, the batter, and Dean and the +umpire. Then he took his swing and delivered the ball. + +It went true. MacNeff missed it. + +Ken pitched again. The umpire held up one finger of each hand. +One ball and one strike. Two more rapid pitches, one high and one +wide. Two strikes and two balls. + +Ken felt his head bursting and there were glints of red before his eyes. +He bit his tongue to keep it from lolling out. He was almost done. That +ceaseless, infernal din had benumbed his being. With a wrenching of his +shoulder Ken flung up another ball. MacNeff leaned over it, then let it +go by. + +Three and two! + +It was torture for Ken. He had the game in his hands, yet could not +grasp it. He braced himself for the pitch and gave it all he had left +in him. + +"_Too low!_" he moaned. MacNeff killed low balls. + +The big captain leaped forward with a terrific swing and hit the ball. +It lined over short, then began to rise, shot over Homans, and soared +far beyond, to drop and roll and roll. + +Through darkening sight Ken Ward saw runner after runner score, and saw +Homans pick up the ball as MacNeff crossed the plate with the winning +run. In Ken's ears seemed a sound of the end of the world. + +He thought himself the centre of a flying wheel. It was the boys +crowding around him. He saw their lips move but caught no words. +Then choking and tottering, upheld by Reddy Ray's strong arm, the +young pitcher walked off the field. + + + + +XVII + +KEN'S DAY + + +The slow return to the tavern, dressing and going to the station, the +ride home, the arrival at the training-house, the close-pressing, silent +companionship of Reddy Ray, Worry, and Raymond--these were dim details +of that day of calamity. Ken Ward's mind was dead--locked on that fatal +moment when he pitched a low ball to MacNeff. His friends left him in +the darkness of his room, knowing instinctively that it was best for +him to be alone. + +Ken undressed and crawled wearily into bed and stretched out as if he +knew and was glad he would never move his limbs again. The silence and +the darkness seemed to hide him from himself. His mind was a whirling +riot of fire, and in it was a lurid picture of that moment with MacNeff +at bat. Over and over and over he lived it in helpless misery. His ears +were muffled with that huge tide of sound. Again and again and again he +pitched the last ball, to feel his heart stop beating, to see the big +captain lunge at the ball, to watch it line and rise and soar. + +But gradually exhaustion subdued his mental strife, and he wandered in +mind and drifted into sleep. When he woke it was with a cold, unhappy +shrinking from the day. His clock told the noon hour; he had slept +long. Outside the June sunlight turned the maple leaves to gold. Was +it possible, Ken wondered dully, for the sun ever to shine again? Then +Scotty came bustling in. + +"Mr. Wau-rd, won't ye be hovin' breakfast?" he asked, anxiously. + +"Scotty, I'll never eat again," replied Ken. + +There were quick steps upon the stairs and Worry burst in, rustling +a newspaper. + +"Hello, old man!" he called, cheerily. "Say! Look at this!" + +He thrust the paper before Ken's eyes and pointed to a column: + + + Place Beat Wayne by a Lucky Drive. Young Ward + Pitched the Greatest Game Ever Pitched on + Place Field and Lost It in the Ninth, with + Two Men Out and Three and Two on MacNeff + + +Ken's dull, gloom-steeped mind underwent a change, but he could not +speak. He sat up in bed, clutching the paper, and gazing from it to +the coach. Raymond came in, followed by Homans, and, last, Reddy Ray, +who sat down upon the bed. They were all smiling, and that seemed +horrible to Ken. + +"But, Worry--Reddy--I--I lost the game--threw it away!" faltered Ken. + +"Oh no, Peg. You pitched a grand game. Only in the stretch you got one +ball too low," said Reddy. + +"Peg, you started to go up early in the game," added Worry, with a smile, +as if the fact was amusing. "You made your first balloon-ascension in +the seventh. And in the ninth you exploded. I never seen a better case +of up-in-the-air. But, Peg, in spite of it you pitched a wonderful game. +You had me guessin'. I couldn't take you out of the box. Darn me if I +didn't think you'd shut Place out in spite of your rattles!" + +"Then--after all--it's not so terrible?" Ken asked, breathlessly. + +"Why, boy, it's all right. We can lose a game, and to lose one like +that--it's as good as winnin'. Say! I'm a liar if I didn't see 'em +Place hitters turnin' gray-headed! Listen! That game over there was +tough on all the kids, you most of all, of course. But you all stood +the gaff. You've fought out a grillin' big game away from home. That's +over. You'll never go through that again. But it was the makin' of +you.... Here, look this over! Mebbe it'll cheer you up." + +He took something from Raymond and tossed it upon the bed. It looked +like a round, red, woolly bundle. Ken unfolded it, to disclose a +beautiful sweater, with a great white "W" in the centre. + +"The boys all got 'em this mornin'," added Worry. + +It was then that the tragedy of the Place game lost its hold on Ken, +and retreated until it stood only dimly in outline. + +"I'll--I'll be down to lunch," said Ken, irrelevantly. + +His smiling friends took the hint and left the room. + +Ken hugged the sweater while reading the _Times-Star's_ account of the +game. Whoever the writer was, Ken loved him. Then he hid his face in +the pillow, and though he denied to himself that he was crying, when he +arose it was certain that the pillow was wet. + +An hour later Ken presented himself at lunch, once more his old amiable +self. The boys freely discussed baseball--in fact, for weeks they had +breathed and dreamed baseball--but Ken noted, for the first time, where +superiority was now added to the old confidence. The Wayne varsity had +found itself. It outclassed Herne; it was faster than Place; it stood +in line for championship honors. + +"Peg, you needn't put on your uniform to-day," said the coach. +"You rest up. But go over to Murray and have your arm rubbed. +Is it sore or stiff?" + +"Not at all. I could work again to-day," replied Ken. + +That afternoon, alone in his room, he worked out his pitching plan +for Saturday's game. It did not differ materially from former plans. +But for a working basis he had self-acquired knowledge of the Place +hitters. It had been purchased at dear cost. He feared none of them +except Prince. He decided to use a high curve ball over the plate +and let Prince hit, trusting to luck and the players behind him. Ken +remembered how the Place men had rapped hard balls at Raymond. Most +of them were right-field hitters. Ken decided to ask Homans to play +Reddy Ray in right field. Also he would arrange a sign with Reddy and +Raymond and McCord so they would know when he intended to pitch speed +on the outside corner of the plate. For both his curve and fast ball +so pitched were invariably hit toward right field. When it came to +MacNeff, Ken knew from the hot rankling deep down in him that he would +foil that hitter. He intended to make the others hit, pitching them +always, to the best of his judgment and skill, those balls they were +least likely to hit safely, yet which would cut the corners of the +plate if let go. No bases on balls this game, that he vowed grimly. +And if he got in a pinch he would fall back upon his last resort, the +fast jump ball; and now that he had gone through his baptism of fire +he knew he was not likely to lose his control. So after outlining his +plan he believed beyond reasonable doubt that he could win the game. + +The evening of that day he confided his plan to Reddy Ray and had the +gratification of hearing it warmly commended. While Ken was with Reddy +the coach sent word up to all rooms that the boys were to "cut" baseball +talk. They were to occupy their minds with reading, study, or games. + +"It's pretty slow," said Reddy. "Peg, let's have some fun with somebody." + +"I'm in. What'll we do?" + +"Can't you think? You're always leaving schemes to me. +Use your brains, boy." + +Ken pondered a moment and then leaped up in great glee. + +"Reddy, I've got something out of sight," he cried. + +"Spring it, then." + +"Well, it's this: Kel Raymond is perfectly crazy about his new sweater. +He moons over it and he carries it around everywhere. Now it happens +that Kel is a deep sleeper. He's hard to wake up. I've always had to +shake him and kick him to wake him every morning. I'm sure we could get +him in that sweater without waking him. So to-morrow morning you come +down early, before seven, and help me put the sweater on Kel. We'll +have Worry and the boys posted and we'll call them in to see Kel, and +then we'll wake him and swear he slept in his sweater." + +"Peg, you've a diabolical bent of mind. That'll be great. I'll be on +the job bright and early." + +Ken knew he could rely on the chattering of the sparrows in the +woodbine round his window. They always woke him, and this morning +was no exception. It was after six and a soft, balmy breeze blew in. +Ken got up noiselessly and dressed. Raymond snored in blissful +ignorance of the conspiracy. Presently a gentle tapping upon the +door told Ken that Reddy was in the hall. Ken let him in and they +held a whispered consultation. + +"Let's see," said Reddy, picking up the sweater. "It's going to be an +all-fired hard job. This sweater's tight. We'll wake him." + +"Not on your life!" exclaimed Ken. "Not if we're quick. Now you roll +up the sweater so--and stretch it on your hands--so--and when I lift +Kel up you slip it over his head. It'll be like pie." + +The operation was deftly though breathlessly performed, and all it +brought from Raymond was a sleepy: "Aw--lemme sleep," and then he +was gone again. + +Ken and Reddy called all the boys, most of whom were in their pajamas, +and Worry and Scotty and Murray, and got them all up-stairs in Raymond's +room. Raymond lay in bed very innocently asleep, and no one would have +suspected that he had not slept in his sweater. + +"Well, I'll be dog-goned!" ejaculated Worry, laughing till he cried. +Murray was hugely delighted. These men were as much boys as the boys +they trained. + +The roar of laughter awakened Raymond, and he came out of sleep very +languid and drowsy. + +"Aw, Ken, lemme sleep s'more." + +He opened his eyes and, seeing the room full of boys and men, he looked +bewildered, then suspicious. + +"Wull, what do all you guys want?" + +"We only came in to see you asleep in your new varsity sweater," +replied Ken, with charming candor. + +At this Raymond discovered the sweater and he leaped out of bed. + +"It's a lie! I never slept in it! Somebody jobbed me! +I'll lick him!... It's a lie, I say!" + +He began to hop up and down in a black fury. The upper half of him +was swathed in the red sweater; beneath that flapped the end of his +short nightgown; and out of that stuck his thin legs, all knotted +and spotted with honorable bruises won in fielding hard-batted balls. +He made so ludicrous a sight that his visitors roared with laughter. +Raymond threw books, shoes, everything he could lay his hands upon, +and drove them out in confusion. + +Saturday seemed a long time in arriving, but at last it came. All +morning the boys kept close under cover of the training-house. Some +one sent them a package of placards. These were round, in the shape +of baseballs. They were in the college colors, the background of which +was a bright red, and across this had been printed in white the words: +"_Peg Ward's Day!_" + +"What do you think of that?" cried the boys, with glistening eyes. +But Ken was silent. + +Worry came in for lunch and reported that the whole west end of the +city had been placarded. + +"The students have had millions of 'em cards printed," said Worry. +"They're everywhere. Murray told me there was a hundred students +tackin' 'em up on the stands and bleachers. They've got 'em on +sticks of wood for pennants for the girls.... 'Peg Ward's Day!' +Well, I guess!" + +At two-thirty o'clock the varsity ran upon the field, to the welcoming +though somewhat discordant music of the university band. What the music +lacked in harmony it made up in volume, and as noise appeared to be the +order of the day, it was most appropriate. However, a great booming +cheer from the crowded stands drowned the band. + +It was a bright summer day, with the warm air swimming in the thick, +golden light of June, with white clouds sailing across the blue sky. +Grant Field resembled a beautiful crater with short, sloping sides +of white and gold and great splashes of red and dots of black all +encircling a round lake of emerald. Flashes of gray darted across +the green, and these were the Place players in practice. Everywhere +waved and twinkled and gleamed the red-and-white Wayne placards. And +the front of the stands bore wide-reaching bands of these colored cards. +The grand-stand, with its pretty girls and gowns, and waving pennants, +and dark-coated students, resembled a huge mosaic of many colors, +moving and flashing in the sunlight. One stand set apart for the Place +supporters was a solid mass of blue and gold. And opposite to it, in +vivid contrast, was a long circle of bleachers, where five thousand +red-placarded, red-ribboned Wayne students sat waiting to tear the +air into shreds with cheers. Dale and Stevens and Bryan, wearing their +varsity sweaters, strode to and fro on the cinder-path, and each carried +a megaphone. Cheers seemed to lurk in the very atmosphere. A soft, happy, +subdued roar swept around the field. Fun and good-nature and fair-play +and love of college pervaded that hum of many voices. Yet underneath it +all lay a suppressed spirit, a hidden energy, waiting for the battle. + +When Wayne had finished a brief, snappy practice, Kern, a National +League umpire, called the game, with Place at bat. Ken Ward walked to +the pitcher's slab amid a prolonged outburst, and ten thousand red cards +bearing his name flashed like mirrors against the sunlight. Then the +crashing Place yell replied in defiance. + +Ken surveyed his fellow-players, from whom came low, inspiriting words; +then, facing the batter, Keene, he eyed him in cool speculation, and +swung into supple action. + +The game started with a rush. Keene dumped the ball down the third-base +line. Blake, anticipating the play, came rapidly in, and bending while +in motion picked up the ball and made a perfect snap-throw to McCord, +beating Keene by a foot. Prince drove a hot grass-cutter through the +infield, and the Place stand let out shrill, exultant yells. MacNeff +swung powerfully on the first ball, which streaked like a flitting wing +close under his chin. Prince, with a good lead, had darted for second. +It was wonderful how his little, short legs carried him so swiftly. And +his slide was what might have been expected of a famous football player. +He hit the ground and shot into the bag just as Raymond got Dean's +unerring throw too late. Again the Place rooters howled. MacNeff +watched his second strike go by. The third pitch, remorselessly true +to that fatal place, retired him on strikes; and a roll of thunder +pealed from under the Wayne bleachers. Starke struck at the first ball +given him. The Place waiters were not waiting on Ken to-day; evidently +the word had gone out to hit. Ken's beautiful, speedy ball, breast high, +was certainly a temptation. Starke lifted a long, lofty fly far beyond +Homans, who ran and ran, and turned to get it gracefully at his breast. + +Worry Arthurs sat stern and intent upon the Wayne bench. "Get that hit +back and go them a run better!" was his sharp order. + +The big, loose-jointed Salisbury, digging his foot into the dirt, +settled down and swung laboriously. Homans waited. The pitch was a +strike, and so was the next. But strikes were small matters for the +patient Homans. He drew three balls after that, and then on the next +he hit one of his short, punky safeties through the left side of the +infield. The Wayne crowd accepted it with vigor of hands and feet. +Raymond trotted up, aggressive and crafty. He intended to bunt, and +the Place infield knew it and drew in closer. Raymond fouled one, then +another, making two strikes. But he dumped the next and raced for the +base. Salisbury, big and slow as he was, got the ball and threw Raymond +out. Homans over-ran second, intending to go on, but, halted by Weir's +hoarse coaching, he ran back. + +When Reddy Ray stepped out it was to meet a rousing cheer, and then the +thousands of feet went crash! crash! crash! Reddy fouled the first ball +over the grand-stand. Umpire Kern threw out a new one, gleaming white. +The next two pitches were wide; the following one Reddy met with the +short poke he used when hitting to left field. The ball went over +Martin's head, scoring Homans with the first run of the game. That +allowed the confident Wayne crowd to get up and yell long and loud. +Weir fouled out upon the first ball pitched, and Blake, following him, +forced Reddy out at second on an infield hit. + +Place tied the score in the second inning on Weir's fumble of Martin's +difficult grounder, a sacrifice by Horton, and Griffith's safe fly back +of second. + +With the score tied, the teams blanked inning after inning until the +fifth. Wayne found Salisbury easy to bat, but a Place player was always +in front of the hit. And Place found Peg Ward unsolvable when hits meant +runs. Ken kept up his tireless, swift cannonading over the plate, making +his opponents hit, and when they got a runner on base he extended himself +with the fast raise ball. In the first of the fifth, with two out, Prince +met one of Ken's straight ones hard and fair and drove the ball into +the bleachers for a home-run. That solid blue-and-gold square of Place +supporters suddenly became an insane tossing, screeching mêlée. + +The great hit also seemed to unleash the fiery spirit which had waited +its chance. The Wayne players came in for their turn like angry bees. +Trace got a base on balls. Dean sacrificed. Ken also essayed to bunt +and fouled himself out on strikes. Again Homans hit safely, but the +crafty Keene, playing close, held Trace at third. + +"We want the score!" Crash! crash! crash! went the bleachers. + +With Raymond up and two out, the chance appeared slim, for he was not +strong at batting. But he was great at trying, and this time, as luck +would have it, he hit clean through second. Trace scored, and Homans, +taking desperate risk, tried to reach home on the hit and failed. It +was fast, exciting work, and the crowd waxed hotter and hotter. + +For Place the lumbering Horton hit a twisting grounder to McCord, who +batted it down with his mitt, jumped for it, turned and fell on the base, +but too late to get his man. Griffith swung on Ken's straight ball and, +quite by accident, blocked a little bunt out of reach of both Dean and +Ken. It was a safe hit. Conroy stepped into Ken's fast ball, which ticked +his shirt, and the umpire sent him down to first amid the vociferous +objections of the Wayne rooters. + +Three runners on bases and no one out. How the Place students bawled +and beat their seats and kicked the floor! + +Ken took a longer moment of deliberation. He showed no sign that the +critical situation unnerved him. But his supple shoulders knit closer, +and his long arm whipped harder as he delivered the ball. + +Salisbury, a poor batter, apparently shut his eyes and swung with +all his might. All present heard the ringing crack of the bat, but +few saw the ball. Raymond leaped lengthwise to the left and flashed +out his glove. There was another crack, of different sound. Then +Raymond bounded over second base, kicking the bag, and with fiendish +quickness sped the ball to first. Kern, the umpire, waved both arms +wide. Then to the gasping audience the play became clear. Raymond +had caught Salisbury's line hit in one hand, enabling him to make a +triple play. A mighty shout shook the stands. Then strong, rhythmic, +lusty cheers held the field in thrall for the moment, while the teams +changed sides. + +In Wayne's half of the sixth both Weir and McCord hit safely, +but sharp fielding by Place held them on base. + +Again the formidable head of Place's batting order was up. Keene lined +to right field, a superb hit that looked good for a triple, but it had +not the speed to get beyond the fleet sprinter. + +Ken eyed the curly-haired Prince as if he was saying to himself: +"I'm putting them over to-day. Hit if you can!" + +Prince appeared to jump up and chop Ken's first pitch. The ball +struck on fair ground and bounded very high, and was a safe hit. +Prince took a long lead off first base, and three times slid back +to the bag when Ken tried to catch him. The fast football man +intended to steal; Ken saw it, Dean saw it; everybody saw it. +Whereupon Ken delivered a swift ball outside of the plate. As +Prince went down little Dean caught the pitch and got the ball +away quick as lightning. Raymond caught it directly in the base-line, +and then, from the impact of the sliding Prince, he went hurtling +down. Runner, baseman, and ball disappeared in a cloud of dust. +Kern ran nimbly down the field and waved Prince off. + +But Raymond did not get up. The umpire called time. Worry Arthurs +ran out, and he and Weir carried Raymond to the bench, where they +bathed his head and wiped the blood from his face. + +Presently Raymond opened his eyes. + +"Wull, what struck me?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothin'. There was a trolley loose in the field," replied Worry. +"Can you get up? Why did you try to block that football rusher?" + +Raymond shook his head. + +"Did I tag the big fat devil?" he queried, earnestly. "Is he out?" + +"You got him a mile," replied Worry. + +After a few moments Raymond was able to stand upon his feet, but he +was so shaky that Worry sent Schoonover to second. + +Then the cheering leaders before the bleachers bellowed through their +megaphones, and the students, rising to their feet, pealed out nine +ringing "_Waynes!_" and added a roaring "Raymond!" to the end. + +With two out, Kern called play. + +Once again MacNeff was at bat. He had not made a foul in his two times +up. He was at Ken's mercy, and the Wayne rooters were equally merciless. + +"Ho! the slugging captain comes!" + +"Get him a board!" + +"Fluke hitter!" + +"Mac, that was a lucky stab of yours Wednesday! Hit one _now_!" + +No spectator of that game missed Ken's fierce impetuosity when he +faced MacNeff. He was as keen strung as a wire when he stood erect +in the box, and when he got into motion he whirled far around, swung +back bent, like a spring, and seemed to throw his whole body with the +ball. One--two--three strikes that waved up in their velocity, and +MacNeff for the third time went out. + +Clatter and smash came from the bleachers, long stamping of feet, +whistle and bang, for voices had become weak. + +A hit, an error, a double play, another hit, a steal, and a forced +out--these told Wayne's dogged, unsuccessful trial for the winning run. + +But Worry Arthurs had curtly said to his pitcher: "Peg, cut loose!" +and man after man for Place failed to do anything with his terrific +speed. It was as if Ken had reserved himself wholly for the finish. + +In the last of the eighth Dean hit one that caromed off Griffith's shin, +and by hard running the little catcher made second. Ken sent him to third +on a fielder's choice. It was then the run seemed forthcoming. Salisbury +toiled in the box to coax the wary Homans. The Wayne captain waited until +he got a ball to his liking. Martin trapped the hit and shot the ball +home to catch Dean. It was another close decision, as Dean slid with the +ball, but the umpire decided against the runner. + +"Peg, lam them over now!" called Reddy Ray. + +It was the first of the ninth, with the weak end of Place's hitting +strength to face Ken. Griffith, Conroy, Salisbury went down before +him as grass before a scythe. To every hitter Ken seemed to bring +more effort, more relentless purpose to baffle them, more wonderful +speed and control of his fast ball. + +Through the stands and bleachers the word went freely that the game +would go to ten innings, eleven innings, twelve innings, with the +chances against the tiring Salisbury. + +But on the Wayne bench there was a different order of conviction. Worry +sparkled like flint. Homans, for once not phlegmatic, faced the coaching +line at third. Raymond leaned pale and still against the bench. Ken was +radiant. + +Reddy Ray bent over the row of bats and singled out his own. His strong, +freckled hands clenched the bat and whipped it through the air. His eyes +were on fire when he looked at the stricken Raymond. + +"Kel, something may happen yet before I get up to the plate," he said. +"But if it doesn't--" + +Then he strode out, knocked the dirt from his spikes, and stepped into +position. Something about Reddy at that moment, or something potent in +the unforeseen play to come, quieted the huge crowd. + +Salisbury might have sensed it. He fussed with the ball and took a long +while to pitch. Reddy's lithe form whirled around and seemed to get into +running motion with the crack of the ball. Martin made a beautiful pick-up +of the sharply bounding ball, but he might as well have saved himself the +exertion. The championship sprinter beat the throw by yards. + +Suddenly the whole Wayne contingent arose in a body, a tribute to what +they expected of Reddy, and rent Grant Field with one tremendous outburst. + +As it ceased a hoarse voice of stentorian volume rose and swelled on +the air. + +"_Wayne wins!_ WATCH HIM RUN!" + +It came from Murray, who loved his great sprinter. + +Thrice Salisbury threw to MacNeff to hold Reddy close to first base, +but he only wasted his strength. Then he turned toward the batter, +and he had scarcely twitched a muscle in the beginning of his swing, +when the keen sprinter was gone like a flash. His running gave the +impression of something demon-like forced by the wind. He had covered +the ground and was standing on the bag when Prince caught Conroy's throw. + +Pandemonium broke out in the stands and bleachers, and a piercing, +continuous scream. The sprinter could not be stopped. That was plain. +He crouched low, watching Salisbury. Again and again the pitcher tried +to keep Reddy near second base, but as soon as Martin or Prince returned +the ball Reddy took his lead off the bag. He meant to run on the first +pitch; he was on his toes. And the audience went wild, and the Place +varsity showed a hurried, nervous strain. They yelled to Salisbury, +but neither he nor any one else could have heard a thunderbolt in +that moment. + +Again Salisbury toed the rubber, and he hesitated, with his face turned +toward second. But he had to pitch the ball, and as his elbow trembled +the sprinter shot out of his tracks with the start that had made him +famous. His red hair streaked in the wind like a waving flame. His +beautiful stride swallowed distance. Then he sailed low and slid into +the base as the ball struck Griffith's hands. + +Reddy was on third now, with no one out, with two balls upon Weir and +no strikes. In the fury of sound runner and batter exchanged a glance +that was a sign. + +The sprinter crouched low, watching Salisbury. For the third time, +as the pitcher vibrated with the nervous force preceding his delivery, +Reddy got his start. He was actually running before the ball left +Salisbury's hand. Almost it seemed that with his marvellous fleetness +he was beating the ball to the plate. But as the watchers choked in +agony of suspense Weir bunted the ball, and Reddy Ray flashed across +the plate with the winning run. + +Then all that seemed cheering, din, and stamping roar deadened in an +earth-shaking sound like an avalanche. + +The students piled out of the bleachers in streams and poured +on the field. An irresistible, hungry, clamoring flood, they +submerged the players. + +Up went Ken upon sturdy shoulders, and up went Reddy Ray and +Kel and Homans and Dean--all the team, and last the red-faced +Worry Arthurs. Then began the triumphant march about Grant Field +and to the training-house. + +It was a Wayne day, a day for the varsity, for Homans and Raymond, +and for the great sprinter, but most of all it was Peg Ward's day. + + + + +XVIII + +BREAKING TRAINING + + +The Wayne varsity was a much-handled, storm-tossed team before it +finally escaped the clutches of the students. Every player had a +ringing in his ears and a swelling in his heart. When the baseball +uniforms came off they were carefully packed in the bottoms of trunks, +and twelve varsity sweaters received as tender care as if they were +the flimsy finery dear to the boys' sisters. + +At six the players were assembled in the big reading-room, and there +was a babel of exultant conversation. Worry suddenly came in, shouting +to persons without, who manifestly wanted to enter. "Nothin' doin' yet! +I'll turn the boys over to you in one hour!" Then he banged the door +and locked it. + +Worry was a sight to behold. His collar was unbuttoned, and his necktie +disarranged. He had no hat. His hair was damp and rumpled, and his red +face worked spasmodically. + +"Where's Peg?" he yelled, and his little bright eyes blinked at his +players. It was plain that Worry could not see very well then. Some +one pushed Ken out, and Worry fell on his neck. He hugged him close +and hard. Then he dived at Reddy and mauled him. Next he fell all over +little crippled Raymond, who sat propped up in an arm-chair. For once +Raymond never murmured for being jumped on. Upon every player, and even +the substitutes, Worry expressed his joy in violent manner, and then he +fell down himself, perspiring, beaming, utterly exhausted. This man was +not the cold, caustic coach of the cage-days, nor the stern, hard ruler +from the bench, nor the smooth worker on his players' feelings. This was +Worry Arthurs with his varsity at the close of a championship season. +No one but the boys who had fought at his bidding for Wayne ever saw +him like that. + +"Oh, Peg, it was glorious! This game gives us the record and the +championship. Say, Peg, this was the great game for you to win. +For you made Place hit, and then when they got runners on bases +you shut down on 'em. You made MacNeff look like a dub. You gave +that home-run to Prince." + +"I sure was after MacNeff's scalp," replied Ken. "And I put the ball +over for Prince to hit. What else could I do? Why, that little chunky +cuss has an eye, and he can sting the ball--he's almost as good as Reddy. +But, Worry, you mustn't give me the credit. Reddy won the game, you know." + +"You talk like a kid," replied Reddy, for once not cool and easy. +"I cut loose and ran some; but, Peg, you and Raymond won the game." + +"Wull, you make me sick," retorted Raymond, threatening to get up. +"There wasn't anything to this day but Peg Ward." + +Ken replied with more heat than dignity, and quick as a flash he and +Reddy and Raymond were involved in a wordy war, trying to place the +credit for winning the game. They dragged some of the other boys into +the fierce argument. + +Worry laughed and laughed; then, as this loyal bunch of players +threatened to come to blows, he got angry. + +"_Shut up!_" he roared. "I never seen such a lot of hot-headed kids. +Shut up, and let me tell you who won this Place game. It'll go down +on record as a famous game, so you'll do well to have it straight. +Listen! The Wayne varsity won this game. Homans, your captain, won it, +because he directed the team and followed orders. He hit and run some, +too. Reddy Ray won this game by bein' a blue streak of chain lightnin' +on the bases. Raymond won it by makin' a hit when we all expected +him to fall dead. He won it twice, the second time with the greatest +fieldin' play ever pulled off on Grant Field. Dean won the game by +goin' up and hangin' onto Peg's jump ball. McCord won it by diggin' +low throws out of the dirt. Weir was around when it happened, wasn't +he--and Blake and Trace? Then there was Peg himself. He won the game +a _little_. Say! he had Place trimmed when he stepped on the slab in +the first innin'. So you all won the big Wayne-Place game." + +Then Worry advanced impressively to the table, put his hand in his +breast pocket and brought forth a paper. + +"You've won this for me, boys," he said, spreading the paper out. + +"What is it?" they asked, wonderingly. + +"Nothin' of much importance to you boys as compared with winnin' +the game, but some to Worry Arthurs." He paused with a little choke. +"It's a five-year contract to coach Wayne's baseball teams." + +A thundering cheer attested to the importance of that document +to the boys. + +"Oh, Worry, but I'm glad!" cried Ken. "Then your son Harry will be +in college next year--will be on the team?" + +"Say, he'll have to go some to make next year's varsity, with only +two or three vacancies to fill. Now, fellows, I want to know things. +Sit down now and listen." + +They all took seats, leaving the coach standing at the table. + +"Homans, is there any hope of your comin' back to college next year?" + +"None, I'm sorry to say," replied the captain. "Father intends to put +me in charge of his business." + +"Reddy, how about a post-graduate course for you? You need that P.G." + +"Worry, come to think of it, I really believe my college education +would not be complete without that P.G.," replied Reddy, with the +old cool speech, and a merry twinkle in his eye. + +At this the boys howled like Indians, and Worry himself did a +little war-dance. + +"Raymond, you'll come back?" went on the coach. + +The second-baseman appeared highly insulted. "Come back? Wull, what +do you take me for? I'd like to see the guy who can beat me out of +my place next season." + +This brought another hearty cheer. + +Further questioning made clear that all the varsity except Homans, +Blake, and McCord would surely return to college. + +"Fine! Fine! Fine!" exclaimed Worry. + +Then he began to question each player as to what he intended to +do through the summer months, and asked him to promise not to play +ball on any summer nines. + +"Peg, you're the one I'm scared about," said Worry, earnestly. "These +crack teams at the seashore and in the mountains will be hot after you. +They've got coin too, Peg, and they'll spend it to get you." + +"All I've got to say is they'll waste their breath talking to me," +replied Ken, with a short laugh. + +"What are you goin' to do all summer?" asked Worry, curiously. +"Where will you be?" + +"I expect to go to Arizona." + +"Arizona? What in the deuce are you goin' way out there for?" + +Ken paused, and then when about to reply Raymond burst out. + +"Worry, he says it's forestry, but he only took up that fool subject +because he likes to chase around in the woods. He's nutty about trees +and bears and mustangs. He was in Arizona last summer. You ought to +hear some of the stories he's told me. Why, if they're true he's got +Frank Nelson and Jim Hawkins skinned to a frazzle." + +"For instance?" asked Worry, very much surprised and interested. + +"Why stories about how he was chased and captured by outlaws, and +lassoed bears, and had scraps with Mexicans, and was in wild caves +and forest fires, and lots about a Texas ranger who always carried +two big guns. I've had the nightmare ever since we've been in the +training-house. Oh, Ken can tell stories all right. He's as much +imagination as he's got speed with a ball. And say, Worry, he's got +the nerve to tell me that this summer he expects to help an old hunter +lasso mountain-lions out there in Arizona. What do you think of that?" + +"It's straight goods!" protested Ken, solemnly facing the +bright-eyed boys. + +"We want to go along!" yelled everybody. + +"Say, Peg, I ain't stuck on that idee, not a little bit," +replied the coach, dubiously. + +"Worry has begun to worry about next season. He's afraid Peg will +get that arm chewed off," put in Reddy. + +"Well, if I've got to choose between lettin' Peg chase mountain-lions +and seein' him chased by 'em fat-head directors, I'll take my chances +with the lions." + +Then all in a moment Worry became serious. + +"Boys, it's time to break trainin'. I ain't got much to say. You're the +best team I ever developed. Let it go at that. In a few minutes you are +free to go out to the banquets and receptions, to all that's waitin' for +you. And it will be great. To-morrow you will be sayin' good-bye to me +and to each other and scatterin' to your homes. But let's not forget +each other and how we plugged this year. Sure, it was only baseball, +but, after all, I think good, hard play, on the square and against long +odds, will do as much for you as your studies. Let the old baseball +coach assure you of that." + +He paused, paced a few steps to and fro, hands behind his back, +thoughtful and somewhat sad. + +The members of the varsity sat pale and still, faces straight before +them, eyes shining with memory of that long up-hill struggle, and +glistening, too, with the thought that the time had come for parting. + +"Homans, will you please see to the election of the new captain?" +said Worry. + +Homans stepped out briskly and placed a hat, twelve folded slips of +paper, and a pencil upon the table. + +"Fellows, you will follow me in our regular batting order," directed +Homans. "Each man is to write his name on one side of a slip of paper +and his choice for captain on the other side. Drop the paper in the hat." + +Homans seated himself at the table and quickly cast his vote. Raymond +hobbled up next. Reddy Ray followed him. And so, in silence, and with +a certain grave dignity of manner that had yet a suggestion of pleasure, +the members of the varsity voted. + +When they had resumed their seats Homans turned the slips out of the +hat and unfolded them. + +"These votes will be given to the athletic directors and kept on record," +he said. "But we will never see but one side of them. That is Wayne's +rule in electing captains, so the players will not know how each voted. +But this is an occasion I am happy to see when we shall all know who +voted for who. It shall be a little secret of which we will never speak." + +He paused while he arranged the slips neatly together. + +"There are here twelve votes. Eleven have been cast for one player--one +for another player! Will you all please step forward and look?" + +In an intense stillness the varsity surrounded the table. There was +a sudden sharp gasp from one of them. + +With a frank, glad smile Homans held out his hand. + +"CAPTAIN WARD!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Pitcher, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG PITCHER *** + +***** This file should be named 19246-8.txt or 19246-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/4/19246/ + +Produced by Justin Gillbank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Pitcher + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: September 11, 2006 [EBook #19246] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG PITCHER *** + + + + +Produced by Justin Gillbank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="full"> + +<p class="title">The Young Pitcher</p> + +<p class="author">By Zane Grey</p> + +<p class="pubdate">1911</p> + +<hr class="small"> + +<ul> +<li>CONTENTS +</ul> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#I">The Varsity Captain</a> +<li><a href="#II">A Great Arm</a> +<li><a href="#III">Prisoner of the Sophs</a> +<li><a href="#IV">The Call for Candidates</a> +<li><a href="#V">The Cage</a> +<li><a href="#VI">Out on the Field</a> +<li><a href="#VII">Annihilation</a> +<li><a href="#VIII">Examinations</a> +<li><a href="#IX">President Halstead on College Spirit</a> +<li><a href="#X">New Players</a> +<li><a href="#XI">State University Game</a> +<li><a href="#XII">Ken Clashes with Graves</a> +<li><a href="#XIII">Friendship</a> +<li><a href="#XIV">The Herne Game</a> +<li><a href="#XV">A Matter of Principle</a> +<li><a href="#XVI">The First Place Game</a> +<li><a href="#XVII">Ken's Day</a> +<li><a href="#XVIII">Breaking Training</a> +</ul> + +<hr class="small"> + +<div> + + + +<p class="chapter-head" id="I">The Varsity Captain</p> + + +<p>Ken Ward had not been at the big university many days before he +realized the miserable lot of a freshman.</p> + +<p>At first he was sorely puzzled. College was so different from what +he had expected. At the high school of his home town, which, being +the capital of the State, was no village, he had been somebody. Then +his summer in Arizona, with its wild adventures, had given him a +self-appreciation which made his present situation humiliating.</p> + +<p>There were more than four thousand students at the university. Ken +felt himself the youngest, the smallest, the one of least consequence. +He was lost in a shuffle of superior youths. In the forestry department +he was a mere boy; and he soon realized that a freshman there was the +same as anywhere. The fact that he weighed nearly one hundred and sixty +pounds, and was no stripling, despite his youth, made not one whit of +difference.</p> + +<p>Unfortunately, his first overture of what he considered good-fellowship +had been made to an upper-classman, and had been a grievous mistake. +Ken had not yet recovered from its reception. He grew careful after +that, then shy, and finally began to struggle against disappointment +and loneliness.</p> + +<p>Outside of his department, on the campus and everywhere he ventured, +he found things still worse. There was something wrong with him, with +his fresh complexion, with his hair, with the way he wore his tie, +with the cut of his clothes. In fact, there was nothing right about +him. He had been so beset that he could not think of anything but +himself. One day, while sauntering along a campus path, with his hands +in his pockets, he met two students coming toward him. They went to +right and left, and, jerking his hands from his pockets, roared in +each ear, “How dare you walk with your hands in your pockets!”</p> + +<p>Another day, on the library step, he encountered a handsome bareheaded +youth with a fine, clean-cut face and keen eyes, who showed the true +stamp of the great university.</p> + +<p>“Here,” he said, sharply, “aren't you a freshman?”</p> + +<p>“Why—yes,” confessed Ken.</p> + +<p>“I see you have your trousers turned up at the bottom.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—so I have.” For the life of him Ken could not understand why +that simple fact seemed a crime, but so it was.</p> + +<p>“Turn them down!” ordered the student.</p> + +<p>Ken looked into the stern face and flashing eyes of his tormentor, +and then meekly did as he had been commanded.</p> + +<p>“Boy, I've saved your life. We murder freshmen here for that,” +said the student, and then passed on up the steps.</p> + +<p>In the beginning it was such incidents as these that had bewildered Ken. +He passed from surprise to anger, and vowed he would have something to +say to these upper-classmen. But when the opportunity came Ken always +felt so little and mean that he could not retaliate. This made him +furious. He had not been in college two weeks before he could distinguish +the sophomores from the seniors by the look on their faces. He hated the +sneering “Sophs,” and felt rising in him the desire to fight. But he +both feared and admired seniors. They seemed so aloof, so far above +him. He was in awe of them, and had a hopeless longing to be like +them. And as for the freshmen, it took no second glance for Ken to +pick them out. They were of two kinds—those who banded together in +crowds and went about yelling, and running away from the Sophs, and +those who sneaked about alone with timid step and furtive glance.</p> + +<p>Ken was one of these lonesome freshmen. He was pining for companionship, +but he was afraid to open his lips. Once he had dared to go into Carlton +Hall, the magnificent club-house which had been given to the university +by a famous graduate. The club was for all students—Ken had read that +on the card sent to him, and also in the papers. But manifestly the +upper-classmen had a different point of view. Ken had gotten a glimpse +into the immense reading-room with its open fireplace and huge chairs, +its air of quiet study and repose; he had peeped into the brilliant +billiard-hall and the gymnasium; and he had been so impressed and +delighted with the marble swimming-tank that he had forgotten himself +and walked too near the pool. Several students accidentally bumped him +into it. It appeared the students were so eager to help him out that +they crowded him in again. When Ken finally got out he learned the +remarkable fact that he was the sixteenth freshman who had been +accidentally pushed into the tank that day.</p> + +<p>So Ken Ward was in a state of revolt. He was homesick; he was lonely +for a friend; he was constantly on the lookout for some trick; his +confidence in himself had fled; his opinion of himself had suffered +a damaging change; he hardly dared call his soul his own.</p> + +<p>But that part of his time spent in study or attending lectures +more than made up for the other. Ken loved his subject and was +eager to learn. He had a free hour in the afternoon, and often he +passed this in the library, sometimes in the different exhibition +halls. He wanted to go into Carlton Club again, but his experience +there made him refrain.</p> + +<p>One afternoon at this hour Ken happened to glance into a lecture-room. +It was a large amphitheatre full of noisy students. The benches were +arranged in a circle running up from a small pit. Seeing safety in the +number of students who were passing in, Ken went along. He thought he +might hear an interesting lecture. It did not occur to him that he did +not belong there. The university had many departments and he felt that +any lecture-room was open to him. Still, caution had become a habit +with him, and he stepped down the steep aisle looking for an empty bench.</p> + +<p>How steep the aisle was! The benches appeared to be on the side of +a hill. Ken slipped into an empty one. There was something warm and +pleasant in the close contact of so many students, in the ripple of +laughter and the murmur of voices. Ken looked about him with a feeling +that he was glad to be there.</p> + +<p>It struck him, suddenly, that the room had grown strangely silent. +Even the shuffling steps of the incoming students had ceased. Ken +gazed upward with a queer sense of foreboding. Perhaps he only +imagined that all the students above were looking down at him. +Hurriedly he glanced below. A sea of faces, in circular rows, +was turned his way.</p> + +<p>There was no mistake about it. He was the attraction. At the same +instant when he prayed to sink through the bench out of sight a +burning anger filled his breast. What on earth had he done now? +He knew it was something; he felt it. That quiet moment seemed an +age. Then the waiting silence burst.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Fresh on fifth!</span>” yelled a student in one of the lower benches.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Fresh on fifth!</span>” bawled another at the top of his lungs.</p> + +<p>Ken's muddled brain could make little of the matter. He saw he was in +the fifth row of benches, and that all the way around on either side +of him the row was empty. The four lower rows were packed, and above +him students were scattered all over. He had the fifth row of benches +to himself.</p> + +<p>“Fresh on fifth!”</p> + +<p>Again the call rang up from below. It was repeated, now from the left of +the pit and then from the right. A student yelled it from the first row +and another from the fourth. It banged back and forth. Not a word came +from the upper part of the room.</p> + +<p>Ken sat up straight with a very red face. It was his intention to leave +the bench, but embarrassment that was developing into resentment held +him fast. What a senseless lot these students were! Why could they not +leave him in peace? How foolish of him to go wandering about in strange +lecture-rooms!</p> + +<p>A hand pressed Ken's shoulder. He looked back to see a student bending +down toward him.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Hang, Freshie!</span>” this fellow whispered.</p> + +<p>“What's it all about?” asked Ken. “What have I done, anyway? I never +was in here before.”</p> + +<p>“All Sophs down there. They don't allow freshmen to go below the sixth +row. There've been several rushes this term. And the big one's coming. +Hang, Freshie! We're all with you.”</p> + +<p>“Fresh on fifth!” The tenor of the cry had subtly changed. Good-humored +warning had changed to challenge. It pealed up from many lusty throats, +and became general all along the four packed rows.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Hang, Freshie!</span>” bellowed a freshman from the topmost row. It +was acceptance of the challenge, the battle-cry flung down to the Sophs. +A roar arose from the pit. The freshmen, outnumbering the sophomores, +drowned the roar in a hoarser one. Then both sides settled back in +ominous waiting.</p> + +<p>Ken thrilled in all his being. The freshmen were with him! That roar +told him of united strength. All in a moment he had found comrades, +and he clenched his fingers into the bench, vowing he would hang there +until hauled away.</p> + +<p>“Fresh on fifth!” shouted a Soph in ringing voice. He stood up in +the pit and stepped to the back of the second bench. “Fresh on fifth! +Watch me throw him out!”</p> + +<p>He was a sturdily built young fellow and balanced himself gracefully on +the backs of the benches, stepping up from one to the other. There was +a bold gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face. He showed good-natured +contempt for a freshman and an assurance that was close to authority.</p> + +<p>Ken sat glued to his seat in mingled fear and wrath. Was he to be the +butt of those overbearing sophomores? He thought he could do nothing but +hang on with all his might. The ascending student jumped upon the fourth +bench and, reaching up, laid hold of Ken with no gentle hands. His grip +was so hard that Ken had difficulty in stifling a cry of pain. This, +however, served to dispel his panic and make him angry clear through.</p> + +<p>The sophomore pulled and tugged with all his strength, yet he could not +dislodge Ken. The freshmen howled gleefully for him to “Hang! hang!”</p> + +<p>Then two more sophomores leaped up to help the leader. A blank silence +followed this move, and all the freshmen leaned forward breathlessly. +There was a sharp ripping of cloth. Half of Ken's coat appeared in the +hands of one of his assailants.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Ken let go his hold, pushed one fellow violently, then swung +his fists. It might have been unfair, for the sophomores were beneath +him and balancing themselves on the steep benches, but Ken was too +angry to think of that. The fellow he pushed fell into the arms of +the students below, the second slid out of sight, and the third, who +had started the fray, plunged with a crash into the pit.</p> + +<p>The freshmen greeted this with a wild yell; the sophomores answered +likewise. Like climbing, tumbling apes the two classes spilled +themselves up and down the benches, and those nearest Ken laid hold +of him, pulling him in opposite directions.</p> + +<p>Then began a fierce fight for possession of luckless Ken. Both sides +were linked together by gripping hands. Ken was absolutely powerless. +His clothes were torn to tatters in a twinkling; they were soon torn +completely off, leaving only his shoes and socks. Not only was he in +danger of being seriously injured, but students of both sides were +handled as fiercely. A heavy trampling roar shook the amphitheatre. +As they surged up and down the steep room benches were split. In the +beginning the sophomores had the advantage and the tug-of-war raged +near the pit and all about it. But the superior numbers of the freshmen +began to tell. The web of close-locked bodies slowly mounted up the room, +smashing the benches, swaying downward now and then, yet irresistibly +gaining ground. The yells of the freshmen increased with the assurance +of victory. There was one more prolonged, straining struggle, then Ken +was pulled away from the sophomores. The wide, swinging doors of the +room were knocked flat to let out the stream of wild freshmen. They +howled like fiends; it was first blood for the freshman class; the +first tug won that year.</p> + +<p>Ken Ward came to his senses out in the corridor surrounded by an +excited, beaming, and disreputable crowd of freshmen. Badly as he +was hurt, he had to laugh. Some of them looked happy in nothing but +torn underclothes. Others resembled a lot of ragamuffins. Coats were +minus sleeves, vests were split, shirts were collarless. Blood and +bruises were much in evidence.</p> + +<p>Some one helped Ken into a long ulster.</p> + +<p>“Say, it was great,” said this worthy. “Do you know who that fellow +was—the first one who tried to throw you out of number five?”</p> + +<p>“I haven't any idea,” replied Ken. In fact, he felt that his ideas +were as scarce just then as his clothes.</p> + +<p>“That was the president of the Sophs. He's the varsity baseball +captain, too. You slugged him!... Great!”</p> + +<p>Ken's spirit, low as it was, sank still lower. What miserable luck +he had! His one great ambition, next to getting his diploma, had +been to make the varsity baseball team.</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="II">A Great Arm</p> + + +<p>The shock of that battle, more than the bruising he had received, +confined Ken to his room for a week. When he emerged it was to find +he was a marked man; marked by the freshmen with a great and friendly +distinction; by the sophomores for revenge. If it had not been for +the loss of his baseball hopes, he would have welcomed the chance to +become popular with his classmates. But for him it was not pleasant +to be reminded that he had “slugged” the Sophs' most honored member.</p> + +<p>It took only two or three meetings with the revengeful sophomores to +teach Ken that discretion was the better part of valor. He learned +that the sophomores of all departments were looking for him with +deadly intent. So far luck had enabled him to escape all but a wordy +bullying. Ken became an expert at dodging. He gave the corridors and +campus a wide berth. He relinquished his desire to live in one of the +dormitories, and rented a room out in the city. He timed his arrival +at the university and his departure. His movements were governed +entirely by painfully acquired knowledge of the whereabouts of his +enemies.</p> + +<p>So for weeks Ken Ward lived like a recluse. He was not one with his +college mates. He felt that he was not the only freshman who had +gotten a bad start in college. Sometimes when he sat near a sad-faced +classmate, he knew instinctively that here was a fellow equally in +need of friendship. Still these freshmen were as backward as he was, +and nothing ever came of such feelings.</p> + +<p>The days flew by and the weeks made months, and all Ken did was attend +lectures and study. He read everything he could find in the library +that had any bearing on forestry. He mastered his text-books before the +Christmas holidays. About the vacation he had long been undecided; at +length he made up his mind not to go home. It was a hard decision to +reach. But his college life so far had been a disappointment; he was +bitter about it, and he did not want his father to know. Judge Ward +was a graduate of the university. Often and long he had talked to Ken +about university life, the lasting benefit of associations and +friendships. He would probably think that his son had barred himself +out by some reckless or foolish act. Ken was not sure what was to +blame; he knew he had fallen in his own estimation, and that the less +he thought of himself the more he hated the Sophs.</p> + +<p>On Christmas day he went to Carlton Hall. It was a chance he did not +want to miss, for very few students would be there. As it turned out +he spent some pleasant hours. But before he left the club his steps +led him into the athletic trophy room, and there he was plunged into +grief. The place was all ablaze with flags and pennants, silver cups +and gold medals, pictures of teams and individuals. There were mounted +sculls and oars, footballs and baseballs. The long and proud record +of the university was there to be read. All her famous athletes were +pictured there, and every one who had fought for his college. Ken +realized that here for the first time he was in the atmosphere of +college spirit for which the university was famed. What would he not +have given for a permanent place in that gallery! But it was too late. +He had humiliated the captain of the baseball team. Ken sought out the +picture of the last season's varsity. What a stocky lot of young chaps, +all consciously proud of the big letter on their shirts! Dale, the +captain and pitcher, was in the centre of the group. Ken knew his +record, and it was a splendid one. Ken took another look at Dale, +another at the famous trainer, Murray, and the professional coach, +Arthurs—men under whom it had been his dream to play—and then he +left the room, broken-hearted.</p> + +<p>When the Christmas recess was over he went back to his lectures resigned +to the thought that the athletic side of college life was not for him. +He studied harder than ever, and even planned to take a course of lectures +in another department. Also his adeptness in dodging was called upon more +and more. The Sophs were bound to get him sooner or later. But he did not +grow resigned to that; every dodge and flight increased his resentment. +Presently he knew he would stop and take what they had to give, and +retaliate as best he could. Only, what would they do to him when they +did catch him? He remembered his watch, his money, and clothes, never +recovered after that memorable tug-of-war. He minded the loss of his +watch most; that gift could never be replaced. It seemed to him that +he had been the greater sufferer.</p> + +<p>One Saturday in January Ken hurried from his class-room. He was always +in a hurry and particularly on Saturdays, for that being a short day +for most of the departments, there were usually many students passing +to and fro. A runaway team clattering down the avenue distracted him +from his usual caution, and he cut across the campus. Some one stopped +the horses, and a crowd collected. When Ken got there many students +were turning away. Ken came face to face with a tall, bronze-haired, +freckle-faced sophomore, whom he had dodged more than once. There was +now no use to dodge; he had to run or stand his ground.</p> + +<p>“Boys, here's that slugging Freshie!” yelled the Soph. “We've got +him now.”</p> + +<p>He might have been an Indian chief so wild was the whoop that +answered him.</p> + +<p>“Lead us to him!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what we won't do to that Freshie!”</p> + +<p>“Come on, boys!”</p> + +<p>Ken heard these yells, saw a number of boys dash at him, then he broke +and ran as if for his life. The Sophs, a dozen strong, yelling loudly, +strung out after him. Ken headed across the campus. He was fleet of +foot, and gained on his pursuers. But the yells brought more Sophs on +the scene, and they turned Ken to the right. He spurted for Carlton Hall, +and almost ran into the arms of still more sophomores. Turning tail, +he fled toward the library. When he looked back it was to see the +bronze-haired leader within a hundred yards, and back of him a long +line of shouting students.</p> + +<p>If there was a place to hide round that library Ken could not find it. +In this circuit he lost ground. Moreover, he discovered he had not used +good judgment in choosing that direction. All along the campus was a +high iron fence. Ken thought desperately hard for an instant, then with +renewed speed he bounded straight for College Hall.</p> + +<p>This was the stronghold of the sophomores. As Ken sped up the gravel +walk his pursuers split their throats.</p> + +<p>“Run, you Freshie!” yelled one.</p> + +<p>“The more you run—” yelled another.</p> + +<p>“The more we'll skin you!” finished a third.</p> + +<p>Ken ran into the passageway leading through College Hall.</p> + +<p>It was full of Sophs hurrying toward the door to see where the yells +came from. When Ken plunged into their midst some one recognized him +and burst out with the intelligence. At the same moment Ken's pursuers +banged through the swinging doors.</p> + +<p>A yell arose then in the constricted passageway that seemed to Ken to +raise College Hall from its foundation. It terrified him. Like an eel +he slipped through reaching arms and darted forward. Ken was heavy and +fast on his feet, and with fear lending him wings he made a run through +College Hall that would have been a delight to the football coach. For +Ken was not dodging any sophomores now. He had played his humiliating +part of dodger long enough. He knocked them right and left, and many a +surprised Soph he tumbled over. Reaching the farther door, he went +through out into the open.</p> + +<p>The path before him was clear now, and he made straight for the avenue. +It was several hundred yards distant, and he got a good start toward it +before the Sophs rolled like a roaring stream from the passage. Ken saw +other students running, and also men and boys out on the avenue; but +as they could not head him off he kept to his course. On that side of +the campus a high, narrow stairway, lined by railings, led up to the +sidewalk. When Ken reached it he found the steps covered with ice. He +slipped and fell three times in the ascent, while his frantic pursuers +gained rapidly.</p> + +<p>Ken mounted to the sidewalk, gave vent to a gasp of relief, and, +wheeling sharply, he stumbled over two boys carrying a bushel basket +of potatoes. When he saw the large, round potatoes a daring inspiration +flashed into his mind. Taking the basket from the boys he turned to the +head of the stairway.</p> + +<p>The bronze-haired Soph was half-way up the steps. His followers, twelve +or more, were climbing after him. Then a line of others stretched all +the way to College Hall.</p> + +<p>With a grim certainty of his mastery of the situation Ken threw a huge +potato at his leading pursuer. Fair and square on the bronze head it +struck with a sharp crack. Like a tenpin the Soph went down. He plumped +into the next two fellows, knocking them off their slippery footing. +The three fell helplessly and piled up their comrades in a dense wedge +half-way down the steps. If the Sophs had been yelling before, it was +strange to note how they were yelling now.</p> + +<p>Deliberately Ken fired the heavy missiles. They struck with sodden +thuds against the bodies of the struggling sophomores. A poor thrower +could not very well have missed that mark, and Ken Ward was remarkably +accurate. He had a powerful overhand swing, and the potatoes flew like +bullets. One wild-eyed Soph slipped out of the tangle to leap up the +steps. Ken, throwing rather low, hit him on the shin. He buckled and +dropped down with a blood-curdling yell. Another shook himself loose +and faced upward. A better-aimed shot took him in the shoulder. He gave +an exhibition of a high and lofty somersault. Then two more started up +abreast. The first Ken hit over the eye with a very small potato, which +popped like an explosive bullet and flew into bits. As far as effect +was concerned a Martini could not have caused a more beautiful fall. +Ken landed on the second fellow in the pit of the stomach with a very +large potato. There was a sound as of a suddenly struck bass-drum. +The Soph crumpled up over the railing, slid down, and fell among his +comrades, effectually blocking the stairway.</p> + +<p>For the moment Ken had stopped the advance. The sophomores had been +checked by one wild freshman. There was scarcely any doubt about Ken's +wildness. He had lost his hat; his dishevelled hair stood up like a +mane; every time he hurled a potato he yelled. But there was nothing +wild about his aim.</p> + +<p>All at once he turned his battery on the students gathering below +the crush, trying to find a way through the kicking, slipping mass +on the narrow stairs. He scattered them as if they had been quail. +Some ran out of range. Others dove for cover and tried to dodge. +This dodging brought gleeful howls from Ken.</p> + +<p>“Dodge, you Indian!” yelled Ken, as he threw. And seldom it was that +dodging was of any use. Then, coming to the end of his ammunition, +he surveyed the battle-field beneath him and, turning, ran across +the avenue and down a street. At the corner of the block he looked +back. There was one man coming, but he did not look like a student. +So Ken slackened his pace and bent his steps toward his boarding-house.</p> + +<p>“By George! I stole those potatoes!” he exclaimed, presently. “I wonder +how I can make that good.”</p> + +<p>Several times as he turned to look over his shoulder he saw the man he +had noticed at first. But that did not trouble him, for he was sure no +one else was following him. Ken reached his room exhausted by exertion +and excitement. He flung himself upon his bed to rest and calm his mind +so that he could think. If he had been in a bad light before, what was +his position now? Beyond all reasoning with, however, was the spirit +that gloried in his last stand.</p> + +<p>“By George!” he kept saying. “I wouldn't have missed that—not +for anything. They made my life a nightmare. I'll have to leave +college—go somewhere else—but I don't care.”</p> + +<p>Later, after dinner as he sat reading, he heard a door-bell ring, a +man's voice, then footsteps in the hall. Some one tapped on his door. +Ken felt a strange, cold sensation, which soon passed, and he spoke:</p> + +<p>“Come in.”</p> + +<p>The door opened to admit a short man with little, bright eyes sharp +as knives.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Kid,” he said. Then he leisurely removed his hat and overcoat +and laid them on the bed.</p> + +<p>Ken's fear of he knew not what changed to amazement. At least his +visitor did not belong to the faculty. There was something familiar +about the man, yet Ken could not place him.</p> + +<p>“Well up in your studies?” he asked, cordially. Then he seated himself, +put a hand on each knee, and deliberately and curiously studied Ken.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, pretty well up,” replied Ken. He did not know how to take +the man. There was a kindliness about him which relieved Ken, yet there +was also a hard scrutiny that was embarrassing.</p> + +<p>“All by your lonely here,” he said.</p> + +<p>“It is lonely,” replied Ken, “but—but I don't get on very well with +the students.”</p> + +<p>“Small wonder. Most of 'em are crazy.”</p> + +<p>He was unmistakably friendly. Ken kept wondering where he had seen him. +Presently the man arose, and, with a wide smile on his face, reached +over and grasped Ken's right arm.</p> + +<p>“How's the whip?”</p> + +<p>“What?” asked Ken.</p> + +<p>“The wing—your arm, Kid, your arm.”</p> + +<p>“Oh— Why, it's all right.”</p> + +<p>“It's not sore—not after peggin' a bushel of potatoes on a cold day?”</p> + +<p>Ken laughed and raised his arm up and down. “It's weak to-night, but +not sore.”</p> + +<p>“These boys with their India-rubber arms! It's youth, Kid, it's youth. +Say, how old are you?”</p> + +<p>“Sixteen.”</p> + +<p>“What! No more than that?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“How much do you weigh?”</p> + +<p>“About one hundred and fifty-six.”</p> + +<p>“I thought you had some beef back of that stunt of yours to-day. Say, +Kid, it was the funniest and the best thing I've seen at the university +in ten years—and I've seen some fresh boys do some stunts, I have. +Well... Kid, you've a grand whip—a great arm—and we're goin' to do +some stunts with it.”</p> + +<p>Ken felt something keen and significant in the very air.</p> + +<p>“A great arm! For what?... who are you?”</p> + +<p>“Say, I thought every boy in college knew me. I'm Arthurs.”</p> + +<p>“The baseball coach! Are you the baseball coach?” exclaimed Ken, +jumping up with his heart in his throat.</p> + +<p>“That's me, my boy; and I'm lookin' you up.”</p> + +<p>Ken suddenly choked with thronging emotions and sat down as limp as +a rag.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Kid, I'm after you strong. The way you pegged 'em to-day got me. +You've a great arm!”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="III">Prisoner of the Sophs</p> + + +<p>“But if—it's really true—that I've a great arm,” faltered Ken, +“it won't ever do me any good. I could never get on the varsity.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” demanded the coach. “I'll make a star of a youngster like +you, if you'll take coachin'. Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you don't know,” returned Ken, with a long face.</p> + +<p>“Say, you haven't struck me as a kid with no nerve. What's wrong +with you?”</p> + +<p>“It was I who slugged Captain Dale and caused that big rush between +the freshmen and sophomores. I've lived like a hermit ever since.”</p> + +<p>“So it was you who hit Dale. Well—that's bad,” replied Arthurs. +He got up with sober face and began to walk the floor. “I remember +the eye he had. It was a sight.... But Dale's a good fellow. He'll—”</p> + +<p>“I'd do anything on earth to make up for that,” burst out Ken.</p> + +<p>“Good! I'll tell you what we'll do,” said Arthurs, his face brightening. +“We'll go right down to Dale's room now. I'll fix it up with him somehow. +The sooner the better. I'm goin' to call the baseball candidates to the +cage soon.”</p> + +<p>They put on coats and hats and went out. Evidently the coach was thinking +hard, for he had nothing to say, but he kept a reassuring hand on Ken's +arm. They crossed the campus along the very path where Ken had fled from +the sophomores. The great circle of dormitories loomed up beyond with +lights shining in many windows. Arthurs led Ken through a court-yard and +into a wide, bright hallway. Their steps sounded with hollow click upon +the tiled floor. They climbed three flights of stairs, and then Arthurs +knocked at a door. Ken's heart palpitated. It was all so sudden; he did +not know what he was going to say or do. He did not care what happened +to him if Arthurs could only, somehow, put him right with the captain.</p> + +<p>A merry voice bade them enter. The coach opened the door and led Ken +across the threshold. Ken felt the glow of a warm, bright room, colorful +with pennants and posters, and cozy in its disorder. Then he saw Dale +and, behind him, several other students. There was a moment's silence in +which Ken heard his heart beat.</p> + +<p>Dale rose slowly from his seat, the look on his frank face changing +from welcome to intense amazement and then wild elation.</p> + +<p>“Whoop!” he shouted. “Lock the door! Worry Arthurs, this's your best +bet ever!”</p> + +<p>Dale dashed at the coach, hugged him frantically, then put his +head out of the door to bawl: “Sophs! Sophs! Sophs! Hurry call! +Number nine!... Oh, my!”</p> + +<p>Then he faced about, holding the door partially open. He positively +beamed upon the coach.</p> + +<p>“Say, Cap, what's eatin' you?” asked Arthurs. He looked dumfounded. +Ken hung to him desperately; he thought he knew what was coming. There +were hurried footsteps in the corridor and excited voices.</p> + +<p>“Worry, it's bully of you to bring this freshman here,” declared the +captain.</p> + +<p>“Well, what of it?” demanded the coach. “I looked him up to-night. +He's got a great arm, and will be good material for the team. He told +me about the little scrap you had in the lecture-room. He lost his +temper, and no wonder. Anyway, he's sorry, Cap, and I fetched him +around to see if you couldn't make it up. How about it, Kid?”</p> + +<p>“I'm sorry—awfully sorry, Captain Dale,” blurted out Ken. “I was mad +and scared, too—then you fellows hurt me. So I hit right out.... But +I'll take my medicine.”</p> + +<p>“So—oh!” ejaculated Dale. “Well, this beats the deuce! <span class="i">That's</span> why +you're here?”</p> + +<p>The door opened wide to admit half a dozen eager-faced youths.</p> + +<p>“Fellows, here's a surprise,” said Dale. “Young Ward, the freshman! +the elusive slugging freshman, fast on his feet, and, as Worry here +says, a lad with a great arm!”</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Ward</span>!” roared the Sophs in unison.</p> + +<p>“Hold on, fellows—wait—no rough-house yet—wait,” ordered Dale. +“Ward's here of his own free will!”</p> + +<p>Silence ensued after the captain spoke. While he turned to lock the +door the Sophs stared open-mouthed at Ken. Arthurs had a worried look, +and he kept his hand on Ken. Dale went to a table and began filling his +pipe. Then he fixed sharp, thoughtful eyes upon his visitors.</p> + +<p>“Worry, you say you brought this freshman here to talk baseball?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Sure I did,” blustered Arthurs. It was plain now where he got the name +that Dale called him. “What's in the wind, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>Dale then gravely spoke to Ken. “So you came here to see me? Sorry +you slugged me once? Want to make up for it somehow, because you think +you've a chance for the team, and don't want me to be sore on you? +That it?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly,” replied Ken. “I'd want to let you get square with me even +if you weren't the varsity captain.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you've more than squared yourself with me—by coming here. You'll +realize that presently. But don't you know what's happened, what the +freshmen have done?”</p> + +<p>“No; I don't.”</p> + +<p>“You haven't been near the university since this afternoon when you +pulled off the potato stunt?”</p> + +<p>“I should say I haven't.”</p> + +<p>This brought a laugh from the Sophs.</p> + +<p>“You were pretty wise,” went on Dale. “The Sophs didn't love you then. +But they're going to—understand?”</p> + +<p>Ken shook his head, too bewildered and mystified to reply.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, here's Giraffe Boswick. Look what you did to him!”</p> + +<p>Ken's glance followed the wave of Dale's hand and took in the tall, +bronze-haired sophomore who had led the chase that afternoon. Boswick +wore a huge discolored bruise over his left eye. It was hideous. Ken +was further sickened to recollect that Boswick was one of the varsity +pitchers. But the fellow was smiling amiably at Ken, as amiably as +one eye would permit. The plot thickened about Ken. He felt his legs +trembling under him.</p> + +<p>“Boswick, you forgive Ward, don't you—now?” continued Dale, with +a smile.</p> + +<p>“With all my heart!” exclaimed the pitcher. “To see him here would make +me forgive anything.”</p> + +<p>Coach Arthurs was ill at ease. He evidently knew students, and he did +not relish the mystery, the hidden meaning.</p> + +<p>“Say, you wise guys make me sick,” he called out, gruffly. “Here's a +kid that comes right among you. He's on the level, and more'n that, +he's game! Now, Cap, I fetched him here, and I won't stand for a whole +lot. Get up on your toes! Get it over!”</p> + +<p>“Sit down Worry, here's a cigar—light up,” said Dale, soothingly. +“It's all coming right, lovely, I say. Ward was game to hunt me up, +a thousand times gamer than he knows.... See here, Ward, where are +you from?”</p> + +<p>“I live a good long day's travel from the university,” answered Ken, +evasively.</p> + +<p>“I thought so. Did you ever hear of the bowl-fight, the great event +of the year here at Wayne University?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I've heard—read a little about it. But I don't know what it is.”</p> + +<p>“I'll tell you,” went on Dale. “There are a number of yearly rushes and +scrapes between the freshmen and sophomores, but the bowl-fight is the +one big meeting, the time-honored event. It has been celebrated here for +many years. It takes place on a fixed date. Briefly, here's what comes +off: The freshmen have the bowl in their keeping this year because they +won it in the last fight. They are to select one of their number, always +a scrappy fellow, and one honored by the class, and they call him the +bowl-man. A week before the fight, on a certain date, the freshmen hide +this bowl-man or protect him from the sophomores until the day of the +fight, when they all march to Grant field in fighting-togs. Should the +sophomores chance to find him and hold him prisoner until after the date +of the bowl-fight they win the bowl. The same applies also in case the +bowl is in possession of the sophomores. But for ten years neither class +has captured the other's bowl-man. So they have fought it out on the +field until the bowl was won.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what has all that got to do with me?” asked Ken. He felt curiously +light-headed.</p> + +<p>“It has a <span class="i">little</span> to do with you—hasn't it, fellows?” said Dale, in +slow, tantalizing voice.</p> + +<p>Worry Arthurs lost his worried look and began to smile and rub his hands.</p> + +<p>“Ward, look here,” added Dale, now speaking sharply. “You've been picked +for the bowl-man!”</p> + +<p>“Me—me?” stammered Ken.</p> + +<p>“No other. The freshmen were late in choosing a man this year. To-day, +after your stunt—holding up that bunch of sophomores—they had a meeting +in Carlton Club and picked you. Most of them didn't even know your name. +I'll bet the whole freshman class is hunting for you right now.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” queried Ken, weakly.</p> + +<p>“Why, I told you. The bowl-fight is only a week off—and here you are. +<span class="i">And here you'll stay until that date's past!</span>”</p> + +<p>Ken drew a quick breath. He began to comprehend. The sudden huzzahs of +Dale's companions gave him further enlightenment.</p> + +<p>“But, Captain Dale,” he said, breathlessly, “if it's so—if my class +has picked me—I can't throw them down. I don't know a soul in my +class. I haven't a friend. But I won't throw them down—not to be +forever free of dodging Sophs—not even to square myself with you.”</p> + +<p>“Ward, you're all right!” shouted Dale, his eyes shining.</p> + +<p>In the quiet moment that followed, with all the sophomores watching him +intently, Ken Ward instinctively felt that his measure had been taken.</p> + +<p>“I won't stay here,” said Ken, and for the first time his voice rang.</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, you will,” replied Dale, laughing.</p> + +<p>Quick as a cat Ken leaped for the door and got it unlocked and half open +before some one clutched him. Then Dale was on him close and hard. Ken +began to struggle. He was all muscle, and twice he broke from them.</p> + +<p>“His legs! Grab his legs! He's a young bull!”</p> + +<p>“We'll trim you now, Freshie!”</p> + +<p>“You potato-masher!”</p> + +<p>“Go for his wind!”</p> + +<p>Fighting and wrestling with all his might Ken went down under a half +dozen sophomores. Then Dale was astride his chest, and others were +sitting on his hands and feet.</p> + +<p>“Boys, don't hurt that arm!” yelled Worry Arthurs.</p> + +<p>“Ward, will you be good now and stop scrapping or shall we tie you?” +asked Dale. “You can't get away. The thing to do is to give your word +not to try. We want to make this easy for you. Your word of honor, now?”</p> + +<p>“Never!” cried Ken.</p> + +<p>“I knew you wouldn't,” said Dale. “We'll have to keep you under guard.”</p> + +<p>They let him get up. He was panting, and his nose was bleeding, and one +of his knuckles was skinned. That short struggle had been no joke. The +Sophs certainly meant to keep him prisoner. Still, he was made to feel +at ease. They could not do enough for him.</p> + +<p>“It's tough luck, Ward, that you should have fallen into our hands this +way,” said Dale. “But you couldn't help it. You will be kept in my rooms +until after the fifteenth. Meals will be brought you, and your books; +everything will be done for your comfort. Your whereabouts, of course, +will be a secret, and you will be closely watched. Worry, remember you +are bound to silence. And Ward, perhaps it wasn't an ill wind that blew +you here. You've had your last scrap with a Soph, that's sure. As for +what brought you here—it's more than square; and I'll say this: if you +can play ball as well as you can scrap, old Wayne has got a star.”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="IV">The Call for Candidates</p> + + +<p>There were five rooms in Dale's suite in the dormitory, and three +other sophomores shared them with him. They confined Ken in the end +room, where he was safely locked and guarded from any possible chance +to escape.</p> + +<p>For the first day or two it was irksome for Ken; but as he and his +captors grew better acquainted the strain eased up, and Ken began to +enjoy himself as he had not since coming to the university.</p> + +<p>He could not have been better provided for. His books were at hand, +and even notes of the lectures he was missing were brought to him. The +college papers and magazines interested him, and finally he was much +amused by an account of his mysterious disappearance. All in a day he +found himself famous. Then Dale and his room-mates were so friendly and +jolly that if his captivity had not meant the disgrace of the freshman +class, Ken would have rejoiced in it. He began to thaw out, though he +did not lose his backwardness. The life of the great university began +to be real to him. Almost the whole sophomore class, in squads of twos +and threes and sixes, visited Dale's rooms during that week. No Soph +wanted to miss a sight of a captive bowl-man. Ken felt so callow and +fresh in their presence that he scarcely responded to their jokes. +Worry Arthur's nickname of “Kid” vied with another the coach conferred +on Ken, and that was “Peg.” It was significant slang expressing the +little baseball man's baseball notion of Ken's throwing power.</p> + +<p>The evening was the most interesting time for Ken. There was always +something lively going on. He wondered when the boys studied. When +some of the outside students dropped in there were banjo and guitar +playing, college songs, and college gossip.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Peg, be a good fellow,” they said, and laughed at his refusal +to smoke or drink beer.</p> + +<p>“Molly!” mocked one.</p> + +<p>“Willy-boy!” added another.</p> + +<p>Ken was callow, young, and backward; but he had a temper, and this +kind of banter roused it easily. The red flamed into his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“I promised my mother I wouldn't smoke or drink or gamble while I +was in college,” he retorted, struggling with shame and anger. +“And I—I won't.”