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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

+

+

+Title: Weatherby's Inning

+       A Story of College Life and Baseball

+

+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+Illustrator: C. M. Relyea

+

+Release Date: March 15, 2014 [EBook #45142]

+

+Language: English

+

+Character set encoding: UTF-8

+

+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEATHERBY'S INNING ***

+

+

+

+

+Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed

+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+WEATHERBY’S INNING

+

+

+

+

+BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.

+

+Each, 12mo, Cloth, Illustrated.

+

+

+Weatherby’s Inning.

+

+Illustrated in Colors. $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+Behind the Line.

+

+A Story of School and Football. $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+Captain of the Crew.

+

+$1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+For the Honor of the School.

+

+A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport. $1.50.

+

+

+The Half-Back.

+

+A Story of School, Football, and Golf. $1.50.

+

+

+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

+

+

+

+

+[Illustration: Perkins was speeding for second.]

+

+

+

+

+  WEATHERBY’S INNING

+

+  A Story of College

+  Life and Baseball

+

+  BY

+  RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

+

+  AUTHOR OF BEHIND THE LINE,

+  THE HALF-BACK, ETC.

+

+

+  _Illustrated by C. M. Relyea_

+

+

+  [Illustration]

+

+

+  New York

+  D. Appleton and Company

+  1903

+

+

+

+

+  COPYRIGHT, 1903

+  BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

+

+

+_Published September, 1903_

+

+

+

+

+  TO

+  ALFRED LOUIS BAURY

+  AGED ELEVEN

+

+  YOUNGEST AND MOST LENIENT

+  OF CRITICS

+

+

+

+

+CONTENTS

+

+

+ CHAPTER                                   PAGE

+     I.--COWARD!                              1

+    II.--AN INTERRUPTION                     11

+   III.--MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF      19

+    IV.--CATCHER AND PITCHER                 30

+     V.--AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD            39

+    VI.--IN DISGRACE                         47

+   VII.--AT THE BATTING NETS                 57

+  VIII.--THE LAST STRAW                      68

+    IX.--ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE        80

+     X.--FLIGHT                              94

+    XI.--ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT          106

+   XII.--A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER              120

+  XIII.--JOE IS PESSIMISTIC                 127

+   XIV.--THE MASS-MEETING                   139

+    XV.--ANTHONY ON BASEBALL                148

+   XVI.--JACK COURTS THE MUSE               156

+  XVII.--ERSKINE _vs._ HARVARD              167

+ XVIII.--JACK AT SECOND                     176

+   XIX.--ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET             184

+    XX.--STOLEN PROPERTY                    194

+   XXI.--OFF TO COLLEGETOWN                 203

+  XXII.--AT THE END OF THE SIXTH            213

+ XXIII.--A TRIPLE PLAY                      223

+  XXIV.--WEATHERBY’S INNING                 239

+

+

+

+

+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

+

+

+                                                               FACING

+                                                                 PAGE

+

+  Perkins was speeding for second.               _Frontispiece_

+  He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.                7

+  Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.                         47

+  “What’s wrong, Weatherby?”                                       99

+  Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf.      238

+  With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.                       246

+

+

+

+

+WEATHERBY’S INNING

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER I

+

+COWARD!

+

+

+    UNIVERSITY BASEBALL.--All men who wish to try for the team

+    report in the cage on Monday, February 25th, at 3.30 sharp.

+

+    JOS. L. PERKINS, _Capt._

+

+Jack Weatherby, on his way out of the gymnasium, paused before the

+bulletin-board in the little drafty hall and read the call.

+

+“That’s next Monday,” he muttered. “All right, I’ll be there.”

+

+Then, putting a shoulder against the big oak door, he pushed his way

+out on to the granite steps and stood there a moment in scowling

+contemplation of the cheerless scene. Before him the board-walk was

+almost afloat in a shallow rivulet of melted snow that filled the

+gravel-path from side to side. A few steps away the path ended at the

+Washington Street gate in a veritable lake. The crossing was inches

+deep in water and the Common was a dismal waste of pools and streams

+out of which the soldiers’ monument reared itself as though agonizedly

+searching for a dry spot to which to move. There was an incessant and

+monotonous dripping and trickling and gurgling as the snow, which

+two days before had covered the ground to a depth of over a foot,

+disappeared as by magic under the breath of an unseasonable south wind.

