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diff --git a/old/rhout10.txt b/old/rhout10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b6e8657 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rhout10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8273 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Redheaded Outfield by Zane Grey +#1 in our series by Zane Grey + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +Scanned by Charles Keller with +OmniPage Professional OCR software +donated by Caere Corporation, 1-800-535-7226. +Contact Mike Lough <Mikel@caere.com> + + + + +ZANE GREY + +THE +REDHEADED +OUTFIELD +AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES + + + + +CONTENTS + +THE REDHEADED OUTFIELD +THE RUBE +THE RUBE'S PENNANT +THE RUBE'S HONEYMOON +THE RUBE'S WATERLOO +BREAKING INTO FAST COMPANY +THE KNOCKER +THE WINNING BALL +FALSE COLORS +THE MANAGER OF MADDEN'S HILL +OLD WELL-WELL + + + +THE REDHEADED OUTFIELD +AND OTHER BASEBALL STORIES + + + +There was Delaney's red-haired trio--Red Gilbat, +left fielder; Reddy Clammer, right fielder, and +Reddie Ray, center fielder, composing the most +remarkable outfield ever developed in minor +league baseball. It was Delaney's pride, as it was +also his trouble. + +Red Gilbat was nutty--and his batting average +was .371. Any student of baseball could weigh +these two facts against each other and understand +something of Delaney's trouble. It was not possible +to camp on Red Gilbat's trail. The man was +a jack-o'-lantern, a will-o'-the-wisp, a weird, long- +legged, long-armed, red-haired illusive phantom. +When the gong rang at the ball grounds there +were ten chances to one that Red would not be +present. He had been discovered with small boys +peeping through knotholes at the vacant left field +he was supposed to inhabit during play. + +Of course what Red did off the ball grounds +was not so important as what he did on. And +there was absolutely no telling what under the sun +he might do then except once out of every three +times at bat he could be counted on to knock the +cover off the ball. + +Reddy Clammer was a grand-stand player--the +kind all managers hated--and he was hitting .305. +He made circus catches, circus stops, circus +throws, circus steals--but particularly circus +catches. That is to say, he made easy plays +appear difficult. He was always strutting, posing, +talking, arguing, quarreling--when he was not +engaged in making a grand-stand play. Reddy +Clammer used every possible incident and artifice +to bring himself into the limelight. + +Reddie Ray had been the intercollegiate +champion in the sprints and a famous college ball +player. After a few months of professional ball +he was hitting over .400 and leading the league +both at bat and on the bases. It was a beautiful +and a thrilling sight to see him run. He was so +quick to start, so marvelously swift, so keen of +judgment, that neither Delaney nor any player +could ever tell the hit that he was not going to +get. That was why Reddie Ray was a whole game +in himself. + +Delaney's Rochester Stars and the Providence +Grays were tied for first place. Of the present +series each team had won a game. Rivalry had +always been keen, and as the teams were about +to enter the long homestretch for the pennant +there was battle in the New England air. + +The September day was perfect. The stands +were half full and the bleachers packed with a +white-sleeved mass. And the field was beautifully +level and green. The Grays were practicing and +the Stars were on their bench. + +``We're up against it,'' Delaney was saying. +``This new umpire, Fuller, hasn't got it in for us. +Oh, no, not at all! Believe me, he's a robber. +But Scott is pitchin' well. Won his last three +games. He'll bother 'em. And the three Reds +have broken loose. They're on the rampage. +They'll burn up this place today.'' + +Somebody noted the absence of Gilbat. + +Delaney gave a sudden start. ``Why, Gil was +here,'' he said slowly. ``Lord!--he's about due +for a nutty stunt.'' + +Whereupon Delaney sent boys and players +scurrying about to find Gilbat, and Delaney went +himself to ask the Providence manager to hold +back the gong for a few minutes. + +Presently somebody brought Delaney a telephone +message that Red Gilbat was playing ball +with some boys in a lot four blocks down the +street. When at length a couple of players +marched up to the bench with Red in tow Delaney +uttered an immense sigh of relief and then, after +a close scrutiny of Red's face, he whispered, +``Lock the gates!'' + +Then the gong rang. The Grays trooped in. +The Stars ran out, except Gilbat, who ambled like +a giraffe. The hum of conversation in the grand +stand quickened for a moment with the scraping +of chairs, and then grew quiet. The bleachers +sent up the rollicking cry of expectancy. The +umpire threw out a white ball with his stentorian +``Play!'' and Blake of the Grays strode to the +plate. + +Hitting safely, he started the game with a rush. +With Dorr up, the Star infield played for a bunt. +Like clockwork Dorr dumped the first ball as +Blake got his flying start for second base. Morrissey +tore in for the ball, got it on the run and +snapped it underhand to Healy, beating the +runner by an inch. The fast Blake, with a long +slide, made third base. The stands stamped. The +bleachers howled. White, next man up, batted a +high fly to left field. This was a sun field and +the hardest to play in the league. Red Gilbat was +the only man who ever played it well. He judged +the fly, waited under it, took a step hack, then +forward, and deliberately caught the ball in his +gloved hand. A throw-in to catch the runner scoring +from third base would have been futile, but +it was not like Red Gilbat to fail to try. He tossed +the ball to O'Brien. And Blake scored amid +applause. + +``What do you know about that?'' ejaculated +Delaney, wiping his moist face. ``I never +before saw our nutty Redhead pull off a play like +that.'' + +Some of the players yelled at Red, ``This is a +two-handed league, you bat!'' + +The first five players on the list for the Grays +were left-handed batters, and against a right- +handed pitcher whose most effective ball for them +was a high fast one over the outer corner they +would naturally hit toward left field. It was no +surprise to see Hanley bat a skyscraper out to left. +Red had to run to get under it. He braced himself +rather unusually for a fielder. He tried to +catch the ball in his bare right hand and muffed it, +Hanley got to second on the play while the audience +roared. When they got through there was +some roaring among the Rochester players. Scott +and Captain Healy roared at Red, and Red roared +back at them. + +``It's all off. Red never did that before,'' cried +Delaney in despair. ``He's gone clean bughouse +now.'' + +Babcock was the next man up and he likewise +hit to left. It was a low, twisting ball--half fly, +half liner--and a difficult one to field. Gilbat ran +with great bounds, and though he might have got +two hands on the ball he did not try, but this time +caught it in his right, retiring the side. + +The Stars trotted in, Scott and Healy and Kane, +all veterans, looking like thunderclouds. Red +ambled in the last and he seemed very nonchalant. + +``By Gosh, I'd 'a' ketched that one I muffed +if I'd had time to change hands,'' he said with a +grin, and he exposed a handful of peanuts. He +had refused to drop the peanuts to make the +catch with two hands. That explained the +mystery. It was funny, yet nobody laughed. There +was that run chalked up against the Stars, and +this game had to be won. + +``Red, I--I want to take the team home in the +lead,'' said Delaney, and it was plain that he +suppressed strong feeling. ``You didn't play the +game, you know.'' + +Red appeared mightily ashamed. + +``Del, I'll git that run back,'' he said. + +Then he strode to the plate, swinging his wagon- +tongue bat. For all his awkward position in the +box he looked what he was--a formidable hitter. +He seemed to tower over the pitcher--Red was +six feet one--and he scowled and shook his bat +at Wehying and called, ``Put one over--you +wienerwurst!'' Wehying was anything but red- +headed, and he wasted so many balls on Red that +it looked as if he might pass him. He would have +passed him, too, if Red had not stepped over on +the fourth ball and swung on it. White at second +base leaped high for the stinging hit, and failed +to reach it. The ball struck and bounded for the +fence. When Babcock fielded it in, Red was standing +on third base, and the bleachers groaned. + +Whereupon Chesty Reddy Clammer proceeded +to draw attention to himself, and incidentally delay +the game, by assorting the bats as if the audience +and the game might gladly wait years to see +him make a choice. + +``Git in the game!'' yelled Delaney. + +``Aw, take my bat, Duke of the Abrubsky!'' +sarcastically said Dump Kane. When the grouchy +Kane offered to lend his bat matters were critical +in the Star camp. + +Other retorts followed, which Reddy Clammer +deigned not to notice. At last he got a bat that +suited him--and then, importantly, dramatically, +with his cap jauntily riding his red locks, he +marched to the plate. + +Some wag in the bleachers yelled into the +silence, ``Oh, Maggie, your lover has come!'' + +Not improbably Clammer was thinking first of +his presence before the multitude, secondly of his +batting average and thirdly of the run to be +scored. In this instance he waited and feinted at +balls and fouled strikes at length to work his base. +When he got to first base suddenly he bolted for +second, and in the surprise of the unlooked-for +play he made it by a spread-eagle slide. It was a +circus steal. + +Delaney snorted. Then the look of profound +disgust vanished in a flash of light. His huge face +beamed. + +Reddie Ray was striding to the plate. + +There was something about Reddie Ray that +pleased all the senses. His lithe form seemed +instinct with life; any sudden movement was suggestive +of stored lightning. His position at the +plate was on the left side, and he stood perfectly +motionless, with just a hint of tense waiting +alertness. Dorr, Blake and Babcock, the outfielders +for the Grays, trotted round to the right of their +usual position. Delaney smiled derisively, as if +he knew how futile it was to tell what field Reddie +Ray might hit into. Wehying, the old fox, warily +eyed the youngster, and threw him a high curve, +close in. It grazed Reddie's shirt, but he never +moved a hair. Then Wehying, after the manner +of many veteran pitchers when trying out a new +and menacing batter, drove a straight fast ball at +Reddie's head. Reddie ducked, neither too slow +nor too quick, just right to show what an eye he +had, how hard it was to pitch to. The next was +a strike. And on the next he appeared to step +and swing in one action. There was a ringing +rap, and the ball shot toward right, curving down, +a vicious, headed hit. Mallory, at first base, +snatched at it and found only the air. Babcock +had only time to take a few sharp steps, and then +he plunged down, blocked the hit and fought the +twisting ball. Reddie turned first base, flitted on +toward second, went headlong in the dust, and +shot to the base before White got the throw-in +from Babcock. Then, as White wheeled and lined +the ball home to catch the scoring Clammer, +Reddie Ray leaped up, got his sprinter's start +and, like a rocket, was off for third. This time +he dove behind the base, sliding in a half circle, +and as Hanley caught Strickland's perfect throw +and whirled with the ball, Reddie's hand slid to +the bag. + +Reddie got to his feet amid a rather breathless +silence. Even the coachers were quiet. There +was a moment of relaxation, then Wehying +received the ball from Hanley and faced the +batter. + +This was Dump Kane. There was a sign of +some kind, almost imperceptible, between Kane +and Reddie. As Wehying half turned in his swing +to pitch, Reddie Ray bounded homeward. It was +not so much the boldness of his action as the +amazing swiftness of it that held the audience +spellbound. Like a thunderbolt Reddie came +down the line, almost beating Wehying's pitch to +the plate. But Kane's bat intercepted the ball, +laying it down, and Reddie scored without sliding. +Dorr, by sharp work, just managed to throw Kane +out. + +Three runs so quick it was hard to tell how they +had come. Not in the major league could there +have been faster work. And the ball had been +fielded perfectly and thrown perfectly. + +``There you are,'' said Delaney, hoarsely. +``Can you beat it? If you've been wonderin' how +the cripped Stars won so many games just put +what you've seen in your pipe and smoke it. Red +Gilbat gets on--Reddy Clammer gets on--and +then Reddie Ray drives them home or chases them +home.'' + +The game went on, and though it did not exactly +drag it slowed down considerably. Morrissey and +Healy were retired on infield plays. And the sides +changed. For the Grays, O'Brien made a scratch +hit, went to second on Strickland's sacrifice, stole +third and scored on Mallory's infield out. Wehying +missed three strikes. In the Stars' turn the +three end players on the batting list were easily +disposed of. In the third inning the clever Blake, +aided by a base on balls and a hit following, tied +the score, and once more struck fire and brimstone +from the impatient bleachers. Providence was a +town that had to have its team win. + +``Git at 'em, Reds!'' said Delaney gruffly. + +``Batter up!'' called Umpire Fuller, sharply. + +``Where's Red? Where's the bug? Where's +the nut? Delaney, did you lock the gates? Look +under the bench!'' These and other remarks, not +exactly elegant, attested to the mental processes +of some of the Stars. Red Gilbat did not appear +to be forthcoming. There was an anxious delay +Capt. Healy searched for the missing player. +Delaney did not say any more. + +Suddenly a door under the grand stand opened +and Red Gilbat appeared. He hurried for his bat +and then up to the plate. And he never offered +to hit one of the balls Wehying shot over. When +Fuller had called the third strike Red hurried +back to the door and disappeared. + +``Somethin' doin','' whispered Delaney. + +Lord Chesterfield Clammer paraded to the +batter's box and, after gradually surveying the +field, as if picking out the exact place he meant to +drive the ball, he stepped to the plate. Then a +roar from the bleachers surprised him. + +``Well, I'll be dog-goned!'' exclaimed Delaney. +``Red stole that sure as shootin'.'' + +Red Gilbat was pushing a brand-new baby carriage +toward the batter's box. There was a tittering +in the grand stand; another roar from the +bleachers. Clammer's face turned as red as his +hair. Gilbat shoved the baby carriage upon the +plate, spread wide his long arms, made a short +presentation speech and an elaborate bow, then +backed away. + +All eyes were centered on Clammer. If he had +taken it right the incident might have passed without +undue hilarity. But Clammer became absolutely +wild with rage. It was well known that +he was unmarried. Equally well was it seen that +Gilbat had executed one of his famous tricks. +Ball players were inclined to be dignified about +the presentation of gifts upon the field, and +Clammer, the dude, the swell, the lady's man, the +favorite of the baseball gods--in his own estimation-- +so far lost control of himself that he threw +his bat at his retreating tormentor. Red jumped +high and the bat skipped along the ground toward +the bench. The players sidestepped and leaped +and, of course, the bat cracked one of Delaney's +big shins. His eyes popped with pain, but he +could not stop laughing. One by one the players +lay down and rolled over and yelled. The +superior Clammer was not overliked by his co- +players. + +From the grand stand floated the laughter of +ladies and gentlemen. And from the bleachers-- +that throne of the biting, ironic, scornful fans-- +pealed up a howl of delight. It lasted for a full +minute. Then, as quiet ensued, some boy blew a +blast of one of those infernal little instruments of +pipe and rubber balloon, and over the field wailed +out a shrill, high-keyed cry, an excellent imitation +of a baby. Whereupon the whole audience roared, +and in discomfiture Reddy Clammer went in +search of his bat. + +To make his chagrin all the worse he ingloriously +struck out. And then he strode away under +the lea of the grand-stand wall toward right field. + +Reddie Ray went to bat and, with the infield +playing deep and the outfield swung still farther +round to the right, he bunted a little teasing ball +down the third-base line. Like a flash of light +he had crossed first base before Hanley got his +hands on the ball. Then Kane hit into second +base, forcing Reddie out. + +Again the game assumed less spectacular and +more ordinary play. Both Scott and Wehying +held the batters safely and allowed no runs. But +in the fifth inning, with the Stars at bat and two +out, Red Gilbat again electrified the field. He +sprang up from somewhere and walked to the +plate, his long shape enfolded in a full-length linen +duster. The color and style of this garment +might not have been especially striking, but upon +Red it had a weird and wonderful effect. +Evidently Red intended to bat while arrayed in his +long coat, for he stepped into the box and faced +the pitcher. Capt. Healy yelled for him to take +the duster off. Likewise did the Grays yell. + +The bleachers shrieked their disapproval. To +say the least, Red Gilbat's crazy assurance was +dampening to the ardor of the most blindly confident +fans. At length Umpire Fuller waved his +hand, enjoining silence and calling time. + +``Take it off or I'll fine you.'' + +From his lofty height Gilbat gazed down upon +the little umpire, and it was plain what he thought. + +``What do I care for money!'' replied Red. + +``That costs you twenty-five,'' said Fuller. + +``Cigarette change!'' yelled Red. + +``Costs you fifty.'' + +``Bah! Go to an eye doctor,'' roared Red. + +``Seventy-five,'' added Fuller, imperturbably. + +``Make it a hundred!'' + +``It's two hundred.'' + +``ROB-B-BER!'' bawled Red. + +Fuller showed willingness to overlook Red's +back talk as well as costume, and he called, +``Play!'' + +There was a mounting sensation of prophetic +certainty. Old fox Wehying appeared nervous. +He wasted two balls on Red; then he put one over +the plate, and then he wasted another. Three +balls and one strike! That was a bad place for a +pitcher, and with Red Gilbat up it was worse. +Wehying swung longer and harder to get all his +left behind the throw and let drive. Red lunged +and cracked the ball. It went up and up and kept +going up and farther out, and as the murmuring +audience was slowly transfixed into late realization +the ball soared to its height and dropped +beyond the left-field fence. A home run! + +Red Gilbat gathered up the tails of his duster, +after the manner of a neat woman crossing a +muddy street, and ambled down to first base and +on to second, making prodigious jumps upon the +bags, and round third, to come down the home- +stretch wagging his red head. Then he stood on +the plate, and, as if to exact revenge from the +audience for the fun they made of him, he threw +back his shoulders and bellowed: ``HAW! HAW! +HAW!'' + +Not a handclap greeted him, but some mindless, +exceedingly adventurous fan yelled: ``Redhead! +Redhead! Redhead!'' + +That was the one thing calculated to rouse Red +Gilbat. He seemed to flare, to bristle, and he +paced for the bleachers. + +Delaney looked as if he might have a stroke. +``Grab him! Soak him with a bat! Somebody +grab him!'' + +But none of the Stars was risking so much, and +Gilbat, to the howling derision of the gleeful fans, +reached the bleachers. He stretched his long +arms up to the fence and prepared to vault over. +``Where's the guy who called me redhead?'' he +yelled. + +That was heaping fuel on the fire. From all +over the bleachers, from everywhere, came the +obnoxious word. Red heaved himself over the +fence and piled into the fans. Then followed the +roar of many voices, the tramping of many feet, +the pressing forward of line after line of shirt- +sleeved men and boys. That bleacher stand +suddenly assumed the maelstrom appearance of a +surging mob round an agitated center. In a +moment all the players rushed down the field, and +confusion reigned. + +``Oh! Oh! Oh!'' moaned Delaney. + +However, the game had to go on. Delaney, no +doubt, felt all was over. Nevertheless there were +games occasionally that seemed an unending +series of unprecedented events. This one had begun +admirably to break a record. And the Providence +fans, like all other fans, had cultivated an +appetite as the game proceeded. They were wild +to put the other redheads out of the field or at +least out for the inning, wild to tie the score, wild +to win and wilder than all for more excitement. +Clammer hit safely. But when Reddie Ray lined +to the second baseman, Clammer, having taken a +lead, was doubled up in the play. + +Of course, the sixth inning opened with the +Stars playing only eight men. There was another +delay. Probably everybody except Delaney and +perhaps Healy had forgotten the Stars were short +a man. Fuller called time. The impatient bleachers +barked for action. + +Capt. White came over to Delaney and courteously +offered to lend a player for the remaining +innings. Then a pompous individual came out of +the door leading from the press boxes--he was +a director Delaney disliked. + +``Guess you'd better let Fuller call the game,'' +he said brusquely. + +``If you want to--as the score stands now in +our favor,'' replied Delaney. + +``Not on your life! It'll be ours or else we'll +play it out and beat you to death.'' + +He departed in high dudgeon. + +``Tell Reddie to swing over a little toward +left,'' was Delaney's order to Healy. Fire +gleamed in the manager's eye. + +Fuller called play then, with Reddy Clammer +and Reddie Ray composing the Star outfield. And +the Grays evidently prepared to do great execution +through the wide lanes thus opened up. At +that stage it would not have been like matured +ball players to try to crop hits down into the +infield. + +White sent a long fly back of Clammer. Reddy +had no time to loaf on this hit. It was all he could +do to reach it and he made a splendid catch, for +which the crowd roundly applauded him. That +applause was wine to Reddy Clammer. He began +to prance on his toes and sing out to Scott: ``Make +'em hit to me, old man! Make 'em hit to me!'' +Whether Scott desired that or not was scarcely +possible to say; at any rate, Hanley pounded a +hit through the infield. And Clammer, prancing +high in the air like a check-reined horse, ran to +intercept the ball. He could have received it in +his hands, but that would never have served +Reddy Clammer. He timed the hit to a nicety, +went down with his old grand-stand play and +blocked the ball with his anatomy. Delaney +swore. And the bleachers, now warm toward the +gallant outfielder, lustily cheered him. Babcock +hit down the right-field foul line, giving Clammer +a long run. Hanley was scoring and Babcock was +sprinting for third base when Reddy got the ball. +He had a fine arm and he made a hard and +accurate throw, catching his man in a close play. + +Perhaps even Delaney could not have found any +fault with that play. But the aftermath spoiled +the thing. Clammer now rode the air; he soared; +he was in the clouds; it was his inning and he had +utterly forgotten his team mates, except inasmuch +as they were performing mere little automatic +movements to direct the great machinery in his +direction for his sole achievement and glory. + +There is fate in baseball as well as in other +walks of life. O'Brien was a strapping fellow and +he lifted another ball into Clammer's wide +territory. The hit was of the high and far-away +variety. Clammer started to run with it, not like +a grim outfielder, but like one thinking of himself, +his style, his opportunity, his inevitable +success. Certain it was that in thinking of himself +the outfielder forgot his surroundings. He ran +across the foul line, head up, hair flying, unheeding +the warning cry from Healy. And, reaching +up to make his crowning circus play, he smashed +face forward into the bleachers fence. Then, +limp as a rag, he dropped. The audience sent +forth a long groan of sympathy. + +``That wasn't one of his stage falls,'' said +Delaney. ``I'll bet he's dead. . . . Poor Reddy! +And I want him to bust his face!'' + +Clammer was carried off the field into the dressing +room and a physician was summoned out of +the audience. + +``Cap., what'd it--do to him?'' asked Delaney. + +``Aw, spoiled his pretty mug, that's all,'' +replied Healy, scornfully. ``Mebee he'll listen to +me now.'' + +Delaney's change was characteristic of the man. +``Well, if it didn't kill him I'm blamed glad he got +it. . . . Cap, we can trim 'em yet. Reddie Ray'll +play the whole outfield. Give Reddie a chance to +run! Tell the boy to cut loose. And all of you git +in the game. Win or lose, I won't forget it. I've +a hunch. Once in a while I can tell what's comin' +off. Some queer game this! And we're goin' to +win. Gilbat lost the game; Clammer throwed it +away again, and now Reddie Ray's due to win +it. . . . I'm all in, but I wouldn't miss the finish +to save my life.'' + +Delaney's deep presaging sense of baseball +events was never put to a greater test. And the +seven Stars, with the score tied, exhibited the +temper and timber of a championship team in the +last ditch. It was so splendid that almost +instantly it caught the antagonistic bleachers. + +Wherever the tired Scott found renewed +strength and speed was a mystery. But he struck +out the hard-hitting Providence catcher and that +made the third out. The Stars could not score in +their half of the inning. Likewise the seventh +inning passed without a run for either side; only +the infield work of the Stars was something +superb. When the eighth inning ended, without a +tally for either team, the excitement grew tense. +There was Reddy Ray playing outfield alone, and +the Grays with all their desperate endeavors had +not lifted the ball out of the infield. + +But in the ninth, Blake, the first man up, lined +low toward right center. The hit was safe and +looked good for three bases. No one looking, however, +had calculated on Reddie's Ray's fleetness. +He covered ground and dove for the bounding +ball and knocked it down. Blake did not get +beyond first base. The crowd cheered the play +equally with the prospect of a run. Dorr bunted +and beat the throw. White hit one of the high +fast balls Scott was serving and sent it close to +the left-field foul line. The running Reddie Ray +made on that play held White at second base. But +two runs had scored with no one out. + +Hanley, the fourth left-handed hitter, came up +and Scott pitched to him as he had to the others +--high fast balls over the inside corner of the +plate. Reddy Ray's position was some fifty yards +behind deep short, and a little toward center field. +He stood sideways, facing two-thirds of that +vacant outfield. In spite of Scott's skill, Hanley +swung the ball far round into right field, but he +hit it high, and almost before he actually hit it the +great sprinter was speeding across the green. + +The suspence grew almost unbearable as the +ball soared in its parabolic flight and the red- +haired runner streaked dark across the green. +The ball seemed never to be coming down. And +when it began to descend and reached a point +perhaps fifty feet above the ground there appeared +more distance between where it would alight and +where Reddie was than anything human could +cover. It dropped and dropped, and then dropped +into Reddie Ray's outstretched hands. He had +made the catch look easy. But the fact that White +scored from second base on the play showed what +the catch really was. + +There was no movement or restlessness of the +audience such as usually indicated the beginning +of the exodus. Scott struck Babcock out. The +game still had fire. The Grays never let up a +moment on their coaching. And the hoarse voices +of the Stars were grimmer than ever. Reddie +Ray was the only one of the seven who kept silent. +And he crouched like a tiger. + +The teams changed sides with the Grays three +runs in the lead. Morrissey, for the Stars, opened +with a clean drive to right. Then Healy slashed a +ground ball to Hanley and nearly knocked him +down. When old Burns, by a hard rap to short, +advanced the runners a base and made a desperate, +though unsuccessful, effort to reach first the +Providence crowd awoke to a strange and inspiring +appreciation. They began that most rare +feature in baseball audiences--a strong and +trenchant call for the visiting team to win. + +The play had gone fast and furious. Wehying, +sweaty and disheveled, worked violently. All the +Grays were on uneasy tiptoes. And the Stars +were seven Indians on the warpath. Halloran +fouled down the right-field line; then he fouled +over the left-field fence. Wehying tried to make +him too anxious, but it was in vain. Halloran was +implacable. With two strikes and three balls he +hit straight down to white, and was out. The +ball had been so sharp that neither runner on base +had a chance to advance. + +Two men out, two on base, Stars wanting three +runs to tie, Scott, a weak batter, at the plate! +The situation was disheartening. Yet there sat +Delaney, shot through and through with some +vital compelling force. He saw only victory. And +when the very first ball pitched to Scott hit him +on the leg, giving him his base, Delaney got to his +feet, unsteady and hoarse. + +Bases full, Reddie Ray up, three runs to tie! + +Delaney looked at Reddie. And Reddie looked +at Delaney. The manager's face was pale, intent, +with a little smile. The player had eyes of fire, +a lean, bulging jaw and the hands he reached for +his bat clutched like talons. + +``Reddie, I knew it was waitin' for you,'' said +Delaney, his voice ringing. ``Break up the +game!'' + +After all this was only a baseball game, and +perhaps from the fans' viewpoint a poor game at +that. But the moment when that lithe, redhaired +athlete toed the plate was a beautiful one. The +long crash from the bleachers, the steady cheer +from the grand stand, proved that it was not so +much the game that mattered. + +Wehying had shot his bolt; he was tired. Yet +he made ready for a final effort. It seemed that +passing Reddie Ray on balls would have been a +wise play at that juncture. But no pitcher, probably, +would have done it with the bases crowded +and chances, of course, against the batter. + +Clean and swift, Reddie leaped at the first +pitched ball. Ping! For a second no one saw the +hit. Then it gleamed, a terrific drive, low along +the ground, like a bounding bullet, straight at +Babcock in right field. It struck his hands and +glanced viciously away to roll toward the fence. + +Thunder broke loose from the stands. Reddie +Ray was turning first base. Beyond first base he +got into his wonderful stride. Some runners run +with a consistent speed, the best they can make +for a given distance. But this trained sprinter +gathered speed as he ran. He was no short-stepping +runner. His strides were long. They gave +an impression of strength combined with fleetness. +He had the speed of a race horse, but the +trimness, the raciness, the delicate legs were not +characteristic of him. Like the wind he turned +second, so powerful that his turn was short. All +at once there came a difference in his running. It +was no longer beautiful. The grace was gone. It +was now fierce, violent. His momentum was running +him off his legs. He whirled around third +base and came hurtling down the homestretch. +His face was convulsed, his eyes were wild. His +arms and legs worked in a marvelous muscular +velocity. He seemed a demon--a flying streak. +He overtook and ran down the laboring Scott, who +had almost reached the plate. + +The park seemed full of shrill, piercing strife. +It swelled, reached a highest pitch, sustained that +for a long moment, and then declined. + +``My Gawd!'' exclaimed Delaney, as he fell +back. ``Wasn't that a finish? Didn't I tell you +to watch them redheads!'' + + + +THE RUBE + + +It was the most critical time I had yet +experienced in my career as a baseball manager. +And there was more than the usual reason why +I must pull the team out. A chance for a +business deal depended upon the good-will of the +stockholders of the Worcester club. On the +outskirts of the town was a little cottage that I +wanted to buy, and this depended upon the business +deal. My whole future happiness depended +upon the little girl I hoped to install in that +cottage. + +Coming to the Worcester Eastern League team, +I had found a strong aggregation and an +enthusiastic following. I really had a team with +pennant possibilities. Providence was a strong +rival, but I beat them three straight in the opening +series, set a fast pace, and likewise set Worcester +baseball mad. The Eastern League clubs +were pretty evenly matched; still I continued to +hold the lead until misfortune overtook me. + +Gregg smashed an umpire and had to be laid +off. Mullaney got spiked while sliding and was +out of the game. Ashwell sprained his ankle and +Hirsch broke a finger. Radbourne, my great +pitcher, hurt his arm on a cold day and he could +not get up his old speed. Stringer, who had +batted three hundred and seventy-one and led the +league the year before, struck a bad spell and +could not hit a barn door handed up to him. + +Then came the slump. The team suddenly let +down; went to pieces; played ball that would have +disgraced an amateur nine. It was a trying time. +Here was a great team, strong everywhere. A +little hard luck had dug up a slump--and now! +Day by day the team dropped in the race. When +we reached the second division the newspapers +flayed us. Worcester would never stand for a +second division team. Baseball admirers, reporters, +fans--especially the fans--are fickle. The +admirers quit, the reporters grilled us, and the +fans, though they stuck to the games with that +barnacle-like tenacity peculiar to them, made life +miserable for all of us. I saw the pennant slowly +fading, and the successful season, and the business +deal, and the cottage, and Milly---- + +But when I thought of her I just could not see +failure. Something must be done, but what? I +was at the end of my wits. When Jersey City +beat us that Saturday, eleven to two, shoving us +down to fifth place with only a few percentage +points above the Fall River team, I grew +desperate, and locking my players in the dressing +room I went after them. They had lain down on +me and needed a jar. I told them so straight and +flat, and being bitter, I did not pick and choose +my words. + +``And fellows,'' I concluded, ``you've got to +brace. A little more of this and we can't pull out. +I tell you you're a championship team. We had +that pennant cinched. A few cuts and sprains +and hard luck--and you all quit! You lay down! +I've been patient. I've plugged for you. Never +a man have I fined or thrown down. But now I'm +at the end of my string. I'm out to fine you +now, and I'll release the first man who shows +the least yellow. I play no more substitutes. +Crippled or not, you guys have got to get in the +game.'' + +I waited to catch my breath and expected some +such outburst as managers usually get from criticized +players. But not a word! Then I addressed +some of them personally. + +``Gregg, your lay-off ends today. You play +Monday. Mullaney, you've drawn your salary +for two weeks with that spiked foot. If you can't +run on it--well, all right, but I put it up to your +good faith. I've played the game and I know +it's hard to run on a sore foot. But you can do it. +Ashwell, your ankle is lame, I know--now, can +you run?'' + +``Sure I can. I'm not a quitter. I'm ready to +go in,'' replied Ashwell. + +``Raddy, how about you?'' I said, turning to +my star twirler. + +``Connelly, I've seen as fast a team in as bad a +rut and yet pull out,'' returned Radbourne. +``We're about due for the brace. When it comes +--look out! As for me, well, my arm isn't right, +but it's acting these warm days in a way that tells +me it will be soon. It's been worked too hard. +Can't you get another pitcher? I'm not knocking +Herne or Cairns. They're good for their turn, +but we need a new man to help out. And he must +be a crackerjack if we're to get back to the lead.'' + +``Where on earth can I find such a pitcher?'' I +shouted, almost distracted. + +``Well, that's up to you,'' replied Radbourne. + +Up to me it certainly was, and I cudgeled my +brains for inspiration. After I had given up in +hopelessness it came in the shape of a notice I +read in one of the papers. It was a brief mention +of an amateur Worcester ball team being shut +out in a game with a Rickettsville nine. Rickettsville +played Sunday ball, which gave me an opportunity +to look them over. + +It took some train riding and then a journey +by coach to get to Rickettsville. I mingled with +the crowd of talking rustics. There was only one +little ``bleachers'' and this was loaded to the +danger point with the feminine adherents of the +teams. Most of the crowd centered alongside and +back of the catcher's box. I edged in and got a +position just behind the stone that served as home +plate. + +Hunting up a player in this way was no new +thing to me. I was too wise to make myself +known before I had sized up the merits of my +man. So, before the players came upon the field +I amused myself watching the rustic fans and +listening to them. Then a roar announced the +appearance of the Rickettsville team and their +opponents, who wore the name of Spatsburg on +their Canton flannel shirts. The uniforms of these +country