</p> + +<p>Dale stopped the good-natured chaff. “Fellows, stop guying Ward; +cut it out, I tell you. He's only a kid freshman, but he's liable +to hand you a punch, and if he does you'll remember it. Besides, +he's right.... Look here, Ward, you stick to that promise. It's a +good promise to stick to, and if you're going in for athletics it's +the best ever.”</p> + +<p>Worry Arthurs happened to be present on this evening, and he seconded +Dale in more forceful speech. “There's too much boozin' and smokin' +of them coffin nails goin' on in this college. It's none of my affair +except with the boys I'm coachin', and if I ketch any one breakin' my +rules after we go to the trainin'-table he'll sit on the bench. There's +Murray; why, he says there are fellows in college who could break records +if they'd train. Half of sprintin' or baseball or football is condition.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Worry, you and Mac always make a long face over things. Wayne has +won a few championships, hasn't she?”</p> + +<p>“The varsity ball team will be a frost this year, that's sure,” +replied Arthurs, gloomily.</p> + +<p>“How do you make that out?” demanded Dale, plainly nettled. “You've +hinted it before to me. Why won't we be stronger than last season? +Didn't we have a crackerjack team, the fastest that ever represented +old Wayne? Didn't we smother the small college teams and beat Place +twice, shut out Herne the first game, and play for a tie the second?”</p> + +<p>“You'll see, all right, all right,” replied Arthurs, gloomier than ever; +and he took his hat and went out.</p> + +<p>Dale slammed his cards down on the table.</p> + +<p>“Fellows, is it any wonder we call him Worry? Already he's begun to +fuss over the team. Ever since he's been here he has driven the baseball +captains and managers crazy. It's only his way, but it's so irritating. +He's a magnificent coach, and Wayne owes her great baseball teams to him. +But he's hard on captains. I see my troubles. The idea of this year's +team being a frost—with all the old stars back in college—with only +two positions to fill! And there are half a dozen cracks in college to +fight for these two positions—fellows I played against on the summer +nines last year. Worry's idea is ridiculous.”</p> + +<p>This bit of baseball talk showed Ken the obstacles in the way of a +freshman making the varsity team. What a small chance there would be +for him! Still he got a good deal of comfort out of Arthurs' interest +in him, and felt that he would be happy to play substitute this season, +and make the varsity in his sophomore year.</p> + +<p>The day of the bowl-fight passed, and Ken's captivity became history. The +biggest honor of the sophomore year went to Dale and his room-mates. Ken +returned to his department, where he was made much of, as he had brought +fame to a new and small branch of the great university. It was a pleasure +to walk the campus without fear of being pounced upon. Ken's dodging and +loneliness—perhaps necessary and curbing nightmares in the life of a +freshman—were things of the past. He made acquaintances, slowly lost +his backwardness, and presently found college life opening to him bright +and beautiful. Ken felt strongly about things. And as his self-enforced +exile had been lonely and bitter, so now his feeling that he was really +a part of the great university seemed almost too good to be true. He +began to get a glimmering of the meaning of his father's love for the +old college. Students and professors underwent some vague change in his +mind. He could not tell what, he did not think much about it, but there +was a warmer touch, a sense of something nearer to him.</p> + +<p>Then suddenly a blow fell upon the whole undergraduate body. It was a +thunderbolt. It affected every student, but Ken imagined it concerned +his own college fortunes more intimately. The athletic faculty barred +every member of the varsity baseball team! The year before the faculty +had advised and requested the players not to become members of the +summer baseball nines. Their wishes had not been heeded. Captain Dale +and his fast players had been much in demand by the famous summer nines. +Some of them went to the Orange Athletic Club, others to Richfield Springs, +others to Cape May, and Dale himself had captained the Atlantic City team.</p> + +<p>The action of the faculty was commended by the college magazine. +Even the students, though chafing under it, could not but acknowledge +its justice. The other universities had adopted such a rule, and Wayne +must fall in line. The objections to summer ball-playing were not few, +and the particular one was that it affected the amateur standing of +the college player. He became open to charges of professionalism. At +least, all his expenses were paid, and it was charged that usually he +was paid for his services.</p> + +<p>Ken's first feeling when he learned this news was one of blank dismay. +The great varsity team wiped off the slate! How Place and Herne would +humble old Wayne this year! Then the long, hard schedule, embracing +thirty games, at least one with every good team in the East—how would +an untried green team fare against that formidable array? Then Ken +suddenly felt ashamed of a selfish glee, for he was now sure of a place +on the varsity.</p> + +<p>For several days nothing else was talked about by the students. Whenever +Dale or his players appeared at Carlton Hall they were at once surrounded +by a sympathetic crowd. If it was a bitter blow to the undergraduates, +what was it to the members of the varsity? Their feeling showed in pale, +stern faces. It was reported about the campus that Murray and Arthurs +and Dale, with the whole team, went to the directors of the athletic +faculty and besought them to change or modify the decision. Both the +trainer and the coach, who had brought such glory to the university, +threatened to resign their places. The disgrace of a pitiably weak +team of freshmen being annihilated by minor colleges was eloquently +put before the directors. But the decision was final.</p> + +<p>One evening early in February Worry Arthurs called upon Ken. His face +was long, and his mustache drooped.</p> + +<p>“Kid, what do you think of 'em fat-heads on the faculty queerin' my +team?” he asked. “Best team I ever developed. Say, but the way they +could work the hit-and-run game! Any man on the team could hit to +right field when there was a runner goin' down from first.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe things will turn out all right,” suggested Ken, hopefully.</p> + +<p>Worry regarded his youthful sympathizer with scorn.</p> + +<p>“It takes two years to teach most college kids the rudiments of baseball. +Look at this year's schedule.” Worry produced a card and waved it at Ken. +“The hardest schedule Wayne ever had! And I've got to play a kid team.”</p> + +<p>Ken was afraid to utter any more of his hopes, and indeed he felt them +to be visionary.</p> + +<p>“The call for candidates goes out to-morrow,” went on the coach. “I'll +bet there'll be a mob at the cage. Every fool kid in the university will +think he's sure of a place. Now, Ward, what have you played?”</p> + +<p>“Everywhere; but infield mostly.”</p> + +<p>“Every kid has played the whole game. What position have you played most?”</p> + +<p>“Third base.”</p> + +<p>“Good! You've the arm for that. Well, I'm anxious to see you work, +but don't exert yourself in the cage. This is a tip. See! I'll be +busy weedin' out the bunch, and won't have time until we get out on +the field. You can run around the track every day, get your wind and +your legs right, hold in on your arm. The cage is cold. I've seen many +a good wing go to the bad there. But your chance looks good. College +baseball is different from any other kind. You might say it's played +with the heart. I've seen youngsters go in through grit and spirit, +love of playin' for their college, and beat out fellows who were their +superiors physically. Well, good-night.... Say, there's one more thing. +I forgot it. Are you up in your subjects?”</p> + +<p>“I surely am,” replied Ken. “I've had four months of nothing but study.”</p> + +<p>“The reason I ask is this: That faculty has made another rule, the +one-year residence rule, they call it. You have to pass your exams, +get your first year over, before you can represent any athletic club. +So, in case I can use you on the team, you would have to go up for your +exams two months or more ahead of time. That scare you?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit. I could pass mine right now,” answered Ken, confidently.</p> + +<p>“Kid, you and me are goin' to get along.... Well, good-night, and don't +forget what I said.”</p> + +<p>Ken was too full for utterance; he could scarcely mumble good-night to +the coach. He ran up-stairs three steps to the jump, and when he reached +his room he did a war dance and ended by standing on his head. When he +had gotten rid of his exuberance he sat down at once to write to his +brother Hal about it, and also his forest-ranger friend, Dick Leslie, +with whom he had spent an adventurous time the last summer.</p> + +<p>At Carlton Hall, next day, Ken saw a crowd of students before +the bulletin-board and, edging in, he read the following notice:</p> + +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote-cen">BASEBALL!</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote-cen">CALL FOR CANDIDATES FOR THE VARSITY BASEBALL TEAM</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote">The Athletic Directors of the University earnestly request every student who can play ball, or who +thinks he can, to present himself to Coach Arthurs at the Cage on Feb. 3rd.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote">There will be no freshman team this year, and a new team entirely will be chosen for the varsity. +Every student will have a chance. Applicants are requested to familiarize themselves with the new +eligibility rules.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="V">The Cage</p> + + +<p>Ken Ward dug down into his trunk for his old baseball suit and donned +it with strange elation. It was dirty and torn, and the shoes that went +with it were worn out, but Ken was thinking of what hard ball-playing +they represented. He put his overcoat on over his sweater, took up his +glove and sallied forth.</p> + +<p>A thin coating of ice and snow covered the streets. Winter still +whistled in the air. To Ken in his eagerness spring seemed a long +way off. On his way across the campus he saw strings of uniformed +boys making for Grant Field, and many wearing sweaters over their +every-day clothes. The cage was situated at one end of the field +apart from the other training-quarters. When Ken got there he found +a mob of players crowding to enter the door of the big barn-like +structure. Others were hurrying away. Near the door a man was taking +up tickets like a doorkeeper of a circus, and he kept shouting: +“Get your certificates from the doctor. Every player must pass a +physical examination. Get your certificates.”</p> + +<p>Ken turned somewhat in disgust at so much red tape and he jostled into +a little fellow, almost knocking him over.</p> + +<p>“Wull! Why don't you fall all over me?” growled this amiable individual. +“For two cents I'd hand you one.”</p> + +<p>The apology on Ken's lips seemed to halt of its own accord.</p> + +<p>“Sorry I haven't any change in these clothes,” returned Ken. He saw a +wiry chap, older than he was, but much smaller, and of most aggressive +front. He had round staring eyes, a protruding jaw, and his mouth turned +down at the corners. He wore a disreputable uniform and a small green +cap over one ear.</p> + +<p>“Aw! don't get funny!” he replied.</p> + +<p>Ken moved away muttering to himself: “That fellow's a grouch.” Much +to his amazement, when he got to the training-house, Ken found that he +could not get inside because so many players were there ahead of him. +After waiting an hour or more he decided he could not have his physical +examination at that time, and he went back to the cage. The wide door +was still blocked with players, but at the other end of the building +Ken found an entrance. He squeezed into a crowd of students and worked +forward until stopped by a railing.</p> + +<p>Ken was all eyes and breathless with interest. The cage was a huge, +open, airy room, lighted by many windows, and, with the exception +of the platform where he stood, it was entirely enclosed by heavy +netting. The floor was of bare ground well raked and loosened to +make it soft. This immense hall was full of a motley crowd of +aspiring ball-players.</p> + +<p>Worry Arthurs, with his head sunk in the collar of his overcoat, and +his shoulders hunched up as if he was about to spring upon something, +paced up and down the rear end of the cage. Behind him a hundred or +more players in line slowly marched toward the slab of rubber which +marked the batting position. Ken remembered that the celebrated coach +always tried out new players at the bat first. It was his belief that +batting won games.</p> + +<p>“Bunt one and hit one!” he yelled to the batters.</p> + +<p>From the pitcher's box a lanky individual was trying to locate the +plate. Ken did not need a second glance to see that this fellow was +no pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Stop posin', and pitch!” yelled Arthurs.</p> + +<p>One by one the batters faced the plate, swung valiantly or wildly at +balls and essayed bunts. Few hit the ball out and none made a creditable +bunt. After their turn at bat they were ordered to the other end of the +cage, where they fell over one another trying to stop the balls that +were hit. Every few moments the coach would yell for one of them, any +one, to take a turn at pitching. Ken noticed that Arthurs gave a sharp +glance at each new batter, and one appeared to be sufficient. More and +more ambitious players crowded into the cage, until there were so many +that batted balls rarely missed hitting some one.</p> + +<p>Presently Ken Ward awoke from his thrilling absorption in the scene to +note another side of it. The students around him were making game of +the players.</p> + +<p>“What a bunch!”</p> + +<p>“Look at that fuzzy gosling with the yellow pants!”</p> + +<p>“Keep your shanks out of the way, Freshie!”</p> + +<p>“Couldn't hit a balloon!”</p> + +<p>Whenever a batter hit a ball into the crowd of dodging players down +the cage these students howled with glee. Ken discovered that he was +standing near Captain Dale and other members of the barred varsity.</p> + +<p>“Say, Dale, how do the candidates shape up?” asked a student.</p> + +<p>“This is a disgrace to Wayne,” declared Dale, bitterly. “I never saw +such a mob of spindle-legged kids in my life. Look at them! Scared to +death! That fellow never swung at a ball before—that one never heard +of a bunt—they throw like girls—Oh! this is sickening, fellows. I see +where Worry goes to his grave this year and old Wayne gets humbled by +one-horse colleges.”</p> + +<p>Ken took one surprised glance at the captain he had admired so much +and then he slipped farther over in the crowd. Perhaps Dale had spoken +truth, yet somehow it jarred upon Ken's sensitive nature. The thing +that affected Ken most was the earnestness of the uniformed boys trying +their best to do well before the great coach. Some were timid, uncertain; +others were rash and over-zealous. Many a ball cracked off a player's +knee or wrist, and more than once Ken saw a bloody finger. It was cold +in the cage. Even an ordinarily hit ball must have stung the hands, +and the way a hard grounder cracked was enough to excite sympathy among +those scornful spectators, if nothing more. But they yelled in delight +at every fumble, at everything that happened. Ken kept whispering to +himself: “I can't see the fun in it. I can't!”</p> + +<p>Arthurs dispensed with the bunting and ordered one hit each for +the batters. “Step up and hit!” he ordered, hoarsely. “Don't be +afraid—never mind that crowd—step into the ball and swing natural.... +Next! Hurry, boys!”</p> + +<p>Suddenly a deep-chested student yelled out with a voice that drowned +every other sound.</p> + +<p>“Hard luck, Worry! No use! You'll never find a hitter among those misfits!”</p> + +<p>The coach actually leaped up in his anger and his face went from crimson +to white. Ken thought it was likely that he recognized the voice.</p> + +<p>“You knocker! You knocker!” he cried. “That's a fine college spirit, +ain't it? You're a fine lot of students, I don't think. Now shut up, +every one of you, or I'll fire you out of the cage.... And right here +at the start you knockers take this from me—I'll find more than one +hitter among those kids!”</p> + +<p>A little silence fell while the coach faced that antagonistic crowd +of spectators. Ken was amazed the second time, and now because of the +intensity of feeling that seemed to hang in the air. Ken felt a warm +rush go over him, and that moment added greatly to his already strong +liking for Worry Arthurs.</p> + +<p>Then the coach turned to his work, the batting began again, and the +crack of the ball, the rush of feet, the sharp cries of the players +mingled once more with the laughter and caustic wit of the unsympathetic +audience.</p> + +<p>Ken Ward went back to his room without having removed his overcoat. +He was thoughtful that night and rebellious against the attitude of +the student body. A morning paper announced the fact that over three +hundred candidates had presented themselves to Coach Arthurs. It went +on to say that the baseball material represented was not worth considering +and that old Wayne's varsity team must be ranked with those of the +fifth-rate colleges. This, following Ken's experience at the cage on +the first day, made him angry and then depressed. The glamour of the +thing seemed to fade away. Ken lost the glow, the exhilaration of his +first feelings. Everybody took a hopeless view of Wayne's baseball +prospects. Ken Ward, however, was not one to stay discouraged long, +and when he came out of his gloom it was with his fighting spirit +roused. Once and for all he made up his mind to work heart and soul +for his college, to be loyal to Arthurs, to hope and believe in the +future of the new varsity, whether or not he was lucky enough to win +a place upon it.</p> + +<p>Next day, going early to the training-quarters, he took his place +in a squad waiting for the physical examination. It was a wearisome +experience. At length Ken's turn came with two other players, one of +whom he recognized as the sour-complexioned fellow of the day before.</p> + +<p>“Wull, you're pretty fresh,” he said to Ken as they went in. He had a +most exasperating manner.</p> + +<p>“Say, I don't like you a whole lot,” retorted Ken.</p> + +<p>Then a colored attendant ushered them into a large room in which were +several men. The boys were stripped to the waist.</p> + +<p>“Come here, Murray,” said the doctor. “There's some use in looking +these boys over, particularly this husky youngster.”</p> + +<p>A tall man in a white sweater towered over Ken. It was the famous +trainer. He ran his hands over Ken's smooth skin and felt of the +muscles.</p> + +<p>“Can you run?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“Are you fast?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>Further inquiries brought from Ken his name, age, weight, that he had +never been ill, had never used tobacco or intoxicating drinks.</p> + +<p>“Ward, eh? ‘Peg’ Ward,” said Murray, smiling. “Worry Arthurs has the +call on you—else, my boy, I'd whisper football in your ear. Mebbe I +will, anyhow, if you keep up in your studies. That'll do for you.”</p> + +<p>Ken's companions also won praise from the trainer. They gave their +names as Raymond and Weir. The former weighed only one hundred and +twenty-two, but he was a knot of muscles. The other stood only five +feet, but he was very broad and heavy, his remarkably compact build +giving an impression of great strength. Both replied in the negative +to the inquiries as to use of tobacco or spirits.</p> + +<p>“Boys, that's what we like to hear,” said the doctor. “You three ought +to pull together.”</p> + +<p>Ken wondered what the doctor would have said if he had seen the way +these three boys glared at each other in the dressing-room. And he +wondered, too, what was the reason for such open hostility. The answer +came to him in the thought that perhaps they were both trying for the +position he wanted on the varsity. Most likely they had the same idea +about him. That was the secret of little Raymond's pugnacious front and +Weir's pompous air; and Ken realized that the same reason accounted for +his own attitude toward them. He wanted very much to tell Raymond that +he was a little grouch and Weir that he looked like a puffed-up toad. +All the same Ken was not blind to Weir's handsome appearance. The +sturdy youngster had an immense head, a great shock of bright brown +hair, flashing gray eyes, and a clear bronze skin.</p> + +<p>“They'll both make the team, I'll bet,” thought Ken. “They look it. +I hope I don't have to buck against them.” Then as they walked toward +the cage Ken forced himself to ask genially: “Raymond, what're you +trying for? And you, Weir?”</p> + +<p>“Wull, if it's any of your fresh business, I'm not <span class="i">trying</span> for any +place. I'm going to play infield. You can carry my bat,” replied Raymond, +sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“Much obliged,” retorted Ken, “I'm not going to substitute. I've a +corner on that varsity infield myself.”</p> + +<p>Weir glanced at them with undisguised disdain. “You can save yourselves +useless work by not trying for my position. I intend to play infield.”</p> + +<p>“Wull, puff-up, now, puff-up!” growled Raymond.</p> + +<p>Thus the three self-appointed stars of the varsity bandied words +among themselves as they crossed the field. At the cage door they +became separated to mingle with the pushing crowd of excited boys +in uniforms.</p> + +<p>By dint of much squeezing and shoulder-work Ken got inside the cage. +He joined the squad in the upper end and got in line for the batting. +Worry Arthurs paced wildly to and fro yelling for the boys to hit. A +dense crowd of students thronged the platform and laughed, jeered, and +stormed at the players. The cage was in such an uproar that Arthurs +could scarcely be heard. Watching from the line Ken saw Weir come to +bat and stand aggressively and hit the ball hard. It scattered the flock +of fielders. Then Raymond came along, and, batting left-handed, did +likewise. Arthurs stepped forward and said something to both. After +Ken's turn at bat the coach said to him: “Get out of here. Go run round +the track. Do it every day. Don't come back until Monday.”</p> + +<p>As Ken hurried out he saw and felt the distinction with which he was +regarded by the many players whom he crowded among in passing. When +he reached the track he saw Weir, Raymond, and half a dozen other +fellows going round at a jog-trot. Weir was in the lead, setting the +pace. Ken fell in behind.</p> + +<p>The track was the famous quarter-mile track upon which Murray trained +his sprinters. When Ken felt the spring of the cinder-path in his feet, +the sensation of buoyancy, the eager wildfire pride that flamed over +him, he wanted to break into headlong flight. The first turn around the +track was delight; the second pleasure in his easy stride; the third +brought a realization of distance. When Ken had trotted a mile he was +not tired, he still ran easily, but he began to appreciate that his +legs were not wings. The end of the second mile found him sweating +freely and panting.</p> + +<p>Two miles were enough for the first day. Ken knew it and he began to +wonder why the others, especially Weir, did not know it. But Weir jogged +on, his head up, his hair flying, as if he had not yet completed his +first quarter. The other players stretched out behind him. Ken saw +Raymond's funny little green cap bobbing up and down, and it made him +angry. Why could not the grouch get a decent cap, anyway?</p> + +<p>At the end of the third mile Ken began to labor. His feet began to +feel weighted, his legs to ache, his side to hurt. He was wringing wet; +his skin burned; his breath whistled. But he kept doggedly on. It had +become a contest now. Ken felt instinctively that every runner would +not admit he had less staying power than the others. Ken declared to +himself that he could be as bull-headed as any of them. Still to see +Weir jogging on steady and strong put a kind of despair on Ken. For +every lap of the fourth mile a runner dropped out, and at the half of +the fifth only Weir, Raymond, and Ken kept to the track.</p> + +<p>Ken hung on gasping at every stride. He was afraid his heart would burst. +The pain in his side was as keen as a knife thrust. His feet were lead. +Every rod he felt must be his last, yet spurred on desperately, and +he managed to keep at the heels of the others. It might kill him, +but he would not stop until he dropped. Raymond was wagging along +ready to fall any moment, and Weir was trotting slowly with head down. +On the last lap of the fifth mile they all stopped as by one accord. +Raymond fell on the grass; Ken staggered to a bench, and Weir leaned +hard against the fence. They were all blowing like porpoises and +regarded each other as mortal enemies. Weir gazed grandly at the +other two; Raymond glowered savagely at him and then at Ken; and +Ken in turn gave them withering glances. Without a word the three +contestants for a place on the varsity then went their several ways.</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="VI">Out on the Field</p> + + +<p>When Ken presented himself at the cage on the following Monday it was +to find that Arthurs had weeded out all but fifty of the candidates. +Every afternoon for a week the coach put these players through batting +and sliding practice, then ordered them out to run around the track. +On the next Monday only twenty-five players were left, and as the number +narrowed down the work grew more strenuous, the rivalry keener, and the +tempers of the boys more irascible.</p> + +<p>Ken discovered it was work and not by any means pleasant work. He +fortified himself by the thought that the pleasure and glory, the +real play, was all to come as a reward. Worry Arthurs drove them +relentlessly. Nothing suited him; not a player knew how to hold a +bat, to stand at the plate, to slide right, or to block a ground ball.</p> + +<p>“Don't hit with your left hand on top—unless you're left-handed. +Don't grip the end of the bat. There! Hold steady now, step out and +into the ball, and swing clean and level. If you're afraid of bein' +hit by the ball, get out of here!”</p> + +<p>It was plain to Ken that not the least of Arthurs' troubles was the +incessant gibing of the students on the platform. There was always a +crowd watching the practice, noisy, scornful, abusive. They would never +recover from the shock of having that seasoned champion varsity barred +out of athletics. Every once in a while one of them would yell out: +“Wait, Worry! oh! Worry, wait till the old varsity plays your yanigans!” +And every time the coach's face would burn. But he had ceased to talk +back to the students. Besides, the athletic directors were always +present. They mingled with the candidates and talked baseball to them +and talked to Arthurs. Some of them might have played ball once, but +they did not talk like it. Their advice and interference served only +to make the coach's task harder.</p> + +<p>Another Monday found only twenty players in the squad. That day Arthurs +tried out catchers, pitchers, and infielders. He had them all throwing, +running, fielding, working like Trojans. They would jump at his yell, +dive after the ball, fall over it, throw it anywhere but in the right +direction, run wild, and fight among themselves. The ever-flowing +ridicule from the audience was anything but a stimulus. So much of +it coming from the varsity and their adherents kept continually in the +minds of the candidates their lack of skill, their unworthiness to +represent the great university in such a popular sport as baseball. So +that even if there were latent ability in any of the candidates no one +but the coach could see it. And often he could not conceal his disgust +and hopelessness.</p> + +<p>“Battin' practice!” he ordered, sharply. “Two hits and a bunt to-day. +Get a start on the bunt and dig for first. Hustle now!”</p> + +<p>He placed one player to pitch to the hitters, another to catch, and as +soon as the hitters had their turn they took to fielding. Two turns for +each at bat left the coach more than dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>“You're all afraid of the ball,” he yelled. “This ain't no dodgin' game. +Duck your nut if the ball's goin' to hit you, but stop lookin' for it. +Forget it. Another turn now. I'm goin' to umpire. Let's see if you know +the difference between a ball and a strike.”</p> + +<p>He changed the catcher and, ordering Ken to the pitcher's box, he +stepped over behind him. “Peg,” he said, speaking low, “you're not +tryin' for pitcher, I know, but you've got speed and control and I +want you to peg 'em a few. Mind now, easy with your arm. By that +I mean hold in, don't whip it. And you peg 'em as near where I say +as you can; see?”</p> + +<p>As the players, one after another, faced the box, the coach kept saying +to Ken: “Drive that fellow away from the plate... give this one a low +ball... now straight over the pan. Say, Peg, you've got a nice ball +there... put a fast one under this fellow's chin.”</p> + +<p>“Another turn, now, boys!” he yelled. “I tell you—<span class="i">stand up to the +plate!</span>” Then he whispered to Ken. “Hit every one of 'em! Peg 'em now, +any place.”</p> + +<p>“Hit them?” asked Ken, amazed.</p> + +<p>“That's what I said.”</p> + +<p>“But—Mr. Arthurs—”</p> + +<p>“See here, Peg. Don't talk back to me. Do as I say. We'll peg a little +nerve into this bunch. Now I'll go back of the plate and make a bluff.”</p> + +<p>Arthurs went near to the catcher's position. Then he said: “Now, +fellows, Ward's pretty wild and I've told him to speed up a few. +Stand right up and step into 'em.”</p> + +<p>The first batter was Weir. Ken swung easily and let drive. Straight as +a string the ball sped for the batter. Like a flash he dropped flat in +the dust and the ball just grazed him. It was a narrow escape. Weir +jumped up, his face flaring, his hair on end, and he gazed hard at Ken +before picking up the bat.</p> + +<p>“Batter up!” ordered the coach. “Do you think this's a tea-party?”</p> + +<p>Weir managed by quick contortions to get through his time at bat +without being hit. Three players following him were not so lucky.</p> + +<p>“Didn't I say he was wild?” yelled the coach. “Batter up, now!”</p> + +<p>The next was little Raymond. He came forward cautiously, eying Ken +with disapproval. Ken could not resist putting on a little more steam, +and the wind of the first ball whipped off Raymond's green cap. Raymond +looked scared and edged away from the plate, and as the second ball +came up he stepped wide with his left foot.</p> + +<p>“Step into the ball,” said the coach. “Don't pull away. Step in or +you'll never hit.”</p> + +<p>The third ball cracked low down on Raymond's leg.</p> + +<p>“Oh!—Oh!—Oh!” he howled, beginning to hop and hobble about the cage.</p> + +<p>“Next batter!” called out Arthurs.</p> + +<p>And so it went on until the most promising player in the cage came to +bat. This was Graves, a light-haired fellow, tall, built like a wedge. +He had more confidence than any player in the squad and showed up well +in all departments of the game. Moreover, he was talky, aggressive, +and more inclined to be heard and felt. He stepped up and swung his +bat at Ken.</p> + +<p>“You wild freshman! If you hit me!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Ken Ward had not fallen in love with any of his rivals for places on +the team, but he especially did not like Graves. He did not stop to +consider the reason of it at the moment, still he remembered several +tricks Graves had played, and he was not altogether sorry for the +coach's order. Swinging a little harder, Ken threw straight at Graves.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Wham!</span>” The ball struck him fair on the hip. Limping away from +the plate he shook his fist at Ken.</p> + +<p>“Batter up!” yelled Arthurs. “A little more speed now, Peg. You see it +ain't nothin' to get hit. Why, that's in the game. It don't hurt much. +I never cared when I used to get hit. Batter up!”</p> + +<p>Ken sent up a very fast ball, on the outside of the plate. The batter +swung wide, and the ball, tipping the bat, glanced to one side and +struck Arthurs in the stomach with a deep sound.</p> + +<p>Arthurs' round face went red; he gurgled and gasped for breath; he was +sinking to his knees when the yelling and crowing of the students on +the platform straightened him up. He walked about a few minutes, then +ordered sliding practice.</p> + +<p>The sliding-board was brought out. It was almost four feet wide and +twenty long and covered with carpet.</p> + +<p>“Run hard, boys, and don't let up just before you slide. Keep your +speed and dive. Now at it!”</p> + +<p>A line of players formed down the cage. The first one dashed forward +and plunged at the board, hitting it with a bang. The carpet was +slippery and he slid off and rolled in the dust. The second player +leaped forward and, sliding too soon, barely reached the board. One +by one the others followed.</p> + +<p>“Run fast now!” yelled the coach. “Don't flinch.... Go down hard +and slide... light on your hands... keep your heads up... slide!”</p> + +<p>This feature of cage-work caused merriment among the onlookers. That +sliding-board was a wonderful and treacherous thing. Most players slid +off it as swift as a rocket. Arthurs kept them running so fast and so +close together that at times one would shoot off the board just as the +next would strike it. They sprawled on the ground, rolled over, and +rooted in the dust. One skinned his nose on the carpet; another slid +the length of the board on his ear. All the time they kept running and +sliding, the coach shouted to them, and the audience roared with laughter. +But it was no fun for the sliders. Raymond made a beautiful slide, and +Graves was good, but all the others were ludicrous.</p> + +<p>It was a happy day for Ken, and for all the candidates, when the coach +ordered them out on the field. This was early in March. The sun was +bright, the frost all out of the ground, and a breath of spring was in +the air. How different it was from the cold, gloomy cage! Then the mocking +students, although more in evidence than before, were confined to the +stands and bleachers, and could not so easily be heard. But the presence +of the regular varsity team, practising at the far end of Grant Field, +had its effect on the untried players.</p> + +<p>The coach divided his players into two nines and had them practise +batting first, then fielding, and finally started them in a game, +with each candidate playing the position he hoped to make on the +varsity.</p> + +<p>It was a weird game. The majority of the twenty candidates displayed +little knowledge of baseball. School-boys on the commons could have +beaten them. They were hooted and hissed by the students, and before +half the innings were played the bleachers and stands were empty. That +was what old Wayne's students thought of Arthurs' candidates.</p> + +<p>In sharp contrast to most of them, Weir, Raymond, and Graves showed +they had played the game somewhere. Weir at short-stop covered ground +well, but he could not locate first base. Raymond darted here and there +quick as a flash, and pounced upon the ball like a huge frog. Nothing +got past him, but he juggled the ball. Graves was a finished and +beautiful fielder; he was easy, sure, yet fast, and his throw from +third to first went true as a line.</p> + +<p>Graves's fine work accounted for Ken Ward's poor showing. Both were +trying for third base, and when Ken once saw his rival play out on the +field he not only lost heart and became confused, but he instinctively +acknowledged that Graves was far his superior. After all his hopes and +the kind interest of the coach it was a most bitter blow. Ken had never +played so poor a game. The ball blurred in his tear-wet eyes and looked +double. He did not field a grounder. He muffed foul flies and missed +thrown balls. It did not occur to him that almost all of the players +around him were in the same boat. He could think of nothing but the +dashing away of his hopes. What was the use of trying? But he kept +trying, and the harder he tried the worse he played. At the bat he +struck out, fouled out, never hit the ball square at all. Graves got +two well-placed hits to right field. Then when Ken was in the field +Graves would come down the coaching line and talk to him in a voice no +one else could hear.</p> + +<p>“You've got a swell chance to make this team, you have, <span class="i">not!</span> Third +base is my job, Freshie. Why, you tow-head, you couldn't play marbles. +You butter-finger, can't you stop anything? You can't even play sub on +this team. Remember, Ward, I said I'd get you for hitting me that day. +You hit me with a potato once, too. I'll chase you off this team.”</p> + +<p>For once Ken's spirit was so crushed and humbled that he could not say +a word to his rival. He even felt he deserved it all. When the practice +ended, and he was walking off the field with hanging head, trying to +bear up under the blow, he met Arthurs.</p> + +<p>“Hello! Peg,” said the coach, “I'm going your way.”</p> + +<p>Ken walked along feeling Arthurs' glance upon him, but he was ashamed +to raise his head.</p> + +<p>“Peg, you were up in the air to-day—way off—you lost your nut.”</p> + +<p>He spoke kindly and put his hand on Ken's arm. Ken looked up to see +that the coach's face was pale and tired, with the characteristic +worried look more marked than usual.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I was,” replied Ken, impulsively. “I can play better than I did +to-day—but—Mr. Arthurs, I'm not in Graves's class as a third-baseman. +I know it.”</p> + +<p>Ken said it bravely, though there was a catch in his voice. The coach +looked closely at him.</p> + +<p>“So you're sayin' a good word for Graves, pluggin' his game.”</p> + +<p>“I'd love to make the team, but old Wayne must have the best players +you can get.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, I said once you and me were goin' to get along. I said also that +college baseball is played with the heart. You lost your heart. So did +most of the kids. Well, it ain't no wonder. This's a tryin' time. I'm +playin' them against each other, and no fellow knows where he's at. +Now, I've seen all along that you weren't a natural infielder. I played +you at third to-day to get that idea out of your head. To-morrow I'll +try you in the outfield. You ain't no quitter, Peg.”</p> + +<p>Ken hurried to his room under the stress of a complete revulsion of +feeling. His liking for the coach began to grow into something more. +It was strange to Ken what power a few words from Arthurs had to renew +his will and hope and daring. How different Arthurs was when not on the +field. There he was stern and sharp. Ken could not study that night, +and he slept poorly. His revival of hope did not dispel his nervous +excitement.</p> + +<p>He went out into Grant Field next day fighting himself. When in +the practice Arthurs assigned him to a right-field position, he +had scarcely taken his place when he became conscious of a queer +inclination to swallow often, of a numbing tight band round his +chest. He could not stand still; his hands trembled; there was a +mist before his eyes. His mind was fixed upon himself and upon the +other five outfielders trying to make the team. He saw the players +in the infield pace their positions restlessly, run without aim when +the ball was hit or thrown, collide with each other, let the ball go +between their hands and legs, throw wildly, and sometimes stand as if +transfixed when they ought to have been in action. But all this was +not significant to Ken. He saw everything that happened, but he thought +only that he must make a good showing; he must not miss any flies, or +let a ball go beyond him. He absolutely must do the right thing. The +air of Grant Field was charged with intensity of feeling, and Ken +thought it was all his own. His baseball fortune was at stake, and +he worked himself in such a frenzy that if a ball had been batted +in his direction he might not have seen it at all. Fortunately none +came his way.</p> + +<p>The first time at bat he struck out ignominiously, poking weakly +at the pitcher's out-curves. The second time he popped up a little +fly. On the next trial the umpire called him out on strikes. At his +last chance Ken was desperate. He knew the coach placed batting before +any other department of the game. Almost sick with the torture of the +conflicting feelings, Ken went up to the plate and swung blindly. To +his amaze he cracked a hard fly to left-centre, far between the fielders. +Like a startled deer Ken broke into a run. He turned first base and saw +that he might stretch the hit into a three-bagger. He knew he could run, +and never had he so exerted himself. Second base sailed under him, and +he turned in line for the third. Watching Graves, he saw him run for the +base and stand ready to catch the throw-in.</p> + +<p>Without slacking his speed in the least Ken leaped into the air headlong +for the base. He heard the crack of the ball as it hit Graves's glove. +Then with swift scrape on hands and breast he was sliding in the dust. +He stopped suddenly as if blocked by a stone wall. Something hard struck +him on the head. A blinding light within his brain seemed to explode +into glittering slivers. A piercing pain shot through him. Then from +darkness and a great distance sounded a voice:</p> + +<p>“Ward, I said I'd get you!”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="VII">Annihilation</p> + + +<p>That incident put Ken out of the practice for three days. He had a +bruise over his ear as large as a small apple. Ken did not mind the +pain nor the players' remarks that he had a swelled head anyway, but +he remembered with slow-gathering wrath Graves's words: “I said I'd +get you!”</p> + +<p>He remembered also Graves's reply to a question put by the coach. +“I was only tagging him. I didn't mean to hurt him.” That rankled +inside Ken. He kept his counsel, however, even evading a sharp +query put by Arthurs, and as much as it was possible he avoided +the third-baseman.</p> + +<p>Hard practice was the order of every day, and most of it was batting. +The coach kept at the candidates everlastingly, and always his cry was: +“Toe the plate, left foot a little forward, step into the ball and +swing!” At the bat Ken made favorable progress because the coach was +always there behind him with encouraging words; in the field, however, +he made a mess of it, and grew steadily worse.</p> + +<p>The directors of the Athletic Association had called upon the old +varsity to go out and coach the new aspirants for college fame. +The varsity had refused. Even the players of preceding years, what +few were in or near the city, had declined to help develop Wayne's +stripling team. But some of the older graduates, among them several +of the athletic directors, appeared on the field. When Arthurs saw +them he threw up his hands in rage and despair. That afternoon Ken +had three well-meaning but old-fashioned ball-players coach him in +the outfield. He had them one at a time, which was all that saved +him from utter distraction. One told him to judge a fly by the sound +when the ball was hit. Another told him to play in close, and when the +ball was batted to turn and run with it. The third said he must play +deep and sprint in for the fly. Then each had different ideas as to +how batters should be judged, about throwing to bases, about backing +up the other fielders. Ken's bewilderment grew greater and greater. +He had never heard of things they advocated, and he began to think he +did not know anything about the game. And what made his condition of +mind border on imbecility was a hurried whisper from Arthurs between +innings: “Peg, don't pay the slightest attention to 'em fat-head +grad. coaches.”</p> + +<p>Practice days succeeding that were worse nightmares to Ken Ward than +the days he had spent in constant fear of the sophomores. It was a +terribly feverish time of batting balls, chasing balls, and of having +dinned into his ears thousands of orders, rules of play, talks on +college spirit in athletics—all of which conflicted so that it was +meaningless to him. During this dark time one ray of light was the +fact that Arthurs never spoke a sharp word to him. Ken felt vaguely +that he was whirling in some kind of a college athletic chaos, out of +which he would presently emerge.</p> + +<p>Toward the close of March the weather grew warm, the practice field +dried up, and baseball should have been a joy to Ken. But it was not. +At times he had a shameful wish to quit the field for good, but he had +not the courage to tell the coach. The twenty-fifth, the day scheduled +for the game with the disgraced varsity team, loomed closer and closer. +Its approach was a fearful thing for Ken. Every day he cast furtive +glances down the field to where the varsity held practice. Ken had +nothing to say; he was as glum as most of the other candidates, but +he had heard gossip in the lecture-rooms, in the halls, on the street, +everywhere, and it concerned this game. What would the old varsity do +to Arthurs' new team? Curiosity ran as high as the feeling toward the +athletic directors. Resentment flowed from every source. Ken somehow got +the impression that he was blamable for being a member of the coach's +green squad. So Ken Ward fluctuated between two fears, one as bad as +the other—that he would not be selected to play, and the other that he +would be selected. It made no difference. He would be miserable if not +chosen, and if he was—how on earth would he be able to keep his knees +from wobbling? Then the awful day dawned.</p> + +<p>Coach Arthurs met all his candidates at the cage. He came late, he +explained, because he wanted to keep them off the field until time for +practice. To-day he appeared more grave than worried, and where the boys +expected a severe lecture, he simply said: “I'll play as many of you as +I can. Do your best, that's all. Don't mind what these old players say. +They were kids once, though they seem to have forgotten it. Try to learn +from them.”</p> + +<p>It was the first time the candidates had been taken upon the regular +diamond of Grant Field. Ken had peeped in there once to be impressed by +the beautiful level playground, and especially the magnificent turreted +grand-stand and the great sweeping stretches of bleachers. Then they had +been empty; now, with four thousand noisy students and thousands of other +spectators besides, they stunned him. He had never imagined a crowd coming +to see the game.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Arthurs had not expected it either, for Ken heard him mutter grimly +to himself. He ordered practice at once, and called off the names of those +he had chosen to start the game. As one in a trance Ken Ward found himself +trotting out to right field.</p> + +<p>A long-rolling murmur that was half laugh, half taunt, rose from the +stands. Then it quickly subsided. From his position Ken looked for +the players of the old varsity, but they had not yet come upon the +field. Of the few balls batted to Ken in practice he muffed only one, +and he was just beginning to feel that he might acquit himself creditably +when the coach called the team in. Arthurs had hardly given his new +players time enough to warm up, but likewise they had not had time +to make any fumbles.</p> + +<p>All at once a hoarse roar rose from the stands, then a thundering +clatter of thousands of feet as the students greeted the appearance +of the old varsity. It was applause that had in it all the feeling of +the undergraduates for the championship team, many of whom they considered +had been unjustly barred by the directors. Love, loyalty, sympathy, +resentment—all pealed up to the skies in that acclaim. It rolled out +over the heads of Arthurs' shrinking boys as they huddled together on +the bench.</p> + +<p>Ken Ward, for one, was flushing and thrilling. In that moment he lost +his gloom. He watched the varsity come trotting across the field, a +doughty band of baseball warriors. Each wore a sweater with the huge +white “W” shining like a star. Many of those players had worn that +honored varsity letter for three years. It did seem a shame to bar +them from this season's team. Ken found himself thinking of the matter +from their point of view, and his sympathy was theirs.</p> + +<p>More than that, he gloried in the look of them, in the trained, springy +strides, in the lithe, erect forms, in the assurance in every move. Every +detail of that practice photographed itself upon Ken Ward's memory, and +he knew he would never forget.</p> + +<p>There was Dale, veteran player, captain and pitcher of the nine, hero of +victories over Place and Herne. There was Hogan, catcher for three seasons, +a muscular fellow, famed for his snap-throw to the bases and his fiendish +chasing of foul flies. There was Hickle, the great first-baseman, whom the +professional leagues were trying to get. What a reach he had; how easily +he scooped in the ball; low, high, wide, it made no difference to him. +There was Canton at second, Hollis at short, Burns at third, who had been +picked for the last year's All-American College Team. Then there was Dreer, +brightest star of all, the fleet, hard-hitting centre-fielder. This player +particularly fascinated Ken. It was a beautiful sight to see him run. The +ground seemed to fly behind him. When the ball was hit high he wheeled +with his back to the diamond and raced out, suddenly to turn with unerring +judgment—and the ball dropped into his hands. On low line hits he showed +his fleetness, for he was like a gleam of light in his forward dash; and, +however the ball presented, shoulder high, low by his knees, or on a short +bound, he caught it. Ken Ward saw with despairing admiration what it meant +to be a great outfielder.</p> + +<p>Then Arthurs called “Play ball!” giving the old varsity the field.</p> + +<p>With a violent start Ken Ward came out of his rhapsody. He saw a white +ball tossed on the diamond. Dale received it from one of the fielders +and took his position in the pitcher's box. The uniform set off his +powerful form; there was something surly and grimly determined in +his face. He glanced about to his players, as if from long habit, and +called out gruffly: “Get in the game, fellows! No runs for this scrub +outfit!” Then, with long-practised swing, he delivered the ball. It +travelled plateward swift as the flight of a white swallow. The umpire +called it a strike on Weir; the same on the next pitch; the third was +wide. Weir missed the fourth and was out. Raymond followed on the batting +list. To-day, as he slowly stepped toward the plate, seemingly smaller +and glummer than ever, it was plain he was afraid. The bleachers howled +at the little green cap sticking over his ear. Raymond did not swing at +the ball; he sort of reached out his bat at the first three pitches, +stepping back from the plate each time. The yell that greeted his weak +attempt seemed to shrivel him up. Also it had its effect on the youngsters +huddling around Arthurs. Graves went up and hit a feeble grounder to Dale +and was thrown out at first.</p> + +<p>Ken knew the half-inning was over; he saw the varsity players throw aside +their gloves and trot in. But either he could not rise or he was glued to +the bench. Then Arthurs pulled him up, saying, “Watch sharp, Peg, these +fellows are right-field hitters!” At the words all Ken's blood turned +to ice. He ran out into the field fighting the coldest, most sickening +sensation he ever had in his life. The ice in his veins all went to the +pit of his stomach and there formed into a heavy lump. Other times when +he had been frightened flitted through his mind. It had been bad when he +fought with Greaser, and worse when he ran with the outlaws in pursuit, +and the forest fire was appalling. But Ken felt he would gladly have +changed places at that moment. He dreaded the mocking bleachers.</p> + +<p>Of the candidates chosen to play against the varsity Ken knew McCord at +first, Raymond at second, Weir at short, Graves at third. He did not know +even the names of the others. All of them, except Graves, appeared too +young to play in that game.</p> + +<p>Dreer was first up for the varsity, and Ken shivered all over when the +lithe centre-fielder stepped to the left side of the plate. Ken went +out deeper, for he knew most hard-hitting left-handers hit to right +field. But Dreer bunted the first ball teasingly down the third-base +line. Fleet as a deer, he was across the bag before the infielder +reached the ball. Hollis was next up. On the first pitch, as Dreer +got a fast start for second, Hollis bunted down the first-base line. +Pitcher and baseman ran for the bunt; Hollis was safe, and the sprinting +Dreer went to third without even drawing a throw. A long pealing yell +rolled over the bleachers. Dale sent coaches to the coaching lines. +Hickle, big and formidable, hurried to the plate, swinging a long bat. +He swung it as if he intended to knock the ball out of the field. +When the pitcher lifted his arm Dreer dashed for home-base, and seemed +beating the ball. But Hickle deftly dumped it down the line and broke +for first while Dreer scored. This bunt was not fielded at all. How +the bleachers roared! Then followed bunts in rapid succession, dashes +for first, and slides into the bag. The pitcher interfered with the +third-baseman, and the first-baseman ran up the line, and the pitcher +failed to cover the bag, and the catcher fell all over the ball. +Every varsity man bunted, but in just the place where it was not +expected. They raced around the bases. They made long runs from +first to third. They were like flashes of light, slippery as eels. +The bewildered infielders knew they were being played with. The +taunting “boo-hoos” and screams of delight from the bleachers were +as demoralizing as the illusively daring runners. Closer and closer +the infielders edged in until they were right on top of the batters. +Then Dale and his men began to bunt little infield flies over the heads +of their opponents. The merry audience cheered wildly. But Graves and +Raymond ran back and caught three of these little pop flies, thus retiring +the side. The old varsity had made six runs on nothing but deliberate +bunts and daring dashes around the bases.</p> + +<p>Ken hurried in to the bench and heard some one call out, “Ward up!”</p> + +<p>He had forgotten he would have to bat. Stepping to the plate was like +facing a cannon. One of the players yelled: “Here he is, Dale! Here's +the potato-pegger! Knock his block off!”</p> + +<p>The cry was taken up by other players. “Peg him, Dale! Peg him, Dale!” +And then the bleachers got it. Ken's dry tongue seemed pasted to the +roof of his mouth. This Dale in baseball clothes with the lowering frown +was not like the Dale Ken had known. Suddenly he swung his arm. Ken's +quick eye caught the dark, shooting gleam of the ball. Involuntarily he +ducked. “Strike,” called the umpire. Then Dale had not tried to hit him. +Ken stepped up again. The pitcher whirled slowly this time, turning with +long, easy motion, and threw underhand. The ball sailed, floated, soared. +Long before it reached Ken it had fooled him completely. He chopped at +it vainly. The next ball pitched came up swifter, but just before it +crossed the plate it seemed to stop, as if pulled back by a string, and +then dropped down. Ken fell to his knees trying to hit it.</p> + +<p>The next batter's attempts were not as awkward as Ken's, still they were +as futile. As Ken sat wearily down upon the bench he happened to get next +to coach Arthurs. He expected some sharp words from the coach, he thought +he deserved anything, but they were not forthcoming. The coach put his +hand on Ken's knee. When the third batter fouled to Hickle, and Ken +got up to go out to the field, he summoned courage to look at Arthurs. +Something in his face told Ken what an ordeal this was. He divined that +it was vastly more than business with Worry Arthurs.</p> + +<p>“Peg, watch out this time,” whispered the coach. “They'll line 'em at +you this inning—like bullets. Now try hard, won't you? <span class="i">Just try!</span>”</p> + +<p>Ken knew from Arthurs' look more than his words that <span class="i">trying</span> was all +that was left for the youngsters. The varsity had come out early in +the spring, and they had practised to get into condition to annihilate +this new team practically chosen by the athletic directors. And they +had set out to make the game a farce. But Arthurs meant that all the +victory was not in winning the game. It was left for his boys to try +in the face of certain defeat, to try with all their hearts, to try with +unquenchable spirit. It was the spirit that counted, not the result. +The old varsity had received a bitter blow; they were aggressive and +relentless. The students and supporters of old Wayne, idolizing the +great team, always bearing in mind the hot rivalry with Place and Herne, +were unforgiving and intolerant of an undeveloped varsity. Perhaps neither +could be much blamed. But it was for the new players to show what it meant +to them. The greater the prospect of defeat, the greater the indifference +or hostility shown them, the more splendid their opportunity. For it was +theirs to try for old Wayne, to try, to fight, and never to give up.</p> + +<p>Ken caught fire with the flame of that spirit.</p> + +<p>“Boys, come on!” he cried, in his piercing tenor. “<span class="i">They can't beat us +trying!</span>”</p> + +<p>As he ran out into the field members of the varsity spoke to him. +“You green-backed freshman! Shut up! You scrub!”</p> + +<p>“I'm not a varsity has-been!” retorted Ken, hurrying out to his position.</p> + +<p>The first man up, a left-hander, rapped a hard twisting liner to right +field. Ken ran toward deep centre with all his might. The ball kept +twisting and curving. It struck squarely in Ken's hands and bounced +out and rolled far. When he recovered it the runner was on third base. +Before Ken got back to his position the second batter hit hard through +the infield toward right. The ball came skipping like a fiendish rabbit. +Ken gritted his teeth and went down on his knees, to get the bounding +ball full in his breast. But he stopped it, scrambled for it, and made +the throw in. Dale likewise hit in his direction, a slow low fly, +difficult to judge. Ken over-ran it, and the hit gave Dale two bases. +Ken realized that the varsity was now executing Worry Arthurs' famous +right-field hitting. The sudden knowledge seemed to give Ken the +blind-staggers. The field was in a haze; the players blurred in his +sight. He heard the crack of the ball and saw Raymond dash over and +plunge down. Then the ball seemed to streak out of the grass toward +him, and, as he bent over, it missed his hands and cracked on his shin. +Again he fumbled wildly for it and made the throw in. The pain roused +his rage. He bit his lips and called to himself: “I'll stop them if it +kills me!”</p> + +<p>Dreer lined the ball over his head for a home-run. Hollis made a bid +for a three-bagger, but Ken, by another hard sprint, knocked the ball +down. Hickle then batted up a tremendously high fly. It went far beyond +Ken and he ran and ran. It looked like a small pin-point of black up +in the sky. Then he tried to judge it, to get under it. The white sky +suddenly glazed over and the ball wavered this way and that. Ken lost +it in the sun, found it again, and kept on running. Would it never come +down? He had not reached it, he had run beyond it. In an agony he lunged +out, and the ball fell into his hands and jumped out.</p> + +<p>Then followed a fusillade of hits, all between second base and first, +and all vicious-bounding grounders. To and fro Ken ran, managing somehow +to get some portion of his anatomy in front of the ball. It had become +a demon to him now and he hated it. His tongue was hanging out, his +breast was bursting, his hands were numb, yet he held before him the +one idea to keep fiercely trying.</p> + +<p>He lost count of the runs after eleven had been scored. He saw McCord and +Raymond trying to stem the torrent of right-field hits, but those they +knocked down gave him no time to recover. He blocked the grass-cutters +with his knees or his body and pounced upon the ball and got it away from +him as quickly as possible. Would this rapid fire of uncertain-bounding +balls never stop? Ken was in a kind of frenzy. If he only had time to +catch his breath!</p> + +<p>Then Dreer was at bat again. He fouled the first two balls over the +grand-stand. Some one threw out a brand-new ball. Farther and farther +Ken edged into deep right. He knew what was coming. “Let him—hit it!” +he panted. “I'll try to get it! This day settles me. I'm no outfielder. +But I'll try!”</p> + +<p>The tired pitcher threw the ball and Dreer seemed to swing and bound at +once with the ringing crack. The hit was one of his famous drives close +to the right-field foul-line.</p> + +<p>Ken was off with all the speed left in him. He strained every nerve +and was going fast when he passed the foul-flag. The bleachers loomed +up indistinct in his sight. But he thought only of meeting the ball. +The hit was a savage liner, curving away from him. Cinders under his +flying feet were a warning that he did not heed. He was on the track. +He leaped into the air, left hand outstretched, and felt the ball +strike in his glove.</p> + +<p>Then all was dark in a stunning, blinding crash—</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="VIII">Examinations</p> + + +<p>When Ken Ward came fully to his senses he was being half carried +and half led across the diamond to the players' bench. He heard +Worry Arthurs say: “He ain't hurt much—only butted into the fence.”</p> + +<p>Ken tried manfully to entertain Worry's idea about it, but he was too +dazed and weak to stand alone. He imagined he had broken every bone in +his body.</p> + +<p>“Did I make the catch—hang to the ball?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“No, Peg, you didn't,” replied the coach, kindly. “But you made a grand +try for it.”</p> + +<p>He felt worse over failing to hold the ball than he felt over half +killing himself against the bleachers. He spent the remainder of +that never-to-be-forgotten game sitting on the bench. But to watch +his fellow-players try to play was almost as frightful as being +back there in right field. It was no consolation for Ken to see +his successor chasing long hits, misjudging flies, failing weakly +on wicked grounders. Even Graves weakened toward the close and +spoiled his good beginning by miserable fumbles and throws. It was +complete and disgraceful rout. The varsity never let up until the +last man was out. The team could not have played harder against +Place or Herne. Arthurs called the game at the end of the sixth +inning with the score 41 to 0.</p> + +<p>Many beaten and despondent players had dragged themselves off Grant +Field in bygone years. But none had ever been so humiliated, so crushed. +No player spoke a word or looked at another. They walked off with bowed +heads. Ken lagged behind the others; he was still stunned and lame. +Presently Arthurs came back to help him along, and did not speak until +they were clear of the campus and going down Ken's street.</p> + +<p>“I'm glad that's over,” said Worry. “I kicked against havin' the game, +but 'em fat-head directors would have it. Now we'll be let alone. There +won't be no students comin' out to the field, and I'm blamed glad.”</p> + +<p>Ken was sick and smarting with pain, and half crying.</p> + +<p>“I'm sorry, Mr. Arthurs,” he faltered, “we were—so—so—rotten!”</p> + +<p>“See here, Peg,” was the quick reply, “that cuts no ice with me. It was +sure the rottenest exhibition I ever seen in my life. But there's excuses, +and you can just gamble I'm the old boy who knows. You kids were scared +to death. What hurts me, Peg, is the throw-down we got from my old team +and from the students. We're not to blame for rules made by fat-head +directors. I was surprised at Dale. He was mean, and so were Hollis and +Hickle—all of 'em. They didn't need to disgrace us like that.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mr. Arthurs, what players they are!” exclaimed Ken. “I never saw +such running, such hitting. You said they'd hit to right field like +bullets, but it was worse than bullets. And Dreer!... When he came up +my heart just stopped beating.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, listen,” said Worry. “Three years ago when Dreer came out on the +field he was greener than you, and hadn't half the spunk. I made him +what he is, and I made all of 'em—I made that team, and I can make +another.”</p> + +<p>“You are just saying that to—to encourage me,” replied Ken, hopelessly. +“I can't play ball. I thought I could, but I know now. I'll never go +out on the field again.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, are you goin' to throw me down, too?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arthurs! I—I—”</p> + +<p>“Listen, Peg. Cut out the dumps. Get over 'em. You made the varsity +to-day. Understand? You earned your big W. You needn't mention it, +but I've picked you to play somewhere. You weren't a natural infielder, +and you didn't make much of a showin' in the outfield. But it's the +spirit I want. To-day was a bad day for a youngster. There's always +lots of feelin' about college athletics, but here at Wayne this year +the strain's awful. And you fought yourself and stage-fright and the +ridicule of 'em quitter students. You <span class="i">tried</span>, Peg! I never saw a gamer +try. You didn't fail me. And after you made that desperate run and +tried to smash the bleachers with your face the students shut up their +guyin'. It made a difference, Peg. Even the varsity was a little ashamed. +Cheer up, now!”</p> + +<p>Ken was almost speechless; he managed to mumble something, at which +the coach smiled in reply and then walked rapidly away. Ken limped +to his room and took off his baseball suit. The skin had been peeled +from his elbow, and his body showed several dark spots that Ken knew +would soon be black-and-blue bruises. His legs from his knees down +bore huge lumps so sore to the touch that Ken winced even at gentle +rubbing. But he did not mind the pain. All the darkness seemed to have +blown away from his mind.</p> + +<p>“What a fine fellow Worry is!” said Ken. “How I'll work for him! I +must write to brother Hal and Dick Leslie, to tell them I've made +the varsity.... No, not yet; Worry said not to mention it.... And +now to plug. I'll have to take my exams before the first college +game, April 8th, and that's not long.”</p> + +<p>In the succeeding days Ken was very busy with attendance at college in +the mornings, baseball practice in the afternoons, and study at night.</p> + +<p>If Worry had picked any more players for the varsity, Ken could not +tell who they were. Of course Graves would make the team, and Weir and +Raymond were pretty sure of places. There were sixteen players for the +other five positions, and picking them was only guesswork. It seemed +to Ken that some of the players showed streaks of fast playing at times, +and then as soon as they were opposed to one another in the practice +game they became erratic. His own progress was slow. One thing he could +do that brought warm praise from the coach—he could line the ball home +from deep outfield with wonderful speed and accuracy.</p> + +<p>After the varsity had annihilated Worry's “kids,” as they had come to +be known, the students showed no further interest. When they ceased +to appear on the field the new players were able to go at their practice +without being ridiculed. Already an improvement had been noticeable. +But rivalry was so keen for places, and the coach's choice so deep a +mystery, that the contestants played under too great a tension, and +school-boys could have done better.</p> + +<p>It was on the first of April that Arthurs took Ken up into College Hall +to get permission for him to present himself to the different professors +for the early examinations. While Ken sat waiting in the office he heard +Arthurs talking to men he instantly took to be the heads of the Athletic +Association. They were in an adjoining room with the door open, and their +voices were very distinct, so that Ken could not help hearing.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen, I want my answer to-day,” said the coach.</p> + +<p>“Is there so great a hurry? Wait a little,” was the rejoinder.</p> + +<p>“I'm sorry, but this is April 1st, and I'll wait no longer. I'm ready +to send some of my boys up for early exams, and I want to know where +I stand.”</p> + +<p>“Arthurs, what is it exactly that you want? Things have been in an +awful mess, we know. State your case and we'll try to give you a +definite answer.”</p> + +<p>“I want full charge of the coachin'—the handlin' of the team, as I +always had before. I don't want any grad coaches. The directors seem +divided, one half want this, the other half that. They've cut out the +trainin' quarters. I've had no help from Murray; no baths or rub-downs +or trainin' for my candidates. Here's openin' day a week off and I +haven't picked my team. I want to take them to the trainin'-table and +have them under my eye all the time. If I can't have what I want I'll +resign. If I can I'll take the whole responsibility of the team on my +own shoulders.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, Arthurs, we'll let you go ahead and have full charge. There +has been talk this year of abolishing a private training-house and table +for this green varsity. But rather than have you resign we'll waive that. +You can rest assured from now on you will not be interfered with. Give +us the best team you can under the circumstances. There has been much +dissension among the directors and faculty because of our new eligibility +rules. It has stirred everybody up, and the students are sore. Then +there has been talk of not having a professional coach this year, but +we overruled that in last night's meeting. We're going to see what you +can do. I may add, Arthurs, if you shape up a varsity this year that makes +any kind of a showing against Place and Herne you will win the eternal +gratitude of the directors who have fostered this change in athletics. +Otherwise I'm afraid the balance of opinion will favor the idea of +dispensing with professional coaches in the future.”</p> + +<p>Ken saw that Arthurs was white in the face when he left the room. They +went out together, and Worry handed Ken a card that read for him to take +his examinations at once.</p> + +<p>“Are you up on 'em?” asked the coach, anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I—I think so,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“Well, Peg, good luck to you! Go at 'em like you went at Dreer's hit.”</p> + +<p>Much to his amazement it was for Ken to discover that, now the time had +come for him to face his examinations, he was not at all sanguine. He +began to worry. He forgot about the text-books he had mastered in his +room during the long winter when he feared to venture out because of +the sophomores. It was not very long till he had worked himself into a +state somewhat akin to his trepidation in the varsity ball game. Then +he decided to go up at once and have it done with. His whole freshman +year had been one long agony. What a relief to have it ended!</p> + +<p>Ken passed four examinations in one morning, passed them swimmingly, +smilingly, splendidly, and left College Hall in an ecstasy. Things +were working out fine. But he had another examination, and it was in +a subject he had voluntarily included in his course. Whatever on earth +he had done it for he could not now tell. The old doctor who held the +chair in that department had thirty years before earned the name of Crab. +And slowly in the succeeding years he had grown crabbier, crustier, so +student rumor had it. Ken had rather liked the dry old fellow, and had +been much absorbed in his complex lectures, but he had never been near +him, and now the prospect changed color. Foolishly Ken asked a sophomore +in what light old Crab might regard a student who was ambitious to pass +his exams early. The picture painted by that sophomore would have made +a flaming-mouthed dragon appear tame. Nerving himself to the ordeal, Ken +took his card and presented himself one evening at the doctor's house.</p> + +<p>A maid ushered him into the presence of a venerable old man who did not +look at all, even in Ken's distorted sight, like a crab or a dragon. His +ponderous brow seemed as if it had all the thought in the world behind +it. He looked over huge spectacles at Ken's card and then spoke in a dry, +quavering voice.</p> + +<p>“Um-m. Sit down, Mr. Ward.”</p> + +<p>Ken found his breath and strangely lost his fear and trembling. The doctor +dryly asked him why he thought he knew more than the other students, who +were satisfied to wait months longer before examination. Ken hastened to +explain that it was no desire of his; that, although he had studied hard +and had not missed many lectures, he knew he was unprepared. Then he went +on to tell about the baseball situation and why he had been sent up.</p> + +<p>“Um-m.” The professor held a glass paperweight up before Ken and asked +a question about it. Next he held out a ruler and asked something about +that, and also a bottle of ink. Following this he put a few queries +about specific gravity, atomic weight, and the like. Then he sat +thrumming his desk and appeared far away in thought. After a while +he turned to Ken with a smile that made his withered, parchment-like +face vastly different.</p> + +<p>“Where do you play?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“S-sir?” stammered Ken.</p> + +<p>“In baseball, I mean. What place do you play? Catch? Thrower? I don't +know the names much.”</p> + +<p>Ken replied eagerly, and then it seemed he was telling this stern old +man all about baseball. He wanted to know what fouls were, and how to +steal bases, and he was nonplussed by such terms as “hit-and-run.” Ken +discoursed eloquently on his favorite sport, and it was like a kind of +dream to be there. Strange things were always happening to him.</p> + +<p>“I've never seen a game,” said the professor. “I used to play myself +long ago, when we had a yarn ball and pitched underhand. I'll have to +come out to the field some day. President Halstead, why, he likes +baseball, he's a—a—what do you call it?”</p> + +<p>“A fan—a rooter?” replied Ken, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Um-m. I guess that's it. Well, Mr. Ward, I'm glad to meet you. You may +go now.”</p> + +<p>Ken got up blushing like a girl. “But, Doctor, you were to—I was to be +examined.”</p> + +<p>“I've examined you,” he drawled, with a dry chuckle, and he looked over +his huge spectacles at Ken. “I'll give you a passing mark. But, Mr. Ward, +you know a heap more about baseball than you know about physics.”</p> + +<p>As Ken went out he trod upon air. What a splendid old fellow! The sophomore +had lied. For that matter, when had a sophomore ever been known to tell +the truth? But, he suddenly exclaimed, he himself was no longer a freshman. +He pondered happily on the rosy lining to his old cloud of gloom. How +different things appeared after a little time. That old doctor's smile +would linger long in Ken's memory. He felt deep remorse that he had ever +misjudged him. He hurried on to Worry Arthurs' house to tell him the good +news. And as he walked his mind was full with the wonder of it all—his +lonely, wretched freshman days, now forever past; the slow change from +hatred; the dawning of some strange feeling for the college and his +teachers; and, last, the freedom, the delight, the quickening stir in +the present.</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="IX">President Halstead on College Spirit</p> + + +<p>Wayne's opening game was not at all what Ken had dreamed it would be. +The opposing team from Hudson School was as ill-assorted an aggregation +as Ken had ever seen. They brought with them a small but noisy company +of cheering supporters who, to the shame of Ken and his fellows, had +the bleachers all to themselves. If any Wayne students were present +they either cheered for Hudson or remained silent.</p> + +<p>Hudson won, 9 to 2. It was a game that made Arthurs sag a little lower +on the bench. Graves got Wayne's two tallies. Raymond at second played +about all the game from the fielding standpoint. Ken distinguished +himself by trying wildly and accomplishing nothing. When he went to +his room that night he had switched back to his former spirits, and +was disgusted with Wayne's ball team, himself most of all.</p> + +<p>That was on a Wednesday. The next day rain prevented practice, and on +Friday the boys were out on the field again. Arthurs shifted the players +around, trying resignedly to discover certain positions that might fit +certain players. It seemed to Ken that all the candidates, except one +or two, were good at fielding and throwing, but when they came to play +a game they immediately went into a trance.</p> + +<p>Travers College was scheduled for Saturday. They had always turned out +a good minor team, but had never been known to beat Wayne. They shut +Arthurs' team out without a run. A handful of Wayne students sat in the +bleachers mocking their own team. Arthurs used the two pitchers he had +been trying hard to develop, and when they did locate the plate they +were hit hard. Ken played or essayed to play right field for a while, +but he ran around like a chicken with its head off, as a Travers player +expressed it, and then Arthurs told him that he had better grace the +bench the rest of the game. Ashamed as Ken was to be put out, he was +yet more ashamed to feel that he was glad of it. Hardest of all to bear +was the arrogant air put on by the Travers College players. Wayne had +indeed been relegated to the fifth rank of college baseball teams.</p> + +<p>On Monday announcements were made in all the lecture-rooms and departments +of the university, and bulletins were posted to the effect, that President +Halstead wished to address the undergraduates in the Wayne auditorium +on Tuesday at five o'clock.</p> + +<p>Rumor flew about the campus and Carlton Club, everywhere, that the +president's subject would be “College Spirit,” and it was believed he +would have something to say about the present condition of athletics. +Ken Ward hurried to the hall as soon as he got through his practice. He +found the immense auditorium packed from pit to dome, and he squeezed +into a seat on the steps.</p> + +<p>The students, as always, were exchanging volleys of paper-balls, +matching wits, singing songs, and passing time merrily. When +President Halstead entered, with two of his associates, he was +greeted by a thunder of tongues, hands, and heels of the standing +students. He was the best-beloved member of the university faculty, +a distinguished, scholarly looking man, well-stricken in years.</p> + +<p>He opened his address by declaring the need of college spirit in college +life. He defined it as the vital thing, the heart of a great educational +institution, and he went on to speak of its dangers, its fluctuations. +Then he made direct reference to athletics in its relation to both +college spirit and college life.</p> + +<p>“Sport is too much with us. Of late years I have observed a great increase +in the number of athletic students, and a great decrease in scholarship. +The fame of the half-back and the short-stop and the stroke-oar has grown +out of proportion to their real worth. The freshman is dazzled by it. The +great majority of college men cannot shine in sport, which is the best +thing that could be. The student's ideal, instead of being the highest +scholarship, the best attainment for his career, is apt to be influenced +by the honors and friendships that are heaped upon the great athlete. +This is false to university life. You are here to prepare yourselves +for the battle with the world, and I want to state that that battle is +becoming more and more intellectual. The student who slights his studies +for athletic glory may find himself, when that glory is long past, +distanced in the race for success by a student who had not trained to +run the hundred in ten seconds.</p> + +<p>“But, gentlemen, to keep well up in your studies and <span class="i">then</span> go in for +athletics—that is entirely another question. It is not likely that +any student who keeps to the front in any of the university courses +will have too much time for football or baseball. I am, as you all +know, heartily in favor of all branches of college sport. And that +brings me to the point I want to make to-day. Baseball is my favorite +game, and I have always been proud of Wayne's teams. The new eligibility +rules, with which you are all familiar, were brought to me, and after +thoroughly going over the situation I approved of them. Certainly it is +obvious to you all that a university ball-player making himself famous +here, and then playing during the summer months at a resort, is laying +himself open to suspicion. I have no doubt that many players are innocent +of the taint of professionalism, but unfortunately they have become +members of these summer teams after being first requested, then warned, +not to do so.</p> + +<p>“Wayne's varsity players of last year have been barred by the directors. +They made their choice, and so should abide by it. They have had their +day, and so should welcome the opportunity of younger players. But I +am constrained to acknowledge that neither they nor the great body of +undergraduates welcomed the change. This, more than anything, proves to +me the evil of championship teams. The football men, the baseball men, +the crew men, and all the student supporters want to win <span class="i">all</span> the games +<span class="i">all</span> the time. I would like to ask you young gentlemen if you can take +a beating? If you cannot, I would like to add that you are not yet fitted +to go out into life. A good beating, occasionally, is a wholesome thing.