+The sky was leaden and lowering, and against it the bare branches of

+the numberless elm-trees swayed complainingly. The Common and so much

+of the college grounds as was in sight were deserted. Altogether it was

+a dispiriting prospect that met Jack’s eyes, and one little likely to

+aid him in the task of fighting the “blues,” which had oppressed him

+all day.

+

+He went listlessly down the steps, heroically striving to whistle a

+tune. But the tune had died out ere the sidewalk was reached. He looked

+with misgiving from the crossing to his shoes--shoes which even when

+new had been scarcely adapted to wet weather--and after a moment of

+hesitation gave up the idea of taking the usual short cut across the

+Common, and went on down Washington Street. As he began to pick his

+way gingerly across the wet pavement at the corner of Elm Street, two

+men ran down the steps of a boarding-house. They were talking in high,

+excited tones, and Jack could hear them until they had gone some

+distance toward the railroad.

+

+“The water’s away up to the road, they say,” one of them declared

+loudly, “and it’s still rising. They’re afraid the bridge’ll go.

+There’s a lot of ice coming down.”

+

+“Should think it might go,” said the other. “The old thing looks as

+though you could push it over if you tried.”

+

+“Yes, don’t it? Let’s get a move on. We had a flood once up home

+that----”

+

+Then a heavy gust of wind, sweeping around the corner of the

+tumble-down livery-stable, drowned the conversation. Jack paused

+and silently weighed the respective attractions of a dark and not

+overcomfortable room in the green-shuttered house a few steps away,

+and a swollen river which might, if there was any such thing as good

+luck--which he had begun to doubt--sweep away the tottering old wooden

+bridge. Well, his feet were already wet, and so-- He retraced his steps

+to the corner and went on down Washington Street in the wake of the

+others. They were a block or so ahead, splashing their thick boots

+through all kinds of puddles. They were evidently the best of friends,

+for one kept his hand on the other’s shoulder. Once the prankish wind

+bore a scrap of merry laughter up the street, and Jack, plodding along

+behind, wary of puddles, as befits a fellow who is wearing his only

+pair of winter shoes, heard it and felt gloomier and more forlorn than

+ever.

+

+He wondered what it was like to have real friends and a chum; to be

+well known and liked. He had come to Erskine College in September fully

+expecting such things to fall to his share. But he had been there five

+months now and during that time his life had been very lonely. At

+first he had tried to make friends in a diffident way. Perhaps he had

+tried with the wrong men; perhaps his manner had been against him; the

+result had been discouraging, and after a while, smarting under what to

+his oversensitive feelings seemed rebuffs, he had ceased looking for

+friends and had retired into a shell of pessimism and injured pride,

+masking his loneliness under simulated indifference. Since then he had

+undoubtedly lost many a chance to find the companionship he craved; but

+he had learned his lesson, he told himself bitterly, and so he rejected

+advances as though they were the deadliest of insults.

+

+He didn’t look the least bit like a misanthrope. He was seventeen years

+old, large for his age, lithe, muscular and healthy-looking, as is

+proper in a boy who has never been pampered, with a face which even at

+the present moment, in spite of the expression of settled bitterness

+that marred it, was eminently attractive. His eyes were well apart and

+gray in color; his hair was light brown, and his mouth, which of late

+had formed the unfortunate habit of wearing a little supercilious sneer

+in public, looked generous and honest, and, with the firmly rounded

+chin beneath, suggested force and capability. On the whole he was a

+clean-cut, manly-looking boy to whom fortune, you would have said, owed

+much.

+

+When Jack Weatherby reached the river he found that the report of

+its depredations was not exaggerated. To be sure, River Street was

+still above water, but the flood was well over the bank in places,

+and farther along, in front of the coal-yards, several of the wharves

+were awash. The broad stream, usually a quiet, even sluggish body, was

+sending up a new sound, a low, threatening roar which, without his

+having realized it, had reached Jack’s ears long before he had sighted

+the river.