amateurs would have put a Philadelphia +Mummer's parade to the blush, at least for bright +colors. But after one amused glance I got down +to the stern business of the day, and that was to +discover a pitcher, and failing that, baseball talent +of any kind. + +Never shall I forget my first glimpse of the +Rickettsville twirler. He was far over six feet +tall and as lean as a fence rail. He had a great +shock of light hair, a sunburned, sharp-featured +face, wide, sloping shoulders, and arms enormously +long. He was about as graceful and had +about as much of a baseball walk as a crippled cow. + +``He's a rube!'' I ejaculated, in disgust and +disappointment. + +But when I had seen him throw one ball to his +catcher I grew as keen as a fox on a scent. What +speed he had! I got round closer to him and +watched him with sharp, eager eyes. He was a +giant. To be sure, he was lean, rawboned as a +horse, but powerful. What won me at once was +his natural, easy swing. He got the ball away +with scarcely any effort. I wondered what he +could do when he brought the motion of his body +into play. + +``Bub, what might be the pitcher's name?'' I +asked of a boy. + +``Huh, mister, his name might be Dennis, but +it ain't. Huh!'' replied this country youngster. +Evidently my question had thrown some implication +upon this particular player. + +``I reckon you be a stranger in these parts,'' +said a pleasant old fellow. ``His name's Hurtle +--Whitaker Hurtle. Whit fer short. He hain't +lost a gol-darned game this summer. No sir-ee! +Never pitched any before, nuther.'' + +Hurtle! What a remarkably fitting name! + +Rickettsville chose the field and the game began. +Hurtle swung with his easy motion. The ball shot +across like a white bullet. It was a strike, and so +was the next, and the one succeeding. He could +not throw anything but strikes, and it seemed the +Spatsburg players could not make even a foul. + +Outside of Hurtle's work the game meant little +to me. And I was so fascinated by what I saw in +him that I could hardly contain myself. After +the first few innings I no longer tried to. I yelled +with the Rickettsville rooters. The man was a +wonder. A blind baseball manager could have +seen that. He had a straight ball, shoulder high, +level as a stretched string, and fast. He had a +jump ball, which he evidently worked by putting +on a little more steam, and it was the speediest +thing I ever saw in the way of a shoot. He had a +wide-sweeping outcurve, wide as the blade of a +mowing scythe. And he had a drop--an unhittable +drop. He did not use it often, for it made +his catcher dig too hard into the dirt. But whenever +he did I glowed all over. Once or twice he +used an underhand motion and sent in a ball that +fairly swooped up. It could not have been hit +with a board. And best of all, dearest to the +manager's heart, he had control. Every ball he threw +went over the plate. He could not miss it. To +him that plate was as big as a house. + +What a find! Already I had visions of the long- +looked-for brace of my team, and of the pennant, +and the little cottage, and the happy light of a +pair of blue eyes. What he meant to me, that +country pitcher Hurtle! He shut out the Spatsburg +team without a run or a hit or even a scratch. +Then I went after him. I collared him and his +manager, and there, surrounded by the gaping +players, I bought him and signed him before any +of them knew exactly what I was about. I did +not haggle. I asked the manager what he wanted +and produced the cash; I asked Hurtle what he +wanted, doubled his ridiculously modest demand, +paid him in advance, and got his name to the +contract. Then I breathed a long, deep breath; the +first one for weeks. Something told me that with +Hurtle's signature in my pocket I had the Eastern +League pennant. Then I invited all concerned +down to the Rickettsville hotel. + +We made connections at the railroad junction +and reached Worcester at midnight in time for a +good sleep. I took the silent and backward +pitcher to my hotel. In the morning we had +breakfast together. I showed him about Worcester +and then carried him off to the ball grounds. + +I had ordered morning practice, and as morning +practice is not conducive to the cheerfulness +of ball players, I wanted to reach the dressing +room a little late. When we arrived, all the players +had dressed and were out on the field. I had +some difficulty in fitting Hurtle with a uniform, +and when I did get him dressed he resembled a +two-legged giraffe decked out in white shirt, gray +trousers and maroon stockings. + +Spears, my veteran first baseman and captain +of the team, was the first to see us. + +``Sufferin' umpires!'' yelled Spears. ``Here, +you Micks! Look at this Con's got with him!'' + +What a yell burst from that sore and +disgruntled bunch of ball tossers! My players were +a grouchy set in practice anyway, and today they +were in their meanest mood. + +``Hey, beanpole!'' + +``Get on to the stilts!'' + +``Con, where did you find that?'' + +I cut short their chaffing with a sharp order for +batting practice. + +``Regular line-up, now no monkey biz,'' I went +on. ``Take two cracks and a bunt. Here, Hurtle,'' +I said, drawing him toward the pitcher's +box, ``don't pay any attention to their talk. That's +only the fun of ball players. Go in now and practice +a little. Lam a few over.'' + +Hurtle's big freckled hands closed nervously +over the ball. I thought it best not to say more +to him, for he had a rather wild look. I remembered +my own stage fright upon my first appearance +in fast company. Besides I knew what my +amiable players would say to him. I had a secret +hope and belief that presently they would yell +upon the other side of the fence. + +McCall, my speedy little left fielder, led +off at bat. He was full of ginger, chipper as +a squirrel, sarcastic as only a tried ball player +can be. + +``Put 'em over, Slats, put 'em over,'' he called, +viciously swinging his ash. + +Hurtle stood stiff and awkward in the box and +seemed to be rolling something in his mouth. +Then he moved his arm. We all saw the ball +dart down straight--that is, all of us except +McCall, because if he had seen it he might have +jumped out of the way. Crack! The ball hit him +on the shin. + +McCall shrieked. We all groaned. That crack +hurt all of us. Any baseball player knows how it +hurts to be hit on the shinbone. McCall waved +his bat madly. + +``Rube! Rube! Rube!'' he yelled. + +Then and there Hurtle got the name that was +to cling to him all his baseball days. + +McCall went back to the plate, red in the face, +mad as a hornet, and he sidestepped every time +Rube pitched a ball. He never even ticked one +and retired in disgust, limping and swearing. +Ashwell was next. He did not show much alacrity. +On Rube's first pitch down went Ashwell flat +in the dust. The ball whipped the hair of his +head. Rube was wild and I began to get worried. +Ashwell hit a couple of measly punks, but when +he assayed a bunt the gang yelled derisively at +him. + +``What's he got?'' The old familiar cry of +batters when facing a new pitcher! + +Stringer went up, bold and formidable. That +was what made him the great hitter he was. He +loved to bat; he would have faced anybody; he +would have faced even a cannon. New curves +were a fascination to him. And speed for him, +in his own words, was ``apple pie.'' In this +instance, surprise was in store for Stringer. Rube +shot up the straight one, then the wide curve, then +the drop. Stringer missed them all, struck out, +fell down ignominiously. It was the first time +he had fanned that season and he looked dazed. +We had to haul him away. + +I called off the practice, somewhat worried +about Rube's showing, and undecided whether or +not to try him in the game that day. So I went +to Radbourne, who had quietly watched Rube +while on the field. Raddy was an old pitcher and +had seen the rise of a hundred stars. I told him +about the game at Rickettsville and what I thought +of Rube, and frankly asked his opinion. + +``Con, you've made the find of your life,'' said +Raddy, quietly and deliberately. + +This from Radbourne was not only comforting; +it was relief, hope, assurance. I avoided Spears, +for it would hardly be possible for him to regard +the Rube favorably, and I kept under cover until +time to show up at the grounds. + +Buffalo was on the ticket for that afternoon, +and the Bisons were leading the race and playing +in topnotch form. I went into the dressing room +while the players were changing suits, because +there was a little unpleasantness that I wanted to +spring on them before we got on the field. + +``Boys,'' I said, curtly, ``Hurtle works today. +Cut loose, now, and back him up.'' + +I had to grab a bat and pound on the wall to +stop the uproar. + +``Did you mutts hear what I said? Well, it goes. +Not a word, now. I'm handling this team. We're +in bad, I know, but it's my judgment to pitch Hurtle, +rube or no rube, and it's up to you to back +us. That's the baseball of it.'' + +Grumbling and muttering, they passed out of +the dressing room. I knew ball players. If Hurtle +should happen to show good form they would +turn in a flash. Rube tagged reluctantly in their +rear. He looked like a man in a trance. I wanted +to speak encouragingly to him, but Raddy told me +to keep quiet. + +It was inspiring to see my team practice that +afternoon. There had come a subtle change. I +foresaw one of those baseball climaxes that can +be felt and seen, but not explained. Whether it +was a hint of the hoped-for brace, or only another +flash of form before the final let-down, I had no +means to tell. But I was on edge. + +Carter, the umpire, called out the batteries, and +I sent my team into the field. When that long, +lanky, awkward rustic started for the pitcher's +box, I thought the bleachers would make him drop +in his tracks. The fans were sore on any one +those days, and a new pitcher was bound to hear +from them. + +``Where! Oh, where! Oh, where!'' + +``Connelly's found another dead one!'' + +``Scarecrow!'' + +``Look at his pants!'' + +``Pad his legs!'' + +Then the inning began, and things happened. +Rube had marvelous speed, but he could not find +the plate. He threw the ball the second he got +it; he hit men, walked men, and fell all over +himself trying to field bunts. The crowd stormed and +railed and hissed. The Bisons pranced round the +bases and yelled like Indians. Finally they retired +with eight runs. + +Eight runs! Enough to win two games! I +could not have told how it happened. I was sick +and all but crushed. Still I had a blind, dogged +faith in the big rustic. I believed he had not got +started right. It was a trying situation. I called +Spears and Raddy to my side and talked fast. + +``It's all off now. Let the dinged rube take his +medicine,'' growled Spears. + +``Don't take him out,'' said Raddy. ``He's not +shown at all what's in him. The blamed hayseed +is up in the air. He's crazy. He doesn't +know what he's doing. I tell you, Con, he may be +scared to death, but he's dead in earnest.'' + +Suddenly I recalled the advice of the pleasant +old fellow at Rickettsville. + +``Spears, you're the captain,'' I said, sharply. +``Go after the rube. Wake him up. Tell him he +can't pitch. Call him `Pogie!' That's a name +that stirs him up.'' + +``Well, I'll be dinged! He looks it,'' replied +Spears. ``Here, Rube, get off the bench. Come +here.'' + +Rube lurched toward us. He seemed to be +walking in his sleep. His breast was laboring and +he was dripping with sweat. + +``Who ever told you that you could pitch?'' +asked Spears genially. He was master at baseball +ridicule. I had never yet seen the youngster who +could stand his badinage. He said a few things, +then wound up with: ``Come now, you cross +between a hayrack and a wagon tongue, get sore and +do something. Pitch if you can. Show us! Do +you hear, you tow-headed Pogie!'' + +Rube jumped as if he had been struck. His face +flamed red and his little eyes turned black. He +shoved his big fist under Capt. Spears' nose. + +``Mister, I'll lick you fer thet--after the game! +And I'll show you dog-goned well how I can +pitch.'' + +``Good!'' exclaimed Raddy; and I echoed his +word. Then I went to the bench and turned my +attention to the game. Some one told me that +McCall had made a couple of fouls, and after waiting +for two strikes and three balls had struck +out. Ashwell had beat out a bunt in his old swift +style, and Stringer was walking up to the plate +on the moment. It was interesting, even in a losing +game, to see Stringer go to bat. We all +watched him, as we had been watching him for +weeks, expecting him to break his slump with one +of the drives that had made him famous. Stringer +stood to the left side of the plate, and I could +see the bulge of his closely locked jaw. He swung +on the first pitched ball. With the solid rap we +all rose to watch that hit. The ball lined first, +then soared and did not begin to drop till it was +far beyond the right-field fence. For an instant +we were all still, so were the bleachers. Stringer +had broken his slump with the longest drive ever +made on the grounds. The crowd cheered as he +trotted around the bases behind Ashwell. Two +runs. + +``Con, how'd you like that drive?'' he asked +me, with a bright gleam in his eyes. + +``O-h-!--a beaut!'' I replied, incoherently. The +players on the bench were all as glad as I was. +Henley flew out to left. Mullaney smashed a two- +bagger to right. Then Gregg hit safely, but Mullaney, +in trying to score on the play, was out at +the plate. + +``Four hits! I tell you fellows, something's +coming off,'' said Raddy. ``Now, if only +Rube----'' + +What a difference there was in that long rustic! +He stalked into the box, unmindful of the hooting +crowd and grimly faced Schultz, the first batter +up for the Bisons. This time Rube was deliberate. +And where he had not swung before he now +got his body and arm into full motion. The ball +came in like a glint of light. Schultz looked +surprised. The umpire called ``Strike!'' + +``Wow!'' yelled the Buffalo coacher. Rube sped +up the sidewheeler and Schultz reached wide to +meet it and failed. The third was the lightning +drop, straight over the plate. The batter poked +weakly at it. Then Carl struck out and Manning +following, did likewise. Three of the best hitters +in the Eastern retired on nine strikes! That was +no fluke. I knew what it meant, and I sat there +hugging myself with the hum of something joyous +in my ears. + +Gregg had a glow on his sweaty face. ``Oh, but +say, boys, take a tip from me! The Rube's a world +beater! Raddy knew it; he sized up that swing, +and now I know it. Get wise, you its!'' + +When old Spears pasted a single through shortstop, +the Buffalo manager took Clary out of the +box and put in Vane, their best pitcher. Bogart +advanced the runner to second, but was thrown +out on the play. Then Rube came up. He swung +a huge bat and loomed over the Bison's twirler. +Rube had the look of a hitter. He seemed to be +holding himself back from walking right into the +ball. And he hit one high and far away. The +fast Carl could not get under it, though he made +a valiant effort. Spears scored and Rube's long +strides carried him to third. The cold crowd in +the stands came to life; even the sore bleachers +opened up. McCall dumped a slow teaser down +the line, a hit that would easily have scored Rube, +but he ran a little way, then stopped, tried to get +back, and was easily touched out. Ashwell's hard +chance gave the Bison's shortstop an error, and +Stringer came up with two men on bases. Stringer +hit a foul over the right-field fence and the crowd +howled. Then he hit a hard long drive straight +into the centerfielder's hands. + +``Con, I don't know what to think, but ding me +if we ain't hittin' the ball,'' said Spears. Then +to his players: ``A little more of that and we're +back in our old shape. All in a minute--at 'em +now! Rube, you dinged old Pogie, pitch!'' + +Rube toed the rubber, wrapped his long brown +fingers round the ball, stepped out as he swung +and--zing! That inning he unloosed a few more +kinks in his arm and he tried some new balls upon +the Bisons. But whatever he used and wherever +he put them the result was the same--they cut the +plate and the Bisons were powerless. + +That inning marked the change in my team. +They had come hack. The hoodoo had vanished. +The championship Worcester team was itself +again. + +The Bisons were fighting, too, but Rube had +them helpless. When they did hit a ball one of +my infielders snapped it up. No chances went to +the outfield. I sat there listening to my men, and +reveled in a moment that I had long prayed for. + +``Now you're pitching some, Rube. Another +strike! Get him a board!'' called Ashwell. + +``Ding 'em, Rube, ding 'em!'' came from Capt. +Spears. + +``Speed? Oh-no!'' yelled Bogart at third +base. + +``It's all off, Rube! It's all off--all off!'' + +So, with the wonderful pitching of an angry +rube, the Worcester team came into its own +again. I sat through it all without another word; +without giving a signal. In a way I realized the +awakening of the bleachers, and heard the pound +of feet and the crash, but it was the spirit of my +team that thrilled me. Next to that the work of +my new find absorbed me. I gloated over his easy, +deceiving swing. I rose out of my seat when he +threw that straight fast ball, swift as a bullet, +true as a plumb line. And when those hard-hitting, +sure bunting Bisons chopped in vain at the +wonderful drop, I choked back a wild yell. For +Rube meant the world to me that day. + +In the eighth the score was 8 to 6. The Bisons +had one scratch hit to their credit, but not a +runner had got beyond first base. Again Rube +held them safely, one man striking out, another +fouling out, and the third going out on a little fly. + +Crash! Crash! Crash! Crash! The bleachers +were making up for many games in which +they could not express their riotous feelings. + +``It's a cinch we'll win!'' yelled a fan with a +voice. Rube was the first man up in our half of +the ninth and his big bat lammed the first ball +safe over second base. The crowd, hungry for +victory, got to their feet and stayed upon their +feet, calling, cheering for runs. It was the moment +for me to get in the game, and I leaped up, +strung like a wire, and white hot with inspiration. +I sent Spears to the coaching box with +orders to make Rube run on the first ball. I +gripped McCall with hands that made him wince. + +Then I dropped back on the bench spent and +panting. It was only a game, yet it meant so +much! Little McCall was dark as a thunder cloud, +and his fiery eyes snapped. He was the fastest +man in the league, and could have bunted an +arrow from a bow. The foxy Bison third baseman +edged in. Mac feinted to bunt toward him +then turned his bat inward and dumped a teasing +curving ball down the first base line. Rube ran +as if in seven-league boots. Mac's short legs +twinkled; he went like the wind; he leaped into +first base with his long slide, and beat the +throw. + +The stands and bleachers seemed to be tumbling +down. For a moment the air was full of deafening +sound. Then came the pause, the dying away +of clatter and roar, the close waiting, suspended +quiet. Spears' clear voice, as he coached Rube, in +its keen note seemed inevitable of another run. + +Ashwell took his stand. He was another left- +hand hitter, and against a right-hand pitcher, in +such circumstances as these, the most dangerous +of men. Vane knew it. Ellis, the Bison captain +knew it, as showed plainly in his signal to catch +Rube at second. But Spears' warning held or +frightened Rube on the bag. + +Vane wasted a ball, then another. Ashwell +could not be coaxed. Wearily Vane swung; the +shortstop raced out to get in line for a possible +hit through the wide space to his right, +and the second baseman got on his toes as both +base runners started. + +Crack! The old story of the hit and run game! +Ashwell's hit crossed sharply where a moment +before the shortstop had been standing. With +gigantic strides Rube rounded the corner and +scored. McCall flitted through second, and diving +into third with a cloud of dust, got the umpire's +decision. When Stringer hurried up with Mac +on third and Ash on first the whole field seemed +racked in a deafening storm. Again it subsided +quickly. The hopes of the Worcester fans had +been crushed too often of late for them to be fearless. + +But I had no fear. I only wanted the suspense +ended. I was like a man clamped in a vise. +Stringer stood motionless. Mac bent low with the +sprinters' stoop; Ash watched the pitcher's arm +and slowly edged off first. Stringer waited for +one strike and two balls, then he hit the next. It +hugged the first base line, bounced fiercely past +the bag and skipped over the grass to bump hard +into the fence. McCall romped home, and lame +Ashwell beat any run he ever made to the plate. +Rolling, swelling, crashing roar of frenzied feet +could not down the high piercing sustained yell of +the fans. It was great. Three weeks of submerged +bottled baseball joy exploded in one mad +outburst! The fans, too, had come into their own +again. + +We scored no more. But the Bisons were +beaten. Their spirit was broken. This did not +make the Rube let up in their last half inning. +Grim and pale he faced them. At every long step +and swing he tossed his shock of light hair. At +the end he was even stronger than at the beginning. +He still had the glancing, floating airy +quality that baseball players call speed. And he +struck out the last three batters. + +In the tumult that burst over my ears I sat +staring at the dots on my score card. Fourteen +strike outs! one scratch hit! No base on balls +since the first inning! That told the story which +deadened senses doubted. There was a roar in +my ears. Some one was pounding me. As I struggled +to get into the dressing room the crowd +mobbed me. But I did not hear what they yelled. +I had a kind of misty veil before my eyes, in +which I saw that lanky Rube magnified into a +glorious figure. I saw the pennant waving, and +the gleam of a white cottage through the trees, +and a trim figure waiting at the gate. Then I +rolled into the dressing room. + +Somehow it seemed strange to me. Most of the +players were stretched out in peculiar convulsions. +Old Spears sat with drooping head. Then +a wild flaming-eyed giant swooped upon me. With +a voice of thunder he announced: + +``I'm a-goin' to lick you, too!'' + +After that we never called him any name except +Rube. + + + +THE RUBE'S PENNANT + + +``Fellows, it's this way. You've got to win +today's game. It's the last of the season and +means the pennant for Worcester. One more +hard scrap and we're done! Of all the up-hill +fights any bunch ever made to land the flag, our +has been the best. You're the best team I ever +managed, the gamest gang of ball players that +ever stepped in spikes. We've played in the +hardest kind of luck all season, except that short +trip we called the Rube's Honeymoon. We got a +bad start, and sore arms and busted fingers, all +kinds of injuries, every accident calculated to hurt +a team's chances, came our way. But in spite of +it all we got the lead and we've held it, and today +we're still a few points ahead of Buffalo.'' + +I paused to catch my breath, and looked round +on the grim, tired faces of my players. They +made a stern group. The close of the season +found them almost played out. What a hard +chance it was, after their extraordinary efforts, +to bring the issue of the pennant down to this last +game! + +``If we lose today, Buffalo, with three games +more to play at home, will pull the bunting,'' I +went on. ``But they're not going to win! I'm +putting it up to you that way. I know Spears is +all in; Raddy's arm is gone; Ash is playing on +one leg; you're all crippled. But you've got one +more game in you, I know. These last few weeks +the Rube has been pitching out of turn and he's +about all in, too. He's kept us in the lead. If he +wins today it'll be Rube's Pennant. But that +might apply to all of you. Now, shall we talk +over the play today? Any tricks to pull off? Any +inside work?'' + +``Con, you're pretty much upset an' nervous,'' +replied Spears, soberly. ``It ain't no wonder. +This has been one corker of a season. I want to +suggest that you let me run the team today. I've +talked over the play with the fellers. We ain't +goin' to lose this game, Con. Buffalo has been +comin' with a rush lately, an' they're confident. +But we've been holdin' in, restin' up as much as +we dared an' still keep our lead. Mebbee it'll +surprise you to know we've bet every dollar we could +get hold of on this game. Why, Buffalo money is +everywhere.'' + +``All right, Spears, I'll turn the team over to +you. We've got the banner crowd of the year out +there right now, a great crowd to play before. +I'm more fussed up over this game than any I +remember. But I have a sort of blind faith in +my team. . . . I guess that's all I want to say.'' + +Spears led the silent players out of the dressing +room and I followed; and while they began to +toss balls to and fro, to limber up cold, dead arms, +I sat on the bench. + +The Bisons were prancing about the diamond, +and their swaggering assurance was not conducive +to hope for the Worcesters. I wondered +how many of that vast, noisy audience, intent on +the day's sport, even had a thought of what pain +and toil it meant to my players. The Buffalo men +were in good shape; they had been lucky; they +were at the top of their stride, and that made all +the difference. + +At any rate, there were a few faithful little +women in the grand stand--Milly and Nan and +Rose Stringer and Kate Bogart--who sat with +compressed lips and hoped and prayed for that +game to begin and end. + +The gong called off the practice, and Spears, +taking the field, yelled gruff encouragement to his +men. Umpire Carter brushed off the plate and +tossed a white ball to Rube and called: ``Play!'' +The bleachers set up an exultant, satisfied shout +and sat down to wait. + +Schultz toed the plate and watched the Rube +pitch a couple. There seemed to be no diminution +of the great pitcher's speed and both balls cut the +plate. Schultz clipped the next one down the third- +base Line. Bogart trapped it close to the bag, and +got it away underhand, beating the speedy runner +by a nose. It was a pretty play to start with, and +the spectators were not close-mouthed in +appreciation. The short, stocky Carl ambled up to +bat, and I heard him call the Rube something. It +was not a friendly contest, this deciding game +between Buffalo and Worcester. + +``Bing one close to his swelled nut!'' growled +Spears to the Rube. + +Carl chopped a bouncing grounder through +short and Ash was after it like a tiger, but it was +a hit. The Buffalo contingent opened up. Then +Manning faced the Rube, and he, too, vented +sarcasm. It might not have been heard by the slow, +imperturbable pitcher for all the notice he took. +Carl edged off first, slid back twice, got a third +start, and on the Rube's pitch was off for second +base with the lead that always made him dangerous. +Manning swung vainly, and Gregg snapped +a throw to Mullaney. Ball and runner got to the +bag apparently simultaneously; the umpire called +Carl out, and the crowd uttered a quick roar of +delight. + +The next pitch to Manning was a strike. Rube +was not wasting any balls, a point I noted with +mingled fear and satisfaction. For he might have +felt that he had no strength to spare that day and +so could not try to work the batters. Again he +swung, and Manning rapped a long line fly over +McCall. As the little left fielder turned at the +sound of the hit and sprinted out, his lameness +was certainly not in evidence. He was the swiftest +runner in the league and always when he got +going the crowd rose in wild clamor to watch him. +Mac took that fly right off the foul flag in deep +left, and the bleachers dinned their pleasure. + +The teams changed positions. ``Fellers,'' said +Spears, savagely, ``we may be a bunged-up lot of +stiffs, but, say! We can hit! If you love your +old captain--sting the ball!'' + +Vane, the Bison pitcher, surely had his work +cut out for him. For one sympathetic moment I +saw his part through his eyes. My Worcester +veterans, long used to being under fire, were +relentlessly bent on taking that game. It showed +in many ways, particularly in their silence, +because they were seldom a silent team. McCall +hesitated a moment over his bats. Then, as he +picked up the lightest one, I saw his jaw set, and +I knew he intended to bunt. He was lame, yet he +meant to beat out an infield hit. He went up +scowling. + +Vane had an old head, and he had a varied +assortment of balls. For Mac he used an under +hand curve, rising at the plate and curving in to +the left-hander. Mac stepped back and let it go. + +``That's the place, Bo,'' cried the Buffalo +infielders. ``Keep 'em close on the Crab.'' Eager and +fierce as McCall was, he let pitch after pitch go +by till he had three balls and two strikes. Still +the heady Vane sent up another pitch similar to +the others. Mac stepped forward in the box, +dropped his bat on the ball, and leaped down the +line toward first base. Vane came rushing in for +the bunt, got it and threw. But as the speeding +ball neared the baseman, Mac stretched out into +the air and shot for the bag. By a fraction of a +second he beat the ball. It was one of his demon- +slides. He knew that the chances favored his being +crippled; we all knew that some day Mac +would slide recklessly once too often. But that, +too, is all in the game and in the spirit of a great +player. + +``We're on,'' said Spears; ``now keep with +him.'' + +By that the captain meant that Mac would go +down, and Ashwell would hit with the run. + +When Vane pitched, little McCall was flitting +toward second. The Bison shortstop started for +the bag, and Ash hit square through his tracks. +A rolling cheer burst from the bleachers, and +swelled till McCall overran third base and was +thrown back by the coacher. Stringer hurried +forward with his big bat. + +``Oh! My!'' yelled a fan, and he voiced my +sentiments exactly. Here we would score, and be +one run closer to that dearly bought pennant. + +How well my men worked together! As the +pitcher let the ball go, Ash was digging for +second and Mac was shooting plateward. They +played on the chance of Stringer's hitting. +Stringer swung, the bat cracked, we heard a thud +somewhere, and then Manning, half knocked over, +was fumbling for the ball. He had knocked down +a terrific drive with his mitt, and he got the ball +in time to put Stringer out. But Mac scored and +Ash drew a throw to third base and beat it. He +had a bad ankle, but no one noticed it in that +daring run. + +``Watch me paste one!'' said Captain Spears, +as he spat several yards. He batted out a fly so +long and high and far that, slow as he was, he had +nearly run to second base when Carl made the +catch. Ash easily scored on the throw-in. Then +Bogart sent one skipping over second, and Treadwell, +scooping it on the run, completed a play that +showed why he was considered the star of the +Bison infield. + +``Two runs, fellers!'' said Spears. ``That's +some! Push 'em over, Rube.'' + +The second inning somewhat quickened the +pace. Even the Rube worked a little faster. Ellis +lined to Cairns in right; Treadwell fouled two +balls and had a called strike, and was out; McKnight +hit a low fly over short, then Bud Wiler +sent one between Spears and Mullaney. Spears +went for it while the Rube with giant strides ran +to cover first base. Between them they got Bud, +but it was only because he was heavy and slow +on his feet. + +In our half of that inning Mullaney, Gregg and +Cairns went out in one, two, three order. + +With Pannell up, I saw that the Rube held in +on his speed, or else he was tiring. Pannell hit +the second slow ball for two bases. Vane sacrificed, +and then the redoubtable Schultz came up. +He appeared to be in no hurry to bat. Then I +saw that the foxy Buffalo players were working +to tire the Rube. They had the situation figured. +But they were no wiser than old Spears. + +``Make 'em hit, Rube. Push 'em straight over. +Never mind the corners. We don't care for a +few runs. We'll hit this game out.'' + +Shultz flied to Mac, who made a beautiful throw +to the plate too late to catch Pannell. Carl +deliberately bunted to the right of the Rube and it +cost the big pitcher strenuous effort to catch his +man. + +``We got the Rube waggin'!'' yelled a Buffalo +player. + +Manning tripled down the left foul line--a hit +the bleachers called a screamer. When Ellis +came up, it looked like a tie score, and when the +Rube pitched it was plain that he was tired. The +Bisons yelled their assurance of this and the +audience settled into quiet. Ellis batted a +scorcher that looked good for a hit. But the fast +Ashwell was moving with the ball, and he plunged +lengthwise to get it square in his glove. The hit +had been so sharp that he had time to get up and +make the throw to beat the runner. The bleachers +thundered at the play. + +``You're up, Rube,'' called Spears. ``Lam one +out of the lot!'' + +The Rube was an uncertain batter. There was +never any telling what he might do, for he had +spells of good and bad hitting. But when he did +get his bat on the ball it meant a chase for some +fielder. He went up swinging his huge club, and +he hit a fly that would have been an easy home run +for a fast man. But the best Rube could do was +to reach third base. This was certainly good +enough, as the bleachers loudly proclaimed, and +another tally for us seemed sure. + +McCall bunted toward third, another of his +teasers. The Rube would surely have scored had +he started with the ball, but he did not try and +missed a chance. Wiler, of course, held the ball, +and Mac got to first without special effort. He +went down on the first pitch. Then Ash lined to +Carl. The Rube waited till the ball was caught +and started for home. The crowd screamed, the +Rube ran for all he was worth and Carl's throw +to the plate shot in low and true. Ellis blocked +the Rube and tagged him out. + +It looked to the bleachers as if Ellis had been +unnecessarily rough, and they hissed and stormed +disapproval. As for me, I knew the Bisons were +losing no chance to wear out my pitcher. Stringer +fouled out with Mac on third, and it made him so +angry that he threw his bat toward the bench, +making some of the boys skip lively. + +The next three innings, as far as scoring was +concerned, were all for Buffalo. But the Worcester +infield played magnificent ball, holding their +opponents to one run each inning. + +That made the score 4 to 2 in favor of Buffalo. + +In the last half of the sixth, with Ash on first +base and two men out, old Spears hit another of +his lofty flies, and this one went over the fence +and tied the score. How the bleachers roared! +It was full two minutes before they quieted down. +To make it all the more exciting, Bogart hit +safely, ran like a deer to third on Mullaney's +grounder, which Wiler knocked down, and scored +on a passed ball. Gregg ended the inning by +striking out. + +``Get at the Rube!'' boomed Ellis, the Bison +captain. ``We'll have him up in the air soon. Get +in the game now, you stickers!'' + +Before I knew what had happened, the Bisons +had again tied the score. They were indomitable. +They grew stronger all the time. A stroke of +good luck now would clinch the game for them. +The Rube was beginning to labor in the box; Ashwell +was limping; Spears looked as if he would +drop any moment; McCall could scarcely walk. +But if the ball came his way he could still run. +Nevertheless, I never saw any finer fielding than +these cripped players executed that inning. + +``Ash--Mac--can you hold out?'' I asked, when +they limped in. I received glances of scorn for +my question. Spears, however, was not sanguine. + +``I'll stick pretty much if somethin' doesn't +happen,'' he said; ``but I'm all in. I'll need a +runner if I get to first this time.'' + +Spears lumbered down to first base on an +infield hit and the heavy Manning gave him the hip. +Old Spears went down, and I for one knew he +was out in more ways than that signified by +Carter's sharp: ``Out!'' + +The old war-horse gathered himself up slowly +and painfully, and with his arms folded and his +jaw protruding, he limped toward the umpire. + +``Did you call me out?'' he asked, in a voice +plainly audible to any one on the field. + +``Yes,'' snapped Carter. + +``What for? I beat the ball, an' Mannin' +played dirty with me--gave me the hip.'' + +``I called you out.'' + +``But I wasn't out!'' + +``Shut up now! Get off the diamond!'' ordered +Carter, peremptorily. + +``What? Me? Say, I'm captain of this team. +Can't I question a decision?'' + +``Not mine. Spears, you're delaying the +game.'' + +``I tell you it was a rotten decision,'' yelled +Spears. The bleachers agreed with him. + +Carter grew red in the face. He and Spears +had before then met in field squabbles, and he +showed it. + +``Fifty dollars!'' + +``More! You cheap-skate you piker! More!'' + +``It's a hundred!'' + +``Put me out of the game!'' roared Spears. + +``You bet! Hurry now--skedaddle!'' + +``Rob-b-ber!'' bawled Spears. + +Then he labored slowly toward the bench, all +red, and yet with perspiration, his demeanor one +of outraged dignity. The great crowd, as one +man, stood up and yelled hoarsely at Carter, and +hissed and railed at him. When Spears got to +the bench he sat down beside me as if in pain, but +he was smiling. + +``Con, I was all in, an' knowin' I couldn't play +any longer, thought I'd try to scare Carter. Say, +he was white in the face. If we play into a close +decision now, he'll give it to us.'' + +Bogart and Mullaney batted out in