</p> + +<p>“Well, to come to the point now: I find, after studying the situation, +that the old varsity players and undergraduates of this university have +been lacking in—let us be generous and say, college spirit. I do not +need to go into detail; suffice it to say that I know. I will admit, +however, that I attended the game between the old varsity and the new +candidates. I sat unobserved in a corner, and a more unhappy time I +never spent in this university. I confess that my sympathies were with +the inexperienced, undeveloped boys who were trying to learn to play +ball. <span class="i">Put yourselves in their places.</span> Say you are mostly freshmen, +and you make yourselves candidates for the team because you love the +game, and because you would love to bring honor to your college. You +go out and try. You meet, the first day, an implacable team of skilled +veterans who show their scorn of your poor ability, their hatred of +your opportunity, and ride roughshod—I should say, run with spiked +shoes—over you. You hear the roar of four thousand students applauding +these hero veterans. You hear your classmates, your fellow-students in +Wayne, howl with ridicule at your weak attempts to compete with better, +stronger players.... Gentlemen, how would you feel?</p> + +<p>“I said before that college spirit fluctuates. If I did not know students +well I would be deeply grieved at the spirit shown that day. I know that +the tide will turn.... And, gentlemen, would not you and the old varsity +be rather in an embarrassing position if—if these raw recruits should +happen to develop into a team strong enough to cope with Place and Herne? +Stranger things have happened. I am rather strong for the new players, +not because of their playing, which is poor indeed, but for the way they +<span class="i">tried</span> under peculiarly adverse conditions.</p> + +<p>“That young fellow Ward—what torture that inning of successive hard +hits to his territory! I was near him in that end of the bleachers, +and I watched him closely. Every attempt he made was a failure—that +is, failure from the point of view of properly fielding the ball. But, +gentlemen, that day was not a failure for young Ward. It was a grand +success. Some one said his playing was the poorest exhibition ever seen +on Grant Field. That may be. I want to say that to my mind it was also +the most splendid effort ever made on Grant Field. For it was made against +defeat, fear, ridicule. It was elimination of self. It was made for his +coach, his fellow-players, his college—that is to say, for the students +who shamed themselves by scorn for his trial.</p> + +<p>“Young men of Wayne, give us a little more of such college spirit!”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="X">New Players</p> + + +<p>When practice time rolled around for Ken next day, he went upon the +field once more with his hopes renewed and bright.</p> + +<p>“I certainly do die hard,” he laughed to himself. “But I can never go +down and out now—never!”</p> + +<p>Something seemed to ring in Ken's ears like peals of bells. In spite of +his awkwardness Coach Arthurs had made him a varsity man; in spite of his +unpreparedness old Crab had given him a passing mark; in spite of his +unworthiness President Halstead had made him famous.</p> + +<p>“I surely am the lucky one,” said Ken, for the hundredth time. “And +now I'm going to force my luck.” Ken had lately revolved in his mind +a persistent idea that he meant to propound to the coach.</p> + +<p>Ken arrived on the field a little later than usual, to find Arthurs for +once minus his worried look. He was actually smiling, and Ken soon saw +the reason for this remarkable change was the presence of a new player +out in centre field.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Peg! things are lookin' up,” said the coach, beaming. “That's +Homans out there in centre—Roy Homans, a senior and a crackerjack +ball-player. I tried to get him to come out for the team last year, but +he wouldn't spare the time. But he's goin' to play this season—said the +president's little talk got him. He's a fast, heady, scientific player, +just the one to steady you kids.”</p> + +<p>Before Ken could reply his attention was attracted from Homans to +another new player in uniform now walking up to Arthurs. He was tall, +graceful, powerful, had red hair, keen dark eyes, a clean-cut profile +and square jaw.</p> + +<p>“I've come out to try for the team,” he said, quietly, to the coach.</p> + +<p>“You're a little late, ain't you?” asked Worry, gruffly; but he ran +a shrewd glance over the lithe form.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Must have been stirred up by that talk of President Halstead's, +wasn't you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.” There was something quiet and easy about the stranger, +and Ken liked him at once.</p> + +<p>“Where do you play?” went on Worry.</p> + +<p>“Left.”</p> + +<p>“Can you hit? Talk sense now, and mebbe you'll save me work. Can you hit?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Can you throw?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.” He spoke with quiet assurance.</p> + +<p>“Can you run?” almost shouted Worry. He was nervous and irritable +those days, and it annoyed him for unknown youths to speak calmly +of such things.</p> + +<p>“Run? Yes, a little. I did the hundred last year in nine and four-fifths.”</p> + +<p>“What! You can't kid me! Who are you?” cried Worry, getting red in the +face. “I've seen you somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“My name's Ray.”</p> + +<p>“Say! Not <span class="i">Ray</span>, the intercollegiate champion?”</p> + +<p>“I'm the fellow. I talked it over with Murray. He kicked, but I didn't +mind that. I promised to try to keep in shape to win the sprints at the +intercollegiate meet.”</p> + +<p>“Say! Get out there in left field! Quick!” shouted Worry.... “Peg, hit +him some flies. Lam 'em a mile! That fellow's a sprinter, Peg. What luck +it would be if he can play ball! Hit 'em at him!”</p> + +<p>Ken took the ball Worry tossed him, and, picking up a bat, began to +knock flies out to Ray. The first few he made easy for the outfielder, +and then he hit balls harder and off to the right or left. Without +appearing to exert himself Ray got under them. Ken watched him, and +also kept the tail of his eye on Worry. The coach appeared to be +getting excited, and he ordered Ken to hit the balls high and far +away. Ken complied, but he could not hit a ball over Ray's head. He +tried with all his strength. He had never seen a champion sprinter, +and now he marvelled at the wonderful stride.</p> + +<p>“Oh! but his running is beautiful!” exclaimed Ken.</p> + +<p>“That's enough! Come in here!” yelled Worry to Ray.... “Peg, he makes +Dreer look slow. I never saw as fast fieldin' as that.”</p> + +<p>When Ray came trotting in without seeming to be even warmed up, Worry +blurted out: “You ain't winded—after all that? Must be in shape?”</p> + +<p>“I'm always in shape,” replied Ray.</p> + +<p>“Pick up a bat!” shouted Worry. “Here, Duncan, pitch this fellow a few. +Speed 'em, curve 'em, strike him out, hit him—anything!”</p> + +<p>Ray was left-handed, and he stood up to the plate perfectly erect, +with his bat resting quietly on his shoulder. He stepped straight, +swung with an even, powerful swing, and he hit the first ball clear +over the right-field bleachers. It greatly distanced Dreer's hit.</p> + +<p>“What a drive!” gasped Ken.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” choked Worry. “That's enough! You needn't lose my balls. Bunt one, +now.”</p> + +<p>Ray took the same position, and as the ball came up he appeared to drop +the bat upon it and dart away at the same instant.</p> + +<p>Worry seemed to be trying to control violent emotion. “Next batter up!” +he called, hoarsely, and sat down on the bench. He was breathing hard, +and beads of sweat stood out on his brow.</p> + +<p>Ken went up to Worry, feeling that now was the time to acquaint the +coach with his new idea. Eager as Ken was he had to force himself to +take this step. All the hope and dread, nervousness and determination +of the weeks of practice seemed to accumulate in that moment. He +stammered and stuttered, grew speechless, and then as Worry looked +up in kind surprise, Ken suddenly grew cool and earnest.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arthurs, will you try me in the box?”</p> + +<p>“What's that, Peg?” queried the coach, sharply.</p> + +<p>“Will you give me a trial in the box? I've wanted one all along. You put +me in once when we were in the cage, but you made me hit the batters.”</p> + +<p>“Pitch? you, Peg? Why not? Why didn't I think of it? I'm sure gettin' +to be like 'em fat-head directors. You've got steam, Peg, but can you +curve a ball? Let's see your fingers.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I can curve a ball round a corner. Please give me a trial, +Mr. Arthurs. I failed in the infield, and I'm little good in the +outfield. But I know I can pitch.”</p> + +<p>The coach gave Ken one searching glance. Then he called all the +candidates in to the plate, and ordered Dean, the stocky little +catcher, to don his breast-protector, mask, and mitt.</p> + +<p>“Peg,” said the coach, “Dean will sign you—one finger for a straight +ball, two for a curve.”</p> + +<p>When Ken walked to the box all his muscles seemed quivering and tense, +and he had a contraction in his throat. This was his opportunity. He was +not unnerved as he had been when he was trying for the other positions. +All Ken's life he had been accustomed to throwing. At his home he had +been the only boy who could throw a stone across the river; the only one +who could get a ball over the high-school tower. A favorite pastime had +always been the throwing of small apples, or walnuts, or stones, and he +had acquired an accuracy that made it futile for his boy comrades to +compete with him. Curving a ball had come natural to him, and he would +have pitched all his high-school games had it not been for the fact that +no one could catch him, and, moreover, none of the boys had found any +fun in batting against him.</p> + +<p>When Ken faced the first batter a feeling came over him that he had +never before had on the ball field. He was hot, trembling, hurried, +but this new feeling was apart from these. His feet were on solid +ground, and his arm felt as it had always in those throwing contests +where he had so easily won. He seemed to decide from McCord's position +at the plate what to throw him.</p> + +<p>Ken took his swing. It was slow, easy, natural. But the ball travelled +with much greater speed than the batter expected from such motion. McCord +let the first two balls go by, and Arthurs called them both strikes. Then +Ken pitched an out-curve which McCord fanned at helplessly. Arthurs sent +Trace up next. Ken saw that the coach was sending up the weaker hitters +first. Trace could not even make a foul. Raymond was third up, and Ken +had to smile at the scowling second-baseman. Remembering his weakness +for pulling away from the plate, Ken threw Raymond two fast curves on +the outside, and then a slow wide curve, far out. Raymond could not have +hit the first two with a paddle, and the third lured him irresistibly +out of position and made him look ridiculous. He slammed his bat down +and slouched to the bench. Duncan turned out to be the next easy victim. +Four batters had not so much as fouled Ken. And Ken knew he was holding +himself in—that, in fact, he had not let out half his speed. Blake, the +next player, hit up a little fly that Ken caught, and Schoonover made +the fifth man to strike out.</p> + +<p>Then Weir stood over the plate, and he was a short, sturdy batter, hard +to pitch to. He looked as if he might be able to hit any kind of a ball. +Ken tried him first with a straight fast one over the middle of the plate. +Weir hit it hard, but it went foul. And through Ken's mind flashed the +thought that he would pitch no more speed to Weir or players who swung +as he did. Accordingly Ken tried the slow curve that had baffled Raymond. +Weir popped it up and retired in disgust.</p> + +<p>The following batter was Graves, who strode up smiling, confident, +sarcastic, as if he knew he could do more than the others. Ken imagined +what the third-baseman would have said if the coach had not been present. +Graves always ruffled Ken the wrong way.</p> + +<p>“I'll strike him out if I break my arm!” muttered Ken to himself. He +faced Graves deliberately and eyed his position at bat. Graves as +deliberately laughed at him.</p> + +<p>“Pitch up, pitch up!” he called out.</p> + +<p>“Right over the pan!” retorted Ken, as quick as an echo. He went hot as +fire all over. This fellow Graves had some strange power of infuriating +him.</p> + +<p>Ken took a different swing, which got more of his weight in motion, and +let his arm out. Like a white bullet the ball shot plateward, rising a +little so that Graves hit vainly under it. The ball surprised Dean, +knocked his hands apart as if they had been paper, and resounded from +his breast-protector. Ken pitched the second ball in the same place with +a like result, except that Dean held on to it. Graves had lost his smile +and wore an expression of sickly surprise. The third ball travelled by +him and cracked in Dean's mitt, and Arthurs called it a strike.</p> + +<p>“Easy there—that'll do!” yelled the coach. “Come in here, Peg. Out on +the field now, boys.”</p> + +<p>Homans stopped Ken as they were passing each other, and Ken felt himself +under the scrutiny of clear gray eyes.</p> + +<p>“Youngster, you look good to me,” said Homans.</p> + +<p>Ken also felt himself regarded with astonishment by many of the candidates; +and Ray ran a keen, intuitive glance over him from head to foot. But it was +the coach's manner that struck Ken most forcibly. Worry was utterly unlike +himself.</p> + +<p>“Why didn't you tell me about this before—you—you—” he yelled, red as +a beet in the face. He grasped Ken with both hands, then he let him go, +and picking up a ball and a mitt he grasped him again. Without a word he +led Ken across the field and to a secluded corner behind the bleachers. +Ken felt for all the world as if he was being led to execution.</p> + +<p>Worry took off his coat and vest and collar. He arranged a block of wood +for a plate and stepped off so many paces and placed another piece of +wood to mark the pitcher's box. Then he donned the mitt.</p> + +<p>“Peg, somethin's comin' off. I know it. I never make mistakes in sizin' +up pitchers. But I've had such hard luck this season that I can't believe +my own eyes. We've got to prove it. Now you go out there and pitch to me. +Just natural like at first.”</p> + +<p>Ken pitched a dozen balls or more, some in-curves, some out-curves. Then +he threw what he called his drop, which he executed by a straight overhand +swing.</p> + +<p>“Oh—a beauty!” yelled Worry. “Where, Peg, where did you learn that? +Another, lower now.”</p> + +<p>Worry fell over trying to stop the glancing drop.</p> + +<p>“Try straight ones now, Peg, right over the middle. See how many you +can pitch.”</p> + +<p>One after another, with free, easy motion, Ken shot balls squarely over +the plate. Worry counted them, and suddenly, after the fourteenth pitch, +he stood up and glared at Ken.</p> + +<p>“Are you goin' to keep puttin' 'em over this pan all day that way?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arthurs, I couldn't miss that plate if I pitched a week,” +replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“Stop callin' me Mister!” yelled Worry. “Now, put 'em where I hold my +hands—inside corner... outside corner... again... inside now, low... +another... a fast one over, now... high, inside. Oh, Peg, this ain't +right. I ain't seein' straight. I think I'm dreamin'. Come on with 'em!”</p> + +<p>Fast and true Ken sped the balls into Worry's mitt. Seldom did the +coach have to move his hands at all.</p> + +<p>“Peg Ward, did you know that pitchin' was all control, puttin' the ball +where you wanted to?” asked Worry, stopping once more.</p> + +<p>“No, I didn't,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“How did you learn to peg a ball as straight as this?”</p> + +<p>Ken told him how he had thrown at marks all his life.</p> + +<p>“Why didn't you tell me before?” Worry seemed not to be able to get +over Ken's backwardness. “Look at the sleepless nights and the gray +hairs you could have saved me.” He stamped around as if furious, yet +underneath the surface Ken saw that the coach was trying to hide his +elation. “Here now,” he shouted, suddenly, “a few more, and <span class="i">peg</span> 'em! +See? Cut loose and let me see what steam you've got!”</p> + +<p>Ken whirled with all his might and delivered the ball with all his +weight in the swing. The ball seemed to diminish in size, it went so +swiftly. Near the plate it took an upward jump, and it knocked Worry's +mitt off his hand.</p> + +<p>Worry yelled out, then he looked carefully at Ken, but he made no effort +to go after the ball or pick up the mitt.</p> + +<p>“Did I say for you to knock my block off?... Come here, Peg. You're only +a youngster. Do you think you can keep that? Are you goin' to let me teach +you to pitch? Have you got any nerve? Are you up in the air at the thought +of Place and Herne?”</p> + +<p>Then he actually hugged Ken, and kept hold of him as if he might get away. +He was panting and sweating. All at once he sat down on one of the braces +of the bleachers and began mopping his face. He seemed to cool down, to +undergo a subtle change.</p> + +<p>“Peg,” he said, quietly, “I'm as bad as some of 'em fat-head directors.... +You see I didn't have no kind of a pitcher to work on this spring. I kept +on hopin'. Strange why I didn't quit. And now—my boy, you're a kid, but +you're a natural born pitcher.”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XI">State University Game</p> + + +<p>Arthurs returned to the diamond and called the squad around him. He might +have been another coach from the change that was manifest in him.</p> + +<p>“Boys, I've picked the varsity, and sorry I am to say you all can't be on +it. Ward, Dean, McCord, Raymond, Weir, Graves, Ray, Homans, Trace, Duncan, +and Schoonover—these men will report at once to Trainer Murray and obey +his orders. Then pack your trunks and report to me at 36 Spring Street +to-night. That's all—up on your toes now.... The rest of you boys will +each get his uniform and sweater, but, of course, I can't give you the +varsity letter. You've all tried hard and done your best. I'm much obliged +to you, and hope you'll try again next year.”</p> + +<p>Led by Arthurs, the players trotted across the field to Murray's +quarters. Ken used all his eyes as he went in. This was the sacred +precinct of the chosen athletes, and it was not open to any others. +He saw a small gymnasium, and adjoining it a large, bright room with +painted windows that let in the light, but could not be seen through. +Around the room on two sides were arranged huge box-like bins with holes +in the lids and behind them along the wall were steam-pipes. On the other +two sides were little zinc-lined rooms, with different kinds of pipes, +which Ken concluded were used for shower baths. Murray, the trainer, +was there, and two grinning negroes with towels over their shoulders, +and a little dried-up Scotchman who was all one smile.</p> + +<p>“Murray, here's my bunch. Look 'em over, and to-morrow start 'em in for +keeps,” said Arthurs.</p> + +<p>“Well, Worry, they're not a bad-looking lot. Slim and trim. We won't +have to take off any beef. Here's Reddy Ray. I let you have him this +year, Worry, but the track team will miss him. And here's Peg Ward. +I was sure you'd pick him, Worry. And this is Homans, isn't it? I +remember you in the freshmen games. The rest of you boys I'll have +to get acquainted with. They say I'm a pretty hard fellow, but that's +on the outside. Now, hustle out of your suits, and we'll give you all +a good stew and a rub-down.”</p> + +<p>What the stew was soon appeared plain to Ken. He was the first player +undressed, and Murray, lifting up one of the box-lids, pushed Ken inside.</p> + +<p>“Sit down and put your feet in that pan,” he directed. “When I drop the +lid let your head come out the hole. There!” Then he wrapped a huge towel +around Ken's neck, being careful to tuck it close and tight. With that +he reached round to the back of the box and turned on the steam.</p> + +<p>Ken felt like a jack-in-the-box. The warm steam was pleasant. He looked +about him to see the other boys being placed in like positions. Raymond +had the box on one side, and Reddy Ray the one on the other.</p> + +<p>“It's great,” said Ray, smiling at Ken. “You'll like it.”</p> + +<p>Raymond looked scared. Ken wondered if the fellow ever got any enjoyment +out of things. Then Ken found himself attending to his own sensations. +The steam was pouring out of the pipe inside the box, and it was growing +wetter, thicker, and hotter. The pleasant warmth and tickling changed to +a burning sensation. Ken found himself bathed in a heavy sweat. Then he +began to smart in different places, and he was hard put to it to keep +rubbing them. The steam grew hotter; his body was afire; his breath +labored in great heaves. Ken felt that he must cry out. He heard +exclamations, then yells, from some of the other boxed-up players, +and he glanced quickly around. Reddy Ray was smiling, and did not +look at all uncomfortable. But Raymond was scarlet in the face, and +he squirmed his head to and fro.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Ough!</span>” he bawled. “Let me out of here!”</p> + +<p>One of the negro attendants lifted the lid and helped Raymond out. +He danced about as if on hot bricks. His body was the color of a +boiled lobster. The attendant put him under one of the showers and +turned the water on. Raymond uttered one deep, low, “O-o-o-o!” Then +McCord begged to be let out; Weir's big head, with its shock of hair, +resembled that of an angry lion; little Trace screamed, and Duncan +yelled.</p> + +<p>“Peg, how're you?” asked Murray, walking up to Ken. “It's always pretty +hot the first few times. But afterward it's fine. Look at Reddy.”</p> + +<p>“Murray, give Peg a good stewin',” put in Arthurs. “He's got a great +arm, and we must take care of it.”</p> + +<p>Ken saw the other boys, except Ray, let out, and he simply could not +endure the steam any longer.</p> + +<p>“I've got—enough,” he stammered.</p> + +<p>“Scotty, turn on a little more stew,” ordered Murray, cheerfully; then +he rubbed his hand over Ken's face. “You're not hot yet.”</p> + +<p>Scotty turned on more steam, and Ken felt it as a wet flame. He was +being flayed alive.</p> + +<p>“Please—please—let me out!” he implored.</p> + +<p>With a laugh Murray lifted the lid, and Ken hopped out. He was as red +as anything red he had ever seen. Then Scotty shoved him under a shower, +and as the icy water came down in a deluge Ken lost his breath, his +chest caved in, and he gasped. Scotty led him out into the room, dried +him with a towel, rubbed him down, and then, resting Ken's arm on his +shoulder, began to pat and beat and massage it. In a few moments Ken +thought his arm was a piece of live India rubber. He had never been in +such a glow. When he had dressed he felt as light as air, strong, fresh, +and keen for action.</p> + +<p>“Hustle now, Peg,” said Arthurs. “Get your things packed. Supper to-night +at the trainin'-house.”</p> + +<p>It was after dark when Ken got an expressman to haul his trunk to the +address on Spring Street. The house was situated about the middle of +a four-storied block, and within sight of Grant Field. Worry answered +his ring.</p> + +<p>“Here you are, Peg, the last one. I was beginnin' to worry about you. +Have your trunk taken right up, third floor back. Hurry down, for dinner +will be ready soon.”</p> + +<p>Ken followed at the heels of the expressman up to his room. He was +surprised and somewhat taken back to find Raymond sitting upon the +bed.</p> + +<p>“Hello! excuse me,” said Ken. “Guess I've got the wrong place.”</p> + +<p>“The coach said you and I were to room together,” returned Raymond.</p> + +<p>“Us? Room-mates?” ejaculated Ken.</p> + +<p>Raymond took offence at this.</p> + +<p>“Wull, I guess I can stand it,” he growled.</p> + +<p>“I hope I can,” was Ken's short reply. It was Ken's failing that he +could not help retaliating. But he was also as repentant as he was +quick-tempered. “Oh, I didn't mean that.... See here, Raymond, if +we've got to be room-mates—”</p> + +<p>Ken paused in embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“Wull, we're both on the varsity,” said Raymond.</p> + +<p>“That's so,” rejoined Ken, brightening. “It makes a whole lot of +difference, doesn't it?”</p> + +<p>Raymond got off the bed and looked at Ken.</p> + +<p>“What's your first name?” queried he. “I don't like ‘Peg.’”</p> + +<p>“Kenneth. Ken, for short. What's yours?”</p> + +<p>“Mine's Kel. Wull, Ken—”</p> + +<p>Having gotten so far Raymond hesitated, and it was Ken who first +offered his hand. Raymond eagerly grasped it. That broke the ice.</p> + +<p>“Kel, I haven't liked your looks at all,” said Ken, apologetically.</p> + +<p>“Ken, I've been going to lick you all spring.”</p> + +<p>They went down-stairs arm in arm.</p> + +<p>It was with great interest and curiosity that Ken looked about the cozy +and comfortable rooms. The walls were adorned with pictures of varsity +teams and players, and the college colors were much in evidence. College +magazines and papers littered the table in the reading-room.</p> + +<p>“Boys, we'll be pretty snug and nice here when things get to runnin' +smooth. The grub will be plain, but plenty of it.”</p> + +<p>There were twelve in all at the table, with the coach seated at the head. +The boys were hungry, and besides, as they had as yet had no chance to +become acquainted, the conversation lagged. The newness and strangeness, +however, did not hide the general air of suppressed gratification. After +dinner Worry called them all together in the reading-room.</p> + +<p>“Well, boys, here we are together like one big family, and we're shut +in for two months. Now, I know you've all been fightin' for places on +the team, and have had no chance to be friendly. It's always that way +in the beginnin', and I dare say there'll be some scraps among you +before things straighten out. We'll have more to say about that later. +The thing now is you're all varsity men, and I'm puttin' you on your +word of honor. Your word is good enough for me. Here's my rules, and +I'm more than usually particular this year, for reasons I'll tell later.</p> + +<p>“You're not to break trainin'. You're not to eat anything anywhere but +here. You're to cut out cigarettes and drinks. You're to be in bed at +ten o'clock. And I advise, although I ain't insistin', that if you have +any leisure time you'll spend most of it here. That's all.”</p> + +<p>For Ken the three days following passed as so many hours. He did not in +the least dread the approaching game with State University, but his mind +held scarcely anything outside of Arthurs' coaching. The practice of the +players had been wholly different. It was as if they had been freed from +some binding spell. Worry kept them at fielding and batting for four full +hours every afternoon. Ken, after pitching to Dean for a while, batted +to the infield and so had opportunity to see the improvement. Graves was +brilliant at third, Weir was steady and sure at short, Raymond seemed +to have springs in his legs and pounced upon the ball with wonderful +quickness, and McCord fielded all his chances successfully.</p> + +<p>On the afternoon of the game Worry waited at the training-house until +all the players came down-stairs in uniform.</p> + +<p>“Boys, what's happened in the past doesn't count. We start over to-day. +I'm not goin' to say much or confuse you with complex team coachin'. +But I'm hopeful. I sort of think there's a nigger in the woodpile. I'll +tell you to-night if I'm right. Think of how you have been roasted by +the students. Play like tigers. Put out of your mind everything but +tryin'. Nothin' counts for you, boys. Errors are nothin'; mistakes +are nothin'. Play the game as one man. Don't think of yourselves. You +all know when you ought to hit or bunt or run. I'm trustin' you. I won't +say a word from the bench. And don't underrate our chances. Remember +that I think it's possible we may have somethin' up our sleeves. That's +all from me till after the game.”</p> + +<p>Worry walked to Grant Field with Ken. He talked as they went along, but +not on baseball. The State team was already out and practising. Worry +kept Ken near him on the bench and closely watched the visitors in +practice. When the gong rang to call them in he sent his players out, +with a remark to Ken to take his warming-up easily. Ken thought he had +hardly warmed up at all before the coach called him in.</p> + +<p>“Peg, listen!” he whispered. His gaze seemed to hypnotize Ken. “Do you +have any idea what you'll do to this bunch from State?”</p> + +<p>“Why—no—I—”</p> + +<p>“Listen! I tell you I know they won't be able to touch you.... Size up +batters in your own way. If they look as if they'd pull or chop on a +curve, hand it up. If not, peg 'em a straight one over the inside corner, +high. If you get in a hole with runners on bases use that fast jump ball, +as hard as you can drive it, right over the pan.... Go in with perfect +confidence. I wouldn't say that to you, Peg, if I didn't feel it myself, +honestly. I'd say for you to do your best. But I've sized up these +State fellows, and they won't be able to touch you. Remember what I +say. That's all.”</p> + +<p>“I'll remember,” said Ken, soberly.</p> + +<p>When the umpire called the game there were perhaps fifty students in the +bleachers and a few spectators in the grand-stand, so poor an attendance +that the State players loudly voiced their derision.</p> + +<p>“Hey! boys,” yelled one, “we drew a crowd last year, and look at that!”</p> + +<p>“It's Wayne's dub team,” replied another. They ran upon the field as if +the result of the game was a foregone conclusion. Their pitcher, a lanky +individual, handled the ball with assurance.</p> + +<p>Homans led off for Wayne. He stood left-handed at the plate, and held +his bat almost in the middle. He did not swing, but poked at the first +ball pitched and placed a short hit over third. Raymond, also left-handed, +came next, and, letting two balls go, he bunted the third. Running fast, +he slid into first base and beat the throw. Homans kept swiftly on toward +third, drew the throw, and, sliding, was also safe. It was fast work, +and the Wayne players seemed to rise off the bench with the significance +of the play. Worry Arthurs looked on from under the brim of his hat, and +spoke no word. Then Reddy Ray stepped up.</p> + +<p>“They're all left-handed!” shouted a State player. The pitcher looked +at Reddy, then motioned for his outfielders to play deeper. With that +he delivered the ball, which the umpire called a strike. Reddy stood +still and straight while two more balls sped by, then he swung on the +next. A vicious low hit cut out over first base and skipped in great +bounds to the fence. Homans scored. Raymond turned second, going fast. +But it was Ray's speed that electrified the watching players. They +jumped up cheering.</p> + +<p>“Oh, see him run!” yelled Ken.</p> + +<p>He was on third before Raymond reached the plate. Weir lifted a high +fly to left field, and when the ball dropped into the fielder's hands +Ray ran home on the throw-in. Three runs had been scored in a twinkling. +It amazed the State team. They were not slow in bandying remarks among +themselves. “Fast! Who's that red-head? Is this your dub team? Get in +the game, boys!” They began to think more of playing ball and less of +their own superiority. Graves, however, and McCord following him, went +out upon plays to the infield.</p> + +<p>As Ken walked out toward the pitcher's box Homans put a hand on his arm, +and said: “Kid, put them all over. Don't waste any. Make every batter +hit. Keep your nerve. We're back of you out here.” Then Reddy Ray, in +passing, spoke with a cool, quiet faith that thrilled Ken, “Peg, we've +got enough runs now to win.”</p> + +<p>Ken faced the plate all in a white glow. He was far from calmness, but +it was a restless, fiery hurry for the action of the game. He remembered +the look in Worry's eyes, and every word that he had spoken rang in his +ears. Receiving the ball from the umpire, he stepped upon the slab with +a sudden, strange, deep tremor. It passed as quickly, and then he was +eying the first batter. He drew a long breath, standing motionless, with +all the significance of Worry's hope flashing before him, and then he +whirled and delivered the ball. The batter struck at it after it had +passed him, and it cracked in Dean's mitt.</p> + +<p>“Speed!” called the State captain. “Quick eye, there!”</p> + +<p>The batter growled some unintelligible reply. Then he fouled the second +ball, missed the next, and was out. The succeeding State player hit an +easy fly to Homans, and the next had two strikes called upon him, and +swung vainly at the third.</p> + +<p>Dean got a base on balls for Wayne, Trace went out trying to bunt, +and Ken hit into short, forcing Dean at second. Homans lined to third, +retiring the side. The best that the State players could do in their +half was for one man to send a weak grounder to Raymond, one to fly out, +and the other to fail on strikes. Wayne went to bat again, and Raymond +got his base by being hit by a pitched ball. Reddy Ray bunted and was +safe. Weir struck out. Graves rapped a safety through short, scoring +Raymond, and sending Ray to third. Then McCord fouled out to the catcher. +Again, in State's inning, they failed to get on base, being unable to +hit Ken effectively.</p> + +<p>So the game progressed, State slowly losing its aggressive playing, and +Wayne gaining what its opponents had lost. In the sixth Homans reached +his base on an error, stole second, went to third on Raymond's sacrifice, +and scored on Reddy's drive to right. State flashed up in their half, +getting two men to first on misplays of McCord and Weir, and scored a +run on a slow hit to Graves.</p> + +<p>With the bases full, Ken let his arm out and pitched the fast ball at +the limit of his speed. The State batters were helpless before it, but +they scored two runs on passed strikes by Dean. The little catcher had +a hard time judging Ken's jump ball. That ended the run-getting for +State, though they came near scoring again on more fumbling in the +infield. In the eighth Ken landed a safe fly over second, and tallied +on a double by Homans.</p> + +<p>Before Ken knew the game was half over it had ended—Wayne 6, State 3. +His players crowded around him and some one called for the Wayne yell. +It was given with wild vehemence.</p> + +<p>From that moment until dinner was over at the training-house Ken +appeared to be the centre of a humming circle. What was said and +done he never remembered. Then the coach stopped the excitement.</p> + +<p>“Boys, now for a heart-to-heart talk,” he said, with a smile both happy +and grave. “We won to-day, as I predicted. State had a fairly strong team, +but if Ward had received perfect support they would not have got a man +beyond second. That's the only personal mention I'll make. Now, listen....”</p> + +<p>He paused, with his eyes glinting brightly and his jaw quivering.</p> + +<p>“I expected to win, but before the game I never dreamed of our +possibilities. I got a glimpse now of what hard work and a demon +spirit to play together might make this team. I've had an inspiration. +We are goin' to beat Herne and play Place to a standstill.”</p> + +<p>Not a boy moved an eyelash as Arthurs made this statement, +and the sound of a pin dropping could have been heard.</p> + +<p>“To do that we must pull together as no boys ever pulled together +before. We must be all one heart. We must be actuated by one spirit. +Listen! If you will stick together and to me, I'll make a team that +will be a wonder. Never the hittin' team as good as last year's varsity, +but a faster team, a finer machine. Think of that! Think of how we have +been treated this year! For that we'll win all the greater glory. It's +worth all there is in you, boys. You would have the proudest record of +any team that ever played for old Wayne.</p> + +<p>“I love the old college, boys, and I've given it the best years of my +life. If it's anything to you, why, understand that if I fail to build +up a good team this year I shall be let go by those directors who have +made the change in athletics. I could stand that, but—I've a boy of +my own who's preparin' for Wayne, and my heart is set on seein' him +enter—and he said he never will if they let me go. So, you youngsters +and me—we've much to gain. Go to your rooms now and think, think as +you never did before, until the spirit of this thing, the possibility +of it, grips you as it has me.”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XII">Ken Clashes with Graves</p> + + +<p>Two weeks after the contest with State University four more games +with minor colleges had been played and won by Wayne. Hour by hour +the coach had drilled the players; day by day the grilling practice +told in quickening grasp of team-play, in gradual correction of +erratic fielding and wild throwing. Every game a few more students +attended, reluctantly, in half-hearted manner.</p> + +<p>“We're comin' with a rush,” said Worry to Ken. “Say, but Dale and the +old gang have a surprise in store for 'em! And the students—they're +goin' to drop dead pretty soon.... Peg, Murray tells me he's puttin' +weight on you.”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, it's the funniest thing,” replied Ken. “To-day I weighed +one hundred and sixty-four. Worry, I'm afraid I'm getting fat.”</p> + +<p>“Fat, nothin',” snorted Worry. “It's muscle. I told Murray to put beef +on you all he can. Pretty soon you'll be able to peg a ball through the +back-stop. Dean's too light, Peg. He's plucky and will make a catcher, +but he's too light. You're batterin' him all up.”</p> + +<p>Worry shook his head seriously.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he's fine!” exclaimed Ken. “I'm not afraid any more. He digs my +drop out of the dust, and I can't get a curve away from him. He's weak +only on the jump ball, and I don't throw that often, only when I let +drive.”</p> + +<p>“You'll be usin' that often enough against Herne and Place. I'm dependin' +on that for those games. Peg, are you worryin' any, losin' any sleep, over +those games?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed I'm not,” replied Ken, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Say, I wish you'd have a balloon ascension, and have it quick. It ain't +natural, Peg, for you not to get a case of rattles. It's comin' to you, +and I don't want it in any of the big games.”</p> + +<p>“I don't want it either. But Worry, pitching is all a matter of control, +you say so often. I don't believe I could get wild and lose my control if +I tried.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, you sure have the best control of any pitcher I ever coached. It's +your success. It'll make a great pitcher out of you. All you've got to +learn is where to pitch 'em to Herne and Place.”</p> + +<p>“How am I to learn that?”</p> + +<p>“Listen!” Worry whispered. “I'm goin' to send you to Washington next week +to see Place and Herne play Georgetown. You'll pay your little money and +sit in the grand-stand right behind the catcher. You'll have a pencil and a +score card, and you'll be enjoyin' the game. But, Peg, you'll also be usin' +your head, and when you see one of 'em players pull away on a curve, or hit +weak on a drop, or miss a high fast one, or slug a low ball, you will jot +it down on your card. You'll watch Place's hard hitters with hawk eyes, +my boy, and a pitcher's memory. And when they come along to Grant Field +you'll have 'em pretty well sized up.”</p> + +<p>“That's fine, Worry, but is it fair?” queried Ken.</p> + +<p>“Fair? Why, of course. They all do it. We saw Place's captain in the +grand-stand here last spring.”</p> + +<p>The coach made no secret of his pride and faith in Ken. It was this, +perhaps, as much as anything, which kept Ken keyed up. For Ken was +really pitching better ball than he knew how to pitch. He would have +broken his arm for Worry; he believed absolutely in what the coach +told him; he did not think of himself at all.</p> + +<p>Worry, however, had plenty of enthusiasm for his other players. Every +evening after dinner he would call them all about him and talk for an +hour. Sometimes he would tell funny baseball stories; again, he told of +famous Wayne-Place games, and how they had been won or lost; then at other +times he dwelt on the merits and faults of his own team. In speaking of +the swift development of this year's varsity he said it was as remarkable +as it had been unforeseen. He claimed it would be a bewildering surprise +to Wayne students and to the big college teams. He was working toward +the perfection of a fast run-getting machine. In the five games already +played and won a good idea could be gotten of Wayne's team, individually +and collectively. Homans was a scientific short-field hitter and remarkably +sure. Raymond could not bat, but he had developed into a wonder in reaching +first base, by bunt or base on balls, or being hit. Reddy Ray was a hard +and timely batter, and when he got on base his wonderful fleetness made +him almost sure to score. Of the other players Graves batted the best; +but taking the team as a whole, and comparing them with Place or Herne, +it appeared that Reddy and Homans were the only great hitters, and the +two of them, of course, could not make a great hitting team. In fielding, +however, the coach said he had never seen the like. They were all fast, +and Homans was perfect in judgment on fly balls, and Raymond was quick +as lightning to knock down base hits, and as to the intercollegiate +sprinter in left field, it was simply a breath-taking event to see him +run after a ball. Last of all was Ken Ward with his great arm. It was a +strangely assorted team, Worry said, one impossible to judge at the moment, +but it was one to watch.</p> + +<p>“Boys, we're comin' with a rush,” he went on to say. “But somethin's +holdin' us back a little. There's no lack of harmony, yet there's a +drag. In spite of the spirit you've shown—and I want to say it's been +great—the team doesn't work together as one man <span class="i">all</span> the time. I advise +you all to stick closer together. Stay away from the club, and everywhere +except lectures. We've got to be closer 'n brothers. It'll all work out +right before we go up against Herne in June. That game's comin', boys, +and by that time the old college will be crazy. It'll be <span class="i">our</span> turn then.”</p> + +<p>Worry's talks always sank deeply into Ken's mind and set him to thinking +and revolving over and over the gist of them so that he could remember +to his profit.</p> + +<p>He knew that some of the boys had broken training, and he pondered if that +was what caused the drag Worry mentioned. Ken had come to feel the life +and fortunes of the varsity so keenly that he realized how the simplest +deviations from honor might affect the smooth running of the team. It must +be perfectly smooth. And to make it so every player must be of one mind.</p> + +<p>Ken proved to himself how lack of the highest spirit on the part of one +or two of the team tended toward the lowering of the general spirit. For +he began to worry, and almost at once it influenced his playing. He found +himself growing watchful of his comrades and fearful of what they might +be doing. He caught himself being ashamed of his suspicions. He would as +lief have cut off his hand as break his promise to the coach. Perhaps, +however, he exaggerated his feeling and sense of duty. He remembered the +scene in Dale's room the night he refused to smoke and drink; how Dale +had commended his refusal. Nevertheless, he gathered from Dale's remark +to Worry that breaking training was not unusual or particularly harmful.</p> + +<p>“With Dale's team it might not have been so bad,” thought Ken. “But it's +different with us. We've got to make up in spirit what we lack in ability.”</p> + +<p>Weir and McCord occupied the room next to Ken's, and Graves and Trace, +rooming together, were also on that floor. Ken had tried with all his +might to feel friendly toward the third-baseman. He had caught Graves +carrying cake and pie to his room and smoking cigarettes with the window +open. One night Graves took cigarettes from his pocket and offered them +to Kel, Trace, and Ken, who all happened to be in Ken's room at the time. +Trace readily accepted; Kel demurred at first, but finally took one. +Graves then tossed the pack to Ken.</p> + +<p>“No, I don't smoke. Besides, it's breaking training,” said Ken.</p> + +<p>“You make me sick, Ward,” retorted Graves. “You're a wet blanket. Do you +think we're going to be as sissy as that? It's hard enough to stand the +grub we get here, without giving up a little smoke.”</p> + +<p>Ken made no reply, but he found it difficult to smother a hot riot in his +breast. When the other boys had gone to their rooms Ken took Kel to task +about his wrong-doing.</p> + +<p>“Do you think that's the right sort of thing? What would Worry say?”</p> + +<p>“Ken, I don't care about it, not a bit,” replied Kel, flinging his +cigarette out of the window. “But Graves is always asking me to do +things—I hate to refuse. It seems so—”</p> + +<p>“Kel, if Worry finds it out you'll lose your place on the team.”</p> + +<p>“No!” exclaimed Raymond, staring.</p> + +<p>“Mark what I say. I wish you'd stop letting Graves coax you into things.”</p> + +<p>“Ken, he's always smuggling pie and cake and candy into his room. I've +had some of it. Trace said he'd brought in something to drink, too.”</p> + +<p>“It's a shame,” cried Ken, in anger. “I never liked him and I've tried +hard to change it. Now I'm glad I couldn't.”</p> + +<p>“He doesn't have any use for you,” replied Kel. “He's always running +you down to the other boys. What'd you ever do to him, Ken?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it was that potato stunt of mine last fall. He's a Soph, and I hit +him, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“I think it's more than that,” went on Raymond. “Anyway, you look out +for him, because he's aching to spoil your face.”</p> + +<p>“He is, is he?” snapped Ken.</p> + +<p>Ken was too angry to talk any more, and so the boys went to bed. The next +few days Ken discovered that either out of shame or growing estrangement +Raymond avoided him, and he was bitterly hurt. He had come to like the +little second-baseman, and had hoped they would be good friends. It was +easy to see that Graves became daily bolder, and more lax in training, +and his influence upon several of the boys grew stronger. And when Dean, +Schoonover, and Duncan appeared to be joining the clique, Ken decided he +would have to talk to some one, so he went up to see Ray and Homans.</p> + +<p>The sprinter was alone, sitting by his lamp, with books and notes spread +before him.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Peg! come in. You look a little glum. What's wrong?”</p> + +<p>Reddy Ray seemed like an elder brother to Ken, and he found himself +blurting out his trouble. Ray looked thoughtful, and after a moment +he replied in his quiet way:</p> + +<p>“Peg, it's new to you, but it's an old story to me. The track and crew +men seldom break training, which is more than can be said of the other +athletes. It seems to me baseball fellows are the most careless. They +really don't have to train so conscientiously. It's only a kind of form.”</p> + +<p>“But it's different this year,” burst out Ken. “You know what Worry said, +and how he trusts us.”</p> + +<p>“You're right, Peg, only you mustn't take it so hard. Things will work +out all right. Homans and I were talking about that to-day. You see, +Worry wants the boys to elect a captain soon. But perhaps he has not +confided in you youngsters. He will suggest that you elect Homans or +me. Well, I won't run for the place, so it'll be Homans. He's the man +to captain us, that's certain. Graves thinks, though, that he can pull +the wires and be elected captain. He's way off. Besides, Peg, he's +making a big mistake. Worry doesn't like him, and when he finds out +about this break in training we'll have a new third-baseman. No doubt +Blake will play the bag. Graves is the only drag in Worry's baseball +machine now, and he'll not last.... So, Peg, don't think any more about +it. Mind you, the whole team circles round you. You're the pivot, and +as sure as you're born you'll be Wayne's captain next year. That's +something for you to keep in mind and work for. If Graves keeps after +you—hand him one! That's not against rules. Punch him! If Worry knew +the truth he would pat you on the back for slugging Graves. Cheer up, +Peg! Even if Graves has got all the kids on his side, which I doubt, +Homans and I are with you. And you can just bet that Worry Arthurs will +side with us.... Now run along, for I must study.”</p> + +<p>This conversation was most illuminating to Ken. He left Reddy's room +all in a quiver of warm pleasure and friendliness at the great sprinter's +quiet praise and advice. To make such a friend was worth losing a hundred +friends like Graves. He dismissed the third-baseman and his scheming from +mind, and believed Reddy as he had believed Arthurs. But Ken thought much +of what he divined was a glimmering of the inside workings of a college +baseball team. He had one wild start of rapture at the idea of becoming +captain of Wayne's varsity next year, and then he dared think no more +of that.</p> + +<p>The day dawned for Ken to go to Washington, and he was so perturbed at +his responsibilities that he quite forgot to worry about the game Wayne +had to play in his absence. Arthurs intended to pitch Schoonover in that +game, and had no doubt as to its outcome. The coach went to the station +with Ken, once more repeated his instructions, and saw him upon the +train. Certainly there was no more important personage on board that +Washington Limited than Ken Ward. In fact, Ken was so full of importance +and responsibility that he quite divided his time between foolish pride +in his being chosen to “size up” the great college teams and fearful +conjecture as to his ability.</p> + +<p>At any rate, the time flew by, the trip seemed short, and soon he was +on the Georgetown field. It was lucky that he arrived early and got +a seat in the middle of the grand-stand, for there was a throng in +attendance when the players came on the diamond. The noisy bleachers, +the merry laughter, the flashing colors, and especially the bright +gowns and pretty faces of the girls gave Ken pleasurable consciousness +of what it would mean to play before such a crowd. At Wayne he had +pitched to empty seats. Remembering Worry's prophecy, however, he +was content to wait.</p> + +<p>From that moment his duty absorbed him. He found it exceedingly +fascinating to study the batters, and utterly forgot his responsibility. +Not only did he jot down on his card his idea of the weakness and +strength of the different hitters, but he compared what he would have +pitched to them with what was actually pitched. Of course, he had no +test of his comparison, but he felt intuitively that he had the better +of it. Watching so closely, Ken had forced home to him Arthurs' repeated +assertion that control of the ball made a pitcher. Both pitchers in this +game were wild. Locating the plate with them was more a matter of luck +than ability. The Herne pitcher kept wasting balls and getting himself +in the hole, and then the heavy Georgetown players would know when he +had to throw a strike, if he could, and accordingly they hit hard. +They beat Herne badly.</p> + +<p>The next day in the game with Place it was a different story. Ken +realized he was watching a great team. They reminded him of Dale's +varsity, though they did not play that fiendish right-field-hitting +game. Ken had a numbness come over him at the idea of facing this +Place team. It soon passed, for they had their vulnerable places. +It was not so much that they hit hard on speed and curves, for they +got them where they wanted them. Keene flied out on high fast balls +over the inside corner; Starke bit on low drops; Martin was weak on +a slow ball; MacNeff, the captain, could not touch speed under his +chin, and he always struck at it. On the other hand, he killed a low +ball. Prince was the only man who, in Ken's judgment, seemed to have +no weakness. These men represented the batting strength of Place, and +Ken, though he did not in the least underestimate them, had no fear. +He would have liked to pitch against them right there.</p> + +<p>“It's all in control of the ball,” thought Ken. “Here are seventeen +bases on balls in two games—four pitchers. They're wild.... But +suppose I got wild, too?”</p> + +<p>The idea made Ken shiver.</p> + +<p>He travelled all night, sleeping on the train, and got home to the +training-house about nine the next morning. Worry was out, Scotty said, +and the boys had all gone over to college. Ken went up-stairs and found +Raymond in bed.</p> + +<p>“Why, Kel, what's the matter?” asked Ken.</p> + +<p>“I'm sick,” replied Kel. He was pale and appeared to be in distress.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I'm sorry. Can't I do something? Get you some medicine? Call Murray?”</p> + +<p>“Ken, don't call anybody, unless you want to see me disgraced. Worry +got out this morning before he noticed my absence from breakfast. I was +scared to death.”</p> + +<p>“Scared? Disgraced?”</p> + +<p>“Ken, I drank a little last night. It always makes me sick. You know +I've a weak stomach.”</p> + +<p>“Kel, you didn't drink, <span class="i">say</span> you didn't!” implored Ken, sitting +miserably down on the bed.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did. I believe I was half drunk. I can't stand anything. +I'm sick, sick of myself, too, this morning. And I hate Graves.”</p> + +<p>Ken jumped up with kindling eyes.</p> + +<p>“Kel, you've gone back on me—we'd started to be such friends—I tried +to persuade you—”</p> + +<p>“I know. I'm sorry, Ken. But I really liked you best. I was—you know +how it is, Ken. If only Worry don't find it out!”</p> + +<p>“Tell him,” said Ken, quickly.</p> + +<p>“What?” groaned Kel, in fright.</p> + +<p>“Tell him. Let me tell him for you.”</p> + +<p>“No—no—no. He'd fire me off the team, and I couldn't stand that.”</p> + +<p>“I'll bet Worry wouldn't do anything of the kind. Maybe he knows +more than you think.”</p> + +<p>“I'm afraid to tell him, Ken. I just can't tell him.”</p> + +<p>“But you gave your word of honor not to break training. The only +thing left is to confess.”</p> + +<p>“I won't tell, Ken. It's not so much my own place on the team—there +are the other fellows.”</p> + +<p>Ken saw that it was no use to argue with Raymond while he was so sick +and discouraged, so he wisely left off talking and did his best to make +him comfortable. Raymond dropped asleep after a little, and when he +awakened just before lunch-time he appeared better.</p> + +<p>“I won't be able to practise to-day,” he said; “but I'll go down to lunch.”</p> + +<p>As he was dressing the boys began to come in from college and ran whistling +up the stairs.</p> + +<p>Graves bustled into the room with rather anxious haste.</p> + +<p>“How're you feeling?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Pretty rocky. Graves—I told Ward about it,” said Raymond.</p> + +<p>Upon his hurried entrance Graves had not observed Ken.</p> + +<p>“What did you want to do that for?” he demanded, arrogantly.</p> + +<p>Raymond looked at him, but made no reply.</p> + +<p>“Ward, I suppose you'll squeal,” said Graves, sneeringly. “That'll +about be your speed.”</p> + +<p>Ken rose and, not trusting himself to speak, remained silent.</p> + +<p>“You sissy!” cried Graves, hotly. “Will you peach on us to Arthurs?”</p> + +<p>“No. But if you don't get out of my room I'll hand you one,” +replied Ken, his voice growing thick.</p> + +<p>Graves's face became red as fire.</p> + +<p>“What? Why, you white-faced, white-haired freshman! I've been aching +to punch you!”</p> + +<p>“Well, why don't you commence?”</p> + +<p>With the first retort Ken had felt a hot trembling go over him, +and having yielded to his anger he did not care what happened.</p> + +<p>“Ken—Graves,” pleaded Raymond, white as a sheet. “Don't—please!” +He turned from one to the other. “Don't scrap!”</p> + +<p>“Graves, it's up to some one to call you, and I'm going to do it,” +said Ken, passionately. “You've been after me all season, but I +wouldn't care for that. It's your rotten influence on Kel and the +other boys that makes me wild. You are the drag in this baseball +team. You are a crack ball-player, but you don't know what college +spirit means. You're a mucker!”</p> + +<p>“I'll lick you for that!” raved Graves, shaking his fists.</p> + +<p>“You can't lick me!”</p> + +<p>“Come outdoors. I dare you to come outdoors. I dare you!”</p> + +<p>Ken strode out of the room and started down the hall. “Come on!” +he called, grimly, and ran down the stairs. Graves hesitated a +moment, then followed.</p> + +<p>Raymond suddenly called after them:</p> + +<p>“Give it to him, Ken! Slug him! Beat him all up!”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XIII">Friendship</p> + + +<p>A half-hour or less afterward Ken entered the training-house. It chanced +that the boys, having come in, were at the moment passing through the +hall to the dining-room, and with them was Worry Arthurs.</p> + +<p>“Hello! you back? What's the matter with you?” demanded the coach.</p> + +<p>Ken's lips were puffed and bleeding, and his chin was bloody. Sundry +red and dark marks disfigured his usually clear complexion. His eyes +were blazing, and his hair rumpled down over his brow.</p> + +<p>“You've been in a scrap,” declared Worry.</p> + +<p>“I know it,” said Ken. “Let me go up and wash.”</p> + +<p>Worry had planted himself at the foot of the stairway in front of Ken. +The boys stood silent and aghast. Suddenly there came thumps upon the +stairs, and Raymond appeared, jumping down three steps at a time. He +dodged under Worry's arm and plunged at Ken to hold him with both hands.</p> + +<p>“Ken! You're all bloody!” he exclaimed, in great excitement. “He didn't +lick you? Say he didn't! He's got to fight me, too! You're all bunged up!”</p> + +<p>“Wait till you see him!” muttered Ken.</p> + +<p>“A-huh!” said Worry. “Been scrappin' with Graves! What for?”</p> + +<p>“It's a personal matter,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“Come, no monkey-biz with me,” said the coach, sharply. “Out with it!”</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arthurs, it's my fault,” burst out Raymond, flushed and eager. +“Ken was fighting on my account.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn't anything of the kind,” retorted Ken, vehemently.</p> + +<p>“Yes it was,” cried Raymond, “and I'm going to tell why.”</p> + +<p>The hall door opened to admit Graves. He was dishevelled, dirty, +battered, and covered with blood. When he saw the group in the hall +he made as if to dodge out.</p> + +<p>“Here, come on! Take your medicine,” called Worry, tersely.</p> + +<p>Graves shuffled in, cast down and sheepish, a very different fellow +from his usual vaunting self.</p> + +<p>“Now, Raymond, what's this all about?” demanded Worry.</p> + +<p>Raymond changed color, but he did not hesitate an instant.</p> + +<p>“Ken came in this morning and found me sick in bed. I told him I had +been half drunk last night—and that Graves had gotten me to drink. +Then Graves came in. He and Ken had hard words. They went outdoors +to fight.”</p> + +<p>“Would you have told me?” roared the coach in fury. “Would you have +come to me with this if I hadn't caught Peg?”</p> + +<p>Raymond faced him without flinching.</p> + +<p>“At first I thought not—when Ken begged me to confess I just couldn't. +But now I know I would.”</p> + +<p>At that Worry lost his sudden heat, and then he turned to the stricken +Graves.</p> + +<p>“Mebbe it'll surprise you, Graves, to learn that I knew a little of +what you've been doin'. I told Homans to go to you in a quiet way and +tip off your mistake. I hoped you'd see it. But you didn't. Then +you've been knockin' Ward all season, for no reason I could discover +but jealousy. Now, listen! Peg Ward has done a lot for me already this +year, and he'll do more. But even if he beats Place, it won't mean any +more to me than the beatin' he's given you. Now, you pack your things +and get out of here. There's no position for you on this varsity.”</p> + +<p>Without a word in reply and amid intense silence Graves went slowly +up-stairs. When he disappeared Worry sank into a chair, and looked as +if he was about to collapse. Little Trace walked hesitatingly forward +with the manner of one propelled against his will.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arthurs, I—I,” he stammered—“I'm guilty, too. I broke training. +I want to—”</p> + +<p>The coach waved him back. “I don't want to hear it, not another +word—from anybody. It's made me sick. I can't stand any more. +Only I see I've got to change my rules. There won't be any rules +any more. You can all do as you like. I'd rather have you all go +stale than practise deceit on me. I cut out the trainin' rules.”</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">No!</span>” The team rose up as one man and flung the refusal at the coach.</p> + +<p>“Worry, we won't stand for that,” spoke up Reddy Ray. His smooth, cool +voice was like oil on troubled waters. “I think Homans and I can answer +for the kids from now on. Graves was a disorganizer—that's the least +I'll say of him. We'll elect Homans captain of the team, and then we'll +cut loose like a lot of demons. It's been a long, hard drill for you, +Worry, but we're in the stretch now and going to finish fast. We've +been a kind of misfit team all spring. You've had a blind faith that +something could be made out of us. Homans has waked up to our hidden +strength. And I go further than that. I've played ball for years. I +know the game. I held down left field for two seasons on the greatest +college team ever developed out West. That's new to you. Well, it gives +me license to talk a little. I want to tell you that I can <span class="i">feel</span> what's +in this team. It's like the feeling I have when I'm running against a +fast man in the sprints. From now on we'll be a family of brothers with +one idea. And that'll be to play Place off their feet.”</p> + +<p>Coach Arthurs sat up as if he had been given the elixir of life. +Likewise the members of the team appeared to be under the spell +of a powerful stimulus. The sprinter's words struck fire from +all present.</p> + +<p>Homans' clear gray eyes were like live coals. “Boys! One rousing cheer +for Worry Arthurs and for Wayne!”</p> + +<p>Lusty, strained throats let out the cheer with a deafening roar.</p> + +<p>It was strange and significant at that moment to see Graves, white-faced +and sullen, come down the stairs and pass through the hall and out of the +door. It was as if discord, selfishness, and wavering passed out with him. +Arthurs and Homans and Ray could not have hoped for a more striking lesson +to the young players.</p> + +<p>Dave, the colored waiter, appeared in the doorway of the dining-room. +“Mr. Arthurs, I done call yo' all. Lunch is sho' gittin' cold.”</p> + +<p>That afternoon Wayne played the strong Hornell University nine.</p> + +<p>Blake, new at third base for Wayne, was a revelation. He was all legs +and arms. Weir accepted eight chances. Raymond, sick or not, was all +over the infield, knocking down grounders, backing up every play. To +McCord, balls in the air or at his feet were all the same. Trace caught +a foul fly right off the bleachers. Homans fielded with as much speed +as the old varsity's centre and with better judgment. Besides, he made +four hits and four runs. Reddy Ray drove one ball into the bleachers, +and on a line-drive to left field he circled the bases in time that +Murray said was wonderful. Dean stood up valiantly to his battering, +and for the first game had no passed balls. And Ken Ward whirled +tirelessly in the box, and one after another he shot fast balls over +the plate. He made the Hornell players hit; he had no need to extend +himself to the use of the long swing and whip of his arm that produced +the jump ball; and he shut them out without a run, and gave them only +two safe hits. All through the game Worry Arthurs sat on the bench +without giving an order or a sign. His worried look had vanished with +the crude playing of his team.</p> + +<p>That night the Hornell captain, a veteran player of unquestionable +ability, was entertained at Carlton Club by Wayne friends, and he +expressed himself forcibly: “We came over to beat Wayne's weak team. +It'll be some time till we discover what happened. Young Ward has the +most magnificent control and speed. He's absolutely relentless. And +that frog-legged second-baseman—oh, say, can't he cover ground! Homans +is an all-round star. Then, your red-headed Ray, the sprinter—he's a +marvel. Ward, Homans, Ray—they're demons, and they're making demons +of the kids. I can't understand why Wayne students don't support their +team. It's strange.”</p> + +<p>What the Hornell captain said went from lip to lip throughout the club, +and then it spread, like a flame in wind-blown grass, from club to +dormitory, and thus over all the university.</p> + +<p>“Boys, the college is wakin' up,” said Worry, rubbing his hands. +“Yesterday's game jarred 'em. They can't believe their own ears. Why, +Hornell almost beat Dale's team last spring. Now, kids, look out. We'll +stand for no fussin' over us. We don't want any jollyin'. We've waited +long for encouragement. It didn't come, and now we'll play out the +string alone. There'll be a rush to Grant Field. It cuts no ice with +us. Let 'em come to see the boys they hissed and guyed early in the +spring. We'll show 'em a few things. We'll make 'em speechless. We'll +make 'em so ashamed they won't know what to do. We'll repay all their +slights by beatin' Place.”</p> + +<p>Worry was as excited as on the day he discovered that Ken was a pitcher.</p> + +<p>“One more word, boys,” he went on. “Keep together now. Run back here to +your rooms as quick as you get leave from college. Be civil when you are +approached by students, but don't mingle, not yet. Keep to yourselves. +Your reward is comin'. It'll be great. Only wait!”</p> + +<p>And that was the last touch of fire which moulded Worry's players into +a family of brothers. Close and warm and fine was the culmination of +their friendship. On the field they were dominated by one impulse, +almost savage in its intensity. When they were off the field the +springs of youth burst forth to flood the hours with fun.</p> + +<p>In the mornings when the mail-man came there was always a wild scramble +for letters. And it developed that Weir received more than his share. +He got mail every day, and his good-fortune could not escape the lynx +eyes of his comrades. Nor could the size and shape of the envelope and +the neat, small handwriting fail to be noticed. Weir always stole off +by himself to read his daily letter, trying to escape a merry chorus of +tantalizing remarks.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Sugar!”</p> + +<p>“Dreamy Eyes!”</p> + +<p>“Gawge, the pink letter has come!”</p> + +<p>Weir's reception of these sallies earned him the name of Puff.</p> + +<p>One morning, for some unaccountable reason, Weir did not get down-stairs +when the mail arrived. Duncan got the pink letter, scrutinized the writing +closely, and put the letter in his coat. Presently Weir came bustling down.</p> + +<p>“Who's got the mail?” he asked, quickly.</p> + +<p>“No letters this morning,” replied some one.</p> + +<p>“Is this Sunday?” asked Weir, rather stupidly.</p> + +<p>“Nope. I meant no letters for you.”</p> + +<p>Weir looked blank, then stunned, then crestfallen. Duncan handed out the +pink envelope. The boys roared, and Weir strode off in high dudgeon.</p> + +<p>That day Duncan purchased a box of pink envelopes, and being expert with +a pen, he imitated the neat handwriting and addressed pink envelopes to +every boy in the training-house. Next morning no one except Weir seemed +in a hurry to answer the postman's ring. He came in with the letters and +his jaw dropping. It so happened that his letter was the very last one, +and when he got to it the truth flashed over him. Then the peculiar +appropriateness of the nickname Puff was plainly manifest. One by one +the boys slid off their chairs to the floor, and at last Weir had to +join in the laugh on him.</p> + +<p>Each of the boys in turn became the victim of some prank. Raymond +betrayed Ken's abhorrence of any kind of perfume, and straightway +there was a stealthy colloquy. Cheap perfume of a most penetrating +and paralyzing odor was liberally purchased. In Ken's absence from +his room all the clothing that he did not have on his back was +saturated. Then the conspirators waited for him to come up the +stoop, and from their hiding-place in a window of the second floor +they dropped an extra quart upon him.</p> + +<p>Ken vowed vengeance that would satisfy him thrice over, and he bided +his time until he learned who had perpetrated the outrage.</p> + +<p>One day after practice his opportunity came. Raymond, Weir, and Trace, +the guilty ones, went with Ken to the training quarters to take the +steam bath that Murray insisted upon at least once every week. It so +turned out that the four were the only players there that afternoon. +While the others were undressing, Ken bribed Scotty to go out on an +errand, and he let Murray into his scheme. Now, Murray not only had +acquired a strong liking for Ken, but he was exceedingly fond of a joke.</p> + +<p>“All I want to know,” whispered Ken, “is if I might stew them too +much—really scald them, you know?”</p> + +<p>“No danger,” whispered Murray. “That'll be the fun of it. You can't +hurt them. But they'll think they're dying.”</p> + +<p>He hustled Raymond, Weir, and Trace into the tanks and fastened the lids, +and carefully tucked towels round their necks to keep in the steam.</p> + +<p>“Lots of stew to-day,” he said, turning the handles. “Hello! Where's +Scotty?... Peg, will you watch these boys a minute while I step out?”</p> + +<p>“You bet I will,” called Ken to the already disappearing Murray.</p> + +<p>The three cooped-in boys looked askance at Ken.</p> + +<p>“Wull, I'm not much stuck—” Raymond began glibly enough, and then, +becoming conscious that he might betray an opportunity to Ken, he +swallowed his tongue.</p> + +<p>“What'd you say?” asked Ken, pretending curiosity. Suddenly he began +to jump up and down. “Oh, my! Hullabelee! Schoodoorady! What a chance! +You gave it away!”</p> + +<p>“Look what he's doing!” yelled Trace.</p> + +<p>“Hyar!” added Weir.</p> + +<p>“Keep away from those pipes!” chimed in Raymond.</p> + +<p>“Boys, I've been laying for you, but I never thought I'd get a chance +like this. If Murray only stays out three minutes—just three minutes!”</p> + +<p>“Three minutes! You idiot, you won't keep us in here that long?” +asked Weir, in alarm.</p> + +<p>“Oh no, not at all.... Puff, I think you can stand a little more steam.”</p> + +<p>Ken turned the handle on full.</p> + +<p>“Kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch.”</p> + +<p>To the accompaniment of Raymond's threats he turned the second handle.</p> + +<p>“Trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? Now roast!”</p> + +<p>The heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and +their faces to take on a flush. Ken leisurely surveyed them and then +did an Indian war-dance in the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>“Here, let me out! Ken, you know how delicate I am,” implored Raymond.</p> + +<p>“I couldn't entertain the idea for a second,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“I'll lick you!” yelled Raymond.</p> + +<p>“My lad, you've got a brain-storm,” returned Ken, in grieved tones. +“Not in the wildest flights of your nightmares have you ever said +anything so impossible as that.”</p> + +<p>“Ken, dear Ken, dear old Peggie,” cried Trace, “you know I've got a +skinned place on my hip where I slid yesterday. Steam isn't good for +that, Worry says. He'll be sore. You must let me out.”</p> + +<p>“I intend to see, Willie, that you'll be sore too, and skinned all over,” +replied Ken.</p> + +<p>“Open this lid! At once!” roared Weir, in sudden anger. His big +eyes rolled.</p> + +<p>“Bah!” taunted Ken.</p> + +<p>Then all three began to roar at Ken at once. “Brute! Devil! +Help! Help! Help! We'll fix you for this!... It's hotter! +it's fire! Aghh! Ouch! Oh! Ah-h-h!... O-o-o-o!... <span class="sc">Murder</span>! MURDER-R!”</p> + +<p>At this juncture Murray ran in.</p> + +<p>“What on earth! Peg, what did you do?”</p> + +<p>“I only turned on the steam full tilt,” replied Ken, innocently.</p> + +<p>“Why, you shouldn't have done that,” said Murray, in pained astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Stop talking about it! Let me out!” shrieked Raymond.</p> + +<p>Ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room.</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XIV">The Herne Game</p> + + +<p>On the morning of the first of June, the day scheduled for the opening +game with Herne, Worry Arthurs had Ken Ward closeted with Homans and +Reddy Ray. Worry was trying his best to be soberly calculating in regard +to the outcome of the game. He was always trying to impress Ken with the +uncertainty of baseball. But a much younger and less observing boy than +Ken could have seen through the coach. Worry was dead sure of the result, +certain that the day would see a great gathering of Wayne students, and +he could not hide his happiness. And the more he betrayed himself the +more he growled at Ken.</p> + +<p>“Well, we ain't goin' to have that balloon-ascension to-day, are we?” +he demanded. “Here we've got down to the big games, and you haven't +been up in the air yet. I tell you it ain't right.”</p> + +<p>“But, Worry, I couldn't go off my head and get rattled just to please +you, could I?” implored Ken. To Ken this strain of the coach's had grown +to be as serious as it was funny.</p> + +<p>“Aw! talk sense,” said Worry. “Why, you haven't pitched to a college +crowd yet. Wait! Wait till you see that crowd over to Place next week! +Thousands of students crazier 'n Indians, and a flock of girls that'll +make you bite your tongue off. Ten thousand yellin' all at once.”</p> + +<p>“Let them yell,” replied Ken; “I'm aching to pitch before a crowd. +It has been pretty lonesome at Grant Field all season.”</p> + +<p>“Let 'em yell, eh?” retorted Worry. “All right, my boy, it's comin' to +you. And if you lose your nut and get slammed all over the lot, don't +come to me for sympathy.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn't. I can take a licking. Why, Worry, you talk as if—as if I'd +done something terrible. What's the matter with me? I've done every single +thing you wanted—just as well as I could do it. What are you afraid of?”</p> + +<p>“You're gettin' swelled on yourself,” said the coach, deliberately.</p> + +<p>The blood rushed to Ken's face until it was scarlet. He was so astounded +and hurt that he could not speak. Worry looked at him once, then turning +hastily away, he walked to the window.</p> + +<p>“Peg, it ain't much wonder,” he went on, smoothly, “and I'm not holdin' +it against you. But I want you to forget yourself—”</p> + +<p>“I've never had a thought of myself,” retorted Ken, hotly.</p> + +<p>“I want you to go in to-day like—like an automatic machine,” went +on Worry, as if Ken had not spoken. “There'll be a crowd out, the +first of the season. Mebbe they'll throw a fit. Anyway, it's our first +big game. As far as the university goes, this is our trial. The students +are up in the air; they don't know what to think. Mebbe there won't be +a cheer at first.... But, Peg, if we beat Herne to-day they'll tear down +the bleachers.”</p> + +<p>“Well, all I've got to say is that you can order new lumber for the +bleachers—because we're going to win,” replied Ken, with a smouldering +fire in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“There you go again! If you're not stuck on yourself, it's too much +confidence. You won't be so chipper about three this afternoon, mebbe. +Listen! The Herne players got into town last night, and some of them +talked a little. It's just as well you didn't see the morning papers. +It came to me straight that Gallagher, the captain, and Stern, the +first-baseman, said you were pretty good for a kid freshman, but a +little too swelled to stand the gaff in a big game. They expect you +to explode before the third innin'. I wasn't goin' to tell you, Peg, +but you're so—”</p> + +<p>“They said that, did they?” cried Ken. He jumped up with paling cheek +and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under Worry's nose trembled +like a shaking leaf. “What I won't do to them will be funny! Swelled! +Explode! Stand the gaff! Look here, Worry, maybe it's true, but I don't +believe it.... <span class="i">I'll beat this Herne team!</span> Do you get that?”</p> + +<p>“Now you're talkin',” replied Worry, with an entire change of manner. +“You saw the Herne bunch play. They can field, but how about hittin'?”</p> + +<p>“Gallagher, Stern, Hill, and Burr are the veterans of last year's varsity,” +went on Ken, rapidly, as one who knew his subject. “They can hit—if they +get what they like.”</p> + +<p>“Now you're talkin'. How about Gallagher?”</p> + +<p>“He hits speed. He couldn't hit a slow ball with a paddle.”</p> + +<p>“Now you're talkin'. There's Stern, how'd you size him?”</p> + +<p>“He's weak on a low curve, in or out, or a drop.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, you're talkin' some now. How about Hill?”</p> + +<p>“Hill is a bunter. A high ball in close, speedy, would tie him in a knot.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, hurry! There's Burr.”</p> + +<p>“Burr's the best of the lot, a good waiter and hard hitter, but he +invariably hits a high curve up in the air.”</p> + +<p>“All right. So far so good. How about the rest of the team?”</p> + +<p>“I'll hand them up a straight, easy ball and let them hit. I tell you +I've got Herne beaten, and if Gallagher or any one else begins to guy +me I'll laugh in his face.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you will?... Say, you go down to your room now, and stay there till +time for lunch. Study or read. Don't think another minute about this game.”</p> + +<p>Ken strode soberly out of the room.</p> + +<p>It was well for Ken that he did not see what happened immediately after +his exit. Worry and Homans fell into each other's arms.</p> + +<p>“Say, fellows, how I hated to do it!” Worry choked with laughter and +contrition. “It was the hardest task I ever had. But, Cap, you know we +had to make Peg sore. He's too blamed good-natured. Oh, but didn't he +take fire! He'll make some of those Herne guys play low-bridge to-day. +Wouldn't it be great if he gave Gallagher the laugh?”</p> + +<p>“Worry, don't you worry about that,” said Homans. “And it would +please me, too, for Gallagher is about as wordy and pompous as any +captain I've seen.”</p> + +<p>“I think you were a little hard on Ken,” put in Reddy. His quiet voice +drew Worry and Homans from their elation. “Of course, it was necessary +to rouse Ken's fighting blood, but you didn't choose the right way. +You hurt his feelings. You know, Worry, that the boy is not in the +least swelled.”</p> + +<p>“'Course I know it, Reddy. Why, Peg's too modest. But I want him to +be dead in earnest to-day. Mind you, I'm thinkin' of Place. He'll beat +Herne to a standstill. I worked on his feelin's just to get him all +stirred up. You know there's always the chance of rattles in any young +player, especially a pitcher. If he's mad he won't be so likely to get +'em. So I hurt his feelin's. I'll make it up to him, don't you fear +for that, Reddy.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you had waited till we go over to Place next week,” replied Ray. +“You can't treat him that way twice. Over there's where I would look for +his weakening. But it may be he won't ever weaken. If he ever does it'll +be because of the crowd and not the players.”</p> + +<p>“I think so, too. A yellin' mob will be new to Peg. But, fellows, +I'm only askin' one game from Herne and one, or a good close game, +from Place. That'll give Wayne the best record ever made. Look at +our standin' now. Why, the newspapers are havin' a fit. Since I +picked the varsity we haven't lost a game. Think of that! Those +early games don't count. We've had an unbroken string of victories, +Peg pitchin' twelve, and Schoonover four. And if wet grounds and +other things hadn't cancelled other games we'd have won more.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we're in the stretch now, Worry, and running strong. We'll +win three out of these four big games,” rejoined Reddy.</p> + +<p>“Oh, say, that'd be too much! I couldn't stand it! Oh, say, Cap, don't +you think Reddy, for once, is talkin' about as swift as he sprints?”</p> + +<p>“I'm afraid to tell you, Worry,” replied Homans, earnestly. “When I +look back at our work I can't realize it. But it's time to wake up. +The students over at college are waking up. They will be out to-day. +You are the one to judge whether we're a great team or not. We keep +on making runs. It's runs that count. I think, honestly, Worry, that +after to-day we'll be in the lead for championship honors. And I hold +my breath when I tell you.”</p> + +<p>It was remarkably quiet about the training-house all that morning. The +coach sent a light lunch to the boys in their rooms. They had orders to +be dressed, and to report in the reading-room at one-thirty.</p> + +<p>Raymond came down promptly on time.</p> + +<p>“Where's Peg?” asked Worry.</p> + +<p>“Why, I thought he was here, ahead of me,” replied Raymond, +in surprise.