+

+He wormed his way through the crowd of townfolk that lined the

+street, and, passing through an empty coal-pocket, found himself on a

+spray-drenched string-piece a foot above the water. To his right and

+left piers ran some distance into the river. They were untenanted. But

+beyond them the open spaces used by the coal company as storage ground

+for wagons were black with watchers. A short way off was the bridge,

+a low, wooden structure connecting Centerport with the little village

+of Kirkplain across the river. Jack was on the up-stream side of the

+bridge and could see the havoc that the drifting ice was making with

+the worn spiling and hear the crashing and grinding as cake after cake

+was hurled and jammed against it. Several of the supports were already

+broken, and the entrance to the bridge was barred with a rope and

+guarded by a member of Centerport’s small police force.

+

+Jack drew back as far as he could from the edge of the beam and with

+his shoulders against the boards of the big bin watched in strange

+fascination the black, angry water rushing past. It frightened and

+repelled him, and yet he found it difficult to remove his gaze. For as

+long as he could remember he had been afraid of water. Once, when he

+was only five years old, he had fallen into the brook that crossed his

+father’s farm and had almost drowned before his mother, hastening after

+the runaway, had dragged him out. His recollection of the escapade was

+very hazy, but it had left him with a dread of water that was almost a

+mania. All efforts to combat it had proved futile. He had never learned

+to swim, and had never in all his life trusted himself in a boat. And

+yet, as a boy, he had devoured ravenously all the stories of the sea he

+could lay hands on, and had shuddered over shipwrecks and similar

+disasters, at once repelled and fascinated.

+

+Suddenly his contemplation of the river was disturbed by shouts of

+alarm from up-stream. With an effort he withdrew his gaze from the

+water and looked in the direction of the cries. At that instant, around

+the corner of the pier to his right, floated something that thrashed

+the water wildly and sent up shrill appeals for help. After the first

+second of bewilderment Jack saw that it was a boy of thirteen or

+fourteen years. The white face, horribly drawn with terror, turned

+toward him, and, for an instant, the frightened, staring eyes looked

+into his. Jack sickened and groped blindly for support. A trick of the

+current shot the struggling body into the little harbor afforded by the

+two piers, almost at his feet. In his ears was a meaningless babel of

+shouts and in his heart an awful fear. He leaned back with outstretched

+hands clinging to the planks behind him and closed his eyes to avoid

+the sight of the appealing face below. Then, with a gasp, he sank to

+his knees, seized the string-piece with one hand, and with the other

+reached downward. But he was too late. The current, sweeping out again,

+had already borne the boy beyond reach. There was a final despairing

+shriek, then the arms ceased to struggle and the eddies closed over

+the body. Jack joined his voice impotently with the others and looked

+wildly about for a plank or a rope--anything that he could throw into

+the water. But there was nothing. Sick and dizzy he subsided against

+the timbers.

+

+[Illustration: He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.]

+

+Then, just at the corner of the down-stream wharf, the body came to the

+surface again, the eyes sightless, the lips silent. And, almost too

+late, came help.

+

+Jack, leaning near the opening in the coal-bin, felt rather than saw

+some one push by him. The rescuer, a man several years Jack’s senior,

+had discarded his coat and vest, and now, stooping and placing a hand

+lightly on the string-piece, he dropped into the water. A half dozen

+strokes took him to the end of the pier, and just as the drowning boy

+was again sinking he caught him. Turning, he struck out toward Jack,

+swimming desperately against the swirling current. For a minute it

+was difficult work; then he reached stiller water, and Jack, leaning

+over the edge, stretched forth eager hands to help. But ere he could

+do so he was pushed aside, narrowly saving himself from pitching head

+foremost into the water, and a middle-aged man, whom Jack a moment

+later saw to be Professor White, relieved the rescuer of his burden.

+

+By that time the narrow foothold along the edge of the river was

+thronged with students and townfolk. Quickly the apparently lifeless

+body was borne past them through the yard and into a small office.