short order, +and once more the aggressive Bisons hurried in +for their turn. Spears sent Cairns to first base +and Jones to right. The Rube lobbed up his slow +ball. In that tight pinch he showed his splendid +nerve. Two Buffalo players, over-anxious, +popped up flies. The Rube kept on pitching the +slow curve until it was hit safely. Then heaving +his shoulders with all his might he got all +the motion possible into his swing and let drive. +He had almost all of his old speed, but it hurt +me to see him work with such desperate effort. +He struck Wiler out. + +He came stooping into the bench, apparently +deaf to the stunning round of applause. Every +player on the team had a word for the Rube. +There was no quitting in that bunch, and if I ever +saw victory on the stern faces of ball players it +was in that moment. + +``We haven't opened up yet. Mebbee this is +the innin'. If it ain't, the next is,'' said Spears. + +With the weak end of the batting list up, there +seemed little hope of getting a run on Vane that +inning. He had so much confidence that he put +the ball over for Gregg, who hit out of the reach +of the infield. Again Vane sent up his straight +ball, no doubt expecting Cairns to hit into a +double play. But Cairns surprised Vane and +everybody else by poking a safety past first base. +The fans began to howl and pound and whistle. + +The Rube strode to bat. The infield closed in +for a bunt, but the Rube had no orders for that +style of play. Spears had said nothing to him. +Vane lost his nonchalance and settled down. He +cut loose with all his speed. Rube stepped out, +suddenly whirled, then tried to dodge, but the ball +hit him fair in the back. Rube sagged in his +tracks, then straightened up, and walked slowly +to first base. Score 5 to 5, bases full, no outs, +McCall at bat. I sat dumb on the bench, thrilling +and shivering. McCall! Ashwell! Stringer to +bat! + +``Play it safe! Hold the bags!'' yelled the +coacher. + +McCall fairly spouted defiance as he faced +Vane. + +``Pitch! It's all off! An' you know it!'' + +If Vane knew that, he showed no evidence of +it. His face was cold, unsmiling, rigid. He had +to pitch to McCall, the fastest man in the league; +to Ashwell, the best bunter; to Stringer, the +champion batter. It was a supreme test for a great +pitcher. There was only one kind of a ball that +McCall was not sure to hit, and that was a high +curve, in close. Vane threw it with all his power. +Carter called it a strike. Again Vane swung and +his arm fairly cracked. Mac fouled the ball. The +third was wide. Slowly, with lifting breast, Vane +got ready, whirled savagely and shot up the ball. +McCall struck out. + +As the Buffalo players crowed and the audience +groaned it was worthy of note that little McCall +showed no temper. Yet he had failed to grasp a +great opportunity. + +``Ash, I couldn't see 'em,'' he said, as he passed +to the bench. ``Speed, whew! look out for it. +He's been savin' up. Hit quick, an' you'll get +him.'' + +Ashwell bent over the plate and glowered at +Vane. + +``Pitch! It's all off! An' you know it!'' he +hissed, using Mac's words. + +Ashwell, too, was left-handed; he, too, was +extremely hard to pitch to; and if he had a weakness +that any of us ever discovered, it was a slow +curve and change of pace. But I doubted if Vane +would dare to use slow balls to Ash at that critical +moment. I had yet to learn something of Vane. +He gave Ash a slow, wide-sweeping sidewheeler, +that curved round over the plate. Ash always +took a strike, so this did not matter. Then Vane +used his deceptive change of pace, sending up a +curve that just missed Ash's bat as he swung. + +``Oh! A-h-h! hit!'' wailed the bleachers. + +Vane doubled up like a contortionist, and shot +up a lightning-swift drop that fooled Ash +completely. Again the crowd groaned. Score tied, +bases full, two out, Stringer at bat! + +``It's up to you, String,'' called Ash, stepping +aside. + +Stringer did not call out to Vane. That was +not his way. He stood tense and alert, bat on his +shoulder, his powerful form braced, and he +waited. The outfielders trotted over toward right +field, and the infielders played deep, calling out +warnings and encouragement to the pitcher. +Stringer had no weakness, and Vane knew this. +Nevertheless he did not manifest any uneasiness, +and pitched the first ball without any extra +motion. Carter called it a strike. I saw Stringer +sink down slightly and grow tenser all over. I +believe that moment was longer for me than for +either the pitcher or the batter. Vane took his +time, watched the base runners, feinted to throw +to catch them, and then delivered the ball toward +the plate with the limit of his power. + +Stringer hit the ball. As long as I live, I will +see that glancing low liner. Shultz, by a wonderful +play in deep center, blocked the ball and +thereby saved it from being a home run. But +when Stringer stopped on second base, all the +runners had scored. + +A shrill, shrieking, high-pitched yell! The +bleachers threatened to destroy the stands and +also their throats in one long revel of baseball +madness. + +Jones, batting in place of Spears, had gone +up and fouled out before the uproar had subsided. + +``Fellers, I reckon I feel easier,'' said the Rube. +It was the only time I had ever heard him speak +to the players at such a stage + +``Only six batters, Rube,'' called out Spears. +``Boys, it's a grand game, an' it's our'n!'' + +The Rube had enough that inning to dispose of +the lower half of the Buffalo list without any +alarming bids for a run. And in our half, Bogart +and Mullaney hit vicious ground balls that gave +Treadwell and Wiler opportunities for superb +plays. Carl, likewise, made a beautiful running +catch of Gregg's line fly. The Bisons were still +in the game, still capable of pulling it out at the +last moment. + +When Shultz stalked up to the plate I shut my +eyes a moment, and so still was it that the field +and stands might have been empty. Yet, though +I tried, I could not keep my eyes closed. I opened +them to watch the Rube. I knew Spears felt the +same as I, for he was blowing like a porpoise and +muttering to himself: ``Mebee the Rube won't +last an' I've no one to put in!'' + +The Rube pitched with heavy, violent effort. +He had still enough speed to be dangerous. But +after the manner of ball players Shultz and the +coachers mocked him. + +``Take all you can,'' called Ellis to Shultz. + +Every pitch lessened the Rube's strength and +these wise opponents knew it. Likewise the Rube +himself knew, and never had he shown better head +work than in this inning. If he were to win, he +must be quick. So he wasted not a ball. The first +pitch and the second, delivered breast high and +fairly over the plate, beautiful balls to hit, Shultz +watched speed by. He swung hard on the third +and the crippled Ashwell dove for it in a cloud +of dust, got a hand in front of it, but uselessly, +for the hit was safe. The crowd cheered that +splendid effort. + +Carl marched to bat, and he swung his club over +the plate as if he knew what to expect. ``Come +on, Rube!'' he shouted. Wearily, doggedly, the +Rube whirled, and whipped his arm. The ball +had all his old glancing speed and it was a strike. +The Rube was making a tremendous effort. +Again he got his body in convulsive motion--two +strikes! Shultz had made no move to run, nor +had Carl made any move to hit. These veterans +were waiting. The Rube had pitched five strikes +--could he last? + +``Now, Carl!'' yelled Ellis, with startling +suddenness, as the Rube pitched again. + +Crack! Carl placed that hit as safely through +short as if he had thrown it. McCall's little legs +twinkled as he dashed over the grass. He had to +head off that hit and he ran like a streak. Down +and forward he pitched, as if in one of his fierce +slides, and he got his body in front of the ball, +blocking it, and then he rolled over and over. But +he jumped up and lined the ball to Bogart, almost +catching Shultz at third-base. Then, as Mac tried +to walk, his lame leg buckled under him, and down +he went, and out. + +``Call time,'' I called to Carter. ``McCall is +done. . . . Myers, you go to left an' for Lord's +sake play ball!'' + +Stringer and Bogart hurried to Mac and, lifting +him up and supporting him between them +with his arms around their shoulders, they led +him off amid cheers from the stands. Mac was +white with pain. + +``Naw, I won't go off the field. Leave me on +the bench,'' he said. ``Fight 'em now. It's our +game. Never mind a couple of runs.'' + +The boys ran back to their positions and Carter +called play. Perhaps a little delay had been helpful +to the Rube. Slowly he stepped into the box +and watched Shultz at third and Carl at second. +There was not much probability of his throwing +to catch them off the base, but enough of a +possibility to make them careful, so he held them +close. + +The Rube pitched a strike to Manning, then +another. That made eight strikes square over the +plate that inning. What magnificent control! It +was equaled by the implacable patience of those +veteran Bisons. Manning hit the next ball as +hard as Carl had hit his. But Mullaney plunged +down, came up with the ball, feinted to fool Carl, +then let drive to Gregg to catch the fleeting Shultz. +The throw went wide, but Gregg got it, and, leaping +lengthwise, tagged Shultz out a yard from the +plate. + +One out. Two runners on bases. The bleachers +rose and split their throats. Would the inning +never end? + +Spears kept telling himself: ``They'll score, +but we'll win. It's our game!'' + +I had a sickening fear that the strange confidence +that obsessed the Worcester players had +been blind, unreasoning vanity. + +``Carl will steal,'' muttered Spears. ``He +can't be stopped.'' + +Spears had called the play. The Rube tried to +hold the little base-stealer close to second, but, +after one attempt, wisely turned to his hard task +of making the Bisons hit and hit quickly. Ellis +let the ball pass; Gregg made a perfect throw to +third; Bogart caught the ball and moved like a +flash, but Carl slid under his hands to the bag. +Manning ran down to second. The Rube pitched +again, and this was his tenth ball over the plate. +Even the Buffalo players evinced eloquent appreciation +of the Rube's defence at this last stand. + +Then Ellis sent a clean hit to right, scoring both +Carl and Manning. I breathed easier, for it +seemed with those two runners in, the Rube had a +better chance. Treadwell also took those two +runners in, the Rube had a way those Bisons +waited. They had their reward, for the Rube's +speed left him. When he pitched again the ball +had control, but no shoot. Treadwell hit it with +all his strength. Like a huge cat Ashwell pounced +upon it, ran over second base, forcing Ellis, and +his speedy snap to first almost caught Treadwell. + +Score 8 to 7. Two out. Runner on first. One +run to tie. + +In my hazy, dimmed vision I saw the Rube's +pennant waving from the flag-pole. + +``It's our game!'' howled Spears in my ear, +for the noise from the stands was deafening. +``It's our pennant!'' + +The formidable batting strength of the Bisons +had been met, not without disaster, but without +defeat. McKnight came up for Buffalo and the +Rube took his weary swing. The batter made a +terrific lunge and hit the ball with a solid crack +It lined for center. + +Suddenly electrified into action, I leaped up. +That hit! It froze me with horror. It was a +home-run. I saw Stringer fly toward left center. +He ran like something wild. I saw the heavy +Treadwell lumbering round the bases. I saw Ashwell +run out into center field. + +``Ah-h!'' The whole audience relieved its +terror in that expulsion of suspended breath. +Stringer had leaped high to knock down the ball, +saving a sure home-run and the game. He recovered +himself, dashed back for the ball and shot +it to Ash. + +When Ash turned toward the plate, Treadwell +was rounding third base. A tie score appeared +inevitable. I saw Ash's arm whip and the ball +shoot forward, leveled, glancing, beautiful in its +flight. The crowd saw it, and the silence broke +to a yell that rose and rose as the ball sped in. +That yell swelled to a splitting shriek, and +Treadwell slid in the dust, and the ball shot into +Gregg's hands all at the same instant. + +Carter waved both arms upwards. It was the +umpire's action when his decision went against +the base-runner. The audience rolled up one great +stenorian cry. + +``Out!'' + +I collapsed and sank back upon the bench. My +confused senses received a dull roar of pounding +feet and dinning voices as the herald of victory. +I felt myself thinking how pleased Milly would be. +I had a distinct picture in my mind of a white +cottage on a hill, no longer a dream, but a reality, +made possible for me by the Rube's winning of +the pennant, + + + +THE RUBE'S HONEYMOON + + +``He's got a new manager. Watch him pitch +now!'' That was what Nan Brown said to me +about Rube Hurtle, my great pitcher, and I took +it as her way of announcing her engagement. + +My baseball career held some proud moments, +but this one, wherein I realized the success of my +matchmaking plans, was certainly the proudest +one. So, entirely outside of the honest pleasure +I got out of the Rube's happiness, there was +reason for me to congratulate myself. He was a +transformed man, so absolutely renewed, so wild +with joy, that on the strength of it, I decided the +pennant for Worcester was a foregone conclusion, +and, sure of the money promised me by the +directors, Milly and I began to make plans for +the cottage upon the hill. + +The Rube insisted on pitching Monday's game +against the Torontos, and although poor fielding +gave them a couple of runs, they never had a +chance. They could not see the ball. The Rube +wrapped it around their necks and between their +wrists and straight over the plate with such +incredible speed that they might just as well have +tried to bat rifle bullets. + +That night I was happy. Spears, my veteran +captain, was one huge smile; Radbourne quietly +assured me that all was over now but the shouting; +all the boys were happy. + +And the Rube was the happiest of all. At the +hotel he burst out with his exceeding good +fortune. He and Nan were to be married upon the +Fourth of July! + +After the noisy congratulations were over and +the Rube had gone, Spears looked at me and I +looked at him. + +``Con,'' said he soberly, ``we just can't let him +get married on the Fourth.'' + +``Why not? Sure we can. We'll help him get +married. I tell you it'll save the pennant for us. +Look how he pitched today! Nan Brown is our +salvation!'' + +``See here, Con, you've got softenin' of the +brain, too. Where's your baseball sense? We've +got a pennant to win. By July Fourth we'll be +close to the lead again, an' there's that three +weeks' trip on the road, the longest an' hardest +of the season. We've just got to break even on +that trip. You know what that means. If the +Rube marries Nan--what are we goin' to do? We +can't leave him behind. If he takes Nan with us +--why it'll be a honeymoon! An' half the gang +is stuck on Nan Brown! An' Nan Brown would +flirt in her bridal veil! . . . Why Con, we're up +against a worse proposition than ever.'' + +``Good Heavens! Cap. You're right,'' I +groaned. ``I never thought of that. We've got +to postpone the wedding. . . . How on earth can +we? I've heard her tell Milly that. She'll never +consent to it. Say, this'll drive me to drink.'' + +``All I got to say is this, Con. If the Rube +takes his wife on that trip it's goin' to be an all- +fired hummer. Don't you forget that.'' + +``I'm not likely to. But, Spears, the point is +this--will the Rube win his games?'' + +``Figurin' from his work today, I'd gamble +he'll never lose another game. It ain't that. I'm +thinkin' of what the gang will do to him an' Nan +on the cars an' at the hotels. Oh! Lord, Con, it +ain't possible to stand for that honeymoon trip! +Just think!'' + +``If the worst comes to the worst, Cap, I don't +care for anything but the games. If we get in the +lead and stay there I'll stand for anything. . . . +Couldn't the gang be coaxed or bought off to let +the Rube and Nan alone?'' + +``Not on your life! There ain't enough love or +money on earth to stop them. It'll be awful. +Mind, I'm not responsible. Don't you go holdin' +me responsible. In all my years of baseball I +never went on a trip with a bride in the game. +That's new on me, an' I never heard of it. I'd be +bad enough if he wasn't a rube an' if she wasn't +a crazy girl-fan an' a flirt to boot, an' with half +the boys in love with her, but as it is----'' + +Spears gave up and, gravely shaking his head, +he left me. I spent a little while in sober reflection, +and finally came to the conclusion that, in my +desperate ambition to win the pennant, I would +have taken half a dozen rube pitchers and their +baseball-made brides on the trip, if by so doing +I could increase the percentage of games won. +Nevertheless, I wanted to postpone the Rube's +wedding if it was possible, and I went out to see +Milly and asked her to help us. But for once in +her life Milly turned traitor. + +``Connie, you don't want to postpone it. Why, +how perfectly lovely! . . . Mrs. Stringer will go +on that trip and Mrs. Bogart. . . . Connie, I'm +going too!'' + +She actually jumped up and down in glee. That +was the woman in her. It takes a wedding to get +a woman. I remonstrated and pleaded and commanded, +all to no purpose. Milly intended to go +on that trip to see the games, and the fun, and the +honeymoon. + +She coaxed so hard that I yielded. Thereupon +she called up Mrs. Stringer on the telephone, and +of course found that young woman just as eager +as she was. For my part, I threw anxiety and +care to the four winds, and decided to be as happy +as any of them. The pennant was mine! Something +kept ringing that in my ears. With the +Rube working his iron arm for the edification of +his proud Nancy Brown, there was extreme likelihood +of divers shut-outs and humiliating defeats +for some Eastern League teams. + +How well I calculated became a matter of +baseball history during that last week of June. We +won six straight games, three of which fell to the +Rube's credit. His opponents scored four runs +in the three games, against the nineteen we made. +Upon July 1, Radbourne beat Providence and +Cairns won the second game. We now had a +string of eight victories. Sunday we rested, and +Monday was the Fourth, with morning and afternoon +games with Buffalo. + +Upon the morning of the Fourth, I looked for +the Rube at the hotel, but could not find him. He +did not show up at the grounds when the other +boys did, and I began to worry. It was the Rube's +turn to pitch and we were neck and neck with Buffalo +for first place. If we won both games we +would go ahead of our rivals. So I was all on +edge, and kept going to the dressing-room to see +if the Rube had arrived. He came, finally, when +all the boys were dressed, and about to go out for +practice. He had on a new suit, a tailor-made suit +at that, and he looked fine. There was about him +a kind of strange radiance. He stated simply +that he had arrived late because he had just been +married. Before congratulations were out of our +mouths, he turned to me. + +``Con, I want to pitch both games today,'' he +said. + +``What! Say, Whit, Buffalo is on the card +today and we are only three points behind them. +If we win both we'll be leading the league once +more. I don't know about pitching you both +games.'' + +``I reckon we'll be in the lead tonight then,'' +he replied, ``for I'll win them both.'' + +I was about to reply when Dave, the ground- +keeper, called me to the door, saying there was a +man to see me. I went out, and there stood Morrisey, +manager of the Chicago American League +team. We knew each other well and exchanged +greetings. + +``Con, I dropped off to see you about this new +pitcher of yours, the one they call the Rube. I +want to see him work. I've heard he's pretty +fast. How about it?'' + +``Wait--till you see him pitch,'' I replied. I +could scarcely get that much out, for Morrisey's +presence meant a great deal and I did not want +to betray my elation. + +``Any strings on him?'' queried the big league +manager, sharply. + +``Well, Morrisey, not exactly. I can give you +the first call. You'll have to bid high, though. +Just wait till you see him work.'' + +``I'm glad to hear that. My scout was over +here watching him pitch and says he's a wonder.'' + +What luck it was that Morrisey should have +come upon this day! I could hardly contain myself. +Almost I began to spend the money I would +get for selling the Rube to the big league manager. +We took seats in the grand stand, as Morrisey +did not want to be seen by any players, and +I stayed there with him until the gong sounded. +There was a big attendance. I looked all over +the stand for Nan, but she was lost in the gay +crowd. But when I went down to the bench I +saw her up in my private box with Milly. It took +no second glance to see that Nan Brown was a +bride and glorying in the fact. + +Then, in the absorption of the game, I became +oblivious to Milly and Nan; the noisy crowd; the +giant fire-crackers and the smoke; to the presence +of Morrisey; to all except the Rube and my team +and their opponents. Fortunately for my hopes, +the game opened with characteristic Worcester +dash. Little McCall doubled, Ashwell drew his +base on four wide pitches, and Stringer drove the +ball over the right-field fence--three runs! + +Three runs were enough to win that game. Of +all the exhibitions of pitching with which the Rube +had favored us, this one was the finest. It was +perhaps not so much his marvelous speed and +unhittable curves that made the game one memorable +in the annals of pitching; it was his perfect +control in the placing of balls, in the cutting +of corners; in his absolute implacable mastery of +the situation. Buffalo was unable to find him at +all. The game was swift short, decisive, with +the score 5 to 0 in our favor. But the score did +not tell all of the Rube's work that morning. He +shut out Buffalo without a hit, or a scratch, the +first no-hit, no-run game of the year. He gave +no base on balls; not a Buffalo player got to first +base; only one fly went to the outfield. + +For once I forgot Milly after a game, and I +hurried to find Morrisey, and carried him off to +have dinner with me. + +``Your rube is a wonder, and that's a fact,'' he +said to me several times. ``Where on earth did +you get him? Connelly, he's my meat. Do you +understand? Can you let me have him right +now?'' + +``No, Morrisey, I've got the pennant to win +first. Then I'll sell him.'' + +``How much? Do you hear? How much?'' +Morrisey hammered the table with his fist and +his eyes gleamed. + +Carried away as I was by his vehemence, I was +yet able to calculate shrewdly, and I decided to +name a very high price, from which I could come +down and still make a splendid deal. + +``How much?'' demanded Morrisey. + +``Five thousand dollars,'' I replied, and gulped +when I got the words out. + +Morrisey never batted an eye. + +``Waiter, quick, pen and ink and paper!'' + +Presently my hand, none too firm, was signing +my name to a contract whereby I was to sell my +pitcher for five thousand dollars at the close of +the current season. I never saw a man look so +pleased as Morrisey when he folded that contract +and put it in his pocket. He bade me good-bye +and hurried off to catch a train, and he never +knew the Rube had pitched the great game on his +wedding day. + +That afternoon before a crowd that had to be +roped off the diamond, I put the Rube against +the Bisons. How well he showed the baseball +knowledge he had assimilated! He changed his +style in that second game. He used a slow ball +and wide curves and took things easy. He made +Buffalo hit the ball and when runners got on +bases once more let out his speed and held them +down. He relied upon the players behind him +and they were equal to the occasion. + +It was a totally different game from that of +the morning, and perhaps one more suited to the +pleasure of the audience. There was plenty of +hard hitting, sharp fielding and good base +running, and the game was close and exciting up to +the eighth, when Mullaney's triple gave us two +runs, and a lead that was not headed. To the +deafening roar of the bleachers the Rube walked +off the field, having pitched Worcester into first +place in the pennant race. + +That night the boys planned their first job on +the Rube. We had ordered a special Pullman +for travel to Toronto, and when I got to the depot +in the morning, the Pullman was a white fluttering +mass of satin ribbons. Also, there was a +brass band, and thousands of baseball fans, and +barrels of old foot-gear. The Rube and Nan +arrived in a cab and were immediately mobbed. +The crowd roared, the band played, the engine +whistled, the bell clanged; and the air was full +of confetti and slippers, and showers of rice like +hail pattered everywhere. A somewhat dishevelled +bride and groom boarded the Pullman and +breathlessly hid in a state room. The train +started, and the crowd gave one last rousing +cheer. Old Spears yelled from the back platform: + +``Fellers, an' fans, you needn't worry none +about leavin' the Rube an' his bride to the tender +mercies of the gang. A hundred years from now +people will talk about this honeymoon baseball +trip. Wait till we come back--an' say, jest to put +you wise, no matter what else happens, we're +comin' back in first place!'' + +It was surely a merry party in that Pullman. +The bridal couple emerged from their hiding place +and held a sort of reception in which the Rube +appeared shy and frightened, and Nan resembled +a joyous, fluttering bird in gray. I did not see +if she kissed every man on the team, but she kissed +me as if she had been wanting to do it for ages. +Milly kissed the Rube, and so did the other women, +to his infinite embarrassment. Nan's effect upon +that crowd was most singular. She was sweetness +and caprice and joy personified. + +We settled down presently to something +approaching order, and I, for one, with very keen +ears and alert eyes, because I did not want to +miss anything. + +``I see the lambs a-gambolin','' observed McCall, +in a voice louder than was necessary to convey +his meaning to Mullaney, his partner in the +seat. + +``Yes, it do seem as if there was joy aboundin' +hereabouts,'' replied Mul with fervor. + +``It's more spring-time than summer,'' said +Ashwell, ``an' everything in nature is runnin' in +pairs. There are the sheep an' the cattle an' the +birds. I see two kingfishers fishin' over here. +An' there's a couple of honey-bees makin' honey. +Oh, honey, an' by George, if there ain't two +butterflies foldin' their wings round each other. See +the dandelions kissin' in the field!'' + +Then the staid Captain Spears spoke up with +an appearance of sincerity and a tone that was +nothing short of remarkable. + +``Reggie, see the sunshine asleep upon yon +bank. Ain't it lovely? An' that white cloud +sailin' thither amid the blue--how spontaneous! +Joy is a-broad o'er all this boo-tiful land today +--Oh, yes! An' love's wings hover o 'er the little +lambs an' the bullfrogs in the pond an' the dicky +birds in the trees. What sweetness to lie in the +grass, the lap of bounteous earth, eatin' apples in +the Garden of Eden, an' chasin' away the snakes +an' dreamin' of Thee, Sweet-h-e-a-r-t----'' + +Spears was singing when he got so far and +there was no telling what he might have done if +Mullaney, unable to stand the agony, had not +jabbed a pin in him. But that only made way for +the efforts of the other boys, each of whom tried +to outdo the other in poking fun at the Rube and +Nan. The big pitcher was too gloriously happy +to note much of what went on around him, but +when it dawned upon him he grew red and white +by turns. + +Nan, however, was more than equal to the +occasion. Presently she smiled at Spears, such a +smile! The captain looked as if he had just partaken +of an intoxicating wine. With a heightened +color in her cheeks and a dangerous flash in her +roguish eyes, Nan favored McCall with a look, +which was as much as to say that she remembered +him with a dear sadness. She made eyes at every +fellow in the car, and then bringing back her gaze +to the Rube, as if glorying in comparison, she +nestled her curly black head on his shoulder. He +gently tried to move her; but it was not possible. +Nan knew how to meet the ridicule of half a dozen +old lovers. One by one they buried themselves +in newspapers, and finally McCall, for once utterly +beaten, showed a white feather, and sank back +out of sight behind his seat. + +The boys did not recover from that shock until +late in the afternoon. As it was a physical +impossibility for Nan to rest her head all day upon +her husband's broad shoulder, the boys toward +dinner time came out of their jealous trance. I +heard them plotting something. When dinner +was called, about half of my party, including the +bride and groom, went at once into the dining-car. +Time there flew by swiftly. And later, when we +were once more in our Pullman, and I had gotten +interested in a game of cards with Milly and +Stringer and his wife, the Rube came marching +up to me with a very red face. + +``Con, I reckon some of the boys have stolen +my--our grips,'' said he. + +``What?'' I asked, blankly. + +He explained that during his absence in the +dining-car someone had entered his stateroom +and stolen his grip and Nan's. I hastened at once +to aid the Rube in his search. The boys swore +by everything under and beyond the sun they had +not seen the grips; they appeared very much +grieved at the loss and pretended to help in +searching the Pullman. At last, with the assistance +of a porter, we discovered the missing grips +in an upper berth. The Rube carried them off to +his stateroom and we knew soon from his +uncomplimentary remarks that the contents of the +suitcases had been mixed and manhandled. But he +did not hunt for the jokers. + +We arrived at Toronto before daylight next +morning, and remained in the Pullman until seven +o'clock. When we got out, it was discovered that +the Rube and Nan had stolen a march upon us. +We traced them to the hotel, and found them at +breakfast. After breakfast we formed a merry +sight-seeing party and rode all over the city. + +That afternoon, when Raddy let Toronto down +with three hits and the boys played a magnificent +game behind him, and we won 7 to 2, I knew at +last and for certain that the Worcester team had +come into its own again. Then next day Cairns +won a close, exciting game, and following that, on +the third day, the matchless Rube toyed with the +Torontos. Eleven straight games won! I was in +the clouds, and never had I seen so beautiful a +light as shone in Milly's eyes. + +From that day The Honeymoon Trip of the +Worcester Baseball Club, as the newspapers +heralded it--was a triumphant march. We won +two out of three games at Montreal, broke even +with the hard-fighting Bisons, took three straight +from Rochester, and won one and tied one out of +three with Hartford. It would have been wonderful +ball playing for a team to play on home +grounds and we were doing the full circuit of +the league. + +Spears had called the turn when he said the +trip would be a hummer. Nan Hurtle had brought +us wonderful luck. + +But the tricks they played on Whit and his girl- +fan bride! + +Ashwell, who was a capital actor, disguised +himself as a conductor and pretended to try to +eject Whit and Nan from the train, urging that +love-making was not permitted. Some of the +team hired a clever young woman to hunt the +Rube up at the hotel, and claim old acquaintance +with him. Poor Whit almost collapsed when the +young woman threw her arms about his neck just +as Nan entered the parlor. Upon the instant Nan +became wild as a little tigress, and it took much +explanation and eloquence to reinstate Whit in +her affections. + +Another time Spears, the wily old fox, succeeded +in detaining Nan on the way to the station, +and the two missed the train. At first the Rube +laughed with the others, but when Stringer +remarked that he had noticed a growing attachment +between Nan and Spears, my great pitcher +experienced the first pangs of the green-eyed +monster. We had to hold him to keep him from +jumping from the train, and it took Milly and Mrs. +Stringer to soothe him. I had to wire back to +Rochester for a special train for Spears and Nan, +and even then we had to play half a game without +the services of our captain. + +So far upon our trip I had been fortunate in +securing comfortable rooms and the best of +transportation for my party. At Hartford, however, +I encountered difficulties. I could not get a special +Pullman, and the sleeper we entered already +had a number of occupants. After the ladies of +my party had been assigned to berths, it was +necessary for some of the boys to sleep double in +upper berths. + +It was late when we got aboard, the berths were +already made up, and soon we had all retired. +In the morning very early I was awakened by a +disturbance. It sounded like a squeal. I heard +an astonished exclamation, another squeal, the +pattering of little feet, then hoarse uproar of +laughter from the ball players in the upper berths. +Following that came low, excited conversation +between the porter and somebody, then an angry +snort from the Rube and the thud of his heavy +feet in the aisle. What took place after that was +guess-work for me. But I gathered from the +roars and bawls that the Rube was after some of +the boys. I poked my head between the curtains +and saw him digging into the berths. + +``Where's McCall?'' he yelled. + +Mac was nowhere in that sleeper, judging from +the vehement denials. But the Rube kept on digging +and prodding in the upper berths. + +``I'm a-goin' to lick you, Mac, so I reckon you'd +better show up,'' shouted the Rube. + +The big fellow was mad as a hornet. When he +got to me he grasped me with his great fence- +rail splitting hands and I cried out with pain. + +``Say! Whit, let up! Mac's not here. . . . +What's wrong?'' + +``I'll show you when I find him.'' And the +Rube stalked on down the aisle, a tragically comic +figure in his pajamas. In his search for Mac he +pried into several upper berths that contained +occupants who were not ball players, and these +protested in affright. Then the Rube began to +investigate the lower berths. A row of heads +protruded in a bobbing line from between the +curtains of the upper berths. + +``Here, you Indian! Don't you look in there! +That's my wife's berth!'' yelled Stringer. + +Bogart, too, evinced great excitement. + +``Hurtle, keep out of lower eight or I'll kill +you,'' he shouted. + +What the Rube might have done there was no +telling, but as he grasped a curtain, he was +interrupted by a shriek from some woman assuredly +not of our party. + +``Get out! you horrid wretch! Help! Porter! +Help! Conductor!'' + +Instantly there was a deafening tumult in the +car. When it had subsided somewhat, and I considered +I would be safe, I descended from my +berth and made my way to the dressing room. +Sprawled over the leather seat was the Rube +pommelling McCall with hearty good will. I would +have interfered, had it not been for Mac's +demeanor. He was half frightened, half angry, and +utterly unable to defend himself or even resist, +because he was laughing, too. + +``Dog-gone it! Whit--I didn't--do it! I swear +it was Spears! Stop thumpin' me now--or I'll +get sore. . . . You hear me! It wasn't me, I tell +you. Cheese it!'' + +For all his protesting Mac received a good +thumping, and I doubted not in the least that he +deserved it. The wonder of the affair, however, +was the fact that no one appeared to know what +had made the Rube so furious. The porter would +not tell, and Mac was strangely reticent, though +his smile was one to make a fellow exceedingly +sure something out of the ordinary had befallen. +It was not until I was having breakfast in +Providence that I learned the true cause of Rube's +conduct, and Milly confided it to me, insisting +on strict confidence. + +``I promised not to tell,'' she said. ``Now you +promise you'll never tell.'' + +``Well, Connie,'' went on Milly, when I had +promised, ``it was the funniest thing yet, but it +was horrid of McCall. You see, the Rube had +upper seven and Nan had lower seven. Early +this morning, about daylight, Nan awoke very +thirsty and got up to get a drink. During her +absence, probably, but any way some time last +night, McCall changed the number on her +curtain, and when Nan came back to number +seven of course she almost got in the wrong +berth.'' + +``No wonder the Rube punched him!'' I declared. +``I wish we were safe home. Something'll +happen yet on this trip.'' + +I was faithful to my promise to Milly, but the +secret leaked out somewhere; perhaps Mac told +it, and before the game that day all the players +knew it. The Rube, having recovered his good +humor, minded it not in the least. He could not +have felt ill-will for any length of time. Everything +seemed to get back into smooth running +order, and the Honeymoon Trip bade fair to wind +up beautifully. + +But, somehow or other, and about something +unknown to the rest of us, the Rube and Nan +quarreled. It was their first quarrel. Milly and +I tried to patch it up but failed. + +We lost the first game to Providence and won +the second. The next day, a Saturday, was the +last game of the trip, and it was Rube's turn to +pitch. Several times during the first two days +the Rube and Nan about half made up their +quarrel, only in the end to fall deeper into it. +Then the last straw came in a foolish move on the +part of wilful Nan. She happened to meet Henderson, +her former admirer, and in a flash she +took up her flirtation with him where she had left +off. + +``Don't go to the game with him, Nan,'' I +pleaded. ``It's a silly thing for you to do. Of +course you don't mean anything, except to torment +Whit. But cut it out. The gang will make +him miserable and we'll lose the game. There's +no telling what might happen.'' + +``I'm supremely indifferent to what happens,'' +she replied, with a rebellious toss of her black +head. ``I hope Whit gets beaten.'' + +She went to the game with Henderson and sat +in the grand stand, and the boys spied them out +and told the Rube. He did not believe it at first, +but finally saw them, looked deeply hurt and +offended, and then grew angry. But the gong, +sounding at that moment, drew his attention to +his business of the day, to pitch. + +His work that day reminded me of the first +game he ever pitched for me, upon which occasion +Captain Spears got the best out of him by +making him angry. For several innings Providence +was helpless before his delivery. Then +something happened that showed me a crisis was +near. A wag of a fan yelled from the bleachers. + +``Honeymoon Rube!'' + +This cry was taken up by the delighted fans +and it rolled around the field. But the Rube +pitched on, harder than ever. Then the knowing +bleacherite who had started the cry changed it +somewhat. + +``Nanny's Rube!'' he yelled. + +This, too, went the rounds, and still the Rube, +though red in the face, preserved his temper and +his pitching control. All would have been well +if Bud Wiler, comedian of the Providence team, +had not hit upon a way to rattle Rube. + +``Nanny's Goat!'' he shouted from the coaching +lines. Every Providence player took it +up. + +The Rube was not proof against that. He +yelled so fiercely at them, and glared so furiously, +and towered so formidably, that they ceased for +the moment. Then he let drive with his fast +straight ball and hit the first Providence batter +in the ribs. His comrades had to help him to the +bench. The Rube hit the next batter on the leg, +and judging from the crack of the ball, I fancied +that player would walk lame for several days. +The Rube tried to hit the next batter and sent +him to first on balls. Thereafter it became a +dodging contest with honors about equal between +pitcher and batters. The Providence players +stormed and the bleachers roared. But I would +not take the Rube out and the game went on with +the Rube forcing in runs. + +With the score a tie, and three men on bases +one of the players on the bench again yelled +``Nanny's Goat!'' + +Straight as a string the Rube shot the ball at +this fellow and bounded after it. The crowd rose +in an uproar. The base runners began to score. +I left my bench and ran across the space, but not +in time to catch the Rube. I saw him hit two or +three of the Providence men. Then the policemen +got to him, and a real fight brought the big +audience into the stamping melee. Before the +Rube was collared I saw at least four blue-coats +on the grass. + +The game broke up, and the crowd spilled itself +in streams over the field. Excitement ran +high. I tried to force my way into the mass to +get at the Rube and the officers, but this was +impossible. I feared the Rube would be taken from +the officers and treated with violence, so I waited +with the surging crowd, endeavoring to get +nearer. Soon we were in the street, and it seemed +as if all the stands had emptied their yelling occupants. + +A trolley car came along down the street, +splitting the mass of people and driving them back. +A dozen policemen summarily bundled the Rube +upon the rear end of the car. Some of these +officers boarded the car, and some remained in +the street to beat off the vengeful fans. + +I saw some one thrust forward a frantic young +woman. The officers stopped her, then suddenly +helped her on the car, just as I started. I +recognized Nan. She gripped the Rube with both +hands and turned a white, fearful face upon the +angry crowd. + +The Rube stood in the grasp of his wife and +the policemen, and he looked like a ruffled lion. +He shook his big fist and bawled in far-reaching +voice: + +``I can lick you all!'' + +To my infinite relief, the trolley gathered +momentum and safely passed out of danger. The +last thing I made out was Nan pressing close to +the Rube's side. That moment saw their reconciliation +and my joy that it was the end of the +Rube's Honeymoon. + + + +THE RUBE'S WATERLOO + + +It was about the sixth inning that I suspected +the Rube of weakening. For that matter he had +not pitched anything resembling his usual brand +of baseball. But the Rube had developed into +such a wonder in the box that it took time for +his let-down to dawn upon me. Also it took a tip +from Raddy, who sat with me on the bench. + +``Con, the Rube isn't himself today,'' said +Radbourne. ``His mind's not on the game. He seems +hurried and flustered, too. If he doesn't explode +presently, I'm a dub at callin' the turn.'' + +Raddy was the best judge of a pitcher's condition, +physical or mental, in the Eastern League. +It was a Saturday and we were on the road and +finishing up a series with the Rochesters. Each +team had won and lost a game, and, as I was +climbing close to the leaders in the pennant race, +I wanted the third and deciding game of that +Rochester series. The usual big Saturday crowd +was in attendance, noisy, demonstrative and +exacting. + +In this sixth inning the first man up for +Rochester had flied to McCall. Then had come +the two plays significant of Rube's weakening. +He had hit one batter and walked another. This +was sufficient, considering the score was three +to one in our favor, to bring the audience to its +feet with a howling, stamping demand for runs. + +``Spears is wise all right,'' said Raddy. + +I watched the foxy old captain walk over to the +Rube and talk to him while he rested, a reassuring +hand on the pitcher's shoulder. The crowd yelled +its disapproval and Umpire Bates called out +sharply: + +``Spears, get back to the bag!'' + +``Now, Mister Umpire, ain't I hurrin' all I +can?'' queried Spears as he leisurely ambled back +to first. + +The Rube tossed a long, damp welt of hair back +from his big brow and nervously toed the rubber. +I noted that he seemed to forget the runners on +bases and delivered the ball without glancing at +either bag. Of course this resulted in a double +steal. The ball went wild--almost a wild pitch. + +``Steady up, old man,'' called Gregg between +the yells of the bleachers. He held his mitt square +over the plate for the Rube to pitch to. Again +the long twirler took his swing, and again the +ball went wild. Clancy had the Rube in the hole +now and the situation began to grow serious. +The Rube did not take half his usual deliberation, +and of the next two pitches one of them was a +ball and the other a strike by grace of the +umpire's generosity. Clancy rapped the next one, +an absurdly slow pitch for the Rube to use, and +both runners scored to the shrill tune of the happy +bleachers. + +I saw Spears shake his head and look toward +the bench. It was plain what that meant. + +``Raddy, I ought to take the Rube out,'' I said, +``but whom can I put in? You worked yesterday-- +Cairns' arm is sore. It's got to be nursed. +And Henderson, that ladies' man I just signed, is +not in uniform.'' + +``I'll go in,'' replied Raddy, instantly. + +``Not on your life.'' I had as hard a time +keeping Radbourne from overworking as I had in +getting enough work out of some other players. +``I guess I'll let the Rube take his medicine. I +hate to lose this game, but if we have to, we can +stand it. I'm curious, anyway, to see what's the +matter with the Rube. Maybe he'll settle down +presently.'' + +I made no sign that I had noticed Spears' +appeal to the bench. And my aggressive players, +no doubt seeing the situation as I saw it, sang out +their various calls of cheer to the Rube and of +defiance to their antagonists. Clancy stole off +first base so far that the Rube, catching +somebody's warning too late, made a balk and the +umpire sent the runner on to second. The Rube +now plainly showed painful evidences of being +rattled. + +He could not locate the plate without slowing +up and when he did that a Rochester player walloped +the ball. Pretty soon he pitched as if he +did not care, and but for the fast fielding of the +team behind him the Rochesters would have +scored more than the eight runs it got. When the +Rube came in to the bench I asked him if he was +sick and at first he said he was and then that +he was not. So I let him pitch the remaining +innings, as the game was lost anyhow, and we +walked off the field a badly beaten team. + +That night we had to hurry from the hotel to +catch a train for Worcester and we had dinner +in the dining-car. Several of my players' wives +had come over from Worcester to meet us, and +were in the dining-car when I entered. I observed +a pretty girl sitting at one of the tables with +my new pitcher, Henderson. + +``Say, Mac,'' I said to McCall, who was with +me, ``is Henderson married?'' + +``Naw, but he looks like he wanted to be. He +was in the grand stand today with that girl.'' + +``Who is she? Oh! a little peach!'' + +A second glance at Henderson's companion +brought this compliment from me involuntarily. + +``Con, you'll get it as bad as the rest of this +mushy bunch of ball players. We're all stuck on +that kid. But since Henderson came she's been +a frost to all of us. An' it's put the Rube in the +dumps.'' + +``Who's the girl?'' + +``That's Nan Brown. She lives in Worcester +an' is the craziest girl fan I ever seen. Flirt! +Well, she's got them all beat. Somebody introduced +the Rube to her. He has been mooney ever +since.'' + +That was enough to whet my curiosity, and I +favored Miss Brown with more than one glance +during dinner. When we returned to the parlor +car I took advantage of the opportunity and +remarked to Henderson that he might introduce +his manager. He complied, but not with amiable +grace. + +So I chatted with Nan Brown, and studied her. +She was a pretty, laughing, coquettish little minx +and quite baseball mad. I had met many girl +fans, but none so enthusiastic as Nan. But she +was wholesome and sincere, and I liked her. + +Before turning in I sat down beside the Rube. +He was very quiet and his face did not encourage +company. But that did not stop me. + +``Hello, Whit; have a smoke before you go to +bed?'' I asked cheerfully. + +He scarcely heard me and made no move to +take the proffered cigar. All at once it struck +me that the rustic simplicity which had characterized +him had vanished. + +``Whit, old fellow, what was wrong today?'' +I asked, quietly, with my hand on his arm. + +``Mr. Connelly, I want my release, I want to +go back to Rickettsville,'' he replied hurriedly. + +For the space of a few seconds I did some tall +thinking. The situation suddenly became grave. +I saw the pennant for the Worcesters fading, dimming. + +``You want to go home?'' I began slowly. +``Why, Whit, I can't keep you. I wouldn't try if +you didn't want to stay. But I'll tell you +confidentially, if you leave me at this stage I'm +ruined.'' + +``How's that?'' he inquired, keenly looking at +me. + +``Well, I can't win the pennant without you. If +I do win it there's a big bonus for me. I can +buy the house I want and get married this fall +if I capture the flag. You've met Milly. You can +imagine what your pitching means to me this +year. That's all.'' + +He averted his face and looked out of the window. +His big jaw quivered. + +``If it's that--why, I'll stay, I reckon,'' he +said huskily. + +That moment bound Whit Hurtle and Frank +Connelly into a far closer relation than the one +between player and manager. I sat silent for a +while, listening to the drowsy talk of the other +players and the rush and roar of the train as it +sped on into the night. + +``Thank you, old chap,'' I replied. ``It wouldn't +have been like you to throw me down at this +stage. Whit, you're in trouble?'' + +``Yes.'' + +``Can I help you--in any way?''' + +``I reckon not.'' + +``Don't be too sure of that. I'm a pretty wise +guy, if I do say it myself. I might be able to do +as much for you as you're going to do for me.'' + +The sight of his face convinced me that I had +taken a wrong tack. It also showed me how deep +Whit's trouble really was. I bade him good +night and went to my berth, where sleep did not +soon visit me. A saucy, sparkling-eyed woman +barred Whit Hurtle's baseball career at its +threshold. + +Women are just as fatal to ball players as to +men in any other walk of life. I had seen a strong +athlete grow palsied just at a scornful slight. It's +a great world, and the women run it. So I lay +awake racking my brains to outwit a pretty +disorganizer; and I plotted for her sake. Married, +she would be out of mischief. For Whit's sake, +for Milly's sake, for mine, all of which collectively +meant for the sake of the pennant, this would be +the solution of the problem. + +I decided to take Milly into my confidence, and +finally on the strength of that I got to sleep. In + +he morning I went to my hotel, had breakfast, +attended to my mail, and then boarded a car to go +out to Milly's house. She was waiting for me on +the porch, dressed as I liked to see her, in blue +and white, and she wore violets that matched the +color of her eyes. + +``Hello, Connie. I haven't seen a morning +paper, but I know from your face that you lost +the Rochester series,'' said Milly, with a gay +laugh. + +``I guess yes. The Rube blew up, and if we +don't play a pretty smooth game, young lady, +he'll never come down.'' + +Then I told her. + +``Why, Connie, I knew long ago. Haven't you +seen the change in him before this?'' + +``What change?'' I asked blankly. + +``You are a man. Well, he was a gawky, +slouchy, shy farmer boy when he came to us. Of +course the city life and popularity began to +influence him. Then he met Nan. She made the +Rube a worshipper. I first noticed a change in +his clothes. He blossomed out in a new suit, +white negligee, neat tie and a stylish straw hat. +Then it was evident he was making heroic struggles +to overcome his awkwardness. It was plain +he was studying and copying the other boys. +He's wonderfully improved, but still shy. He'll +always be shy. Connie, Whit's a fine fellow, too +good for Nan Brown.'' + +``But, Milly,'' I interrupted, ``the Rube's hard +hit. Why is he too good for her?'' + +``Nan is a natural-born flirt,'' Milly replied. +``She can't help it. I'm afraid Whit has a slim +chance. Nan may not see deep enough to learn +his fine qualities. I fancy Nan tired quickly of +him, though the one time I saw them together +she appeared to like him very well. This new +pitcher of yours, Henderson, is a handsome fellow +and smooth. Whit is losing to him. Nan likes +flash, flattery, excitement.'' + +``McCall told me the Rube had been down in +the mouth ever since Henderson joined the team. +Milly, I don't like Henderson a whole lot. He's +not in the Rube's class as a pitcher. What am I +going to do? Lose the pennant and a big slice +of purse money just for a pretty little flirt?'' + +``Oh, Connie, it's not so bad as that. Whit will +come around all right.'' + +``He won't unless we can pull some wires. I've +got to help him win Nan Brown. What do you +think of that for a manager's job? I guess maybe +winning pennants doesn't call for diplomatic +genius and cunning! But I'll hand them a few +tricks before I lose. My first move will be to give +Henderson his release. + +I left Milly, as always, once more able to make +light of discouragements and difficulties. + +Monday I gave Henderson his unconditional +release. He celebrated the occasion by verifying +certain rumors I had heard from other managers. +He got drunk. But he did not leave town, and I +heard that he was negotiating with Providence +for a place on that team. + +Radbourne pitched one of his gilt-edged games +that afternoon against Hartford and we won. +And Milly sat in the grand stand, having contrived +by cleverness to get a seat next to Nan +Brown. Milly and I were playing a vastly deeper +game than baseball--a game with hearts. But we +were playing it with honest motive, for the good +of all concerned, we believed, and on the square. +I sneaked a look now and then up into the grand +stand. Milly and Nan appeared to be getting on +famously. It was certain that Nan was flushed +and excited, no doubt consciously proud of being +seen with my affianced. After the game I chanced +to meet them on their way out. Milly winked at +me, which was her sign that all was working +beautifully. + +I hunted up the Rube and bundled him off to +the hotel to take dinner with me. At first he was +glum, but after a while he brightened up somewhat +to my persistent cheer and friendliness. +Then we went out on the hotel balcony to +smoke, and there I made my play. + +``Whit, I'm pulling a stroke for you. Now listen +and don't be offended. I know what's put you off +your feed, because I was the same way when Milly +had me guessing. You've lost your head over +Nan Brown. That's not so terrible, though I +daresay you think it's a catastrophe. Because +you've quit. You've shown a yellow streak. +You've lain down. + +``My boy, that isn't the way to win a girl. +You've got to scrap. Milly told me yesterday +how she had watched your love affairs with Nan, +and how she thought you had given up just when +things might have come your way. Nan is a little +flirt, but she's all right. What's more, she was +getting fond of you. Nan is meanest to the man +she likes best. The way to handle her, Whit, is +to master her. Play high and mighty. Get +tragical. Then grab her up in your arms. I tell +you, Whit, it'll all come your way if you only +keep your nerve. I'm your friend and so is Milly. +We're going out to her house presently--and Nan +will be there.'' + +The Rube drew a long, deep breath and held out +his hand. I sensed another stage in the evolution +of Whit Hurtle. + +``I reckon I've taken baseball coachin','' he said +presently, ``an' I don't see why I can't take some +other kind. I'm only a rube, an' things come hard +for me, but I'm a-learnin'.'' + +It was about dark when we arrived at the house. + +``Hello, Connie. You're late. Good evening, +Mr. Hurtle. Come right in. You've met Miss +Nan Brown? Oh, of course; how stupid of me!'' + +It was a trying moment for Milly and me. A +little pallor showed under the Rube's tan, but he +was more composed than I had expected. Nan +got up from the piano. She was all in white and +deliciously pretty. She gave a quick, glad start +of surprise. What a relief that was to my +troubled mind! Everything had depended upon +a real honest liking for Whit, and she had it. + +More than once I had been proud of Milly's +cleverness, but this night as hostess and an +accomplice she won my everlasting admiration. +She contrived to give the impression that Whit +was a frequent visitor at her home and very +welcome. She brought out his best points, and in her +skillful hands he lost embarrassment and awkwardness. +Before the evening was over Nan regarded +Whit with different eyes, and she never +dreamed that everything had not come about +naturally. Then Milly somehow got me out on +the porch, leaving Nan and Whit together. + +``Milly, you're a marvel, the best and sweetest +ever,'' I whispered. ``We're going to win. It's +a cinch.'' + +``Well, Connie, not that--exactly,'' she +whispered back demurely. ``But it looks hopeful.'' + +I could not help hearing what was said in the +parlor. + +``Now I can roast you,'' Nan was saying, archly. +She had switched back to her favorite baseball +vernacular. ``You pitched a swell game last +Saturday in Rochester, didn't you? Not! You +had no steam, no control, and you couldn't have +curved a saucer.'' + +``Nan, what could you expect?'' was the cool +reply. ``You sat up in the stand with your handsome +friend. I reckon I couldn't pitch. I just +gave the game away.'' + +``Whit!--Whit!----'' + +Then I whispered to Milly that it might be +discreet for us to move a little way from the vicinity. + +It was on the second day afterward that I got +a chance to talk to Nan. She reached the grounds +early, before Milly arrived, and I found her in the +grand stand. The Rube was down on the card to +pitch and when he started to warm up Nan said +confidently that he would shut out Hartford that +afternoon. + +``I'm sorry, Nan, but you're way off. We'd do +well to win at all, let alone get a shutout.'' + +``You're a fine manager!'' she retorted, hotly. +``Why won't we win?'' + +``Well, the Rube's not in good form. The +Rube----'' + +``Stop calling him that horrid name.'' + +``Whit's not in shape. He's not right. He's +ill or something is wrong. I'm worried sick about +him.'' + +``Why--Mr. Connelly!'' exclaimed Nan. She +turned quickly toward me. + +I crowded on full canvas of gloom to my already +long face. + +``I 'm serious, Nan. The lad's off, somehow. +He's in magnificent physical trim, but he can't +keep his mind on the game. He has lost his head. +I've talked with him, reasoned with him, all to no +good. He only goes down deeper in the dumps. +Something is terribly wrong with him, and if he +doesn't brace, I'll have to release----'' + +Miss Nan Brown suddenly lost a little of her +rich bloom. ``Oh! you wouldn't--you couldn't +release him!'' + +``I'll have to if he doesn't brace. It means a +lot to me, Nan, for of course I can't win the pennant +this year without Whit being in shape. But +I believe I wouldn't mind the loss of that any +more than to see him fall down. The boy is a +magnificent pitcher. If he can only be brought +around he'll go to the big league next year and +develop into one of the greatest pitchers the game +has ever produced. But somehow or other he has +lost heart. He's quit. And I've done my best +for him. He's beyond me now. What a shame +it is! For he's the making of such a splendid +man outside of baseball. Milly thinks the world +of him. Well, well; there are disappointments-- +we can't help them. There goes the gong. I must +leave you. Nan, I'll bet you a box of candy Whit +loses today. Is it a go?'' + +``It is,'' replied Nan, with fire in her eyes. +``You go to Whit Hurtle and tell him I said if +he wins today's game I'll kiss him!'' + +I nearly broke my neck over benches and bats +getting to Whit with that message. He gulped +once. + +Then he tightened his belt and shut out Hartford +with two scratch singles. It was a great +exhibition of pitching. I had no means to tell +whether or not the Rube got his reward that +night, but I was so happy that I hugged Milly +within an inch of her life. + +But it turned out that I had been a little +premature in my elation. In two days the Rube went +down into the depths again, this time clear to +China, and Nan was sitting in the grand stand +with Henderson. The Rube lost his next game, +pitching like a schoolboy scared out of his wits. +Henderson followed Nan like a shadow, so that I +had no chance to talk to her. The Rube lost his +next game and then another. We were pushed +out of second place. + +If we kept up that losing streak a little longer, +our hopes for the pennant were gone. I had +begun to despair of the Rube. For some occult +reason he scarcely spoke to me. Nan flirted worse +than ever. It seemed to me she flaunted her +conquest of Henderson in poor Whit's face. + +The Providence ball team came to town and +promptly signed Henderson and announced him +for Saturday's game. Cairns won the first of the +series and Radbourne lost the second. It was +Rube's turn to pitch the Saturday game and I +resolved to make one more effort to put the love- +sick swain in something like his old fettle. So I +called upon Nan. + +She was surprised to see me, but received me +graciously. I fancied her face was not quite so +glowing as usual. I came bluntly out with my +mission. She tried to freeze me but I would not +freeze. I was out to win or lose and not to be +lightly laughed aside or coldly denied. I played +to make her angry, knowing the real truth of her +feelings would show under stress. + +For once in my life I became a knocker and said +some unpleasant things--albeit they were true-- +about Henderson. She championed Henderson +royally, and when, as a last card, I compared +Whit's fine record with Henderson's, not only as +a ball player, but as a man, particularly in his +reverence for women, she flashed at me: + +``What do you know about it? Mr. Henderson +asked me to marry him. Can a man do more to +show his respect? Your friend never so much +as hinted such honorable intentions. What's +more--he insulted me!'' The blaze in Nan's black +eyes softened with a film of tears. She looked +hurt. Her pride had encountered a fall. + +``Oh, no, Nan, Whit couldn't insult a lady,'' I +protested. + +``Couldn't he? That's all you know about him. +You know I--I promised to kiss him if he beat +Hartford that day. So when he came I--I did. +Then the big savage began to rave and he grabbed +me up in his arms. He smothered me; almost +crushed the life out of me. He frightened me +terribly. When I got away from him--the monster +stood there and coolly said I belonged to him. I +ran out of the room and wouldn't see him any +more. At first I might have forgiven him if he +had apologized--said he was sorry, but never a +word. Now I never will forgive him.'' + +I had to make a strenuous effort to conceal my +agitation. The Rube had most carefully taken +my fool advice in the matter of wooing a woman. + +When I had got a hold upon myself, I turned +to Nan white-hot with eloquence. Now I was talking +not wholly for myself or the pennant, but for +this boy and girl who were at odds in that +strangest game of life--love. + +What I said I never knew, but Nan lost her +resentment, and then her scorn and indifference. +Slowly she thawed and warmed to my reason, +praise, whatever it was, and when I stopped she +was again the radiant bewildering Nan of old. + +``Take another message to Whit for me,'' she +said, audaciously. ``Tell him I adore ball players, +especially pitchers. Tell him I'm going to +the game today to choose the best one. If he loses +the game----'' + +She left the sentence unfinished. In my state +of mind I doubted not in the least that she meant +to marry the pitcher who won the game, and so +I told the Rube. He made one wild upheaval of +his arms and shoulders, like an erupting volcano, +which proved to me that he believed it, too. + +When I got to the bench that afternoon I was +tired. There was a big crowd to see the game; +the weather was perfect; Milly sat up in the box +and waved her score card at me; Raddy and +Spears declared we had the game; the Rube +stalked to and fro like an implacable Indian chief +--but I was not happy in mind. Calamity +breathed in the very air. + +The game began. McCall beat out a bunt; Ashwell +sacrificed and Stringer laced one of his beautiful +triples against the fence. Then he scored +on a high fly. Two runs! Worcester trotted out +into the field. The Rube was white with determination; +he had the speed of a bullet and perfect +control of his jump ball and drop. But Providence +hit and had the luck. Ashwell fumbled, +Gregg threw wild. Providence tied the score. + +The game progressed, growing more and more +of a nightmare to me. It was not Worcester's +day. The umpire could not see straight; the boys +grumbled and fought among themselves; Spears +roasted the umpire and was sent to the bench; +Bogart tripped, hurting his sore ankle, and had +to be taken out. Henderson's slow, easy ball +baffled my players, and when he used speed they +lined it straight at a Providence fielder. + +In the sixth, after a desperate rally, we crowded +the bases with only one out. Then Mullaney's +hard rap to left, seemingly good for three bases, +was pulled down by Stone with one hand. It was +a wonderful catch and he doubled up a runner at +second. Again in the seventh we had a chance +to score, only to fail on another double play, this +time by the infield. + +When the Providence players were at bat their +luck not only held good but trebled and +quadrupled. The little Texas-league hits dropped +safely just out of reach of the infielders. My boys +had an off day in fielding. What horror that of +all days in a season this should be the one for +them to make errors! + +But they were game, and the Rube was the +gamest of all. He did not seem to know what +hard luck was, or discouragement, or poor support. +He kept everlastingly hammering the ball +at those lucky Providence hitters. What speed he +had! The ball streaked in, and somebody would +shut his eyes and make a safety. But the Rube +pitched, on, tireless, irresistibly, hopeful, not +forgetting to call a word of cheer to his fielders. + +It was one of those strange games that could +not be bettered by any labor or daring or skill. +I saw it was lost from the second inning, yet so +deeply was I concerned, so tantalizingly did the +plays reel themselves off, that I groveled there +on the bench unable to abide by my baseball sense. + +The ninth inning proved beyond a shadow of +doubt how baseball fate, in common with other +fates, loved to balance the chances, to lift up one, +then the other, to lend a deceitful hope only to +dash it away. + +Providence had almost three times enough to +win. The team let up in that inning or grew over- +confident or careless, and before we knew what +had happened some scratch hits, and bases on +balls, and errors, gave us three runs and left two +runners on bases. The disgusted bleachers came +out of their gloom and began to whistle and +thump. The Rube hit safely, sending another run +over the plate. McCall worked his old trick, +beating out a slow bunt. + +Bases full, three runs to tie! With Ashwell up +and one out, the noise in the bleachers mounted +to a high-pitched, shrill, continuous sound. I got +up and yelled with all my might and could not +hear my voice. Ashwell was a dangerous man in +a pinch. The game was not lost yet. A hit, +anything to get Ash to first--and then Stringer! + +Ash laughed at Henderson, taunted him, shook +his bat at him and dared him to put one over. +Henderson did not stand under fire. The ball he +pitched had no steam. Ash cracked it--square on +the line into the shortstop's hands. The bleachers +ceased yelling. + +Then Stringer strode grimly to the plate. It +was a hundred to one, in that instance, that he +would lose the ball. The bleachers let out one +deafening roar, then hushed. I would rather have +had Stringer at the bat than any other player in +the world, and I thought of the Rube and Nan +and Milly--and hope would not die. + +Stringer swung mightily on the first pitch and +struck the ball with a sharp, solid bing! It shot +toward center, low, level, exceedingly swift, and +like a dark streak went straight into the fielder's +hands. A rod to right or left would have made +it a home run. The crowd strangled a victorious +yell. I came out of my trance, for the game was +over and lost. It was the Rube's Waterloo. + +I hurried him into the dressing room and kept +close to him. He looked like a man who had lost +the one thing worth while in his life. I turned a +deaf ear to my players, to everybody, and hustled +the Rube out and to the hotel. I wanted to be +near him that night. + +To my amaze we met Milly and Nan as we +entered the lobby. Milly wore a sweet, +sympathetic smile. Nan shone more radiant than ever. +I simply stared. It was Milly who got us all +through the corridor into the parlor. I heard Nan +talking. + +``Whit, you pitched a bad game but--'' there +was the old teasing, arch, coquettishness--``but +you are the best pitcher!'' + +``Nan!'' + +``Yes!'' + + + +BREAKING INTO FAST COMPANY + + +They may say baseball is the same in the minor +leagues that it is in the big leagues, but any old +ball player or manager knows better. Where the +difference comes in, however, is in the greater +excellence and unity of the major players, a speed, +a daring, a finish that can be acquired only in +competition with one another. + +I thought of this when I led my party into +Morrisey's private box in the grand stand of the +Chicago American League grounds. We had +come to see the Rube's break into fast company. +My great pitcher, Whittaker Hurtle, the Rube, +as we called him, had won the Eastern League +Pennant for me that season, and Morrisey, the +Chicago magnate, had bought him. Milly, my +affianced, was with me, looking as happy as she +was pretty, and she was chaperoned by her +mother, Mrs. Nelson. + +With me, also, were two veterans of my team, +McCall and Spears, who lived in Chicago, and +who would have traveled a few miles to see the +Rube pitch. And the other member of my party +was Mrs. Hurtle, the Rube's wife, as saucy and +as sparkling-eyed as when she had been Nan +Brown. Today she wore a new tailor-made gown, +new bonnet, new gloves--she said she had decorated +herself in a manner befitting the wife of a +major league pitcher. + +Morrisey's box was very comfortable, and, as +I was pleased to note, so situated that we had a +fine view of the field and stands, and yet were +comparatively secluded. The bleachers were filling. +Some of the Chicago players were on the +field tossing and batting balls; the Rube, +however, had not yet appeared. + +A moment later a metallic sound was heard on +the stairs leading up into the box. I knew it for +baseball spiked shoes clanking on the wood. + +The Rube, looking enormous in his uniform, +stalked into the box, knocking over two chairs as +he entered. He carried a fielder's glove in one +huge freckled hand, and a big black bat in the +other. + +Nan, with much dignity and a very manifest +pride, introduced him to Mrs. Nelson. + +There was a little chatting, and then, upon the +arrival of Manager Morrisey, we men retired to +the back of the box to talk baseball. + +Chicago was in fourth place in the league race, +and had a fighting chance to beat Detroit out for +the third position. Philadelphia was scheduled +for that day, and Philadelphia had a great team. +It was leading the race, and almost beyond all +question would land the flag. In truth, only one +more victory was needed to clinch the pennant. +The team had three games to play in Chicago and +it was to wind up the season with three in +Washington. Six games to play and only one +imperatively important to win! But baseball is +uncertain, and until the Philadelphians won that game +they would be a band of fiends. + +``Well, Whit, this is where you break in,'' I +said. ``Now, tip us straight. You've had more +than a week's rest. How's that arm?'' + +``Grand, Con, grand!'' replied the Rube with +his frank smile. ``I was a little anxious till I +warmed up. But say! I've got more up my sleeve +today than I ever had.'' + +``That'll do for me,'' said Morrisey, rubbing +his hands. ``I'll spring something on these +swelled Quakers today. Now, Connelly, give Hurtle +one of your old talks--the last one--and then +I'll ring the gong.'' + +I added some words of encouragement, not +forgetting my old ruse to incite the Rube by rousing +his temper. And then, as the gong rang and the +Rube was departing, Nan stepped forward for +her say. There was a little white under the tan on +her cheek, and her eyes had a darkling flash. + +``Whit, it's a magnificent sight--that beautiful +green field and the stands. What a crowd of +fans! Why, I never saw a real baseball crowd +before. There are twenty thousand here. And +there's a difference in the feeling. It's sharper +--new to me. It's big league baseball. Not a soul +in that crowd ever heard of you, but, I believe, +tomorrow the whole baseball world will have heard +of you. Mr. Morrisey knows. I saw it in his +face. Captain Spears knows. Connie knows. I +know.'' + +Then she lifted her face and, pulling him down +within reach, she kissed him. Nan took her husband's +work in dead earnest; she gloried in it, +and perhaps she had as much to do with making +him a great pitcher as any of us. + +The Rube left the box, and I found a seat +between Nan and Milly. The field was a splendid +sight. Those bleachers made me glow with managerial +satisfaction. On the field both teams +pranced and danced and bounced around in practice. + +In spite of the absolutely last degree of egotism +manifested by the Philadelphia players, I could +not but admire such a splendid body of men. + +``So these are the champions of last season and +of this season, too,'' commented Milly. ``I don't +wonder. How swiftly and cleanly they play! +They appear not to exert themselves, yet they +always get the ball in perfect time. It all reminds +me of--of the rhythm of music. And that champion +batter and runner--that Lane in center-- +isn't he just beautiful? He walks and runs like a +blue-ribbon winner at the horse show. I tell you +one thing, Connie, these Quakers are on dress +parade.'' + +``Oh, these Quakers hate themselves, I don't +think!'' retorted Nan. Being a rabid girl-fan it +was, of course, impossible for Nan to speak baseball +convictions or gossip without characteristic +baseball slang. ``Stuck on themselves! I never +saw the like in my life. That fellow Lane is so +swelled that he can't get down off his toes. But +he's a wonder, I must admit that. They're a +bunch of stars. Easy, fast, trained--they're +machines, and I'll bet they're Indians to fight. I can +see it sticking out all over them. This will +certainly be some game with Whit handing up that +jump ball of his to this gang of champs. But, +Connie, I'll go you Whit beats them.'' + +I laughed and refused to gamble. + +The gong rang; the crowd seemed to hum and +rustle softly to quiet attention; Umpire McClung +called the names of the batteries; then the +familiar ``Play!'' + +There was the usual applause from the grand +stand and welcome cheers from the bleachers. +The Rube was the last player to go out. +Morrisey was a manager who always played to the +stands, and no doubt