</p> + +<p>A quick survey of the uniformed players proved the absence of +Ken Ward and Reddy Ray. Worry appeared startled out of speech, +and looked helplessly at Homans. Then Ray came down-stairs, bat +in one hand, shoes and glove in the other. He seated himself upon +the last step and leisurely proceeded to put on his shoes.</p> + +<p>“Reddy, did you see Peg?” asked Worry, anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Sure, I saw him,” replied the sprinter.</p> + +<p>“Well?” growled the coach. “Where is he? Sulkin' because I called him?”</p> + +<p>“Not so you'd notice it,” answered Reddy, in his slow, careless manner. +“I just woke him up.”</p> + +<p>“What!” yelled Arthurs.</p> + +<p>“Peg came to my room after lunch and went to sleep. I woke him just now. +He'll be down in a minute.”</p> + +<p>Worry evidently could not reply at the moment, but he began to beam.</p> + +<p>“What would Gallagher say to that?” asked Captain Homans, with a smile. +“Wayne's varsity pitcher asleep before a Herne game! Oh no, I guess +that's not pretty good! Worry, could you ask any more?”</p> + +<p>“Cap, I'll never open my face to him again,” blurted out the coach.</p> + +<p>Ken appeared at the head of the stairs and had started down, when the +door-bell rang. Worry opened the door to admit Murray, the trainer; +Dale, the old varsity captain, and the magnificently built Stevens, +guard and captain of the football team.</p> + +<p>“Hello! Worry,” called out Murray, cheerily. “How're the kids? Boys, +you look good to me. Trim and fit, and all cool and quiet-like. Reddy, +be careful of your ankles and legs to-day. After the meet next week you +can cut loose and run bases like a blue streak.”</p> + +<p>Dale stepped forward, earnest and somewhat concerned, but with a winning +frankness.</p> + +<p>“Worry, will you let Stevens and me sit on the bench with the boys to-day?”</p> + +<p>Worry's face took on the color of a thunder-cloud. “I'm not the captain,” +he replied. “Ask Homans.”</p> + +<p>“How about it, Roy?” queried Dale.</p> + +<p>Homans was visibly affected by surprise, pleasure, and something more. +While he hesitated, perhaps not trusting himself to reply quickly, +Stevens took a giant stride to the fore.</p> + +<p>“Homans, we've got a hunch that Wayne's going to win,” he said, in +a deep-bass voice. “A few of us have been tipped off, and we got it +straight. But the students don't know it yet. So Dale and I thought +we'd like them to see how we feel about it—before this game. You've +had a rotten deal from the students this year. But they'll more than +make it up when you beat Herne. The whole college is waiting and +restless.”</p> + +<p>Homans, recovering himself, faced the two captains courteously and +gratefully, and with a certain cool dignity.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, fellows! It's fine of you to offer to sit with us on the +bench. I thank you on behalf of the varsity. But—not to-day. All season +we've worked and fought without support, and now we're going to beat +Herne without support. When we've done that you and Dale—all the +college—can't come too quick to suit us.”</p> + +<p>“I think I'd say the same thing, if I were in your place,” said Dale. +“And I'll tell you right here that when I was captain I never plugged +any harder to win than I'll plug to-day.”</p> + +<p>Then these two famous captains of championship teams turned to Homans' +players and eyed them keenly, their faces working, hands clenched, +their powerful frames vibrating with the feeling of the moment. That +moment was silent, eloquent. It linked Homans' team to the great +athletic fame of the university. It radiated the spirit to conquer, +the glory of past victories, the strength of honorable defeats. Then +Dale and Stevens went out, leaving behind them a charged atmosphere.</p> + +<p>“I ain't got a word to say,” announced Worry to the players.</p> + +<p>“And I've very little,” added Captain Homans. “We're all on edge, and +being drawn down so fine we may be over-eager. Force that back. It +doesn't matter if we make misplays. We've made many this season, but +we've won all the same. At the bat, remember to keep a sharp eye on +the base-runner, and when he signs he is going down, bunt or hit to +advance him. That's all.”</p> + +<p>Ken Ward walked to the field between Worry Arthurs and Reddy Ray. +Worry had no word to say, but he kept a tight grip on Ken's arm.</p> + +<p>“Peg, I've won many a sprint by not underestimating my opponent,” +said Reddy, quietly. “Now you go at Herne for all you're worth from +the start.”</p> + +<p>When they entered the field there were more spectators in the +stands than had attended all the other games together. In a far +corner the Herne players in dark-blue uniforms were practising +batting. Upon the moment the gong called them in for their turn +at field practice. The Wayne team batted and bunted a few balls, +and then Homans led them to the bench.</p> + +<p>Upon near view the grand-stand and bleachers seemed a strange sight to +Ken Ward. He took one long look at the black-and-white mass of students +behind the back-stop, at the straggling lines leading to the gates, at +the rapidly filling rows to right and left, and then he looked no more. +Already an immense crowd was present. Still it was not a typical college +baseball audience. Ken realized that at once. It was quiet, orderly, +expectant, and watchful. Very few girls were there. The students as a +body had warmed to curiosity and interest, but not to the extent of +bringing the girls. After that one glance Ken resolutely kept his eyes +upon the ground. He was conscious of a feeling that he wanted to spring +up and leap at something. And he brought all his will to force back his +over-eagerness. He heard the crack of the ball, the shouts of the Herne +players, the hum of voices in the grand-stand, and the occasional cheers +of Herne rooters. There were no Wayne cheers.</p> + +<p>“Warm up a little,” said Worry, in his ear.</p> + +<p>Ken peeled off his sweater and walked out with Dean. A long +murmur ran throughout the stands. Ken heard many things said +of him, curiously, wonderingly, doubtfully, and he tried not +to hear more. Then he commenced to pitch to Dean. Worry stood +near him and kept whispering to hold in his speed and just to +use his arm easily. It was difficult, for Ken felt that his arm +wanted to be cracked like a buggy-whip.</p> + +<p>“That'll do,” whispered Worry. “We're only takin' five minutes' +practice.... Say, but there's a crowd! Are you all right, Peg—cool-like +and determined?... Good! Say—but Peg, you'd better look these fellows +over.”</p> + +<p>“I remember them all,” replied Ken. “That's Gallagher on the end of +the bench; Burr is third from him; Stern's fussing over the bats, and +there's Hill, the light-headed fellow, looking this way. There's—”</p> + +<p>“That'll do,” said Worry. “There goes the gong. It's all off now. +Homans has chosen to take the field. I guess mebbe you won't show +'em how to pitch a new white ball! Get at 'em now!” Then he called +Ken back as if impelled, and whispered to him in a husky voice: +“It's been tough for you and for me. Listen! Here's where it begins +to be sweet.”</p> + +<p>Ken trotted out to the box, to the encouraging voices of the infield, +and he even caught Reddy Ray's low, thrilling call from the far outfield.</p> + +<p>“Play!” With the ringing order, which quieted the audience, the umpire +tossed a white ball to Ken.</p> + +<p>For a single instant Ken trembled ever so slightly in all his limbs, +and the stands seemed a revolving black-and-white band. Then the emotion +was as if it had never been. He stepped upon the slab, keen-sighted, +cool, and with his pitching game outlined in his mind.</p> + +<p>Burr, the curly-haired leader of Herne's batting list, took his +position to the left of the plate. Ken threw him an underhand curve, +sweeping high and over the inside corner. Burr hit a lofty fly to +Homans. Hill, the bunter, was next. For him Ken shot one straight +over the plate. Hill let it go by, and it was a strike. Ken put +another in the same place, and Hill, attempting to bunt, fouled +a little fly, which Dean caught. Gallagher strode third to bat. +He used a heavy club, stood right-handed over the plate, and looked +aggressive. Ken gave the captain a long study and then swung slowly, +sending up a ball that floated like a feather. Gallagher missed it. +On the second pitch he swung heavily at a slow curve far off the +outside. For a third Ken tried the speedy drop, and the captain, +letting it go, was out on strikes.</p> + +<p>The sides changed. Worry threw a sweater around Ken.</p> + +<p>“The ice's broke, Peg, and you've got your control. That settles it.”</p> + +<p>Homans went up, to a wavering ripple of applause. He drew two balls and +then a strike from Murphy, and hit the next hard into short field. Frick +fumbled the ball, recovered it, and threw beautifully, but too late to +catch Homans. Raymond sacrificed, sending his captain to second. Murphy +could not locate the plate for Reddy Ray and let him get to first on +four balls. Weir came next. Homans signed he was going to run on the +first pitch. Weir, hitting with the runner, sent a double into right +field, and Homans and Ray scored. The bleachers cheered. Homans ran +down to third base to the coaching lines, and Ray went to first base. +Both began to coach the runner. Dean hit into short field, and was +thrown out, while Weir reached third on the play.</p> + +<p>“Two out, now! Hit!” yelled Homans to Blake.</p> + +<p>Blake hit safely over second, scoring Weir. Then Trace flied out to +left field.</p> + +<p>“Three runs!” called Homans. “Boys, that's a start! Three more runs +and this game's ours! Now, Peg, now!”</p> + +<p>Ken did not need that trenchant thrilling <span class="i">now</span>. The look in Worry's +eyes had been enough. He threw speed to Halloway, and on the third ball +retired him, Raymond to McCord. Stern came second to bat. In Ken's mind +this player was recorded with a weakness on low curves. And Ken found +it with two balls pitched. Stern popped up to Blake. Frick, a new player +to Ken, let a strike go by, and missed a drop and a fast ball.</p> + +<p>“They can't touch you, Ken,” called Raymond, as he tossed aside his glove.</p> + +<p>Faint cheers rose from scattered parts of the grand-stand, and here +and there shouts and yells. The audience appeared to stir, to become +animated, and the Herne players settled down to more sober action on +the field.</p> + +<p>McCord made a bid for a hit, but failed because of fast work by Stern. +Ken went up, eager to get to first in any way. He let Murphy pitch, +and at last, after fouling several good ones, he earned his base on +balls. Once there, he gave Homans the sign that he would run on the +first pitch, and he got a fair start. He heard the crack of the ball +and saw it glinting between short and third. Running hard, he beat the +throw-in to third. With two runners on bases, Raymond hit to deep short. +Ken went out trying to reach home. Again Reddy Ray came up and got a +base on balls, filling the bases. The crowd began to show excitement, +and seemed to be stifling cheers in suspense. Weir hurried to bat, his +shock of hair waving at every step. He swung hard on the first ball, +and, missing it, whirled down, bothering the catcher. Homans raced home +on a half-passed ball. Then Weir went out on a fly to centre.</p> + +<p>“Peg, keep at them!” called Reddy Ray. “We've got Murphy's measure.”</p> + +<p>It cost Ken an effort to deliberate in the box, to think before he +pitched. He had to fight his eagerness. But he wasted few balls, and +struck Mercer out. Van Sant hit to Weir, who threw wild to first, +allowing the runner to reach third. Murphy, batting next, hit one +which Ken put straight over the plate, and it went safe through second, +scoring Van Sant. The Herne rooters broke out in loud acclaim. Burr +came up, choking his bat up short. Again Ken gave him the high, wide +curve. He let it pass and the umpire called it a strike. Ken threw +another, a little outside this time. Evidently Burr was trying out +Ken's control.</p> + +<p>“He can't put them over!” yelled Gallagher, from the coaching line. +“Here's where he goes up! Wait him out, Burr. Good eye, old man! +Here's where we explode the freshman!”</p> + +<p>Ken glanced at Gallagher and laughed. Then he sped up another high +curve, which the umpire called a strike.</p> + +<p>“That's the place, Peg! Put another there!” floated from Reddy in +the outfield.</p> + +<p>Burr swung viciously, hitting a bounder toward second base. Raymond +darted over, went down with his bird-like quickness, came up with the +ball, and then he touched the bag and threw to first. It was a play +in which he excelled. The umpire called both runners out, retiring +the side. A short, sharp yell, like a bark, burst from the bleachers.</p> + +<p>Worry was smilingly thoughtful as his boys trotted in to bat.</p> + +<p>“Say, if you get a couple of runs this time we'll be <span class="i">It</span>. Look at the +students. Ready to fall out of the stands.... Peg, I'm glad Herne got +a run. Now we won't think of a shut-out. That'll steady us up. And, +boys, break loose now, for the game's ours.”</p> + +<p>Dean started off with a clean single. On the first pitch he broke for +second, and had to slide to make it, as Blake missed the strike. Then +Blake went out to first. Trace walked. McCord poked a little fly over +the infield, scoring Dean. Ken fouled out. The unerring Homans again +hit safely, sending Trace in. With two out and McCord on third and +Homans on second, Raymond laid down a beautiful bunt, tallying McCord. +And when the Herne catcher tried to head Homans from making third +Raymond kept on toward second. It was a daring dash, and he dove to +the bag with a long slide, but the decision was against him.</p> + +<p>The coach called Homans, Ward, and Ray to him and gathered them +close together.</p> + +<p>“Boys, listen!” he said, low and tense. “MacNeff and Prince, of Place, +are in the grand-stand just behind the plate. They're up there to get +a line on Peg. We'll fool 'em, and make 'em sick in the bargain. Peg, +you let out this innin' and show up the first three hitters. Then I'll +take you out and let Schoonover finish the game. See?”</p> + +<p>“Take me—out?” echoed Ken.</p> + +<p>“That's it, if you make these next three hitters look like monkeys. +Don't you see? We've got the Herne game cinched. We don't need to use +our star twirler. See? That'll be a bone for Place to chew on. How +about it, Cap? What do you think, Reddy?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Worry, if we dared to do it!” Homans exclaimed, under his breath. +“Herne would never get over it. And it would scare Place to death.... +But, Worry, Reddy, dare we risk it?”</p> + +<p>“It's playin' into our very hands,” replied Worry. His hazel eyes +were afire with inspiration.</p> + +<p>Reddy Ray's lean jaw bulged.</p> + +<p>“Homans, it's the trick, and we can turn it.”</p> + +<p>“What's the score—7 to 1?” muttered Homans. It was a tight place +for him, and he seemed tortured between ambition and doubt.</p> + +<p>“That fellow Murphy hasn't got one in my groove yet,” said Reddy. +“I'm due to lace one. We're good for more runs.”</p> + +<p>That decided Homans. He patted Ken on the shoulder and led him out to +the box, but he never spoke a word.</p> + +<p>Ken felt like a wild colt just let loose. He faced Hill with a smile, +and then, taking his long, overhand swing, he delivered the jump ball. +Hill made no move. The umpire called strike. The crowd roared. Ken +duplicated the feat. Then Hill missed the third strike. Gallagher +walked up doggedly, and Ken smiled at him, too. Then using three +wicked, darting drops, Ken struck Gallagher out.</p> + +<p>“That's twice!” called Reddy's penetrating voice from the outfield. +“Give him a paddle!”</p> + +<p>Halloway drew two balls and then three strikes.</p> + +<p>Ken ran for the bench amid an uproar most strange and startling to his +untried ear. The long, tardy, and stubborn students had broken their +silence.</p> + +<p>Dale leaped out of the grand-stand to lead the cheering. The giant +Stevens came piling out of the bleachers to perform a like office. +And then they were followed by Bryan, captain of the crew, and +Hilbrandt, captain of the track team. Four captains of Wayne teams +inspiriting and directing the cheering! Ken's bewildered ears drank +in one long, thundering “<span class="i">Ward! Ward! Ward!</span>” and then his hearing +seemed drowned. The whole mass of students and spectators rose as +one, and the deafening stamp of feet only equalled the roar of voices. +But now the volume of sound was regular and rhythmic. It was like the +approach of a terrible army. For minutes, while the umpire held play +suspended, the Wayne supporters in hoarse and stamping tumult came +into their own again. It was a wild burst of applause, and as it had +been long delayed, so now it was prolonged fiercely to the limit of +endurance.</p> + +<p>When those waves of sound had rolled away Ken Ward felt a difference +in Grant Field, in the varsity, in himself. A different color shone +from the sky.</p> + +<p>Ken saw Reddy Ray go to bat and drive the ball against the right-field +fence. Then as the sprinter got into his wonderful stride once more the +whole audience rose in yelling, crashing clamor. And when on Weir's fly +to the outfield Reddy raced in to the plate, making the throw-in look +feeble, again the din was terrific.</p> + +<p>As one in a glorious dream, Ken Ward crouched upon the bench and watched +the remainder of that game. He grasped it all as if baseball was all that +made life worth living, and as if every moment was his last. He never +thought of himself. He was only a part of the team, and that team, +every moment, grew sharper, faster, fiercer. He revelled in the game. +Schoonover was hit hard, but fast play by Raymond and Weir kept Herne's +score down. The little second-baseman was here, there, everywhere, like +a glint of light. Herne made runs, but Wayne also kept adding runs. +Blake caught a foul fly off the bleachers; Trace made a beautiful catch; +McCord was like a tower at first base, and little Dean went through the +last stages of development that made him a star.</p> + +<p>Once in the eighth inning Ken became aware that Worry was punching +him in the back and muttering:</p> + +<p>“Look out, Peg! Listen! Murphy'll get one in Reddy's groove this +time.... Oh-h!”</p> + +<p>The crack of the ball, as well as Worry's yell, told Ken what had +happened. Besides, he could see, and as the ball lined away for the +fence, and the sprinter leaped into action, Ken jumped up and screamed:</p> + +<p>“Oh, Reddy, it's over—over! No! Run! Run! Oh-h-h!”</p> + +<p>In the shrill, piercing strife of sound Ken's scream seemed only a +breath at his ears. He held to it, almost splitting his throat, while +the sprinter twinkled round third base and came home like a thunderbolt.</p> + +<p>Another inning passed, a confusion of hits, throws, runs, and plays +to Ken, and then Worry was pounding him again.</p> + +<p>“Dig for the trainin'-house!” yelled Worry, mouth on his ear. +“The students are crazy! They'll eat us alive! They're tearin' +the bleachers down! Run for it, Peg!”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XV">A Matter of Principle</p> + + +<p>Ken found himself running across Grant Field, pursued by a happy, +roaring mob of students. They might have been Indians, judging from +the way Ken and his fellow-players fled before them. The trained +athletes distanced their well-meaning but violent pursuers and gained +the gate, but it was a close shave. The boys bounded up the street +into the training-house and locked the door till the puffing Arthurs +arrived. They let him in and locked the door again.</p> + +<p>In another moment the street resounded with the rush of many feet +and the yells of frantic students. Murray, the trainer, forced a way +through the crowd and up the stoop. He closed and barred the outside +door, and then pounded upon the inside door for admittance. Worry +let him in.</p> + +<p>“They'd make a bowl-fight or a football rush look tame,” panted Murray. +“Hey! Scotty—lock up tight down in the basement. For Heaven's sake +don't let that push get in on us! Lock the windows in the front.”</p> + +<p>“Who's that poundin' on the door?” yelled Worry. He had to yell, +for the swelling racket outside made ordinary conversation impossible.</p> + +<p>“Don't open it!” shouted Murray. “What do we care for team-captains, +college professors, athletic directors, or students? They're all out +there, and they're crazy, I tell you. I never saw the like. It'd be +more than I want to get in that jam. And it'd never do for the varsity. +Somebody would get crippled sure. I'm training this baseball team.”</p> + +<p>Murray, in his zealous care of his athletes, was somewhat overshooting +the mark, for not one of the boys had the slightest desire to be trusted +to the mob outside. In fact, Ken looked dazed, and Raymond scared to the +point of trembling; Trace was pale; and all the others, except Homans +and Reddy Ray, showed perturbation. Nor were the captain and sprinter +deaf to the purport of that hour; only in their faces shone a kindling +glow and flush.</p> + +<p>By-and-by the boys slipped to their rooms, removed their uniforms, +dressed and crept down-stairs like burglars and went in to dinner. +Outside the uproar, instead of abating, gathered strength as time +went by. At the dinner-table the boys had to yell in each other's +ears. They had to force what they ate. No one was hungry. When Worry +rose from the table they all flocked after him.</p> + +<p>It was growing dark outside, and a red glow, brightening upon +the windows, showed the students had lighted bonfires.</p> + +<p>“They're goin' to make a night of it,” yelled Worry.</p> + +<p>“How'll my boys be able to sleep?” shouted Murray. Both coach +and trainer were as excited as any of the boys.</p> + +<p>“The street's packed solid. Listen!”</p> + +<p>The tramp, tramp, tramp of thousands of feet keeping time was like the +heavy tread of a marching multitude. Then the tramp died away in a +piercing cheer, “<span class="i">Wayne!</span>” nine times, clear and sustained—a long, +beautiful college cheer. In the breathing spell that followed, the +steady tramp of feet went on. One by one, at intervals, the university +yells were given, the broken rattling rally, the floating melodious +crew cheer, and the hoarse, smashing boom of football. Then again +the inspiriting “<span class="i">Wayne!</span>” nine times. After that came shrill calls +for the varsity, for Homans, Reddy Ray, Raymond, and Peggie Ward.</p> + +<p>“Come up-stairs to the windows, boys!” shouted Worry. “We've got +to show ourselves.”</p> + +<p>Worry threw up the windows in Weir's room, and the boys gingerly poked +their heads out. A roar greeted their appearance. The heads all popped +in as if they had been struck.</p> + +<p>“Homans, you'll have to make a speech,” cried the coach.</p> + +<p>“I will not!”</p> + +<p>“You've got to say somethin'. We can't have this crazy gang out here +all night.”</p> + +<p>Then Worry and Murray coaxed and led Homans to the window. The captain +leaned out and said something that was unintelligible in the hubbub +without. The crowd cheered him and called for Reddy, Ward, and Raymond. +Worry grasped the second-baseman and shoved him half over the sill. +Raymond would have fallen out but for the coach's strong hold.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Peg!” yelled Worry.</p> + +<p>“Not on your life!” cried Ken, in affright. He ran away from the +coach, and dived under the bed. But Reddy Ray dragged him out and +to the window, and held him up in the bright bonfire glare. Then he +lifted a hand to silence the roaring crowd.</p> + +<p>“Fellows, here he is—Worry's demon, Wayne's pitcher!” called Reddy, +in ringing, far-reaching voice. “Listen! Peggie didn't lose his nerve +when he faced Herne to-day, but he's lost it now. He's lost his voice, +too. But he says for you to go away and save your cheers for this day +two weeks, when we meet Place. Then, he says, you'll have something +to cheer for!”</p> + +<p>The crafty sprinter knew how to appeal to the students. All of voice +and strength and enthusiasm left in them went up in a mighty bawl +that rattled the windows and shook the house. They finished with +nine “<span class="i">Waynes!</span>” and a long, rousing “<span class="i">Peggie Ward!</span>” and then they +went away.</p> + +<p>“By George! look here, Peg,” said Reddy, earnestly, “they gave you +Wayne's Nine! <span class="i">Wayne's Nine!</span> Do you hear? I never knew a freshman +varsity man to get that cheer.”</p> + +<p>“You've got to beat Place now, after tellin' 'em you'd do it,” +added Worry.</p> + +<p>“But, Worry, I didn't say a word—it was Reddy,” replied Ken, +in distress.</p> + +<p>“Same thing,” rejoined the coach. “Now, boys, let's quiet down and +talk over the game. I won't waste any time jollyin' you. I couldn't +praise you enough if I spent the rest of the season tryin' to. One +and all, by yourselves and in a bunch, you played Herne off their +feet. I'll bet MacNeff and Prince are dizzy figurin' what'll happen +Saturday week. As to the score, why, scores don't mean much to us—”</p> + +<p>“What was the score, anyway?” asked Ken.</p> + +<p>The boys greeted this with shouts of doubtful laughter, and Worry +glanced with disapproval at his star.</p> + +<p>“Peg, you keep me guessin' a lot. But not to know how much we beat +Herne would be more 'n I could stand. On the level, now, don't you +know the score?”</p> + +<p>“Fair and square, I don't, Worry. You never would let me think of +how many runs we had or needed. I can count seven—yes, and one more, +that was Reddy's home-run.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, you must have been up in the air a little; 14 to 4, that's it. +And we didn't take our bat in the last of the ninth.”</p> + +<p>Then followed Worry's critical account of the game, and a discussion +in which the boys went over certain plays. During the evening many +visitors called, but did not gain admission. The next morning, however, +Worry himself brought in the newspapers, which heretofore he had +forbidden the players to read, and he told them they were now free +to have any callers or to go where they liked. There was a merry +scramble for the papers, and presently the reading-room was as quiet +as a church.</p> + +<p>The account that held Ken Ward in rapt perusal was the <span class="i">Morning +Times-Star's</span>. At first the print blurred in Ken's sight. Then he +read it over again. He liked the glowing praise given the team, +and was shamefully conscious of the delight in his name in large +letters. A third time he read it, guiltily this time, for he did +not dream that his comrades were engrossed in like indulgence.</p> + +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote-cen">WAYNE OUTCLASSES HERNE</p> +<p class="quote-cen">ARTHURS DEVELOPS ANOTHER GREAT TEAM.</p> +<p class="quote-cen">PEGGIE WARD AND REDDY RAY STARS.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote"> +Wayne defeated Herne yesterday 14 to 4, and thereby leaped into the limelight. It was a surprise to +every one, Herne most of all. Owing to the stringent eligibility rules now in force at Wayne, and the +barring of the old varsity, nothing was expected of this season's team. Arthurs, the famous coach, has +built a wonderful nine out of green material, and again establishes the advisability of professional +coaches for the big universities.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote"> +With one or two exceptions Wayne's varsity is made up of players developed this year. Homans, the +captain, was well known about town as an amateur player of ability. But Arthurs has made him into +a great field captain and a base-getter of remarkable skill. An unofficial computing gives him the batting +average of .536. No captain or any other player of any big college team in the East ever approached +such percentage as that. It is so high that it must be a mistake.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote"> +Reddy Ray, the intercollegiate champion in the sprints, is the other seasoned player of the varsity, and it is +safe to say that he is the star of all the college teams. A wonderful fielder, a sure and heavy hitter, +and like a flash on the bases, he alone makes Homans' team formidable.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote"> +Then there is Peg Ward, Worry Arthurs' demon pitcher, of freshman bowl-fight fame. This lad has been arriving +since spring, and now he has arrived. He is powerful, and has a great arm. He seems to pitch without effort, +has twice the speed of Dale, and is as cool in the box as a veteran. But it is his marvellous control of the +ball that puts him in a class by himself. In the fourth inning of yesterday's game he extended himself, probably +on orders from Coach Arthurs, and struck out Herne's three best hitters on eleven pitched balls. Then he +was taken out and Schoonover put in. This white-headed lad is no slouch of a pitcher, by-the-way. But it must +have been a bitter pill for Herne to swallow. The proud Herne varsity have been used to knocking pitchers out +of the box, instead of seeing them removed because they were too good. Also, MacNeff and Prince, of Place, +who saw the game, must have had food for reflection. They did not get much of a line on young Ward, and +what they saw will not give them pleasant dreams. We pick Ward to beat the heavy-hitting Place team.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote"> +Other youngsters of Arthurs' nine show up well, particularly Raymond and Weir, who have springs in +their feet and arms like whips. Altogether Arthurs' varsity is a strangely assorted, a wonderfully chosen +group of players. We might liken them to the mechanism of a fine watch, with Ward as the mainspring, and +the others with big or little parts to perform, but each dependent upon the other. Wayne's greatest +baseball team!</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> + +<p>Ken read it all thirstily, wonderingly, and recorded it deep in the +deepest well of his memory. It seemed a hundred times as sweet for all +the misery and longing and fear and toil which it had cost to gain.</p> + +<p>And each succeeding day grew fuller and richer with its meed of reward. +All the boys of the varsity were sought by the students, Ken most of all. +Everywhere he went he was greeted with a regard that made him still more +bashful and ashamed. If he stepped into Carlton Club, it was to be +surrounded by a frankly admiring circle of students. He could not get +a moment alone in the library. Professors had a smile for him and often +stopped to chat. The proudest moment of his college year was when +President Halstead met him in the promenade, and before hundreds of +students turned to walk a little way with him. There seemed not to be +a single student of the university or any one connected with it, who did +not recognize him. Bryan took him to watch the crew practise; Stevens +played billiards with him at the club; Dale openly sought his society. +Then the fraternities began to vie with one another for Ken. In all his +life he had not imagined a fellow could be treated so well. It was an +open secret that Ken Ward was extremely desired in the best fraternities. +He could not have counted his friends. Through it all, by thinking of +Worry and the big games coming, he managed to stay on his feet.</p> + +<p>One morning, when he was at the height of this enjoyable popularity, +he read a baseball note that set him to thinking hard. The newspaper, +commenting on the splendid results following Wayne's new athletic +rules, interpreted one rule in a way astounding to Ken. It was +something to the effect that all players who had been <span class="i">on</span> a team +which paid any player or any expenses of any player were therefore +ineligible. Interpretation of the rules had never been of any serious +moment to Ken. He had never played on any but boy teams. But suddenly +he remembered that during a visit to the mountains with his mother he +had gone to a place called Eagle's Nest, a summer hotel colony. It +boasted of a good ball team and had a rival in the Glenwoods, a team +from an adjoining resort. Ken had been in the habit of chasing flies +for the players in practice. One day Eagle's Nest journeyed over to +Glenwood to play, and being short one player they took Ken to fill in. +He had scarcely started in the game when the regular player appeared, +thus relieving him. The incident had completely slipped Ken's mind +until recalled by the newspaper note.</p> + +<p>Whereupon Ken began to ponder. He scouted the idea of that innocent +little thing endangering his eligibility at Wayne. But the rule, +thus made clear, stood out in startlingly black-and-white relief. +Eagle's Nest supported a team by subscription among the hotel guests. +Ken had ridden ten miles in a 'bus with the team, and had worn one +of the uniforms for some few minutes. Therefore, upon a technicality, +perhaps, he had been <span class="i">on</span> a summer nine, and had no right to play for +Wayne.</p> + +<p>Ken went to Homans and told him the circumstance. The captain looked +exceedingly grave, then getting more particulars he relaxed.</p> + +<p>“You're safe, Peg. You're perfectly innocent. But don't mention it to +any one else, especially Worry. He'd have a fit. What a scare you'd +throw into the varsity camp! Forget the few minutes you wore that +Eagle's Nest suit.”</p> + +<p>For the time being this reassured Ken, but after a while his anxiety +returned. Homans had said not to mention it, and that bothered Ken. +He lay awake half of one night thinking about the thing. It angered +him and pricked his conscience and roused him. He wanted to feel +absolutely sure of his position, for his own sake first of all. +So next morning he cornered Worry and blurted out the secret.</p> + +<p>“Peg, what're you givin' me!” he ejaculated.</p> + +<p>Ken repeated his story, somewhat more clearly and at greater length. +Worry turned as white as a ghost.</p> + +<p>“Good gracious, Peg, you haven't told anybody?”</p> + +<p>“No one but Homans.”</p> + +<p>Worry gave a long sigh of relief, and his face regained some of its +usual florid color.</p> + +<p>“Well, that's all right then.... Say, didn't I tell you once that I +had a weak heart? Peg, of course you're an amateur, or there never was +one. But 'em fat-head directors! Why, I wouldn't have 'em find that +out for a million dollars. They're idiots enough to make a shinin' +example of you right before the Place games. Keep it under your +hat, see!”</p> + +<p>This last was in the nature of a command, and Ken had always +religiously obeyed Worry. He went to his room feeling that the +matter had been decided for him. Relief, however, did not long +abide with him. He began to be torn between loyalty to Worry and +duty to himself. He felt guiltless, but he was not sure of it, +and until he was sure he could not be free in mind. Suddenly he +thought of being actually barred from the varsity, and was miserable. +That he could not bear. Strong temptation now assailed Ken and found +him weak. A hundred times he reconciled himself to Worry's command, +to Homan's point of view, yet every time something rose within him and +rebelled. But despite the rebellion Ken almost gave in. He fought off +thought of his new sweet popularity, of the glory of being Wayne's +athletic star. He fought to look the thing fairly in the face. To him +it loomed up a hundredfold larger than an incident of his baseball +career. And so he got strength to do the thing that would ease the +voice of conscience. He went straight to the coach.</p> + +<p>“Worry, I've got to go to the directors and tell them. I—I'm sorry, +but I've got to do it.”</p> + +<p>He expected a storm of rage from Worry, but never had the coach been +so suave, so kindly, so magnetic. He called Homans and Raymond and +Weir and others who were in the house at the moment and stated Ken's +case. His speech flowed smooth and rapid. The matter under his deft +argument lost serious proportions. But it seemed to Ken that Worry +did not tell the boys the whole truth, or they would not have laughed +at the thing and made him out over-sensitive. And Ken was now growing +too discouraged and bewildered to tell them. Moreover, he was getting +stubborn. The thing was far from a joke. The cunning of the coach +proved that. Worry wound the boys round his little finger.</p> + +<p>At this juncture Reddy Ray entered the training-house.</p> + +<p>More than once Ken had gone to the great sprinter with confidences +and troubles, and now he began impulsively, hurriedly, incoherently, +to tell the story.</p> + +<p>“And Reddy,” concluded Ken, “I've got to tell the directors. It's +something—hard for me to explain. I couldn't pitch another game +with this hanging over me. I must—tell them—and take my medicine.”</p> + +<p>“Sure. It's a matter of principle,” replied Reddy, in his soft, slow +voice. His keen eyes left Ken's pale face and met the coach's. “Worry, +I'll take Peg up to see the athletic faculty. I know Andrews, the +president, and he's the one to hear Peg's story.”</p> + +<p>Worry groaned and sank into a chair crushed and beaten. Then he swore, +something unusual in him. Then he began to rave at the fat-headed +directors. Then he yelled that he would never coach another ball team +so long as he lived.</p> + +<p>Ken followed Reddy out of the training-house and along the street. +The fact that the sprinter did not say a word showed Ken he was +understood, and he felt immeasurably grateful. They crossed the +campus and entered College Hall, to climb the winding stairway. +To Ken that was a long, hateful climb. Andrews, and another of the +directors whom Ken knew by sight, were in the office. They greeted +the visitors with cordial warmth.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen,” began Reddy, “Ward thinks he has violated one of the +eligibility rules.”</p> + +<p>There was no beating about the bush with Reddy Ray, no shading of fact, +no distortion of the truth. Coolly he stated the case. But, strangely +to Ken, the very truth, told by Reddy in this way, somehow lost its +terrors. Ken's shoulders seemed unburdened of a terrible weight.</p> + +<p>Andrews and his colleague laughed heartily.</p> + +<p>“You see—I—I forgot all about it,” said Ken.</p> + +<p>“Yes, and since he remembered he's been worrying himself sick,” +resumed Reddy. “Couldn't rest till he'd come over here.”</p> + +<p>“Ward, it's much to your credit that you should confide something +there was never any chance of becoming known,” said the president +of the athletic faculty. “We appreciate it. You may relieve your +mind of misgivings as to your eligibility. Even if we tried I doubt +if we could twist a rule to affect your standing. And you may rest +assured we wouldn't try in the case of so fine a young fellow and +so splendid a pitcher for Wayne.”</p> + +<p>Then Andrews courteously shook hands with Ken and Reddy and bowed +them out. Ken danced half-way down the stairway and slid the rest +on the bannister.</p> + +<p>“Reddy, wasn't he just fine?” cried Ken, all palpitating with joy.</p> + +<p>“Well, Peg, Andrews is a nice old thing if you approach him right,” +replied Reddy, dryly. “You wouldn't believe me, would you, if I said +I had my heart in my throat when we went in?”</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn't,” replied Ken, bluntly.</p> + +<p>“I thought not,” said Reddy. Then the gravity that had suddenly +perplexed Ken cleared from the sprinter's face. “Peg, let's have +some fun with Worry and the boys.”</p> + +<p>“I'm in for anything now.”</p> + +<p>“We'll go back to the training-house with long faces. When we get in +you run up-stairs as if you couldn't face any one, but be sure to sneak +back to the head of the stairs to see and hear the fun. I'll fix Worry +all right. Now, don't flunk. It's a chance.”</p> + +<p>Ken could not manage to keep a straight face as they went in, so he hid +it and rushed up-stairs. He bumped into Raymond, knocking him flat.</p> + +<p>“Running to a fire again?” growled Raymond. “Got a fire-medal, haven't +you? Always falling over people.”</p> + +<p>Ken tried to simulate ungovernable rage and impotent distress at once. +He waved one fist and tore his hair with the other hand.</p> + +<p>“Get out of my way!” roared Ken. “What'll you say when I tell you I'm +barred from the varsity!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! Ken! No, no—don't say it,” faltered Raymond, all sympathy in +an instant.</p> + +<p>Ken ran into his room, closed the door and then peeped out. He saw +Raymond slowly sag down-stairs as if his heart was broken. Then Ken +slipped out and crawled down the hall till he could see into the +reading-room. All the boys were there, with anxious faces, crowded +round the coach. Worry was livid. Reddy Ray seemed the only calm +person in the room and he had tragedy written all over him.</p> + +<p>“Out with it!” shouted Worry. “Don't stand there like a mournful +preacher. What did 'em fat-heads say?”</p> + +<p>Reddy threw up his hands with a significant gesture.</p> + +<p>“I knew it!” howled Worry, jumping up and down. “I knew it! Why did +you take the kid over there? Why didn't you let me and Homans handle +this thing? You red-headed, iron-jawed, cold-blooded wind-chaser! +You've done it now, haven't you? I—Oh—”</p> + +<p>Worry began to flounder helplessly.</p> + +<p>“They said a few more things,” went on Reddy. “Peg is barred, Raymond +is barred, I am barred. I told them about my baseball career out West. +The directors said some pretty plain things about you, Worry, I'm sorry +to tell. You're a rotten coach. In fact, you ought to be a coach at an +undertaker's. Homans gets the credit for the work of the team. They +claim you are too hard on the boys, too exacting, too brutal, in fact. +Andrews recited a record of your taking sandwiches from us and aiding +and abetting Murray in our slow starvation. The directors will favor +your dismissal and urge the appointment of Professor Rhodes, who as +coach will at least feed us properly.”</p> + +<p>Reddy stopped to catch his breath and gain time for more invention. Of +all the unhappy mortals on earth Worry Arthurs looked the unhappiest. +He believed every word as if it had been gospel. And that about Professor +Rhodes was the last straw.</p> + +<p>Ken could stand the deception no longer. He marvelled at Reddy's +consummate lying and how he could ever stand that look on Worry's +face. Bounding down-stairs four steps at a jump, Ken burst like a +bomb upon the sad-faced group.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Worry, it's all a joke!”</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XVI">The First Place Game</p> + + +<p>Rain prevented the second Herne game, which was to have been played +on the Herne grounds. It rained steadily all day Friday and Saturday, +to the disappointment of Wayne's varsity. The coach, however, admitted +that he was satisfied to see the second contest with Herne go by the +board.</p> + +<p>“I don't like big games away from home,” said Worry. “It's hard on new +teams. Besides, we beat Herne to death over here. Mebbe we couldn't do +it over there, though I ain't doubtin'. But it's Place we're after, and +if we'd had that game at Herne we couldn't have kept Place from gettin' +a line on us. So I'm glad it rained.”</p> + +<p>The two Place games fell during a busy week at Wayne. Wednesday was the +beginning of the commencement exercises and only a comparatively few +students could make the trip to Place. But the night before the team +left, the students, four thousand strong, went to the training-house +and filled a half-hour with college songs and cheers.</p> + +<p>Next morning Dale and Stevens, heading a small band of Wayne athletes +and graduates, met the team at the railroad station and boarded the +train with them. Worry and Homans welcomed them, and soon every Wayne +player had two or more for company. Either by accident or design, Ken +could not tell which, Dale and Stevens singled him out for their especial +charge. The football captain filled one seat with his huge bulk and faced +Ken, and Dale sat with a hand on Ken's shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Peg, we're backing you for all we're worth,” said Stevens. “But this is +your first big game away from home. It's really the toughest game of the +season. Place is a hard nut to crack any time. And her players on their +own backyard are scrappers who can take a lot of beating and still win +out. Then there's another thing that's no small factor in their strength: +They are idolized by the students, and rooting at Place is a science. They +have a yell that beats anything you ever heard. It'll paralyze a fellow +at a critical stage. But that yell is peculiar in that it rises out of +circumstances leading to almost certain victory. That is, Place has to +make a strong bid for a close, hard game to work up that yell. So if it +comes to-day you be ready for it. Have your ears stuffed with cotton, +and don't let that yell blow you up in the air.”</p> + +<p>Dale was even more earnest than Stevens.</p> + +<p>“Peg, Place beat me over here last year, beat me 6-3. They hit me harder +than I ever was hit before, I guess. You went down to Washington, Worry +said, to look them over. Tell me what you think—how you sized them up.”</p> + +<p>Dale listened attentively while Ken recited his impressions.</p> + +<p>“You've got Prince and MacNeff figured exactly right,” replied Dale. +“Prince is the football captain, by-the-way. Be careful how you run +into second base. If you ever slide into him head first—good-bye! +He's a great player, and he can hit any kind of a ball. MacNeff now, +just as you said, is weak on a high ball close in, and he kills a low +ball. Kills is the word! He hits them a mile. But, Peg, I think you're +a little off on Keene, Starke, and Martin, the other Place cracks. They're +veterans, hard to pitch to; they make you cut the plate; they are as apt +to bunt as hit, and they are fast. They keep a fellow guessing. I think +Starke pulls a little on a curve, but the others have no weakness I ever +discovered. But, Peg, I expect you to do more with them than I did. My +control was never any too good, and you can throw almost as straight as +a fellow could shoot a rifle. Then your high fast ball, that one you +get with the long swing, it would beat any team. Only I'm wondering, +I'm asking—can you use it right along, in the face of such coaching +and yelling and hitting as you'll run against to-day? I'm asking +deliberately, because I want to give you confidence.”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, Dale, I think I can. I'm pretty sure of it. That ball comes +easily, only a little longer swing and more snap, and honestly, Dale, +I hardly ever think about the plate. I know where it is, and I could +shut my eyes and throw strikes.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, you're a wonder,” replied Dale, warmly. “If you can do that—and +hang me if I doubt it—you will make Place look like a lot of dubs. We're +sure to make a few runs. Homans and Ray will hit Salisbury hard. There's +no fence on Place Field, and every ball Reddy hits past a fielder will +be a home-run. You can gamble on that. So set a fast clip when you start +in, and hang.”</p> + +<p>Some time later, when Ken had changed seats and was talking to Raymond, +he heard Worry say to somebody:</p> + +<p>“Well, if Peg don't explode to-day he never will. I almost wish he would. +He'd be better for it, afterward.”</p> + +<p>This surprised Ken, annoyed him, and straightway he became thoughtful. +Why this persistent harping on the chance of his getting excited from +one cause or another, losing his control and thereby the game? Ken had +not felt in the least nervous about the game. He would get so, presently, +if his advisers did not stop hinting. Then Worry's wish that he might +“explode” was puzzling. A little shade of gloom crept over the bright +horizon of Ken's hopes. Almost unconsciously vague doubts of himself +fastened upon him. For the first time he found himself looking forward +to a baseball game with less eagerness than uncertainty. Stubbornly he +fought off the mood.</p> + +<p>Place was situated in an old college town famed for its ancient trees +and quaint churches and inns. The Wayne varsity, arriving late, put on +their uniforms at the St. George, a tavern that seemed never to have +been in any way acquainted with a college baseball team. It was very +quiet and apparently deserted. For that matter the town itself appeared +deserted. The boys dressed hurriedly, in silence, with frowning brows +and compressed lips. Worry Arthurs remained down-stairs while they +dressed. Homans looked the team over and then said:</p> + +<p>“Boys, come on! To-day's our hardest game.”</p> + +<p>It was only a short walk along the shady street to the outskirts of +the town and the athletic field. The huge stands blocked the view +from the back and side. Homans led the team under the bleachers, +through a narrow walled-in aisle, to the side entrance, and there +gave the word for the varsity to run out upon the field. A hearty +roar of applause greeted their appearance.</p> + +<p>Ken saw a beautiful green field, level as a floor, with a great +half-circle of stands and bleachers at one end. One glance was +sufficient to make Ken's breathing an effort. He saw a glittering +mass, a broad, moving band of color. Everywhere waved Place flags, +bright gold and blue. White faces gleamed like daisies on a golden +slope. In the bleachers close to the first base massed a shirt-sleeved +crowd of students, row on row of them, thousands in number. Ken +experienced a little chill as he attached the famous Place yell to +that significant placing of rooters. A soft breeze blew across the +field, and it carried low laughter and voices of girls, a merry hum, +and subdued murmur, and an occasional clear shout. The whole field +seemed keenly alive.</p> + +<p>From the bench Ken turned curious, eager eyes upon the practising +Place men. Never had he regarded players with as sharp an interest, +curiosity being mingled with admiration, and confidence with doubt. +MacNeff, the captain, at first base, veteran of three years, was a +tall, powerful fellow, bold and decisive in action. Prince, Place's +star on both gridiron and diamond, played at second base. He was very +short, broad and heavy, and looked as if he would have made three of +little Raymond. Martin, at short-stop, was of slim, muscular build. +Keene and Starke, in centre and left, were big men. Salisbury looked +all of six feet, and every inch a pitcher. He also played end on the +football varsity. Ken had to indulge in a laugh at the contrast in +height and weight of Wayne when compared to Place. The laugh was good +for him, because it seemed to loosen something hard and tight within +his breast. Besides, Worry saw him laugh and looked pleased, and that +pleased Ken.</p> + +<p>“Husky lot of stiffs, eh, Peg?” said Worry, reading Ken's thought. +“But, say! this ain't no football game. We'll make these heavyweights +look like ice-wagons. I never was much on beefy ball-players. Aha! +there goes the gong. Place's takin' the field. That suits me.... Peg, +listen! The game's on. I've only one word to say to you. <span class="i">Try to keep +solid on your feet!</span>”</p> + +<p>A short cheer, electrifying in its force, pealed out like a blast.</p> + +<p>Then Homans stepped to the plate amid generous hand-clapping. The Place +adherents had their favorites, but they always showed a sportsmanlike +appreciation of opponents. Salisbury wound up, took an enormous stride, +and pitched the ball. He had speed. Homans seldom hit on the first +pitch, and this was a strike. But he rapped the next like a bullet at +Griffith, the third-baseman. Griffith blocked the ball, and, quickly +reaching it, he used a snap underhand throw to first, catching Homans +by a narrow margin. It was a fine play and the crowd let out another +blast.</p> + +<p>Raymond, coming up, began his old trick of trying to work the +pitcher for a base. He was small and he crouched down until a wag +in the bleachers yelled that this was no kindergarten game. Raymond +was exceedingly hard to pitch to. He was always edging over the plate, +trying to get hit. If anybody touched him in practice he would roar +like a mad bull, but in a game he would cheerfully have stopped +cannon-balls. He got in front of Salisbury's third pitch, and, +dropping his bat, started for first base. The umpire called him +back. Thereupon Raymond fouled balls and went through contortions +at the plate till he was out on strikes.</p> + +<p>When Reddy Ray took his position at bat audible remarks passed like +a wave through the audience. Then a long, hearty cheer greeted the +great sprinter. When roar once again subsided into waiting suspense +a strong-lunged Wayne rooter yelled, “<span class="i">Watch him run!</span>”</p> + +<p>The outfielders edged out deeper and deeper. MacNeff called low to +Salisbury: “Don't let this fellow walk! Keep them high and make him +hit!” It was evident that Place had gotten a line on one Wayne player.</p> + +<p>Salisbury delivered the ball and Reddy whirled with his level swing. +There was a sharp crack.</p> + +<p>Up started the crowd with sudden explosive: “Oh!”</p> + +<p>Straight as a bee-line the ball sped to Keene in deep centre, and +Reddy was out.</p> + +<p>Wayne players went running out and Place players came trotting in. Ken, +however, at Worry's order, walked slowly and leisurely to the pitcher's +box. He received an ovation from the audience that completely surprised +him and which stirred him to warm gratefulness. Then, receiving the ball, +he drew one quick breath, and faced the stern issue of the day.</p> + +<p>As always, he had his pitching plan clearly defined in mind, and no +little part of it was cool deliberation, study of the batter to the +point of irritating him, and then boldness of action. He had learned +that he was not afraid to put the ball over the plate, and the knowledge +had made him bold, and boldness increased his effectiveness.</p> + +<p>For Keene, first batter up, Ken pitched his fast ball with all his +power. Like a glancing streak it shot over. A low whistling ran through +the bleachers. For the second pitch Ken took the same long motion, +ending in the sudden swing, but this time he threw a slow, wide, +tantalizing curve that floated and waved and circled around across +the plate. It also was a strike. Keene had not offered to hit either. +In those two balls, perfectly controlled, Ken deliberately showed the +Place team the wide extremes of his pitching game.</p> + +<p>“Keene, he don't waste any. Hit!” ordered MacNeff from the bench. +The next ball, a high curve, Keene hit on the fly to Homans.</p> + +<p>The flaxen-haired Prince trotted up with little, short steps. Ken did +not need the wild outburst from the crowd to appreciate this sturdy +hero of many gridiron and diamond battles. He was so enormously wide, +almost as wide as he was long, that he would have been funny to Ken but +for the reputation that went with the great shoulders and stumpy legs.</p> + +<p>“Ward, give me a good one,” said Prince, in a low, pleasant voice. +He handled his heavy bat as if it had been light as a yardstick.</p> + +<p>It was with more boldness than intention of gratifying Prince that +Ken complied, using the same kind of ball he had tried first on Keene. +Prince missed it. The next, a low curve, he cracked hard to the left +of Raymond. The second-baseman darted over, fielded the ball cleanly, +and threw Prince out.</p> + +<p>Then the long, rangy MacNeff, home-run hitter for Place, faced Ken. +His position at bat bothered Ken, for he stood almost on the plate. +Remembering MacNeff's weakness, Ken lost no time putting a swift +in-shoot under his chin. The Place captain lunged round at it, +grunting with his swing. If he had hit the ball it would have been +with the handle of his bat. So Ken, knowing his control, and sure +that he could pitch high shoots all day over the incomer of the plate, +had no more fear of the Place slugger. And it took only three more +pitches to strike him out.</p> + +<p>From that on the game see-sawed inning by inning, Ken outpitching +Salisbury, but neither team scored. At intervals cheers marked the +good plays of both teams, and time and again the work of the pitchers +earned applause. The crowd seemed to be holding back, and while they +waited for the unexpected the short, sharp innings slipped by.</p> + +<p>Trace for Wayne led off in the seventh with a safe fly over short. Ken, +attempting to sacrifice, rolled a little bunt down the third-base line +and beat the throw. With no one out and the head of the batting list up, +the Wayne players awoke to possibilities. The same fiery intensity that +had characterized their play all season now manifested itself. They were +all on their feet, and Weir and McCord on the coaching lines were yelling +hoarsely at Salisbury, tearing up the grass with their spikes, dashing +to and fro, shouting advice to the runners.</p> + +<p>“Here's where we score! Oh! you pitcher! We're due to trim you now! +Steady, boys, play it safe, play it safe!—don't let them double you!”</p> + +<p>Up by the bench Homans was selecting a bat.</p> + +<p>“Worry, I'd better dump one,” he whispered.</p> + +<p>“That's the trick,” replied the coach. “Advance them at any cost. +There's Reddy to follow.”</p> + +<p>The reliable Salisbury rolled the ball in his hands, feinted to throw +to the bases, and showed his steadiness under fire. He put one square +over for Homans and followed it upon the run. Homans made a perfect +bunt, but instead of going along either base line, it went straight +into the pitcher's hands. Salisbury whirled and threw to Prince, who +covered the bag, and forced Trace. One out and still two runners on +bases. The crowd uttered a yell and then quickly quieted down. Raymond +bent low over the plate and watched Salisbury's slightest move. He +bunted the first ball, and it went foul over the third-base line. +He twisted the second toward first base, and it, too, rolled foul. +And still he bent low as if to bunt again. The infield slowly edged +in closer. But Raymond straightened up on Salisbury's next pitch and +lined the ball out. Prince leaped into the air and caught the ball in +his gloved hand. Homans dove back into first base; likewise Ken into +second, just making it in the nick of time, for Martin was on the run +to complete a possible double play. A shout at once hoarse and shrill +went up, and heavy clattering thunder rolled along the floor of the +bleachers. Two out and still two men on bases.</p> + +<p>If there was a calm person on Place Field at that moment it was Reddy +Ray, but his eyes glinted like sparks as he glanced at the coach.</p> + +<p>“Worry, I'll lace one this time,” he said, and strode for the plate.</p> + +<p>Weir and McCord were shrieking: “Oh, look who's up! Oh-h! Oh-h! +Play it safe, boys!”</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Watch him run!</span>”</p> + +<p>That came from the same deep-chested individual who had before hinted +of the sprinter's fleetness, and this time the Wayne players recognized +the voice of Murray. How hopeful and thrilling the suggestion was, +coming from him!</p> + +<p>The Place infield trotted to deep short-field; the outfielders moved +out and swung around far to the right. Salisbury settled down in the +box and appeared to put on extra effort as he delivered the ball. It +was wide. The next also went off the outside of the plate. It looked +as if Salisbury meant to pass Reddy to first. Then those on the bench +saw a glance and a nod pass between Reddy Ray and Coach Arthurs. Again +Salisbury pitched somewhat to the outside of the plate, but this time +Reddy stepped forward and swung.</p> + +<p><span class="i">Crack!</span></p> + +<p>Swift as an arrow and close to the ground the ball shot to left field. +Starke leaped frantically to head it off, and as it took a wicked bound +he dove forward head first, hands outstretched, and knocked it down. +But the ball rolled a few yards, and Starke had to recover from his +magnificent effort.</p> + +<p>No one on the field saw Ward and Homans running for the plate. All eyes +were on the gray, flitting shadow of a sprinter. One voice only, and +that was Murray's, boomed out in the silence. When Reddy turned second +base Starke reached the ball and threw for third. It was a beautiful +race between ball and runner for the bag. As Reddy stretched into the +air in a long slide the ball struck and shot off the ground with a +glancing bound. They reached the base at the same time. But Griffith, +trying to block the runner, went spinning down, and the ball rolled +toward the bleachers. Reddy was up and racing plateward so quickly +that it seemed he had not been momentarily checked. The few Wayne +rooters went wild.</p> + +<p>“Three runs!” yelled the delirious coaches. Weir was so overcome that +he did not know it was his turn at bat. When called in he hurried to +the plate and drove a line fly to centre that Keene caught only after +a hard run.</p> + +<p>Ken Ward rose from the bench to go out on the diamond. The voices of +his comrades sounded far away, as voices in a dream.</p> + +<p>“Three to the good now, Ward! It's yours!” said Captain Homans.</p> + +<p>“Only nine more batters! Peg, keep your feet leaded!” called Reddy Ray.</p> + +<p>“It's the seventh, and Place hasn't made a safe hit! Oh, Ken!” +came from Raymond.</p> + +<p>So all the boys vented their hope and trust in their pitcher.</p> + +<p>There was a mist before Ken's eyes that he could not rub away. The field +blurred at times. For five innings after the first he had fought some +unaccountable thing. He had kept his speed, his control, his memory of +batters, and he had pitched magnificently. But something had hovered +over him, and had grown more tangible as the game progressed. There was +a shadow always before his sight.</p> + +<p>In the last of the seventh, with Keene at bat, Ken faced the plate with +a strange unsteadiness and a shrinking for which he hated himself. What +was wrong with him? Had he been taken suddenly ill? Anger came to his +rescue, and he flung himself into his pitching with fierce ardor. He +quivered with a savage hope when Keene swung ineffectually at the high +in-shoot. He pitched another and another, and struck out the batter. +But now it meant little to see him slam down his bat in a rage. For +Ken had a foreboding that he could not do it again. When Prince came +up Ken found he was having difficulty in keeping the ball where he +wanted it. Prince batted a hot grounder to Blake, who fumbled. MacNeff +had three balls and one strike called upon him before he hit hard over +second base. But Raymond pounced upon the ball like a tiger, dashed +over the bag and threw to first, getting both runners.</p> + +<p>“Wull, Ken, make them hit to me,” growled Raymond.</p> + +<p>Ken sat down upon the bench far from the coach. He shunned Worry in that +moment. The warm praise of his fellow-players was meaningless to him. +Something was terribly wrong. He knew he shrank from going into the box +again, yet dared not admit it to himself. He tried to think clearly, and +found his mind in a whirl. When the Wayne batters went out in one, two, +three order, and it was time for Ken to pitch again, he felt ice form in +his veins.</p> + +<p>“Only six more hitters!” called Reddy's warning voice. It meant cheer +and praise from Reddy, but to Ken it seemed a knell.</p> + +<p>“Am I weakening?” muttered Ken. “Am I going up in the air? <span class="i">What</span> is +wrong with me?”</p> + +<p>He was nervous now and could not stand still and he felt himself +trembling. The ball was wet from the sweat in his hands; his hair +hung damp over his brow and he continually blew it out of his eyes. +With all his spirit he crushed back the almost overwhelming desire +to hurry, hurry, hurry. Once more, in a kind of passion, he fought +off the dreaded unknown weakness.</p> + +<p>With two balls pitched to Starke he realized that he had lost control +of his curve. He was not frightened for the loss of his curve, but he +went stiff with fear that he might lose control of his fast ball, his +best and last resort. Grimly he swung and let drive. Starke lined the +ball to left. The crowd lifted itself with a solid roar, and when Homans +caught the hit near the foul flag, subsided with a long groan. Ken set +his teeth. He knew he was not right, but did any one else know it? He +was getting magnificent support and luck was still with him.</p> + +<p>“Over the pan, Peg! Don't waste one!” floated from Reddy, warningly.</p> + +<p>Then Ken felt sure that Reddy had seen or divined his panic. How soon +would the Place players find it out? With his throat swelling and his +mouth dry and his whole body in a ferment Ken pitched to Martin. The +short-stop hit to Weir, who made a superb stop and throw. Two out!</p> + +<p>From all about Ken on the diamond came the low encouraging calls of +his comrades. Horton, a burly left-hander, stepped forward, swinging +a wagon-tongue. Ken could no longer steady himself and he pitched +hurriedly. One ball, two balls, one strike, three balls—how the big +looming Horton stood waiting over the plate! Almost in despair Ken +threw again, and Horton smote the ball with a solid rap. It was a low +bounder. Raymond pitched forward full length toward first base and the +ball struck in his glove with a crack, and stuck there. Raymond got up +and tossed it to McCord. A thunder of applause greeted this star play +of the game.</p> + +<p>The relief was so great that Ken fairly tottered as he went in to the +bench. Worry did not look at him. He scarcely heard what the boys said; +he felt them patting him on the back. Then to his amaze, and slowly +mounting certainty of disaster, the side was out, and it was again his +turn to pitch.</p> + +<p>“Only three more, Peg! The tail end of the batting list. <span class="i">Hang on!</span>” +said Reddy, as he trotted out.</p> + +<p>Ken's old speed and control momentarily came back to him. Yet he felt +he pitched rather by instinct than intent. He struck Griffith out.</p> + +<p>“Only two more, Peg!” called Reddy.</p> + +<p>The great audience sat in depressed, straining silence. Long since the +few Wayne rooters had lost their vocal powers.</p> + +<p>Conroy hit a high fly to McCord.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peg, <span class="i">only one more!</span>” came the thrilling cry. No other Wayne +player could speak a word then.</p> + +<p>With Salisbury up, Ken had a momentary flash of his old spirit and he +sent a straight ball over the plate, meaning it to be hit. Salisbury +did hit it, and safely, through short. The long silent, long waiting +crowd opened up with yells and stamping feet.</p> + +<p>A horrible, cold, deadly sickness seized upon Ken as he faced the fleet, +sure-hitting Keene. He lost his speed, he lost his control. Before he +knew what had happened he had given Keene a base on balls. Two on bases +and two out!</p> + +<p>The Place players began to leap and fling up their arms and scream. When +out of their midst Prince ran to the plate a piercing, ear-splitting +sound pealed up from the stands. As in a haze Ken saw the long lines of +white-sleeved students become violently agitated and move up and down +to strange, crashing yells.</p> + +<p>Then Ken Ward knew. That was the famed Place cheer for victory at the +last stand. It was the trumpet-call of Ken's ordeal. His mind was as +full of flashes of thought as there were streaks and blurs before his +eyes. He understood Worry now. He knew now what was wrong with him, what +had been coming all through that terrible game. The whole line of stands +and bleachers wavered before him, and the bright colors blended in one +mottled band.</p> + +<p>Still it was in him to fight to the last gasp. The pain in his breast, +and the nausea in his stomach, and the whirling fury in his mind did not +make him give up, though they robbed him of strength. The balls he threw +to Prince were wide of the plate and had nothing of his old speed. Prince, +also, took his base on balls.</p> + +<p>Bases full and two out!</p> + +<p>MacNeff, the captain, fronted the plate, and shook his big bat at Ken. +Of all the Place hitters Ken feared him the least. He had struck MacNeff +out twice, and deep down in his heart stirred a last desperate rally. +He had only to keep the ball high and in close to win this game. Oh! +for the control that had been his pride!</p> + +<p>The field and stands seemed to swim round Ken and all he saw with his +half-blinded eyes was the white plate, the batter, and Dean and the +umpire. Then he took his swing and delivered the ball.</p> + +<p>It went true. MacNeff missed it.</p> + +<p>Ken pitched again. The umpire held up one finger of each hand. +One ball and one strike. Two more rapid pitches, one high and one +wide. Two strikes and two balls.</p> + +<p>Ken felt his head bursting and there were glints of red before his eyes. +He bit his tongue to keep it from lolling out. He was almost done. That +ceaseless, infernal din had benumbed his being. With a wrenching of his +shoulder Ken flung up another ball. MacNeff leaned over it, then let it +go by.</p> + +<p>Three and two!</p> + +<p>It was torture for Ken. He had the game in his hands, yet could not +grasp it. He braced himself for the pitch and gave it all he had left +in him.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Too low!</span>” he moaned. MacNeff killed low balls.</p> + +<p>The big captain leaped forward with a terrific swing and hit the ball. +It lined over short, then began to rise, shot over Homans, and soared +far beyond, to drop and roll and roll.</p> + +<p>Through darkening sight Ken Ward saw runner after runner score, and saw +Homans pick up the ball as MacNeff crossed the plate with the winning +run. In Ken's ears seemed a sound of the end of the world.</p> + +<p>He thought himself the centre of a flying wheel. It was the boys +crowding around him. He saw their lips move but caught no words. +Then choking and tottering, upheld by Reddy Ray's strong arm, the +young pitcher walked off the field.</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XVII">Ken's Day</p> + + +<p>The slow return to the tavern, dressing and going to the station, the +ride home, the arrival at the training-house, the close-pressing, silent +companionship of Reddy Ray, Worry, and Raymond—these were dim details +of that day of calamity. Ken Ward's mind was dead—locked on that fatal +moment when he pitched a low ball to MacNeff. His friends left him in +the darkness of his room, knowing instinctively that it was best for +him to be alone.</p> + +<p>Ken undressed and crawled wearily into bed and stretched out as if he +knew and was glad he would never move his limbs again. The silence and +the darkness seemed to hide him from himself. His mind was a whirling +riot of fire, and in it was a lurid picture of that moment with MacNeff +at bat. Over and over and over he lived it in helpless misery. His ears +were muffled with that huge tide of sound. Again and again and again he +pitched the last ball, to feel his heart stop beating, to see the big +captain lunge at the ball, to watch it line and rise and soar.</p> + +<p>But gradually exhaustion subdued his mental strife, and he wandered in +mind and drifted into sleep. When he woke it was with a cold, unhappy +shrinking from the day. His clock told the noon hour; he had slept +long. Outside the June sunlight turned the maple leaves to gold. Was +it possible, Ken wondered dully, for the sun ever to shine again? Then +Scotty came bustling in.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Wau-rd, won't ye be hovin' breakfast?” he asked, anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Scotty, I'll never eat again,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>There were quick steps upon the stairs and Worry burst in, rustling +a newspaper.</p> + +<p>“Hello, old man!” he called, cheerily. “Say! Look at this!”</p> + +<p>He thrust the paper before Ken's eyes and pointed to a column:</p> + +<p class="quote"> </p> +<p class="quote-cen">Place Beat Wayne by a Lucky Drive.</p> +<p class="quote-cen">Young Ward Pitched the Greatest Game Ever</p> +<p class="quote-cen">Pitched on Place Field and Lost It in the Ninth,</p> +<p class="quote-cen">with Two Men Out and Three and Two on MacNeff.</p> +<p class="quote"> </p> + +<p>Ken's dull, gloom-steeped mind underwent a change, but he could not +speak. He sat up in bed, clutching the paper, and gazing from it to +the coach. Raymond came in, followed by Homans, and, last, Reddy Ray, +who sat down upon the bed. They were all smiling, and that seemed +horrible to Ken.</p> + +<p>“But, Worry—Reddy—I—I lost the game—threw it away!” faltered Ken.</p> + +<p>“Oh no, Peg. You pitched a grand game. Only in the stretch you got one +ball too low,” said Reddy.</p> + +<p>“Peg, you started to go up early in the game,” added Worry, with a smile, +as if the fact was amusing. “You made your first balloon-ascension in +the seventh. And in the ninth you exploded. I never seen a better case +of up-in-the-air. But, Peg, in spite of it you pitched a wonderful game. +You had me guessin'. I couldn't take you out of the box. Darn me if I +didn't think you'd shut Place out in spite of your rattles!”</p> + +<p>“Then—after all—it's not so terrible?” Ken asked, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“Why, boy, it's all right. We can lose a game, and to lose one like +that—it's as good as winnin'. Say! I'm a liar if I didn't see 'em +Place hitters turnin' gray-headed! Listen! That game over there was +tough on all the kids, you most of all, of course. But you all stood +the gaff. You've fought out a grillin' big game away from home. That's +over. You'll never go through that again. But it was the makin' of +you.... Here, look this over! Mebbe it'll cheer you up.”</p> + +<p>He took something from Raymond and tossed it upon the bed. It looked +like a round, red, woolly bundle. Ken unfolded it, to disclose a +beautiful sweater, with a great white “W” in the centre.</p> + +<p>“The boys all got 'em this mornin',” added Worry.</p> + +<p>It was then that the tragedy of the Place game lost its hold on Ken, +and retreated until it stood only dimly in outline.</p> + +<p>“I'll—I'll be down to lunch,” said Ken, irrelevantly.</p> + +<p>His smiling friends took the hint and left the room.</p> + +<p>Ken hugged the sweater while reading the <span class="i">Times-Star's</span> account of the +game. Whoever the writer was, Ken loved him. Then he hid his face in +the pillow, and though he denied to himself that he was crying, when he +arose it was certain that the pillow was wet.</p> + +<p>An hour later Ken presented himself at lunch, once more his old amiable +self. The boys freely discussed baseball—in fact, for weeks they had +breathed and dreamed baseball—but Ken noted, for the first time, where +superiority was now added to the old confidence. The Wayne varsity had +found itself. It outclassed Herne; it was faster than Place; it stood +in line for championship honors.</p> + +<p>“Peg, you needn't put on your uniform to-day,” said the coach. +“You rest up. But go over to Murray and have your arm rubbed. +Is it sore or stiff?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. I could work again to-day,” replied Ken.</p> + +<p>That afternoon, alone in his room, he worked out his pitching plan +for Saturday's game. It did not differ materially from former plans. +But for a working basis he had self-acquired knowledge of the Place +hitters. It had been purchased at dear cost. He feared none of them +except Prince. He decided to use a high curve ball over the plate +and let Prince hit, trusting to luck and the players behind him. Ken +remembered how the Place men had rapped hard balls at Raymond. Most +of them were right-field hitters. Ken decided to ask Homans to play +Reddy Ray in right field. Also he would arrange a sign with Reddy and +Raymond and McCord so they would know when he intended to pitch speed +on the outside corner of the plate. For both his curve and fast ball +so pitched were invariably hit toward right field. When it came to +MacNeff, Ken knew from the hot rankling deep down in him that he would +foil that hitter. He intended to make the others hit, pitching them +always, to the best of his judgment and skill, those balls they were +least likely to hit safely, yet which would cut the corners of the +plate if let go. No bases on balls this game, that he vowed grimly. +And if he got in a pinch he would fall back upon his last resort, the +fast jump ball; and now that he had gone through his baptism of fire +he knew he was not likely to lose his control. So after outlining his +plan he believed beyond reasonable doubt that he could win the game.</p> + +<p>The evening of that day he confided his plan to Reddy Ray and had the +gratification of hearing it warmly commended. While Ken was with Reddy +the coach sent word up to all rooms that the boys were to “cut” baseball +talk. They were to occupy their minds with reading, study, or games.</p> + +<p>“It's pretty slow,” said Reddy. “Peg, let's have some fun with somebody.”</p> + +<p>“I'm in. What'll we do?”</p> + +<p>“Can't you think? You're always leaving schemes to me. +Use your brains, boy.”</p> + +<p>Ken pondered a moment and then leaped up in great glee.</p> + +<p>“Reddy, I've got something out of sight,” he cried.</p> + +<p>“Spring it, then.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it's this: Kel Raymond is perfectly crazy about his new sweater. +He moons over it and he carries it around everywhere. Now it happens +that Kel is a deep sleeper. He's hard to wake up. I've always had to +shake him and kick him to wake him every morning. I'm sure we could get +him in that sweater without waking him. So to-morrow morning you come +down early, before seven, and help me put the sweater on Kel. We'll +have Worry and the boys posted and we'll call them in to see Kel, and +then we'll wake him and swear he slept in his sweater.”</p> + +<p>“Peg, you've a diabolical bent of mind. That'll be great. I'll be on +the job bright and early.”</p> + +<p>Ken knew he could rely on the chattering of the sparrows in the +woodbine round his window. They always woke him, and this morning +was no exception. It was after six and a soft, balmy breeze blew in. +Ken got up noiselessly and dressed. Raymond snored in blissful +ignorance of the conspiracy. Presently a gentle tapping upon the +door told Ken that Reddy was in the hall. Ken let him in and they +held a whispered consultation.</p> + +<p>“Let's see,” said Reddy, picking up the sweater. “It's going to be an +all-fired hard job. This sweater's tight. We'll wake him.”</p> + +<p>“Not on your life!” exclaimed Ken. “Not if we're quick. Now you roll +up the sweater so—and stretch it on your hands—so—and when I lift +Kel up you slip it over his head. It'll be like pie.”</p> + +<p>The operation was deftly though breathlessly performed, and all it +brought from Raymond was a sleepy: “Aw—lemme sleep,” and then he +was gone again.</p> + +<p>Ken and Reddy called all the boys, most of whom were in their pajamas, +and Worry and Scotty and Murray, and got them all up-stairs in Raymond's +room. Raymond lay in bed very innocently asleep, and no one would have +suspected that he had not slept in his sweater.</p> + +<p>“Well, I'll be dog-goned!” ejaculated Worry, laughing till he cried. +Murray was hugely delighted. These men were as much boys as the boys +they trained.</p> + +<p>The roar of laughter awakened Raymond, and he came out of sleep very +languid and drowsy.</p> + +<p>“Aw, Ken, lemme sleep s'more.”</p> + +<p>He opened his eyes and, seeing the room full of boys and men, he looked +bewildered, then suspicious.</p> + +<p>“Wull, what do all you guys want?”</p> + +<p>“We only came in to see you asleep in your new varsity sweater,” +replied Ken, with charming candor.</p> + +<p>At this Raymond discovered the sweater and he leaped out of bed.</p> + +<p>“It's a lie! I never slept in it! Somebody jobbed me! +I'll lick him!... It's a lie, I say!”</p> + +<p>He began to hop up and down in a black fury. The upper half of him +was swathed in the red sweater; beneath that flapped the end of his +short nightgown; and out of that stuck his thin legs, all knotted +and spotted with honorable bruises won in fielding hard-batted balls. +He made so ludicrous a sight that his visitors roared with laughter. +Raymond threw books, shoes, everything he could lay his hands upon, +and drove them out in confusion.</p> + +<p>Saturday seemed a long time in arriving, but at last it came. All +morning the boys kept close under cover of the training-house. Some +one sent them a package of placards. These were round, in the shape +of baseballs. They were in the college colors, the background of which +was a bright red, and across this had been printed in white the words: +“<span class="i">Peg Ward's Day!</span>”</p> + +<p>“What do you think of that?” cried the boys, with glistening eyes. +But Ken was silent.</p> + +<p>Worry came in for lunch and reported that the whole west end of the +city had been placarded.</p> + +<p>“The students have had millions of 'em cards printed,” said Worry. +“They're everywhere. Murray told me there was a hundred students +tackin' 'em up on the stands and bleachers. They've got 'em on +sticks of wood for pennants for the girls.... ‘Peg Ward's Day!’ +Well, I guess!”</p> + +<p>At two-thirty o'clock the varsity ran upon the field, to the welcoming +though somewhat discordant music of the university band. What the music +lacked in harmony it made up in volume, and as noise appeared to be the +order of the day, it was most appropriate. However, a great booming +cheer from the crowded stands drowned the band.</p> + +<p>It was a bright summer day, with the warm air swimming in the thick, +golden light of June, with white clouds sailing across the blue sky. +Grant Field resembled a beautiful crater with short, sloping sides +of white and gold and great splashes of red and dots of black all +encircling a round lake of emerald. Flashes of gray darted across +the green, and these were the Place players in practice. Everywhere +waved and twinkled and gleamed the red-and-white Wayne placards. And +the front of the stands bore wide-reaching bands of these colored cards. +The grand-stand, with its pretty girls and gowns, and waving pennants, +and dark-coated students, resembled a huge mosaic of many colors, +moving and flashing in the sunlight. One stand set apart for the Place +supporters was a solid mass of blue and gold. And opposite to it, in +vivid contrast, was a long circle of bleachers, where five thousand +red-placarded, red-ribboned Wayne students sat waiting to tear the +air into shreds with cheers. Dale and Stevens and Bryan, wearing their +varsity sweaters, strode to and fro on the cinder-path, and each carried +a megaphone. Cheers seemed to lurk in the very atmosphere. A soft, happy, +subdued roar swept around the field. Fun and good-nature and fair-play +and love of college pervaded that hum of many voices. Yet underneath it +all lay a suppressed spirit, a hidden energy, waiting for the battle.