+Jack, trembling in every limb, followed. But near the door he suddenly

+became aware of a hostile atmosphere. The crowd, which had grown every

+minute, were observing him curiously, contemptuously, muttering and

+whispering. The blood rushed into his face and then receded, leaving it

+deathly pale. For a moment he faced them. Then a small boy somewhere on

+the edge of the throng sent up a shrill cry:

+

+“That’s him! That’s the feller that didn’t make no try ter save him!

+’Fraid of wettin’ his feet, he was!”

+

+Jack looked about him and read in the faces that confronted him only

+merciless condemnation. Something in his throat hurt him and refused

+to be dislodged. With head up he turned and made his way through the

+crowd, the old sneer on his lips. But there was worse in store. He felt

+a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Professor White beside him.

+

+“What’s your name?” asked the professor sternly.

+

+“Weatherby, sir,” muttered Jack.

+

+“Are you a student?”

+

+“Yes, sir.”

+

+“What class?”

+

+“Six.”

+

+The professor looked at him searchingly, then dropped the hand from his

+shoulder.

+

+“I find that hard to believe,” he said contemptuously. “I didn’t think

+we had any cowards here at Erskine!”

+

+He turned away, and Jack, after a moment of hesitation, a moment in

+which his first inclination to protest against the injustice of the

+verdict was drowned in a sudden dumbing surge of anger, made his way

+out of the throng and stumbled back to his room through the gathering

+twilight.

+

+[Illustration: PLAN OF ERSKINE COLLEGE AND THE TOWN OF CENTERPORT 1901]

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER II

+

+AN INTERRUPTION

+

+

+Erskine College, at Centerport, is not large. Like many another New

+England college its importance lies rather in its works than in wealth

+or magnificence. Its enrolment in all departments at the time of which

+I write was about 600. I am not going to describe the college, it would

+take too long; and besides, it has been done very frequently and very

+well, and if the reader, after studying the accompanying plan, which

+is reproduced with the kind permission of the authorities, feels the

+need of further description, I would respectfully refer him to Balcom’s

+Handbook of Erskine (photographically illustrated) and May’s History of

+Erskine College. And if in connection with these he examines the annual

+catalogue he will know about all there is to be known of the subject.

+

+Leaving Washington Street and going west on Elm Street, he will find,

+facing the apex of the Common, a small white frame cottage profusely

+adorned with blinds of a most vivid green. That is Mrs. Dorlon’s. It

+is by far the tiniest of the many boarding- and lodging-houses that

+line the outer curve of Elm Street, and, as might be supposed, its

+rooms are few and not commodious. Mrs. Dorlon, a small, middle-aged

+widow, with a perpetual cold in the head, reserves the lower floor for

+her own use and rents the two up-stairs rooms to students. Between

+these second-floor apartments there is little to choose. The western

+one gets the afternoon sunlight, while the one on the other side of

+the hall gets none. To make up for this, however, the eastern room is,

+or was, at the time of my story, the proud possessor of a register,

+supposed, somewhat erroneously, to conduct warm air into the apartment;

+while the western room, to use the language of Mrs. Dorlon, was “het by

+gas.”

+

+Aside from these differences, apparent rather than real, the two

+chambers were similar. In each there was a strip of narrow territory

+in which it was possible to stand upright, flanked on either side

+by abruptly sloping ceilings whose flaking expanses were broken by

+dormer-windows, admitting a little light and a deal of cold. It was the

+eastern room that Jack Weatherby at present called home, a feat which

+implied the possession of a great deal of imagination on his part. For

+when, having escaped the hostile throng by the river and made his way

+up Washington into Elm Street, and so to the house with the painfully

+green blinds, the room in which he found himself didn’t look the least

+bit in the world like home.

+

+The iron cot-bed, despite its vivid imitation Bagdad covering, failed

+to deceive the beholder into mistaking it for a Turkish divan. The

+faded and threadbare ingrain carpet, much too small to cover the

+floor, was of a chilly, inhospitable shade of blue. The occupant

+had made little attempt at decoration, partly because the amount of

+wall space adapted to pictures was extremely limited, partly because

+from the first the cheerless ugliness of the room discouraged him.