he held the Rube back for +effect. If so, he ought to have been gratified. +That moment reminded me of my own team and +audience upon the occasion of the Rube's debut. +It was the same only here it happened in the +big league, before a championship team and +twenty thousand fans. + +The roar that went up from the bleachers might +well have scared an unseasoned pitcher out of his +wits. And the Quakers lined up before their +bench and gazed at this newcomer who had the +nerve to walk out there to the box. Cogswell +stood on the coaching line, looked at the Rube and +then held up both arms and turned toward the +Chicago bench as if to ask Morrisey: ``Where +did you get that?'' + +Nan, quick as a flash to catch a point, leaned +over the box-rail and looked at the champions +with fire in her eye. ``Oh, you just wait! wait!'' +she bit out between her teeth. + +Certain it was that there was no one who knew +the Rube as well as I; and I knew beyond the +shadow of a doubt that the hour before me would +see brightening of a great star pitcher on the big +league horizon. It was bound to be a full hour +for me. I had much reason to be grateful to Whit +Hurtle. He had pulled my team out of a rut and +won me the pennant, and the five thousand dollars +I got for his release bought the little cottage on +the hill for Milly and me. Then there was my +pride in having developed him. And all that I +needed to calm me, settle me down into assurance +and keen criticism of the game, was to see the +Rube pitch a few balls with his old incomparable +speed and control. + +Berne, first batter for the Quakers, walked up +to the plate. He was another Billy Hamilton, +built like a wedge. I saw him laugh at the long +pitcher. + +Whit swayed back, coiled and uncoiled. Something +thin, white, glancing, shot at Berne. He +ducked, escaping the ball by a smaller margin +than appeared good for his confidence. He spoke +low to the Rube, and what he said was probably +not flavored with the milk of friendly sweetness. + +``Wild! What'd you look for?'' called out +Cogswell scornfully. ``He's from the woods!'' + +The Rube swung his enormously long arm, took +an enormous stride toward third base, and pitched +again. It was one of his queer deliveries. The +ball cut the plate. + +``Ho! Ho!'' yelled the Quakers. + +The Rube's next one was his out curve. It +broke toward the corner of the plate and would +have been a strike had not Berne popped it up. + +Callopy, the second hitter, faced the Rube, and +he, too, after the manner of ball players, made +some remark meant only for the Rube's ears. +Callopy was a famous waiter. He drove more +pitchers mad with his implacable patience than +any hitter in the league. The first one of the +Rube's he waited on crossed the in-corner; the +second crossed the out-corner and the third was +Rube's wide, slow, tantalizing ``stitch-ball,'' as +we call it, for the reason that it came so slow a +batter could count the stitches. I believe Callopy +waited on that curve, decided to hit it, changed +his mind and waited some more, and finally the +ball maddened him and he had to poke at it, the +result being a weak grounder. + +Then the graceful, powerful Lane, champion +batter, champion base runner, stepped to the +plate. How a baseball crowd, any crowd, anywhere, +loves the champion batter! The ovation +Lane received made me wonder, with this impressive +reception in a hostile camp, what could be +the manner of it on his home field? Any boy ball- +player from the lots seeing Lane knock the dirt +out of his spikes and step into position would have +known he was a 400 hitter. + +I was curious to see what the Rube would pitch +Lane. It must have been a new and significant +moment for Hurtle. Some pitchers actually wilt +when facing a hitter of Lane's reputation. But +he, on his baseball side, was peculiarly unemotional. +Undoubtedly he could get furious, but that +only increased his effectiveness. To my amazement +the Rube pitched Lane a little easy ball, not +in any sense like his floater or stitch-ball, but just +a little toss that any youngster might have tossed. +Of all possible balls, Lane was not expecting such +as that, and he let it go. If the nerve of it amazed +me, what did it not do to Lane? I saw his face +go fiery red. The grand stand murmured; let out +one short yelp of pleasure; the Quaker players +chaffed Lane. + +The pitch was a strike. I was gripping my +chair now, and for the next pitch I prophesied the +Rube's wonderful jump ball, which he had not yet +used. He swung long, and at the end of his swing +seemed to jerk tensely. I scarcely saw the ball. +It had marvelous speed. Lane did not offer to hit +it, and it was a strike. He looked at the Rube, +then at Cogswell. That veteran appeared amused. +The bleachers, happy and surprised to be able to +yell at Lane, yelled heartily. + +Again I took it upon myself to interpret the +Rube's pitching mind. He had another ball that +he had not used, a drop, an unhittable drop. I +thought he would use that next. He did, and +though Lane reached it with the bat, the hit was +a feeble one. He had been fooled and the side +was out. + +Poole, the best of the Quaker's pitching staff, +walked out to the slab. He was a left-hander, +and Chicago, having so many players who batted +left-handed, always found a southpaw a hard +nut to crack. Cogswell, field manager and +captain of the Quakers, kicked up the dust around +first base and yelled to his men: ``Git in the +game!'' + +Staats hit Poole's speed ball into deep short +and was out; Mitchell flew out to Berne; Rand +grounded to second. + +While the teams again changed sides the fans +cheered, and then indulged in the first stretch of +the game. I calculated that they would be stretching +their necks presently, trying to keep track of +the Rube's work. Nan leaned on the railing +absorbed in her own hope and faith. Milly chattered +about this and that, people in the boxes, and +the chances of the game. + +My own interest, while it did not wholly +preclude the fortunes of the Chicago players at the +bat, was mostly concerned with the Rube's fortunes +in the field. + +In the Rube's half inning he retired Bannister +and Blandy on feeble infield grounders, and +worked Cogswell into hitting a wide curve high +in the air. + +Poole meant to win for the Quakers if his good +arm and cunning did not fail him, and his pitching +was masterly. McCloskey fanned, Hutchinson +fouled out, Brewster got a short safe fly just +out of reach, and Hoffner hit to second, forcing +Brewster. + +With Dugan up for the Quakers in the third +inning, Cogswell and Bannister, from the coaching +lines, began to talk to the Rube. My ears, +keen from long practice, caught some of the +remarks in spite of the noisy bleachers. + +``Say, busher, you 've lasted longer'n we +expected, but you don't know it!'' + +``Gol darn you city ball tossers! Now you jest +let me alone!'' + +``We're comin' through the rye!'' + +``My top-heavy rustic friend, you'll need an +airship presently, when you go up!'' + +All the badinage was good-natured, which was +sure proof that the Quakers had not arrived at +anything like real appreciation of the Rube. They +were accustomed to observe the trying out of +many youngsters, of whom ninety-nine out of a +hundred failed to make good. + +Dugan chopped at three strikes and slammed +his bat down. Hucker hit a slow fly to Hoffer. +Three men out on five pitched balls! Cogswell, +old war horse that he was, stood a full moment +and watched the Rube as he walked in to the +bench. An idea had penetrated Cogswell's brain, +and I would have given something to know what +it was. Cogswell was a great baseball general, +and though he had a preference for matured ball- +players he could, when pressed, see the quality +in a youngster. He picked up his mitt and took +his position at first with a gruff word to his +players. + +Rand for Chicago opened with a hit, and the +bleachers, ready to strike fire, began to cheer and +stamp. When McCloskey, in an attempt to sacrifice, +beat out his bunt the crowd roared. Rand, + +eing slow on his feet, had not attempted to make +third on the play. Hutchinson sacrificed, neatly +advancing the runners. Then the bleachers +played the long rolling drum of clattering feet +with shrill whistling accompaniment. Brewster +batted a wicked ground ball to Blandy. He dove +into the dust, came up with the ball, and feinting +to throw home he wheeled and shot the ball to +Cogswell, who in turn shot it to the plate to head +Rand. Runner and ball got there apparently +together, but Umpire McClung's decision went +against Rand. It was fine, fast work, but how +the bleachers stormed at McClung! + +``Rob-b-ber!'' + +Again the head of the Quakers' formidable list +was up. I knew from the way that Cogswell +paced the coaching box that the word had gone +out to look the Rube over seriously. There were +possibilities even in rubes. + +Berne carefully stepped into the batter's box, +as if he wanted to be certain to the breadth of a +hair how close he was to the plate. He was there +this time to watch the Rube pitch, to work him +out, to see what was what. He crouched low, and +it would have been extremely hard to guess what +he was up to. His great play, however, was his +ability to dump the ball and beat out the throw +to first. It developed presently, that this was +now his intention and that the Rube knew it and +pitched him the one ball which is almost impossible +to bunt--a high incurve, over the inside corner. +There was no mistaking the Rube's magnificent +control. True as a plumb line he shot up +the ball--once, twice, and Berne fouled both--two +strikes. Grudgingly he waited on the next, but it, +too, was over the corner, and Berne went out on +strikes. The great crowd did not, of course, grasp +the finesse of the play, but Berne had struck out +--that was enough for them. + +Callopy, the famous spiker, who had put many +a player out of the game for weeks at a time, +strode into the batter's place, and he, too, was not +at the moment making any funny remarks. The +Rube delivered a ball that all but hit Callopy fair +on the head. It was the second narrow escape +for him, and the roar he let out showed how he +resented being threatened with a little of his own +medicine. As might have been expected, and +very likely as the Rube intended, Callopy hit the +next ball, a sweeping curve, up over the infield. + +I was trying to see all the intricate details of +the motive and action on the field, and it was not +easy to watch several players at once. But while +Berne and Callopy were having their troubles +with the Rube, I kept the tail of my eye on +Cogswell. He was prowling up and down the third- +base line. + +He was missing no signs, no indications, no +probabilities, no possibilities. But he was in +doubt. Like a hawk he was watching the Rube, +and, as well, the crafty batters. The inning might +not tell the truth as to the Rube's luck, though it +would test his control. The Rube's speed and +curves, without any head work, would have made +him a pitcher of no mean ability, but was this +remarkable placing of balls just accident? That +was the question. + +When Berne walked to the bench I distinctly +heard him say: ``Come out of it, you dubs. I say +you can't work him or wait him. He's peggin' +'em out of a gun!'' + +Several of the Quakers were standing out from +the bench, all intent on the Rube. He had stirred +them up. First it was humor; then ridicule, +curiosity, suspicion, doubt. And I knew it would grow +to wonder and certainty, then fierce attack from +both tongues and bats, and lastly--for ball players +are generous--unstinted admiration. + +Somehow, not only the first climaxes of a game +but the decisions, the convictions, the reputations +of pitchers and fielders evolve around the great +hitter. Plain it was that the vast throng of +spectators, eager to believe in a new find, wild to +welcome a new star, yet loath to trust to their own +impulsive judgments, held themselves in check +until once more the great Lane had faced the +Rube. + +The field grew tolerably quiet just then. The +Rube did not exert himself. The critical stage +had no concern for him. He pitched Lane a high +curve, over the plate, but in close, a ball meant +to be hit and a ball hard to hit safely. Lane knew +that as well as any hitter in the world, so he let +two of the curves go by--two strikes. Again the +Rube relentlessly gave him the same ball; and +Lane, hitting viciously, spitefully, because he did +not want to hit that kind of a ball, sent up a fly +that Rand easily captured. + +``Oh, I don't know! Pretty fair, I guess!'' +yelled a tenor-voiced fan; and he struck the key- +note. And the bleachers rose to their feet and +gave the Rube the rousing cheer of the brotherhood +of fans. + +Hoffer walked to first on a base on balls. +Sweeney advanced him. The Rube sent up a giant +fly to Callopy. Then Staats hit safely, scoring +the first run of the game. Hoffer crossed the +plate amid vociferous applause. Mitchell ended +the inning with a fly to Blandy. + +What a change had come over the spirit of that +Quaker aggregation! It was something to make +a man thrill with admiration and, if he happened +to favor Chicago, to fire all his fighting blood. +The players poured upon the Rube a continuous +stream of scathing abuse. They would have made +a raging devil of a mild-mannered clergyman. +Some of them were skilled in caustic wit, most of +them were possessed of forked tongues; and Cogswell, +he of a thousand baseball battles, had a +genius for inflaming anyone he tormented. This +was mostly beyond the ken of the audience, and +behind the back of the umpire, but it was perfectly +plain to me. The Quakers were trying to rattle +the Rube, a trick of the game as fair for one side +as for the other. I sat there tight in my seat, +grimly glorying in the way the Rube refused to +be disturbed. But the lion in him was rampant. +Fortunately, it was his strange gift to pitch better +the angrier he got; and the more the Quakers +flayed him, the more he let himself out to their +crushing humiliation. + +The innings swiftly passed to the eighth with +Chicago failing to score again, with Philadelphia +failing to score at all. One scratch hit and a single, +gifts to the weak end of the batting list, were +all the lank pitcher allowed them. Long since the +bleachers had crowned the Rube. He was theirs +and they were his; and their voices had the +peculiar strangled hoarseness due to over-exertion. +The grand stand, slower to understand and +approve, arrived later; but it got there about the +seventh, and ladies' gloves and men's hats were +sacrificed. + +In the eighth the Quakers reluctantly yielded +their meed of praise, showing it by a cessation of +their savage wordy attacks on the Rube. It was +a kind of sullen respect, wrung from the bosom of +great foes. + +Then the ninth inning was at hand. As the +sides changed I remembered to look at the +feminine group in our box. Milly was in a most +beautiful glow of happiness and excitement. Nan +sat rigid, leaning over the rail, her face white +and drawn, and she kept saying in a low voice: +``Will it never end? Will it never end?'' Mrs. +Nelson stared wearily. + +It was the Quakers' last stand. They faced it +as a team that had won many a game in the ninth +with two men out. Dugan could do nothing with +the Rube's unhittable drop, for a drop curve was +his weakness, and he struck out. Hucker hit to +Hoffer, who fumbled, making the first error of +the game. Poole dumped the ball, as evidently +the Rube desired, for he handed up a straight one, +but the bunt rolled teasingly and the Rube, being +big and tall, failed to field it in time. + +Suddenly the whole field grew quiet. For the +first time Cogswell's coaching was clearly heard. + +``One out! Take a lead! Take a lead! Go +through this time. Go through!'' + +Could it be possible, I wondered, that after such +a wonderful exhibition of pitching the Rube would +lose out in the ninth? + +There were two Quakers on base, one out, and +two of the best hitters in the league on deck, with a +chance of Lane getting up. + +``Oh! Oh! Oh!'' moaned Nan. + +I put my hand on hers. ``Don't quit, Nan. +You'll never forgive yourself if you quit. Take +it from me, Whit will pull out of this hole!'' + +What a hole that was for the Rube on the day +of his break into fast company! I measured it +by his remarkable deliberation. He took a long +time to get ready to pitch to Berne, and when he +let drive it was as if he had been trifling all before +in that game. I could think of no way to figure +it except that when the ball left him there was +scarcely any appreciable interval of time before +it cracked in Sweeney's mitt. It was the Rube's +drop, which I believed unhittable. Berne let it +go by, shaking his head as McClung called it a +strike. Another followed, which Berne chopped +at vainly. Then with the same upheaval of his +giant frame, the same flinging of long arms and +lunging forward, the Rube delivered a third drop. +And Berne failed to hit it. + +The voiceless bleachers stamped on the benches +and the grand stand likewise thundered. + +Callopy showed his craft by stepping back and +lining Rube's high pitch to left. Hoffer leaped +across and plunged down, getting his gloved hand +in front of the ball. The hit was safe, but Hoffer's +valiant effort saved a tie score. + +Lane up! Three men on bases! Two out! + +Not improbably there were many thousand +spectators of that thrilling moment who pitied +the Rube for the fate which placed Lane at the +bat then. But I was not one of them. Nevertheless +my throat was clogged, my mouth dry, and +my ears full of bells. I could have done something +terrible to Hurtle for his deliberation, yet I knew +he was proving himself what I had always tried +to train him to be. + +Then he swung, stepped out, and threw his body +with the ball. This was his rarely used pitch, his +last resort, his fast rise ball that jumped up a +little at the plate. Lane struck under it. How +significant on the instant to see old Cogswell's +hands go up! Again the Rube pitched, and this +time Lane watched the ball go by. Two strikes! + +That whole audience leaped to its feet, +whispering, yelling, screaming, roaring, bawling. + +The Rube received the ball from Sweeney and +quick as lightning he sped it plateward. The great +Lane struck out! The game was over--Chicago, +1; Philadelphia, 0. + +In that whirling moment when the crowd went +mad and Milly was hugging me, and Nan pounding +holes in my hat, I had a queer sort of blankness, +a section of time when my sensations were +deadlocked. + +``Oh! Connie, look!'' cried Nan. I saw Lane +and Cogswell warmly shaking hands with the +Rube. Then the hungry clamoring fans tumbled +upon the field and swarmed about the players. + +Wereupon Nan kissed me and Milly, and then +kissed Mrs. Nelson. In that radiant moment Nan +was all sweetness. + +``It is the Rube's break into fast company,'' she +said. + + + +THE KNOCKER + + +``Yes, Carroll, I got my notice. Maybe it's no +surprise to you. And there's one more thing I want +to say. You're `it' on this team. You're the +topnotch catcher in the Western League and one +of the best ball players in the game--but you're +a knocker!'' + +Madge Ellston heard young Sheldon speak. +She saw the flash in his gray eyes and the heat +of his bronzed face as he looked intently at the +big catcher. + +``Fade away, sonny. Back to the bush-league +for yours!'' replied Carroll, derisively. ``You're +not fast enough for Kansas City. You look pretty +good in a uniform and you're swift on your feet, +but you can't hit. You've got a glass arm and +you run bases like an ostrich trying to side. That +notice was coming to you. Go learn the game!'' + +Then a crowd of players trooped noisily out of +the hotel lobby and swept Sheldon and Carroll +down the porch steps toward the waiting omnibus. + +Madge's uncle owned the Kansas City club. +She had lived most of her nineteen years in a +baseball atmosphere, but accustomed as she was +to baseball talk and the peculiar banterings and +bickerings of the players, there were times when +it seemed all Greek. If a player got his ``notice'' +it meant he would be released in ten days. A +``knocker'' was a ball player who spoke ill of +his fellow players. This scrap of conversation, +however, had an unusual interest because Carroll +had paid court to her for a year, and Sheldon, +coming to the team that spring, had fallen +desperately in love with her. She liked Sheldon +pretty well, but Carroll fascinated her. She began +to wonder if there were bad feelings between the +rivals--to compare them--to get away from herself +and judge them impersonally. + +When Pat Donahue, the veteran manager of +the team came out, Madge greeted him with a +smile. She had always gotten on famously with +Pat, notwithstanding her imperious desire to +handle the managerial reins herself upon occasions. +Pat beamed all over his round ruddy face. + +``Miss Madge, you weren't to the park yesterday +an' we lost without our pretty mascot. We +shure needed you. Denver's playin' at a fast +clip.'' + +``I'm coming out today,'' replied Miss Ellston, +thoughtfully. ``Pat, what's a knocker?'' + +``Now, Miss Madge, are you askin' me that +after I've been coachin' you in baseball for +years?'' questioned Pat, in distress. + +``I know what a knocker is, as everybody else +does. But I want to know the real meaning, the +inside-ball of it, to use your favorite saying.'' + +Studying her grave face with shrewd eyes Donahue +slowly lost his smile. + +``The inside-ball of it, eh? Come, let's sit over +here a bit--the sun's shure warm today. . . . +Miss Madge, a knocker is the strangest man +known in the game, the hardest to deal with an' +what every baseball manager hates most.'' + +Donahue told her that he believed the term +``knocker'' came originally from baseball; that in +general it typified the player who strengthened +his own standing by belittling the ability of his +team-mates, and by enlarging upon his own +superior qualities. But there were many phases of +this peculiar type. Some players were natural +born knockers; others acquired the name in their +later years in the game when younger men threatened +to win their places. Some of the best +players ever produced by baseball had the habit +in its most violent form. There were players +of ridiculously poor ability who held their jobs +on the strength of this one trait. It was a +mystery how they misled magnates and managers +alike; how for months they held their places, +weakening a team, often keeping a good team +down in the race; all from sheer bold suggestion +of their own worth and other players' worthlessness. +Strangest of all was the knockers' power +to disorganize; to engender a bad spirit between +management and team and among the players. +The team which was without one of the parasites +of the game generally stood well up in the race +for the pennant, though there had been championship +teams noted for great knockers as well +as great players. + +``It's shure strange, Miss Madge,'' said Pat in +conclusion, shaking his gray head. ``I've played +hundreds of knockers, an' released them, too. +Knockers always get it in the end, but they go on +foolin' me and workin' me just the same as if I +was a youngster with my first team. They're +part an' parcel of the game.'' + +``Do you like these men off the field--outside +of baseball, I mean?'' + +``No, I shure don't, an' I never seen one yet +that wasn't the same off the field as he was on.'' + +``Thank you, Pat. I think I understand now. +And--oh, yes, there's another thing I want to +ask you. What's the matter with Billie Sheldon? +Uncle George said he was falling off in his game. +Then I've read the papers. Billie started out +well in the spring.'' + +``Didn't he? I was sure thinkin' I had a find +in Billie. Well, he's lost his nerve. He's in a +bad slump. It's worried me for days. I'm goin' +to release Billie. The team needs a shake-up. +That's where Billie gets the worst of it, for he's +really the makin' of a star; but he's slumped, an' +now knockin' has made him let down. There, Miss +Madge, that's an example of what I've just been +tellin' you. An' you can see that a manager has +his troubles. These hulkin' athletes are a lot of +spoiled babies an' I often get sick of my job.'' + +That afternoon Miss Ellston was in a brown +study all the way out to the baseball park. She +arrived rather earlier than usual to find the grand- +stand empty. The Denver team had just come +upon the field, and the Kansas City players were +practising batting at the left of the diamond. +Madge walked down the aisle of the grand stand +and out along the reporters' boxes. She asked +one of the youngsters on the field to tell Mr. +Sheldon that she would like to speak with him a +moment. + +Billie eagerly hurried from the players' bench +with a look of surprise and expectancy on his sun- +tanned face. Madge experienced for the first +time a sudden sense of shyness at his coming. His +lithe form and his nimble step somehow gave +her a pleasure that seemed old yet was new. +When he neared her, and, lifting his cap, +spoke her name, the shade of gloom in his +eyes and lines of trouble on his face dispelled her +confusion. + +``Billie, Pat tells me he's given you ten days' +notice,'' she said. + +``It's true.'' + +``What's wrong with you, Billie?'' + +``Oh, I've struck a bad streak--can't hit or +throw.'' + +``Are you a quitter?'' + +``No, I'm not,'' he answered quickly, flushing +a dark red. + +``You started off this spring with a rush. You +played brilliantly and for a while led the team +in batting. Uncle George thought so well of you. +Then came this spell of bad form. But, Billie, it's +only a slump; you can brace.'' + +``I don't know,'' he replied, despondently. +``Awhile back I got my mind off the game. Then +--people who don't like me have taken advantage +of my slump to----'' + +``To knock,'' interrupted Miss Ellston. + +``I'm not saying that,'' he said, looking away +from her. + +``But I'm saying it. See here, Billie Sheldon, +my uncle owns this team and Pat Donahue is manager. +I think they both like me a little. Now I +don't want to see you lose your place. Perhaps----'' + +``Madge, that's fine of you--but I think--I guess +it'd be best for me to leave Kansas City.'' + +``Why? '' + +``You know,'' he said huskily. ``I've lost my +head--I'm in love--I can't think of baseball-- +I'm crazy about you.'' + +Miss Ellston's sweet face grew rosy, clear to +the tips of her ears. + +``Billie Sheldon,'' she replied, spiritedly. +``You're talking nonsense. Even if you were +were that way, it'd be no reason to play poor +ball. Don't throw the game, as Pat would say. +Make a brace! Get up on your toes! Tear +things! Rip the boards off the fence! Don't +quit!'' + +She exhausted her vocabulary of baseball +language if not her enthusiasm, and paused in blushing +confusion. + +``Madge!'' + +``Will you brace up?'' + +``Will I--will I!'' he exclaimed, breathlessly. + +Madge murmured a hurried good-bye and, turning +away, went up the stairs. Her uncle's private +box was upon the top of the grand stand and she +reached it in a somewhat bewildered state of +mind. She had a confused sense of having +appeared to encourage Billie, and did not know +whether she felt happy or guilty. The flame in +his eyes had warmed all her blood. Then, as she +glanced over the railing to see the powerful Burns +Carroll, there rose in her breast a panic at strange +variance with her other feelings. + +Many times had Madge Ellston viewed the field +and stands and the outlying country from this +high vantage point; but never with the same +mingling emotions, nor had the sunshine ever +been so golden, the woods and meadows so green, +the diamond so smooth and velvety, the whole +scene so gaily bright. + +Denver had always been a good drawing card, +and having won the first game of the present +series, bade fair to draw a record attendance. +The long lines of bleachers, already packed with +the familiar mottled crowd, sent forth a merry, +rattling hum. Soon a steady stream of well- +dressed men and women poured in the gates and +up the grand-stand stairs. The soft murmur of +many voices in light conversation and laughter +filled the air. The peanut venders and score-card +sellers kept up their insistent shrill cries. The +baseball park was alive now and restless; the +atmosphere seemed charged with freedom and +pleasure. The players romped like skittish colts, +the fans shrieked their witticisms--all sound and +movements suggested play. + +Madge Ellston was somehow relieved to see +her uncle sitting in one of the lower boxes. During +this game she wanted to be alone, and she +believed she would be, for the President of the +League and directors of the Kansas City team +were with her uncle. When the bell rang to call +the Denver team in from practice the stands could +hold no more, and the roped-off side lines were +filling up with noisy men and boys. From her +seat Madge could see right down upon the +players' bench, and when she caught both Sheldon +and Carroll gazing upward she drew back +with sharply contrasted thrills. + +Then the bell rang again, the bleachers rolled +out their welcoming acclaim, and play was called +with Kansas City at the bat. + +Right off the reel Hunt hit a short fly safely +over second. The ten thousand spectators burst +into a roar. A good start liberated applause and +marked the feeling for the day. + +Madge was surprised and glad to see Billie +Sheldon start next for the plate. All season, until +lately, he had been the second batter. During his +slump he had been relegated to the last place on +the batting list. Perhaps he had asked Pat to try +him once more at the top. The bleachers voiced +their unstinted appreciation of this return, showing +that Billie still had a strong hold on their +hearts. + +As for Madge, her breast heaved and she had +difficulty in breathing. This was going to be a +hard game for her. The intensity of her desire +to see Billie brace up to his old form amazed her. +And Carroll's rude words beat thick in her ears. +Never before had Billie appeared so instinct with +life, so intent and strung as when he faced Keene, +the Denver pitcher. That worthy tied himself up +in a knot, and then, unlimbering a long arm, +delivered the brand new ball. + +Billie seemed to leap forward and throw his +bat at it. There was a sharp ringing crack--and +the ball was like a white string marvelously stretching +out over the players, over the green field +beyond, and then, sailing, soaring, over the right- +field fence. For a moment the stands, even the +bleachers, were stone quiet. No player had ever +hit a ball over that fence. It had been deemed +impossible, as was attested to by the many painted +``ads'' offering prizes for such a feat. Suddenly +the far end of the bleachers exploded and the +swelling roar rolled up to engulf the grand stand +in thunder. Billie ran round the bases to applause +never before vented on that field. But he gave no +sign that it affected him; he did not even doff +his cap. White-faced and stern, he hurried to the +bench, where Pat fell all over him and many of +the players grasped his hands. + +Up in her box Madge was crushing her score- +card and whispering: ``Oh! Billie, I could hug +you for that!'' + +Two runs on two pitched balls! That was an +opening to stir an exacting audience to the highest +pitch of enthusiasm. The Denver manager +peremptorily called Keene off the diamond and +sent in Steele, a south-paw, who had always +bothered Pat's left-handed hitters. That move +showed his astute judgment, for Steele struck out +McReady and retired Curtis and Mahew on easy +chances. + +It was Dalgren's turn to pitch and though he +had shown promise in several games he had not +yet been tried out on a team of Denver's strength. +The bleachers gave him a good cheering as he +walked into the box, but for all that they whistled +their wonder at Pat's assurance in putting him +against the Cowboys in an important game. + +The lad was visibly nervous and the hard-hitting +and loud-coaching Denver players went after +him as if they meant to drive him out of the +game. Crane stung one to left center for a base, +Moody was out on a liner to short, almost doubling +up Crane; the fleet-footed Bluett bunted and beat +the throw to first; Langly drove to left for what +seemed a three-bagger, but Curtis, after a hard +run, caught the ball almost off the left-field +bleachers. Crane and Bluett advanced a base on the +throw-in. Then Kane batted up a high foul-fly. +Burns Carroll, the Kansas City catcher, had the +reputation of being a fiend for chasing foul flies, +and he dashed at this one with a speed that +threatened a hard fall over the players' bench or +a collision with the fence. Carroll caught the ball +and crashed against the grand stand, but leaped +back with an agility that showed that if there was +any harm done it had not been to him. + +Thus the sharp inning ended with a magnificent +play. It electrified the spectators into a fierce +energy of applause. With one accord, by baseball +instinct, the stands and bleachers and roped- +in-sidelines realized it was to be a game of games +and they answered to the stimulus with a savage +enthusiasm that inspired ballplayers to great +plays. + +In the first half of the second inning, Steele's +will to do and his arm to execute were very like +his name. Kansas City could not score. In their +half the Denver team made one run by clean +hitting. + +Then the closely fought advantage see-sawed +from one team to the other. It was not a pitchers' +battle, though both men worked to the limit of +skill and endurance. They were hit hard. Dazzling +plays kept the score down and the innings +short. Over the fields hung the portent of +something to come, every player, every spectator felt +the subtle baseball chance; each inning seemed +to lead closer and more thrillingly up to the +climax. But at the end of the seventh, with the +score tied six and six, with daring steals, hard +hits and splendid plays, enough to have made +memorable several games, it seemed that the great +portentous moment was still in abeyance. + +The head of the batting list for Kansas City was +up. Hunt caught the first pitched ball squarely +on the end of his bat. It was a mighty drive and +as the ball soared and soared over the center-field +Hunt raced down the base line, and the winged- +footed Crane sped outward, the bleachers split +their throats. The hit looked good for a home +run, but Crane leaped up and caught the ball in +his gloved hand. The sudden silence and then +the long groan which racked the bleachers was +greater tribute to Crane's play than any applause. + +Billie Sheldon then faced Steele. The fans +roared hoarsely, for Billie had hit safely three +times out of four. Steele used his curve ball, but +he could not get the batter to go after it. When +he had wasted three balls, the never-despairing +bleachers howled: ``Now, Billie, in your groove! +Sting the next one!'' But Billie waited. One +strike! Two strikes! Steele cut the plate. That +was a test which proved Sheldon's caliber. + +With seven innings of exciting play passed, +with both teams on edge, with the bleachers wild +and the grand stands keyed up to the breaking +point, with everything making deliberation almost +impossible, Billie Sheldon had remorselessly +waited for three balls and two strikes. + +``Now! . . . Now! . . . Now!'' shrieked the +bleachers. + +Steele had not tired nor lost his cunning. With +hands before him he grimly studied Billie, then +whirling hard to get more weight into his motion, +he threw the ball. + +Billie swung perfectly and cut a curving liner +between the first baseman and the base. Like a +shot it skipped over the grass out along the foul- +line into right field. Amid tremendous uproar +Billie stretched the hit into a triple, and when he +got up out of the dust after his slide into third +the noise seemed to be the crashing down of the +bleachers. It died out with the choking gurgling +yell of the most leather-lunged fan. + +``O-o-o-o-you-Billie-e!'' + +McReady marched up and promptly hit a long +fly to the redoubtable Crane. Billie crouched in +a sprinter's position with his eye on the graceful +fielder, waiting confidently for the ball to drop. +As if there had not already been sufficient heart- +rending moments, the chance that governed baseball +meted out this play; one of the keenest, most +trying known to the game. Players waited, +spectators waited, and the instant of that dropping +ball was interminably long. Everybody knew +Crane would catch it; everybody thought of the +wonderful throwing arm that had made him +famous. Was it possible for Billie Sheldon to +beat the throw to the plate? + +Crane made the catch and got the ball away at +the same instant Sheldon leaped from the base +and dashed for home. Then all eyes were on the +ball. It seemed incredible that a ball thrown by +human strength could speed plateward so low, so +straight, so swift. But it lost its force and slanted +down to bound into the catcher's hands just as +Billie slid over the plate. + +By the time the bleachers had stopped stamping +and bawling, Curtis ended the inning with a difficult +grounder to the infield. + +Once more the Kansas City players took the +field and Burns Carroll sang out in his lusty voice: +``Keep lively, boys! Play hard! Dig 'em up an' +get 'em!'' Indeed the big catcher was the main- +stay of the home team. The bulk of the work fell +upon his shoulders. Dalgren was wild and kept +his catcher continually blocking low pitches and +wide curves and poorly controlled high fast balls. +But they were all alike to Carroll. Despite his +weight, he was as nimble on his feet as a goat, +and if he once got his hands on the ball he never +missed it. It was his encouragement that steadied +Dalgren; his