</p> + +<p>When Wayne had finished a brief, snappy practice, Kern, a National +League umpire, called the game, with Place at bat. Ken Ward walked to +the pitcher's slab amid a prolonged outburst, and ten thousand red cards +bearing his name flashed like mirrors against the sunlight. Then the +crashing Place yell replied in defiance.</p> + +<p>Ken surveyed his fellow-players, from whom came low, inspiriting words; +then, facing the batter, Keene, he eyed him in cool speculation, and +swung into supple action.</p> + +<p>The game started with a rush. Keene dumped the ball down the third-base +line. Blake, anticipating the play, came rapidly in, and bending while +in motion picked up the ball and made a perfect snap-throw to McCord, +beating Keene by a foot. Prince drove a hot grass-cutter through the +infield, and the Place stand let out shrill, exultant yells. MacNeff +swung powerfully on the first ball, which streaked like a flitting wing +close under his chin. Prince, with a good lead, had darted for second. +It was wonderful how his little, short legs carried him so swiftly. And +his slide was what might have been expected of a famous football player. +He hit the ground and shot into the bag just as Raymond got Dean's +unerring throw too late. Again the Place rooters howled. MacNeff +watched his second strike go by. The third pitch, remorselessly true +to that fatal place, retired him on strikes; and a roll of thunder +pealed from under the Wayne bleachers. Starke struck at the first ball +given him. The Place waiters were not waiting on Ken to-day; evidently +the word had gone out to hit. Ken's beautiful, speedy ball, breast high, +was certainly a temptation. Starke lifted a long, lofty fly far beyond +Homans, who ran and ran, and turned to get it gracefully at his breast.</p> + +<p>Worry Arthurs sat stern and intent upon the Wayne bench. “Get that hit +back and go them a run better!” was his sharp order.</p> + +<p>The big, loose-jointed Salisbury, digging his foot into the dirt, +settled down and swung laboriously. Homans waited. The pitch was a +strike, and so was the next. But strikes were small matters for the +patient Homans. He drew three balls after that, and then on the next +he hit one of his short, punky safeties through the left side of the +infield. The Wayne crowd accepted it with vigor of hands and feet. +Raymond trotted up, aggressive and crafty. He intended to bunt, and +the Place infield knew it and drew in closer. Raymond fouled one, then +another, making two strikes. But he dumped the next and raced for the +base. Salisbury, big and slow as he was, got the ball and threw Raymond +out. Homans over-ran second, intending to go on, but, halted by Weir's +hoarse coaching, he ran back.</p> + +<p>When Reddy Ray stepped out it was to meet a rousing cheer, and then the +thousands of feet went crash! crash! crash! Reddy fouled the first ball +over the grand-stand. Umpire Kern threw out a new one, gleaming white. +The next two pitches were wide; the following one Reddy met with the +short poke he used when hitting to left field. The ball went over +Martin's head, scoring Homans with the first run of the game. That +allowed the confident Wayne crowd to get up and yell long and loud. +Weir fouled out upon the first ball pitched, and Blake, following him, +forced Reddy out at second on an infield hit.</p> + +<p>Place tied the score in the second inning on Weir's fumble of Martin's +difficult grounder, a sacrifice by Horton, and Griffith's safe fly back +of second.</p> + +<p>With the score tied, the teams blanked inning after inning until the +fifth. Wayne found Salisbury easy to bat, but a Place player was always +in front of the hit. And Place found Peg Ward unsolvable when hits meant +runs. Ken kept up his tireless, swift cannonading over the plate, making +his opponents hit, and when they got a runner on base he extended himself +with the fast raise ball. In the first of the fifth, with two out, Prince +met one of Ken's straight ones hard and fair and drove the ball into +the bleachers for a home-run. That solid blue-and-gold square of Place +supporters suddenly became an insane tossing, screeching mêlée.</p> + +<p>The great hit also seemed to unleash the fiery spirit which had waited +its chance. The Wayne players came in for their turn like angry bees. +Trace got a base on balls. Dean sacrificed. Ken also essayed to bunt +and fouled himself out on strikes. Again Homans hit safely, but the +crafty Keene, playing close, held Trace at third.</p> + +<p>“We want the score!” Crash! crash! crash! went the bleachers.</p> + +<p>With Raymond up and two out, the chance appeared slim, for he was not +strong at batting. But he was great at trying, and this time, as luck +would have it, he hit clean through second. Trace scored, and Homans, +taking desperate risk, tried to reach home on the hit and failed. It +was fast, exciting work, and the crowd waxed hotter and hotter.</p> + +<p>For Place the lumbering Horton hit a twisting grounder to McCord, who +batted it down with his mitt, jumped for it, turned and fell on the base, +but too late to get his man. Griffith swung on Ken's straight ball and, +quite by accident, blocked a little bunt out of reach of both Dean and +Ken. It was a safe hit. Conroy stepped into Ken's fast ball, which ticked +his shirt, and the umpire sent him down to first amid the vociferous +objections of the Wayne rooters.</p> + +<p>Three runners on bases and no one out. How the Place students bawled +and beat their seats and kicked the floor!</p> + +<p>Ken took a longer moment of deliberation. He showed no sign that the +critical situation unnerved him. But his supple shoulders knit closer, +and his long arm whipped harder as he delivered the ball.</p> + +<p>Salisbury, a poor batter, apparently shut his eyes and swung with +all his might. All present heard the ringing crack of the bat, but +few saw the ball. Raymond leaped lengthwise to the left and flashed +out his glove. There was another crack, of different sound. Then +Raymond bounded over second base, kicking the bag, and with fiendish +quickness sped the ball to first. Kern, the umpire, waved both arms +wide. Then to the gasping audience the play became clear. Raymond +had caught Salisbury's line hit in one hand, enabling him to make a +triple play. A mighty shout shook the stands. Then strong, rhythmic, +lusty cheers held the field in thrall for the moment, while the teams +changed sides.</p> + +<p>In Wayne's half of the sixth both Weir and McCord hit safely, +but sharp fielding by Place held them on base.</p> + +<p>Again the formidable head of Place's batting order was up. Keene lined +to right field, a superb hit that looked good for a triple, but it had +not the speed to get beyond the fleet sprinter.</p> + +<p>Ken eyed the curly-haired Prince as if he was saying to himself: +“I'm putting them over to-day. Hit if you can!”</p> + +<p>Prince appeared to jump up and chop Ken's first pitch. The ball +struck on fair ground and bounded very high, and was a safe hit. +Prince took a long lead off first base, and three times slid back +to the bag when Ken tried to catch him. The fast football man +intended to steal; Ken saw it, Dean saw it; everybody saw it. +Whereupon Ken delivered a swift ball outside of the plate. As +Prince went down little Dean caught the pitch and got the ball +away quick as lightning. Raymond caught it directly in the base-line, +and then, from the impact of the sliding Prince, he went hurtling +down. Runner, baseman, and ball disappeared in a cloud of dust. +Kern ran nimbly down the field and waved Prince off.</p> + +<p>But Raymond did not get up. The umpire called time. Worry Arthurs +ran out, and he and Weir carried Raymond to the bench, where they +bathed his head and wiped the blood from his face.</p> + +<p>Presently Raymond opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Wull, what struck me?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothin'. There was a trolley loose in the field,” replied Worry. +“Can you get up? Why did you try to block that football rusher?”</p> + +<p>Raymond shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Did I tag the big fat devil?” he queried, earnestly. “Is he out?”</p> + +<p>“You got him a mile,” replied Worry.</p> + +<p>After a few moments Raymond was able to stand upon his feet, but he +was so shaky that Worry sent Schoonover to second.</p> + +<p>Then the cheering leaders before the bleachers bellowed through their +megaphones, and the students, rising to their feet, pealed out nine +ringing “<span class="i">Waynes!</span>” and added a roaring “Raymond!” to the end.</p> + +<p>With two out, Kern called play.</p> + +<p>Once again MacNeff was at bat. He had not made a foul in his two times +up. He was at Ken's mercy, and the Wayne rooters were equally merciless.</p> + +<p>“Ho! the slugging captain comes!”</p> + +<p>“Get him a board!”</p> + +<p>“Fluke hitter!”</p> + +<p>“Mac, that was a lucky stab of yours Wednesday! Hit one <span class="i">now</span>!”</p> + +<p>No spectator of that game missed Ken's fierce impetuosity when he +faced MacNeff. He was as keen strung as a wire when he stood erect +in the box, and when he got into motion he whirled far around, swung +back bent, like a spring, and seemed to throw his whole body with the +ball. One—two—three strikes that waved up in their velocity, and +MacNeff for the third time went out.</p> + +<p>Clatter and smash came from the bleachers, long stamping of feet, +whistle and bang, for voices had become weak.</p> + +<p>A hit, an error, a double play, another hit, a steal, and a forced +out—these told Wayne's dogged, unsuccessful trial for the winning run.</p> + +<p>But Worry Arthurs had curtly said to his pitcher: “Peg, cut loose!” +and man after man for Place failed to do anything with his terrific +speed. It was as if Ken had reserved himself wholly for the finish.</p> + +<p>In the last of the eighth Dean hit one that caromed off Griffith's shin, +and by hard running the little catcher made second. Ken sent him to third +on a fielder's choice. It was then the run seemed forthcoming. Salisbury +toiled in the box to coax the wary Homans. The Wayne captain waited until +he got a ball to his liking. Martin trapped the hit and shot the ball +home to catch Dean. It was another close decision, as Dean slid with the +ball, but the umpire decided against the runner.</p> + +<p>“Peg, lam them over now!” called Reddy Ray.</p> + +<p>It was the first of the ninth, with the weak end of Place's hitting +strength to face Ken. Griffith, Conroy, Salisbury went down before +him as grass before a scythe. To every hitter Ken seemed to bring +more effort, more relentless purpose to baffle them, more wonderful +speed and control of his fast ball.</p> + +<p>Through the stands and bleachers the word went freely that the game +would go to ten innings, eleven innings, twelve innings, with the +chances against the tiring Salisbury.</p> + +<p>But on the Wayne bench there was a different order of conviction. Worry +sparkled like flint. Homans, for once not phlegmatic, faced the coaching +line at third. Raymond leaned pale and still against the bench. Ken was +radiant.</p> + +<p>Reddy Ray bent over the row of bats and singled out his own. His strong, +freckled hands clenched the bat and whipped it through the air. His eyes +were on fire when he looked at the stricken Raymond.</p> + +<p>“Kel, something may happen yet before I get up to the plate,” he said. +“But if it doesn't—”</p> + +<p>Then he strode out, knocked the dirt from his spikes, and stepped into +position. Something about Reddy at that moment, or something potent in +the unforeseen play to come, quieted the huge crowd.</p> + +<p>Salisbury might have sensed it. He fussed with the ball and took a long +while to pitch. Reddy's lithe form whirled around and seemed to get into +running motion with the crack of the ball. Martin made a beautiful pick-up +of the sharply bounding ball, but he might as well have saved himself the +exertion. The championship sprinter beat the throw by yards.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the whole Wayne contingent arose in a body, a tribute to what +they expected of Reddy, and rent Grant Field with one tremendous outburst.</p> + +<p>As it ceased a hoarse voice of stentorian volume rose and swelled on +the air.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Wayne wins!</span> <span class="sc">Watch him run</span>!”</p> + +<p>It came from Murray, who loved his great sprinter.</p> + +<p>Thrice Salisbury threw to MacNeff to hold Reddy close to first base, +but he only wasted his strength. Then he turned toward the batter, +and he had scarcely twitched a muscle in the beginning of his swing, +when the keen sprinter was gone like a flash. His running gave the +impression of something demon-like forced by the wind. He had covered +the ground and was standing on the bag when Prince caught Conroy's throw.</p> + +<p>Pandemonium broke out in the stands and bleachers, and a piercing, +continuous scream. The sprinter could not be stopped. That was plain. +He crouched low, watching Salisbury. Again and again the pitcher tried +to keep Reddy near second base, but as soon as Martin or Prince returned +the ball Reddy took his lead off the bag. He meant to run on the first +pitch; he was on his toes. And the audience went wild, and the Place +varsity showed a hurried, nervous strain. They yelled to Salisbury, +but neither he nor any one else could have heard a thunderbolt in +that moment.</p> + +<p>Again Salisbury toed the rubber, and he hesitated, with his face turned +toward second. But he had to pitch the ball, and as his elbow trembled +the sprinter shot out of his tracks with the start that had made him +famous. His red hair streaked in the wind like a waving flame. His +beautiful stride swallowed distance. Then he sailed low and slid into +the base as the ball struck Griffith's hands.</p> + +<p>Reddy was on third now, with no one out, with two balls upon Weir and +no strikes. In the fury of sound runner and batter exchanged a glance +that was a sign.</p> + +<p>The sprinter crouched low, watching Salisbury. For the third time, +as the pitcher vibrated with the nervous force preceding his delivery, +Reddy got his start. He was actually running before the ball left +Salisbury's hand. Almost it seemed that with his marvellous fleetness +he was beating the ball to the plate. But as the watchers choked in +agony of suspense Weir bunted the ball, and Reddy Ray flashed across +the plate with the winning run.</p> + +<p>Then all that seemed cheering, din, and stamping roar deadened in an +earth-shaking sound like an avalanche.</p> + +<p>The students piled out of the bleachers in streams and poured +on the field. An irresistible, hungry, clamoring flood, they +submerged the players.</p> + +<p>Up went Ken upon sturdy shoulders, and up went Reddy Ray and +Kel and Homans and Dean—all the team, and last the red-faced +Worry Arthurs. Then began the triumphant march about Grant Field +and to the training-house.</p> + +<p>It was a Wayne day, a day for the varsity, for Homans and Raymond, +and for the great sprinter, but most of all it was Peg Ward's day.</p> + + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head" id="XVIII">Breaking Training</p> + + +<p>The Wayne varsity was a much-handled, storm-tossed team before it +finally escaped the clutches of the students. Every player had a +ringing in his ears and a swelling in his heart. When the baseball +uniforms came off they were carefully packed in the bottoms of trunks, +and twelve varsity sweaters received as tender care as if they were +the flimsy finery dear to the boys' sisters.</p> + +<p>At six the players were assembled in the big reading-room, and there +was a babel of exultant conversation. Worry suddenly came in, shouting +to persons without, who manifestly wanted to enter. “Nothin' doin' yet! +I'll turn the boys over to you in one hour!” Then he banged the door +and locked it.</p> + +<p>Worry was a sight to behold. His collar was unbuttoned, and his necktie +disarranged. He had no hat. His hair was damp and rumpled, and his red +face worked spasmodically.</p> + +<p>“Where's Peg?” he yelled, and his little bright eyes blinked at his +players. It was plain that Worry could not see very well then. Some +one pushed Ken out, and Worry fell on his neck. He hugged him close +and hard. Then he dived at Reddy and mauled him. Next he fell all over +little crippled Raymond, who sat propped up in an arm-chair. For once +Raymond never murmured for being jumped on. Upon every player, and even +the substitutes, Worry expressed his joy in violent manner, and then he +fell down himself, perspiring, beaming, utterly exhausted. This man was +not the cold, caustic coach of the cage-days, nor the stern, hard ruler +from the bench, nor the smooth worker on his players' feelings. This was +Worry Arthurs with his varsity at the close of a championship season. +No one but the boys who had fought at his bidding for Wayne ever saw +him like that.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Peg, it was glorious! This game gives us the record and the +championship. Say, Peg, this was the great game for you to win. +For you made Place hit, and then when they got runners on bases +you shut down on 'em. You made MacNeff look like a dub. You gave +that home-run to Prince.”</p> + +<p>“I sure was after MacNeff's scalp,” replied Ken. “And I put the ball +over for Prince to hit. What else could I do? Why, that little chunky +cuss has an eye, and he can sting the ball—he's almost as good as Reddy. +But, Worry, you mustn't give me the credit. Reddy won the game, you know.”</p> + +<p>“You talk like a kid,” replied Reddy, for once not cool and easy. +“I cut loose and ran some; but, Peg, you and Raymond won the game.”</p> + +<p>“Wull, you make me sick,” retorted Raymond, threatening to get up. +“There wasn't anything to this day but Peg Ward.”</p> + +<p>Ken replied with more heat than dignity, and quick as a flash he and +Reddy and Raymond were involved in a wordy war, trying to place the +credit for winning the game. They dragged some of the other boys into +the fierce argument.</p> + +<p>Worry laughed and laughed; then, as this loyal bunch of players +threatened to come to blows, he got angry.</p> + +<p>“<span class="i">Shut up!</span>” he roared. “I never seen such a lot of hot-headed kids. +Shut up, and let me tell you who won this Place game. It'll go down +on record as a famous game, so you'll do well to have it straight. +Listen! The Wayne varsity won this game. Homans, your captain, won it, +because he directed the team and followed orders. He hit and run some, +too. Reddy Ray won this game by bein' a blue streak of chain lightnin' +on the bases. Raymond won it by makin' a hit when we all expected +him to fall dead. He won it twice, the second time with the greatest +fieldin' play ever pulled off on Grant Field. Dean won the game by +goin' up and hangin' onto Peg's jump ball. McCord won it by diggin' +low throws out of the dirt. Weir was around when it happened, wasn't +he—and Blake and Trace? Then there was Peg himself. He won the game +a <span class="i">little</span>. Say! he had Place trimmed when he stepped on the slab in +the first innin'. So you all won the big Wayne-Place game.”</p> + +<p>Then Worry advanced impressively to the table, put his hand in his +breast pocket and brought forth a paper.</p> + +<p>“You've won this for me, boys,” he said, spreading the paper out.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” they asked, wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“Nothin' of much importance to you boys as compared with winnin' +the game, but some to Worry Arthurs.” He paused with a little choke. +“It's a five-year contract to coach Wayne's baseball teams.”</p> + +<p>A thundering cheer attested to the importance of that document +to the boys.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Worry, but I'm glad!” cried Ken. “Then your son Harry will be +in college next year—will be on the team?”</p> + +<p>“Say, he'll have to go some to make next year's varsity, with only +two or three vacancies to fill. Now, fellows, I want to know things. +Sit down now and listen.”</p> + +<p>They all took seats, leaving the coach standing at the table.</p> + +<p>“Homans, is there any hope of your comin' back to college next year?”</p> + +<p>“None, I'm sorry to say,” replied the captain. “Father intends to put +me in charge of his business.”</p> + +<p>“Reddy, how about a post-graduate course for you? You need that P.G.”</p> + +<p>“Worry, come to think of it, I really believe my college education +would not be complete without that P.G.,” replied Reddy, with the +old cool speech, and a merry twinkle in his eye.</p> + +<p>At this the boys howled like Indians, and Worry himself did a +little war-dance.</p> + +<p>“Raymond, you'll come back?” went on the coach.</p> + +<p>The second-baseman appeared highly insulted. “Come back? Wull, what +do you take me for? I'd like to see the guy who can beat me out of +my place next season.”</p> + +<p>This brought another hearty cheer.</p> + +<p>Further questioning made clear that all the varsity except Homans, +Blake, and McCord would surely return to college.</p> + +<p>“Fine! Fine! Fine!” exclaimed Worry.</p> + +<p>Then he began to question each player as to what he intended to +do through the summer months, and asked him to promise not to play +ball on any summer nines.</p> + +<p>“Peg, you're the one I'm scared about,” said Worry, earnestly. “These +crack teams at the seashore and in the mountains will be hot after you. +They've got coin too, Peg, and they'll spend it to get you.”</p> + +<p>“All I've got to say is they'll waste their breath talking to me,” +replied Ken, with a short laugh.</p> + +<p>“What are you goin' to do all summer?” asked Worry, curiously. +“Where will you be?”</p> + +<p>“I expect to go to Arizona.”</p> + +<p>“Arizona? What in the deuce are you goin' way out there for?”</p> + +<p>Ken paused, and then when about to reply Raymond burst out.</p> + +<p>“Worry, he says it's forestry, but he only took up that fool subject +because he likes to chase around in the woods. He's nutty about trees +and bears and mustangs. He was in Arizona last summer. You ought to +hear some of the stories he's told me. Why, if they're true he's got +Frank Nelson and Jim Hawkins skinned to a frazzle.”</p> + +<p>“For instance?” asked Worry, very much surprised and interested.</p> + +<p>“Why stories about how he was chased and captured by outlaws, and +lassoed bears, and had scraps with Mexicans, and was in wild caves +and forest fires, and lots about a Texas ranger who always carried +two big guns. I've had the nightmare ever since we've been in the +training-house. Oh, Ken can tell stories all right. He's as much +imagination as he's got speed with a ball. And say, Worry, he's got +the nerve to tell me that this summer he expects to help an old hunter +lasso mountain-lions out there in Arizona. What do you think of that?”</p> + +<p>“It's straight goods!” protested Ken, solemnly facing the +bright-eyed boys.</p> + +<p>“We want to go along!” yelled everybody.</p> + +<p>“Say, Peg, I ain't stuck on that idee, not a little bit,” +replied the coach, dubiously.</p> + +<p>“Worry has begun to worry about next season. He's afraid Peg will +get that arm chewed off,” put in Reddy.</p> + +<p>“Well, if I've got to choose between lettin' Peg chase mountain-lions +and seein' him chased by 'em fat-head directors, I'll take my chances +with the lions.”</p> + +<p>Then all in a moment Worry became serious.</p> + +<p>“Boys, it's time to break trainin'. I ain't got much to say. You're the +best team I ever developed. Let it go at that. In a few minutes you are +free to go out to the banquets and receptions, to all that's waitin' for +you. And it will be great. To-morrow you will be sayin' good-bye to me +and to each other and scatterin' to your homes. But let's not forget +each other and how we plugged this year. Sure, it was only baseball, +but, after all, I think good, hard play, on the square and against long +odds, will do as much for you as your studies. Let the old baseball +coach assure you of that.”</p> + +<p>He paused, paced a few steps to and fro, hands behind his back, +thoughtful and somewhat sad.</p> + +<p>The members of the varsity sat pale and still, faces straight before +them, eyes shining with memory of that long up-hill struggle, and +glistening, too, with the thought that the time had come for parting.</p> + +<p>“Homans, will you please see to the election of the new captain?” +said Worry.</p> + +<p>Homans stepped out briskly and placed a hat, twelve folded slips of +paper, and a pencil upon the table.</p> + +<p>“Fellows, you will follow me in our regular batting order,” directed +Homans. “Each man is to write his name on one side of a slip of paper +and his choice for captain on the other side. Drop the paper in the hat.”</p> + +<p>Homans seated himself at the table and quickly cast his vote. Raymond +hobbled up next. Reddy Ray followed him. And so, in silence, and with +a certain grave dignity of manner that had yet a suggestion of pleasure, +the members of the varsity voted.</p> + +<p>When they had resumed their seats Homans turned the slips out of the +hat and unfolded them.</p> + +<p>“These votes will be given to the athletic directors and kept on record,” +he said. “But we will never see but one side of them. That is Wayne's +rule in electing captains, so the players will not know how each voted. +But this is an occasion I am happy to see when we shall all know who +voted for who. It shall be a little secret of which we will never speak.”</p> + +<p>He paused while he arranged the slips neatly together.</p> + +<p>“There are here twelve votes. Eleven have been cast for one player—one +for another player! Will you all please step forward and look?”</p> + +<p>In an intense stillness the varsity surrounded the table. There was +a sudden sharp gasp from one of them.</p> + +<p>With a frank, glad smile Homans held out his hand.</p> + +<p>“<span class="sc">Captain Ward</span>!”</p> + +<hr class="exsmall"> + +<p class="chapter-head">The End</p> +</div> + +<hr class="full"> + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Pitcher, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG PITCHER *** + +***** This file should be named 19246-h.htm or 19246-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/4/19246/ + +Produced by Justin Gillbank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Young Pitcher + +Author: Zane Grey + +Release Date: September 11, 2006 [EBook #19246] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG PITCHER *** + + + + +Produced by Justin Gillbank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +The Young Pitcher + +By Zane Grey + +1911 + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. The Varsity Captain + + II. A Great Arm + + III. Prisoner of the Sophs + + IV. The Call for Candidates + + V. The Cage + + VI. Out on the Field + + VII. Annihilation + + VIII. Examinations + + IX. President Halstead on College Spirit + + X. New Players + + XI. State University Game + + XII. Ken Clashes with Graves + + XIII. Friendship + + XIV. The Herne Game + + XV. A Matter of Principle + + XVI. The First Place Game + + XVII. Ken's Day + + XVIII. Breaking Training + + + + +I + +THE VARSITY CAPTAIN + + +Ken Ward had not been at the big university many days before he +realized the miserable lot of a freshman. + +At first he was sorely puzzled. College was so different from what +he had expected. At the high school of his home town, which, being +the capital of the State, was no village, he had been somebody. Then +his summer in Arizona, with its wild adventures, had given him a +self-appreciation which made his present situation humiliating. + +There were more than four thousand students at the university. Ken +felt himself the youngest, the smallest, the one of least consequence. +He was lost in a shuffle of superior youths. In the forestry department +he was a mere boy; and he soon realized that a freshman there was the +same as anywhere. The fact that he weighed nearly one hundred and sixty +pounds, and was no stripling, despite his youth, made not one whit of +difference. + +Unfortunately, his first overture of what he considered good-fellowship +had been made to an upper-classman, and had been a grievous mistake. +Ken had not yet recovered from its reception. He grew careful after +that, then shy, and finally began to struggle against disappointment +and loneliness. + +Outside of his department, on the campus and everywhere he ventured, +he found things still worse. There was something wrong with him, with +his fresh complexion, with his hair, with the way he wore his tie, +with the cut of his clothes. In fact, there was nothing right about +him. He had been so beset that he could not think of anything but +himself. One day, while sauntering along a campus path, with his hands +in his pockets, he met two students coming toward him. They went to +right and left, and, jerking his hands from his pockets, roared in +each ear, "How dare you walk with your hands in your pockets!" + +Another day, on the library step, he encountered a handsome bareheaded +youth with a fine, clean-cut face and keen eyes, who showed the true +stamp of the great university. + +"Here," he said, sharply, "aren't you a freshman?" + +"Why--yes," confessed Ken. + +"I see you have your trousers turned up at the bottom." + +"Yes--so I have." For the life of him Ken could not understand why +that simple fact seemed a crime, but so it was. + +"Turn them down!" ordered the student. + +Ken looked into the stern face and flashing eyes of his tormentor, +and then meekly did as he had been commanded. + +"Boy, I've saved your life. We murder freshmen here for that," +said the student, and then passed on up the steps. + +In the beginning it was such incidents as these that had bewildered Ken. +He passed from surprise to anger, and vowed he would have something to +say to these upper-classmen. But when the opportunity came Ken always +felt so little and mean that he could not retaliate. This made him +furious. He had not been in college two weeks before he could distinguish +the sophomores from the seniors by the look on their faces. He hated the +sneering "Sophs," and felt rising in him the desire to fight. But he +both feared and admired seniors. They seemed so aloof, so far above +him. He was in awe of them, and had a hopeless longing to be like +them. And as for the freshmen, it took no second glance for Ken to +pick them out. They were of two kinds--those who banded together in +crowds and went about yelling, and running away from the Sophs, and +those who sneaked about alone with timid step and furtive glance. + +Ken was one of these lonesome freshmen. He was pining for companionship, +but he was afraid to open his lips. Once he had dared to go into Carlton +Hall, the magnificent club-house which had been given to the university +by a famous graduate. The club was for all students--Ken had read that +on the card sent to him, and also in the papers. But manifestly the +upper-classmen had a different point of view. Ken had gotten a glimpse +into the immense reading-room with its open fireplace and huge chairs, +its air of quiet study and repose; he had peeped into the brilliant +billiard-hall and the gymnasium; and he had been so impressed and +delighted with the marble swimming-tank that he had forgotten himself +and walked too near the pool. Several students accidentally bumped him +into it. It appeared the students were so eager to help him out that +they crowded him in again. When Ken finally got out he learned the +remarkable fact that he was the sixteenth freshman who had been +accidentally pushed into the tank that day. + +So Ken Ward was in a state of revolt. He was homesick; he was lonely +for a friend; he was constantly on the lookout for some trick; his +confidence in himself had fled; his opinion of himself had suffered +a damaging change; he hardly dared call his soul his own. + +But that part of his time spent in study or attending lectures +more than made up for the other. Ken loved his subject and was +eager to learn. He had a free hour in the afternoon, and often he +passed this in the library, sometimes in the different exhibition +halls. He wanted to go into Carlton Club again, but his experience +there made him refrain. + +One afternoon at this hour Ken happened to glance into a lecture-room. +It was a large amphitheatre full of noisy students. The benches were +arranged in a circle running up from a small pit. Seeing safety in the +number of students who were passing in, Ken went along. He thought he +might hear an interesting lecture. It did not occur to him that he did +not belong there. The university had many departments and he felt that +any lecture-room was open to him. Still, caution had become a habit +with him, and he stepped down the steep aisle looking for an empty bench. + +How steep the aisle was! The benches appeared to be on the side of +a hill. Ken slipped into an empty one. There was something warm and +pleasant in the close contact of so many students, in the ripple of +laughter and the murmur of voices. Ken looked about him with a feeling +that he was glad to be there. + +It struck him, suddenly, that the room had grown strangely silent. +Even the shuffling steps of the incoming students had ceased. Ken +gazed upward with a queer sense of foreboding. Perhaps he only +imagined that all the students above were looking down at him. +Hurriedly he glanced below. A sea of faces, in circular rows, +was turned his way. + +There was no mistake about it. He was the attraction. At the same +instant when he prayed to sink through the bench out of sight a +burning anger filled his breast. What on earth had he done now? +He knew it was something; he felt it. That quiet moment seemed an +age. Then the waiting silence burst. + +"_Fresh on fifth!_" yelled a student in one of the lower benches. + +"FRESH ON FIFTH!" bawled another at the top of his lungs. + +Ken's muddled brain could make little of the matter. He saw he was in +the fifth row of benches, and that all the way around on either side +of him the row was empty. The four lower rows were packed, and above +him students were scattered all over. He had the fifth row of benches +to himself. + +"Fresh on fifth!" + +Again the call rang up from below. It was repeated, now from the left of +the pit and then from the right. A student yelled it from the first row +and another from the fourth. It banged back and forth. Not a word came +from the upper part of the room. + +Ken sat up straight with a very red face. It was his intention to leave +the bench, but embarrassment that was developing into resentment held +him fast. What a senseless lot these students were! Why could they not +leave him in peace? How foolish of him to go wandering about in strange +lecture-rooms! + +A hand pressed Ken's shoulder. He looked back to see a student bending +down toward him. + +"_Hang, Freshie!_" this fellow whispered. + +"What's it all about?" asked Ken. "What have I done, anyway? I never +was in here before." + +"All Sophs down there. They don't allow freshmen to go below the sixth +row. There've been several rushes this term. And the big one's coming. +Hang, Freshie! We're all with you." + +"Fresh on fifth!" The tenor of the cry had subtly changed. Good-humored +warning had changed to challenge. It pealed up from many lusty throats, +and became general all along the four packed rows. + +"_Hang, Freshie!_" bellowed a freshman from the topmost row. It +was acceptance of the challenge, the battle-cry flung down to the Sophs. +A roar arose from the pit. The freshmen, outnumbering the sophomores, +drowned the roar in a hoarser one. Then both sides settled back in +ominous waiting. + +Ken thrilled in all his being. The freshmen were with him! That roar +told him of united strength. All in a moment he had found comrades, +and he clenched his fingers into the bench, vowing he would hang there +until hauled away. + +"Fresh on fifth!" shouted a Soph in ringing voice. He stood up in +the pit and stepped to the back of the second bench. "Fresh on fifth! +Watch me throw him out!" + +He was a sturdily built young fellow and balanced himself gracefully on +the backs of the benches, stepping up from one to the other. There was +a bold gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face. He showed good-natured +contempt for a freshman and an assurance that was close to authority. + +Ken sat glued to his seat in mingled fear and wrath. Was he to be the +butt of those overbearing sophomores? He thought he could do nothing but +hang on with all his might. The ascending student jumped upon the fourth +bench and, reaching up, laid hold of Ken with no gentle hands. His grip +was so hard that Ken had difficulty in stifling a cry of pain. This, +however, served to dispel his panic and make him angry clear through. + +The sophomore pulled and tugged with all his strength, yet he could not +dislodge Ken. The freshmen howled gleefully for him to "Hang! hang!" + +Then two more sophomores leaped up to help the leader. A blank silence +followed this move, and all the freshmen leaned forward breathlessly. +There was a sharp ripping of cloth. Half of Ken's coat appeared in the +hands of one of his assailants. + +Suddenly Ken let go his hold, pushed one fellow violently, then swung +his fists. It might have been unfair, for the sophomores were beneath +him and balancing themselves on the steep benches, but Ken was too +angry to think of that. The fellow he pushed fell into the arms of +the students below, the second slid out of sight, and the third, who +had started the fray, plunged with a crash into the pit. + +The freshmen greeted this with a wild yell; the sophomores answered +likewise. Like climbing, tumbling apes the two classes spilled +themselves up and down the benches, and those nearest Ken laid hold +of him, pulling him in opposite directions. + +Then began a fierce fight for possession of luckless Ken. Both sides +were linked together by gripping hands. Ken was absolutely powerless. +His clothes were torn to tatters in a twinkling; they were soon torn +completely off, leaving only his shoes and socks. Not only was he in +danger of being seriously injured, but students of both sides were +handled as fiercely. A heavy trampling roar shook the amphitheatre. +As they surged up and down the steep room benches were split. In the +beginning the sophomores had the advantage and the tug-of-war raged +near the pit and all about it. But the superior numbers of the freshmen +began to tell. The web of close-locked bodies slowly mounted up the room, +smashing the benches, swaying downward now and then, yet irresistibly +gaining ground. The yells of the freshmen increased with the assurance +of victory. There was one more prolonged, straining struggle, then Ken +was pulled away from the sophomores. The wide, swinging doors of the +room were knocked flat to let out the stream of wild freshmen. They +howled like fiends; it was first blood for the freshman class; the +first tug won that year. + +Ken Ward came to his senses out in the corridor surrounded by an +excited, beaming, and disreputable crowd of freshmen. Badly as he +was hurt, he had to laugh. Some of them looked happy in nothing but +torn underclothes. Others resembled a lot of ragamuffins. Coats were +minus sleeves, vests were split, shirts were collarless. Blood and +bruises were much in evidence. + +Some one helped Ken into a long ulster. + +"Say, it was great," said this worthy. "Do you know who that fellow +was--the first one who tried to throw you out of number five?" + +"I haven't any idea," replied Ken. In fact, he felt that his ideas +were as scarce just then as his clothes. + +"That was the president of the Sophs. He's the varsity baseball +captain, too. You slugged him!... Great!" + +Ken's spirit, low as it was, sank still lower. What miserable luck +he had! His one great ambition, next to getting his diploma, had +been to make the varsity baseball team. + + + + +II + +A GREAT ARM + + +The shock of that battle, more than the bruising he had received, +confined Ken to his room for a week. When he emerged it was to find +he was a marked man; marked by the freshmen with a great and friendly +distinction; by the sophomores for revenge. If it had not been for +the loss of his baseball hopes, he would have welcomed the chance to +become popular with his classmates. But for him it was not pleasant +to be reminded that he had "slugged" the Sophs' most honored member. + +It took only two or three meetings with the revengeful sophomores to +teach Ken that discretion was the better part of valor. He learned +that the sophomores of all departments were looking for him with +deadly intent. So far luck had enabled him to escape all but a wordy +bullying. Ken became an expert at dodging. He gave the corridors and +campus a wide berth. He relinquished his desire to live in one of the +dormitories, and rented a room out in the city. He timed his arrival +at the university and his departure. His movements were governed +entirely by painfully acquired knowledge of the whereabouts of his +enemies. + +So for weeks Ken Ward lived like a recluse. He was not one with his +college mates. He felt that he was not the only freshman who had +gotten a bad start in college. Sometimes when he sat near a sad-faced +classmate, he knew instinctively that here was a fellow equally in +need of friendship. Still these freshmen were as backward as he was, +and nothing ever came of such feelings. + +The days flew by and the weeks made months, and all Ken did was attend +lectures and study. He read everything he could find in the library +that had any bearing on forestry. He mastered his text-books before the +Christmas holidays. About the vacation he had long been undecided; at +length he made up his mind not to go home. It was a hard decision to +reach. But his college life so far had been a disappointment; he was +bitter about it, and he did not want his father to know. Judge Ward +was a graduate of the university. Often and long he had talked to Ken +about university life, the lasting benefit of associations and +friendships. He would probably think that his son had barred himself +out by some reckless or foolish act. Ken was not sure what was to +blame; he knew he had fallen in his own estimation, and that the less +he thought of himself the more he hated the Sophs. + +On Christmas day he went to Carlton Hall. It was a chance he did not +want to miss, for very few students would be there. As it turned out +he spent some pleasant hours. But before he left the club his steps +led him into the athletic trophy room, and there he was plunged into +grief. The place was all ablaze with flags and pennants, silver cups +and gold medals, pictures of teams and individuals. There were mounted +sculls and oars, footballs and baseballs. The long and proud record +of the university was there to be read. All her famous athletes were +pictured there, and every one who had fought for his college. Ken +realized that here for the first time he was in the atmosphere of +college spirit for which the university was famed. What would he not +have given for a permanent place in that gallery! But it was too late. +He had humiliated the captain of the baseball team. Ken sought out the +picture of the last season's varsity. What a stocky lot of young chaps, +all consciously proud of the big letter on their shirts! Dale, the +captain and pitcher, was in the centre of the group. Ken knew his +record, and it was a splendid one. Ken took another look at Dale, +another at the famous trainer, Murray, and the professional coach, +Arthurs--men under whom it had been his dream to play--and then he +left the room, broken-hearted. + +When the Christmas recess was over he went back to his lectures resigned +to the thought that the athletic side of college life was not for him. +He studied harder than ever, and even planned to take a course of lectures +in another department. Also his adeptness in dodging was called upon more +and more. The Sophs were bound to get him sooner or later. But he did not +grow resigned to that; every dodge and flight increased his resentment. +Presently he knew he would stop and take what they had to give, and +retaliate as best he could. Only, what would they do to him when they +did catch him? He remembered his watch, his money, and clothes, never +recovered after that memorable tug-of-war. He minded the loss of his +watch most; that gift could never be replaced. It seemed to him that +he had been the greater sufferer. + +One Saturday in January Ken hurried from his class-room. He was always +in a hurry and particularly on Saturdays, for that being a short day +for most of the departments, there were usually many students passing +to and fro. A runaway team clattering down the avenue distracted him +from his usual caution, and he cut across the campus. Some one stopped +the horses, and a crowd collected. When Ken got there many students +were turning away. Ken came face to face with a tall, bronze-haired, +freckle-faced sophomore, whom he had dodged more than once. There was +now no use to dodge; he had to run or stand his ground. + +"Boys, here's that slugging Freshie!" yelled the Soph. "We've got +him now." + +He might have been an Indian chief so wild was the whoop that +answered him. + +"Lead us to him!" + +"Oh, what we won't do to that Freshie!" + +"Come on, boys!" + +Ken heard these yells, saw a number of boys dash at him, then he broke +and ran as if for his life. The Sophs, a dozen strong, yelling loudly, +strung out after him. Ken headed across the campus. He was fleet of +foot, and gained on his pursuers. But the yells brought more Sophs on +the scene, and they turned Ken to the right. He spurted for Carlton Hall, +and almost ran into the arms of still more sophomores. Turning tail, +he fled toward the library. When he looked back it was to see the +bronze-haired leader within a hundred yards, and back of him a long +line of shouting students. + +If there was a place to hide round that library Ken could not find it. +In this circuit he lost ground. Moreover, he discovered he had not used +good judgment in choosing that direction. All along the campus was a +high iron fence. Ken thought desperately hard for an instant, then with +renewed speed he bounded straight for College Hall. + +This was the stronghold of the sophomores. As Ken sped up the gravel +walk his pursuers split their throats. + +"Run, you Freshie!" yelled one. + +"The more you run--" yelled another. + +"The more we'll skin you!" finished a third. + +Ken ran into the passageway leading through College Hall. + +It was full of Sophs hurrying toward the door to see where the yells +came from. When Ken plunged into their midst some one recognized him +and burst out with the intelligence. At the same moment Ken's pursuers +banged through the swinging doors. + +A yell arose then in the constricted passageway that seemed to Ken to +raise College Hall from its foundation. It terrified him. Like an eel +he slipped through reaching arms and darted forward. Ken was heavy and +fast on his feet, and with fear lending him wings he made a run through +College Hall that would have been a delight to the football coach. For +Ken was not dodging any sophomores now. He had played his humiliating +part of dodger long enough. He knocked them right and left, and many a +surprised Soph he tumbled over. Reaching the farther door, he went +through out into the open. + +The path before him was clear now, and he made straight for the avenue. +It was several hundred yards distant, and he got a good start toward it +before the Sophs rolled like a roaring stream from the passage. Ken saw +other students running, and also men and boys out on the avenue; but +as they could not head him off he kept to his course. On that side of +the campus a high, narrow stairway, lined by railings, led up to the +sidewalk. When Ken reached it he found the steps covered with ice. He +slipped and fell three times in the ascent, while his frantic pursuers +gained rapidly. + +Ken mounted to the sidewalk, gave vent to a gasp of relief, and, +wheeling sharply, he stumbled over two boys carrying a bushel basket +of potatoes. When he saw the large, round potatoes a daring inspiration +flashed into his mind. Taking the basket from the boys he turned to the +head of the stairway. + +The bronze-haired Soph was half-way up the steps. His followers, twelve +or more, were climbing after him. Then a line of others stretched all +the way to College Hall. + +With a grim certainty of his mastery of the situation Ken threw a huge +potato at his leading pursuer. Fair and square on the bronze head it +struck with a sharp crack. Like a tenpin the Soph went down. He plumped +into the next two fellows, knocking them off their slippery footing. +The three fell helplessly and piled up their comrades in a dense wedge +half-way down the steps. If the Sophs had been yelling before, it was +strange to note how they were yelling now. + +Deliberately Ken fired the heavy missiles. They struck with sodden +thuds against the bodies of the struggling sophomores. A poor thrower +could not very well have missed that mark, and Ken Ward was remarkably +accurate. He had a powerful overhand swing, and the potatoes flew like +bullets. One wild-eyed Soph slipped out of the tangle to leap up the +steps. Ken, throwing rather low, hit him on the shin. He buckled and +dropped down with a blood-curdling yell. Another shook himself loose +and faced upward. A better-aimed shot took him in the shoulder. He gave +an exhibition of a high and lofty somersault. Then two more started up +abreast. The first Ken hit over the eye with a very small potato, which +popped like an explosive bullet and flew into bits. As far as effect +was concerned a Martini could not have caused a more beautiful fall. +Ken landed on the second fellow in the pit of the stomach with a very +large potato. There was a sound as of a suddenly struck bass-drum. +The Soph crumpled up over the railing, slid down, and fell among his +comrades, effectually blocking the stairway. + +For the moment Ken had stopped the advance. The sophomores had been +checked by one wild freshman. There was scarcely any doubt about Ken's +wildness. He had lost his hat; his dishevelled hair stood up like a +mane; every time he hurled a potato he yelled. But there was nothing +wild about his aim. + +All at once he turned his battery on the students gathering below +the crush, trying to find a way through the kicking, slipping mass +on the narrow stairs. He scattered them as if they had been quail. +Some ran out of range. Others dove for cover and tried to dodge. +This dodging brought gleeful howls from Ken. + +"Dodge, you Indian!" yelled Ken, as he threw. And seldom it was that +dodging was of any use. Then, coming to the end of his ammunition, +he surveyed the battle-field beneath him and, turning, ran across +the avenue and down a street. At the corner of the block he looked +back. There was one man coming, but he did not look like a student. +So Ken slackened his pace and bent his steps toward his boarding-house. + +"By George! I stole those potatoes!" he exclaimed, presently. "I wonder +how I can make that good." + +Several times as he turned to look over his shoulder he saw the man he +had noticed at first. But that did not trouble him, for he was sure no +one else was following him. Ken reached his room exhausted by exertion +and excitement. He flung himself upon his bed to rest and calm his mind +so that he could think. If he had been in a bad light before, what was +his position now? Beyond all reasoning with, however, was the spirit +that gloried in his last stand. + +"By George!" he kept saying. "I wouldn't have missed that--not +for anything. They made my life a nightmare. I'll have to leave +college--go somewhere else--but I don't care." + +Later, after dinner as he sat reading, he heard a door-bell ring, a +man's voice, then footsteps in the hall. Some one tapped on his door. +Ken felt a strange, cold sensation, which soon passed, and he spoke: + +"Come in." + +The door opened to admit a short man with little, bright eyes sharp +as knives. + +"Hello, Kid," he said. Then he leisurely removed his hat and overcoat +and laid them on the bed. + +Ken's fear of he knew not what changed to amazement. At least his +visitor did not belong to the faculty. There was something familiar +about the man, yet Ken could not place him. + +"Well up in your studies?" he asked, cordially. Then he seated himself, +put a hand on each knee, and deliberately and curiously studied Ken. + +"Why, yes, pretty well up," replied Ken. He did not know how to take +the man. There was a kindliness about him which relieved Ken, yet there +was also a hard scrutiny that was embarrassing. + +"All by your lonely here," he said. + +"It is lonely," replied Ken, "but--but I don't get on very well with +the students." + +"Small wonder. Most of 'em are crazy." + +He was unmistakably friendly. Ken kept wondering where he had seen him. +Presently the man arose, and, with a wide smile on his face, reached +over and grasped Ken's right arm. + +"How's the whip?" + +"What?" asked Ken. + +"The wing--your arm, Kid, your arm." + +"Oh--Why, it's all right." + +"It's not sore--not after peggin' a bushel of potatoes on a cold day?" + +Ken laughed and raised his arm up and down. "It's weak to-night, but +not sore." + +"These boys with their India-rubber arms! It's youth, Kid, it's youth. +Say, how old are you?" + +"Sixteen." + +"What! No more than that?" + +"No." + +"How much do you weigh?" + +"About one hundred and fifty-six." + +"I thought you had some beef back of that stunt of yours to-day. Say, +Kid, it was the funniest and the best thing I've seen at the university +in ten years--and I've seen some fresh boys do some stunts, I have. +Well... Kid, you've a grand whip--a great arm--and we're goin' to do +some stunts with it." + +Ken felt something keen and significant in the very air. + +"A great arm! For what?... who are you?" + +"Say, I thought every boy in college knew me. I'm Arthurs." + +"The baseball coach! Are you the baseball coach?" exclaimed Ken, +jumping up with his heart in his throat. + +"That's me, my boy; and I'm lookin' you up." + +Ken suddenly choked with thronging emotions and sat down as limp as +a rag. + +"Yes, Kid, I'm after you strong. The way you pegged 'em to-day got me. +You've a great arm!" + + + + +III + +PRISONER OF THE SOPHS + + +"But if--it's really true--that I've a great arm," faltered Ken, +"it won't ever do me any good. I could never get on the varsity." + +"Why not?" demanded the coach. "I'll make a star of a youngster like +you, if you'll take coachin'. Why not?" + +"Oh, you don't know," returned Ken, with a long face. + +"Say, you haven't struck me as a kid with no nerve. What's wrong +with you?" + +"It was I who slugged Captain Dale and caused that big rush between +the freshmen and sophomores. I've lived like a hermit ever since." + +"So it was you who hit Dale. Well--that's bad," replied Arthurs. +He got up with sober face and began to walk the floor. "I remember +the eye he had. It was a sight.... But Dale's a good fellow. He'll--" + +"I'd do anything on earth to make up for that," burst out Ken. + +"Good! I'll tell you what we'll do," said Arthurs, his face brightening. +"We'll go right down to Dale's room now. I'll fix it up with him somehow. +The sooner the better. I'm goin' to call the baseball candidates to the +cage soon." + +They put on coats and hats and went out. Evidently the coach was thinking +hard, for he had nothing to say, but he kept a reassuring hand on Ken's +arm. They crossed the campus along the very path where Ken had fled from +the sophomores. The great circle of dormitories loomed up beyond with +lights shining in many windows. Arthurs led Ken through a court-yard and +into a wide, bright hallway. Their steps sounded with hollow click upon +the tiled floor. They climbed three flights of stairs, and then Arthurs +knocked at a door. Ken's heart palpitated. It was all so sudden; he did +not know what he was going to say or do. He did not care what happened +to him if Arthurs could only, somehow, put him right with the captain. + +A merry voice bade them enter. The coach opened the door and led Ken +across the threshold. Ken felt the glow of a warm, bright room, colorful +with pennants and posters, and cozy in its disorder. Then he saw Dale +and, behind him, several other students. There was a moment's silence in +which Ken heard his heart beat. + +Dale rose slowly from his seat, the look on his frank face changing +from welcome to intense amazement and then wild elation. + +"Whoop!" he shouted. "Lock the door! Worry Arthurs, this's your best +bet ever!" + +Dale dashed at the coach, hugged him frantically, then put his +head out of the door to bawl: "Sophs! Sophs! Sophs! Hurry call! +Number nine!... Oh, my!" + +Then he faced about, holding the door partially open. He positively +beamed upon the coach. + +"Say, Cap, what's eatin' you?" asked Arthurs. He looked dumfounded. +Ken hung to him desperately; he thought he knew what was coming. There +were hurried footsteps in the corridor and excited voices. + +"Worry, it's bully of you to bring this freshman here," declared the +captain. + +"Well, what of it?" demanded the coach. "I looked him up to-night. +He's got a great arm, and will be good material for the team. He told +me about the little scrap you had in the lecture-room. He lost his +temper, and no wonder. Anyway, he's sorry, Cap, and I fetched him +around to see if you couldn't make it up. How about it, Kid?" + +"I'm sorry--awfully sorry, Captain Dale," blurted out Ken. "I was mad +and scared, too--then you fellows hurt me. So I hit right out.... But +I'll take my medicine." + +"So--oh!" ejaculated Dale. "Well, this beats the deuce! _That's_ why +you're here?" + +The door opened wide to admit half a dozen eager-faced youths. + +"Fellows, here's a surprise," said Dale. "Young Ward, the freshman! +the elusive slugging freshman, fast on his feet, and, as Worry here +says, a lad with a great arm!" + +"WARD!" roared the Sophs in unison. + +"Hold on, fellows--wait--no rough-house yet--wait," ordered Dale. +"Ward's here of his own free will!" + +Silence ensued after the captain spoke. While he turned to lock the +door the Sophs stared open-mouthed at Ken. Arthurs had a worried look, +and he kept his hand on Ken. Dale went to a table and began filling his +pipe. Then he fixed sharp, thoughtful eyes upon his visitors. + +"Worry, you say you brought this freshman here to talk baseball?" he asked. + +"Sure I did," blustered Arthurs. It was plain now where he got the name +that Dale called him. "What's in the wind, anyhow?" + +Dale then gravely spoke to Ken. "So you came here to see me? Sorry +you slugged me once? Want to make up for it somehow, because you think +you've a chance for the team, and don't want me to be sore on you? +That it?" + +"Not exactly," replied Ken. "I'd want to let you get square with me even +if you weren't the varsity captain." + +"Well, you've more than squared yourself with me--by coming here. You'll +realize that presently. But don't you know what's happened, what the +freshmen have done?" + +"No; I don't." + +"You haven't been near the university since this afternoon when you +pulled off the potato stunt?" + +"I should say I haven't." + +This brought a laugh from the Sophs. + +"You were pretty wise," went on Dale. "The Sophs didn't love you then. +But they're going to--understand?" + +Ken shook his head, too bewildered and mystified to reply. + +"Well, now, here's Giraffe Boswick. Look what you did to him!" + +Ken's glance followed the wave of Dale's hand and took in the tall, +bronze-haired sophomore who had led the chase that afternoon. Boswick +wore a huge discolored bruise over his left eye. It was hideous. Ken +was further sickened to recollect that Boswick was one of the varsity +pitchers. But the fellow was smiling amiably at Ken, as amiably as +one eye would permit. The plot thickened about Ken. He felt his legs +trembling under him. + +"Boswick, you forgive Ward, don't you--now?" continued Dale, with +a smile. + +"With all my heart!" exclaimed the pitcher. "To see him here would make +me forgive anything." + +Coach Arthurs was ill at ease. He evidently knew students, and he did +not relish the mystery, the hidden meaning. + +"Say, you wise guys make me sick," he called out, gruffly. "Here's a +kid that comes right among you. He's on the level, and more'n that, +he's game! Now, Cap, I fetched him here, and I won't stand for a whole +lot. Get up on your toes! Get it over!" + +"Sit down Worry, here's a cigar--light up," said Dale, soothingly. +"It's all coming right, lovely, I say. Ward was game to hunt me up, +a thousand times gamer than he knows.... See here, Ward, where are +you from?" + +"I live a good long day's travel from the university," answered Ken, +evasively. + +"I thought so. Did you ever hear of the bowl-fight, the great event +of the year here at Wayne University?" + +"Yes, I've heard--read a little about it. But I don't know what it is." + +"I'll tell you," went on Dale. "There are a number of yearly rushes and +scrapes between the freshmen and sophomores, but the bowl-fight is the +one big meeting, the time-honored event. It has been celebrated here for +many years. It takes place on a fixed date. Briefly, here's what comes +off: The freshmen have the bowl in their keeping this year because they +won it in the last fight. They are to select one of their number, always +a scrappy fellow, and one honored by the class, and they call him the +bowl-man. A week before the fight, on a certain date, the freshmen hide +this bowl-man or protect him from the sophomores until the day of the +fight, when they all march to Grant field in fighting-togs. Should the +sophomores chance to find him and hold him prisoner until after the date +of the bowl-fight they win the bowl. The same applies also in case the +bowl is in possession of the sophomores. But for ten years neither class +has captured the other's bowl-man. So they have fought it out on the +field until the bowl was won." + +"Well, what has all that got to do with me?" asked Ken. He felt curiously +light-headed. + +"It has a _little_ to do with you--hasn't it, fellows?" said Dale, in +slow, tantalizing voice. + +Worry Arthurs lost his worried look and began to smile and rub his hands. + +"Ward, look here," added Dale, now speaking sharply. "You've been picked +for the bowl-man!" + +"Me--me?" stammered Ken. + +"No other. The freshmen were late in choosing a man this year. To-day, +after your stunt--holding up that bunch of sophomores--they had a meeting +in Carlton Club and picked you. Most of them didn't even know your name. +I'll bet the whole freshman class is hunting for you right now." + +"What for?" queried Ken, weakly. + +"Why, I told you. The bowl-fight is only a week off--and here you are. +_And here you'll stay until that date's past!_" + +Ken drew a quick breath. He began to comprehend. The sudden huzzahs of +Dale's companions gave him further enlightenment. + +"But, Captain Dale," he said, breathlessly, "if it's so--if my class +has picked me--I can't throw them down. I don't know a soul in my +class. I haven't a friend. But I won't throw them down--not to be +forever free of dodging Sophs--not even to square myself with you." + +"Ward, you're all right!" shouted Dale, his eyes shining. + +In the quiet moment that followed, with all the sophomores watching him +intently, Ken Ward instinctively felt that his measure had been taken. + +"I won't stay here," said Ken, and for the first time his voice rang. + +"Oh yes, you will," replied Dale, laughing. + +Quick as a cat Ken leaped for the door and got it unlocked and half open +before some one clutched him. Then Dale was on him close and hard. Ken +began to struggle. He was all muscle, and twice he broke from them. + +"His legs! Grab his legs! He's a young bull!" + +"We'll trim you now, Freshie!" + +"You potato-masher!" + +"Go for his wind!" + +Fighting and wrestling with all his might Ken went down under a half +dozen sophomores. Then Dale was astride his chest, and others were +sitting on his hands and feet. + +"Boys, don't hurt that arm!" yelled Worry Arthurs. + +"Ward, will you be good now and stop scrapping or shall we tie you?" +asked Dale. "You can't get away. The thing to do is to give your word +not to try. We want to make this easy for you. Your word of honor, now?" + +"Never!" cried Ken. + +"I knew you wouldn't," said Dale. "We'll have to keep you under guard." + +They let him get up. He was panting, and his nose was bleeding, and one +of his knuckles was skinned. That short struggle had been no joke. The +Sophs certainly meant to keep him prisoner. Still, he was made to feel +at ease. They could not do enough for him. + +"It's tough luck, Ward, that you should have fallen into our hands this +way," said Dale. "But you couldn't help it. You will be kept in my rooms +until after the fifteenth. Meals will be brought you, and your books; +everything will be done for your comfort. Your whereabouts, of course, +will be a secret, and you will be closely watched. Worry, remember you +are bound to silence. And Ward, perhaps it wasn't an ill wind that blew +you here. You've had your last scrap with a Soph, that's sure. As for +what brought you here--it's more than square; and I'll say this: if you +can play ball as well as you can scrap, old Wayne has got a star." + + + + +IV + +THE CALL FOR CANDIDATES + + +There were five rooms in Dale's suite in the dormitory, and three +other sophomores shared them with him. They confined Ken in the end +room, where he was safely locked and guarded from any possible chance +to escape. + +For the first day or two it was irksome for Ken; but as he and his +captors grew better acquainted the strain eased up, and Ken began to +enjoy himself as he had not since coming to the university. + +He could not have been better provided for. His books were at hand, +and even notes of the lectures he was missing were brought to him. The +college papers and magazines interested him, and finally he was much +amused by an account of his mysterious disappearance. All in a day he +found himself famous. Then Dale and his room-mates were so friendly and +jolly that if his captivity had not meant the disgrace of the freshman +class, Ken would have rejoiced in it. He began to thaw out, though he +did not lose his backwardness. The life of the great university began +to be real to him. Almost the whole sophomore class, in squads of twos +and threes and sixes, visited Dale's rooms during that week. No Soph +wanted to miss a sight of a captive bowl-man. Ken felt so callow and +fresh in their presence that he scarcely responded to their jokes. +Worry Arthur's nickname of "Kid" vied with another the coach conferred +on Ken, and that was "Peg." It was significant slang expressing the +little baseball man's baseball notion of Ken's throwing power. + +The evening was the most interesting time for Ken. There was always +something lively going on. He wondered when the boys studied. When +some of the outside students dropped in there were banjo and guitar +playing, college songs, and college gossip. + +"Come on, Peg, be a good fellow," they said, and laughed at his refusal +to smoke or drink beer. + +"Molly!" mocked one. + +"Willy-boy!" added another. + +Ken was callow, young, and backward; but he had a temper, and this +kind of banter roused it easily. The red flamed into his cheeks. + +"I promised my mother I wouldn't smoke or drink or gamble while I +was in college," he retorted, struggling with shame and anger. +"And I--I won't." + +Dale stopped the good-natured chaff. "Fellows, stop guying Ward; +cut it out, I tell you. He's only a kid freshman, but he's liable +to hand you a punch, and if he does you'll remember it. Besides, +he's right.... Look here, Ward, you stick to that promise. It's a +good promise to stick to, and if you're going in for athletics it's +the best ever." + +Worry Arthurs happened to be present on this evening, and he seconded +Dale in more forceful speech. "There's too much boozin' and smokin' +of them coffin nails goin' on in this college. It's none of my affair +except with the boys I'm coachin', and if I ketch any one breakin' my +rules after we go to the trainin'-table he'll sit on the bench. There's +Murray; why, he says there are fellows in college who could break records +if they'd train. Half of sprintin' or baseball or football is condition." + +"Oh, Worry, you and Mac always make a long face over things. Wayne has +won a few championships, hasn't she?" + +"The varsity ball team will be a frost this year, that's sure," +replied Arthurs, gloomily. + +"How do you make that out?" demanded Dale, plainly nettled. "You've +hinted it before to me. Why won't we be stronger than last season? +Didn't we have a crackerjack team, the fastest that ever represented +old Wayne? Didn't we smother the small college teams and beat Place +twice, shut out Herne the first game, and play for a tie the second?" + +"You'll see, all right, all right," replied Arthurs, gloomier than ever; +and he took his hat and went out. + +Dale slammed his cards down on the table. + +"Fellows, is it any wonder we call him Worry? Already he's begun to +fuss over the team. Ever since he's been here he has driven the baseball +captains and managers crazy. It's only his way, but it's so irritating. +He's a magnificent coach, and Wayne owes her great baseball teams to him. +But he's hard on captains. I see my troubles. The idea of this year's +team being a frost--with all the old stars back in college--with only +two positions to fill! And there are half a dozen cracks in college to +fight for these two positions--fellows I played against on the summer +nines last year. Worry's idea is ridiculous." + +This bit of baseball talk showed Ken the obstacles in the way of a +freshman making the varsity team. What a small chance there would be +for him! Still he got a good deal of comfort out of Arthurs' interest +in him, and felt that he would be happy to play substitute this season, +and make the varsity in his sophomore year. + +The day of the bowl-fight passed, and Ken's captivity became history. The +biggest honor of the sophomore year went to Dale and his room-mates. Ken +returned to his department, where he was made much of, as he had brought +fame to a new and small branch of the great university. It was a pleasure +to walk the campus without fear of being pounced upon. Ken's dodging and +loneliness--perhaps necessary and curbing nightmares in the life of a +freshman--were things of the past. He made acquaintances, slowly lost +his backwardness, and presently found college life opening to him bright +and beautiful. Ken felt strongly about things. And as his self-enforced +exile had been lonely and bitter, so now his feeling that he was really +a part of the great university seemed almost too good to be true. He +began to get a glimmering of the meaning of his father's love for the +old college. Students and professors underwent some vague change in his +mind. He could not tell what, he did not think much about it, but there +was a warmer touch, a sense of something nearer to him. + +Then suddenly a blow fell upon the whole undergraduate body. It was a +thunderbolt. It affected every student, but Ken imagined it concerned +his own college fortunes more intimately. The athletic faculty barred +every member of the varsity baseball team! The year before the faculty +had advised and requested the players not to become members of the +summer baseball nines. Their wishes had not been heeded. Captain Dale +and his fast players had been much in demand by the famous summer nines. +Some of them went to the Orange Athletic Club, others to Richfield Springs, +others to Cape May, and Dale himself had captained the Atlantic City team. + +The action of the faculty was commended by the college magazine. +Even the students, though chafing under it, could not but acknowledge +its justice. The other universities had adopted such a rule, and Wayne +must fall in line. The objections to summer ball-playing were not few, +and the particular one was that it affected the amateur standing of +the college player. He became open to charges of professionalism. At +least, all his expenses were paid, and it was charged that usually he +was paid for his services. + +Ken's first feeling when he learned this news was one of blank dismay. +The great varsity team wiped off the slate! How Place and Herne would +humble old Wayne this year! Then the long, hard schedule, embracing +thirty games, at least one with every good team in the East--how would +an untried green team fare against that formidable array? Then Ken +suddenly felt ashamed of a selfish glee, for he was now sure of a place +on the varsity. + +For several days nothing else was talked about by the students. Whenever +Dale or his players appeared at Carlton Hall they were at once surrounded +by a sympathetic crowd. If it was a bitter blow to the undergraduates, +what was it to the members of the varsity? Their feeling showed in pale, +stern faces. It was reported about the campus that Murray and Arthurs +and Dale, with the whole team, went to the directors of the athletic +faculty and besought them to change or modify the decision. Both the +trainer and the coach, who had brought such glory to the university, +threatened to resign their places. The disgrace of a pitiably weak +team of freshmen being annihilated by minor colleges was eloquently +put before the directors. But the decision was final. + +One evening early in February Worry Arthurs called upon Ken. His face +was long, and his mustache drooped. + +"Kid, what do you think of 'em fat-heads on the faculty queerin' my +team?" he asked. "Best team I ever developed. Say, but the way they +could work the hit-and-run game! Any man on the team could hit to +right field when there was a runner goin' down from first." + +"Maybe things will turn out all right," suggested Ken, hopefully. + +Worry regarded his youthful sympathizer with scorn. + +"It takes two years to teach most college kids the rudiments of baseball. +Look at this year's schedule." Worry produced a card and waved it at Ken. +"The hardest schedule Wayne ever had! And I've got to play a kid team." + +Ken was afraid to utter any more of his hopes, and indeed he felt them +to be visionary. + +"The call for candidates goes out to-morrow," went on the coach. "I'll +bet there'll be a mob at the cage. Every fool kid in the university will +think he's sure of a place. Now, Ward, what have you played?" + +"Everywhere; but infield mostly." + +"Every kid has played the whole game. What position have you played most?" + +"Third base." + +"Good! You've the arm for that. Well, I'm anxious to see you work, +but don't exert yourself in the cage. This is a tip. See! I'll be +busy weedin' out the bunch, and won't have time until we get out on +the field. You can run around the track every day, get your wind and +your legs right, hold in on your arm. The cage is cold. I've seen many +a good wing go to the bad there. But your chance looks good. College +baseball is different from any other kind. You might say it's played +with the heart. I've seen youngsters go in through grit and spirit, +love of playin' for their college, and beat out fellows who were their +superiors physically. Well, good-night.... Say, there's one more thing. +I forgot it. Are you up in your subjects?" + +"I surely am," replied Ken. "I've had four months of nothing but study." + +"The reason I ask is this: That faculty has made another rule, the +one-year residence rule, they call it. You have to pass your exams, +get your first year over, before you can represent any athletic club. +So, in case I can use you on the team, you would have to go up for your +exams two months or more ahead of time. That scare you?" + +"Not a bit. I could pass mine right now," answered Ken, confidently. + +"Kid, you and me are goin' to get along.... Well, good-night, and don't +forget what I said." + +Ken was too full for utterance; he could scarcely mumble good-night to +the coach. He ran up-stairs three steps to the jump, and when he reached +his room he did a war dance and ended by standing on his head. When he +had gotten rid of his exuberance he sat down at once to write to his +brother Hal about it, and also his forest-ranger friend, Dick Leslie, +with whom he had spent an adventurous time the last summer. + +At Carlton Hall, next day, Ken saw a crowd of students before +the bulletin-board and, edging in, he read the following notice: + + + BASEBALL! + + CALL FOR CANDIDATES FOR THE VARSITY BASEBALL TEAM + + The Athletic Directors of the University earnestly + request every student who can play ball, or who + thinks he can, to present himself to Coach Arthurs + at the Cage on Feb. 3rd. + + There will be no freshman team this year, and a + new team entirely will be chosen for the varsity. + Every student will have a chance. Applicants are + requested to familiarize themselves with the new + eligibility rules. + + + + +V + +THE CAGE + + +Ken Ward dug down into his trunk for his old baseball suit and donned +it with strange elation. It was dirty and torn, and the shoes that went +with it were worn out, but Ken was thinking of what hard ball-playing +they represented. He put his overcoat on over his sweater, took up his +glove and sallied forth. + +A thin coating of ice and snow covered the streets. Winter still +whistled in the air. To Ken in his eagerness spring seemed a long +way off. On his way across the campus he saw strings of uniformed +boys making for Grant Field, and many wearing sweaters over their +every-day clothes. The cage was situated at one end of the field +apart from the other training-quarters. When Ken got there he found +a mob of players crowding to enter the door of the big barn-like +structure. Others were hurrying away. Near the door a man was taking +up tickets like a doorkeeper of a circus, and he kept shouting: +"Get your certificates from the doctor. Every player must pass a +physical examination. Get your certificates." + +Ken turned somewhat in disgust at so much red tape and he jostled into +a little fellow, almost knocking him over. + +"Wull! Why don't you fall all over me?" growled this amiable individual. +"For two cents I'd hand you one." + +The apology on Ken's lips seemed to halt of its own accord. + +"Sorry I haven't any change in these clothes," returned Ken. He saw a +wiry chap, older than he was, but much smaller, and of most aggressive +front. He had round staring eyes, a protruding jaw, and his mouth turned +down at the corners. He wore a disreputable uniform and a small green +cap over one ear. + +"Aw! don't get funny!" he replied. + +Ken moved away muttering to himself: "That fellow's a grouch." Much +to his amazement, when he got to the training-house, Ken found that he +could not get inside because so many players were there ahead of him. +After waiting an hour or more he decided he could not have his physical +examination at that time, and he went back to the cage. The wide door +was still blocked with players, but at the other end of the building +Ken found an entrance. He squeezed into a crowd of students and worked +forward until stopped by a railing. + +Ken was all eyes and breathless with interest. The cage was a huge, +open, airy room, lighted by many windows, and, with the exception +of the platform where he stood, it was entirely enclosed by heavy +netting. The floor was of bare ground well raked and loosened to +make it soft. This immense hall was full of a motley crowd of +aspiring ball-players. + +Worry Arthurs, with his head sunk in the collar of his overcoat, and +his shoulders hunched up as if he was about to spring upon something, +paced up and down the rear end of the cage. Behind him a hundred or +more players in line slowly marched toward the slab of rubber which +marked the batting position. Ken remembered that the celebrated coach +always tried out new players at the bat first. It was his belief that +batting won games. + +"Bunt one and hit one!" he yelled to the batters. + +From the pitcher's box a lanky individual was trying to locate the +plate. Ken did not need a second glance to see that this fellow was +no pitcher. + +"Stop posin', and pitch!" yelled Arthurs. + +One by one the batters faced the plate, swung valiantly or wildly at +balls and essayed bunts. Few hit the ball out and none made a creditable +bunt. After their turn at bat they were ordered to the other end of the +cage, where they fell over one another trying to stop the balls that +were hit. Every few moments the coach would yell for one of them, any +one, to take a turn at pitching. Ken noticed that Arthurs gave a sharp +glance at each new batter, and one appeared to be sufficient. More and +more ambitious players crowded into the cage, until there were so many +that batted balls rarely missed hitting some one. + +Presently Ken Ward awoke from his thrilling absorption in the scene to +note another side of it. The students around him were making game of +the players. + +"What a bunch!" + +"Look at that fuzzy gosling with the yellow pants!" + +"Keep your shanks out of the way, Freshie!" + +"Couldn't hit a balloon!" + +Whenever a batter hit a ball into the crowd of dodging players down +the cage these students howled with glee. Ken discovered that he was +standing near Captain Dale and other members of the barred varsity. + +"Say, Dale, how do the candidates shape up?" asked a student. + +"This is a disgrace to Wayne," declared Dale, bitterly. "I never saw +such a mob of spindle-legged kids in my life. Look at them! Scared to +death! That fellow never swung at a ball before--that one never heard +of a bunt--they throw like girls--Oh! this is sickening, fellows. I see +where Worry goes to his grave this year and old Wayne gets humbled by +one-horse colleges." + +Ken took one surprised glance at the captain he had admired so much +and then he slipped farther over in the crowd. Perhaps Dale had spoken +truth, yet somehow it jarred upon Ken's sensitive nature. The thing +that affected Ken most was the earnestness of the uniformed boys trying +their best to do well before the great coach. Some were timid, uncertain; +others were rash and over-zealous. Many a ball cracked off a player's +knee or wrist, and more than once Ken saw a bloody finger. It was cold +in the cage. Even an ordinarily hit ball must have stung the hands, +and the way a hard grounder cracked was enough to excite sympathy among +those scornful spectators, if nothing more. But they yelled in delight +at every fumble, at everything that happened. Ken kept whispering to +himself: "I can't see the fun in it. I can't!" + +Arthurs dispensed with the bunting and ordered one hit each for +the batters. "Step up and hit!" he ordered, hoarsely. "Don't be +afraid--never mind that crowd--step into the ball and swing natural.... +Next! Hurry, boys!" + +Suddenly a deep-chested student yelled out with a voice that drowned +every other sound. + +"Hard luck, Worry! No use! You'll never find a hitter among those misfits!" + +The coach actually leaped up in his anger and his face went from crimson +to white. Ken thought it was likely that he recognized the voice. + +"You knocker! You knocker!" he cried. "That's a fine college spirit, +ain't it? You're a fine lot of students, I don't think. Now shut up, +every one of you, or I'll fire you out of the cage.... And right here +at the start you knockers take this from me--I'll find more than one +hitter among those kids!" + +A little silence fell while the coach faced that antagonistic crowd +of spectators. Ken was amazed the second time, and now because of the +intensity of feeling that seemed to hang in the air. Ken felt a warm +rush go over him, and that moment added greatly to his already strong +liking for Worry Arthurs. + +Then the coach turned to his work, the batting began again, and the +crack of the ball, the rush of feet, the sharp cries of the players +mingled once more with the laughter and caustic wit of the unsympathetic +audience. + +Ken Ward went back to his room without having removed his overcoat. +He was thoughtful that night and rebellious against the attitude of +the student body. A morning paper announced the fact that over three +hundred candidates had presented themselves to Coach Arthurs. It went +on to say that the baseball material represented was not worth considering +and that old Wayne's varsity team must be ranked with those of the +fifth-rate colleges. This, following Ken's experience at the cage on +the first day, made him angry and then depressed. The glamour of the +thing seemed to fade away. Ken lost the glow, the exhilaration of his +first feelings. Everybody took a hopeless view of Wayne's baseball +prospects. Ken Ward, however, was not one to stay discouraged long, +and when he came out of his gloom it was with his fighting spirit +roused. Once and for all he made up his mind to work heart and soul +for his college, to be loyal to Arthurs, to hope and believe in the +future of the new varsity, whether or not he was lucky enough to win +a place upon it. + +Next day, going early to the training-quarters, he took his place +in a squad waiting for the physical examination. It was a wearisome +experience. At length Ken's turn came with two other players, one of +whom he recognized as the sour-complexioned fellow of the day before. + +"Wull, you're pretty fresh," he said to Ken as they went in. He had a +most exasperating manner. + +"Say, I don't like you a whole lot," retorted Ken. + +Then a colored attendant ushered them into a large room in which were +several men. The boys were stripped to the waist. + +"Come here, Murray," said the doctor. "There's some use in looking +these boys over, particularly this husky youngster." + +A tall man in a white sweater towered over Ken. It was the famous +trainer. He ran his hands over Ken's smooth skin and felt of the +muscles. + +"Can you run?" he asked. + +"Yes," replied Ken. + +"Are you fast?" + +"Yes." + +Further inquiries brought from Ken his name, age, weight, that he had +never been ill, had never used tobacco or intoxicating drinks. + +"Ward, eh? 