judgment of hitters that carried the +young pitcher through dangerous places; his +lightning swift grasp of points that directed the +machine-like work of his team. + +In this inning Carroll exhibited another of his +demon chases after a foul fly; he threw the base- +stealing Crane out at second, and by a remarkable +leap and stop of McReady's throw, he blocked a +runner who would have tied the score. + +The Cowboys blanked their opponents in the +first half of the ninth, and trotted in for their +turn needing one run to tie, two runs to win. + +There had scarcely been a breathing spell for +the onlookers in this rapid-fire game. Every +inning had held them, one moment breathless, the +next wildly clamorous, and another waiting in +numb fear. What did these last few moments +hold in store? The only answer to that was the +dogged plugging optimism of the Denver players. +To listen to them, to watch them, was to gather +the impression that baseball fortune always favored +them in the end. + +``Only three more, Dal. Steady boys, it's our +game,'' rolled out Carroll's deep bass. How +virile he was! What a tower of strength to the +weakening pitcher! + +But valiantly as Dalgren tried to respond, he +failed. The grind--the strain had been too severe. +When he finally did locate the plate Bluett hit +safely. Langley bunted along the base line and +beat the ball. + +A blank, dead quiet settled down over the +bleachers and stands. Something fearful threatened. +What might not come to pass, even at the +last moment of this nerve-racking game? There +was a runner on first and a runner on second. +That was bad. Exceedingly bad was it that these +runners were on base with nobody out. Worst +of all was the fact that Kane was up. Kane, the +best bunter, the fastest man to first, the hardest +hitter in the league! That he would fail to +advance those two runners was scarcely worth +consideration. Once advanced, a fly to the outfield, +a scratch, anything almost, would tie the score. +So this was the climax presaged so many times +earlier in the game. Dalgren seemed to wilt under +it. + +Kane swung his ash viciously and called on +Dalgren to put one over. Dalgren looked in +toward the bench as if he wanted and expected to +be taken out. But Pat Donahue made no sign. +Pat had trained many a pitcher by forcing him +to take his medicine. Then Carroll, mask under +his arm, rolling his big hand in his mitt, sauntered +down to the pitcher's box. The sharp order of +the umpire in no wise disconcerted him. He said +something to Dalgren, vehemently nodding his +head the while. Players and audience alike +supposed he was trying to put a little heart into +Dalgren, and liked him the better, notwithstanding +the opposition to the umpire. + +Carroll sauntered back to his position. He +adjusted his breast protector, and put on his mask, +deliberately taking his time. Then he stepped +behind the plate, and after signing for the pitch, he +slowly moved his right hand up to his mask. + +Dalgren wound up, took his swing, and let drive. +Even as he delivered the ball Carroll bounded +away from his position, flinging off the mask as +he jumped. For a single fleeting instant, the +catcher's position was vacated. But that instant +was long enough to make the audience gasp. Kane +bunted beautifully down the third base line, and +there Carroll stood, fifteen feet from the plate, +agile as a huge monkey. He whipped the ball to +Mahew at third. Mahew wheeled quick as thought +and lined the ball to second. Sheldon came tearing +for the bag, caught the ball on the run, and +with a violent stop and wrench threw it like a +bullet to first base. Fast as Kane was, the ball +beat him ten feet. A triple play! + +The players of both teams cheered, but the +audience, slower to grasp the complex and +intricate points, needed a long moment to realize +what had happened. They needed another to +divine that Carroll had anticipated Kane's intention +to bunt, had left his position as the ball was +pitched, had planned all, risked all, played all on +Kane's sure eye; and so he had retired the side +and won the game by creating and executing the +rarest play in baseball. + +Then the audience rose in a body to greet the +great catcher. What a hoarse thundering roar +shook the stands and waved in a blast over the +field! Carroll stood bowing his acknowledgment, +and then swaggered a little with the sun shining +on his handsome heated face. Like a conqueror +conscious of full blown power he stalked away to +the clubhouse. + +Madge Ellston came out of her trance and +viewed the ragged score-card, her torn parasol, +her battered gloves and flying hair, her generally +disheveled state with a little start of dismay, but +when she got into the thick and press of the moving +crowd she found all the women more or less +disheveled. And they seemed all the prettier and +friendlier for that. It was a happy crowd and +voices were conspicuously hoarse. + +When Madge entered the hotel parlor that +evening she found her uncle with guests and +among them was Burns Carroll. The presence +of the handsome giant affected Madge more +impellingly than ever before, yet in some +inexplicably different way. She found herself +trembling; she sensed a crisis in her feelings for this +man and it frightened her. She became conscious +suddenly that she had always been afraid of him. +Watching Carroll receive the congratulations of +many of those present, she saw that he dominated +them as he had her. His magnetism was over- +powering; his great stature seemed to fill the +room; his easy careless assurance emanated from +superior strength. When he spoke lightly of the +game, of Crane's marvelous catch, of Dalgren's +pitching and of his own triple play, it seemed these +looming features retreated in perspective--somehow +lost their vital significance because he slighted +them. + +In the light of Carroll's illuminating talk, in the +remembrance of Sheldon's bitter denunciation, in +the knowledge of Pat Donahue's estimate of a +peculiar type of ball-player, Madge Ellston found +herself judging the man--bravely trying to resist +his charm, to be fair to him and to herself. + +Carroll soon made his way to her side and +greeted her with his old familiar manner of +possession. However irritating it might be to Madge +when alone, now it held her bound. + +Carroll possessed the elemental attributes of a +conqueror. When with him Madge whimsically +feared that he would snatch her up in his arms +and carry her bodily off, as the warriors of old +did with the women they wanted. But she began +to believe that the fascination he exercised upon +her was merely physical. That gave her pause. +Not only was Burns Carroll on trial, but also a +very foolish fluttering little moth--herself. It +was time enough, however, to be stern with herself +after she had tried him. + +``Wasn't that a splendid catch of Crane's +today?'' she asked. + +``A lucky stab! Crane has a habit of running +round like an ostrich and sticking out a hand to +catch a ball. It's a grand-stand play. Why, a +good outfielder would have been waiting under +that fly.'' + +``Dalgren did fine work in the box, don't you +think?'' + +``Oh, the kid's all right with an old head back +of the plate. He's wild, though, and will never +make good in fast company. I won his game today. +He wouldn't have lasted an inning without +me. It was dead wrong for Pat to pitch him. +Dalgren simply can't pitch and he hasn't sand +enough to learn.'' + +A hot retort trembled upon Madge Ellston's +lips, but she withheld it and quietly watched +Carroll. How complacent he was, how utterly self- +contained! + +``And Billie Sheldon--wasn't it good to see him +brace? What hitting! . . . That home +run!'' + +``Sheldon flashed up today. That's the worst +of such players. This talk of his slump is all rot. +When he joined the team he made some lucky hits +and the papers lauded him as a comer, but he +soon got down to his real form. Why, to break +into a game now and then, to shut his eyes and +hit a couple on the nose--that's not baseball. +Pat's given him ten days' notice, and his release +will be a good move for the team. Sheldon's not +fast enough for this league.'' + +``I'm sorry. He seemed so promising,'' replied +Madge. ``I liked Billy--pretty well.'' + +``Yes, that was evident,'' said Carroll, firing +up. ``I never could understand what you saw in +him. Why, Sheldon's no good. He----'' + +Madge turned a white face that silenced +Carroll. She excused herself and returned to the +parlor, where she had last seen her uncle. Not +finding him there, she went into the long corridor +and met Sheldon, Dalgren and two more of the +players. Madge congratulated the young pitcher +and the other players on their brilliant work; and +they, not to be outdone, gallantly attributed the +day's victory to her presence at the game. Then, +without knowing in the least how it came about, +she presently found herself alone with Billy, and +they were strolling into the music-room. + +``Madge, did I brace up?'' + +The girl risked one quick look at him. How +boyish he seemed, how eager! What an altogether +different Billie! But was the difference +all in him! Somehow, despite a conscious shyness +in the moment she felt natural and free, without +the uncertainty and restraint that had always +troubled her while with him. + +``Oh, Billie, that glorious home run!'' + +``Madge, wasn't that hit a dandy? How I made +it is a mystery, but the bat felt like a feather. I +thought of you. Tell me-- what did you think +when I hit that ball over the fence?'' + +``Billie, I'll never, never tell you.'' + +``Yes--please--I want to know. Didn't you +think something--nice of me?'' + +The pink spots in Madge's cheeks widened to +crimson flames. + +``Billie, are you still--crazy about me? Now, +don't come so close. Can't you behave yourself? +And don't break my fingers with you terrible +baseball hands. . . . Well, when you made that +hit I just collapsed and I said----'' + +``Say it! Say it!'' implored Billie. + +She lowered her face and then bravely raised +it. + +``I said, `Billie, I could hug you for that!' . . . +Billie, let me go! Oh, you mustn't!--please!'' + +Quite a little while afterward Madge remembered +to tell Billie that she had been seeking her +uncle. They met him and Pat Donahue, coming +out of the parlor. + +``Where have you been all evening?'' demanded +Mr. Ellston. + +``Shure it looks as if she's signed a new +manager,'' said Pat, his shrewd eyes twinkling. + +The soft glow in Madge's cheeks deepened into +tell-tale scarlet; Billie resembled a schoolboy +stricken in guilt. + +``Aha! so that's it?'' queried her uncle. + +``Ellston,'' said Pat. ``Billie's home-run drive +today recalled his notice an' if I don't miss guess +it won him another game--the best game in life.'' + +``By George!'' exclaimed Mr. Ellston. ``I was +afraid it was Carroll!'' + +He led Madge away and Pat followed with +Billie. + +``Shure, it was good to see you brace, Billie,'' +said the manager, with a kindly hand on the young +man's arm. ``I'm tickled to death. That ten +days' notice doesn't go. See? I've had to shake +up the team but your job is good. I released +McReady outright an' traded Carroll to Denver +for a catcher and a fielder. Some of the directors +hollered murder, an' I expect the fans will roar, +but I'm running this team, I'll have harmony +among my players. Carroll is a great catcher, +but he's a knocker.'' + + + +THE WINNING BALL + + +One day in July our Rochester club, leader in +the Eastern League, had returned to the hotel +after winning a double-header from the Syracuse +club. For some occult reason there was to be a +lay-off next day and then on the following another +double-header. These double-headers we hated +next to exhibition games. Still a lay-off for +twenty-four hours, at that stage of the race, was a +Godsend, and we received the news with exclamations +of pleasure. + +After dinner we were all sitting and smoking +comfortably in front of the hotel when our +manager, Merritt, came hurriedly out of the lobby. +It struck me that he appeared a little flustered. + +``Say, you fellars,'' he said brusquely. ``Pack +your suits and be ready for the bus at seven- +thirty.'' + +For a moment there was a blank, ominous +silence, while we assimilated the meaning of his +terse speech. + +``I've got a good thing on for tomorrow,'' +continued the manager. ``Sixty per cent gate +receipts if we win. That Guelph team is hot stuff, +though.'' + +``Guelph!'' exclaimed some of the players +suspiciously. ``Where's Guelph?'' + +``It's in Canada. We'll take the night express +an' get there tomorrow in time for the game. +An' we'll hev to hustle.'' + +Upon Merritt then rained a multiplicity of +excuses. Gillinger was not well, and ought to have +that day's rest. Snead's eyes would profit by a +lay-off. Deerfoot Browning was leading the +league in base running, and as his legs were all +bruised and scraped by sliding, a manager who +was not an idiot would have a care of such +valuable runmakers for his team. Lake had ``Charley- +horse.'' Hathaway's arm was sore. Bane's +stomach threatened gastritis. Spike Doran's +finger needed a chance to heal. I was stale, and +the other players, three pitchers, swore their +arms should be in the hospital. + +``Cut it out!'' said Merritt, getting exasperated. +``You'd all lay down on me--now, wouldn't +you? Well, listen to this: McDougal pitched today; +he doesn't go. Blake works Friday, he +doesn't go. But the rest of you puffed-up, high- +salaried stiffs pack your grips quick. See? It'll +cost any fresh fellar fifty for missin' the train.'' + +So that was how eleven of the Rochester team +found themselves moodily boarding a Pullman en +route for Buffalo and Canada. We went to bed +early and arose late. + +Guelph lay somewhere in the interior of +Canada, and we did not expect to get there until 1 +o'clock. + +As it turned out, the train was late; we had to +dress hurriedly in the smoking room, pack our +citizen clothes in our grips and leave the train +to go direct to the ball grounds without time for +lunch. + +It was a tired, dusty-eyed, peevish crowd of +ball players that climbed into a waiting bus at the +little station. + +We had never heard of Guelph; we did not care +anything about Rube baseball teams. Baseball +was not play to us; it was the hardest kind of +work, and of all things an exhibition game was an +abomination. + +The Guelph players, strapping lads, met us with +every mark of respect and courtesy and escorted +us to the field with a brass band that was loud in +welcome, if not harmonious in tune. + +Some 500 men and boys trotted curiously along +with us, for all the world as if the bus were a +circus parade cage filled with striped tigers. +What a rustic, motley crowd massed about in and +on that ball ground. There must have been 10,000. + +The audience was strange to us. The Indians, +half-breeds, French-Canadians; the huge, hulking, +bearded farmers or traders, or trappers, whatever +they were, were new to our baseball experience. + +The players themselves, however, earned the +largest share of our attention. By the time they +had practiced a few moments we looked at Merritt +and Merritt looked at us. + +These long, powerful, big-handed lads evidently +did not know the difference between lacrosse and +baseball; but they were quick as cats on their feet, +and they scooped up the ball in a way wonderful +to see. And throw!--it made a professional's +heart swell just to see them line the ball across +the diamond. + +``Lord! what whips these lads have!'' exclaimed +Merritt. ``Hope we're not up against it. +If this team should beat us we wouldn't draw a +handful at Toronto. We can't afford to be beaten. +Jump around and cinch the game quick. If we +get in a bad place, I'll sneak in the `rabbit.' '' + +The ``rabbit'' was a baseball similar in appearance +to the ordinary league ball; under its horse- +hide cover, however, it was remarkably different. + +An ingenious fan, a friend of Merritt, had +removed the covers from a number of league balls +and sewed them on rubber balls of his own making. +They could not be distinguished from the +regular article, not even by an experienced +professional--until they were hit. Then! The fact +that after every bounce one of these rubber balls +bounded swifter and higher had given it the name +of the ``rabbit.'' + +Many a game had the ``rabbit'' won for us at +critical stages. Of course it was against the rules +of the league, and of course every player in the +league knew about it; still, when it was judiciously +and cleverly brought into a close game, the ``rabbit'' +would be in play, and very probably over +the fence, before the opposing captain could learn +of it, let alone appeal to the umpire. + +``Fellars, look at that guy who's goin' to pitch,'' +suddenly spoke up one of the team. + +Many as were the country players whom we +seasoned and traveled professionals had run +across, this twirler outclassed them for remarkable +appearance. Moreover, what put an entirely +different tinge to our momentary humor was the +discovery that he was as wild as a March hare +and could throw a ball so fast that it resembled a +pea shot from a boy's air gun. + +Deerfoot led our batting list, and after the first +pitched ball, which he did not see, and the second, +which ticked his shirt as it shot past, he turned to +us with an expression that made us groan inwardly. + +When Deerfoot looked that way it meant the +pitcher was dangerous. Deerfoot made no effort +to swing at the next ball, and was promptly called +out on strikes. + +I was second at bat, and went up with some +reluctance. I happened to be leading the league in +both long distance and safe hitting, and I doted +on speed. But having stopped many mean in- +shoots with various parts of my anatomy, I was +rather squeamish about facing backwoods yaps +who had no control. + +When I had watched a couple of his pitches, +which the umpire called strikes, I gave him credit +for as much speed as Rusie. These balls were as +straight as a string, singularly without curve, +jump, or variation of any kind. I lined the next +one so hard at the shortstop that it cracked like +a pistol as it struck his hands and whirled him +half off his feet. Still he hung to the ball and +gave opportunity for the first crash of applause. + +``Boys, he's a trifle wild,'' I said to my team- +mates, ``but he has the most beautiful ball to hit +you ever saw. I don't believe he uses a curve, +and when we once time that speed we'll kill it.'' + +Next inning, after old man Hathaway had +baffled the Canadians with his wide, tantalizing +curves, my predictions began to be verified. Snead +rapped one high and far to deep right field. To +our infinite surprise, however, the right fielder +ran with fleetness that made our own Deerfoot +seem slow, and he got under the ball and caught +it. + +Doran sent a sizzling grasscutter down toward +left. The lanky third baseman darted over, dived +down, and, coming up with the ball, exhibited the +power of a throwing arm that made as all green +with envy. + +Then, when the catcher chased a foul fly +somewhere back in the crowd and caught it, we began +to take notice. + +``Lucky stabs!'' said Merritt cheerfully. ``They +can't keep that up. We'll drive him to the woods +next time.'' + +But they did keep it up; moreover, they became +more brilliant as the game progressed. What +with Hathaway's heady pitching we soon disposed +of them when at the bat; our turns, however, +owing to the wonderful fielding of these backwoodsmen, +were also fruitless. + +Merritt, with his mind ever on the slice of gate +money coming if we won, began to fidget and fume +and find fault. + +``You're a swell lot of champions, now, ain't +you?'' he observed between innings. + +All baseball players like to bat, and nothing +pleases them so much as base hits; on the other +hand, nothing is quite so painful as to send out +hard liners only to see them caught. And it +seemed as if every man on our team connected +with that lanky twirler's fast high ball and hit +with the force that made the bat spring only to +have one of these rubes get his big hands upon +it. + +Considering that we were in no angelic frame +of mind before the game started, and in view of +Merritt's persistently increasing ill humor, this +failure of ours to hit a ball safely gradually +worked us into a kind of frenzy. From indifference +we passed to determination, and from that +to sheer passionate purpose. + +Luck appeared to be turning in the sixth inning. +With one out, Lake hit a beauty to right. Doran +beat an infield grounder and reached first. Hathaway +struck out. + +With Browning up and me next, the situation +looked rather precarious for the Canadians. + +``Say, Deerfoot,'' whispered Merritt, ``dump +one down the third-base line. He's playin' deep. +It's a pipe. Then the bases will be full an' Reddy'll +clean up.'' + +In a stage like that Browning was a man +absolutely to depend upon. He placed a slow bunt +in the grass toward third and sprinted for first. +The third baseman fielded the ball, but, being +confused, did not know where to throw it. + +``Stick it in your basket,'' yelled Merritt, in a +delight that showed how hard he was pulling for +the gate money, and his beaming smile as he +turned to me was inspiring. ``Now, Reddy, it's +up to you! I'm not worrying about what's happened +so far. I know, with you at bat in a pinch, +it's all off!'' + +Merritt's compliment was pleasing, but it did +not augment my purpose, for that already had +reached the highest mark. Love of hitting, if no +other thing, gave me the thrilling fire to arise to +the opportunity. Selecting my light bat, I went +up and faced the rustic twirler and softly said +things to him. + +He delivered the ball, and I could have yelled +aloud, so fast, so straight, so true it sped toward +me. Then I hit it harder than I had ever hit a +ball in my life. The bat sprung, as if it were +whalebone. And the ball took a bullet course +between center and left. So beautiful a hit was it +that I watched as I ran. + +Out of the tail of my eye I saw the center +fielder running. When I rounded first base I got +a good look at this fielder, and though I had seen +the greatest outfielders the game ever produced, +I never saw one that covered ground so swiftly +as he. + +On the ball soared, and began to drop; on the +fielder sped, and began to disappear over a little +hill back of his position. Then he reached up with +a long arm and marvelously caught the ball in +one hand. He went out of sight as I touched +second base, and the heterogeneous crowd knew +about a great play to make more noise than a herd +of charging buffalo. + +In the next half inning our opponents, by clean +drives, scored two runs and we in our turn again +went out ignominiously. When the first of the +eighth came we were desperate and clamored for +the ``rabbit.'' + +``I've sneaked it in,'' said Merritt, with a low +voice. ``Got it to the umpire on the last passed +ball. See, the pitcher's got it now. Boys, it's all +off but the fireworks! Now, break loose!'' + +A peculiarity about the ``rabbit'' was the fact +that though it felt as light as the regulation league +ball it could not be thrown with the same speed +and to curve it was an impossibility. + +Bane hit the first delivery from our hoosier +stumbling block. The ball struck the ground and +began to bound toward short. With every bound +it went swifter, longer and higher, and it bounced +clear over the shortstop's head. Lake chopped +one in front of the plate, and it rebounded from +the ground straight up so high that both runners +were safe before it came down. + +Doran hit to the pitcher. The ball caromed +his leg, scooted fiendishly at the second baseman, +and tried to run up all over him like a tame +squirrel. Bases full! + +Hathaway got a safe fly over the infield and two +runs tallied. The pitcher, in spite of the help of +the umpire, could not locate the plate for Balknap, +and gave him a base on balls. Bases full +again! + +Deerfoot slammed a hot liner straight at the +second baseman, which, striking squarely in his +hands, recoiled as sharply as if it had struck a +wall. Doran scored, and still the bases were filled. + +The laboring pitcher began to get rattled; he +could not find his usual speed; he knew it, but +evidently could not account for it. + +When I came to bat, indications were not wanting +that the Canadian team would soon be up in +the air. The long pitcher delivered the ``rabbit,'' +and got it low down by my knees, which +was an unfortunate thing for him. I swung on +that one, and trotted round the bases behind the +runners while the center and left fielders chased +the ball. + +Gillinger weighed nearly two hundred pounds, +and he got all his weight under the ``rabbit.'' It +went so high that we could scarcely see it. All +the infielders rushed in, and after staggering +around, with heads bent back, one of them, the +shortstop, managed to get under it. The ``rabbit'' +bounded forty feet out of his hands! + +When Snead's grounder nearly tore the third +baseman's leg off; when Bane's hit proved as +elusive as a flitting shadow; when Lake's liner +knocked the pitcher flat, and Doran's fly leaped +high out of the center fielder's glove--then those +earnest, simple, country ballplayers realized +something was wrong. But they imagined it was +in themselves, and after a short spell of rattles, +they steadied up and tried harder than ever. The +motions they went through trying to stop that +jumping jackrabbit of a ball were ludicrous in +the extreme. + +Finally, through a foul, a short fly, and a scratch +hit to first, they retired the side and we went into +the field with the score 14 to 2 in our favor. + +But Merritt had not found it possible to get the +``rabbit'' out of play! + +We spent a fatefully anxious few moments +squabbling with the umpire and captain over the +``rabbit.'' At the idea of letting those herculean +railsplitters have a chance to hit the rubber ball +we felt our blood run cold. + +``But this ball has a rip in it,'' blustered +Gillinger. He lied atrociously. A microscope could +not have discovered as much as a scratch in that +smooth leather. + +``Sure it has,'' supplemented Merritt, in the +suave tones of a stage villain. ``We're used to +playing with good balls.'' + +``Why did you ring this one in on us?'' asked +the captain. ``We never threw out this ball. We +want a chance to hit it.'' + +That was just the one thing we did not want +them to have. But fate played against us. + +``Get up on your toes, now an' dust,'' said +Merritt. ``Take your medicine, you lazy sit-in-front- +of-the-hotel stiffs! Think of pay day!'' + +Not improbably we all entertained the identical +thought that old man Hathaway was the last +pitcher under the sun calculated to be effective +with the ``rabbit.'' He never relied on speed; +in fact, Merritt often scornfully accused him of +being unable to break a pane of glass; he used +principally what we called floaters and a change +of pace. Both styles were absolutely impractical +with the ``rabbit.'' + +``It's comin' to us, all right, all right!'' yelled +Deerfoot to me, across the intervening grass. I +was of the opinion that it did not take any genius +to make Deerfoot's ominous prophecy. + +Old man Hathaway gazed at Merritt on the +bench as if he wished the manager could hear +what he was calling him and then at his fellow- +players as if both to warn and beseech them. +Then he pitched the ``rabbit.'' + +Crack! + +The big lumbering Canadian rapped the ball +at Crab Bane. I did not see it, because it went +so fast, but I gathered from Crab's actions that +it must have been hit in his direction. At any +rate, one of his legs flopped out sidewise as if +it had been suddenly jerked, and he fell in a heap. +The ball, a veritable ``rabbit'' in its wild jumps, +headed on for Deerfoot, who contrived to stop it +with his knees. + +The next batter resembled the first one, and +the hit likewise, only it leaped wickedly at Doran +and went through his hands as if they had been +paper. The third man batted up a very high fly +to Gillinger. He clutched at it with his huge +shovel hands, but he could not hold it. The way +he pounced upon the ball, dug it out of the grass, +and hurled it at Hathaway, showed his anger. + +Obviously Hathaway had to stop the throw, +for he could not get out of the road, and he spoke +to his captain in what I knew were no complimentary +terms. + +Thus began retribution. Those husky lads +continued to hammer the ``rabbit'' at the infielders +and as it bounced harder at every bounce so they +batted harder at every bat. + +Another singular feature about the ``rabbit'' +was the seeming impossibility for professionals +to hold it. Their familiarity with it, their +understanding of its vagaries and inconsistencies, their +mortal dread made fielding it a much more difficult +thing than for their opponents. + +By way of variety, the lambasting Canadians +commenced to lambast a few over the hills and +far away, which chased Deerfoot and me until +our tongues lolled out. + +Every time a run crossed the plate the motley +crowd howled, roared, danced and threw up their +hats. The members of the batting team pranced +up and down the side lines, giving a splendid +imitation of cannibals celebrating the occasion of a +feast. + +Once Snead stooped down to trap the ``rabbit,'' +and it slipped through his legs, for which +his comrades jeered him unmercifully. Then a +brawny batter sent up a tremendously high fly +between short and third. + +``You take it!'' yelled Gillinger to Bane. + +``You take it!'' replied the Crab, and actually +walked backward. That ball went a mile high. +The sky was hazy, gray, the most perplexing in +which to judge a fly ball. An ordinary fly gave +trouble enough in the gauging. + +Gillinger wandered around under the ball for +what seemed an age. It dropped as swiftly as a +rocket shoots upward. Gillinger went forward +in a circle, then sidestepped, and threw up his +broad hands. He misjudged the ball, and it hit +him fairly on the head and bounced almost to +where Doran stood at second. + +Our big captain wilted. Time was called. But +Gillinger, when he came to, refused to leave the +game and went back to third with a lump on his +head as large as a goose egg. + +Every one of his teammates was sorry, yet +every one howled in glee. To be hit on the head +was the unpardonable sin for a professional. + +Old man Hathaway gradually lost what little +speed he had, and with it his nerve. Every time +he pitched the ``rabbit'' he dodged. That was +about the funniest and strangest thing ever seen +on a ball field. Yet it had an element of tragedy. + +Hathaway's expert contortions saved his head +and body on divers occasions, but presently a low +bounder glanced off the grass and manifested an +affinity for his leg. + +We all knew from the crack and the way the +pitcher went down that the ``rabbit'' had put him +out of the game. The umpire called time, and +Merritt came running on the diamond. + +``Hard luck, old man,'' said the manager. +``That'll make a green and yellow spot all right. +Boys, we're still two runs to the good. There's +one out, an' we can win yet. Deerfoot, you're as +badly crippled as Hathaway. The bench for +yours. Hooker will go to center, an' I'll pitch.'' + +Merritt's idea did not strike us as a bad one. +He could pitch, and he always kept his arm in +prime condition. We welcomed him into the fray +for two reasons--because he might win the game, +and because he might be overtaken by the baseball +Nemesis. + +While Merritt was putting on Hathaway's baseball +shoes, some of us endeavored to get the ``rabbit'' +away from the umpire, but he was too wise. + +Merritt received the innocent-looking ball with +a look of mingled disgust and fear, and he summarily +ordered us to our positions. + +Not far had we gone, however, when we were +electrified by the umpire's sharp words: + +``Naw! Naw, you don't. I saw you change the +ball I gave you fer one in your pocket! Naw! +You don't come enny of your American dodges +on us! Gimmee thet ball, an' you use the other, +or I'll stop the game.'' + +Wherewith the shrewd umpire took the ball from +Merritt's hand and fished the ``rabbit'' from his +pocket. Our thwarted manager stuttered his +wrath. ``Y-you be-be-wh-whiskered y-yap! I'll +g-g-give----'' + +What dire threat he had in mind never +materialized, for he became speechless. He glowered +upon the cool little umpire, and then turned +grandly toward the plate. + +It may have been imagination, yet I made sure +Merritt seemed to shrink and grow smaller before +he pitched a ball. For one thing the plate was +uphill from the pitcher's box, and then the fellow +standing there loomed up like a hill and swung +a bat that would have served as a wagon tongue. +No wonder Merritt evinced nervousness. Presently +he whirled and delivered the ball. + +Bing! + +A dark streak and a white puff of dust over +second base showed how safe that hit was. By +dint of manful body work, Hooker contrived to +stop the ``rabbit'' in mid-center. Another run +scored. Human nature was proof against this +temptation, and Merritt's players tendered him +manifold congratulations and dissertations. + +``Grand, you old skinflint, grand!'' + +``There was a two-dollar bill stickin' on thet +hit. Why didn't you stop it?'' + +``Say, Merritt, what little brains you've got will +presently be ridin' on the `rabbit.' '' + +``You will chase up these exhibition games!'' + +``Take your medicine now. Ha! Ha! Ha!'' + +After these merciless taunts, and particularly +after the next slashing hit that tied the score, +Merritt looked appreciably smaller and humbler. + +He threw up another ball, and actually shied as +it neared the plate. + +The giant who was waiting to slug it evidently +thought better of his eagerness as far as that pitch +was concerned, for he let it go by. + +Merritt got the next ball higher. With a mighty +swing, the batsman hit a terrific liner right at the +pitcher. + +Quick as lightning, Merritt wheeled, and the +ball struck him with the sound of two boards +brought heavily together with a smack. + +Merritt did not fall; he melted to the ground +and writhed while the runners scored with more +tallies than they needed to win. + +What did we care! Justice had been done us, +and we were unutterably happy. Crabe Bane +stood on his head; Gillinger began a war dance; +old man Hathaway hobbled out to the side lines +and whooped like an Indian; Snead rolled over +and over in the grass. All of us broke out into +typical expressions of baseball frenzy, and +individual ones illustrating our particular moods. + +Merritt got up and made a dive for the ball. +With face positively flaming he flung it far beyond +the merry crowd, over into a swamp. Then he +limped for the bench. Which throw ended the +most memorable game ever recorded to the credit +of the ``rabbit.'' + + + +FALSE COLORS + + +``Fate has decreed more bad luck for Salisbury +in Saturday's game with Bellville. It has leaked +out that our rivals will come over strengthened +by a `ringer,' no less than Yale's star pitcher, +Wayne. We saw him shut Princeton out in June, +in the last game of the college year, and we are +not optimistic in our predictions as to what Salisbury +can do with him. This appears a rather unfair +procedure for Bellville to resort to. Why +couldn't they come over with their regular team? +They have won a game, and so have we; both +games were close and brilliant; the deciding game +has roused unusual interest. We are inclined to +resent Bellville's methods as unsportsmanlike. +All our players can do is to go into this game on +Saturday and try the harder to win.'' + +Wayne laid down the Salisbury Gazette, with a +little laugh of amusement, yet feeling a vague, +disquieting sense of something akin to regret. + +``Pretty decent of that chap not to roast me,'' +he soliloquized. + +Somewhere he had heard that Salisbury +maintained an unsalaried team. It was notorious +among college athletes that the Bellville Club paid +for the services of distinguished players. And +this in itself rather inclined Wayne to sympathize +with Salisbury. He knew something of the struggles +of a strictly amateur club to cope with its +semi-professional rivals. + +As he was sitting there, idly tipped back in a +comfortable chair, dreaming over some of the +baseball disasters he had survived before his college +career, he saw a young man enter the lobby +of the hotel, speak to the clerk, and then turn and +come directly toward the window where Wayne +was sitting. + +``Are yon Mr. Wayne, the Yale pitcher?'' +he asked eagerly. He was a fair-haired, +clean-cut young fellow, and his voice rang pleasantly. + +``Guilty,'' replied Wayne. + +``My name's Huling. I'm captain of the Salisbury +nine. Just learned you were in town and +are going to pitch against us tomorrow. Won't +you walk out into the grounds with me now? +You might want to warm up a little.'' + +``Thank you, yes, I will. Guess I won't need +my suit. I'll just limber up, and give my arm a +good rub.'' + +It struck Wayne before they had walked far +that Huling was an amiable and likable chap. As +the captain of the Salisbury nine, he certainly +had no reason to be agreeable to the Morristown +``ringer,'' even though Wayne did happen to be +a famous Yale pitcher. + +The field was an oval, green as an emerald, level +as a billiard table and had no fences or stands +to obstruct the open view of the surrounding +wooded country. On each side of the diamond +were rows of wooden benches, and at one end of +the field stood a little clubhouse. + +Wayne took off his coat, and tossed a ball for +a while to an ambitious youngster, and then went +into the clubhouse, where Huling introduced him +to several of his players. After a good rubdown, +Wayne thanked Huling for his courtesy, and +started out, intending to go back to town. + +``Why not stay to see us practice?'' asked the +captain. ``We're not afraid you'll size up our +weaknesses. As a matter of fact, we don't look +forward to any hitting stunts tomorrow, eh, +Burns? Burns, here, is our leading hitter, and +he's been unusually noncommittal since he heard +who was going to pitch for Bellville.'' + +``Well, I wouldn't give a whole lot for my prospects +of a home run tomorrow,'' said Burns, with +a laugh. + +Wayne went outside, and found a seat in the +shade. A number of urchins had trooped upon +the green field, and carriages and motors were +already in evidence. By the time the players came +out of the dressing room, ready for practice, there +was quite a little crowd in attendance. + +Despite Wayne's hesitation, Huling insisted +upon introducing him to friends, and finally hauled +him up to a big touring car full of girls. Wayne, +being a Yale pitcher, had seen several thousand +pretty girls, but the group in that automobile +fairly dazzled him. And the last one to whom +Huling presented him--with the words: ``Dorothy, +this is Mr. Wayne, the Yale pitcher, who is +to play with Bellville tomorrow; Mr. Wayne, my +sister''--was the girl he had known he would +meet some day. + +``Climb up, Mr. Wayne. We can make room,'' +invited Miss Huling. + +Wayne thought the awkwardness with which he +found a seat beside her was unbecoming to a Yale +senior. But, considering she was the girl he had +been expecting to discover for years, his clumsiness +bespoke the importance of the event. The +merry laughter of the girls rang in his ears. +Presently, a voice detached itself from the others, +and came floating softly to him. + +``Mr. Wayne, so you're going to wrest our +laurels from us?'' asked Miss Huling. + +``I don't know--I'm not infallible--I've been +beaten.'' + +``When? Not this season?'' she inquired +quickly, betraying a knowledge of his record +that surprised and pleased him. ``Mr. Wayne, +I was at the Polo Grounds on June fifteenth.'' + +Her white hand lightly touched the Princeton +pin at her neck. Wayne roused suddenly out of +his trance. The girl was a Princeton girl! The +gleam of her golden hair, the flash of her blue +eyes, became clear in sight. + +``I'm very pleased to hear it,'' he replied. + +``It was a great game, Mr. Wayne, and you may +well be proud of your part in winning it. I +shouldn't be surprised if you treated the Salisbury +team to the same coat of whitewash. We +girls are up in arms. Our boys stood a fair chance +to win this game, but now there's a doubt. By +the way, are you acquainted in Bellville?'' + +``No. I met Reed, the Bellville captain, in New +York this week. He had already gotten an extra +pitcher--another ringer--for this game, but he +said he preferred me, if it could be arranged.'' + +While conversing, Wayne made note of the fact +that the other girls studiously left him to Miss +Huling. If the avoidance had not been so marked, +he would never have thought of it. + +``Mr. Wayne, if your word is not involved--will +you change your mind and pitch tomorrow's game +for us instead of Bellville?'' + +Quite amazed, Wayne turned squarely to look +at Miss Huling. Instead of disarming his quick +suspicion, her cool, sweet voice, and brave, blue +eyes confirmed it. The charms of the captain's +sister were to be used to win him away from the +Bellville nine. He knew the trick; it had been +played upon him before. + +But never had any other such occasion given +him a feeling of regret. This case was different. +She was the girl. And she meant to flirt with him, +to use her eyes for all they were worth to +encompass the Waterloo of the rival team. + +No, he had made a mistake, after all--she was +not the real girl. Suddenly conscious of a little +shock of pain, he dismissed that dream girl from +his mind, and determined to meet Miss Huling +half way in her game. He could not flirt as well +as he could pitch; still, he was no novice. + +``Well, Miss Huling, my word certainly is not +involved. But as to pitching for Salisbury--that +depends.'' + +``Upon what?'' + +``Upon what there is in it.'' + +``Mr. Wayne, you mean--money? Oh, I know. +My brother Rex told me how you college men are +paid big sums. Our association will not give a +dollar, and, besides, my brother knows nothing of +this. But we girls are heart and soul on winning +this game. We'll----'' + +``Miss Huling, I didn't mean remuneration in +sordid cash,'' interrupted Wayne, in a tone that +heightened the color in her cheeks. + +Wayne eyed her keenly with mingled emotions. +Was that rose-leaf flush in her cheeks natural? +Some girls could blush at will. Were the wistful +eyes, the earnest lips, only shamming? It cost +him some bitterness to decide that they were. +Her beauty fascinated, while it hardened him. +Eternally, the beauty of women meant the undoing +of men, whether they played the simple, +inconsequential game of baseball, or the great, +absorbing, mutable game of life. + +The shame of the situation for him was increasingly +annoying, inasmuch as this lovely girl +should stoop to flirtation with a stranger, and the +same time draw him, allure him, despite the +apparent insincerity. + +``Miss Huling, I'll pitch your game for two +things,'' he continued. + +``Name them.'' + +``Wear Yale blue in place of that orange-and- +black Princeton pin.'' + +``I will.'' She said it with a shyness, a look in +her eyes that made Wayne wince. What a perfect +little actress! But there seemed just a chance +that this was not deceit. For an instant he +wavered, held back by subtle, finer intuition; then +he beat down the mounting influence of truth in +those dark-blue eyes, and spoke deliberately: + +``The other thing is--if I win the game--a +kiss.'' + +Dorothy Huling's face flamed scarlet. But this +did not affect Wayne so deeply, though it showed +him his mistake, as the darkening shadow of +disappointment in her eyes. If she had been a flirt, +she would have been prepared for rudeness. He +began casting about in his mind for some apology, +some mitigation of his offense; but as he was +about to speak, the sudden fading of her color, +leaving her pale, and the look in her proud, dark +eyes disconcerted him out of utterance. + +``Certainly, Mr. Wayne. I agree to your price +if you win the game.'' + +But how immeasurable was the distance +between the shy consent to wear Yale blue, and the +pale, surprised agreement to his second proposal! +Wayne experienced a strange sensation of personal loss. + +While he endeavored to find his tongue, Miss +Huling spoke to one of the boys standing near, +and he started off on a run for the field. Presently +Huling and the other players broke for the car, +soon surrounding it in breathless anticipation. + +``Wayne, is it straight? You'll pitch for us +tomorrow?'' demanded the captain, with shining +eyes. + +``Surely I will. Bellville don't need me. +They've got Mackay, of Georgetown,'' replied +Wayne. + +Accustomed as he was to being mobbed by +enthusiastic students and admiring friends, Wayne +could not but feel extreme embarrassment at the +reception accorded him now. He felt that he was +sailing under false colors. The boys mauled him, +the girls fluttered about him with glad laughter. +He had to tear himself away; and when he finally +reached his hotel, he went to his room, with his +mind in a tumult. + +Wayne cursed himself roundly; then he fell into +deep thought. He began to hope he could retrieve +the blunder. He would win the game; he would +explain to her the truth; he would ask for an +opportunity to prove he was worthy of her friendship; +he would not mention the kiss. This last +thought called up the soft curve of her red lips +and that it was possible for him to kiss her made +the temptation strong. + +His sleep that night was not peaceful and +dreamless. He awakened late, had breakfast sent +to his room, and then took a long walk out into +the country. After lunch he dodged the crowd in +the hotel lobby, and hurried upstairs, where he +put on his baseball suit. The first person he met +upon going down was Reed, the Bellville man. + +``What's this I hear, Wayne, about your pitching +for Salisbury today? I got your telegram.'' + +``Straight goods,'' replied Wayne. + +``But I thought you intended to pitch for us?'' + +``I didn't promise, did I?'' + +``No. Still, it looks fishy to me.'' + +``You've got Mackay, haven't you?'' + +``Yes. The truth is, I intended to use you +both.'' + +``Well, I'll try to win for Salisbury. Hope +there's no hard feeling.'' + +``Not at all. Only if I didn't have the Georgetown +crack, I'd yell murder. As it is, we'll trim +Salisbury anyway.'' + +``Maybe,'' answered Wayne, laughing. ``It's +a hot day, and my arm feels good.'' + +When Wayne reached the ball grounds, he +thought he had never seen a more inspiring sight. +The bright green oval was surrounded by a glittering +mass of white and blue and black. Out +along the foul lines were carriages, motors, and +tally-hos, brilliant with waving fans and flags. +Over the field murmured the low hum of many +voices. + +``Here you are!'' cried Huling, making a grab +for Wayne. ``Where were you this morning? +We couldn't find you. Come! We've got a minute +before the practice whistle blows, and I promised +to exhibit you.'' + +He hustled Wayne down the first-base line, past +the cheering crowd, out among the motors, to the +same touring car that he remembered. A bevy of +white-gowned girls rose like a covey of ptarmigans, +and whirled flags of maroon and gray. + +Dorothy Huling wore a bow of Yale blue upon +her breast, and Wayne saw it and her face through +a blur. + +``Hurry, girls; get it over. We've got to +practice,'' said the captain. + +In the merry melee some one tied a knot of +ribbon upon Wayne. Who it was he did not know; +he saw only the averted face of Dorothy Huling. +And as he returned to the field with a dull pang, +he determined he would make her indifference +disappear with the gladness of a victory for her +team. + +The practice was short, but long enough for +Wayne to locate the glaring weakness of Salisbury +at shortstop and third base. In fact, most +of the players of his team showed rather poor +form; they were overstrained, and plainly lacked +experience necessary for steadiness in an +important game. + +Burns, the catcher, however, gave Wayne +confidence. He was a short, sturdy youngster, with +all the earmarks of a coming star. Huling, the +captain, handled himself well at first base. The +Bellville players were more matured, and some of +them were former college cracks. Wayne saw +that he had his work cut out for him. + +The whistle blew. The Bellville team trotted +to their position in the field; the umpire called +play, and tossed a ball to Mackay, the long, lean +Georgetown pitcher. + +Wells, the first batter, fouled out; Stamford hit +an easy bounce to the pitcher, and Clews put up +a little Texas leaguer--all going out, one, two, +three, on three pitched balls. + +The teams changed from bat to field. Wayne +faced the plate amid vociferous cheering. He +felt that he could beat this team even without good +support. He was in the finest condition, and his +arm had been resting for ten days. He knew that +if he had control of his high inshoot, these +Bellville players would feel the whiz of some speed +under their chins. + +He struck Moore out, retired Reed on a measly +fly, and made Clark hit a weak grounder to second; +and he walked in to the bench assured of the +outcome. On some days he had poor control; on +others his drop ball refused to work properly; +but, as luck would have it, he had never had +greater speed or accuracy, or a more bewildering +fast curve than on this day, when he meant to +win a game for a girl. + +``Boys, I've got everything,'' he said to his +fellow-players, calling them around him. ``A couple +of runs will win for us. Now, listen, I know +Mackay. He hasn't any speed, or much of a curve. +All he's got is a teasing slow ball and a foxy head. +Don't be too anxious to hit. Make him put 'em +over.'' + +But the Salisbury players were not proof +against the tempting slow balls that Mackay +delivered. They hit at wide curves far off the plate +and when they did connect with the ball it was +only to send an easy chance to the infielders. + +The game seesawed along, inning after inning; +it was a pitcher's battle that looked as if the first +run scored would win the game. Mackay toyed +with the Salisbury boys; it was his pleasure to +toss up twisting, floating balls that could scarcely +be hit out of the diamond. Wayne had the +Bellville players utterly at his mercy; he mixed up his +high jump and fast drop so cleverly, with his +sweeping out-curve, that his opponents were unable +to gauge his delivery at all. + +In the first of the seventh, Barr for Bellville +hit a ball which the third baseman should have +fielded. But he fumbled. The second batter sent +a fly to shortstop, who muffed it. The third +hitter reached his base on another error by an +infielder. Here the bases were crowded, and the +situation had become critical all in a moment. +Wayne believed the infield would go to pieces, and +lose the game, then and there, if another hit went +to short or third. + +``Steady up, boys,'' called Wayne, and beckoned +for his catcher. + +``Burns, it's up to you and me,'' he said, in a +low tone. ``I've got to fan the rest of these +hitters. You're doing splendidly. Now, watch close +for my drop. Be ready to go down on your knees. +When I let myself out, the ball generally hits the +ground just back of the plate.'' + +``Speed 'em over!'' said Burns, his sweaty face +grim and determined. ``I'll get in front of 'em.'' + +The head of the batting list was up for +Bellville, and the whole Bellville contingent on the +side lines rose and yelled and cheered. + +Moore was a left handed hitter, who choked his +bat up short, and poked at the ball. He was a +good bunter, and swift on his feet. Wayne had +taken his measure, as he had that of the other +players, earlier in the game; and he knew it was +good pitching to keep the ball in close to Moore's +hands, so that if he did hit it, the chances were +it would not go safe. + +Summoning all his strength, Wayne took his +long swing and shot the ball over the inside corner +with terrific speed. + +One strike! + +Wayne knew it would not do to waste any balls +if he wished to maintain that speed, so he put +the second one in the same place. Moore struck +too late. + +Two strikes! + +Then Burns signed for the last drop. Wayne +delivered it with trepidation, for it was a hard +curve to handle. Moore fell all over himself +trying to hit it. Little Burns dropped to his knees +to block the vicious curve. It struck the ground, +and, glancing, boomed deep on the breast protector. + +How the Salisbury supporters roared their +approval! One man out--the bases full--with Reed, +the slugging captain, at bat! + +If Reed had a weakness, Wayne had not +discovered it yet, although Reed had not hit safely. +The captain stood somewhat back from the plate, +a fact that induced Wayne to try him with the +speedy outcurve. Reed lunged with a powerful +swing, pulling away from the plate, and he missed +the curve by a foot. + +Wayne did not need to know any more. Reed +had made his reputation slugging straight balls +from heedless pitchers. He chopped the air twice +more, and flung his bat savagely to the ground. + +``Two out--play the hitter!'' called Wayne to +his team. + +Clark, the third man up, was the surest batter +on the Bellville team. He looked dangerous. He +had made the only hit so far to the credit of his +team. Wayne tried to work him on a high, fast +ball close in. Clark swung freely and cracked a +ripping liner to left. Half the crowd roared, and +then groaned, for the beautiful hit went foul by +several yards. Wayne wisely decided to risk all +on his fast drop. Clark missed the first, fouled +the second. + +Two strikes! + +Then he waited. He cooly let one, two, three +of the fast drops go by without attempting to hit +them. Burns valiantly got his body in front of +them. These balls were all over the plate, but too +low to be called strikes. With two strikes, and +three balls, and the bases full, Clark had the advantage. + +Tight as the place was, Wayne did not flinch. +The game depended practically upon the next ball +delivered. Wayne craftily and daringly decided +to use another fast drop, for of all his assortment +that would be the one least expected by Clark. +But it must be started higher, so that in case +Clark made no effort to swing, it would still be a +strike. + +Gripping the ball with a clinched hand, Wayne +swung sharply, and drove it home with the limit +of his power. It sped like a bullet, waist high, +and just before reaching the plate darted downward, +as if it had glanced on an invisible barrier. + +Clark was fooled completely and struck futilely. +But the ball caromed from the hard ground, hit +Burns with a resounding thud, and bounced away. +Clark broke for first, and Moore dashed for home. +Like a tiger the little catcher pounced upon the +ball, and, leaping back into line, blocked the +sliding Moore three feet from the plate. + +Pandemonium burst loose among the Salisbury +adherents. The men bawled, the women screamed, +the boys shrieked, and all waved their hats and +flags, and jumped up and down, and manifested +symptoms of baseball insanity. + +In the first of the eighth inning, Mackay sailed +up the balls like balloons, and disposed of three +batters on the same old weak hits to his clever +fielders. In the last of the eighth, Wayne struck +out three more Bellville players. + +``Burns, you're up,'' said Wayne, who, in his +earnestness to win, kept cheering his comrades. +``Do something. Get your base any way you can. +Get in front of one. We must score this inning.'' + +Faithful, battered Burns cunningly imposed his +hip over the plate and received another bruise in +the interests of his team. The opposing players +furiously stormed at the umpire for giving him +his base, but Burns' trick went through. Burnett +bunted skilfully, sending Burns to second. Cole +hit a fly to center. Then Huling singled between +short and third. + +It became necessary for the umpire to delay the +game while he put the madly leaping boys back +off the coaching lines. The shrill, hilarious cheering +gradually died out, and the field settled into a +forced quiet. + +Wayne hurried up to the plate and took his +position. He had always been a timely hitter, and +he gritted his teeth in his resolve to settle this +game. Mackay whirled his long arm, wheeled, +took his long stride, and pitched a slow, tantalizing +ball that seemed never to get anywhere. But +Wayne waited, timed it perfectly, and met it +squarely. + +The ball flew safely over short, and but for a +fine sprint and stop by the left fielder, would have +resulted in a triple, possibly a home run. As it +was, Burns and Huling scored; and Wayne, by a +slide, reached second base. When he arose and +saw the disorderly riot, and heard the noise of +that well-dressed audience, he had a moment of +exultation. Then Wells flew out to center ending +the chances for more runs. + +As Wayne received the ball in the pitcher's box, +he paused and looked out across the field toward +a white-crowned motor car, and he caught a gleam +of Dorothy Huling's golden hair, and wondered +if she were glad. + +For nothing short of the miraculous could +snatch this game from him now. Burns had withstood +a severe pounding, but he would last out +the inning, and Wayne did not take into account +the rest of the team. He opened up with no +slackening of his terrific speed, and he struck out the +three remaining batters on eleven pitched balls. +Then in the rising din he ran for Burns and gave +him a mighty hug. + +``You made the gamest stand of any catcher I +ever pitched to,'' he said warmly. + +Burns looked at his quivering, puffed, and +bleeding hands, and smiled as if to say that this +was praise to remember, and reward enough. +Then the crowd swooped down on them, and they +were swallowed up in the clamor and surge of +victory. When Wayne got out of the thick and +press of it, he made a bee line for his hotel, and +by running a gauntlet managed to escape. + +Resting, dressing, and dining were matters +which he went through mechanically, with his +mind ever on one thing. Later, he found a dark +corner of the porch and sat there waiting, thinking. +There was to be a dance given in honor of +the team that evening at the hotel. He watched +the boys and girls pass up the steps. When the +music commenced, he arose and went into the hall. +It was bright with white gowns, and gay with +movement. + +``There he is. Grab him, somebody,'' yelled +Huling. + +``Do something for me, quick,'' implored Wayne +of the captain, as he saw the young people wave +toward him. + +``Salisbury is yours tonight,'' replied Huling + +``Ask your sister to save me one dance.'' + +Then he gave himself up. He took his meed of +praise and flattery, and he withstood the battery +of arch eyes modestly, as became the winner of +many fields. But even the reception after the +Princeton game paled in comparison with this +impromptu dance. + +She was here. Always it seemed, while he +listened or talked or danced, his eyes were drawn to +a slender, graceful form, and a fair face crowned +with golden hair. Then he was making his way +to where she stood near one of the open windows. + +He never knew what he said to her, nor what +reply she made, but she put her arm in his, and +presently they were gliding over the polished +floor. To Wayne the dance was a dream. He led +her through the hall and out upon the balcony, +where composure strangely came to him. + +``Mr. Wayne, I have to thank you for saving +the day for us. You pitched magnificently.'' + +``I would have broken my arm to win that +game,'' burst out Wayne. ``Miss Huling, I made +a blunder yesterday. I thought there was a +conspiracy to persuade me to throw down Bellville. +I've known of such things, and I resented it. +You understand what I thought. I humbly offer +my apologies, and beg that you forget the rude +obligation I forced upon you.'' + +How cold she was! How unattainable in that +moment! He caught his breath, and rushed on. + +``Your brother and the management of the club +have asked me to pitch for Salisbury the remainder +of the season. I shall be happy to--if----'' + +``If what?'' She was all alive now, flushing +warmly, dark eyes alight, the girl of his dreams. + +``If you will forgive me--if you will let me be +your friend--if--Miss Huling, you will again wear +that bit of Yale blue.'' + +``If, Mr. Wayne, you had very sharp eyes you +would have noticed that I still wear it!'' + + + +THE MANAGER OF MADDEN'S HILL + + +Willie Howarth loved baseball. He loved it +all the more because he was a cripple. The game +was more beautiful and wonderful to him because +he would never be able to play it. For Willie +had been born with one leg shorter than the other; +he could not run and at 11 years of age it was +all he could do to walk with a crutch. + +Nevertheless Willie knew more about baseball +than any other boy on Madden's Hill. An uncle +of his had once been a ballplayer and he had +taught Willie the fine points of the game. And +this uncle's ballplayer friends, who occasionally +visited him, had imparted to Willie the vernacular +of the game. So that Willie's knowledge of players +and play, and particularly of the strange talk, +the wild and whirling words on the lips of the real +baseball men, made him the envy of every boy on +Madden's Hill, and a mine of information. Willie +never missed attending the games played on the +lots, and he could tell why they were won or lost. + +Willie suffered considerable pain, mostly at +night, and this had given him a habit of lying +awake in the dark hours, grieving over that +crooked leg that forever shut him out of the heritage +of youth. He had kept his secret well; he was +accounted shy because he was quiet and had never +been able to mingle with the boys in their activity. +No one except his mother dreamed of the fire and +hunger and pain within his breast. His school- +mates called him ``Daddy.'' It was a name given +for his bent shoulders, his labored gait and his +thoughtful face, too old for his years. And no +one, not even his mother, guessed how that name +hurt Willie. + +It was a source of growing unhappiness with +Willie that the Madden's Hill boys were always +beaten by the other teams of the town. He really +came to lose his sadness over his own misfortune +in pondering on the wretched play of the Madden's +Hill baseball club. He had all a boy's +pride in the locality where he lived. And when +the Bogg's Farm team administered a crushing +defeat to Madden's Hill, Willie grew desperate. + +Monday he met Lane Griffith, the captain of +the Madden's Hill nine. + +``Hello, Daddy,'' said Lane. He was a big, +aggressive boy, and in a way had a fondness for +Willie. + +``Lane, you got an orful trimmin' up on the +Boggs. What 'd you wanter let them country jakes +beat you for?'' + +``Aw, Daddy, they was lucky. Umpire had hay- +seed in his eyes! Robbed us! He couldn't see +straight. We'll trim them down here Saturday.'' + +``No, you won't--not without team work. Lane, +you've got to have a manager.'' + +``Durn it! Where 're we goin' to get one?'' +Lane blurted out. + +``You can sign me. I can't play, but I know the +game. Let me coach the boys.'' + +The idea seemed to strike Capt. Griffith +favorably. He prevailed upon all the boys living on +Madden's Hill to come out for practice after +school. Then he presented them to the managing +coach. The boys were inclined to poke fun at +Daddy Howarth and ridicule him; but the idea +was a novel one and they were in such a state of +subjection from many beatings that they welcomed +any change. Willie sat on a bench improvised +from a soap box and put them through a +drill of batting and fielding. The next day in his +coaching he included bunting and sliding. He +played his men in different positions and for three +more days he drove them unmercifully. + +When Saturday came, the day for the game +with Bogg's Farm, a wild protest went up from +the boys. Willie experienced his first bitterness +as a manager. Out of forty aspirants for the +Madden's Hill team he could choose but nine to +play the game. And as a conscientious manager +he could use no favorites. Willie picked the best +players and assigned them to positions that, in +his judgment, were the best suited to them. Bob +Irvine wanted to play first base and he was down +for right field. Sam Wickhart thought he was the +fastest fielder, and Willie had him slated to catch. +Tom Lindsay's feelings were hurt because he was +not to play in the infield. Eddie Curtis suffered +a fall in pride when he discovered he was not down +to play second base. Jake Thomas, Tay-Tay +Mohler and Brick Grace all wanted to pitch. The +manager had chosen Frank Price for that +important position, and Frank's one ambition was +to be a shortstop. + +So there was a deadlock. For a while there +seemed no possibility of a game. Willie sat on the +bench, the center of a crowd of discontented, +quarreling boys. Some were jealous, some were +outraged, some tried to pacify and persuade the +others. All were noisy. Lane Griffith stood by +his manager and stoutly declared the players +should play the positions to which they had been +assigned or not at all. And he was entering into +a hot argument with Tom Lindsay when the +Bogg's Farm team arrogantly put in an appearance. + +The way that team from the country walked out +upon the field made a great difference. The spirit +of Madden's Hill roused to battle. The game began +swiftly and went on wildly. It ended almost +before the Hill boys realized it had commenced. +They did not know how they had won but they +gave Daddy Howarth credit for it. They had a +bonfire that night to celebrate the victory and +they talked baseball until their parents became +alarmed and hunted them up. + +Madden's Hill practiced all that next week and +on Saturday beat the Seventh Ward team. In +four more weeks they had added half a dozen more +victories to their record. Their reputation went +abroad. They got uniforms, and baseball shoes +with spikes, and bats and balls and gloves. They +got a mask, but Sam Wickhart refused to catch +with it. + +``Sam, one of these days you'll be stoppin' a +high inshoot with your eye,'' sagely remarked +Daddy Howarth. ``An' then where'll I get a +catcher for the Natchez game?'' + +Natchez was the one name on the lips of every +Madden's Hill boy. For Natchez had the great +team of the town and, roused by the growing +repute of the Hill club, had condescended to arrange +a game. When that game was scheduled for July +Fourth Daddy Howarth set to driving his men. +Early and late he had them out. This manager, in +keeping with all other famous managers, believed +that batting was the thing which won games. He +developed a hard-hitting team. He kept everlastingly +at them to hit and run, hit and run. + +On the Saturday before the Fourth, Madden's +Hill had a game to play that did not worry +Daddy and he left his team in charge of the captain. + +``Fellers, I'm goin' down to the Round House +to see Natchez play. I'll size up their game,'' +said Daddy. + +When he returned he was glad to find that his +team had won its ninth straight victory, but he +was not communicative in regard to the playing of +the Natchez club. He appeared more than usually +thoughtful. + +The Fourth fell on Tuesday. Daddy had the +boys out Monday and he let them take only a +short, sharp practice. Then he sent them home. +In his own mind, Daddy did not have much hope +of beating Natchez. He had been greatly +impressed by their playing, and one inning toward +the close of the Round House game they had +astonished him with the way they suddenly seemed +to break loose and deluge their opponents in a +flood of hits and runs. He could not understand +this streak of theirs--for they did the same thing +every time they played--and he was too good a +baseball student to call it luck. + +He had never wanted anything in his life, not +even to have two good legs, as much as he wanted +to beat Natchez. For the Madden's Hill boys had +come to believe him infallible. He was their idol. +They imagined they had only to hit and run, to +fight and never give up, and Daddy would make +them win. There was not a boy on the team who +believed that Natchez had a chance. They had +grown proud and tenacious of their dearly won +reputation. First of all, Daddy thought of his +team and their loyalty to him; then he thought of +the glory lately come to Madden's Hill, and lastly +of what it meant to him to have risen from a lonely +watcher of the game--a cripple who could not even +carry a bat--to manager of the famous Hill team. +It might go hard with the boys to lose this game, +but it would break his heart. + +From time out of mind there had always been +rivalry between Madden's Hill and Natchez. And +there is no rivalry so bitter as that between boys. +So Daddy, as he lay awake at night planning the +system of play he wanted to use, left out of all +account any possibility of a peaceful game. It +was comforting to think that if it came to a fight +Sam and Lane could hold their own with Bo +Stranathan and Slugger Blandy. + +In the managing of his players Daddy observed +strict discipline. It was no unusual thing for him +to fine them. On practice days and off the field +they implicitly obeyed him. During actual play, +however, they had evinced a tendency to jump +over the traces. It had been his order for them +not to report at the field Tuesday until 2 o'clock. +He found it extremely difficult to curb his own +inclination to start before the set time. And only +the stern duty of a man to be an example to his +players kept Daddy at home. + +He lived near the ball grounds, yet on this day, +as he hobbled along on his crutch, he thought the +distance interminably long, and for the first time +in weeks the old sickening resentment at his useless +leg knocked at his heart. Manfully Daddy +refused admittance to that old gloomy visitor. +He found comfort and forgetfulness in the thought +that no strong and swift-legged boy of his +acquaintance could do what he could do. + +Upon arriving at the field Daddy was amazed +to see such a large crowd. It appeared that all +the boys and girls in the whole town were in +attendance, and, besides, there was a sprinkling of +grown-up people interspersed here and there +around the diamond. Applause greeted Daddy's +appearance and members of his team escorted him +to the soap-box bench. + +Daddy cast a sharp eye over the Natchez players +practicing on the field. Bo Stranathan had +out his strongest team. They were not a prepossessing +nine. They wore soiled uniforms that did +not match in cut or color. But they pranced and +swaggered and strutted! They were boastful and +boisterous. It was a trial for any Madden's Hill +boy just to watch them. + +``Wot a swelled bunch!'' exclaimed Tom Lindsay. + +``Fellers, if Slugger Blandy tries to pull any +stunt on me today he'll get a swelleder nut,'' +growled Lane Griffith. + +``T-t-t-t-t-te-te-tell him t-t-t-to keep out of +m-m-m-my way an' not b-b-b-b-bl-block me,'' +stuttered Tay-Tay Mohler. + +``We're a-goin' to skin 'em,'' said Eddie Curtis. + +``Cheese it, you kids, till we git in the game,'' +ordered Daddy. ``Now, Madden's Hill, hang +round an' listen. I had to sign articles with +Natchez--had to let them have their umpire. So +we're up against it. But we'll hit this pitcher +Muckle Harris. He ain't got any steam. An' he +ain't got much nerve. Now every feller who goes +up to bat wants to talk to Muck. Call him a big +swelled stiff. Tell him he can't break a pane of +glass--tell him he can't put one over the pan-- +tell him it he does you'll slam it down in the sand +bank. Bluff the whole team. Keep scrappy all +the time. See! That's my game today. This +Natchez bunch needs to be gone after. Holler at +the umpire. Act like you want to fight.'' + +Then Daddy sent his men out for practice. + +``Boss, enny ground rules?'' inquired Bo +Stranathan. He was a big, bushy-haired boy with +a grin and protruding teeth. ``How many bases +on wild throws over first base an' hits over the +sand bank?'' + +``All you can get,'' replied Daddy, with a +magnanimous wave of hand. + +``Huh! Lemmee see your ball?'' + +Daddy produced the ball that he had Lane had +made for the game. + +``Huh! Watcher think? We ain 't goin' to play +with no mush ball like thet,'' protested Bo. ``We +play with a hard ball. Looka here! We'll trow +up the ball.'' + +Daddy remembered what he had heard about +the singular generosity of the Natchez team to +supply the balls for the games they played. + +``We don't hev to pay nothin' fer them balls. +A man down at the Round House makes them for +us. They ain't no balls as good,'' explained Bo, +with pride. + +However, as Bo did not appear eager to pass +over the balls for examination Daddy simply +reached out and took them. They were small, +perfectly round and as hard as bullets. They had no +covers. The yarn had been closely and tightly +wrapped and then stitched over with fine bees- +waxed thread. Daddy fancied he detected a +difference in the weight of the ball, but Bo took them +back before Daddy could be sure of that point. + +``You don't have to fan about it. I know a ball +when I see one,'' observed Daddy. ``But we're +on our own grounds an' we'll use our own ball. +Thanks all the same to you, Stranathan.'' + +``Huh! All I gotta say is we'll play with my +ball er there won't be no game,'' said Bo suddenly. + +Daddy shrewdly eyed the Natchez captain. Bo +did not look like a fellow wearing himself thin +from generosity. It struck Daddy that Bo's habit +of supplying the ball for the game might have +some relation to the fact that he always carried +along his own umpire. There was a strange +feature about this umpire business and it was that +Bo's man had earned a reputation for being +particularly fair. No boy ever had any real reason +to object to Umpire Gale's decisions. When Gale +umpired away from the Natchez grounds his close +decisions always favored the other team, rather +than his own. It all made Daddy keen and +thoughtful. + +``Stranathan, up here on Madden's Hill we +know how to treat visitors. We'll play with your +ball. . . . Now keep your gang of rooters from +crowdin' on the diamond.'' + +``Boss, it's your grounds. Fire 'em off if they +don't suit you. . . . Come on, let's git in the +game. Watcher want--field er bat?'' + +``Field,'' replied Daddy briefly. + +Billy Gale called ``Play,'' and the game began +with Slugger Blandy at bat. The formidable way +in which he swung his club did not appear to have +any effect on Frank Price or the player back of +him. Frank's most successful pitch was a slow, +tantalizing curve, and he used it. Blandy lunged +at the ball, missed it and grunted. + +``Frank, you got his alley,'' called Lane. + +Slugger fouled the next one high in the air +back of the plate. Sam Wickhart, the stocky +bowlegged catcher, was a fiend for running after +foul flies, and now he plunged into the crowd of +boys, knocking them right and left, and he caught +the ball. Whisner came up and hit safely over +Griffith, whereupon the Natchez supporters began +to howl. Kelly sent a grounder to Grace at short +stop. Daddy's weak player made a poor throw to +first base, so the runner was safe. Then Bo +Stranathan batted a stinging ball through the +infield, scoring Whisner. + +``Play the batter! Play the batter!'' sharply +called Daddy from the bench. + +Then Frank struck out Molloy and retired +Dundon on an easy fly. + +``Fellers, git in the game now,'' ordered Daddy, +as his players eagerly trotted in. ``Say things to +that Muckle Harris! We'll walk through this +game like sand through a sieve.'' + +Bob Irvin ran to the plate