'Peg' Ward," said Murray, smiling. "Worry Arthurs has the +call on you--else, my boy, I'd whisper football in your ear. Mebbe I +will, anyhow, if you keep up in your studies. That'll do for you." + +Ken's companions also won praise from the trainer. They gave their +names as Raymond and Weir. The former weighed only one hundred and +twenty-two, but he was a knot of muscles. The other stood only five +feet, but he was very broad and heavy, his remarkably compact build +giving an impression of great strength. Both replied in the negative +to the inquiries as to use of tobacco or spirits. + +"Boys, that's what we like to hear," said the doctor. "You three ought +to pull together." + +Ken wondered what the doctor would have said if he had seen the way +these three boys glared at each other in the dressing-room. And he +wondered, too, what was the reason for such open hostility. The answer +came to him in the thought that perhaps they were both trying for the +position he wanted on the varsity. Most likely they had the same idea +about him. That was the secret of little Raymond's pugnacious front and +Weir's pompous air; and Ken realized that the same reason accounted for +his own attitude toward them. He wanted very much to tell Raymond that +he was a little grouch and Weir that he looked like a puffed-up toad. +All the same Ken was not blind to Weir's handsome appearance. The +sturdy youngster had an immense head, a great shock of bright brown +hair, flashing gray eyes, and a clear bronze skin. + +"They'll both make the team, I'll bet," thought Ken. "They look it. +I hope I don't have to buck against them." Then as they walked toward +the cage Ken forced himself to ask genially: "Raymond, what're you +trying for? And you, Weir?" + +"Wull, if it's any of your fresh business, I'm not _trying_ for any +place. I'm going to play infield. You can carry my bat," replied Raymond, +sarcastically. + +"Much obliged," retorted Ken, "I'm not going to substitute. I've a +corner on that varsity infield myself." + +Weir glanced at them with undisguised disdain. "You can save yourselves +useless work by not trying for my position. I intend to play infield." + +"Wull, puff-up, now, puff-up!" growled Raymond. + +Thus the three self-appointed stars of the varsity bandied words +among themselves as they crossed the field. At the cage door they +became separated to mingle with the pushing crowd of excited boys +in uniforms. + +By dint of much squeezing and shoulder-work Ken got inside the cage. +He joined the squad in the upper end and got in line for the batting. +Worry Arthurs paced wildly to and fro yelling for the boys to hit. A +dense crowd of students thronged the platform and laughed, jeered, and +stormed at the players. The cage was in such an uproar that Arthurs +could scarcely be heard. Watching from the line Ken saw Weir come to +bat and stand aggressively and hit the ball hard. It scattered the flock +of fielders. Then Raymond came along, and, batting left-handed, did +likewise. Arthurs stepped forward and said something to both. After +Ken's turn at bat the coach said to him: "Get out of here. Go run round +the track. Do it every day. Don't come back until Monday." + +As Ken hurried out he saw and felt the distinction with which he was +regarded by the many players whom he crowded among in passing. When +he reached the track he saw Weir, Raymond, and half a dozen other +fellows going round at a jog-trot. Weir was in the lead, setting the +pace. Ken fell in behind. + +The track was the famous quarter-mile track upon which Murray trained +his sprinters. When Ken felt the spring of the cinder-path in his feet, +the sensation of buoyancy, the eager wildfire pride that flamed over +him, he wanted to break into headlong flight. The first turn around the +track was delight; the second pleasure in his easy stride; the third +brought a realization of distance. When Ken had trotted a mile he was +not tired, he still ran easily, but he began to appreciate that his +legs were not wings. The end of the second mile found him sweating +freely and panting. + +Two miles were enough for the first day. Ken knew it and he began to +wonder why the others, especially Weir, did not know it. But Weir jogged +on, his head up, his hair flying, as if he had not yet completed his +first quarter. The other players stretched out behind him. Ken saw +Raymond's funny little green cap bobbing up and down, and it made him +angry. Why could not the grouch get a decent cap, anyway? + +At the end of the third mile Ken began to labor. His feet began to +feel weighted, his legs to ache, his side to hurt. He was wringing wet; +his skin burned; his breath whistled. But he kept doggedly on. It had +become a contest now. Ken felt instinctively that every runner would +not admit he had less staying power than the others. Ken declared to +himself that he could be as bull-headed as any of them. Still to see +Weir jogging on steady and strong put a kind of despair on Ken. For +every lap of the fourth mile a runner dropped out, and at the half of +the fifth only Weir, Raymond, and Ken kept to the track. + +Ken hung on gasping at every stride. He was afraid his heart would burst. +The pain in his side was as keen as a knife thrust. His feet were lead. +Every rod he felt must be his last, yet spurred on desperately, and +he managed to keep at the heels of the others. It might kill him, +but he would not stop until he dropped. Raymond was wagging along +ready to fall any moment, and Weir was trotting slowly with head down. +On the last lap of the fifth mile they all stopped as by one accord. +Raymond fell on the grass; Ken staggered to a bench, and Weir leaned +hard against the fence. They were all blowing like porpoises and +regarded each other as mortal enemies. Weir gazed grandly at the +other two; Raymond glowered savagely at him and then at Ken; and +Ken in turn gave them withering glances. Without a word the three +contestants for a place on the varsity then went their several ways. + + + + +VI + +OUT ON THE FIELD + + +When Ken presented himself at the cage on the following Monday it was +to find that Arthurs had weeded out all but fifty of the candidates. +Every afternoon for a week the coach put these players through batting +and sliding practice, then ordered them out to run around the track. +On the next Monday only twenty-five players were left, and as the number +narrowed down the work grew more strenuous, the rivalry keener, and the +tempers of the boys more irascible. + +Ken discovered it was work and not by any means pleasant work. He +fortified himself by the thought that the pleasure and glory, the +real play, was all to come as a reward. Worry Arthurs drove them +relentlessly. Nothing suited him; not a player knew how to hold a +bat, to stand at the plate, to slide right, or to block a ground ball. + +"Don't hit with your left hand on top--unless you're left-handed. +Don't grip the end of the bat. There! Hold steady now, step out and +into the ball, and swing clean and level. If you're afraid of bein' +hit by the ball, get out of here!" + +It was plain to Ken that not the least of Arthurs' troubles was the +incessant gibing of the students on the platform. There was always a +crowd watching the practice, noisy, scornful, abusive. They would never +recover from the shock of having that seasoned champion varsity barred +out of athletics. Every once in a while one of them would yell out: +"Wait, Worry! oh! Worry, wait till the old varsity plays your yanigans!" +And every time the coach's face would burn. But he had ceased to talk +back to the students. Besides, the athletic directors were always +present. They mingled with the candidates and talked baseball to them +and talked to Arthurs. Some of them might have played ball once, but +they did not talk like it. Their advice and interference served only +to make the coach's task harder. + +Another Monday found only twenty players in the squad. That day Arthurs +tried out catchers, pitchers, and infielders. He had them all throwing, +running, fielding, working like Trojans. They would jump at his yell, +dive after the ball, fall over it, throw it anywhere but in the right +direction, run wild, and fight among themselves. The ever-flowing +ridicule from the audience was anything but a stimulus. So much of +it coming from the varsity and their adherents kept continually in the +minds of the candidates their lack of skill, their unworthiness to +represent the great university in such a popular sport as baseball. So +that even if there were latent ability in any of the candidates no one +but the coach could see it. And often he could not conceal his disgust +and hopelessness. + +"Battin' practice!" he ordered, sharply. "Two hits and a bunt to-day. +Get a start on the bunt and dig for first. Hustle now!" + +He placed one player to pitch to the hitters, another to catch, and as +soon as the hitters had their turn they took to fielding. Two turns for +each at bat left the coach more than dissatisfied. + +"You're all afraid of the ball," he yelled. "This ain't no dodgin' game. +Duck your nut if the ball's goin' to hit you, but stop lookin' for it. +Forget it. Another turn now. I'm goin' to umpire. Let's see if you know +the difference between a ball and a strike." + +He changed the catcher and, ordering Ken to the pitcher's box, he +stepped over behind him. "Peg," he said, speaking low, "you're not +tryin' for pitcher, I know, but you've got speed and control and I +want you to peg 'em a few. Mind now, easy with your arm. By that +I mean hold in, don't whip it. And you peg 'em as near where I say +as you can; see?" + +As the players, one after another, faced the box, the coach kept saying +to Ken: "Drive that fellow away from the plate... give this one a low +ball... now straight over the pan. Say, Peg, you've got a nice ball +there... put a fast one under this fellow's chin." + +"Another turn, now, boys!" he yelled. "I tell you--_stand up to the +plate!_" Then he whispered to Ken. "Hit every one of 'em! Peg 'em now, +any place." + +"Hit them?" asked Ken, amazed. + +"That's what I said." + +"But--Mr. Arthurs--" + +"See here, Peg. Don't talk back to me. Do as I say. We'll peg a little +nerve into this bunch. Now I'll go back of the plate and make a bluff." + +Arthurs went near to the catcher's position. Then he said: "Now, +fellows, Ward's pretty wild and I've told him to speed up a few. +Stand right up and step into 'em." + +The first batter was Weir. Ken swung easily and let drive. Straight as +a string the ball sped for the batter. Like a flash he dropped flat in +the dust and the ball just grazed him. It was a narrow escape. Weir +jumped up, his face flaring, his hair on end, and he gazed hard at Ken +before picking up the bat. + +"Batter up!" ordered the coach. "Do you think this's a tea-party?" + +Weir managed by quick contortions to get through his time at bat +without being hit. Three players following him were not so lucky. + +"Didn't I say he was wild?" yelled the coach. "Batter up, now!" + +The next was little Raymond. He came forward cautiously, eying Ken +with disapproval. Ken could not resist putting on a little more steam, +and the wind of the first ball whipped off Raymond's green cap. Raymond +looked scared and edged away from the plate, and as the second ball +came up he stepped wide with his left foot. + +"Step into the ball," said the coach. "Don't pull away. Step in or +you'll never hit." + +The third ball cracked low down on Raymond's leg. + +"Oh!--Oh!--Oh!" he howled, beginning to hop and hobble about the cage. + +"Next batter!" called out Arthurs. + +And so it went on until the most promising player in the cage came to +bat. This was Graves, a light-haired fellow, tall, built like a wedge. +He had more confidence than any player in the squad and showed up well +in all departments of the game. Moreover, he was talky, aggressive, +and more inclined to be heard and felt. He stepped up and swung his +bat at Ken. + +"You wild freshman! If you hit me!" he cried. + +Ken Ward had not fallen in love with any of his rivals for places on +the team, but he especially did not like Graves. He did not stop to +consider the reason of it at the moment, still he remembered several +tricks Graves had played, and he was not altogether sorry for the +coach's order. Swinging a little harder, Ken threw straight at Graves. + +"_Wham!_" The ball struck him fair on the hip. Limping away from +the plate he shook his fist at Ken. + +"Batter up!" yelled Arthurs. "A little more speed now, Peg. You see it +ain't nothin' to get hit. Why, that's in the game. It don't hurt much. +I never cared when I used to get hit. Batter up!" + +Ken sent up a very fast ball, on the outside of the plate. The batter +swung wide, and the ball, tipping the bat, glanced to one side and +struck Arthurs in the stomach with a deep sound. + +Arthurs' round face went red; he gurgled and gasped for breath; he was +sinking to his knees when the yelling and crowing of the students on +the platform straightened him up. He walked about a few minutes, then +ordered sliding practice. + +The sliding-board was brought out. It was almost four feet wide and +twenty long and covered with carpet. + +"Run hard, boys, and don't let up just before you slide. Keep your +speed and dive. Now at it!" + +A line of players formed down the cage. The first one dashed forward +and plunged at the board, hitting it with a bang. The carpet was +slippery and he slid off and rolled in the dust. The second player +leaped forward and, sliding too soon, barely reached the board. One +by one the others followed. + +"Run fast now!" yelled the coach. "Don't flinch.... Go down hard +and slide... light on your hands... keep your heads up... slide!" + +This feature of cage-work caused merriment among the onlookers. That +sliding-board was a wonderful and treacherous thing. Most players slid +off it as swift as a rocket. Arthurs kept them running so fast and so +close together that at times one would shoot off the board just as the +next would strike it. They sprawled on the ground, rolled over, and +rooted in the dust. One skinned his nose on the carpet; another slid +the length of the board on his ear. All the time they kept running and +sliding, the coach shouted to them, and the audience roared with laughter. +But it was no fun for the sliders. Raymond made a beautiful slide, and +Graves was good, but all the others were ludicrous. + +It was a happy day for Ken, and for all the candidates, when the coach +ordered them out on the field. This was early in March. The sun was +bright, the frost all out of the ground, and a breath of spring was in +the air. How different it was from the cold, gloomy cage! Then the mocking +students, although more in evidence than before, were confined to the +stands and bleachers, and could not so easily be heard. But the presence +of the regular varsity team, practising at the far end of Grant Field, +had its effect on the untried players. + +The coach divided his players into two nines and had them practise +batting first, then fielding, and finally started them in a game, +with each candidate playing the position he hoped to make on the +varsity. + +It was a weird game. The majority of the twenty candidates displayed +little knowledge of baseball. School-boys on the commons could have +beaten them. They were hooted and hissed by the students, and before +half the innings were played the bleachers and stands were empty. That +was what old Wayne's students thought of Arthurs' candidates. + +In sharp contrast to most of them, Weir, Raymond, and Graves showed +they had played the game somewhere. Weir at short-stop covered ground +well, but he could not locate first base. Raymond darted here and there +quick as a flash, and pounced upon the ball like a huge frog. Nothing +got past him, but he juggled the ball. Graves was a finished and +beautiful fielder; he was easy, sure, yet fast, and his throw from +third to first went true as a line. + +Graves's fine work accounted for Ken Ward's poor showing. Both were +trying for third base, and when Ken once saw his rival play out on the +field he not only lost heart and became confused, but he instinctively +acknowledged that Graves was far his superior. After all his hopes and +the kind interest of the coach it was a most bitter blow. Ken had never +played so poor a game. The ball blurred in his tear-wet eyes and looked +double. He did not field a grounder. He muffed foul flies and missed +thrown balls. It did not occur to him that almost all of the players +around him were in the same boat. He could think of nothing but the +dashing away of his hopes. What was the use of trying? But he kept +trying, and the harder he tried the worse he played. At the bat he +struck out, fouled out, never hit the ball square at all. Graves got +two well-placed hits to right field. Then when Ken was in the field +Graves would come down the coaching line and talk to him in a voice no +one else could hear. + +"You've got a swell chance to make this team, you have, _not!_ Third +base is my job, Freshie. Why, you tow-head, you couldn't play marbles. +You butter-finger, can't you stop anything? You can't even play sub on +this team. Remember, Ward, I said I'd get you for hitting me that day. +You hit me with a potato once, too. I'll chase you off this team." + +For once Ken's spirit was so crushed and humbled that he could not say +a word to his rival. He even felt he deserved it all. When the practice +ended, and he was walking off the field with hanging head, trying to +bear up under the blow, he met Arthurs. + +"Hello! Peg," said the coach, "I'm going your way." + +Ken walked along feeling Arthurs' glance upon him, but he was ashamed +to raise his head. + +"Peg, you were up in the air to-day--way off--you lost your nut." + +He spoke kindly and put his hand on Ken's arm. Ken looked up to see +that the coach's face was pale and tired, with the characteristic +worried look more marked than usual. + +"Yes, I was," replied Ken, impulsively. "I can play better than I did +to-day--but--Mr. Arthurs, I'm not in Graves's class as a third-baseman. +I know it." + +Ken said it bravely, though there was a catch in his voice. The coach +looked closely at him. + +"So you're sayin' a good word for Graves, pluggin' his game." + +"I'd love to make the team, but old Wayne must have the best players +you can get." + +"Peg, I said once you and me were goin' to get along. I said also that +college baseball is played with the heart. You lost your heart. So did +most of the kids. Well, it ain't no wonder. This's a tryin' time. I'm +playin' them against each other, and no fellow knows where he's at. +Now, I've seen all along that you weren't a natural infielder. I played +you at third to-day to get that idea out of your head. To-morrow I'll +try you in the outfield. You ain't no quitter, Peg." + +Ken hurried to his room under the stress of a complete revulsion of +feeling. His liking for the coach began to grow into something more. +It was strange to Ken what power a few words from Arthurs had to renew +his will and hope and daring. How different Arthurs was when not on the +field. There he was stern and sharp. Ken could not study that night, +and he slept poorly. His revival of hope did not dispel his nervous +excitement. + +He went out into Grant Field next day fighting himself. When in +the practice Arthurs assigned him to a right-field position, he +had scarcely taken his place when he became conscious of a queer +inclination to swallow often, of a numbing tight band round his +chest. He could not stand still; his hands trembled; there was a +mist before his eyes. His mind was fixed upon himself and upon the +other five outfielders trying to make the team. He saw the players +in the infield pace their positions restlessly, run without aim when +the ball was hit or thrown, collide with each other, let the ball go +between their hands and legs, throw wildly, and sometimes stand as if +transfixed when they ought to have been in action. But all this was +not significant to Ken. He saw everything that happened, but he thought +only that he must make a good showing; he must not miss any flies, or +let a ball go beyond him. He absolutely must do the right thing. The +air of Grant Field was charged with intensity of feeling, and Ken +thought it was all his own. His baseball fortune was at stake, and +he worked himself in such a frenzy that if a ball had been batted +in his direction he might not have seen it at all. Fortunately none +came his way. + +The first time at bat he struck out ignominiously, poking weakly +at the pitcher's out-curves. The second time he popped up a little +fly. On the next trial the umpire called him out on strikes. At his +last chance Ken was desperate. He knew the coach placed batting before +any other department of the game. Almost sick with the torture of the +conflicting feelings, Ken went up to the plate and swung blindly. To +his amaze he cracked a hard fly to left-centre, far between the fielders. +Like a startled deer Ken broke into a run. He turned first base and saw +that he might stretch the hit into a three-bagger. He knew he could run, +and never had he so exerted himself. Second base sailed under him, and +he turned in line for the third. Watching Graves, he saw him run for the +base and stand ready to catch the throw-in. + +Without slacking his speed in the least Ken leaped into the air headlong +for the base. He heard the crack of the ball as it hit Graves's glove. +Then with swift scrape on hands and breast he was sliding in the dust. +He stopped suddenly as if blocked by a stone wall. Something hard struck +him on the head. A blinding light within his brain seemed to explode +into glittering slivers. A piercing pain shot through him. Then from +darkness and a great distance sounded a voice: + +"Ward, I said I'd get you!" + + + + +VII + +ANNIHILATION + + +That incident put Ken out of the practice for three days. He had a +bruise over his ear as large as a small apple. Ken did not mind the +pain nor the players' remarks that he had a swelled head anyway, but +he remembered with slow-gathering wrath Graves's words: "I said I'd +get you!" + +He remembered also Graves's reply to a question put by the coach. +"I was only tagging him. I didn't mean to hurt him." That rankled +inside Ken. He kept his counsel, however, even evading a sharp +query put by Arthurs, and as much as it was possible he avoided +the third-baseman. + +Hard practice was the order of every day, and most of it was batting. +The coach kept at the candidates everlastingly, and always his cry was: +"Toe the plate, left foot a little forward, step into the ball and +swing!" At the bat Ken made favorable progress because the coach was +always there behind him with encouraging words; in the field, however, +he made a mess of it, and grew steadily worse. + +The directors of the Athletic Association had called upon the old +varsity to go out and coach the new aspirants for college fame. +The varsity had refused. Even the players of preceding years, what +few were in or near the city, had declined to help develop Wayne's +stripling team. But some of the older graduates, among them several +of the athletic directors, appeared on the field. When Arthurs saw +them he threw up his hands in rage and despair. That afternoon Ken +had three well-meaning but old-fashioned ball-players coach him in +the outfield. He had them one at a time, which was all that saved +him from utter distraction. One told him to judge a fly by the sound +when the ball was hit. Another told him to play in close, and when the +ball was batted to turn and run with it. The third said he must play +deep and sprint in for the fly. Then each had different ideas as to +how batters should be judged, about throwing to bases, about backing +up the other fielders. Ken's bewilderment grew greater and greater. +He had never heard of things they advocated, and he began to think he +did not know anything about the game. And what made his condition of +mind border on imbecility was a hurried whisper from Arthurs between +innings: "Peg, don't pay the slightest attention to 'em fat-head +grad. coaches." + +Practice days succeeding that were worse nightmares to Ken Ward than +the days he had spent in constant fear of the sophomores. It was a +terribly feverish time of batting balls, chasing balls, and of having +dinned into his ears thousands of orders, rules of play, talks on +college spirit in athletics--all of which conflicted so that it was +meaningless to him. During this dark time one ray of light was the +fact that Arthurs never spoke a sharp word to him. Ken felt vaguely +that he was whirling in some kind of a college athletic chaos, out of +which he would presently emerge. + +Toward the close of March the weather grew warm, the practice field +dried up, and baseball should have been a joy to Ken. But it was not. +At times he had a shameful wish to quit the field for good, but he had +not the courage to tell the coach. The twenty-fifth, the day scheduled +for the game with the disgraced varsity team, loomed closer and closer. +Its approach was a fearful thing for Ken. Every day he cast furtive +glances down the field to where the varsity held practice. Ken had +nothing to say; he was as glum as most of the other candidates, but +he had heard gossip in the lecture-rooms, in the halls, on the street, +everywhere, and it concerned this game. What would the old varsity do +to Arthurs' new team? Curiosity ran as high as the feeling toward the +athletic directors. Resentment flowed from every source. Ken somehow got +the impression that he was blamable for being a member of the coach's +green squad. So Ken Ward fluctuated between two fears, one as bad as +the other--that he would not be selected to play, and the other that he +would be selected. It made no difference. He would be miserable if not +chosen, and if he was--how on earth would he be able to keep his knees +from wobbling? Then the awful day dawned. + +Coach Arthurs met all his candidates at the cage. He came late, he +explained, because he wanted to keep them off the field until time for +practice. To-day he appeared more grave than worried, and where the boys +expected a severe lecture, he simply said: "I'll play as many of you as +I can. Do your best, that's all. Don't mind what these old players say. +They were kids once, though they seem to have forgotten it. Try to learn +from them." + +It was the first time the candidates had been taken upon the regular +diamond of Grant Field. Ken had peeped in there once to be impressed by +the beautiful level playground, and especially the magnificent turreted +grand-stand and the great sweeping stretches of bleachers. Then they had +been empty; now, with four thousand noisy students and thousands of other +spectators besides, they stunned him. He had never imagined a crowd coming +to see the game. + +Perhaps Arthurs had not expected it either, for Ken heard him mutter grimly +to himself. He ordered practice at once, and called off the names of those +he had chosen to start the game. As one in a trance Ken Ward found himself +trotting out to right field. + +A long-rolling murmur that was half laugh, half taunt, rose from the +stands. Then it quickly subsided. From his position Ken looked for +the players of the old varsity, but they had not yet come upon the +field. Of the few balls batted to Ken in practice he muffed only one, +and he was just beginning to feel that he might acquit himself creditably +when the coach called the team in. Arthurs had hardly given his new +players time enough to warm up, but likewise they had not had time +to make any fumbles. + +All at once a hoarse roar rose from the stands, then a thundering +clatter of thousands of feet as the students greeted the appearance +of the old varsity. It was applause that had in it all the feeling of +the undergraduates for the championship team, many of whom they considered +had been unjustly barred by the directors. Love, loyalty, sympathy, +resentment--all pealed up to the skies in that acclaim. It rolled out +over the heads of Arthurs' shrinking boys as they huddled together on +the bench. + +Ken Ward, for one, was flushing and thrilling. In that moment he lost +his gloom. He watched the varsity come trotting across the field, a +doughty band of baseball warriors. Each wore a sweater with the huge +white "W" shining like a star. Many of those players had worn that +honored varsity letter for three years. It did seem a shame to bar +them from this season's team. Ken found himself thinking of the matter +from their point of view, and his sympathy was theirs. + +More than that, he gloried in the look of them, in the trained, springy +strides, in the lithe, erect forms, in the assurance in every move. Every +detail of that practice photographed itself upon Ken Ward's memory, and +he knew he would never forget. + +There was Dale, veteran player, captain and pitcher of the nine, hero of +victories over Place and Herne. There was Hogan, catcher for three seasons, +a muscular fellow, famed for his snap-throw to the bases and his fiendish +chasing of foul flies. There was Hickle, the great first-baseman, whom the +professional leagues were trying to get. What a reach he had; how easily +he scooped in the ball; low, high, wide, it made no difference to him. +There was Canton at second, Hollis at short, Burns at third, who had been +picked for the last year's All-American College Team. Then there was Dreer, +brightest star of all, the fleet, hard-hitting centre-fielder. This player +particularly fascinated Ken. It was a beautiful sight to see him run. The +ground seemed to fly behind him. When the ball was hit high he wheeled +with his back to the diamond and raced out, suddenly to turn with unerring +judgment--and the ball dropped into his hands. On low line hits he showed +his fleetness, for he was like a gleam of light in his forward dash; and, +however the ball presented, shoulder high, low by his knees, or on a short +bound, he caught it. Ken Ward saw with despairing admiration what it meant +to be a great outfielder. + +Then Arthurs called "Play ball!" giving the old varsity the field. + +With a violent start Ken Ward came out of his rhapsody. He saw a white +ball tossed on the diamond. Dale received it from one of the fielders +and took his position in the pitcher's box. The uniform set off his +powerful form; there was something surly and grimly determined in +his face. He glanced about to his players, as if from long habit, and +called out gruffly: "Get in the game, fellows! No runs for this scrub +outfit!" Then, with long-practised swing, he delivered the ball. It +travelled plateward swift as the flight of a white swallow. The umpire +called it a strike on Weir; the same on the next pitch; the third was +wide. Weir missed the fourth and was out. Raymond followed on the batting +list. To-day, as he slowly stepped toward the plate, seemingly smaller +and glummer than ever, it was plain he was afraid. The bleachers howled +at the little green cap sticking over his ear. Raymond did not swing at +the ball; he sort of reached out his bat at the first three pitches, +stepping back from the plate each time. The yell that greeted his weak +attempt seemed to shrivel him up. Also it had its effect on the youngsters +huddling around Arthurs. Graves went up and hit a feeble grounder to Dale +and was thrown out at first. + +Ken knew the half-inning was over; he saw the varsity players throw aside +their gloves and trot in. But either he could not rise or he was glued to +the bench. Then Arthurs pulled him up, saying, "Watch sharp, Peg, these +fellows are right-field hitters!" At the words all Ken's blood turned +to ice. He ran out into the field fighting the coldest, most sickening +sensation he ever had in his life. The ice in his veins all went to the +pit of his stomach and there formed into a heavy lump. Other times when +he had been frightened flitted through his mind. It had been bad when he +fought with Greaser, and worse when he ran with the outlaws in pursuit, +and the forest fire was appalling. But Ken felt he would gladly have +changed places at that moment. He dreaded the mocking bleachers. + +Of the candidates chosen to play against the varsity Ken knew McCord at +first, Raymond at second, Weir at short, Graves at third. He did not know +even the names of the others. All of them, except Graves, appeared too +young to play in that game. + +Dreer was first up for the varsity, and Ken shivered all over when the +lithe centre-fielder stepped to the left side of the plate. Ken went +out deeper, for he knew most hard-hitting left-handers hit to right +field. But Dreer bunted the first ball teasingly down the third-base +line. Fleet as a deer, he was across the bag before the infielder +reached the ball. Hollis was next up. On the first pitch, as Dreer +got a fast start for second, Hollis bunted down the first-base line. +Pitcher and baseman ran for the bunt; Hollis was safe, and the sprinting +Dreer went to third without even drawing a throw. A long pealing yell +rolled over the bleachers. Dale sent coaches to the coaching lines. +Hickle, big and formidable, hurried to the plate, swinging a long bat. +He swung it as if he intended to knock the ball out of the field. +When the pitcher lifted his arm Dreer dashed for home-base, and seemed +beating the ball. But Hickle deftly dumped it down the line and broke +for first while Dreer scored. This bunt was not fielded at all. How +the bleachers roared! Then followed bunts in rapid succession, dashes +for first, and slides into the bag. The pitcher interfered with the +third-baseman, and the first-baseman ran up the line, and the pitcher +failed to cover the bag, and the catcher fell all over the ball. +Every varsity man bunted, but in just the place where it was not +expected. They raced around the bases. They made long runs from +first to third. They were like flashes of light, slippery as eels. +The bewildered infielders knew they were being played with. The +taunting "boo-hoos" and screams of delight from the bleachers were +as demoralizing as the illusively daring runners. Closer and closer +the infielders edged in until they were right on top of the batters. +Then Dale and his men began to bunt little infield flies over the heads +of their opponents. The merry audience cheered wildly. But Graves and +Raymond ran back and caught three of these little pop flies, thus retiring +the side. The old varsity had made six runs on nothing but deliberate +bunts and daring dashes around the bases. + +Ken hurried in to the bench and heard some one call out, "Ward up!" + +He had forgotten he would have to bat. Stepping to the plate was like +facing a cannon. One of the players yelled: "Here he is, Dale! Here's +the potato-pegger! Knock his block off!" + +The cry was taken up by other players. "Peg him, Dale! Peg him, Dale!" +And then the bleachers got it. Ken's dry tongue seemed pasted to the +roof of his mouth. This Dale in baseball clothes with the lowering frown +was not like the Dale Ken had known. Suddenly he swung his arm. Ken's +quick eye caught the dark, shooting gleam of the ball. Involuntarily he +ducked. "Strike," called the umpire. Then Dale had not tried to hit him. +Ken stepped up again. The pitcher whirled slowly this time, turning with +long, easy motion, and threw underhand. The ball sailed, floated, soared. +Long before it reached Ken it had fooled him completely. He chopped at +it vainly. The next ball pitched came up swifter, but just before it +crossed the plate it seemed to stop, as if pulled back by a string, and +then dropped down. Ken fell to his knees trying to hit it. + +The next batter's attempts were not as awkward as Ken's, still they were +as futile. As Ken sat wearily down upon the bench he happened to get next +to coach Arthurs. He expected some sharp words from the coach, he thought +he deserved anything, but they were not forthcoming. The coach put his +hand on Ken's knee. When the third batter fouled to Hickle, and Ken +got up to go out to the field, he summoned courage to look at Arthurs. +Something in his face told Ken what an ordeal this was. He divined that +it was vastly more than business with Worry Arthurs. + +"Peg, watch out this time," whispered the coach. "They'll line 'em at +you this inning--like bullets. Now try hard, won't you? _Just try!_" + +Ken knew from Arthurs' look more than his words that _trying_ was all +that was left for the youngsters. The varsity had come out early in +the spring, and they had practised to get into condition to annihilate +this new team practically chosen by the athletic directors. And they +had set out to make the game a farce. But Arthurs meant that all the +victory was not in winning the game. It was left for his boys to try +in the face of certain defeat, to try with all their hearts, to try with +unquenchable spirit. It was the spirit that counted, not the result. +The old varsity had received a bitter blow; they were aggressive and +relentless. The students and supporters of old Wayne, idolizing the +great team, always bearing in mind the hot rivalry with Place and Herne, +were unforgiving and intolerant of an undeveloped varsity. Perhaps neither +could be much blamed. But it was for the new players to show what it meant +to them. The greater the prospect of defeat, the greater the indifference +or hostility shown them, the more splendid their opportunity. For it was +theirs to try for old Wayne, to try, to fight, and never to give up. + +Ken caught fire with the flame of that spirit. + +"Boys, come on!" he cried, in his piercing tenor. "_They can't beat us +trying!_" + +As he ran out into the field members of the varsity spoke to him. +"You green-backed freshman! Shut up! You scrub!" + +"I'm not a varsity has-been!" retorted Ken, hurrying out to his position. + +The first man up, a left-hander, rapped a hard twisting liner to right +field. Ken ran toward deep centre with all his might. The ball kept +twisting and curving. It struck squarely in Ken's hands and bounced +out and rolled far. When he recovered it the runner was on third base. +Before Ken got back to his position the second batter hit hard through +the infield toward right. The ball came skipping like a fiendish rabbit. +Ken gritted his teeth and went down on his knees, to get the bounding +ball full in his breast. But he stopped it, scrambled for it, and made +the throw in. Dale likewise hit in his direction, a slow low fly, +difficult to judge. Ken over-ran it, and the hit gave Dale two bases. +Ken realized that the varsity was now executing Worry Arthurs' famous +right-field hitting. The sudden knowledge seemed to give Ken the +blind-staggers. The field was in a haze; the players blurred in his +sight. He heard the crack of the ball and saw Raymond dash over and +plunge down. Then the ball seemed to streak out of the grass toward +him, and, as he bent over, it missed his hands and cracked on his shin. +Again he fumbled wildly for it and made the throw in. The pain roused +his rage. He bit his lips and called to himself: "I'll stop them if it +kills me!" + +Dreer lined the ball over his head for a home-run. Hollis made a bid +for a three-bagger, but Ken, by another hard sprint, knocked the ball +down. Hickle then batted up a tremendously high fly. It went far beyond +Ken and he ran and ran. It looked like a small pin-point of black up +in the sky. Then he tried to judge it, to get under it. The white sky +suddenly glazed over and the ball wavered this way and that. Ken lost +it in the sun, found it again, and kept on running. Would it never come +down? He had not reached it, he had run beyond it. In an agony he lunged +out, and the ball fell into his hands and jumped out. + +Then followed a fusillade of hits, all between second base and first, +and all vicious-bounding grounders. To and fro Ken ran, managing somehow +to get some portion of his anatomy in front of the ball. It had become +a demon to him now and he hated it. His tongue was hanging out, his +breast was bursting, his hands were numb, yet he held before him the +one idea to keep fiercely trying. + +He lost count of the runs after eleven had been scored. He saw McCord and +Raymond trying to stem the torrent of right-field hits, but those they +knocked down gave him no time to recover. He blocked the grass-cutters +with his knees or his body and pounced upon the ball and got it away from +him as quickly as possible. Would this rapid fire of uncertain-bounding +balls never stop? Ken was in a kind of frenzy. If he only had time to +catch his breath! + +Then Dreer was at bat again. He fouled the first two balls over the +grand-stand. Some one threw out a brand-new ball. Farther and farther +Ken edged into deep right. He knew what was coming. "Let him--hit it!" +he panted. "I'll try to get it! This day settles me. I'm no outfielder. +But I'll try!" + +The tired pitcher threw the ball and Dreer seemed to swing and bound at +once with the ringing crack. The hit was one of his famous drives close +to the right-field foul-line. + +Ken was off with all the speed left in him. He strained every nerve +and was going fast when he passed the foul-flag. The bleachers loomed +up indistinct in his sight. But he thought only of meeting the ball. +The hit was a savage liner, curving away from him. Cinders under his +flying feet were a warning that he did not heed. He was on the track. +He leaped into the air, left hand outstretched, and felt the ball +strike in his glove. + +Then all was dark in a stunning, blinding crash-- + + + + +VIII + +EXAMINATIONS + + +When Ken Ward came fully to his senses he was being half carried +and half led across the diamond to the players' bench. He heard +Worry Arthurs say: "He ain't hurt much--only butted into the fence." + +Ken tried manfully to entertain Worry's idea about it, but he was too +dazed and weak to stand alone. He imagined he had broken every bone in +his body. + +"Did I make the catch--hang to the ball?" he asked. + +"No, Peg, you didn't," replied the coach, kindly. "But you made a grand +try for it." + +He felt worse over failing to hold the ball than he felt over half +killing himself against the bleachers. He spent the remainder of +that never-to-be-forgotten game sitting on the bench. But to watch +his fellow-players try to play was almost as frightful as being +back there in right field. It was no consolation for Ken to see +his successor chasing long hits, misjudging flies, failing weakly +on wicked grounders. Even Graves weakened toward the close and +spoiled his good beginning by miserable fumbles and throws. It was +complete and disgraceful rout. The varsity never let up until the +last man was out. The team could not have played harder against +Place or Herne. Arthurs called the game at the end of the sixth +inning with the score 41 to 0. + +Many beaten and despondent players had dragged themselves off Grant +Field in bygone years. But none had ever been so humiliated, so crushed. +No player spoke a word or looked at another. They walked off with bowed +heads. Ken lagged behind the others; he was still stunned and lame. +Presently Arthurs came back to help him along, and did not speak until +they were clear of the campus and going down Ken's street. + +"I'm glad that's over," said Worry. "I kicked against havin' the game, +but 'em fat-head directors would have it. Now we'll be let alone. There +won't be no students comin' out to the field, and I'm blamed glad." + +Ken was sick and smarting with pain, and half crying. + +"I'm sorry, Mr. Arthurs," he faltered, "we were--so--so--rotten!" + +"See here, Peg," was the quick reply, "that cuts no ice with me. It was +sure the rottenest exhibition I ever seen in my life. But there's excuses, +and you can just gamble I'm the old boy who knows. You kids were scared +to death. What hurts me, Peg, is the throw-down we got from my old team +and from the students. We're not to blame for rules made by fat-head +directors. I was surprised at Dale. He was mean, and so were Hollis and +Hickle--all of 'em. They didn't need to disgrace us like that." + +"Oh, Mr. Arthurs, what players they are!" exclaimed Ken. "I never saw +such running, such hitting. You said they'd hit to right field like +bullets, but it was worse than bullets. And Dreer!... When he came up +my heart just stopped beating." + +"Peg, listen," said Worry. "Three years ago when Dreer came out on the +field he was greener than you, and hadn't half the spunk. I made him +what he is, and I made all of 'em--I made that team, and I can make +another." + +"You are just saying that to--to encourage me," replied Ken, hopelessly. +"I can't play ball. I thought I could, but I know now. I'll never go +out on the field again." + +"Peg, are you goin' to throw me down, too?" + +"Mr. Arthurs! I--I--" + +"Listen, Peg. Cut out the dumps. Get over 'em. You made the varsity +to-day. Understand? You earned your big W. You needn't mention it, +but I've picked you to play somewhere. You weren't a natural infielder, +and you didn't make much of a showin' in the outfield. But it's the +spirit I want. To-day was a bad day for a youngster. There's always +lots of feelin' about college athletics, but here at Wayne this year +the strain's awful. And you fought yourself and stage-fright and the +ridicule of 'em quitter students. You _tried_, Peg! I never saw a gamer +try. You didn't fail me. And after you made that desperate run and +tried to smash the bleachers with your face the students shut up their +guyin'. It made a difference, Peg. Even the varsity was a little ashamed. +Cheer up, now!" + +Ken was almost speechless; he managed to mumble something, at which +the coach smiled in reply and then walked rapidly away. Ken limped +to his room and took off his baseball suit. The skin had been peeled +from his elbow, and his body showed several dark spots that Ken knew +would soon be black-and-blue bruises. His legs from his knees down +bore huge lumps so sore to the touch that Ken winced even at gentle +rubbing. But he did not mind the pain. All the darkness seemed to have +blown away from his mind. + +"What a fine fellow Worry is!" said Ken. "How I'll work for him! I +must write to brother Hal and Dick Leslie, to tell them I've made +the varsity.... No, not yet; Worry said not to mention it.... And +now to plug. I'll have to take my exams before the first college +game, April 8th, and that's not long." + +In the succeeding days Ken was very busy with attendance at college in +the mornings, baseball practice in the afternoons, and study at night. + +If Worry had picked any more players for the varsity, Ken could not +tell who they were. Of course Graves would make the team, and Weir and +Raymond were pretty sure of places. There were sixteen players for the +other five positions, and picking them was only guesswork. It seemed +to Ken that some of the players showed streaks of fast playing at times, +and then as soon as they were opposed to one another in the practice +game they became erratic. His own progress was slow. One thing he could +do that brought warm praise from the coach--he could line the ball home +from deep outfield with wonderful speed and accuracy. + +After the varsity had annihilated Worry's "kids," as they had come to +be known, the students showed no further interest. When they ceased +to appear on the field the new players were able to go at their practice +without being ridiculed. Already an improvement had been noticeable. +But rivalry was so keen for places, and the coach's choice so deep a +mystery, that the contestants played under too great a tension, and +school-boys could have done better. + +It was on the first of April that Arthurs took Ken up into College Hall +to get permission for him to present himself to the different professors +for the early examinations. While Ken sat waiting in the office he heard +Arthurs talking to men he instantly took to be the heads of the Athletic +Association. They were in an adjoining room with the door open, and their +voices were very distinct, so that Ken could not help hearing. + +"Gentlemen, I want my answer to-day," said the coach. + +"Is there so great a hurry? Wait a little," was the rejoinder. + +"I'm sorry, but this is April 1st, and I'll wait no longer. I'm ready +to send some of my boys up for early exams, and I want to know where +I stand." + +"Arthurs, what is it exactly that you want? Things have been in an +awful mess, we know. State your case and we'll try to give you a +definite answer." + +"I want full charge of the coachin'--the handlin' of the team, as I +always had before. I don't want any grad coaches. The directors seem +divided, one half want this, the other half that. They've cut out the +trainin' quarters. I've had no help from Murray; no baths or rub-downs +or trainin' for my candidates. Here's openin' day a week off and I +haven't picked my team. I want to take them to the trainin'-table and +have them under my eye all the time. If I can't have what I want I'll +resign. If I can I'll take the whole responsibility of the team on my +own shoulders." + +"Very well, Arthurs, we'll let you go ahead and have full charge. There +has been talk this year of abolishing a private training-house and table +for this green varsity. But rather than have you resign we'll waive that. +You can rest assured from now on you will not be interfered with. Give +us the best team you can under the circumstances. There has been much +dissension among the directors and faculty because of our new eligibility +rules. It has stirred everybody up, and the students are sore. Then +there has been talk of not having a professional coach this year, but +we overruled that in last night's meeting. We're going to see what you +can do. I may add, Arthurs, if you shape up a varsity this year that makes +any kind of a showing against Place and Herne you will win the eternal +gratitude of the directors who have fostered this change in athletics. +Otherwise I'm afraid the balance of opinion will favor the idea of +dispensing with professional coaches in the future." + +Ken saw that Arthurs was white in the face when he left the room. They +went out together, and Worry handed Ken a card that read for him to take +his examinations at once. + +"Are you up on 'em?" asked the coach, anxiously. + +"I--I think so," replied Ken. + +"Well, Peg, good luck to you! Go at 'em like you went at Dreer's hit." + +Much to his amazement it was for Ken to discover that, now the time had +come for him to face his examinations, he was not at all sanguine. He +began to worry. He forgot about the text-books he had mastered in his +room during the long winter when he feared to venture out because of +the sophomores. It was not very long till he had worked himself into a +state somewhat akin to his trepidation in the varsity ball game. Then +he decided to go up at once and have it done with. His whole freshman +year had been one long agony. What a relief to have it ended! + +Ken passed four examinations in one morning, passed them swimmingly, +smilingly, splendidly, and left College Hall in an ecstasy. Things +were working out fine. But he had another examination, and it was in +a subject he had voluntarily included in his course. Whatever on earth +he had done it for he could not now tell. The old doctor who held the +chair in that department had thirty years before earned the name of Crab. +And slowly in the succeeding years he had grown crabbier, crustier, so +student rumor had it. Ken had rather liked the dry old fellow, and had +been much absorbed in his complex lectures, but he had never been near +him, and now the prospect changed color. Foolishly Ken asked a sophomore +in what light old Crab might regard a student who was ambitious to pass +his exams early. The picture painted by that sophomore would have made +a flaming-mouthed dragon appear tame. Nerving himself to the ordeal, Ken +took his card and presented himself one evening at the doctor's house. + +A maid ushered him into the presence of a venerable old man who did not +look at all, even in Ken's distorted sight, like a crab or a dragon. His +ponderous brow seemed as if it had all the thought in the world behind +it. He looked over huge spectacles at Ken's card and then spoke in a dry, +quavering voice. + +"Um-m. Sit down, Mr. Ward." + +Ken found his breath and strangely lost his fear and trembling. The doctor +dryly asked him why he thought he knew more than the other students, who +were satisfied to wait months longer before examination. Ken hastened to +explain that it was no desire of his; that, although he had studied hard +and had not missed many lectures, he knew he was unprepared. Then he went +on to tell about the baseball situation and why he had been sent up. + +"Um-m." The professor held a glass paperweight up before Ken and asked +a question about it. Next he held out a ruler and asked something about +that, and also a bottle of ink. Following this he put a few queries +about specific gravity, atomic weight, and the like. Then he sat +thrumming his desk and appeared far away in thought. After a while +he turned to Ken with a smile that made his withered, parchment-like +face vastly different. + +"Where do you play?" he asked. + +"S-sir?" stammered Ken. + +"In baseball, I mean. What place do you play? Catch? Thrower? I don't +know the names much." + +Ken replied eagerly, and then it seemed he was telling this stern old +man all about baseball. He wanted to know what fouls were, and how to +steal bases, and he was nonplussed by such terms as "hit-and-run." Ken +discoursed eloquently on his favorite sport, and it was like a kind of +dream to be there. Strange things were always happening to him. + +"I've never seen a game," said the professor. "I used to play myself +long ago, when we had a yarn ball and pitched underhand. I'll have to +come out to the field some day. President Halstead, why, he likes +baseball, he's a--a--what do you call it?" + +"A fan--a rooter?" replied Ken, smiling. + +"Um-m. I guess that's it. Well, Mr. Ward, I'm glad to meet you. You may +go now." + +Ken got up blushing like a girl. "But, Doctor, you were to--I was to be +examined." + +"I've examined you," he drawled, with a dry chuckle, and he looked over +his huge spectacles at Ken. "I'll give you a passing mark. But, Mr. Ward, +you know a heap more about baseball than you know about physics." + +As Ken went out he trod upon air. What a splendid old fellow! The sophomore +had lied. For that matter, when had a sophomore ever been known to tell +the truth? But, he suddenly exclaimed, he himself was no longer a freshman. +He pondered happily on the rosy lining to his old cloud of gloom. How +different things appeared after a little time. That old doctor's smile +would linger long in Ken's memory. He felt deep remorse that he had ever +misjudged him. He hurried on to Worry Arthurs' house to tell him the good +news. And as he walked his mind was full with the wonder of it all--his +lonely, wretched freshman days, now forever past; the slow change from +hatred; the dawning of some strange feeling for the college and his +teachers; and, last, the freedom, the delight, the quickening stir in +the present. + + + + +IX + +PRESIDENT HALSTEAD ON COLLEGE SPIRIT + + +Wayne's opening game was not at all what Ken had dreamed it would be. +The opposing team from Hudson School was as ill-assorted an aggregation +as Ken had ever seen. They brought with them a small but noisy company +of cheering supporters who, to the shame of Ken and his fellows, had +the bleachers all to themselves. If any Wayne students were present +they either cheered for Hudson or remained silent. + +Hudson won, 9 to 2. It was a game that made Arthurs sag a little lower +on the bench. Graves got Wayne's two tallies. Raymond at second played +about all the game from the fielding standpoint. Ken distinguished +himself by trying wildly and accomplishing nothing. When he went to +his room that night he had switched back to his former spirits, and +was disgusted with Wayne's ball team, himself most of all. + +That was on a Wednesday. The next day rain prevented practice, and on +Friday the boys were out on the field again. Arthurs shifted the players +around, trying resignedly to discover certain positions that might fit +certain players. It seemed to Ken that all the candidates, except one +or two, were good at fielding and throwing, but when they came to play +a game they immediately went into a trance. + +Travers College was scheduled for Saturday. They had always turned out +a good minor team, but had never been known to beat Wayne. They shut +Arthurs' team out without a run. A handful of Wayne students sat in the +bleachers mocking their own team. Arthurs used the two pitchers he had +been trying hard to develop, and when they did locate the plate they +were hit hard. Ken played or essayed to play right field for a while, +but he ran around like a chicken with its head off, as a Travers player +expressed it, and then Arthurs told him that he had better grace the +bench the rest of the game. Ashamed as Ken was to be put out, he was +yet more ashamed to feel that he was glad of it. Hardest of all to bear +was the arrogant air put on by the Travers College players. Wayne had +indeed been relegated to the fifth rank of college baseball teams. + +On Monday announcements were made in all the lecture-rooms and departments +of the university, and bulletins were posted to the effect, that President +Halstead wished to address the undergraduates in the Wayne auditorium +on Tuesday at five o'clock. + +Rumor flew about the campus and Carlton Club, everywhere, that the +president's subject would be "College Spirit," and it was believed he +would have something to say about the present condition of athletics. +Ken Ward hurried to the hall as soon as he got through his practice. He +found the immense auditorium packed from pit to dome, and he squeezed +into a seat on the steps. + +The students, as always, were exchanging volleys of paper-balls, +matching wits, singing songs, and passing time merrily. When +President Halstead entered, with two of his associates, he was +greeted by a thunder of tongues, hands, and heels of the standing +students. He was the best-beloved member of the university faculty, +a distinguished, scholarly looking man, well-stricken in years. + +He opened his address by declaring the need of college spirit in college +life. He defined it as the vital thing, the heart of a great educational +institution, and he went on to speak of its dangers, its fluctuations. +Then he made direct reference to athletics in its relation to both +college spirit and college life. + +"Sport is too much with us. Of late years I have observed a great increase +in the number of athletic students, and a great decrease in scholarship. +The fame of the half-back and the short-stop and the stroke-oar has grown +out of proportion to their real worth. The freshman is dazzled by it. The +great majority of college men cannot shine in sport, which is the best +thing that could be. The student's ideal, instead of being the highest +scholarship, the best attainment for his career, is apt to be influenced +by the honors and friendships that are heaped upon the great athlete. +This is false to university life. You are here to prepare yourselves +for the battle with the world, and I want to state that that battle is +becoming more and more intellectual. The student who slights his studies +for athletic glory may find himself, when that glory is long past, +distanced in the race for success by a student who had not trained to +run the hundred in ten seconds. + +"But, gentlemen, to keep well up in your studies and _then_ go in for +athletics--that is entirely another question. It is not likely that +any student who keeps to the front in any of the university courses +will have too much time for football or baseball. I am, as you all +know, heartily in favor of all branches of college sport. And that +brings me to the point I want to make to-day. Baseball is my favorite +game, and I have always been proud of Wayne's teams. The new eligibility +rules, with which you are all familiar, were brought to me, and after +thoroughly going over the situation I approved of them. Certainly it is +obvious to you all that a university ball-player making himself famous +here, and then playing during the summer months at a resort, is laying +himself open to suspicion. I have no doubt that many players are innocent +of the taint of professionalism, but unfortunately they have become +members of these summer teams after being first requested, then warned, +not to do so. + +"Wayne's varsity players of last year have been barred by the directors. +They made their choice, and so should abide by it. They have had their +day, and so should welcome the opportunity of younger players. But I +am constrained to acknowledge that neither they nor the great body of +undergraduates welcomed the change. This, more than anything, proves to +me the evil of championship teams. The football men, the baseball men, +the crew men, and all the student supporters want to win _all_ the games +_all_ the time. I would like to ask you young gentlemen if you can take +a beating? If you cannot, I would like to add that you are not yet fitted +to go out into life. A good beating, occasionally, is a wholesome thing. + +"Well, to come to the point now: I find, after studying the situation, +that the old varsity players and undergraduates of this university have +been lacking in--let us be generous and say, college spirit. I do not +need to go into detail; suffice it to say that I know. I will admit, +however, that I attended the game between the old varsity and the new +candidates. I sat unobserved in a corner, and a more unhappy time I +never spent in this university. I confess that my sympathies were with +the inexperienced, undeveloped boys who were trying to learn to play +ball. _Put yourselves in their places._ Say you are mostly freshmen, +and you make yourselves candidates for the team because you love the +game, and because you would love to bring honor to your college. You +go out and try. You meet, the first day, an implacable team of skilled +veterans who show their scorn of your poor ability, their hatred of +your opportunity, and ride roughshod--I should say, run with spiked +shoes--over you. You hear the roar of four thousand students applauding +these hero veterans. You hear your classmates, your fellow-students in +Wayne, howl with ridicule at your weak attempts to compete with better, +stronger players.... Gentlemen, how would you feel? + +"I said before that college spirit fluctuates. If I did not know students +well I would be deeply grieved at the spirit shown that day. I know that +the tide will turn.... And, gentlemen, would not you and the old varsity +be rather in an embarrassing position if--if these raw recruits should +happen to develop into a team strong enough to cope with Place and Herne? +Stranger things have happened. I am rather strong for the new players, +not because of their playing, which is poor indeed, but for the way they +_tried_ under peculiarly adverse conditions. + +"That young fellow Ward--what torture that inning of successive hard +hits to his territory! I was near him in that end of the bleachers, +and I watched him closely. Every attempt he made was a failure--that +is, failure from the point of view of properly fielding the ball. But, +gentlemen, that day was not a failure for young Ward. It was a grand +success. Some one said his playing was the poorest exhibition ever seen +on Grant Field. That may be. I want to say that to my mind it was also +the most splendid effort ever made on Grant Field. For it was made against +defeat, fear, ridicule. It was elimination of self. It was made for his +coach, his fellow-players, his college--that is to say, for the students +who shamed themselves by scorn for his trial. + +"Young men of Wayne, give us a little more of such college spirit!" + + + + +X + +NEW PLAYERS + + +When practice time rolled around for Ken next day, he went upon the +field once more with his hopes renewed and bright. + +"I certainly do die hard," he laughed to himself. "But I can never go +down and out now--never!" + +Something seemed to ring in Ken's ears like peals of bells. In spite of +his awkwardness Coach Arthurs had made him a varsity man; in spite of his +unpreparedness old Crab had given him a passing mark; in spite of his +unworthiness President Halstead had made him famous. + +"I surely am the lucky one," said Ken, for the hundredth time. "And +now I'm going to force my luck." Ken had lately revolved in his mind +a persistent idea that he meant to propound to the coach. + +Ken arrived on the field a little later than usual, to find Arthurs for +once minus his worried look. He was actually smiling, and Ken soon saw +the reason for this remarkable change was the presence of a new player +out in centre field. + +"Hello, Peg! things are lookin' up," said the coach, beaming. "That's +Homans out there in centre--Roy Homans, a senior and a crackerjack +ball-player. I tried to get him to come out for the team last year, but +he wouldn't spare the time. But he's goin' to play this season--said the +president's little talk got him. He's a fast, heady, scientific player, +just the one to steady you kids." + +Before Ken could reply his attention was attracted from Homans to +another new player in uniform now walking up to Arthurs. He was tall, +graceful, powerful, had red hair, keen dark eyes, a clean-cut profile +and square jaw. + +"I've come out to try for the team," he said, quietly, to the coach. + +"You're a little late, ain't you?" asked Worry, gruffly; but he ran +a shrewd glance over the lithe form. + +"Yes." + +"Must have been stirred up by that talk of President Halstead's, +wasn't you?" + +"Yes." There was something quiet and easy about the stranger, +and Ken liked him at once. + +"Where do you play?" went on Worry. + +"Left." + +"Can you hit? Talk sense now, and mebbe you'll save me work. Can you hit?" + +"Yes." + +"Can you throw?" + +"Yes." He spoke with quiet assurance. + +"Can you run?" almost shouted Worry. He was nervous and irritable +those days, and it annoyed him for unknown youths to speak calmly +of such things. + +"Run? Yes, a little. I did the hundred last year in nine and four-fifths." + +"What! You can't kid me! Who are you?" cried Worry, getting red in the +face. "I've seen you somewhere." + +"My name's Ray." + +"Say! Not _Ray_, the intercollegiate champion?" + +"I'm the fellow. I talked it over with Murray. He kicked, but I didn't +mind that. I promised to try to keep in shape to win the sprints at the +intercollegiate meet." + +"Say! Get out there in left field! Quick!" shouted Worry.... "Peg, hit +him some flies. Lam 'em a mile! That fellow's a sprinter, Peg. What luck +it would be if he can play ball! Hit 'em at him!" + +Ken took the ball Worry tossed him, and, picking up a bat, began to +knock flies out to Ray. The first few he made easy for the outfielder, +and then he hit balls harder and off to the right or left. Without +appearing to exert himself Ray got under them. Ken watched him, and +also kept the tail of his eye on Worry. The coach appeared to be +getting excited, and he ordered Ken to hit the balls high and far +away. Ken complied, but he could not hit a ball over Ray's head. He +tried with all his strength. He had never seen a champion sprinter, +and now he marvelled at the wonderful stride. + +"Oh! but his running is beautiful!" exclaimed Ken. + +"That's enough! Come in here!" yelled Worry to Ray.... "Peg, he makes +Dreer look slow. I never saw as fast fieldin' as that." + +When Ray came trotting in without seeming to be even warmed up, Worry +blurted out: "You ain't winded--after all that? Must be in shape?" + +"I'm always in shape," replied Ray. + +"Pick up a bat!" shouted Worry. "Here, Duncan, pitch this fellow a few. +Speed 'em, curve 'em, strike him out, hit him--anything!" + +Ray was left-handed, and he stood up to the plate perfectly erect, +with his bat resting quietly on his shoulder. He stepped straight, +swung with an even, powerful swing, and he hit the first ball clear +over the right-field bleachers. It greatly distanced Dreer's hit. + +"What a drive!" gasped Ken. + +"Oh!" choked Worry. "That's enough! You needn't lose my balls. Bunt one, +now." + +Ray took the same position, and as the ball came up he appeared to drop +the bat upon it and dart away at the same instant. + +Worry seemed to be trying to control violent emotion. "Next batter up!" +he called, hoarsely, and sat down on the bench. He was breathing hard, +and beads of sweat stood out on his brow. + +Ken went up to Worry, feeling that now was the time to acquaint the +coach with his new idea. Eager as Ken was he had to force himself to +take this step. All the hope and dread, nervousness and determination +of the weeks of practice seemed to accumulate in that moment. He +stammered and stuttered, grew speechless, and then as Worry looked +up in kind surprise, Ken suddenly grew cool and earnest. + +"Mr. Arthurs, will you try me in the box?" + +"What's that, Peg?" queried the coach, sharply. + +"Will you give me a trial in the box? I've wanted one all along. You put +me in once when we were in the cage, but you made me hit the batters." + +"Pitch? you, Peg? Why not? Why didn't I think of it? I'm sure gettin' +to be like 'em fat-head directors. You've got steam, Peg, but can you +curve a ball? Let's see your fingers." + +"Yes, I can curve a ball round a corner. Please give me a trial, +Mr. Arthurs. I failed in the infield, and I'm little good in the +outfield. But I know I can pitch." + +The coach gave Ken one searching glance. Then he called all the +candidates in to the plate, and ordered Dean, the stocky little +catcher, to don his breast-protector, mask, and mitt. + +"Peg," said the coach, "Dean will sign you--one finger for a straight +ball, two for a curve." + +When Ken walked to the box all his muscles seemed quivering and tense, +and he had a contraction in his throat. This was his opportunity. He was +not unnerved as he had been when he was trying for the other positions. +All Ken's life he had been accustomed to throwing. At his home he had +been the only boy who could throw a stone across the river; the only one +who could get a ball over the high-school tower. A favorite pastime had +always been the throwing of small apples, or walnuts, or stones, and he +had acquired an accuracy that made it futile for his boy comrades to +compete with him. Curving a ball had come natural to him, and he would +have pitched all his high-school games had it not been for the fact that +no one could catch him, and, moreover, none of the boys had found any +fun in batting against him. + +When Ken faced the first batter a feeling came over him that he had +never before had on the ball field. He was hot, trembling, hurried, +but this new feeling was apart from these. His feet were on solid +ground, and his arm felt as it had always in those throwing contests +where he had so easily won. He seemed to decide from McCord's position +at the plate what to throw him. + +Ken took his swing. It was slow, easy, natural. But the ball travelled +with much greater speed than the batter expected from such motion. McCord +let the first two balls go by, and Arthurs called them both strikes. Then +Ken pitched an out-curve which McCord fanned at helplessly. Arthurs sent +Trace up next. Ken saw that the coach was sending up the weaker hitters +first. Trace could not even make a foul. Raymond was third up, and Ken +had to smile at the scowling second-baseman. Remembering his weakness +for pulling away from the plate, Ken threw Raymond two fast curves on +the outside, and then a slow wide curve, far out. Raymond could not have +hit the first two with a paddle, and the third lured him irresistibly +out of position and made him look ridiculous. He slammed his bat down +and slouched to the bench. Duncan turned out to be the next easy victim. +Four batters had not so much as fouled Ken. And Ken knew he was holding +himself in--that, in fact, he had not let out half his speed. Blake, the +next player, hit up a little fly that Ken caught, and Schoonover made +the fifth man to strike out. + +Then Weir stood over the plate, and he was a short, sturdy batter, hard +to pitch to. He looked as if he might be able to hit any kind of a ball. +Ken tried him first with a straight fast one over the middle of the plate. +Weir hit it hard, but it went foul. And through Ken's mind flashed the +thought that he would pitch no more speed to Weir or players who swung +as he did. Accordingly Ken tried the slow curve that had baffled Raymond. +Weir popped it up and retired in disgust. + +The following batter was Graves, who strode up smiling, confident, +sarcastic, as if he knew he could do more than the others. Ken imagined +what the third-baseman would have said if the coach had not been present. +Graves always ruffled Ken the wrong way. + +"I'll strike him out if I break my arm!" muttered Ken to himself. He +faced Graves deliberately and eyed his position at bat. Graves as +deliberately laughed at him. + +"Pitch up, pitch up!" he called out. + +"Right over the pan!" retorted Ken, as quick as an echo. He went hot as +fire all over. This fellow Graves had some strange power of infuriating +him. + +Ken took a different swing, which got more of his weight in motion, and +let his arm out. Like a white bullet the ball shot plateward, rising a +little so that Graves hit vainly under it. The ball surprised Dean, +knocked his hands apart as if they had been paper, and resounded from +his breast-protector. Ken pitched the second ball in the same place with +a like result, except that Dean held on to it. Graves had lost his smile +and wore an expression of sickly surprise. The third ball travelled by +him and cracked in Dean's mitt, and Arthurs called it a strike. + +"Easy there--that'll do!" yelled the coach. "Come in here, Peg. Out on +the field now, boys." + +Homans stopped Ken as they were passing each other, and Ken felt himself +under the scrutiny of clear gray eyes. + +"Youngster, you look good to me," said Homans. + +Ken also felt himself regarded with astonishment by many of the candidates; +and Ray ran a keen, intuitive glance over him from head to foot. But it was +the coach's manner that struck Ken most forcibly. Worry was utterly unlike +himself. + +"Why didn't you tell me about this before--you--you--" he yelled, red as +a beet in the face. He grasped Ken with both hands, then he let him go, +and picking up a ball and a mitt he grasped him again. Without a word he +led Ken across the field and to a secluded corner behind the bleachers. +Ken felt for all the world as if he was being led to execution. + +Worry took off his coat and vest and collar. He arranged a block of wood +for a plate and stepped off so many paces and placed another piece of +wood to mark the pitcher's box. Then he donned the mitt. + +"Peg, somethin's comin' off. I know it. I never make mistakes in sizin' +up pitchers. But I've had such hard luck this season that I can't believe +my own eyes. We've got to prove it. Now you go out there and pitch to me. +Just natural like at first." + +Ken pitched a dozen balls or more, some in-curves, some out-curves. Then +he threw what he called his drop, which he executed by a straight overhand +swing. + +"Oh--a beauty!" yelled Worry. "Where, Peg, where did you learn that? +Another, lower now." + +Worry fell over trying to stop the glancing drop. + +"Try straight ones now, Peg, right over the middle. See how many you +can pitch." + +One after another, with free, easy motion, Ken shot balls squarely over +the plate. Worry counted them, and suddenly, after the fourteenth pitch, +he stood up and glared at Ken. + +"Are you goin' to keep puttin' 'em over this pan all day that way?" + +"Mr. Arthurs, I couldn't miss that plate if I pitched a week," +replied Ken. + +"Stop callin' me Mister!" yelled Worry. "Now, put 'em where I hold my +hands--inside corner... outside corner... again... inside now, low... +another... a fast one over, now... high, inside. Oh, Peg, this ain't +right. I ain't seein' straight. I think I'm dreamin'. Come on with 'em!" + +Fast and true Ken sped the balls into Worry's mitt. Seldom did the +coach have to move his hands at all. + +"Peg Ward, did you know that pitchin' was all control, puttin' the ball +where you wanted to?" asked Worry, stopping once more. + +"No, I didn't," replied Ken. + +"How did you learn to peg a ball as straight as this?" + +Ken told him how he had thrown at marks all his life. + +"Why didn't you tell me before?" Worry seemed not to be able to get +over Ken's backwardness. "Look at the sleepless nights and the gray +hairs you could have saved me." He stamped around as if furious, yet +underneath the surface Ken saw that the coach was trying to hide his +elation. "Here now," he shouted, suddenly, "a few more, and _peg_ 'em! +See? Cut loose and let me see what steam you've got!" + +Ken whirled with all his might and delivered the ball with all his +weight in the swing. The ball seemed to diminish in size, it went so +swiftly. Near the plate it took an upward jump, and it knocked Worry's +mitt off his hand. + +Worry yelled out, then he looked carefully at Ken, but he made no effort +to go after the ball or pick up the mitt. + +"Did I say for you to knock my block off?... Come here, Peg. You're only +a youngster. Do you think you can keep that? Are you goin' to let me teach +you to pitch? Have you got any nerve? Are you up in the air at the thought +of Place and Herne?" + +Then he actually hugged Ken, and kept hold of him as if he might get away. +He was panting and sweating. All at once he sat down on one of the braces +of the bleachers and began mopping his face. He seemed to cool down, to +undergo a subtle change. + +"Peg," he said, quietly, "I'm as bad as some of 'em fat-head directors.... +You see I didn't have no kind of a pitcher to work on this spring. I kept +on hopin'. Strange why I didn't quit. And now--my boy, you're a kid, but +you're a natural born pitcher." + + + + +XI + +STATE UNIVERSITY GAME + + +Arthurs returned to the diamond and called the squad around him. He might +have been another coach from the change that was manifest in him. + +"Boys, I've picked the varsity, and sorry I am to say you all can't be on +it. Ward, Dean, McCord, Raymond, Weir, Graves, Ray, Homans, Trace, Duncan, +and Schoonover--these men will report at once to Trainer Murray and obey +his orders. Then pack your trunks and report to me at 36 Spring Street +to-night. That's all--up on your toes now.... The rest of you boys will +each get his uniform and sweater, but, of course, I can't give you the +varsity letter. You've all tried hard and done your best. I'm much obliged +to you, and hope you'll try again next year." + +Led by Arthurs, the players trotted across the field to Murray's +quarters. Ken used all his eyes as he went in. This was the sacred +precinct of the chosen athletes, and it was not open to any others. +He saw a small gymnasium, and adjoining it a large, bright room with +painted windows that let in the light, but could not be seen through. +Around the room on two sides were arranged huge box-like bins with holes +in the lids and behind them along the wall were steam-pipes. On the other +two sides were little zinc-lined rooms, with different kinds of pipes, +which Ken concluded were used for shower baths. Murray, the trainer, +was there, and two grinning negroes with towels over their shoulders, +and a little dried-up Scotchman who was all one smile. + +"Murray, here's my bunch. Look 'em over, and to-morrow start 'em in for +keeps," said Arthurs. + +"Well, Worry, they're not a bad-looking lot. Slim and trim. We won't +have to take off any beef. Here's Reddy Ray. I let you have him this +year, Worry, but the track team will miss him. And here's Peg Ward. +I was sure you'd pick him, Worry. And this is Homans, isn't it? I +remember you in the freshmen games. The rest of you boys I'll have +to get acquainted with. They say I'm a pretty hard fellow, but that's +on the outside. Now, hustle out of your suits, and we'll give you all +a good stew and a rub-down." + +What the stew was soon appeared plain to Ken. He was the first player +undressed, and Murray, lifting up one of the box-lids, pushed Ken inside. + +"Sit down and put your feet in that pan," he directed. "When I drop the +lid let your head come out the hole. There!" Then he wrapped a huge towel +around Ken's neck, being careful to tuck it close and tight. With that +he reached round to the back of the box and turned on the steam. + +Ken felt like a jack-in-the-box. The warm steam was pleasant. He looked +about him to see the other boys being placed in like positions. Raymond +had the box on one side, and Reddy Ray the one on the other. + +"It's great," said Ray, smiling at Ken. "You'll like it." + +Raymond looked scared. Ken wondered if the fellow ever got any enjoyment +out of things. Then Ken found himself attending to his own sensations. +The steam was pouring out of the pipe inside the box, and it was growing +wetter, thicker, and hotter. The pleasant warmth and tickling changed to +a burning sensation. Ken found himself bathed in a heavy sweat. Then he +began to smart in different places, and he was hard put to it to keep +rubbing them. The steam grew hotter; his body was afire; his breath +labored in great heaves. Ken felt that he must cry out. He heard +exclamations, then yells, from some of the other boxed-up players, +and he glanced quickly around. Reddy Ray was smiling, and did not +look at all uncomfortable. But Raymond was scarlet in the face, and +he squirmed his head to and fro. + +"_Ough!