waving his bat at +Harris. + +``Put one over, you freckleface! I 've been dyin' +fer this chanst. You're on Madden's Hill now.'' + +Muckle evidently was not the kind of pitcher to +stand coolly under such bantering. Obviously he +was not used to it. His face grew red and his +hair waved up. Swinging hard, he threw the ball +straight at Bob's head. Quick as a cat, Bob +dropped flat. + +``Never touched me!'' he chirped, jumping up +and pounding the plate with his bat. ``You couldn't +hit a barn door. Come on. I'll paste one a +mile!'' + +Bob did not get an opportunity to hit, for Harris +could not locate the plate and passed him to first +on four balls. + +``Dump the first one,'' whispered Daddy in +Grace's ear. Then he gave Bob a signal to run +on the first pitch. + +Grace tried to bunt the first ball, but he missed +it. His attempt, however, was so violent that he +fell over in front of the catcher, who could not +recover in time to throw, and Bob got to second +base. At this juncture, the Madden's Hill band +of loyal supporters opened up with a mingling +of shrill yells and whistles and jangling of tin +cans filled with pebbles. Grace hit the next ball +into second base and, while he was being thrown +out, Bob raced to third. With Sam Wickhart up +it looked good for a score, and the crowd yelled +louder. Sam was awkward yet efficient, and he +batted a long fly to right field. The fielder muffed +the ball. Bob scored, Sam reached second base, +and the crowd yelled still louder. Then Lane +struck out and Mohler hit to shortstop, retiring +the side. + +Natchez scored a run on a hit, a base on balls, +and another error by Grace. Every time a ball +went toward Grace at short Daddy groaned. In +their half of the inning Madden's Hill made two +runs, increasing the score 3 to 2. + +The Madden's Hill boys began to show the +strain of such a close contest. If Daddy had +voiced aloud his fear it would have been: ``They'll +blow up in a minnit!'' Frank Price alone was +slow and cool, and he pitched in masterly style. +Natchez could not beat him. On the other hand, +Madden's Hill hit Muck Harris hard, but superb +fielding kept runners off the bases. As Daddy's +team became more tense and excited Bo Stranathan's +players grew steadier and more arrogantly +confident. Daddy saw it with distress, and he +could not realize just where Natchez had license +for such confidence. Daddy watched the game +with the eyes of a hawk. + +As the Natchez players trooped in for their +sixth inning at bat, Daddy observed a marked +change in their demeanor. Suddenly they seemed +to have been let loose; they were like a band of +Indians. Daddy saw everything. He did not miss +seeing Umpire Gale take a ball from his pocket +and toss it to Frank, and Daddy wondered if that +was the ball which had been in the play. Straightway, +however, he forgot that in the interest of the +game. + +Bo Stranathan bawled: ``Wull, Injuns, hyar's +were we do 'em. We've jest ben loafin' along. Git +ready to tear the air, you rooters!'' + +Kelly hit a wonderfully swift ball through the +infield. Bo batted out a single. Malloy got up +in the way of one of Frank's pitches, and was +passed to first base. Then, as the Natchez crowd +opened up in shrill clamor, the impending disaster +fell. Dundon hit a bounder down into the infield. +The ball appeared to be endowed with life. It +bounded low, then high and, cracking into Grace's +hands, bounced out and rolled away. The runners +raced around the bases. + +Pickens sent up a tremendous fly, the highest +ever batted on Madden's Hill. It went over Tom +Lindsay in center field, and Tom ran and ran. +The ball went so far up that Tom had time to +cover the ground, but he could not judge it. He +ran round in a little circle, with hands up in +bewilderment. And when the ball dropped it hit +him on the head and bounded away. + +``Run, you Injun, run!'' bawled Bo. ``What'd +I tell you? We ain't got 'em goin', oh, no! Hittin' +'em on the head!'' + +Bill dropped a slow, teasing ball down the third- +base line. Jake Thomas ran desperately for it, +and the ball appeared to strike his hands and run +up his arms and caress his nose and wrap itself +round his neck and then roll gently away. All the +while, the Natchez runners tore wildly about the +bases and the Natchez supporters screamed and +whistled. Muck Harris could not bat, yet he hit +the first ball and it shot like a bullet over the +infield. Then Slugger Blandy came to the plate. + +he ball he sent out knocked Grace's leg from +under him as if it were a ten-pin. Whisner +popped a fly over Tay Tay Mohler's head. Now +Tay Tay was fat and slow, but he was a sure +catch. He got under the ball. It struck his hands +and jumped back twenty feet up into the air. It +was a strangely live ball. Kelly again hit to +shortstop, and the ball appeared to start slow, +to gather speed with every bound and at last to +dart low and shoot between Grace's legs. + +``Haw! Haw!'' roared Bo. ``They've got a +hole at short. Hit fer the hole, fellers. Watch +me! Jest watch me!'' + +And he swung hard on the first pitch. The ball +glanced like a streak straight at Grace, took a +vicious jump, and seemed to flirt with the infielder's +hands, only to evade them. + +Malloy fouled a pitch and the ball hit Sam +Wickhart square over the eye. Sam's eye popped out +and assumed the proportions and color of a huge +plum. + +``Hey!'' yelled Blandy, the rival catcher. ``Air +you ketchin' with yer mug?'' + +Sam would not delay the game nor would he don +the mask. + +Daddy sat hunched on his soap-box, and, as in +a hateful dream, he saw his famous team go to +pieces. He put his hands over his ears to shut out +some of the uproar. And he watched that little +yarn ball fly and shoot and bound and roll to +crush his fondest hopes. Not one of his players +appeared able to hold it. And Grace had holes +in his hands and legs and body. The ball went +right through him. He might as well have been +so much water. Instead of being a shortstop he +was simply a hole. After every hit Daddy saw +that ball more and more as something alive. It +sported with his infielders. It bounded like a +huge jack-rabbit, and went swifter and higher at +every bound. It was here, there, everywhere. + +And it became an infernal ball. It became +endowed with a fiendish propensity to run up a +player's leg and all about him, as if trying to hide +in his pocket. Grace's efforts to find it were +heartbreaking to watch. Every time it bounded +out to center field, which was of frequent +occurrence, Tom would fall on it and hug it as if he +were trying to capture a fleeing squirrel. Tay +Tay Mohler could stop the ball, but that was no +great credit to him, for his hands took no part in +the achievement. Tay Tay was fat and the ball +seemed to like him. It boomed into his stomach +and banged against his stout legs. When Tay saw +it coming he dropped on his knees and valorously +sacrificed his anatomy to the cause of the game. + +Daddy tried not to notice the scoring of runs +by his opponents. But he had to see them and he +had to count. Ten runs were as ten blows! After +that each run scored was like a stab in his heart. +The play went on, a terrible fusilade of wicked +ground balls that baffled any attempt to field them. +Then, with nineteen runs scored, Natchez appeared +to tire. Sam caught a foul fly, and Tay +Tay, by obtruding his wide person to the path of +infield hits, managed to stop them, and throw out +the runners. + +Score--Natchez, 21; Madden Hill, 3. + +Daddy's boys slouched and limped wearily in. + +``Wot kind of a ball's that?'' panted Tom, as +he showed his head with a bruise as large as a +goose-egg. + +``T-t-t-t-ta-ta-tay-tay-tay-tay----'' began Mohler, +in great excitement, but as he could not +finish what he wanted to say no one caught +his meaning. + +Daddy's watchful eye had never left that +wonderful, infernal little yarn ball. Daddy was +crushed under defeat, but his baseball brains still +continued to work. He saw Umpire Gale leisurely +step into the pitcher's box, and leisurely pick up +the ball and start to make a motion to put it in +his pocket. + +Suddenly fire flashed all over Daddy. + +``Hyar! Don't hide that ball!'' he yelled, in +his piercing tenor. + +He jumped up quickly, forgetting his crutch, +and fell headlong. Lane and Sam got him upright +and handed the crutch to him. Daddy began +to hobble out to the pitcher's box. + +``Don't you hide that ball. See! I've got my +eye on this game. That ball was in play, an' you +can't use the other.'' + +Umpire Gale looked sheepish, and his eyes did +not meet Daddy's. Then Bo came trotting up. + +``What's wrong, boss?'' he asked. + +``Aw, nuthin'. You're tryin' to switch balls on +me. That's all. You can't pull off any stunts on +Madden's Hill.'' + +``Why, boss, thet ball's all right. What you +hollerin' about?'' + +``Sure that ball's all right,'' replied Daddy. +``It's a fine ball. An' we want a chanst to hit it! +See?'' + +Bo flared up and tried to bluster, but Daddy cut +him short. + +``Give us our innin'--let us git a whack at that +ball, or I'll run you off Madden's Hill.'' + +Bo suddenly looked a little pale and sick. + +``Course youse can git a whack at it,'' he said, +in a weak attempt to be natural and dignified. + +Daddy tossed the ball to Harris, and as he +hobbled off the field he heard Bo calling out low +and cautiously to his players. Then Daddy was +certain he had discovered a trick. He called his +players around him. + +``This game ain't over yet. It ain't any more'n +begun. I'll tell you what. Last innin' Bo's +umpire switched balls on us. That ball was lively. +An' they tried to switch back on me. But nix! +We're goin' to git a chanst to hit that lively ball, +An' they're goin' to git a dose of their own +medicine. Now, you dead ones--come back to life! +Show me some hittin' an' runnin'.'' + +``Daddy, you mean they run in a trick on us?'' +demanded Lane, with flashing eyes. + +``Funny about Natchez's strong finishes!'' +replied Daddy, coolly, as he eyed his angry players. + +They let out a roar, and then ran for the bats. + +The crowd, quick to sense what was in the air, +thronged to the diamond and manifested alarming +signs of outbreak. + +Sam Wickhart leaped to the plate and bandished +his club. + +``Sam, let him pitch a couple,'' called Daddy +from the bench. ``Mebbe we'll git wise then.'' + +Harris had pitched only twice when the fact +became plain that he could not throw this ball +with the same speed as the other. The ball was +heavier; besides Harris was also growing tired. +The next pitch Sam hit far out over the center +fielder's head for a home run. It was a longer +hit than any Madden's Hill boy had ever made. +The crowd shrieked its delight. Sam crossed the +plate and then fell on the bench beside Daddy. + +``Say! that ball nearly knocked the bat out of +my hands,'' panted Sam. ``It made the bat +spring!'' + +``Fellers, don't wait,'' ordered Daddy. ``Don't +give the umpire a chanst to roast us now. Slam +the first ball!'' + +The aggressive captain lined the ball at Bo +Stranathan. The Natchez shortstop had a fine +opportunity to make the catch, but he made an +inglorious muff. Tay Tay hurried to bat. Umpire +Gale called the first pitch a strike. Tay +slammed down his club. ``T-t-t-t-to-to-twasn't +over,'' he cried. ``T-t-t-tay----'' + +``Shut up,'' yelled Daddy. ``We want to git +this game over today.'' + +Tay Tay was fat and he was also strong, so that +when beef and muscle both went hard against the +ball it traveled. It looked as if it were going a +mile straight up. All the infielders ran to get +under it. They got into a tangle, into which the +ball descended. No one caught it, and thereupon +the Natchez players began to rail at one another. +Bo stormed at them, and they talked back to him. +Then when Tom Lindsay hit a little slow grounder +into the infield it seemed that a just retribution +had overtaken the great Natchez team. + +Ordinarily this grounder of Tom's would have +been easy for a novice to field. But this peculiar +grounder, after it has hit the ground once, seemed +to wake up and feel lively. It lost its leisurely +action and began to have celerity. When it reached +Dundon it had the strange, jerky speed so +characteristic of the grounders that had confused the +Madden's Hill team. Dundon got his hands on +the ball and it would not stay in them. When +finally he trapped it Tom had crossed first base +and another runner had scored. Eddie Curtis +cracked another at Bo. The Natchez captain +dove for it, made a good stop, bounced after the +rolling ball, and then threw to Kelly at first. The +ball knocked Kelly's hands apart as if they had +been paper. Jake Thomas batted left handed and +he swung hard on a slow pitch and sent the ball +far into right field. Runners scored. Jake's hit +was a three-bagger. Then Frank Price hit up an +infield fly. Bo yelled for Dundon to take it and +Dundon yelled for Harris. They were all afraid +to try for it. It dropped safely while Jake ran +home. + +With the heavy batters up the excitement +increased. A continuous scream and incessant +rattle of tin cans made it impossible to hear what +the umpire called out. But that was not important, +for he seldom had a chance to call either ball +or strike. Harris had lost his speed and nearly +every ball he pitched was hit by the Madden's +Hill boys. Irvine cracked one down between short +and third. Bo and Pickens ran for it and collided +while the ball jauntily skipped out to left field +and, deftly evading Bell, went on and on. Bob +reached third. Grace hit another at Dundon, who +appeared actually to stop it four times before he +could pick it up, and then he was too late. The +doughty bow-legged Sam, with his huge black eye, +hung over the plate and howled at Muckle. In +the din no one heard what he said, but evidently +Muck divined it. For he roused to the spirit of +a pitcher who would die of shame if he could not +fool a one-eyed batter. But Sam swooped down +and upon the first ball and drove it back toward +the pitcher. Muck could not get out of the way +and the ball made his leg buckle under him. Then +that hit glanced off to begin a marvelous exhibition +of high and erratic bounding about the infield. + +Daddy hunched over his soap-box bench and +hugged himself. He was farsighted and he saw +victory. Again he watched the queer antics of that +little yarn ball, but now with different feelings. +Every hit seemed to lift him to the skies. He kept +silent, though every time the ball fooled a Natchez +player Daddy wanted to yell. And when it started +for Bo and, as if in revenge, bounded wickeder at +every bounce to skip off the grass and make Bo +look ridiculous, then Daddy experienced the +happiest moments of his baseball career. Every time +a tally crossed the plate he would chalk it down +on his soap box. + +But when Madden's Hill scored the nineteenth +run without a player being put out, then Daddy +lost count. He gave himself up to revel. He sat +motionless and silent; nevertheless his whole +internal being was in the state of wild tumult. It +was as if he was being rewarded in joy for all +the misery he had suffered because he was a cripple. +He could never play baseball. but he had +baseball brains. He had been too wise for the +tricky Stranathan. He was the coach and manager +and general of the great Madden's Hill nine. +If ever he had to lie awake at night again he would +not mourn over his lameness; he would have something +to think about. To him would be given the +glory of beating the invincible Natchez team. So +Daddy felt the last bitterness leave him. And he +watched that strange little yarn ball, with its +wonderful skips and darts and curves. The longer +the game progressed and the wearier Harris +grew, the harder the Madden's Hill boys batted +the ball and the crazier it bounced at Bo and his +sick players. Finally, Tay Tay Mohler hit a teasing +grounder down to Bo. + +Then it was as if the ball, realizing a climax, +made ready for a final spurt. When Bo reached +for the ball it was somewhere else. Dundon could +not locate it. And Kelly, rushing down to the +chase, fell all over himself and his teammates +trying to grasp the illusive ball, and all the time Tay +Tay was running. He never stopped. But as he +was heavy and fat he did not make fast time on +the bases. Frantically the outfielders ran in to +head off the bouncing ball, and when they had +succeeded Tay Tay had performed the remarkable +feat of making a home run on a ball batted into +the infield. + +That broke Natchez's spirit. They quit. They +hurried for their bats. Only Bo remained behind +a moment to try to get his yarn ball. But Sam +had pounced upon it and given it safely to Daddy. +Bo made one sullen demand for it. + +``Funny about them fast finishes of yours!'' said +Daddy scornfully. ``Say! the ball's our'n. The +winnin' team gits the ball. Go home an' look up +the rules of the game!'' + +Bo slouched off the field to a shrill hooting and +tin canning. + +``Fellers, what was the score?'' asked Daddy. + +Nobody knew the exact number of runs made +by Madden's Hill. + +``Gimme a knife, somebody,'' said the manager. + +When it had been produced Daddy laid down +the yarn ball and cut into it. The blade entered +readily for a inch and then stopped. Daddy cut +all around the ball, and removed the cover of +tightly wrapped yarn. Inside was a solid ball of +India rubber. + +``Say! it ain't so funny now--how that ball +bounced,'' remarked Daddy. + +``Wot you think of that!'' exclaimed Tom, feeling +the lump on his head. + +``T-t-t-t-t-t-t-ta-tr----'' began Tay Tay Mohler. + +``Say it! Say it!'' interrupted Daddy. + +``Ta-ta-ta-tr-trimmed them wa-wa-wa-wa-with +their own b-b-b-b-b-ba-ba-ball,'' finished Tay. + + + +OLD WELL WELL + + +He bought a ticket at the 25-cent window, and +edging his huge bulk through the turnstile, laboriously +followed the noisy crowd toward the bleachers. +I could not have been mistaken. He was Old +Well-Well, famous from Boston to Baltimore as +the greatest baseball fan in the East. His singular +yell had pealed into the ears of five hundred +thousand worshippers of the national game and would +never be forgotten. + +At sight of him I recalled a friend's baseball +talk. ``You remember Old Well-Well? He's all +in--dying, poor old fellow! It seems young Burt, +whom the Phillies are trying out this spring, is +Old Well-Well's nephew and protege. Used to +play on the Murray Hill team; a speedy youngster. +When the Philadelphia team was here last, +Manager Crestline announced his intention to play +Burt in center field. Old Well-Well was too ill +to see the lad get his tryout. He was heart-broken +and said: `If I could only see one more game!' '' + +The recollection of this random baseball gossip +and the fact that Philadelphia was scheduled to +play New York that very day, gave me a sudden +desire to see the game with Old Well-Well. I did not +know him, but where on earth were introductions +as superfluous as on the bleachers? It was a very +easy matter to catch up with him. He walked +slowly, leaning hard on a cane and his wide shoulders +sagged as he puffed along. I was about to +make some pleasant remark concerning the prospects +of a fine game, when the sight of his face +shocked me and I drew back. If ever I had seen +shadow of pain and shade of death they hovered +darkly around Old Well-Well. + +No one accompanied him; no one seemed to +recognize him. The majority of that merry crowd +of boys and men would have jumped up wild with +pleasure to hear his well-remembered yell. Not +much longer than a year before, I had seen ten +thousand fans rise as one man and roar a greeting +to him that shook the stands. So I was +confronted by a situation strikingly calculated to +rouse my curiosity and sympathy. + +He found an end seat on a row at about the +middle of the right-field bleachers and I chose +one across the aisle and somewhat behind him. +No players were yet in sight. The stands were +filling up and streams of men were filing into the +aisles of the bleachers and piling over the benches. +Old Well-Well settled himself comfortably in his +seat and gazed about him with animation. There +had come a change to his massive features. The +hard lines had softened; the patches of gray +were no longer visible; his cheeks were ruddy; +something akin to a smile shone on his face as he +looked around, missing no detail of the familiar +scene. + +During the practice of the home team Old Well- +Well sat still with his big hands on his knees; but +when the gong rang for the Phillies, he grew restless, +squirming in his seat and half rose several +times. I divined the importuning of his old habit +to greet his team with the yell that had made him +famous. I expected him to get up; I waited for +it. Gradually, however, he became quiet as a man +governed by severe self-restraint and directed his +attention to the Philadelphia center fielder. + +At a glance I saw that the player was new to +me and answered the newspaper description of +young Burt. What a lively looking athlete! He +was tall, lithe, yet sturdy. He did not need to +chase more than two fly balls to win me. His +graceful, fast style reminded me of the great Curt +Welch. Old Well-Well's face wore a rapt +expression. I discovered myself hoping Burt would +make good; wishing he would rip the boards off +the fence; praying he would break up the game. + +It was Saturday, and by the time the gong +sounded for the game to begin the grand stand +and bleachers were packed. The scene was glittering, +colorful, a delight to the eye. Around the +circle of bright faces rippled a low, merry +murmur. The umpire, grotesquely padded in front +by his chest protector, announced the batteries, +dusted the plate, and throwing out a white ball, +sang the open sesame of the game: ``Play!'' + +Then Old Well-Well arose as if pushed from his +seat by some strong propelling force. It had been +his wont always when play was ordered or in a +moment of silent suspense, or a lull in the +applause, or a dramatic pause when hearts heat high +and lips were mute, to bawl out over the listening, +waiting multitude his terrific blast: ``Well-Well- +Well!'' + +Twice he opened his mouth, gurgled and +choked, and then resumed his seat with a very +red, agitated face; something had deterred him +from his purpose, or he had been physically +incapable of yelling. + +The game opened with White's sharp bounder +to the infield. Wesley had three strikes called on +him, and Kelly fouled out to third base. The +Phillies did no better, being retired in one, two, +three order. The second inning was short and no +tallies were chalked up. Brain hit safely in the +third and went to second on a sacrifice. The +bleachers began to stamp and cheer. He reached +third on an infield hit that the Philadelphia short- +stop knocked down but could not cover in time +to catch either runner. The cheer in the grand +stand was drowned by the roar in the bleachers. +Brain scored on a fly-ball to left. A double along +the right foul line brought the second runner +home. Following that the next batter went out +on strikes. + +In the Philadelphia half of the inning young +Burt was the first man up. He stood left-handed +at the plate and looked formidable. Duveen, the +wary old pitcher for New York, to whom this new +player was an unknown quantity, eyed his easy +position as if reckoning on a possible weakness. +Then he took his swing and threw the ball. Burt +never moved a muscle and the umpire called strike. +The next was a ball, the next a strike; still Burt +had not moved. + +``Somebody wake him up!'' yelled a wag in the +bleachers. ``He's from Slumbertown, all right, all +right!'' shouted another. + +Duveen sent up another ball, high and swift. +Burt hit straight over the first baseman, a line +drive that struck the front of the right-field +bleachers. + +``Peacherino!'' howled a fan. + +Here the promise of Burt's speed was fulfilled. +Run! He was fleet as a deer. He cut through +first like the wind, settled to a driving strides +rounded second, and by a good, long slide beat +the throw in to third. The crowd, who went to +games to see long hits and daring runs, gave him +a generous hand-clapping. + +Old Well-Well appeared on the verge of apoplexy. +His ruddy face turned purple, then black; +he rose in his seat; he gave vent to smothered +gasps; then he straightened up and clutched his +hands into his knees. + +Burt scored his run on a hit to deep short, an +infielder's choice, with the chances against retiring +a runner at the plate. Philadelphia could not +tally again that inning. New York blanked in the +first of the next. For their opponents, an error, +a close decision at second favoring the runner, +and a single to right tied the score. Bell of New +York got a clean hit in the opening of the fifth. +With no one out and chances for a run, the +impatient fans let loose. Four subway trains in +collision would not have equalled the yell and stamp +in the bleachers. Maloney was next to bat and +he essayed a bunt. This the fans derided with +hoots and hisses. No team work, no inside ball +for them. + +``Hit it out!'' yelled a hundred in unison. + +``Home run!'' screamed a worshipper of long +hits. + +As if actuated by the sentiments of his admirers +Maloney lined the ball over short. It looked good +for a double; it certainly would advance Bell to +third; maybe home. But no one calculated on +Burt. His fleetness enabled him to head the +bounding ball. He picked it up cleanly, and +checking his headlong run, threw toward third base. +Bell was half way there. The ball shot straight +and low with terrific force and beat the runner to +the bag. + +``What a great arm!'' I exclaimed, deep in my +throat. ``It's the lad's day! He can't be +stopped.'' + +The keen newsboy sitting below us broke the +amazed silence in the bleachers. + +``Wot d'ye tink o' that?'' + +Old Well-Well writhed in his seat. To him if +was a one-man game, as it had come to be for me. +I thrilled with him; I gloried in the making good +of his protege; it got to be an effort on my part +to look at the old man, so keenly did his emotion +communicate itself to me. + +The game went on, a close, exciting, brilliantly +fought battle. Both pitchers were at their best. +The batters batted out long flies, low liners, and +sharp grounders; the fielders fielded these difficult +chances without misplay. Opportunities came +for runs, but no runs were scored for several +innings. Hopes were raised to the highest pitch +only to be dashed astonishingly away. The crowd +in the grand stand swayed to every pitched ball; +the bleachers tossed like surf in a storm. + +To start the eighth, Stranathan of New York +tripled along the left foul line. Thunder burst +from the fans and rolled swellingly around the +field. Before the hoarse yelling, the shrill +hooting, the hollow stamping had ceased Stranathan +made home on an infield hit. Then bedlam broke +loose. It calmed down quickly, for the fans sensed +trouble between Binghamton, who had been +thrown out in the play, and the umpire who was +waving him back to the bench. + +``You dizzy-eyed old woman, you can't see +straight!'' called Binghamton. + +The umpire's reply was lost, but it was evident +that the offending player had been ordered out of +the grounds. + +Binghamton swaggered along the bleachers +while the umpire slowly returned to his post. The +fans took exception to the player's objection and +were not slow in expressing it. Various witty +enconiums, not to be misunderstood, attested to +the bleachers' love of fair play and their disgust +at a player's getting himself put out of the game +at a critical stage. + +The game proceeded. A second batter had been +thrown out. Then two hits in succession looked +good for another run. White, the next batter, +sent a single over second base. Burt scooped the +ball on the first bounce and let drive for the plate. +It was another extraordinary throw. Whether +ball or runner reached home base first was most +difficult to decide. The umpire made his sweeping +wave of hand and the breathless crowd caught +his decision. + +``Out!'' + +In action and sound the circle of bleachers +resembled a long curved beach with a mounting +breaker thundering turbulently high. + +``Rob--b--ber--r!'' bawled the outraged fans, +betraying their marvelous inconsistency. + +Old Well-Well breathed hard. Again the +wrestling of his body signified an inward strife. I +began to feel sure that the man was in a mingled +torment of joy and pain, that he fought the maddening +desire to yell because he knew he had not +the strength to stand it. Surely, in all the years +of his long following of baseball he had never had +the incentive to express himself in his peculiar +way that rioted him now. Surely, before the game +ended he would split the winds with his wonderful +yell. + +Duveen's only base on balls, with the help of +a bunt, a steal, and a scratch hit, resulted in a run +for Philadelphia, again tying the score. How the +fans raged at Fuller for failing to field the lucky +scratch. + +``We had the game on ice!'' one cried. + +``Get him a basket!'' + +New York men got on bases in the ninth and +made strenuous efforts to cross the plate, but it +was not to be. Philadelphia opened up with two +scorching hits and then a double steal. Burt came +up with runners on second and third. Half the +crowd cheered in fair appreciation of the way fate +was starring the ambitious young outfielder; the +other half, dyed-in-the-wool home-team fans, bent +forward in a waiting silent gloom of fear. Burt +knocked the dirt out of his spikes and faced +Duveen. The second ball pitched he met fairly and +it rang like a bell. + +No one in the stands saw where it went. But +they heard the crack, saw the New York shortstop +stagger and then pounce forward to pick up the +ball and speed it toward the plate. The catcher +was quick to tag the incoming runner, and then +snap the ball to first base, completing a double +play. + +When the crowd fully grasped this, which was +after an instant of bewilderment, a hoarse crashing +roar rolled out across the field to bellow back +in loud echo from Coogan's Bluff. The grand +stand resembled a colored corn field waving in a +violent wind; the bleachers lost all semblance of +anything. Frenzied, flinging action--wild chaos +--shrieking cries--manifested sheer insanity of +joy. + +When the noise subsided, one fan, evidently +a little longer-winded than his comrades, cried out +hysterically: + +``O-h! I don't care what becomes of me-- +now-w!'' + +Score tied, three to three, game must go ten +innings--that was the shibboleth; that was the +overmastering truth. The game did go ten innings-- +eleven--twelve, every one marked by masterly +pitching, full of magnificent catches, stops +and throws, replete with reckless base-running +and slides like flashes in the dust. But they were +unproductive of runs. Three to three! Thirteen +innings! + +``Unlucky thirteenth,'' wailed a superstitious +fan. + +I had got down to plugging, and for the first +time, not for my home team. I wanted Philadelphia +to win, because Burt was on the team. With +Old Well-Well sitting there so rigid in his seat, +so obsessed by the playing of the lad, I turned +traitor to New York. + +White cut a high twisting bounder inside the +third base, and before the ball could be returned +he stood safely on second. The fans howled with +what husky voice they had left. The second hitter +batted a tremendously high fly toward center field. +Burt wheeled with the crack of the ball and raced +for the ropes. Onward the ball soared like a sailing +swallow; the fleet fielder ran with his back to +the stands. What an age that ball stayed in the +air! Then it lost its speed, gracefully curved and +began to fall. Burt lunged forward and upwards; +the ball lit in his hands and stuck there as he +plunged over the ropes into the crowd. White +had leisurely trotted half way to third; he saw the +catch, ran back to touch second and then easily +made third on the throw-in. The applause that +greeted Burt proved the splendid spirit of the +game. Bell placed a safe little hit over short, +scoring White. Heaving, bobbing bleachers-- +wild, broken, roar on roar! + +Score four to three--only one half inning left +for Philadelphia to play--how the fans rooted for +another run! A swift double-play, however, ended +the inning. + +Philadelphia's first hitter had three strikes +called on him. + +``Asleep at the switch!'' yelled a delighted fan. + +The next batter went out on a weak pop-up fly +to second. + +``Nothin' to it!'' + +``Oh, I hate to take this money!'' + +``All-l o-over!'' + +Two men at least of all that vast assemblage +had not given up victory for Philadelphia. I had +not dared to look at Old Well-Well for a long, +while. I dreaded the nest portentious moment. +I felt deep within me something like clairvoyant +force, an intangible belief fostered by hope. + +Magoon, the slugger of the Phillies, slugged +one against the left field bleachers, but, being +heavy and slow, he could not get beyond second +base. Cless swung with all his might at the first +pitched ball, and instead of hitting it a mile as +he had tried, he scratched a mean, slow, teasing +grounder down the third base line. It was as +safe as if it had been shot out of a cannon. Magoon +went to third. + +The crowd suddenly awoke to ominous possibilities; +sharp commands came from the players' +bench. The Philadelphia team were bowling and +hopping on the side lines, and had to be put down +by the umpire. + +An inbreathing silence fell upon stands and +field, quiet, like a lull before a storm. + +When I saw young Burt start for the plate and +realized it was his turn at bat, I jumped as if I +had been shot. Putting my hand on Old Well- +Well's shoulder I whispered: ``Burt's at bat: +He'll break up this game! I know he's going to +lose one!'' + +The old fellow did not feel my touch; he did not +hear my voice; he was gazing toward the field +with an expression on his face to which no human +speech could render justice. He knew what was +coming. It could not be denied him in that moment. + +How confidently young Burt stood up to the +plate! None except a natural hitter could have +had his position. He might have been Wagner +for all he showed of the tight suspense of that +crisis. Yet there was a tense alert poise to his +head and shoulders which proved he was alive to +his opportunity. + +Duveen plainly showed he was tired. Twice he +shook his head to his catcher, as if he did not +want to pitch a certain kind of ball. He had to +use extra motion to get his old speed, and he +delivered a high straight ball that Burt fouled over +the grand stand. The second ball met a similar +fate. All the time the crowd maintained that +strange waiting silence. The umpire threw out a +glistening white ball, which Duveen rubbed in the +dust and spat upon. Then he wound himself up +into a knot, slowly unwound, and swinging with +effort, threw for the plate. + +Burt's lithe shoulders swung powerfully. The +meeting of ball and bat fairly cracked. The low +driving hit lined over second a rising glittering +streak, and went far beyond the center fielder. + +Bleachers and stands uttered one short cry, +almost a groan, and then stared at the speeding +runners. For an instant, approaching doom could +not have been more dreaded. Magoon scored. +Cless was rounding second when the ball lit. If +Burt was running swiftly when he turned first he +had only got started, for then his long sprinter's +stride lengthened and quickened. At second he +was flying; beyond second he seemed to merge +into a gray flitting shadow. + +I gripped my seat strangling the uproar within +me. Where was the applause? The fans were +silent, choked as I was, but from a different cause. +Cless crossed the plate with the score that +defeated New York; still the tension never laxed +until Burt beat the ball home in as beautiful a run +as ever thrilled an audience. + +In the bleak dead pause of amazed disappointment +Old Well-Well lifted his hulking figure and +loomed, towered over the bleachers. His wide +shoulders spread, his broad chest expanded, his +breath whistled as he drew it in. One fleeting +instant his transfigured face shone with a glorious +light. Then, as he threw back his head and +opened his lips, his face turned purple, the muscles +of his cheeks and jaw rippled and strung, the veins +on his forehead swelled into bulging ridges. Even +the back of his neck grew red. + +``Well!--Well!--Well!!!'' + +Ear-splitting stentorian blast! For a moment +I was deafened. But I heard the echo ringing +from the cliff, a pealing clarion call, beautiful and +wonderful, winding away in hollow reverberation, +then breaking out anew from building to +building in clear concatenation. + +A sea of faces whirled in the direction of that +long unheard yell. Burt had stopped statue-like +as if stricken in his tracks; then he came running, +darting among the spectators who had leaped the +fence. + +Old Well-Well stood a moment with slow glance +lingering on the tumult of emptying bleachers, on +the moving mingling colors in the grand stand, +across the green field to the gray-clad players. +He staggered forward and fell. + +Before I could move, a noisy crowd swarmed +about him, some solicitous, many facetious. +Young Burt leaped the fence and forced his way +into the circle. Then they were carrying the old +man down to the field and toward the clubhouse. +I waited until the bleachers and field were +empty. When I finally went out there was a crowd +at the gate surrounding an ambulance. I caught +a glimpse of Old Well-Well. He lay white and +still, but his eyes were open, smiling intently. +Young Burt hung over him with a pale and agitated +face. Then a bell clanged and the ambulance +clattered away. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Etext of The Redheaded Outfield by Zane Grey + |