_" he bawled. "Let me out of here!" + +One of the negro attendants lifted the lid and helped Raymond out. +He danced about as if on hot bricks. His body was the color of a +boiled lobster. The attendant put him under one of the showers and +turned the water on. Raymond uttered one deep, low, "O-o-o-o!" Then +McCord begged to be let out; Weir's big head, with its shock of hair, +resembled that of an angry lion; little Trace screamed, and Duncan +yelled. + +"Peg, how're you?" asked Murray, walking up to Ken. "It's always pretty +hot the first few times. But afterward it's fine. Look at Reddy." + +"Murray, give Peg a good stewin'," put in Arthurs. "He's got a great +arm, and we must take care of it." + +Ken saw the other boys, except Ray, let out, and he simply could not +endure the steam any longer. + +"I've got--enough," he stammered. + +"Scotty, turn on a little more stew," ordered Murray, cheerfully; then +he rubbed his hand over Ken's face. "You're not hot yet." + +Scotty turned on more steam, and Ken felt it as a wet flame. He was +being flayed alive. + +"Please--please--let me out!" he implored. + +With a laugh Murray lifted the lid, and Ken hopped out. He was as red +as anything red he had ever seen. Then Scotty shoved him under a shower, +and as the icy water came down in a deluge Ken lost his breath, his +chest caved in, and he gasped. Scotty led him out into the room, dried +him with a towel, rubbed him down, and then, resting Ken's arm on his +shoulder, began to pat and beat and massage it. In a few moments Ken +thought his arm was a piece of live India rubber. He had never been in +such a glow. When he had dressed he felt as light as air, strong, fresh, +and keen for action. + +"Hustle now, Peg," said Arthurs. "Get your things packed. Supper to-night +at the trainin'-house." + +It was after dark when Ken got an expressman to haul his trunk to the +address on Spring Street. The house was situated about the middle of +a four-storied block, and within sight of Grant Field. Worry answered +his ring. + +"Here you are, Peg, the last one. I was beginnin' to worry about you. +Have your trunk taken right up, third floor back. Hurry down, for dinner +will be ready soon." + +Ken followed at the heels of the expressman up to his room. He was +surprised and somewhat taken back to find Raymond sitting upon the +bed. + +"Hello! excuse me," said Ken. "Guess I've got the wrong place." + +"The coach said you and I were to room together," returned Raymond. + +"Us? Room-mates?" ejaculated Ken. + +Raymond took offence at this. + +"Wull, I guess I can stand it," he growled. + +"I hope I can," was Ken's short reply. It was Ken's failing that he +could not help retaliating. But he was also as repentant as he was +quick-tempered. "Oh, I didn't mean that.... See here, Raymond, if +we've got to be room-mates--" + +Ken paused in embarrassment. + +"Wull, we're both on the varsity," said Raymond. + +"That's so," rejoined Ken, brightening. "It makes a whole lot of +difference, doesn't it?" + +Raymond got off the bed and looked at Ken. + +"What's your first name?" queried he. "I don't like 'Peg.'" + +"Kenneth. Ken, for short. What's yours?" + +"Mine's Kel. Wull, Ken--" + +Having gotten so far Raymond hesitated, and it was Ken who first +offered his hand. Raymond eagerly grasped it. That broke the ice. + +"Kel, I haven't liked your looks at all," said Ken, apologetically. + +"Ken, I've been going to lick you all spring." + +They went down-stairs arm in arm. + +It was with great interest and curiosity that Ken looked about the cozy +and comfortable rooms. The walls were adorned with pictures of varsity +teams and players, and the college colors were much in evidence. College +magazines and papers littered the table in the reading-room. + +"Boys, we'll be pretty snug and nice here when things get to runnin' +smooth. The grub will be plain, but plenty of it." + +There were twelve in all at the table, with the coach seated at the head. +The boys were hungry, and besides, as they had as yet had no chance to +become acquainted, the conversation lagged. The newness and strangeness, +however, did not hide the general air of suppressed gratification. After +dinner Worry called them all together in the reading-room. + +"Well, boys, here we are together like one big family, and we're shut +in for two months. Now, I know you've all been fightin' for places on +the team, and have had no chance to be friendly. It's always that way +in the beginnin', and I dare say there'll be some scraps among you +before things straighten out. We'll have more to say about that later. +The thing now is you're all varsity men, and I'm puttin' you on your +word of honor. Your word is good enough for me. Here's my rules, and +I'm more than usually particular this year, for reasons I'll tell later. + +"You're not to break trainin'. You're not to eat anything anywhere but +here. You're to cut out cigarettes and drinks. You're to be in bed at +ten o'clock. And I advise, although I ain't insistin', that if you have +any leisure time you'll spend most of it here. That's all." + +For Ken the three days following passed as so many hours. He did not in +the least dread the approaching game with State University, but his mind +held scarcely anything outside of Arthurs' coaching. The practice of the +players had been wholly different. It was as if they had been freed from +some binding spell. Worry kept them at fielding and batting for four full +hours every afternoon. Ken, after pitching to Dean for a while, batted +to the infield and so had opportunity to see the improvement. Graves was +brilliant at third, Weir was steady and sure at short, Raymond seemed +to have springs in his legs and pounced upon the ball with wonderful +quickness, and McCord fielded all his chances successfully. + +On the afternoon of the game Worry waited at the training-house until +all the players came down-stairs in uniform. + +"Boys, what's happened in the past doesn't count. We start over to-day. +I'm not goin' to say much or confuse you with complex team coachin'. +But I'm hopeful. I sort of think there's a nigger in the woodpile. I'll +tell you to-night if I'm right. Think of how you have been roasted by +the students. Play like tigers. Put out of your mind everything but +tryin'. Nothin' counts for you, boys. Errors are nothin'; mistakes +are nothin'. Play the game as one man. Don't think of yourselves. You +all know when you ought to hit or bunt or run. I'm trustin' you. I won't +say a word from the bench. And don't underrate our chances. Remember +that I think it's possible we may have somethin' up our sleeves. That's +all from me till after the game." + +Worry walked to Grant Field with Ken. He talked as they went along, but +not on baseball. The State team was already out and practising. Worry +kept Ken near him on the bench and closely watched the visitors in +practice. When the gong rang to call them in he sent his players out, +with a remark to Ken to take his warming-up easily. Ken thought he had +hardly warmed up at all before the coach called him in. + +"Peg, listen!" he whispered. His gaze seemed to hypnotize Ken. "Do you +have any idea what you'll do to this bunch from State?" + +"Why--no--I--" + +"Listen! I tell you I know they won't be able to touch you.... Size up +batters in your own way. If they look as if they'd pull or chop on a +curve, hand it up. If not, peg 'em a straight one over the inside corner, +high. If you get in a hole with runners on bases use that fast jump ball, +as hard as you can drive it, right over the pan.... Go in with perfect +confidence. I wouldn't say that to you, Peg, if I didn't feel it myself, +honestly. I'd say for you to do your best. But I've sized up these +State fellows, and they won't be able to touch you. Remember what I +say. That's all." + +"I'll remember," said Ken, soberly. + +When the umpire called the game there were perhaps fifty students in the +bleachers and a few spectators in the grand-stand, so poor an attendance +that the State players loudly voiced their derision. + +"Hey! boys," yelled one, "we drew a crowd last year, and look at that!" + +"It's Wayne's dub team," replied another. They ran upon the field as if +the result of the game was a foregone conclusion. Their pitcher, a lanky +individual, handled the ball with assurance. + +Homans led off for Wayne. He stood left-handed at the plate, and held +his bat almost in the middle. He did not swing, but poked at the first +ball pitched and placed a short hit over third. Raymond, also left-handed, +came next, and, letting two balls go, he bunted the third. Running fast, +he slid into first base and beat the throw. Homans kept swiftly on toward +third, drew the throw, and, sliding, was also safe. It was fast work, +and the Wayne players seemed to rise off the bench with the significance +of the play. Worry Arthurs looked on from under the brim of his hat, and +spoke no word. Then Reddy Ray stepped up. + +"They're all left-handed!" shouted a State player. The pitcher looked +at Reddy, then motioned for his outfielders to play deeper. With that +he delivered the ball, which the umpire called a strike. Reddy stood +still and straight while two more balls sped by, then he swung on the +next. A vicious low hit cut out over first base and skipped in great +bounds to the fence. Homans scored. Raymond turned second, going fast. +But it was Ray's speed that electrified the watching players. They +jumped up cheering. + +"Oh, see him run!" yelled Ken. + +He was on third before Raymond reached the plate. Weir lifted a high +fly to left field, and when the ball dropped into the fielder's hands +Ray ran home on the throw-in. Three runs had been scored in a twinkling. +It amazed the State team. They were not slow in bandying remarks among +themselves. "Fast! Who's that red-head? Is this your dub team? Get in +the game, boys!" They began to think more of playing ball and less of +their own superiority. Graves, however, and McCord following him, went +out upon plays to the infield. + +As Ken walked out toward the pitcher's box Homans put a hand on his arm, +and said: "Kid, put them all over. Don't waste any. Make every batter +hit. Keep your nerve. We're back of you out here." Then Reddy Ray, in +passing, spoke with a cool, quiet faith that thrilled Ken, "Peg, we've +got enough runs now to win." + +Ken faced the plate all in a white glow. He was far from calmness, but +it was a restless, fiery hurry for the action of the game. He remembered +the look in Worry's eyes, and every word that he had spoken rang in his +ears. Receiving the ball from the umpire, he stepped upon the slab with +a sudden, strange, deep tremor. It passed as quickly, and then he was +eying the first batter. He drew a long breath, standing motionless, with +all the significance of Worry's hope flashing before him, and then he +whirled and delivered the ball. The batter struck at it after it had +passed him, and it cracked in Dean's mitt. + +"Speed!" called the State captain. "Quick eye, there!" + +The batter growled some unintelligible reply. Then he fouled the second +ball, missed the next, and was out. The succeeding State player hit an +easy fly to Homans, and the next had two strikes called upon him, and +swung vainly at the third. + +Dean got a base on balls for Wayne, Trace went out trying to bunt, +and Ken hit into short, forcing Dean at second. Homans lined to third, +retiring the side. The best that the State players could do in their +half was for one man to send a weak grounder to Raymond, one to fly out, +and the other to fail on strikes. Wayne went to bat again, and Raymond +got his base by being hit by a pitched ball. Reddy Ray bunted and was +safe. Weir struck out. Graves rapped a safety through short, scoring +Raymond, and sending Ray to third. Then McCord fouled out to the catcher. +Again, in State's inning, they failed to get on base, being unable to +hit Ken effectively. + +So the game progressed, State slowly losing its aggressive playing, and +Wayne gaining what its opponents had lost. In the sixth Homans reached +his base on an error, stole second, went to third on Raymond's sacrifice, +and scored on Reddy's drive to right. State flashed up in their half, +getting two men to first on misplays of McCord and Weir, and scored a +run on a slow hit to Graves. + +With the bases full, Ken let his arm out and pitched the fast ball at +the limit of his speed. The State batters were helpless before it, but +they scored two runs on passed strikes by Dean. The little catcher had +a hard time judging Ken's jump ball. That ended the run-getting for +State, though they came near scoring again on more fumbling in the +infield. In the eighth Ken landed a safe fly over second, and tallied +on a double by Homans. + +Before Ken knew the game was half over it had ended--Wayne 6, State 3. +His players crowded around him and some one called for the Wayne yell. +It was given with wild vehemence. + +From that moment until dinner was over at the training-house Ken +appeared to be the centre of a humming circle. What was said and +done he never remembered. Then the coach stopped the excitement. + +"Boys, now for a heart-to-heart talk," he said, with a smile both happy +and grave. "We won to-day, as I predicted. State had a fairly strong team, +but if Ward had received perfect support they would not have got a man +beyond second. That's the only personal mention I'll make. Now, listen...." + +He paused, with his eyes glinting brightly and his jaw quivering. + +"I expected to win, but before the game I never dreamed of our +possibilities. I got a glimpse now of what hard work and a demon +spirit to play together might make this team. I've had an inspiration. +We are goin' to beat Herne and play Place to a standstill." + +Not a boy moved an eyelash as Arthurs made this statement, +and the sound of a pin dropping could have been heard. + +"To do that we must pull together as no boys ever pulled together +before. We must be all one heart. We must be actuated by one spirit. +Listen! If you will stick together and to me, I'll make a team that +will be a wonder. Never the hittin' team as good as last year's varsity, +but a faster team, a finer machine. Think of that! Think of how we have +been treated this year! For that we'll win all the greater glory. It's +worth all there is in you, boys. You would have the proudest record of +any team that ever played for old Wayne. + +"I love the old college, boys, and I've given it the best years of my +life. If it's anything to you, why, understand that if I fail to build +up a good team this year I shall be let go by those directors who have +made the change in athletics. I could stand that, but--I've a boy of +my own who's preparin' for Wayne, and my heart is set on seein' him +enter--and he said he never will if they let me go. So, you youngsters +and me--we've much to gain. Go to your rooms now and think, think as +you never did before, until the spirit of this thing, the possibility +of it, grips you as it has me." + + + + +XII + +KEN CLASHES WITH GRAVES + + +Two weeks after the contest with State University four more games +with minor colleges had been played and won by Wayne. Hour by hour +the coach had drilled the players; day by day the grilling practice +told in quickening grasp of team-play, in gradual correction of +erratic fielding and wild throwing. Every game a few more students +attended, reluctantly, in half-hearted manner. + +"We're comin' with a rush," said Worry to Ken. "Say, but Dale and the +old gang have a surprise in store for 'em! And the students--they're +goin' to drop dead pretty soon.... Peg, Murray tells me he's puttin' +weight on you." + +"Why, yes, it's the funniest thing," replied Ken. "To-day I weighed +one hundred and sixty-four. Worry, I'm afraid I'm getting fat." + +"Fat, nothin'," snorted Worry. "It's muscle. I told Murray to put beef +on you all he can. Pretty soon you'll be able to peg a ball through the +back-stop. Dean's too light, Peg. He's plucky and will make a catcher, +but he's too light. You're batterin' him all up." + +Worry shook his head seriously. + +"Oh, he's fine!" exclaimed Ken. "I'm not afraid any more. He digs my +drop out of the dust, and I can't get a curve away from him. He's weak +only on the jump ball, and I don't throw that often, only when I let +drive." + +"You'll be usin' that often enough against Herne and Place. I'm dependin' +on that for those games. Peg, are you worryin' any, losin' any sleep, over +those games?" + +"Indeed I'm not," replied Ken, laughing. + +"Say, I wish you'd have a balloon ascension, and have it quick. It ain't +natural, Peg, for you not to get a case of rattles. It's comin' to you, +and I don't want it in any of the big games." + +"I don't want it either. But Worry, pitching is all a matter of control, +you say so often. I don't believe I could get wild and lose my control if +I tried." + +"Peg, you sure have the best control of any pitcher I ever coached. It's +your success. It'll make a great pitcher out of you. All you've got to +learn is where to pitch 'em to Herne and Place." + +"How am I to learn that?" + +"Listen!" Worry whispered. "I'm goin' to send you to Washington next week +to see Place and Herne play Georgetown. You'll pay your little money and +sit in the grand-stand right behind the catcher. You'll have a pencil and a +score card, and you'll be enjoyin' the game. But, Peg, you'll also be usin' +your head, and when you see one of 'em players pull away on a curve, or hit +weak on a drop, or miss a high fast one, or slug a low ball, you will jot +it down on your card. You'll watch Place's hard hitters with hawk eyes, +my boy, and a pitcher's memory. And when they come along to Grant Field +you'll have 'em pretty well sized up." + +"That's fine, Worry, but is it fair?" queried Ken. + +"Fair? Why, of course. They all do it. We saw Place's captain in the +grand-stand here last spring." + +The coach made no secret of his pride and faith in Ken. It was this, +perhaps, as much as anything, which kept Ken keyed up. For Ken was +really pitching better ball than he knew how to pitch. He would have +broken his arm for Worry; he believed absolutely in what the coach +told him; he did not think of himself at all. + +Worry, however, had plenty of enthusiasm for his other players. Every +evening after dinner he would call them all about him and talk for an +hour. Sometimes he would tell funny baseball stories; again, he told of +famous Wayne-Place games, and how they had been won or lost; then at other +times he dwelt on the merits and faults of his own team. In speaking of +the swift development of this year's varsity he said it was as remarkable +as it had been unforeseen. He claimed it would be a bewildering surprise +to Wayne students and to the big college teams. He was working toward +the perfection of a fast run-getting machine. In the five games already +played and won a good idea could be gotten of Wayne's team, individually +and collectively. Homans was a scientific short-field hitter and remarkably +sure. Raymond could not bat, but he had developed into a wonder in reaching +first base, by bunt or base on balls, or being hit. Reddy Ray was a hard +and timely batter, and when he got on base his wonderful fleetness made +him almost sure to score. Of the other players Graves batted the best; +but taking the team as a whole, and comparing them with Place or Herne, +it appeared that Reddy and Homans were the only great hitters, and the +two of them, of course, could not make a great hitting team. In fielding, +however, the coach said he had never seen the like. They were all fast, +and Homans was perfect in judgment on fly balls, and Raymond was quick +as lightning to knock down base hits, and as to the intercollegiate +sprinter in left field, it was simply a breath-taking event to see him +run after a ball. Last of all was Ken Ward with his great arm. It was a +strangely assorted team, Worry said, one impossible to judge at the moment, +but it was one to watch. + +"Boys, we're comin' with a rush," he went on to say. "But somethin's +holdin' us back a little. There's no lack of harmony, yet there's a +drag. In spite of the spirit you've shown--and I want to say it's been +great--the team doesn't work together as one man _all_ the time. I advise +you all to stick closer together. Stay away from the club, and everywhere +except lectures. We've got to be closer 'n brothers. It'll all work out +right before we go up against Herne in June. That game's comin', boys, +and by that time the old college will be crazy. It'll be _our_ turn then." + +Worry's talks always sank deeply into Ken's mind and set him to thinking +and revolving over and over the gist of them so that he could remember +to his profit. + +He knew that some of the boys had broken training, and he pondered if that +was what caused the drag Worry mentioned. Ken had come to feel the life +and fortunes of the varsity so keenly that he realized how the simplest +deviations from honor might affect the smooth running of the team. It must +be perfectly smooth. And to make it so every player must be of one mind. + +Ken proved to himself how lack of the highest spirit on the part of one +or two of the team tended toward the lowering of the general spirit. For +he began to worry, and almost at once it influenced his playing. He found +himself growing watchful of his comrades and fearful of what they might +be doing. He caught himself being ashamed of his suspicions. He would as +lief have cut off his hand as break his promise to the coach. Perhaps, +however, he exaggerated his feeling and sense of duty. He remembered the +scene in Dale's room the night he refused to smoke and drink; how Dale +had commended his refusal. Nevertheless, he gathered from Dale's remark +to Worry that breaking training was not unusual or particularly harmful. + +"With Dale's team it might not have been so bad," thought Ken. "But it's +different with us. We've got to make up in spirit what we lack in ability." + +Weir and McCord occupied the room next to Ken's, and Graves and Trace, +rooming together, were also on that floor. Ken had tried with all his +might to feel friendly toward the third-baseman. He had caught Graves +carrying cake and pie to his room and smoking cigarettes with the window +open. One night Graves took cigarettes from his pocket and offered them +to Kel, Trace, and Ken, who all happened to be in Ken's room at the time. +Trace readily accepted; Kel demurred at first, but finally took one. +Graves then tossed the pack to Ken. + +"No, I don't smoke. Besides, it's breaking training," said Ken. + +"You make me sick, Ward," retorted Graves. "You're a wet blanket. Do you +think we're going to be as sissy as that? It's hard enough to stand the +grub we get here, without giving up a little smoke." + +Ken made no reply, but he found it difficult to smother a hot riot in his +breast. When the other boys had gone to their rooms Ken took Kel to task +about his wrong-doing. + +"Do you think that's the right sort of thing? What would Worry say?" + +"Ken, I don't care about it, not a bit," replied Kel, flinging his +cigarette out of the window. "But Graves is always asking me to do +things--I hate to refuse. It seems so--" + +"Kel, if Worry finds it out you'll lose your place on the team." + +"No!" exclaimed Raymond, staring. + +"Mark what I say. I wish you'd stop letting Graves coax you into things." + +"Ken, he's always smuggling pie and cake and candy into his room. I've +had some of it. Trace said he'd brought in something to drink, too." + +"It's a shame," cried Ken, in anger. "I never liked him and I've tried +hard to change it. Now I'm glad I couldn't." + +"He doesn't have any use for you," replied Kel. "He's always running +you down to the other boys. What'd you ever do to him, Ken?" + +"Oh, it was that potato stunt of mine last fall. He's a Soph, and I hit +him, I guess." + +"I think it's more than that," went on Raymond. "Anyway, you look out +for him, because he's aching to spoil your face." + +"He is, is he?" snapped Ken. + +Ken was too angry to talk any more, and so the boys went to bed. The next +few days Ken discovered that either out of shame or growing estrangement +Raymond avoided him, and he was bitterly hurt. He had come to like the +little second-baseman, and had hoped they would be good friends. It was +easy to see that Graves became daily bolder, and more lax in training, +and his influence upon several of the boys grew stronger. And when Dean, +Schoonover, and Duncan appeared to be joining the clique, Ken decided he +would have to talk to some one, so he went up to see Ray and Homans. + +The sprinter was alone, sitting by his lamp, with books and notes spread +before him. + +"Hello, Peg! come in. You look a little glum. What's wrong?" + +Reddy Ray seemed like an elder brother to Ken, and he found himself +blurting out his trouble. Ray looked thoughtful, and after a moment +he replied in his quiet way: + +"Peg, it's new to you, but it's an old story to me. The track and crew +men seldom break training, which is more than can be said of the other +athletes. It seems to me baseball fellows are the most careless. They +really don't have to train so conscientiously. It's only a kind of form." + +"But it's different this year," burst out Ken. "You know what Worry said, +and how he trusts us." + +"You're right, Peg, only you mustn't take it so hard. Things will work +out all right. Homans and I were talking about that to-day. You see, +Worry wants the boys to elect a captain soon. But perhaps he has not +confided in you youngsters. He will suggest that you elect Homans or +me. Well, I won't run for the place, so it'll be Homans. He's the man +to captain us, that's certain. Graves thinks, though, that he can pull +the wires and be elected captain. He's way off. Besides, Peg, he's +making a big mistake. Worry doesn't like him, and when he finds out +about this break in training we'll have a new third-baseman. No doubt +Blake will play the bag. Graves is the only drag in Worry's baseball +machine now, and he'll not last.... So, Peg, don't think any more about +it. Mind you, the whole team circles round you. You're the pivot, and +as sure as you're born you'll be Wayne's captain next year. That's +something for you to keep in mind and work for. If Graves keeps after +you--hand him one! That's not against rules. Punch him! If Worry knew +the truth he would pat you on the back for slugging Graves. Cheer up, +Peg! Even if Graves has got all the kids on his side, which I doubt, +Homans and I are with you. And you can just bet that Worry Arthurs will +side with us.... Now run along, for I must study." + +This conversation was most illuminating to Ken. He left Reddy's room +all in a quiver of warm pleasure and friendliness at the great sprinter's +quiet praise and advice. To make such a friend was worth losing a hundred +friends like Graves. He dismissed the third-baseman and his scheming from +mind, and believed Reddy as he had believed Arthurs. But Ken thought much +of what he divined was a glimmering of the inside workings of a college +baseball team. He had one wild start of rapture at the idea of becoming +captain of Wayne's varsity next year, and then he dared think no more +of that. + +The day dawned for Ken to go to Washington, and he was so perturbed at +his responsibilities that he quite forgot to worry about the game Wayne +had to play in his absence. Arthurs intended to pitch Schoonover in that +game, and had no doubt as to its outcome. The coach went to the station +with Ken, once more repeated his instructions, and saw him upon the +train. Certainly there was no more important personage on board that +Washington Limited than Ken Ward. In fact, Ken was so full of importance +and responsibility that he quite divided his time between foolish pride +in his being chosen to "size up" the great college teams and fearful +conjecture as to his ability. + +At any rate, the time flew by, the trip seemed short, and soon he was +on the Georgetown field. It was lucky that he arrived early and got +a seat in the middle of the grand-stand, for there was a throng in +attendance when the players came on the diamond. The noisy bleachers, +the merry laughter, the flashing colors, and especially the bright +gowns and pretty faces of the girls gave Ken pleasurable consciousness +of what it would mean to play before such a crowd. At Wayne he had +pitched to empty seats. Remembering Worry's prophecy, however, he +was content to wait. + +From that moment his duty absorbed him. He found it exceedingly +fascinating to study the batters, and utterly forgot his responsibility. +Not only did he jot down on his card his idea of the weakness and +strength of the different hitters, but he compared what he would have +pitched to them with what was actually pitched. Of course, he had no +test of his comparison, but he felt intuitively that he had the better +of it. Watching so closely, Ken had forced home to him Arthurs' repeated +assertion that control of the ball made a pitcher. Both pitchers in this +game were wild. Locating the plate with them was more a matter of luck +than ability. The Herne pitcher kept wasting balls and getting himself +in the hole, and then the heavy Georgetown players would know when he +had to throw a strike, if he could, and accordingly they hit hard. +They beat Herne badly. + +The next day in the game with Place it was a different story. Ken +realized he was watching a great team. They reminded him of Dale's +varsity, though they did not play that fiendish right-field-hitting +game. Ken had a numbness come over him at the idea of facing this +Place team. It soon passed, for they had their vulnerable places. +It was not so much that they hit hard on speed and curves, for they +got them where they wanted them. Keene flied out on high fast balls +over the inside corner; Starke bit on low drops; Martin was weak on +a slow ball; MacNeff, the captain, could not touch speed under his +chin, and he always struck at it. On the other hand, he killed a low +ball. Prince was the only man who, in Ken's judgment, seemed to have +no weakness. These men represented the batting strength of Place, and +Ken, though he did not in the least underestimate them, had no fear. +He would have liked to pitch against them right there. + +"It's all in control of the ball," thought Ken. "Here are seventeen +bases on balls in two games--four pitchers. They're wild.... But +suppose I got wild, too?" + +The idea made Ken shiver. + +He travelled all night, sleeping on the train, and got home to the +training-house about nine the next morning. Worry was out, Scotty said, +and the boys had all gone over to college. Ken went up-stairs and found +Raymond in bed. + +"Why, Kel, what's the matter?" asked Ken. + +"I'm sick," replied Kel. He was pale and appeared to be in distress. + +"Oh, I'm sorry. Can't I do something? Get you some medicine? Call Murray?" + +"Ken, don't call anybody, unless you want to see me disgraced. Worry +got out this morning before he noticed my absence from breakfast. I was +scared to death." + +"Scared? Disgraced?" + +"Ken, I drank a little last night. It always makes me sick. You know +I've a weak stomach." + +"Kel, you didn't drink, _say_ you didn't!" implored Ken, sitting +miserably down on the bed. + +"Yes, I did. I believe I was half drunk. I can't stand anything. +I'm sick, sick of myself, too, this morning. And I hate Graves." + +Ken jumped up with kindling eyes. + +"Kel, you've gone back on me--we'd started to be such friends--I tried +to persuade you--" + +"I know. I'm sorry, Ken. But I really liked you best. I was--you know +how it is, Ken. If only Worry don't find it out!" + +"Tell him," said Ken, quickly. + +"What?" groaned Kel, in fright. + +"Tell him. Let me tell him for you." + +"No--no--no. He'd fire me off the team, and I couldn't stand that." + +"I'll bet Worry wouldn't do anything of the kind. Maybe he knows +more than you think." + +"I'm afraid to tell him, Ken. I just can't tell him." + +"But you gave your word of honor not to break training. The only +thing left is to confess." + +"I won't tell, Ken. It's not so much my own place on the team--there +are the other fellows." + +Ken saw that it was no use to argue with Raymond while he was so sick +and discouraged, so he wisely left off talking and did his best to make +him comfortable. Raymond dropped asleep after a little, and when he +awakened just before lunch-time he appeared better. + +"I won't be able to practise to-day," he said; "but I'll go down to lunch." + +As he was dressing the boys began to come in from college and ran whistling +up the stairs. + +Graves bustled into the room with rather anxious haste. + +"How're you feeling?" he asked. + +"Pretty rocky. Graves--I told Ward about it," said Raymond. + +Upon his hurried entrance Graves had not observed Ken. + +"What did you want to do that for?" he demanded, arrogantly. + +Raymond looked at him, but made no reply. + +"Ward, I suppose you'll squeal," said Graves, sneeringly. "That'll +about be your speed." + +Ken rose and, not trusting himself to speak, remained silent. + +"You sissy!" cried Graves, hotly. "Will you peach on us to Arthurs?" + +"No. But if you don't get out of my room I'll hand you one," +replied Ken, his voice growing thick. + +Graves's face became red as fire. + +"What? Why, you white-faced, white-haired freshman! I've been aching +to punch you!" + +"Well, why don't you commence?" + +With the first retort Ken had felt a hot trembling go over him, +and having yielded to his anger he did not care what happened. + +"Ken--Graves," pleaded Raymond, white as a sheet. "Don't--please!" +He turned from one to the other. "Don't scrap!" + +"Graves, it's up to some one to call you, and I'm going to do it," +said Ken, passionately. "You've been after me all season, but I +wouldn't care for that. It's your rotten influence on Kel and the +other boys that makes me wild. You are the drag in this baseball +team. You are a crack ball-player, but you don't know what college +spirit means. You're a mucker!" + +"I'll lick you for that!" raved Graves, shaking his fists. + +"You can't lick me!" + +"Come outdoors. I dare you to come outdoors. I dare you!" + +Ken strode out of the room and started down the hall. "Come on!" +he called, grimly, and ran down the stairs. Graves hesitated a +moment, then followed. + +Raymond suddenly called after them: + +"Give it to him, Ken! Slug him! Beat him all up!" + + + + +XIII + +FRIENDSHIP + + +A half-hour or less afterward Ken entered the training-house. It chanced +that the boys, having come in, were at the moment passing through the +hall to the dining-room, and with them was Worry Arthurs. + +"Hello! you back? What's the matter with you?" demanded the coach. + +Ken's lips were puffed and bleeding, and his chin was bloody. Sundry +red and dark marks disfigured his usually clear complexion. His eyes +were blazing, and his hair rumpled down over his brow. + +"You've been in a scrap," declared Worry. + +"I know it," said Ken. "Let me go up and wash." + +Worry had planted himself at the foot of the stairway in front of Ken. +The boys stood silent and aghast. Suddenly there came thumps upon the +stairs, and Raymond appeared, jumping down three steps at a time. He +dodged under Worry's arm and plunged at Ken to hold him with both hands. + +"Ken! You're all bloody!" he exclaimed, in great excitement. "He didn't +lick you? Say he didn't! He's got to fight me, too! You're all bunged up!" + +"Wait till you see him!" muttered Ken. + +"A-huh!" said Worry. "Been scrappin' with Graves! What for?" + +"It's a personal matter," replied Ken. + +"Come, no monkey-biz with me," said the coach, sharply. "Out with it!" + +There was a moment's silence. + +"Mr. Arthurs, it's my fault," burst out Raymond, flushed and eager. +"Ken was fighting on my account." + +"It wasn't anything of the kind," retorted Ken, vehemently. + +"Yes it was," cried Raymond, "and I'm going to tell why." + +The hall door opened to admit Graves. He was dishevelled, dirty, +battered, and covered with blood. When he saw the group in the hall +he made as if to dodge out. + +"Here, come on! Take your medicine," called Worry, tersely. + +Graves shuffled in, cast down and sheepish, a very different fellow +from his usual vaunting self. + +"Now, Raymond, what's this all about?" demanded Worry. + +Raymond changed color, but he did not hesitate an instant. + +"Ken came in this morning and found me sick in bed. I told him I had +been half drunk last night--and that Graves had gotten me to drink. +Then Graves came in. He and Ken had hard words. They went outdoors +to fight." + +"Would you have told me?" roared the coach in fury. "Would you have +come to me with this if I hadn't caught Peg?" + +Raymond faced him without flinching. + +"At first I thought not--when Ken begged me to confess I just couldn't. +But now I know I would." + +At that Worry lost his sudden heat, and then he turned to the stricken +Graves. + +"Mebbe it'll surprise you, Graves, to learn that I knew a little of +what you've been doin'. I told Homans to go to you in a quiet way and +tip off your mistake. I hoped you'd see it. But you didn't. Then +you've been knockin' Ward all season, for no reason I could discover +but jealousy. Now, listen! Peg Ward has done a lot for me already this +year, and he'll do more. But even if he beats Place, it won't mean any +more to me than the beatin' he's given you. Now, you pack your things +and get out of here. There's no position for you on this varsity." + +Without a word in reply and amid intense silence Graves went slowly +up-stairs. When he disappeared Worry sank into a chair, and looked as +if he was about to collapse. Little Trace walked hesitatingly forward +with the manner of one propelled against his will. + +"Mr. Arthurs, I--I," he stammered--"I'm guilty, too. I broke training. +I want to--" + +The coach waved him back. "I don't want to hear it, not another +word--from anybody. It's made me sick. I can't stand any more. +Only I see I've got to change my rules. There won't be any rules +any more. You can all do as you like. I'd rather have you all go +stale than practise deceit on me. I cut out the trainin' rules." + +"_No!_" The team rose up as one man and flung the refusal at the coach. + +"Worry, we won't stand for that," spoke up Reddy Ray. His smooth, cool +voice was like oil on troubled waters. "I think Homans and I can answer +for the kids from now on. Graves was a disorganizer--that's the least +I'll say of him. We'll elect Homans captain of the team, and then we'll +cut loose like a lot of demons. It's been a long, hard drill for you, +Worry, but we're in the stretch now and going to finish fast. We've +been a kind of misfit team all spring. You've had a blind faith that +something could be made out of us. Homans has waked up to our hidden +strength. And I go further than that. I've played ball for years. I +know the game. I held down left field for two seasons on the greatest +college team ever developed out West. That's new to you. Well, it gives +me license to talk a little. I want to tell you that I can _feel_ what's +in this team. It's like the feeling I have when I'm running against a +fast man in the sprints. From now on we'll be a family of brothers with +one idea. And that'll be to play Place off their feet." + +Coach Arthurs sat up as if he had been given the elixir of life. +Likewise the members of the team appeared to be under the spell +of a powerful stimulus. The sprinter's words struck fire from +all present. + +Homans' clear gray eyes were like live coals. "Boys! One rousing cheer +for Worry Arthurs and for Wayne!" + +Lusty, strained throats let out the cheer with a deafening roar. + +It was strange and significant at that moment to see Graves, white-faced +and sullen, come down the stairs and pass through the hall and out of the +door. It was as if discord, selfishness, and wavering passed out with him. +Arthurs and Homans and Ray could not have hoped for a more striking lesson +to the young players. + +Dave, the colored waiter, appeared in the doorway of the dining-room. +"Mr. Arthurs, I done call yo' all. Lunch is sho' gittin' cold." + +That afternoon Wayne played the strong Hornell University nine. + +Blake, new at third base for Wayne, was a revelation. He was all legs +and arms. Weir accepted eight chances. Raymond, sick or not, was all +over the infield, knocking down grounders, backing up every play. To +McCord, balls in the air or at his feet were all the same. Trace caught +a foul fly right off the bleachers. Homans fielded with as much speed +as the old varsity's centre and with better judgment. Besides, he made +four hits and four runs. Reddy Ray drove one ball into the bleachers, +and on a line-drive to left field he circled the bases in time that +Murray said was wonderful. Dean stood up valiantly to his battering, +and for the first game had no passed balls. And Ken Ward whirled +tirelessly in the box, and one after another he shot fast balls over +the plate. He made the Hornell players hit; he had no need to extend +himself to the use of the long swing and whip of his arm that produced +the jump ball; and he shut them out without a run, and gave them only +two safe hits. All through the game Worry Arthurs sat on the bench +without giving an order or a sign. His worried look had vanished with +the crude playing of his team. + +That night the Hornell captain, a veteran player of unquestionable +ability, was entertained at Carlton Club by Wayne friends, and he +expressed himself forcibly: "We came over to beat Wayne's weak team. +It'll be some time till we discover what happened. Young Ward has the +most magnificent control and speed. He's absolutely relentless. And +that frog-legged second-baseman--oh, say, can't he cover ground! Homans +is an all-round star. Then, your red-headed Ray, the sprinter--he's a +marvel. Ward, Homans, Ray--they're demons, and they're making demons +of the kids. I can't understand why Wayne students don't support their +team. It's strange." + +What the Hornell captain said went from lip to lip throughout the club, +and then it spread, like a flame in wind-blown grass, from club to +dormitory, and thus over all the university. + +"Boys, the college is wakin' up," said Worry, rubbing his hands. +"Yesterday's game jarred 'em. They can't believe their own ears. Why, +Hornell almost beat Dale's team last spring. Now, kids, look out. We'll +stand for no fussin' over us. We don't want any jollyin'. We've waited +long for encouragement. It didn't come, and now we'll play out the +string alone. There'll be a rush to Grant Field. It cuts no ice with +us. Let 'em come to see the boys they hissed and guyed early in the +spring. We'll show 'em a few things. We'll make 'em speechless. We'll +make 'em so ashamed they won't know what to do. We'll repay all their +slights by beatin' Place." + +Worry was as excited as on the day he discovered that Ken was a pitcher. + +"One more word, boys," he went on. "Keep together now. Run back here to +your rooms as quick as you get leave from college. Be civil when you are +approached by students, but don't mingle, not yet. Keep to yourselves. +Your reward is comin'. It'll be great. Only wait!" + +And that was the last touch of fire which moulded Worry's players into +a family of brothers. Close and warm and fine was the culmination of +their friendship. On the field they were dominated by one impulse, +almost savage in its intensity. When they were off the field the +springs of youth burst forth to flood the hours with fun. + +In the mornings when the mail-man came there was always a wild scramble +for letters. And it developed that Weir received more than his share. +He got mail every day, and his good-fortune could not escape the lynx +eyes of his comrades. Nor could the size and shape of the envelope and +the neat, small handwriting fail to be noticed. Weir always stole off +by himself to read his daily letter, trying to escape a merry chorus of +tantalizing remarks. + +"Oh! Sugar!" + +"Dreamy Eyes!" + +"Gawge, the pink letter has come!" + +Weir's reception of these sallies earned him the name of Puff. + +One morning, for some unaccountable reason, Weir did not get down-stairs +when the mail arrived. Duncan got the pink letter, scrutinized the writing +closely, and put the letter in his coat. Presently Weir came bustling down. + +"Who's got the mail?" he asked, quickly. + +"No letters this morning," replied some one. + +"Is this Sunday?" asked Weir, rather stupidly. + +"Nope. I meant no letters for you." + +Weir looked blank, then stunned, then crestfallen. Duncan handed out the +pink envelope. The boys roared, and Weir strode off in high dudgeon. + +That day Duncan purchased a box of pink envelopes, and being expert with +a pen, he imitated the neat handwriting and addressed pink envelopes to +every boy in the training-house. Next morning no one except Weir seemed +in a hurry to answer the postman's ring. He came in with the letters and +his jaw dropping. It so happened that his letter was the very last one, +and when he got to it the truth flashed over him. Then the peculiar +appropriateness of the nickname Puff was plainly manifest. One by one +the boys slid off their chairs to the floor, and at last Weir had to +join in the laugh on him. + +Each of the boys in turn became the victim of some prank. Raymond +betrayed Ken's abhorrence of any kind of perfume, and straightway +there was a stealthy colloquy. Cheap perfume of a most penetrating +and paralyzing odor was liberally purchased. In Ken's absence from +his room all the clothing that he did not have on his back was +saturated. Then the conspirators waited for him to come up the +stoop, and from their hiding-place in a window of the second floor +they dropped an extra quart upon him. + +Ken vowed vengeance that would satisfy him thrice over, and he bided +his time until he learned who had perpetrated the outrage. + +One day after practice his opportunity came. Raymond, Weir, and Trace, +the guilty ones, went with Ken to the training quarters to take the +steam bath that Murray insisted upon at least once every week. It so +turned out that the four were the only players there that afternoon. +While the others were undressing, Ken bribed Scotty to go out on an +errand, and he let Murray into his scheme. Now, Murray not only had +acquired a strong liking for Ken, but he was exceedingly fond of a joke. + +"All I want to know," whispered Ken, "is if I might stew them too +much--really scald them, you know?" + +"No danger," whispered Murray. "That'll be the fun of it. You can't +hurt them. But they'll think they're dying." + +He hustled Raymond, Weir, and Trace into the tanks and fastened the lids, +and carefully tucked towels round their necks to keep in the steam. + +"Lots of stew to-day," he said, turning the handles. "Hello! Where's +Scotty?... Peg, will you watch these boys a minute while I step out?" + +"You bet I will," called Ken to the already disappearing Murray. + +The three cooped-in boys looked askance at Ken. + +"Wull, I'm not much stuck--" Raymond began glibly enough, and then, +becoming conscious that he might betray an opportunity to Ken, he +swallowed his tongue. + +"What'd you say?" asked Ken, pretending curiosity. Suddenly he began +to jump up and down. "Oh, my! Hullabelee! Schoodoorady! What a chance! +You gave it away!" + +"Look what he's doing!" yelled Trace. + +"Hyar!" added Weir. + +"Keep away from those pipes!" chimed in Raymond. + +"Boys, I've been laying for you, but I never thought I'd get a chance +like this. If Murray only stays out three minutes--just three minutes!" + +"Three minutes! You idiot, you won't keep us in here that long?" +asked Weir, in alarm. + +"Oh no, not at all.... Puff, I think you can stand a little more steam." + +Ken turned the handle on full. + +"Kel, a first-rate stewing will be good for your daily grouch." + +To the accompaniment of Raymond's threats he turned the second handle. + +"Trace, you little poll-parrot, you will throw perfume on me? Now roast!" + +The heads of the imprisoned boys began to jerk and bob around, and +their faces to take on a flush. Ken leisurely surveyed them and then +did an Indian war-dance in the middle of the room. + +"Here, let me out! Ken, you know how delicate I am," implored Raymond. + +"I couldn't entertain the idea for a second," replied Ken. + +"I'll lick you!" yelled Raymond. + +"My lad, you've got a brain-storm," returned Ken, in grieved tones. +"Not in the wildest flights of your nightmares have you ever said +anything so impossible as that." + +"Ken, dear Ken, dear old Peggie," cried Trace, "you know I've got a +skinned place on my hip where I slid yesterday. Steam isn't good for +that, Worry says. He'll be sore. You must let me out." + +"I intend to see, Willie, that you'll be sore too, and skinned all over," +replied Ken. + +"Open this lid! At once!" roared Weir, in sudden anger. His big +eyes rolled. + +"Bah!" taunted Ken. + +Then all three began to roar at Ken at once. "Brute! Devil! +Help! Help! Help! We'll fix you for this!... It's hotter! +it's fire! Aghh! Ouch! Oh! Ah-h-h!... O-o-o-o!... Murder! MURDER-R!" + +At this juncture Murray ran in. + +"What on earth! Peg, what did you do?" + +"I only turned on the steam full tilt," replied Ken, innocently. + +"Why, you shouldn't have done that," said Murray, in pained astonishment. + +"Stop talking about it! Let me out!" shrieked Raymond. + +Ken discreetly put on his coat and ran from the room. + + + + +XIV + +THE HERNE GAME + + +On the morning of the first of June, the day scheduled for the opening +game with Herne, Worry Arthurs had Ken Ward closeted with Homans and +Reddy Ray. Worry was trying his best to be soberly calculating in regard +to the outcome of the game. He was always trying to impress Ken with the +uncertainty of baseball. But a much younger and less observing boy than +Ken could have seen through the coach. Worry was dead sure of the result, +certain that the day would see a great gathering of Wayne students, and +he could not hide his happiness. And the more he betrayed himself the +more he growled at Ken. + +"Well, we ain't goin' to have that balloon-ascension to-day, are we?" +he demanded. "Here we've got down to the big games, and you haven't +been up in the air yet. I tell you it ain't right." + +"But, Worry, I couldn't go off my head and get rattled just to please +you, could I?" implored Ken. To Ken this strain of the coach's had grown +to be as serious as it was funny. + +"Aw! talk sense," said Worry. "Why, you haven't pitched to a college +crowd yet. Wait! Wait till you see that crowd over to Place next week! +Thousands of students crazier 'n Indians, and a flock of girls that'll +make you bite your tongue off. Ten thousand yellin' all at once." + +"Let them yell," replied Ken; "I'm aching to pitch before a crowd. +It has been pretty lonesome at Grant Field all season." + +"Let 'em yell, eh?" retorted Worry. "All right, my boy, it's comin' to +you. And if you lose your nut and get slammed all over the lot, don't +come to me for sympathy." + +"I wouldn't. I can take a licking. Why, Worry, you talk as if--as if I'd +done something terrible. What's the matter with me? I've done every single +thing you wanted--just as well as I could do it. What are you afraid of?" + +"You're gettin' swelled on yourself," said the coach, deliberately. + +The blood rushed to Ken's face until it was scarlet. He was so astounded +and hurt that he could not speak. Worry looked at him once, then turning +hastily away, he walked to the window. + +"Peg, it ain't much wonder," he went on, smoothly, "and I'm not holdin' +it against you. But I want you to forget yourself--" + +"I've never had a thought of myself," retorted Ken, hotly. + +"I want you to go in to-day like--like an automatic machine," went +on Worry, as if Ken had not spoken. "There'll be a crowd out, the +first of the season. Mebbe they'll throw a fit. Anyway, it's our first +big game. As far as the university goes, this is our trial. The students +are up in the air; they don't know what to think. Mebbe there won't be +a cheer at first.... But, Peg, if we beat Herne to-day they'll tear down +the bleachers." + +"Well, all I've got to say is that you can order new lumber for the +bleachers--because we're going to win," replied Ken, with a smouldering +fire in his eyes. + +"There you go again! If you're not stuck on yourself, it's too much +confidence. You won't be so chipper about three this afternoon, mebbe. +Listen! The Herne players got into town last night, and some of them +talked a little. It's just as well you didn't see the morning papers. +It came to me straight that Gallagher, the captain, and Stern, the +first-baseman, said you were pretty good for a kid freshman, but a +little too swelled to stand the gaff in a big game. They expect you +to explode before the third innin'. I wasn't goin' to tell you, Peg, +but you're so--" + +"They said that, did they?" cried Ken. He jumped up with paling cheek +and blazing eye, and the big hand he shoved under Worry's nose trembled +like a shaking leaf. "What I won't do to them will be funny! Swelled! +Explode! Stand the gaff! Look here, Worry, maybe it's true, but I don't +believe it.... _I'll beat this Herne team!_ Do you get that?" + +"Now you're talkin'," replied Worry, with an entire change of manner. +"You saw the Herne bunch play. They can field, but how about hittin'?" + +"Gallagher, Stern, Hill, and Burr are the veterans of last year's varsity," +went on Ken, rapidly, as one who knew his subject. "They can hit--if they +get what they like." + +"Now you're talkin'. How about Gallagher?" + +"He hits speed. He couldn't hit a slow ball with a paddle." + +"Now you're talkin'. There's Stern, how'd you size him?" + +"He's weak on a low curve, in or out, or a drop." + +"Peg, you're talkin' some now. How about Hill?" + +"Hill is a bunter. A high ball in close, speedy, would tie him in a knot." + +"Come on, hurry! There's Burr." + +"Burr's the best of the lot, a good waiter and hard hitter, but he +invariably hits a high curve up in the air." + +"All right. So far so good. How about the rest of the team?" + +"I'll hand them up a straight, easy ball and let them hit. I tell you +I've got Herne beaten, and if Gallagher or any one else begins to guy +me I'll laugh in his face." + +"Oh, you will?... Say, you go down to your room now, and stay there till +time for lunch. Study or read. Don't think another minute about this game." + +Ken strode soberly out of the room. + +It was well for Ken that he did not see what happened immediately after +his exit. Worry and Homans fell into each other's arms. + +"Say, fellows, how I hated to do it!" Worry choked with laughter and +contrition. "It was the hardest task I ever had. But, Cap, you know we +had to make Peg sore. He's too blamed good-natured. Oh, but didn't he +take fire! He'll make some of those Herne guys play low-bridge to-day. +Wouldn't it be great if he gave Gallagher the laugh?" + +"Worry, don't you worry about that," said Homans. "And it would +please me, too, for Gallagher is about as wordy and pompous as any +captain I've seen." + +"I think you were a little hard on Ken," put in Reddy. His quiet voice +drew Worry and Homans from their elation. "Of course, it was necessary +to rouse Ken's fighting blood, but you didn't choose the right way. +You hurt his feelings. You know, Worry, that the boy is not in the +least swelled." + +"'Course I know it, Reddy. Why, Peg's too modest. But I want him to +be dead in earnest to-day. Mind you, I'm thinkin' of Place. He'll beat +Herne to a standstill. I worked on his feelin's just to get him all +stirred up. You know there's always the chance of rattles in any young +player, especially a pitcher. If he's mad he won't be so likely to get +'em. So I hurt his feelin's. I'll make it up to him, don't you fear +for that, Reddy." + +"I wish you had waited till we go over to Place next week," replied Ray. +"You can't treat him that way twice. Over there's where I would look for +his weakening. But it may be he won't ever weaken. If he ever does it'll +be because of the crowd and not the players." + +"I think so, too. A yellin' mob will be new to Peg. But, fellows, +I'm only askin' one game from Herne and one, or a good close game, +from Place. That'll give Wayne the best record ever made. Look at +our standin' now. Why, the newspapers are havin' a fit. Since I +picked the varsity we haven't lost a game. Think of that! Those +early games don't count. We've had an unbroken string of victories, +Peg pitchin' twelve, and Schoonover four. And if wet grounds and +other things hadn't cancelled other games we'd have won more." + +"Yes, we're in the stretch now, Worry, and running strong. We'll +win three out of these four big games," rejoined Reddy. + +"Oh, say, that'd be too much! I couldn't stand it! Oh, say, Cap, don't +you think Reddy, for once, is talkin' about as swift as he sprints?" + +"I'm afraid to tell you, Worry," replied Homans, earnestly. "When I +look back at our work I can't realize it. But it's time to wake up. +The students over at college are waking up. They will be out to-day. +You are the one to judge whether we're a great team or not. We keep +on making runs. It's runs that count. I think, honestly, Worry, that +after to-day we'll be in the lead for championship honors. And I hold +my breath when I tell you." + +It was remarkably quiet about the training-house all that morning. The +coach sent a light lunch to the boys in their rooms. They had orders to +be dressed, and to report in the reading-room at one-thirty. + +Raymond came down promptly on time. + +"Where's Peg?" asked Worry. + +"Why, I thought he was here, ahead of me," replied Raymond, +in surprise. + +A quick survey of the uniformed players proved the absence of +Ken Ward and Reddy Ray. Worry appeared startled out of speech, +and looked helplessly at Homans. Then Ray came down-stairs, bat +in one hand, shoes and glove in the other. He seated himself upon +the last step and leisurely proceeded to put on his shoes. + +"Reddy, did you see Peg?" asked Worry, anxiously. + +"Sure, I saw him," replied the sprinter. + +"Well?" growled the coach. "Where is he? Sulkin' because I called him?" + +"Not so you'd notice it," answered Reddy, in his slow, careless manner. +"I just woke him up." + +"What!" yelled Arthurs. + +"Peg came to my room after lunch and went to sleep. I woke him just now. +He'll be down in a minute." + +Worry evidently could not reply at the moment, but he began to beam. + +"What would Gallagher say to that?" asked Captain Homans, with a smile. +"Wayne's varsity pitcher asleep before a Herne game! Oh no, I guess +that's not pretty good! Worry, could you ask any more?" + +"Cap, I'll never open my face to him again," blurted out the coach. + +Ken appeared at the head of the stairs and had started down, when the +door-bell rang. Worry opened the door to admit Murray, the trainer; +Dale, the old varsity captain, and the magnificently built Stevens, +guard and captain of the football team. + +"Hello! Worry," called out Murray, cheerily. "How're the kids? Boys, +you look good to me. Trim and fit, and all cool and quiet-like. Reddy, +be careful of your ankles and legs to-day. After the meet next week you +can cut loose and run bases like a blue streak." + +Dale stepped forward, earnest and somewhat concerned, but with a winning +frankness. + +"Worry, will you let Stevens and me sit on the bench with the boys to-day?" + +Worry's face took on the color of a thunder-cloud. "I'm not the captain," +he replied. "Ask Homans." + +"How about it, Roy?" queried Dale. + +Homans was visibly affected by surprise, pleasure, and something more. +While he hesitated, perhaps not trusting himself to reply quickly, +Stevens took a giant stride to the fore. + +"Homans, we've got a hunch that Wayne's going to win," he said, in +a deep-bass voice. "A few of us have been tipped off, and we got it +straight. But the students don't know it yet. So Dale and I thought +we'd like them to see how we feel about it--before this game. You've +had a rotten deal from the students this year. But they'll more than +make it up when you beat Herne. The whole college is waiting and +restless." + +Homans, recovering himself, faced the two captains courteously and +gratefully, and with a certain cool dignity. + +"Thank you, fellows! It's fine of you to offer to sit with us on the +bench. I thank you on behalf of the varsity. But--not to-day. All season +we've worked and fought without support, and now we're going to beat +Herne without support. When we've done that you and Dale--all the +college--can't come too quick to suit us." + +"I think I'd say the same thing, if I were in your place," said Dale. +"And I'll tell you right here that when I was captain I never plugged +any harder to win than I'll plug to-day." + +Then these two famous captains of championship teams turned to Homans' +players and eyed them keenly, their faces working, hands clenched, +their powerful frames vibrating with the feeling of the moment. That +moment was silent, eloquent. It linked Homans' team to the great +athletic fame of the university. It radiated the spirit to conquer, +the glory of past victories, the strength of honorable defeats. Then +Dale and Stevens went out, leaving behind them a charged atmosphere. + +"I ain't got a word to say," announced Worry to the players. + +"And I've very little," added Captain Homans. "We're all on edge, and +being drawn down so fine we may be over-eager. Force that back. It +doesn't matter if we make misplays. We've made many this season, but +we've won all the same. At the bat, remember to keep a sharp eye on +the base-runner, and when he signs he is going down, bunt or hit to +advance him. That's all." + +Ken Ward walked to the field between Worry Arthurs and Reddy Ray. +Worry had no word to say, but he kept a tight grip on Ken's arm. + +"Peg, I've won many a sprint by not underestimating my opponent," +said Reddy, quietly. "Now you go at Herne for all you're worth from +the start." + +When they entered the field there were more spectators in the +stands than had attended all the other games together. In a far +corner the Herne players in dark-blue uniforms were practising +batting. Upon the moment the gong called them in for their turn +at field practice. The Wayne team batted and bunted a few balls, +and then Homans led them to the bench. + +Upon near view the grand-stand and bleachers seemed a strange sight to +Ken Ward. He took one long look at the black-and-white mass of students +behind the back-stop, at the straggling lines leading to the gates, at +the rapidly filling rows to right and left, and then he looked no more. +Already an immense crowd was present. Still it was not a typical college +baseball audience. Ken realized that at once. It was quiet, orderly, +expectant, and watchful. Very few girls were there. The students as a +body had warmed to curiosity and interest, but not to the extent of +bringing the girls. After that one glance Ken resolutely kept his eyes +upon the ground. He was conscious of a feeling that he wanted to spring +up and leap at something. And he brought all his will to force back his +over-eagerness. He heard the crack of the ball, the shouts of the Herne +players, the hum of voices in the grand-stand, and the occasional cheers +of Herne rooters. There were no Wayne cheers. + +"Warm up a little," said Worry, in his ear. + +Ken peeled off his sweater and walked out with Dean. A long +murmur ran throughout the stands. Ken heard many things said +of him, curiously, wonderingly, doubtfully, and he tried not +to hear more. Then he commenced to pitch to Dean. Worry stood +near him and kept whispering to hold in his speed and just to +use his arm easily. It was difficult, for Ken felt that his arm +wanted to be cracked like a buggy-whip. + +"That'll do," whispered Worry. "We're only takin' five minutes' +practice.... Say, but there's a crowd! Are you all right, Peg--cool-like +and determined?... Good! Say--but Peg, you'd better look these fellows +over." + +"I remember them all," replied Ken. "That's Gallagher on the end of +the bench; Burr is third from him; Stern's fussing over the bats, and +there's Hill, the light-headed fellow, looking this way. There's--" + +"That'll do," said Worry. "There goes the gong. It's all off now. +Homans has chosen to take the field. I guess mebbe you won't show +'em how to pitch a new white ball! Get at 'em now!" Then he called +Ken back as if impelled, and whispered to him in a husky voice: +"It's been tough for you and for me. Listen! Here's where it begins +to be sweet." + +Ken trotted out to the box, to the encouraging voices of the infield, +and he even caught Reddy Ray's low, thrilling call from the far outfield. + +"Play!" With the ringing order, which quieted the audience, the umpire +tossed a white ball to Ken. + +For a single instant Ken trembled ever so slightly in all his limbs, +and the stands seemed a revolving black-and-white band. Then the emotion +was as if it had never been. He stepped upon the slab, keen-sighted, +cool, and with his pitching game outlined in his mind. + +Burr, the curly-haired leader of Herne's batting list, took his +position to the left of the plate. Ken threw him an underhand curve, +sweeping high and over the inside corner. Burr hit a lofty fly to +Homans. Hill, the bunter, was next. For him Ken shot one straight +over the plate. Hill let it go by, and it was a strike. Ken put +another in the same place, and Hill, attempting to bunt, fouled +a little fly, which Dean caught. Gallagher strode third to bat. +He used a heavy club, stood right-handed over the plate, and looked +aggressive. Ken gave the captain a long study and then swung slowly, +sending up a ball that floated like a feather. Gallagher missed it. +On the second pitch he swung heavily at a slow curve far off the +outside. For a third Ken tried the speedy drop, and the captain, +letting it go, was out on strikes. + +The sides changed. Worry threw a sweater around Ken. + +"The ice's broke, Peg, and you've got your control. That settles it." + +Homans went up, to a wavering ripple of applause. He drew two balls and +then a strike from Murphy, and hit the next hard into short field. Frick +fumbled the ball, recovered it, and threw beautifully, but too late to +catch Homans. Raymond sacrificed, sending his captain to second. Murphy +could not locate the plate for Reddy Ray and let him get to first on +four balls. Weir came next. Homans signed he was going to run on the +first pitch. Weir, hitting with the runner, sent a double into right +field, and Homans and Ray scored. The bleachers cheered. Homans ran +down to third base to the coaching lines, and Ray went to first base. +Both began to coach the runner. Dean hit into short field, and was +thrown out, while Weir reached third on the play. + +"Two out, now! Hit!" yelled Homans to Blake. + +Blake hit safely over second, scoring Weir. Then Trace flied out to +left field. + +"Three runs!" called Homans. "Boys, that's a start! Three more runs +and this game's ours! Now, Peg, now!" + +Ken did not need that trenchant thrilling _now_. The look in Worry's +eyes had been enough. He threw speed to Halloway, and on the third ball +retired him, Raymond to McCord. Stern came second to bat. In Ken's mind +this player was recorded with a weakness on low curves. And Ken found +it with two balls pitched. Stern popped up to Blake. Frick, a new player +to Ken, let a strike go by, and missed a drop and a fast ball. + +"They can't touch you, Ken," called Raymond, as he tossed aside his glove. + +Faint cheers rose from scattered parts of the grand-stand, and here +and there shouts and yells. The audience appeared to stir, to become +animated, and the Herne players settled down to more sober action on +the field. + +McCord made a bid for a hit, but failed because of fast work by Stern. +Ken went up, eager to get to first in any way. He let Murphy pitch, +and at last, after fouling several good ones, he earned his base on +balls. Once there, he gave Homans the sign that he would run on the +first pitch, and he got a fair start. He heard the crack of the ball +and saw it glinting between short and third. Running hard, he beat the +throw-in to third. With two runners on bases, Raymond hit to deep short. +Ken went out trying to reach home. Again Reddy Ray came up and got a +base on balls, filling the bases. The crowd began to show excitement, +and seemed to be stifling cheers in suspense. Weir hurried to bat, his +shock of hair waving at every step. He swung hard on the first ball, +and, missing it, whirled down, bothering the catcher. Homans raced home +on a half-passed ball. Then Weir went out on a fly to centre. + +"Peg, keep at them!" called Reddy Ray. "We've got Murphy's measure." + +It cost Ken an effort to deliberate in the box, to think before he +pitched. He had to fight his eagerness. But he wasted few balls, and +struck Mercer out. Van Sant hit to Weir, who threw wild to first, +allowing the runner to reach third. Murphy, batting next, hit one +which Ken put straight over the plate, and it went safe through second, +scoring Van Sant. The Herne rooters broke out in loud acclaim. Burr +came up, choking his bat up short. Again Ken gave him the high, wide +curve. He let it pass and the umpire called it a strike. Ken threw +another, a little outside this time. Evidently Burr was trying out +Ken's control. + +"He can't put them over!" yelled Gallagher, from the coaching line. +"Here's where he goes up! Wait him out, Burr. Good eye, old man! +Here's where we explode the freshman!" + +Ken glanced at Gallagher and laughed. Then he sped up another high +curve, which the umpire called a strike. + +"That's the place, Peg! Put another there!" floated from Reddy in +the outfield. + +Burr swung viciously, hitting a bounder toward second base. Raymond +darted over, went down with his bird-like quickness, came up with the +ball, and then he touched the bag and threw to first. It was a play +in which he excelled. The umpire called both runners out, retiring +the side. A short, sharp yell, like a bark, burst from the bleachers. + +Worry was smilingly thoughtful as his boys trotted in to bat. + +"Say, if you get a couple of runs this time we'll be _It_. Look at the +students. Ready to fall out of the stands.... Peg, I'm glad Herne got +a run. Now we won't think of a shut-out. That'll steady us up. And, +boys, break loose now, for the game's ours." + +Dean started off with a clean single. On the first pitch he broke for +second, and had to slide to make it, as Blake missed the strike. Then +Blake went out to first. Trace walked. McCord poked a little fly over +the infield, scoring Dean. Ken fouled out. The unerring Homans again +hit safely, sending Trace in. With two out and McCord on third and +Homans on second, Raymond laid down a beautiful bunt, tallying McCord. +And when the Herne catcher tried to head Homans from making third +Raymond kept on toward second. It was a daring dash, and he dove to +the bag with a long slide, but the decision was against him. + +The coach called Homans, Ward, and Ray to him and gathered them +close together. + +"Boys, listen!" he said, low and tense. "MacNeff and Prince, of Place, +are in the grand-stand just behind the plate. They're up there to get +a line on Peg. We'll fool 'em, and make 'em sick in the bargain. Peg, +you let out this innin' and show up the first three hitters. Then I'll +take you out and let Schoonover finish the game. See?" + +"Take me--out?" echoed Ken. + +"That's it, if you make these next three hitters look like monkeys. +Don't you see? We've got the Herne game cinched. We don't need to use +our star twirler. See? That'll be a bone for Place to chew on. How +about it, Cap? What do you think, Reddy?" + +"Oh, Worry, if we dared to do it!" Homans exclaimed, under his breath. +"Herne would never get over it. And it would scare Place to death.... +But, Worry, Reddy, dare we risk it?" + +"It's playin' into our very hands," replied Worry. His hazel eyes +were afire with inspiration. + +Reddy Ray's lean jaw bulged. + +"Homans, it's the trick, and we can turn it." + +"What's the score--7 to 1?" muttered Homans. It was a tight place +for him, and he seemed tortured between ambition and doubt. + +"That fellow Murphy hasn't got one in my groove yet," said Reddy. +"I'm due to lace one. We're good for more runs." + +That decided Homans. He patted Ken on the shoulder and led him out to +the box, but he never spoke a word. + +Ken felt like a wild colt just let loose. He faced Hill with a smile, +and then, taking his long, overhand swing, he delivered the jump ball. +Hill made no move. The umpire called strike. The crowd roared. Ken +duplicated the feat. Then Hill missed the third strike. Gallagher +walked up doggedly, and Ken smiled at him, too. Then using three +wicked, darting drops, Ken struck Gallagher out. + +"That's twice!" called Reddy's penetrating voice from the outfield. +"Give him a paddle!" + +Halloway drew two balls and then three strikes. + +Ken ran for the bench amid an uproar most strange and startling to his +untried ear. The long, tardy, and stubborn students had broken their +silence. + +Dale leaped out of the grand-stand to lead the cheering. The giant +Stevens came piling out of the bleachers to perform a like office. +And then they were followed by Bryan, captain of the crew, and +Hilbrandt, captain of the track team. Four captains of Wayne teams +inspiriting and directing the cheering! Ken's bewildered ears drank +in one long, thundering "_Ward! Ward! Ward!_" and then his hearing +seemed drowned. The whole mass of students and spectators rose as +one, and the deafening stamp of feet only equalled the roar of voices. +But now the volume of sound was regular and rhythmic. It was like the +approach of a terrible army. For minutes, while the umpire held play +suspended, the Wayne supporters in hoarse and stamping tumult came +into their own again. It was a wild burst of applause, and as it had +been long delayed, so now it was prolonged fiercely to the limit of +endurance. + +When those waves of sound had rolled away Ken Ward felt a difference +in Grant Field, in the varsity, in himself. A different color shone +from the sky. + +Ken saw Reddy Ray go to bat and drive the ball against the right-field +fence. Then as the sprinter got into his wonderful stride once more the +whole audience rose in yelling, crashing clamor. And when on Weir's fly +to the outfield Reddy raced in to the plate, making the throw-in look +feeble, again the din was terrific. + +As one in a glorious dream, Ken Ward crouched upon the bench and watched +the remainder of that game. He grasped it all as if baseball was all that +made life worth living, and as if every moment was his last. He never +thought of himself. He was only a part of the team, and that team, +every moment, grew sharper, faster, fiercer. He revelled in the game. +Schoonover was hit hard, but fast play by Raymond and Weir kept Herne's +score down. The little second-baseman was here, there, everywhere, like +a glint of light. Herne made runs, but Wayne also kept adding runs. +Blake caught a foul fly off the bleachers; Trace made a beautiful catch; +McCord was like a tower at first base, and little Dean went through the +last stages of development that made him a star. + +Once in the eighth inning Ken became aware that Worry was punching +him in the back and muttering: + +"Look out, Peg! Listen! Murphy'll get one in Reddy's groove this +time.... Oh-h!" + +The crack of the ball, as well as Worry's yell, told Ken what had +happened. Besides, he could see, and as the ball lined away for the +fence, and the sprinter leaped into action, Ken jumped up and screamed: + +"Oh, Reddy, it's over--over! No! Run! Run! Oh-h-h!" + +In the shrill, piercing strife of sound Ken's scream seemed only a +breath at his ears. He held to it, almost splitting his throat, while +the sprinter twinkled round third base and came home like a thunderbolt. + +Another inning passed, a confusion of hits, throws, runs, and plays +to Ken, and then Worry was pounding him again. + +"Dig for the trainin'-house!" yelled Worry, mouth on his ear. +"The students are crazy! They'll eat us alive! They're tearin' +the bleachers down! Run for it, Peg!" + + + + +XV + +A MATTER OF PRINCIPLE + + +Ken found himself running across Grant Field, pursued by a happy, +roaring mob of students. They might have been Indians, judging from +the way Ken and his fellow-players fled before them. The trained +athletes distanced their well-meaning but violent pursuers and gained +the gate, but it was a close shave. The boys bounded up the street +into the training-house and locked the door till the puffing Arthurs +arrived. They let him in and locked the door again. + +In another moment the street resounded with the rush of many feet +and the yells of frantic students. Murray, the trainer, forced a way +through the crowd and up the stoop. He closed and barred the outside +door, and then pounded upon the inside door for admittance. Worry +let him in. + +"They'd make a bowl-fight or a football rush look tame," panted Murray. +"Hey! Scotty--lock up tight down in the basement. For Heaven's sake +don't let that push get in on us! Lock the windows in the front." + +"Who's that poundin' on the door?" yelled Worry. He had to yell, +for the swelling racket outside made ordinary conversation impossible. + +"Don't open it!" shouted Murray. "What do we care for team-captains, +college professors, athletic directors, or students? They're all out +there, and they're crazy, I tell you. I never saw the like. It'd be +more than I want to get in that jam. And it'd never do for the varsity. +Somebody would get crippled sure. I'm training this baseball team." + +Murray, in his zealous care of his athletes, was somewhat overshooting +the mark, for not one of the boys had the slightest desire to be trusted +to the mob outside. In fact, Ken looked dazed, and Raymond scared to the +point of trembling; Trace was pale; and all the others, except Homans +and Reddy Ray, showed perturbation. Nor were the captain and sprinter +deaf to the purport of that hour; only in their faces shone a kindling +glow and flush. + +By-and-by the boys slipped to their rooms, removed their uniforms, +dressed and crept down-stairs like burglars and went in to dinner. +Outside the uproar, instead of abating, gathered strength as time +went by. At the dinner-table the boys had to yell in each other's +ears. They had to force what they ate. No one was hungry. When Worry +rose from the table they all flocked after him. + +It was growing dark outside, and a red glow, brightening upon +the windows, showed the students had lighted bonfires. + +"They're goin' to make a night of it," yelled Worry. + +"How'll my boys be able to sleep?" shouted Murray. Both coach +and trainer were as excited as any of the boys. + +"The street's packed solid. Listen!" + +The tramp, tramp, tramp of thousands of feet keeping time was like the +heavy tread of a marching multitude. Then the tramp died away in a +piercing cheer, "_Wayne!_" nine times, clear and sustained--a long, +beautiful college cheer. In the breathing spell that followed, the +steady tramp of feet went on. One by one, at intervals, the university +yells were given, the broken rattling rally, the floating melodious +crew cheer, and the hoarse, smashing boom of football. Then again +the inspiriting "_Wayne!_" nine times. After that came shrill calls +for the varsity, for Homans, Reddy Ray, Raymond, and Peggie Ward. + +"Come up-stairs to the windows, boys!" shouted Worry. "We've got +to show ourselves." + +Worry threw up the windows in Weir's room, and the boys gingerly poked +their heads out. A roar greeted their appearance. The heads all popped +in as if they had been struck. + +"Homans, you'll have to make a speech," cried the coach. + +"I will not!" + +"You've got to say somethin'. We can't have this crazy gang out here +all night." + +Then Worry and Murray coaxed and led Homans to the window. The captain +leaned out and said something that was unintelligible in the hubbub +without. The crowd cheered him and called for Reddy, Ward, and Raymond. +Worry grasped the second-baseman and shoved him half over the sill. +Raymond would have fallen out but for the coach's strong hold. + +"Come on, Peg!" yelled Worry. + +"Not on your life!" cried Ken, in affright. He ran away from the +coach, and dived under the bed. But Reddy Ray dragged him out and +to the window, and held him up in the bright bonfire glare. Then he +lifted a hand to silence the roaring crowd. + +"Fellows, here he is--Worry's demon, Wayne's pitcher!" called Reddy, +in ringing, far-reaching voice. "Listen! Peggie didn't lose his nerve +when he faced Herne to-day, but he's lost it now. He's lost his voice, +too. But he says for you to go away and save your cheers for this day +two weeks, when we meet Place. Then, he says, you'll have something +to cheer for!" + +The crafty sprinter knew how to appeal to the students. All of voice +and strength and enthusiasm left in them went up in a mighty bawl +that rattled the windows and shook the house. They finished with +nine "_Waynes!_" and a long, rousing "_Peggie Ward!_" and then they +went away. + +"By George! look here, Peg," said Reddy, earnestly, "they gave you +Wayne's Nine! _Wayne's Nine!_ Do you hear? I never knew a freshman +varsity man to get that cheer." + +"You've got to beat Place now, after tellin' 'em you'd do it," +added Worry. + +"But, Worry, I didn't say a word--it was Reddy," replied Ken, +in distress. + +"Same thing," rejoined the coach. "Now, boys, let's quiet down and +talk over the game. I won't waste any time jollyin' you. I couldn't +praise you enough if I spent the rest of the season tryin' to. One +and all, by yourselves and in a bunch, you played Herne off their +feet. I'll bet MacNeff and Prince are dizzy figurin' what'll happen +Saturday week. As to the score, why, scores don't mean much to us--" + +"What was the score, anyway?" asked Ken. + +The boys greeted this with shouts of doubtful laughter, and Worry +glanced with disapproval at his star. + +"Peg, you keep me guessin' a lot. But not to know how much we beat +Herne would be more 'n I could stand. On the level, now, don't you +know the score?" + +"Fair and square, I don't, Worry. You never would let me think of +how many runs we had or needed. I can count seven--yes, and one more, +that was Reddy's home-run." + +"Peg, you must have been up in the air a little; 14 to 4, that's it. +And we didn't take our bat in the last of the ninth." + +Then followed Worry's critical account of the game, and a discussion +in which the boys went over certain plays. During the evening many +visitors called, but did not gain admission. The next morning, however, +Worry himself brought in the newspapers, which heretofore he had +forbidden the players to read, and he told them they were now free +to have any callers or to go where they liked. There was a merry +scramble for the papers, and presently the reading-room was as quiet +as a church. + +The account that held Ken Ward in rapt perusal was the _Morning +Times-Star's_. At first the print blurred in Ken's sight. Then he +read it over again. He liked the glowing praise given the team, +and was shamefully conscious of the delight in his name in large +letters. A third time he read it, guiltily this time, for he did +not dream that his comrades were engrossed in like indulgence. + + + WAYNE OUTCLASSES HERNE + + ARTHURS DEVELOPS ANOTHER GREAT TEAM. + PEGGIE WARD AND REDDY RAY STARS. + + Wayne defeated Herne yesterday 14 to 4, and thereby + leaped into the limelight. It was a surprise to + every one, Herne most of all. Owing to the stringent + eligibility rules now in force at Wayne, and the + barring of the old varsity, nothing was expected of + this season's team. Arthurs, the famous coach, has + built a wonderful nine out of green material, and + again establishes the advisability of professional + coaches for the big universities. + + With one or two exceptions Wayne's varsity is made + up of players developed this year. Homans, the + captain, was well known about town as an amateur + player of ability. But Arthurs has made him into + a great field captain and a base-getter of remarkable + skill. An unofficial computing gives him the batting + average of .536. No captain or any other player of + any big college team in the East ever approached + such percentage as that. It is so high that it must + be a mistake. + + Reddy Ray, the intercollegiate champion in the sprints, + is the other seasoned player of the varsity, and it is + safe to say that he is the star of all the college + teams. A wonderful fielder, a sure and heavy hitter, + and like a flash on the bases, he alone makes Homans' + team formidable. + + Then there is Peg Ward, Worry Arthurs' demon pitcher, + of freshman bowl-fight fame. This lad has been arriving + since spring, and now he has arrived. He is powerful, + and has a great arm. He seems to pitch without effort, + has twice the speed of Dale, and is as cool in the box + as a veteran. But it is his marvellous control of the + ball that puts him in a class by himself. In the fourth + inning of yesterday's game he extended himself, probably + on orders from Coach Arthurs, and struck out Herne's + three best hitters on eleven pitched balls. Then he + was taken out and Schoonover put in. This white-headed + lad is no slouch of a pitcher, by-the-way. But it must + have been a bitter pill for Herne to swallow. The proud + Herne varsity have been used to knocking pitchers out + of the box, instead of seeing them removed because + they were too good. Also, MacNeff and Prince, of Place, + who saw the game, must have had food for reflection. + They did not get much of a line on young Ward, and + what they saw will not give them pleasant dreams. + We pick Ward to beat the heavy-hitting Place team. + + Other youngsters of Arthurs' nine show up well, + particularly Raymond and Weir, who have springs in + their feet and arms like whips. Altogether Arthurs' + varsity is a strangely assorted, a wonderfully chosen + group of players. We might liken them to the mechanism + of a fine watch, with Ward as the mainspring, and + the others with big or little parts to perform, but + each dependent upon the other. Wayne's greatest + baseball team! + + +Ken read it all thirstily, wonderingly, and recorded it deep in the +deepest well of his memory. It seemed a hundred times as sweet for all +the misery and longing and fear and toil which it had cost to gain. + +And each succeeding day grew fuller and richer with its meed of reward. +All the boys of the varsity were sought by the students, Ken most of all. +Everywhere he went he was greeted with a regard that made him still more +bashful and ashamed. If he stepped into Carlton Club, it was to be +surrounded by a frankly admiring circle of students. He could not get +a moment alone in the library. Professors had a smile for him and often +stopped to chat. The proudest moment of his college year was when +President Halstead met him in the promenade, and before hundreds of +students turned to walk a little way with him. There seemed not to be +a single student of the university or any one connected with it, who did +not recognize him. Bryan took him to watch the crew practise; Stevens +played billiards with him at the club; Dale openly sought his society. +Then the fraternities began to vie with one another for Ken. In all his +life he had not imagined a fellow could be treated so well. It was an +open secret that Ken Ward was extremely desired in the best fraternities. +He could not have counted his friends. Through it all, by thinking of +Worry and the big games coming, he managed to stay on his feet. + +One morning, when he was at the height of this enjoyable popularity, +he read a baseball note that set him to thinking hard. The newspaper, +commenting on the splendid results following Wayne's new athletic +rules, interpreted one rule in a way astounding to Ken. It was +something to the effect that all players who had been _on_ a team +which paid any player or any expenses of any player were therefore +ineligible. Interpretation of the rules had never been of any serious +moment to Ken. He had never played on any but boy teams. But suddenly +he remembered that during a visit to the mountains with his mother he +had gone to a place called Eagle's Nest, a summer hotel colony. It +boasted of a good ball team and had a rival in the Glenwoods, a team +from an adjoining resort. Ken had been in the habit of chasing flies +for the players in practice. One day Eagle's Nest journeyed over to +Glenwood to play, and being short one player they took Ken to fill in. +He had scarcely started in the game when the regular player appeared, +thus relieving him. The incident had completely slipped Ken's mind +until recalled by the newspaper note. + +Whereupon Ken began to ponder. He scouted the idea of that innocent +little thing endangering his eligibility at Wayne. But the rule, +thus made clear, stood out in startlingly black-and-white relief. +Eagle's Nest supported a team by subscription among the hotel guests. +Ken had ridden ten miles in a 'bus with the team, and had worn one +of the uniforms for some few minutes. Therefore, upon a technicality, +perhaps, he had been _on_ a summer nine, and had no right to play for +Wayne. + +Ken went to Homans and told him the circumstance. The captain looked +exceedingly grave, then getting more particulars he relaxed. + +"You're safe, Peg. You're perfectly innocent. But don't mention it to +any one else, especially Worry. He'd have a fit. What a scare you'd +throw into the varsity camp! Forget the few minutes you wore that +Eagle's Nest suit." + +For the time being this reassured Ken, but after a while his anxiety +returned. Homans had said not to mention it, and that bothered Ken. +He lay awake half of one night thinking about the thing. It angered +him and pricked his conscience and roused him. He wanted to feel +absolutely sure of his position, for his own sake first of all. +So next morning he cornered Worry and blurted out the secret. + +"Peg, what're you givin' me!" he ejaculated. + +Ken repeated his story, somewhat more clearly and at greater length. +Worry turned as white as a ghost. + +"Good gracious, Peg, you haven't told anybody?" + +"No one but Homans." + +Worry gave a long sigh of relief, and his face regained some of its +usual florid color. + +"Well, that's all right then.... Say, didn't I tell you once that I +had a weak heart? Peg, of course you're an amateur, or there never was +one. But 'em fat-head directors! Why, I wouldn't have 'em find that +out for a million dollars. They're idiots enough to make a shinin' +example of you right before the Place games. Keep it under your +hat, see!" + +This last was in the nature of a command, and Ken had always +religiously obeyed Worry. He went to his room feeling that the +matter had been decided for him. Relief, however, did not long +abide with him. He began to be torn between loyalty to Worry and +duty to himself. He felt guiltless, but he was not sure of it, +and until he was sure he could not be free in mind. Suddenly he +thought of being actually barred from the varsity, and was miserable. +That he could not bear. Strong temptation now assailed Ken and found +him weak. A hundred times he reconciled himself to Worry's command, +to Homan's point of view, yet every time something rose within him and +rebelled. But despite the rebellion Ken almost gave in. He fought off +thought of his new sweet popularity, of the glory of being Wayne's +athletic star. He fought to look the thing fairly in the face. To him +it loomed up a hundredfold larger than an incident of his baseball +career. And so he got strength to do the thing that would ease the +voice of conscience. He went straight to the coach. + +"Worry, I've got to go to the directors and tell them. I--I'm sorry, +but I've got to do it." + +He expected a storm of rage from Worry, but never had the coach been +so suave, so kindly, so magnetic. He called Homans and Raymond and +Weir and others who were in the house at the moment and stated Ken's +case. His speech flowed smooth and rapid. The matter under his deft +argument lost serious proportions. But it seemed to Ken that Worry +did not tell the boys the whole truth, or they would not have laughed +at the thing and made him out over-sensitive. And Ken was now growing +too discouraged and bewildered to tell them. Moreover, he was getting +stubborn. The thing was far from a joke. The cunning of the coach +proved that. Worry wound the boys round his little finger. + +At this juncture Reddy Ray entered the training-house. + +More than once Ken had gone to the great sprinter with confidences +and troubles, and now he began impulsively, hurriedly, incoherently, +to tell the story. + +"And Reddy," concluded Ken, "I've got to tell the directors. It's +something--hard for me to explain. I couldn't pitch another game +with this hanging over me. I must--tell them--and take my medicine." + +"Sure. It's a matter of principle," replied Reddy, in his soft, slow +voice. His keen eyes left Ken's pale face and met the coach's. "Worry, +I'll take Peg up to see the athletic faculty. I know Andrews, the +president, and he's the one to hear Peg's story." + +Worry groaned and sank into a chair crushed and beaten. Then he swore, +something unusual in him. Then he began to rave at the fat-headed +directors. Then he yelled that he would never coach another ball team +so long as he lived. + +Ken followed Reddy out of the training-house and along the street. +The fact that the sprinter did not say a word showed Ken he was +understood, and he felt immeasurably grateful. They crossed the +campus and entered College Hall, to climb the winding stairway. +To Ken that was a long, hateful climb. Andrews, and another of the +directors whom Ken knew by sight, were in the office. They greeted +the visitors with cordial warmth. + +"Gentlemen," began Reddy, "Ward thinks he has violated one of the +eligibility rules." + +There was no beating about the bush with Reddy Ray, no shading of fact, +no distortion of the truth. Coolly he stated the case. But, strangely +to Ken, the very truth, told by Reddy in this way, somehow lost its +terrors. Ken's shoulders seemed unburdened of a terrible weight. + +Andrews and his colleague laughed heartily. + +"You see--I--I forgot all about it," said Ken. + +"Yes, and since he remembered he's been worrying himself sick," +resumed Reddy. "Couldn't rest till he'd come over here." + +"Ward, it's much to your credit that you should confide something +there was never any chance of becoming known," said the president +of the athletic faculty. "We appreciate it. You may relieve your +mind of misgivings as to your eligibility. Even if we tried I doubt +if we could twist a rule to affect your standing. And you may rest +assured we wouldn't try in the case of so fine a young fellow and +so splendid a pitcher for Wayne." + +Then Andrews courteously shook hands with Ken and Reddy and bowed +them out. Ken danced half-way down the stairway and slid the rest +on the bannister. + +"Reddy, wasn't he just fine?" cried Ken, all palpitating with joy. + +"Well, Peg, Andrews is a nice old thing if you approach him right," +replied Reddy, dryly. "You wouldn't believe me, would you, if I said +I had my heart in my throat when we went in?" + +"No, I wouldn't," replied Ken, bluntly. + +"I thought not," said Reddy. Then the gravity that had suddenly +perplexed Ken cleared from the sprinter's face. "Peg, let's have +some fun with Worry and the boys." + +"I'm in for anything now." + +"We'll go back to the training-house with long faces. When we get in +you run up-stairs as if you couldn't face any one, but be sure to sneak +back to the head of the stairs to see and hear the fun. I'll fix Worry +all right. Now, don't flunk. It's a chance." + +Ken could not manage to keep a straight face as they went in, so he hid +it and rushed up-stairs. He bumped into Raymond, knocking him flat. + +"Running to a fire again?" growled Raymond. "Got a fire-medal, haven't +you? Always falling over people." + +Ken tried to simulate ungovernable rage and impotent distress at once. +He waved one fist and tore his hair with the other hand. + +"Get out of my way!" roared Ken. "What'll you say when I tell you I'm +barred from the varsity!" + +"Oh! Ken! No, no--don't say it," faltered Raymond, all sympathy in +an instant. + +Ken ran into his room, closed the door and then peeped out. He saw +Raymond slowly sag down-stairs as if his heart was broken. Then Ken +slipped out and crawled down the hall till he could see into the +reading-room. All the boys were there, with anxious faces, crowded +round the coach. Worry was livid. Reddy Ray seemed the only calm +person in the room and he had tragedy written all over him. + +"Out with it!" shouted Worry. "Don't stand there like a mournful +preacher. What did 'em fat-heads say?" + +Reddy threw up his hands with a significant gesture. + +"I knew it!" howled Worry, jumping up and down. "I knew it! Why did +you take the kid over there? Why didn't you let me and Homans handle +this thing? You red-headed, iron-jawed, cold-blooded wind-chaser! +You've done it now, haven't you? I--Oh--" + +Worry began to flounder helplessly. + +"They said a few more things," went on Reddy. "Peg is barred, Raymond +is barred, I am barred. I told them about my baseball career out West. +The directors said some pretty plain things about you, Worry, I'm sorry +to tell. You're a rotten coach. In fact, you ought to be a coach at an +undertaker's. Homans gets the credit for the work of the team. They +claim you are too hard on the boys, too exacting, too brutal, in fact. +Andrews recited a record of your taking sandwiches from us and aiding +and abetting Murray in our slow starvation. The directors will favor +your dismissal and urge the appointment of Professor Rhodes, who as +coach will at least feed us properly." + +Reddy stopped to catch his breath and gain time for more invention. Of +all the unhappy mortals on earth Worry Arthurs looked the unhappiest. +He believed every word as if it had been gospel. And that about Professor +Rhodes was the last straw. + +Ken could stand the deception no longer. He marvelled at Reddy's +consummate lying and how he could ever stand that look on Worry's +face. Bounding down-stairs four steps at a jump, Ken burst like a +bomb upon the sad-faced group. + +"Oh, Worry, it's all a joke!" + + + + +XVI + +THE FIRST PLACE GAME + + +Rain prevented the second Herne game, which was to have been played +on the Herne grounds. It rained steadily all day Friday and Saturday, +to the disappointment of Wayne's varsity. The coach, however, admitted +that he was satisfied to see the second contest with Herne go by the +board. + +"I don't like big games away from home," said Worry. "It's hard on new +teams. Besides, we beat Herne to death over here. Mebbe we couldn't do +it over there, though I ain't doubtin'. But it's Place we're after, and +if we'd had that game at Herne we couldn't have kept Place from gettin' +a line on us. So I'm glad it rained." + +The two Place games fell during a busy week at Wayne. Wednesday was the +beginning of the commencement exercises and only a comparatively few +students could make the trip to Place. But the night before the team +left, the students, four thousand strong, went to the training-house +and filled a half-hour with college songs and cheers. + +Next morning Dale and Stevens, heading a small band of Wayne athletes +and graduates, met the team at the railroad station and boarded the +train with them. Worry and Homans welcomed them, and soon every Wayne +player had two or more for company. Either by accident or design, Ken +could not tell which, Dale and Stevens singled him out for their especial +charge. The football captain filled one seat with his huge bulk and faced +Ken, and Dale sat with a hand on Ken's shoulder. + +"Peg, we're backing you for all we're worth," said Stevens. "But this is +your first big game away from home. It's really the toughest game of the +season. Place is a hard nut to crack any time. And her players on their +own backyard are scrappers who can take a lot of beating and still win +out. Then there's another thing that's no small factor in their strength: +They are idolized by the students, and rooting at Place is a science. They +have a yell that beats anything you ever heard. It'll paralyze a fellow +at a critical stage. But that yell is peculiar in that it rises out of +circumstances leading to almost certain victory. That is, Place has to +make a strong bid for a close, hard game to work up that yell. So if it +comes to-day you be ready for it. Have your ears stuffed with cotton, +and don't let that yell blow you up in the air." + +Dale was even more earnest than Stevens. + +"Peg, Place beat me over here last year, beat me 6-3. They hit me harder +than I ever was hit before, I guess. You went down to Washington, Worry +said, to look them over. Tell me what you think--how you sized them up." + +Dale listened attentively while Ken recited his impressions. + +"You've got Prince and MacNeff figured exactly right," replied Dale. +"Prince is the football captain, by-the-way. Be careful how you run +into second base. If you ever slide into him head first--good-bye! +He's a great player, and he can hit any kind of a ball. MacNeff now, +just as you said, is weak on a high ball close in, and he kills a low +ball. Kills is the word! He hits them a mile. But, Peg, I think you're +a little off on Keene, Starke, and Martin, the other Place cracks. They're +veterans, hard to pitch to; they make you cut the plate; they are as apt +to bunt as hit, and they are fast. They keep a fellow guessing. I think +Starke pulls a little on a curve, but the others have no weakness I ever +discovered. But, Peg, I expect you to do more with them than I did. My +control was never any too good, and you can throw almost as straight as +a fellow could shoot a rifle. Then your high fast ball, that one you +get with the long swing, it would beat any team. Only I'm wondering, +I'm asking--can you use it right along, in the face of such coaching +and yelling and hitting as you'll run against to-day? I'm asking +deliberately, because I want to give you confidence." + +"Why, yes, Dale, I think I can. I'm pretty sure of it. That ball comes +easily, only a little longer swing and more snap, and honestly, Dale, +I hardly ever think about the plate. I know where it is, and I could +shut my eyes and throw strikes." + +"Peg, you're a wonder," replied Dale, warmly. "If you can do that--and +hang me if I doubt it--you will make Place look like a lot of dubs. We're +sure to make a few runs. Homans and Ray will hit Salisbury hard. There's +no fence on Place Field, and every ball Reddy hits past a fielder will +be a home-run. You can gamble on that. So set a fast clip when you start +in, and hang." + +Some time later, when Ken had changed seats and was talking to Raymond, +he heard Worry say to somebody: + +"Well, if Peg don't explode to-day he never will. I almost wish he would. +He'd be better for it, afterward." + +This surprised Ken, annoyed him, and straightway he became thoughtful. +Why this persistent harping on the chance of his getting excited from +one cause or another, losing his control and thereby the game? Ken had +not felt in the least nervous about the game. He would get so, presently, +if his advisers did not stop hinting. Then Worry's wish that he might +"explode" was puzzling. A little shade of gloom crept over the bright +horizon of Ken's hopes. Almost unconsciously vague doubts of himself +fastened upon him. For the first time he found himself looking forward +to a baseball game with less eagerness than uncertainty. Stubbornly he +fought off the mood. + +Place was situated in an old college town famed for its ancient trees +and quaint churches and inns. The Wayne varsity, arriving late, put on +their uniforms at the St. George, a tavern that seemed never to have +been in any way acquainted with a college baseball team. It was very +quiet and apparently deserted. For that matter the town itself appeared +deserted. The boys dressed hurriedly, in silence, with frowning brows +and compressed lips. Worry Arthurs remained down-stairs while they +dressed. Homans looked the team over and then said: + +"Boys, come on! To-day's our hardest game." + +It was only a short walk along the shady street to the outskirts of +the town and the athletic field. The huge stands blocked the view +from the back and side. Homans led the team under the bleachers, +through a narrow walled-in aisle, to the side entrance, and there +gave the word for the varsity to run out upon the field. A hearty +roar of applause greeted their appearance. + +Ken saw a beautiful green field, level as a floor, with a great +half-circle of stands and bleachers at one end. One glance was +sufficient to make Ken's breathing an effort. He saw a glittering +mass, a broad, moving band of color. Everywhere waved Place flags, +bright gold and blue. White faces gleamed like daisies on a golden +slope. In the bleachers close to the first base massed a shirt-sleeved +crowd of students, row on row of them, thousands in number. Ken +experienced a little chill as he attached the famous Place yell to +that significant placing of rooters. A soft breeze blew across the +field, and it carried low laughter and voices of girls, a merry hum, +and subdued murmur, and an occasional clear shout. The whole field +seemed keenly alive. + +From the bench Ken turned curious, eager eyes upon the practising +Place men. Never had he regarded players with as sharp an interest, +curiosity being mingled with admiration, and confidence with doubt. +MacNeff, the captain, at first base, veteran of three years, was a +tall, powerful fellow, bold and decisive in action. Prince, Place's +star on both gridiron and diamond, played at second base. He was very +short, broad and heavy, and looked as if he would have made three of +little Raymond. Martin, at short-stop, was of slim, muscular build. +Keene and Starke, in centre and left, were big men. Salisbury looked +all of six feet, and every inch a pitcher. He also played end on the +football varsity. Ken had to indulge in a laugh at the contrast in +height and weight of Wayne when compared to Place. The laugh was good +for him, because it seemed to loosen something hard and tight within +his breast. Besides, Worry saw him laugh and looked pleased, and that +pleased Ken. + +"Husky lot of stiffs, eh, Peg?" said Worry, reading Ken's thought. +"But, say! this ain't no football game. We'll make these heavyweights +look like ice-wagons. I never was much on beefy ball-players. Aha! +there goes the gong. Place's takin' the field. That suits me.... Peg, +listen! The game's on. I've only one word to say to you. _Try to keep +solid on your feet!_" + +A short cheer, electrifying in its force, pealed out like a blast. + +Then Homans stepped to the plate amid generous hand-clapping. The Place +adherents had their favorites, but they always showed a sportsmanlike +appreciation of opponents. Salisbury wound up, took an enormous stride, +and pitched the ball. He had speed. Homans seldom hit on the first +pitch, and this was a strike. But he rapped the next like a bullet at +Griffith, the third-baseman. Griffith blocked the ball, and, quickly +reaching it, he used a snap underhand throw to first, catching Homans +by a narrow margin. It was a fine play and the crowd let out another +blast. + +Raymond, coming up, began his old trick of trying to work the +pitcher for a base. He was small and he crouched down until a wag +in the bleachers yelled that this was no kindergarten game. Raymond +was exceedingly hard to pitch to. He was always edging over the plate, +trying to get hit. If anybody touched him in practice he would roar +like a mad bull, but in a game he would cheerfully have stopped +cannon-balls. He got in front of Salisbury's third pitch, and, +dropping his bat, started for first base. The umpire called him +back. Thereupon Raymond fouled balls and went through contortions +at the plate till he was out on strikes. + +When Reddy Ray took his position at bat audible remarks passed like +a wave through the audience. Then a long, hearty cheer greeted the +great sprinter. When roar once again subsided into waiting suspense +a strong-lunged Wayne rooter yelled, "_Watch him run!_" + +The outfielders edged out deeper and deeper. MacNeff called low to +Salisbury: "Don't let this fellow walk! Keep them high and make him +hit!" It was evident that Place had gotten a line on one Wayne player. + +Salisbury delivered the ball and Reddy whirled with his level swing. +There was a sharp crack. + +Up started the crowd with sudden explosive: "Oh!" + +Straight as a bee-line the ball sped to Keene in deep centre, and +Reddy was out. + +Wayne players went running out and Place players came trotting in. Ken, +however, at Worry's order, walked slowly and leisurely to the pitcher's +box. He received an ovation from the audience that completely surprised +him and which stirred him to warm gratefulness. Then, receiving the ball, +he drew one quick breath, and faced the stern issue of the day. + +As always, he had his pitching plan clearly defined in mind, and no +little part of it was cool deliberation, study of the batter to the +point of irritating him, and then boldness of action. He had learned +that he was not afraid to put the ball over the plate, and the knowledge +had made him bold, and boldness increased his effectiveness. + +For Keene, first batter up, Ken pitched his fast ball with all his +power. Like a glancing streak it shot over. A low whistling ran through +the bleachers. For the second pitch Ken took the same long motion, +ending in the sudden swing, but this time he threw a slow, wide, +tantalizing curve that floated and waved and circled around across +the plate. It also was a strike. Keene had not offered to hit either. +In those two balls, perfectly controlled, Ken deliberately showed the +Place team the wide extremes of his pitching game. + +"Keene, he don't waste any. Hit!" ordered MacNeff from the bench. +The next ball, a high curve, Keene hit on the fly to Homans. + +The flaxen-haired Prince trotted up with little, short steps. Ken did +not need the wild outburst from the crowd to appreciate this sturdy +hero of many gridiron and diamond battles. He was so enormously wide, +almost as wide as he was long, that he would have been funny to Ken but +for the reputation that went with the great shoulders and stumpy legs. + +"Ward, give me a good one," said Prince, in a low, pleasant voice. +He handled his heavy bat as if it had been light as a yardstick. + +It was with more boldness than intention of gratifying Prince that +Ken complied, using the same kind of ball he had tried first on Keene. +Prince missed it. The next, a low curve, he cracked hard to the left +of Raymond. The second-baseman darted over, fielded the ball cleanly, +and threw Prince out. + +Then the long, rangy MacNeff, home-run hitter for Place, faced Ken. +His position at bat bothered Ken, for he stood almost on the plate. +Remembering MacNeff's weakness, Ken lost no time putting a swift +in-shoot under his chin. The Place captain lunged round at it, +grunting with his swing. If he had hit the ball it would have been +with the handle of his bat. So Ken, knowing his control, and sure +that he could pitch high shoots all day over the incomer of the plate, +had no more fear of the Place slugger. And it took only three more +pitches to strike him out. + +From that on the game see-sawed inning by inning, Ken outpitching +Salisbury, but neither team scored. At intervals cheers marked the +good plays of both teams, and time and again the work of the pitchers +earned applause. The crowd seemed to be holding back, and while they +waited for the unexpected the short, sharp innings slipped by. + +Trace for Wayne led off in the seventh with a safe fly over short. Ken, +attempting to sacrifice, rolled a little bunt down the third-base line +and beat the throw. With no one out and the head of the batting list up, +the Wayne players awoke to possibilities. The same fiery intensity that +had characterized their play all season now manifested itself. They were +all on their feet, and Weir and McCord on the coaching lines were yelling +hoarsely at Salisbury, tearing up the grass with their spikes, dashing +to and fro, shouting advice to the runners. + +"Here's where we score! Oh! you pitcher! We're due to trim you now! +Steady, boys, play it safe, play it safe!--don't let them double you!" + +Up by the bench Homans was selecting a bat. + +"Worry, I'd better dump one," he whispered. + +"That's the trick," replied the coach. "Advance them at any cost. +There's Reddy to follow." + +The reliable Salisbury rolled the ball in his hands, feinted to throw +to the bases, and showed his steadiness under fire. He put one square +over for Homans and followed it upon the run. Homans made a perfect +bunt, but instead of going along either base line, it went straight +into the pitcher's hands. Salisbury whirled and threw to Prince, who +covered the bag, and forced Trace. One out and still two runners on +bases. The crowd uttered a yell and then quickly quieted down. Raymond +bent low over the plate and watched Salisbury's slightest move. He +bunted the first ball, and it went foul over the third-base line. +He twisted the second toward first base, and it, too, rolled foul. +And still he bent low as if to bunt again. The infield slowly edged +in closer. But Raymond straightened up on Salisbury's next pitch and +lined the ball out. Prince leaped into the air and caught the ball in +his gloved hand. Homans dove back into first base; likewise Ken into +second, just making it in the nick of time, for Martin was on the run +to complete a possible double play. A shout at once hoarse and shrill +went up, and heavy clattering thunder rolled along the floor of the +bleachers. Two out and still two men on bases. + +If there was a calm person on Place Field at that moment it was Reddy +Ray, but his eyes glinted like sparks as he glanced at the coach. + +"Worry, I'll lace one this time," he said, and strode for the plate. + +Weir and McCord were shrieking: "Oh, look who's up! Oh-h! Oh-h! +Play it safe, boys!" + +"_Watch him run!_" + +That came from the same deep-chested individual who had before hinted +of the sprinter's fleetness, and this time the Wayne players recognized +the voice of Murray. How hopeful and thrilling the suggestion was, +coming from him! + +The Place infield trotted to deep short-field; the outfielders moved +out and swung around far to the right. Salisbury settled down in the +box and appeared to put on extra effort as he delivered the ball. It +was wide. The next also went off the outside of the plate. It looked +as if Salisbury meant to pass Reddy to first. Then those on the bench +saw a glance and a nod pass between Reddy Ray and Coach Arthurs. Again +Salisbury pitched somewhat to the outside of the plate, but this time +Reddy stepped forward and swung. + +_Crack!_ + +Swift as an arrow and close to the ground the ball shot to left field. +Starke leaped frantically to head it off, and as it took a wicked bound +he dove forward head first, hands outstretched, and knocked it down. +But the ball rolled a few yards, and Starke had to recover from his +magnificent effort. + +No one on the field saw Ward and Homans running for the plate. All eyes +were on the gray, flitting shadow of a sprinter. One voice only, and +that was Murray's, boomed out in the silence. When Reddy turned second +base Starke reached the ball and threw for third. It was a beautiful +race between ball and runner for the bag. As Reddy stretched into the +air in a long slide the ball struck and shot off the ground with a +glancing bound. They reached the base at the same time. But Griffith, +trying to block the runner, went spinning down, and the ball rolled +toward the bleachers. Reddy was up and racing plateward so quickly +that it seemed he had not been momentarily checked. The few Wayne +rooters went wild. + +"Three runs!" yelled the delirious coaches. Weir was so overcome that +he did not know it was his turn at bat. When called in he hurried to +the plate and drove a line fly to centre that Keene caught only after +a hard run. + +Ken Ward rose from the bench to go out on the diamond. The voices of +his comrades sounded far away, as voices in a dream. + +"Three to the good now, Ward! It's yours!" said Captain Homans. + +"Only nine more batters! Peg, keep your feet leaded!" called Reddy Ray. + +"It's the seventh, and Place hasn't made a safe hit! Oh, Ken!" +came from Raymond. + +So all the boys vented their hope and trust in their pitcher. + +There was a mist before Ken's eyes that he could not rub away. The field +blurred at times. For five innings after the first he had fought some +unaccountable thing. He had kept his speed, his control, his memory of +batters, and he had pitched magnificently. But something had hovered +over him, and had grown more tangible as the game progressed. There was +a shadow always before his sight. + +In the last of the seventh, with Keene at bat, Ken faced the plate with +a strange unsteadiness and a shrinking for which he hated himself. What +was wrong with him? Had he been taken suddenly ill? Anger came to his +rescue, and he flung himself into his pitching with fierce ardor. He +quivered with a savage hope when Keene swung ineffectually at the high +in-shoot. He pitched another and another, and struck out the batter. +But now it meant little to see him slam down his bat in a rage. For +Ken had a foreboding that he could not do it again. When Prince came +up Ken found he was having difficulty in keeping the ball where he +wanted it. Prince batted a hot grounder to Blake, who fumbled. MacNeff +had three balls and one strike called upon him before he hit hard over +second base. But Raymond pounced upon the ball like a tiger, dashed +over the bag and threw to first, getting both runners. + +"Wull, Ken, make them hit to me," growled Raymond. + +Ken sat down upon the bench far from the coach. He shunned Worry in that +moment. The warm praise of his fellow-players was meaningless to him. +Something was terribly wrong. He knew he shrank from going into the box +again, yet dared not admit it to himself. He tried to think clearly, and +found his mind in a whirl. When the Wayne batters went out in one, two, +three order, and it was time for Ken to pitch again, he felt ice form in +his veins. + +"Only six more hitters!" called Reddy's warning voice. It meant cheer +and praise from Reddy, but to Ken it seemed a knell. + +"Am I weakening?" muttered Ken. "Am I going up in the air? _What_ is +wrong with me?" + +He was nervous now and could not stand still and he felt himself +trembling. The ball was wet from the sweat in his hands; his hair +hung damp over his brow and he continually blew it out of his eyes. +With all his spirit he crushed back the almost overwhelming desire +to hurry, hurry, hurry. Once more, in a kind of passion, he fought +off the dreaded unknown weakness. + +With two balls pitched to Starke he realized that he had lost control +of his curve. He was not frightened for the loss of his curve, but he +went stiff with fear that he might lose control of his fast ball, his +best and last resort. Grimly he swung and let drive. Starke lined the +ball to left. The crowd lifted itself with a solid roar, and when Homans +caught the hit near the foul flag, subsided with a long groan. Ken set +his teeth. He knew he was not right, but did any one else know it? He +was getting magnificent support and luck was still with him. + +"Over the pan, Peg! Don't waste one!" floated from Reddy, warningly. + +Then Ken felt sure that Reddy had seen or divined his panic. How soon +would the Place players find it out? With his throat swelling and his +mouth dry and his whole body in a ferment Ken pitched to Martin. The +short-stop hit to Weir, who made a superb stop and throw. Two out! + +From all about Ken on the diamond came the low encouraging calls of +his comrades. Horton, a burly left-hander, stepped forward, swinging +a wagon-tongue. Ken could no longer steady himself and he pitched +hurriedly. One ball, two balls, one strike, three balls--how the big +looming Horton stood waiting over the plate! Almost in despair Ken +threw again, and Horton smote the ball with a solid rap. It was a low +bounder. Raymond pitched forward full length toward first base and the +ball struck in his glove with a crack, and stuck there. Raymond got up +and tossed it to McCord. A thunder of applause greeted this star play +of the game. + +The relief was so great that Ken fairly tottered as he went in to the +bench. Worry did not look at him. He scarcely heard what the boys said; +he felt them patting him on the back. Then to his amaze, and slowly +mounting certainty of disaster, the side was out, and it was again his +turn to pitch. + +"Only three more, Peg! The tail end of the batting list. _Hang on!_" +said Reddy, as he trotted out. + +Ken's old speed and control momentarily came back to him. Yet he felt +he pitched rather by instinct than intent. He struck Griffith out. + +"Only two more, Peg!" called Reddy. + +The great audience sat in depressed, straining silence. Long since the +few Wayne rooters had lost their vocal powers. + +Conroy hit a high fly to McCord. + +"Oh, Peg, _only one more!_" came the thrilling cry. No other Wayne +player could speak a word then. + +With Salisbury up, Ken had a momentary flash of his old spirit and he +sent a straight ball over the plate, meaning it to be hit. Salisbury +did hit it, and safely, through short. The long silent, long waiting +crowd opened up with yells and stamping feet. + +A horrible, cold, deadly sickness seized upon Ken as he faced the fleet, +sure-hitting Keene. He lost his speed, he lost his control. Before he +knew what had happened he had given Keene a base on balls. Two on bases +and two out! + +The Place players began to leap and fling up their arms and scream. When +out of their midst Prince ran to the plate a piercing, ear-splitting +sound pealed up from the stands. As in a haze Ken saw the long lines of +white-sleeved students become violently agitated and move up and down +to strange, crashing yells. + +Then Ken Ward knew. That was the famed Place cheer for victory at the +last stand. It was the trumpet-call of Ken's ordeal. His mind was as +full of flashes of thought as there were streaks and blurs before his +eyes. He understood Worry now. He knew now what was wrong with him, what +had been coming all through that terrible game. The whole line of stands +and bleachers wavered before him, and the bright colors blended in one +mottled band. + +Still it was in him to fight to the last gasp. The pain in his breast, +and the nausea in his stomach, and the whirling fury in his mind did not +make him give up, though they robbed him of strength. The balls he threw +to Prince were wide of the plate and had nothing of his old speed. Prince, +also, took his base on balls. + +Bases full and two out! + +MacNeff, the captain, fronted the plate, and shook his big bat at Ken. +Of all the Place hitters Ken feared him the least. He had struck MacNeff +out twice, and deep down in his heart stirred a last desperate rally. +He had only to keep the ball high and in close to win this game. Oh! +for the control that had been his pride! + +The field and stands seemed to swim round Ken and all he saw with his +half-blinded eyes was the white plate, the batter, and Dean and the +umpire. Then he took his swing and delivered the ball. + +It went true. MacNeff missed it. + +Ken pitched again. The umpire held up one finger of each hand. +One ball and one strike. Two more rapid pitches, one high and one +wide. Two strikes and two balls. + +Ken felt his head bursting and there were glints of red before his eyes. +He bit his tongue to keep it from lolling out. He was almost done. That +ceaseless, infernal din had benumbed his being. With a wrenching of his +shoulder Ken flung up another ball. MacNeff leaned over it, then let it +go by. + +Three and two! + +It was torture for Ken. He had the game in his hands, yet could not +grasp it. He braced himself for the pitch and gave it all he had left +in him. + +"_Too low!_" he moaned. MacNeff killed low balls. + +The big captain leaped forward with a terrific swing and hit the ball. +It lined over short, then began to rise, shot over Homans, and soared +far beyond, to drop and roll and roll. + +Through darkening sight Ken Ward saw runner after runner score, and saw +Homans pick up the ball as MacNeff crossed the plate with the winning +run. In Ken's ears seemed a sound of the end of the world. + +He thought himself the centre of a flying wheel. It was the boys +crowding around him. He saw their lips move but caught no words. +Then choking and tottering, upheld by Reddy Ray's strong arm, the +young pitcher walked off the field. + + + + +XVII + +KEN'S DAY + + +The slow return to the tavern, dressing and going to the station, the +ride home, the arrival at the training-house, the close-pressing, silent +companionship of Reddy Ray, Worry, and Raymond--these were dim details +of that day of calamity. Ken Ward's mind was dead--locked on that fatal +moment when he pitched a low ball to MacNeff. His friends left him in +the darkness of his room, knowing instinctively that it was best for +him to be alone. + +Ken undressed and crawled wearily into bed and stretched out as if he +knew and was glad he would never move his limbs again. The silence and +the darkness seemed to hide him from himself. His mind was a whirling +riot of fire, and in it was a lurid picture of that moment with MacNeff +at bat. Over and over and over he lived it in helpless misery. His ears +were muffled with that huge tide of sound. Again and again and again he +pitched the last ball, to feel his heart stop beating, to see the big +captain lunge at the ball, to watch it line and rise and soar. + +But gradually exhaustion subdued his mental strife, and he wandered in +mind and drifted into sleep. When he woke it was with a cold, unhappy +shrinking from the day. His clock told the noon hour; he had slept +long. Outside the June sunlight turned the maple leaves to gold. Was +it possible, Ken wondered dully, for the sun ever to shine again? Then +Scotty came bustling in. + +"Mr. Wau-rd, won't ye be hovin' breakfast?" he asked, anxiously. + +"Scotty, I'll never eat again," replied Ken. + +There were quick steps upon the stairs and Worry burst in, rustling +a newspaper. + +"Hello, old man!" he called, cheerily. "Say! Look at this!" + +He thrust the paper before Ken's eyes and pointed to a column: + + + Place Beat Wayne by a Lucky Drive. Young Ward + Pitched the Greatest Game Ever Pitched on + Place Field and Lost It in the Ninth, with + Two Men Out and Three and Two on MacNeff + + +Ken's dull, gloom-steeped mind underwent a change, but he could not +speak. He sat up in bed, clutching the paper, and gazing from it to +the coach. Raymond came in, followed by Homans, and, last, Reddy Ray, +who sat down upon the bed. They were all smiling, and that seemed +horrible to Ken. + +"But, Worry--Reddy--I--I lost the game--threw it away!" faltered Ken. + +"Oh no, Peg. You pitched a grand game. Only in the stretch you got one +ball too low," said Reddy. + +"Peg, you started to go up early in the game," added Worry, with a smile, +as if the fact was amusing. "You made your first balloon-ascension in +the seventh. And in the ninth you exploded. I never seen a better case +of up-in-the-air. But, Peg, in spite of it you pitched a wonderful game. +You had me guessin'. I couldn't take you out of the box. Darn me if I +didn't think you'd shut Place out in spite of your rattles!" + +"Then--after all--it's not so terrible?" Ken asked, breathlessly. + +"Why, boy, it's all right. We can lose a game, and to lose one like +that--it's as good as winnin'. Say! I'm a liar if I didn't see 'em +Place hitters turnin' gray-headed! Listen! That game over there was +tough on all the kids, you most of all, of course. But you all stood +the gaff. You've fought out a grillin' big game away from home. That's +over. You'll never go through that again. But it was the makin' of +you.... Here, look this over! Mebbe it'll cheer you up." + +He took something from Raymond and tossed it upon the bed. It looked +like a round, red, woolly bundle. Ken unfolded it, to disclose a +beautiful sweater, with a great white "W" in the centre. + +"The boys all got 'em this mornin'," added Worry. + +It was then that the tragedy of the Place game lost its hold on Ken, +and retreated until it stood only dimly in outline. + +"I'll--I'll be down to lunch," said Ken, irrelevantly. + +His smiling friends took the hint and left the room. + +Ken hugged the sweater while reading the _Times-Star's_ account of the +game. Whoever the writer was, Ken loved him. Then he hid his face in +the pillow, and though he denied to himself that he was crying, when he +arose it was certain that the pillow was wet. + +An hour later Ken presented himself at lunch, once more his old amiable +self. The boys freely discussed baseball--in fact, for weeks they had +breathed and dreamed baseball--but Ken noted, for the first time, where +superiority was now added to the old confidence. The Wayne varsity had +found itself. It outclassed Herne; it was faster than Place; it stood +in line for championship honors. + +"Peg, you needn't put on your uniform to-day," said the coach. +"You rest up. But go over to Murray and have your arm rubbed. +Is it sore or stiff?" + +"Not at all. I could work again to-day," replied Ken. + +That afternoon, alone in his room, he worked out his pitching plan +for Saturday's game. It did not differ materially from former plans. +But for a working basis he had self-acquired knowledge of the Place +hitters. It had been purchased at dear cost. He feared none of them +except Prince. He decided to use a high curve ball over the plate +and let Prince hit, trusting to luck and the players behind him. Ken +remembered how the Place men had rapped hard balls at Raymond. Most +of them were right-field hitters. Ken decided to ask Homans to play +Reddy Ray in right field. Also he would arrange a sign with Reddy and +Raymond and McCord so they would know when he intended to pitch speed +on the outside corner of the plate. For both his curve and fast ball +so pitched were invariably hit toward right field. When it came to +MacNeff, Ken knew from the hot rankling deep down in him that he would +foil that hitter. He intended to make the others hit, pitching them +always, to the best of his judgment and skill, those balls they were +least likely to hit safely, yet which would cut the corners of the +plate if let go. No bases on balls this game, that he vowed grimly. +And if he got in a pinch he would fall back upon his last resort, the +fast jump ball; and now that he had gone through his baptism of fire +he knew he was not likely to lose his control. So after outlining his +plan he believed beyond reasonable doubt that he could win the game. + +The evening of that day he confided his plan to Reddy Ray and had the +gratification of hearing it warmly commended. While Ken was with Reddy +the coach sent word up to all rooms that the boys were to "cut" baseball +talk. They were to occupy their minds with reading, study, or games. + +"It's pretty slow," said Reddy. "Peg, let's have some fun with somebody." + +"I'm in. What'll we do?" + +"Can't you think? You're always leaving schemes to me. +Use your brains, boy." + +Ken pondered a moment and then leaped up in great glee. + +"Reddy, I've got something out of sight," he cried. + +"Spring it, then." + +"Well, it's this: Kel Raymond is perfectly crazy about his new sweater. +He moons over it and he carries it around everywhere. Now it happens +that Kel is a deep sleeper. He's hard to wake up. I've always had to +shake him and kick him to wake him every morning. I'm sure we could get +him in that sweater without waking him. So to-morrow morning you come +down early, before seven, and help me put the sweater on Kel. We'll +have Worry and the boys posted and we'll call them in to see Kel, and +then we'll wake him and swear he slept in his sweater." + +"Peg, you've a diabolical bent of mind. That'll be great. I'll be on +the job bright and early." + +Ken knew he could rely on the chattering of the sparrows in the +woodbine round his window. They always woke him, and this morning +was no exception. It was after six and a soft, balmy breeze blew in. +Ken got up noiselessly and dressed. Raymond snored in blissful +ignorance of the conspiracy. Presently a gentle tapping upon the +door told Ken that Reddy was in the hall. Ken let him in and they +held a whispered consultation. + +"Let's see," said Reddy, picking up the sweater. "It's going to be an +all-fired hard job. This sweater's tight. We'll wake him." + +"Not on your life!" exclaimed Ken. "Not if we're quick. Now you roll +up the sweater so--and stretch it on your hands--so--and when I lift +Kel up you slip it over his head. It'll be like pie." + +The operation was deftly though breathlessly performed, and all it +brought from Raymond was a sleepy: "Aw--lemme sleep," and then he +was gone again. + +Ken and Reddy called all the boys, most of whom were in their pajamas, +and Worry and Scotty and Murray, and got them all up-stairs in Raymond's +room. Raymond lay in bed very innocently asleep, and no one would have +suspected that he had not slept in his sweater. + +"Well, I'll be dog-goned!" ejaculated Worry, laughing till he cried. +Murray was hugely delighted. These men were as much boys as the boys +they trained. + +The roar of laughter awakened Raymond, and he came out of sleep very +languid and drowsy. + +"Aw, Ken, lemme sleep s'more." + +He opened his eyes and, seeing the room full of boys and men, he looked +bewildered, then suspicious. + +"Wull, what do all you guys want?" + +"We only came in to see you asleep in your new varsity sweater," +replied Ken, with charming candor. + +At this Raymond discovered the sweater and he leaped out of bed. + +"It's a lie! I never slept in it! Somebody jobbed me! +I'll lick him!... It's a lie, I say!" + +He began to hop up and down in a black fury. The upper half of him +was swathed in the red sweater; beneath that flapped the end of his +short nightgown; and out of that stuck his thin legs, all knotted +and spotted with honorable bruises won in fielding hard-batted balls. +He made so ludicrous a sight that his visitors roared with laughter. +Raymond threw books, shoes, everything he could lay his hands upon, +and drove them out in confusion. + +Saturday seemed a long time in arriving, but at last it came. All +morning the boys kept close under cover of the training-house. Some +one sent them a package of placards. These were round, in the shape +of baseballs. They were in the college colors, the background of which +was a bright red, and across this had been printed in white the words: +"_Peg Ward's Day!_" + +"What do you think of that?" cried the boys, with glistening eyes. +But Ken was silent. + +Worry came in for lunch and reported that the whole west end of the +city had been placarded. + +"The students have had millions of 'em cards printed," said Worry. +"They're everywhere. Murray told me there was a hundred students +tackin' 'em up on the stands and bleachers. They've got 'em on +sticks of wood for pennants for the girls.... 'Peg Ward's Day!' +Well, I guess!" + +At two-thirty o'clock the varsity ran upon the field, to the welcoming +though somewhat discordant music of the university band. What the music +lacked in harmony it made up in volume, and as noise appeared to be the +order of the day, it was most appropriate. However, a great booming +cheer from the crowded stands drowned the band. + +It was a bright summer day, with the warm air swimming in the thick, +golden light of June, with white clouds sailing across the blue sky. +Grant Field resembled a beautiful crater with short, sloping sides +of white and gold and great splashes of red and dots of black all +encircling a round lake of emerald. Flashes of gray darted across +the green, and these were the Place players in practice. Everywhere +waved and twinkled and gleamed the red-and-white Wayne placards. And +the front of the stands bore wide-reaching bands of these colored cards. +The grand-stand, with its pretty girls and gowns, and waving pennants, +and dark-coated students, resembled a huge mosaic of many colors, +moving and flashing in the sunlight. One stand set apart for the Place +supporters was a solid mass of blue and gold. And opposite to it, in +vivid contrast, was a long circle of bleachers, where five thousand +red-placarded, red-ribboned Wayne students sat waiting to tear the +air into shreds with cheers. Dale and Stevens and Bryan, wearing their +varsity sweaters, strode to and fro on the cinder-path, and each carried +a megaphone. Cheers seemed to lurk in the very atmosphere. A soft, happy, +subdued roar swept around the field. Fun and good-nature and fair-play +and love of college pervaded that hum of many voices. Yet underneath it +all lay a suppressed spirit, a hidden energy, waiting for the battle. + +When Wayne had finished a brief, snappy practice, Kern, a National +League umpire, called the game, with Place at bat. Ken Ward walked to +the pitcher's slab amid a prolonged outburst, and ten thousand red cards +bearing his name flashed like mirrors against the sunlight. Then the +crashing Place yell replied in defiance. + +Ken surveyed his fellow-players, from whom came low, inspiriting words; +then, facing the batter, Keene, he eyed him in cool speculation, and +swung into supple action. + +The game started with a rush. Keene dumped the ball down the third-base +line. Blake, anticipating the play, came rapidly in, and bending while +in motion picked up the ball and made a perfect snap-throw to McCord, +beating Keene by a foot. Prince drove a hot grass-cutter through the +infield, and the Place stand let out shrill, exultant yells. MacNeff +swung powerfully on the first ball, which streaked like a flitting wing +close under his chin. Prince, with a good lead, had darted for second. +It was wonderful how his little, short legs carried him so swiftly. And +his slide was what might have been expected of a famous football player. +He hit the ground and shot into the bag just as Raymond got Dean's +unerring throw too late. Again the Place rooters howled. MacNeff +watched his second strike go by. The third pitch, remorselessly true +to that fatal place, retired him on strikes; and a roll of thunder +pealed from under the Wayne bleachers. Starke struck at the first ball +given him. The Place waiters were not waiting on Ken to-day; evidently +the word had gone out to hit. Ken's beautiful, speedy ball, breast high, +was certainly a temptation. Starke lifted a long, lofty fly far beyond +Homans, who ran and ran, and turned to get it gracefully at his breast. + +Worry Arthurs sat stern and intent upon the Wayne bench. "Get that hit +back and go them a run better!" was his sharp order. + +The big, loose-jointed Salisbury, digging his foot into the dirt, +settled down and swung laboriously. Homans waited. The pitch was a +strike, and so was the next. But strikes were small matters for the +patient Homans. He drew three balls after that, and then on the next +he hit one of his short, punky safeties through the left side of the +infield. The Wayne crowd accepted it with vigor of hands and feet. +Raymond trotted up, aggressive and crafty. He intended to bunt, and +the Place infield knew it and drew in closer. Raymond fouled one, then +another, making two strikes. But he dumped the next and raced for the +base. Salisbury, big and slow as he was, got the ball and threw Raymond +out. Homans over-ran second, intending to go on, but, halted by Weir's +hoarse coaching, he ran back. + +When Reddy Ray stepped out it was to meet a rousing cheer, and then the +thousands of feet went crash! crash! crash! Reddy fouled the first ball +over the grand-stand. Umpire Kern threw out a new one, gleaming white. +The next two pitches were wide; the following one Reddy met with the +short poke he used when hitting to left field. The ball went over +Martin's head, scoring Homans with the first run of the game. That +allowed the confident Wayne crowd to get up and yell long and loud. +Weir fouled out upon the first ball pitched, and Blake, following him, +forced Reddy out at second on an infield hit. + +Place tied the score in the second inning on Weir's fumble of Martin's +difficult grounder, a sacrifice by Horton, and Griffith's safe fly back +of second. + +With the score tied, the teams blanked inning after inning until the +fifth. Wayne found Salisbury easy to bat, but a Place player was always +in front of the hit. And Place found Peg Ward unsolvable when hits meant +runs. Ken kept up his tireless, swift cannonading over the plate, making +his opponents hit, and when they got a runner on base he extended himself +with the fast raise ball. In the first of the fifth, with two out, Prince +met one of Ken's straight ones hard and fair and drove the ball into +the bleachers for a home-run. That solid blue-and-gold square of Place +supporters suddenly became an insane tossing, screeching melee. + +The great hit also seemed to unleash the fiery spirit which had waited +its chance. The Wayne players came in for their turn like angry bees. +Trace got a base on balls. Dean sacrificed. Ken also essayed to bunt +and fouled himself out on strikes. Again Homans hit safely, but the +crafty Keene, playing close, held Trace at third. + +"We want the score!" Crash! crash! crash! went the bleachers. + +With Raymond up and two out, the chance appeared slim, for he was not +strong at batting. But he was great at trying, and this time, as luck +would have it, he hit clean through second. Trace scored, and Homans, +taking desperate risk, tried to reach home on the hit and failed. It +was fast, exciting work, and the crowd waxed hotter and hotter. + +For Place the lumbering Horton hit a twisting grounder to McCord, who +batted it down with his mitt, jumped for it, turned and fell on the base, +but too late to get his man. Griffith swung on Ken's straight ball and, +quite by accident, blocked a little bunt out of reach of both Dean and +Ken. It was a safe hit. Conroy stepped into Ken's fast ball, which ticked +his shirt, and the umpire sent him down to first amid the vociferous +objections of the Wayne rooters. + +Three runners on bases and no one out. How the Place students bawled +and beat their seats and kicked the floor! + +Ken took a longer moment of deliberation. He showed no sign that the +critical situation unnerved him. But his supple shoulders knit closer, +and his long arm whipped harder as he delivered the ball. + +Salisbury, a poor batter, apparently shut his eyes and swung with +all his might. All present heard the ringing crack of the bat, but +few saw the ball. Raymond leaped lengthwise to the left and flashed +out his glove. There was another crack, of different sound. Then +Raymond bounded over second base, kicking the bag, and with fiendish +quickness sped the ball to first. Kern, the umpire, waved both arms +wide. Then to the gasping audience the play became clear. Raymond +had caught Salisbury's line hit in one hand, enabling him to make a +triple play. A mighty shout shook the stands. Then strong, rhythmic, +lusty cheers held the field in thrall for the moment, while the teams +changed sides. + +In Wayne's half of the sixth both Weir and McCord hit safely, +but sharp fielding by Place held them on base. + +Again the formidable head of Place's batting order was up. Keene lined +to right field, a superb hit that looked good for a triple, but it had +not the speed to get beyond the fleet sprinter. + +Ken eyed the curly-haired Prince as if he was saying to himself: +"I'm putting them over to-day. Hit if you can!" + +Prince appeared to jump up and chop Ken's first pitch. The ball +struck on fair ground and bounded very high, and was a safe hit. +Prince took a long lead off first base, and three times slid back +to the bag when Ken tried to catch him. The fast football man +intended to steal; Ken saw it, Dean saw it; everybody saw it. +Whereupon Ken delivered a swift ball outside of the plate. As +Prince went down little Dean caught the pitch and got the ball +away quick as lightning. Raymond caught it directly in the base-line, +and then, from the impact of the sliding Prince, he went hurtling +down. Runner, baseman, and ball disappeared in a cloud of dust. +Kern ran nimbly down the field and waved Prince off. + +But Raymond did not get up. The umpire called time. Worry Arthurs +ran out, and he and Weir carried Raymond to the bench, where they +bathed his head and wiped the blood from his face. + +Presently Raymond opened his eyes. + +"Wull, what struck me?" he asked. + +"Oh, nothin'. There was a trolley loose in the field," replied Worry. +"Can you get up? Why did you try to block that football rusher?" + +Raymond shook his head. + +"Did I tag the big fat devil?" he queried, earnestly. "Is he out?" + +"You got him a mile," replied Worry. + +After a few moments Raymond was able to stand upon his feet, but he +was so shaky that Worry sent Schoonover to second. + +Then the cheering leaders before the bleachers bellowed through their +megaphones, and the students, rising to their feet, pealed out nine +ringing "_Waynes!_" and added a roaring "Raymond!" to the end. + +With two out, Kern called play. + +Once again MacNeff was at bat. He had not made a foul in his two times +up. He was at Ken's mercy, and the Wayne rooters were equally merciless. + +"Ho! the slugging captain comes!" + +"Get him a board!" + +"Fluke hitter!" + +"Mac, that was a lucky stab of yours Wednesday! Hit one _now_!" + +No spectator of that game missed Ken's fierce impetuosity when he +faced MacNeff. He was as keen strung as a wire when he stood erect +in the box, and when he got into motion he whirled far around, swung +back bent, like a spring, and seemed to throw his whole body with the +ball. One--two--three strikes that waved up in their velocity, and +MacNeff for the third time went out. + +Clatter and smash came from the bleachers, long stamping of feet, +whistle and bang, for voices had become weak. + +A hit, an error, a double play, another hit, a steal, and a forced +out--these told Wayne's dogged, unsuccessful trial for the winning run. + +But Worry Arthurs had curtly said to his pitcher: "Peg, cut loose!" +and man after man for Place failed to do anything with his terrific +speed. It was as if Ken had reserved himself wholly for the finish. + +In the last of the eighth Dean hit one that caromed off Griffith's shin, +and by hard running the little catcher made second. Ken sent him to third +on a fielder's choice. It was then the run seemed forthcoming. Salisbury +toiled in the box to coax the wary Homans. The Wayne captain waited until +he got a ball to his liking. Martin trapped the hit and shot the ball +home to catch Dean. It was another close decision, as Dean slid with the +ball, but the umpire decided against the runner. + +"Peg, lam them over now!" called Reddy Ray. + +It was the first of the ninth, with the weak end of Place's hitting +strength to face Ken. Griffith, Conroy, Salisbury went down before +him as grass before a scythe. To every hitter Ken seemed to bring +more effort, more relentless purpose to baffle them, more wonderful +speed and control of his fast ball. + +Through the stands and bleachers the word went freely that the game +would go to ten innings, eleven innings, twelve innings, with the +chances against the tiring Salisbury. + +But on the Wayne bench there was a different order of conviction. Worry +sparkled like flint. Homans, for once not phlegmatic, faced the coaching +line at third. Raymond leaned pale and still against the bench. Ken was +radiant. + +Reddy Ray bent over the row of bats and singled out his own. His strong, +freckled hands clenched the bat and whipped it through the air. His eyes +were on fire when he looked at the stricken Raymond. + +"Kel, something may happen yet before I get up to the plate," he said. +"But if it doesn't--" + +Then he strode out, knocked the dirt from his spikes, and stepped into +position. Something about Reddy at that moment, or something potent in +the unforeseen play to come, quieted the huge crowd. + +Salisbury might have sensed it. He fussed with the ball and took a long +while to pitch. Reddy's lithe form whirled around and seemed to get into +running motion with the crack of the ball. Martin made a beautiful pick-up +of the sharply bounding ball, but he might as well have saved himself the +exertion. The championship sprinter beat the throw by yards. + +Suddenly the whole Wayne contingent arose in a body, a tribute to what +they expected of Reddy, and rent Grant Field with one tremendous outburst. + +As it ceased a hoarse voice of stentorian volume rose and swelled on +the air. + +"_Wayne wins!_ WATCH HIM RUN!" + +It came from Murray, who loved his great sprinter. + +Thrice Salisbury threw to MacNeff to hold Reddy close to first base, +but he only wasted his strength. Then he turned toward the batter, +and he had scarcely twitched a muscle in the beginning of his swing, +when the keen sprinter was gone like a flash. His running gave the +impression of something demon-like forced by the wind. He had covered +the ground and was standing on the bag when Prince caught Conroy's throw. + +Pandemonium broke out in the stands and bleachers, and a piercing, +continuous scream. The sprinter could not be stopped. That was plain. +He crouched low, watching Salisbury. Again and again the pitcher tried +to keep Reddy near second base, but as soon as Martin or Prince returned +the ball Reddy took his lead off the bag. He meant to run on the first +pitch; he was on his toes. And the audience went wild, and the Place +varsity showed a hurried, nervous strain. They yelled to Salisbury, +but neither he nor any one else could have heard a thunderbolt in +that moment. + +Again Salisbury toed the rubber, and he hesitated, with his face turned +toward second. But he had to pitch the ball, and as his elbow trembled +the sprinter shot out of his tracks with the start that had made him +famous. His red hair streaked in the wind like a waving flame. His +beautiful stride swallowed distance. Then he sailed low and slid into +the base as the ball struck Griffith's hands. + +Reddy was on third now, with no one out, with two balls upon Weir and +no strikes. In the fury of sound runner and batter exchanged a glance +that was a sign. + +The sprinter crouched low, watching Salisbury. For the third time, +as the pitcher vibrated with the nervous force preceding his delivery, +Reddy got his start. He was actually running before the ball left +Salisbury's hand. Almost it seemed that with his marvellous fleetness +he was beating the ball to the plate. But as the watchers choked in +agony of suspense Weir bunted the ball, and Reddy Ray flashed across +the plate with the winning run. + +Then all that seemed cheering, din, and stamping roar deadened in an +earth-shaking sound like an avalanche. + +The students piled out of the bleachers in streams and poured +on the field. An irresistible, hungry, clamoring flood, they +submerged the players. + +Up went Ken upon sturdy shoulders, and up went Reddy Ray and +Kel and Homans and Dean--all the team, and last the red-faced +Worry Arthurs. Then began the triumphant march about Grant Field +and to the training-house. + +It was a Wayne day, a day for the varsity, for Homans and Raymond, +and for the great sprinter, but most of all it was Peg Ward's day. + + + + +XVIII + +BREAKING TRAINING + + +The Wayne varsity was a much-handled, storm-tossed team before it +finally escaped the clutches of the students. Every player had a +ringing in his ears and a swelling in his heart. When the baseball +uniforms came off they were carefully packed in the bottoms of trunks, +and twelve varsity sweaters received as tender care as if they were +the flimsy finery dear to the boys' sisters. + +At six the players were assembled in the big reading-room, and there +was a babel of exultant conversation. Worry suddenly came in, shouting +to persons without, who manifestly wanted to enter. "Nothin' doin' yet! +I'll turn the boys over to you in one hour!" Then he banged the door +and locked it. + +Worry was a sight to behold. His collar was unbuttoned, and his necktie +disarranged. He had no hat. His hair was damp and rumpled, and his red +face worked spasmodically. + +"Where's Peg?" he yelled, and his little bright eyes blinked at his +players. It was plain that Worry could not see very well then. Some +one pushed Ken out, and Worry fell on his neck. He hugged him close +and hard. Then he dived at Reddy and mauled him. Next he fell all over +little crippled Raymond, who sat propped up in an arm-chair. For once +Raymond never murmured for being jumped on. Upon every player, and even +the substitutes, Worry expressed his joy in violent manner, and then he +fell down himself, perspiring, beaming, utterly exhausted. This man was +not the cold, caustic coach of the cage-days, nor the stern, hard ruler +from the bench, nor the smooth worker on his players' feelings. This was +Worry Arthurs with his varsity at the close of a championship season. +No one but the boys who had fought at his bidding for Wayne ever saw +him like that. + +"Oh, Peg, it was glorious! This game gives us the record and the +championship. Say, Peg, this was the great game for you to win. +For you made Place hit, and then when they got runners on bases +you shut down on 'em. You made MacNeff look like a dub. You gave +that home-run to Prince." + +"I sure was after MacNeff's scalp," replied Ken. "And I put the ball +over for Prince to hit. What else could I do? Why, that little chunky +cuss has an eye, and he can sting the ball--he's almost as good as Reddy. +But, Worry, you mustn't give me the credit. Reddy won the game, you know." + +"You talk like a kid," replied Reddy, for once not cool and easy. +"I cut loose and ran some; but, Peg, you and Raymond won the game." + +"Wull, you make me sick," retorted Raymond, threatening to get up. +"There wasn't anything to this day but Peg Ward." + +Ken replied with more heat than dignity, and quick as a flash he and +Reddy and Raymond were involved in a wordy war, trying to place the +credit for winning the game. They dragged some of the other boys into +the fierce argument. + +Worry laughed and laughed; then, as this loyal bunch of players +threatened to come to blows, he got angry. + +"_Shut up!_" he roared. "I never seen such a lot of hot-headed kids. +Shut up, and let me tell you who won this Place game. It'll go down +on record as a famous game, so you'll do well to have it straight. +Listen! The Wayne varsity won this game. Homans, your captain, won it, +because he directed the team and followed orders. He hit and run some, +too. Reddy Ray won this game by bein' a blue streak of chain lightnin' +on the bases. Raymond won it by makin' a hit when we all expected +him to fall dead. He won it twice, the second time with the greatest +fieldin' play ever pulled off on Grant Field. Dean won the game by +goin' up and hangin' onto Peg's jump ball. McCord won it by diggin' +low throws out of the dirt. Weir was around when it happened, wasn't +he--and Blake and Trace? Then there was Peg himself. He won the game +a _little_. Say! he had Place trimmed when he stepped on the slab in +the first innin'. So you all won the big Wayne-Place game." + +Then Worry advanced impressively to the table, put his hand in his +breast pocket and brought forth a paper. + +"You've won this for me, boys," he said, spreading the paper out. + +"What is it?" they asked, wonderingly. + +"Nothin' of much importance to you boys as compared with winnin' +the game, but some to Worry Arthurs." He paused with a little choke. +"It's a five-year contract to coach Wayne's baseball teams." + +A thundering cheer attested to the importance of that document +to the boys. + +"Oh, Worry, but I'm glad!" cried Ken. "Then your son Harry will be +in college next year--will be on the team?" + +"Say, he'll have to go some to make next year's varsity, with only +two or three vacancies to fill. Now, fellows, I want to know things. +Sit down now and listen." + +They all took seats, leaving the coach standing at the table. + +"Homans, is there any hope of your comin' back to college next year?" + +"None, I'm sorry to say," replied the captain. "Father intends to put +me in charge of his business." + +"Reddy, how about a post-graduate course for you? You need that P.G." + +"Worry, come to think of it, I really believe my college education +would not be complete without that P.G.," replied Reddy, with the +old cool speech, and a merry twinkle in his eye. + +At this the boys howled like Indians, and Worry himself did a +little war-dance. + +"Raymond, you'll come back?" went on the coach. + +The second-baseman appeared highly insulted. "Come back? Wull, what +do you take me for? I'd like to see the guy who can beat me out of +my place next season." + +This brought another hearty cheer. + +Further questioning made clear that all the varsity except Homans, +Blake, and McCord would surely return to college. + +"Fine! Fine! Fine!" exclaimed Worry. + +Then he began to question each player as to what he intended to +do through the summer months, and asked him to promise not to play +ball on any summer nines. + +"Peg, you're the one I'm scared about," said Worry, earnestly. "These +crack teams at the seashore and in the mountains will be hot after you. +They've got coin too, Peg, and they'll spend it to get you." + +"All I've got to say is they'll waste their breath talking to me," +replied Ken, with a short laugh. + +"What are you goin' to do all summer?" asked Worry, curiously. +"Where will you be?" + +"I expect to go to Arizona." + +"Arizona? What in the deuce are you goin' way out there for?" + +Ken paused, and then when about to reply Raymond burst out. + +"Worry, he says it's forestry, but he only took up that fool subject +because he likes to chase around in the woods. He's nutty about trees +and bears and mustangs. He was in Arizona last summer. You ought to +hear some of the stories he's told me. Why, if they're true he's got +Frank Nelson and Jim Hawkins skinned to a frazzle." + +"For instance?" asked Worry, very much surprised and interested. + +"Why stories about how he was chased and captured by outlaws, and +lassoed bears, and had scraps with Mexicans, and was in wild caves +and forest fires, and lots about a Texas ranger who always carried +two big guns. I've had the nightmare ever since we've been in the +training-house. Oh, Ken can tell stories all right. He's as much +imagination as he's got speed with a ball. And say, Worry, he's got +the nerve to tell me that this summer he expects to help an old hunter +lasso mountain-lions out there in Arizona. What do you think of that?" + +"It's straight goods!" protested Ken, solemnly facing the +bright-eyed boys. + +"We want to go along!" yelled everybody. + +"Say, Peg, I ain't stuck on that idee, not a little bit," +replied the coach, dubiously. + +"Worry has begun to worry about next season. He's afraid Peg will +get that arm chewed off," put in Reddy. + +"Well, if I've got to choose between lettin' Peg chase mountain-lions +and seein' him chased by 'em fat-head directors, I'll take my chances +with the lions." + +Then all in a moment Worry became serious. + +"Boys, it's time to break trainin'. I ain't got much to say. You're the +best team I ever developed. Let it go at that. In a few minutes you are +free to go out to the banquets and receptions, to all that's waitin' for +you. And it will be great. To-morrow you will be sayin' good-bye to me +and to each other and scatterin' to your homes. But let's not forget +each other and how we plugged this year. Sure, it was only baseball, +but, after all, I think good, hard play, on the square and against long +odds, will do as much for you as your studies. Let the old baseball +coach assure you of that." + +He paused, paced a few steps to and fro, hands behind his back, +thoughtful and somewhat sad. + +The members of the varsity sat pale and still, faces straight before +them, eyes shining with memory of that long up-hill struggle, and +glistening, too, with the thought that the time had come for parting. + +"Homans, will you please see to the election of the new captain?" +said Worry. + +Homans stepped out briskly and placed a hat, twelve folded slips of +paper, and a pencil upon the table. + +"Fellows, you will follow me in our regular batting order," directed +Homans. "Each man is to write his name on one side of a slip of paper +and his choice for captain on the other side. Drop the paper in the hat." + +Homans seated himself at the table and quickly cast his vote. Raymond +hobbled up next. Reddy Ray followed him. And so, in silence, and with +a certain grave dignity of manner that had yet a suggestion of pleasure, +the members of the varsity voted. + +When they had resumed their seats Homans turned the slips out of the +hat and unfolded them. + +"These votes will be given to the athletic directors and kept on record," +he said. "But we will never see but one side of them. That is Wayne's +rule in electing captains, so the players will not know how each voted. +But this is an occasion I am happy to see when we shall all know who +voted for who. It shall be a little secret of which we will never speak." + +He paused while he arranged the slips neatly together. + +"There are here twelve votes. Eleven have been cast for one player--one +for another player! Will you all please step forward and look?" + +In an intense stillness the varsity surrounded the table. There was +a sudden sharp gasp from one of them. + +With a frank, glad smile Homans held out his hand. + +"CAPTAIN WARD!" + + +THE END + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Young Pitcher, by Zane Grey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE YOUNG PITCHER *** + +***** This file should be named 19246.txt or 19246.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/9/2/4/19246/ + +Produced by Justin Gillbank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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