+The green-topped study table near the end window was a sorry piece

+of furniture. Former users had carved cabalistic designs into the

+walnut rim and adorned the imitation leather covering with even

+more mysterious figures; there were evidences, too, of overturned

+ink-bottles. A yellow-grained wardrobe beside the door leaned wearily

+against the supporting angle of the ceiling.

+

+The brightest note in the room was a patent rocker upholstered in vivid

+green and yellow Brussels carpet. If we except a walnut book-shelf

+hanging beside the end window and a wash-stand jammed under one dormer,

+the enumeration of the furnishings is complete. Even on days when the

+sun shone against the white gable of the next house, the apartment

+could scarcely be called cheerful, and this afternoon with the evening

+shadows closing down and the wind whipping the branches of the elms

+outside and buffeting the house until it creaked complainingly, the

+room was forlorn to a degree.

+

+After slamming the door behind him Jack tossed aside his cap, and

+subsiding into the rocker stretched his legs and stared miserably

+through the window into a swaying world of gray branches and darkening

+sky. The overmastering anger that had sent him striding home as

+though pursued dwindled away and left in its place a loneliness and

+discouragement that hurt like a physical pain. Things had been bad

+before, he thought, but now, branded in public a coward and despised

+by his fellows, life would be unbearable! He pictured the glances

+of contempt that would meet him on the morrow in hall and yard, or

+wherever he went, and groaned. He recalled the professor’s biting

+words: “I didn’t think we had any cowards here at Erskine!” and

+clenched his hands in sudden overmastering rage. The injustice of it

+maddened him. Would Professor White, he asked himself, have gone into

+the river after the drowning boy if, like himself, he were unable to

+swim a stroke and sickened at the mere thought of contact with the icy

+flood?

+

+Presently his thoughts reverted to the morrow and the punishment

+he must undergo. His courage faltered, and the alternative, that of

+packing his few things there and then and leaving college by an early

+train in the morning, seemed the only course possible. Well, he would

+do it. It would mean disappointment to his parents and a loss of money

+they could ill afford. To him it would mean five months of study

+wasted. But better that than staying on there despised and ridiculed,

+to be pointed out behind his back as The Coward.

+

+With a gasp he leaped to his feet, his cheeks tingling and his eyes

+moist with sudden tears. The room was in darkness. He fumbled over

+the desk until he found the match-box. When the gas was lighted he

+remembered the condition of his feet, and drawing a chair before the

+register he removed his wet shoes and placed them against the warm

+grating that they might dry overnight. His battered silver watch showed

+the time to be a few minutes before six. He found dry socks, and

+drawing them over his chilled feet donned a pair of carpet slippers.

+Then he washed for supper, bathing his flushed face over and over,

+and got back into his coat just as a weak-voiced bell below summoned

+the small household to the evening meal. As he went out he noted with

+surprise that the door of the opposite room was ajar, allowing a streak

+of light to illumine the upper hall with unaccustomed radiance. The

+room had been vacant all the year, but now, evidently, Mrs. Dorlon had

+found a tenant. But the fact interested him little, for his mind was

+firmly made up, and on the morrow his own room would be for rent.

+

+When he entered the tiny dining-room Mrs. Dorlon and her daughter, a

+shy wisp of a girl some twelve or thirteen years of age, were already

+seated at the table. Jack muttered greetings and applied himself

+silently to the cold meat and graham bread which, with crab-apple jelly

+and weak tea, comprised the meal. But his hostess was plainly elated,

+and after a few pregnant snuffles the secret was out. The western

+chamber was rented!

+

+“And such a nice, pleasant-mannered young man he is,” she declared. “A

+Mr. Tidball, a junior. Perhaps you have met him?”

+

+Jack shook his head.

+

+“Well, I’m sure you’ll like him, and it’ll be real pleasant for you to

+have another student in the house. I know what it is to be alone”--she

+sniffed sadly--“since Mr. Dorlon died, and I guess you feel downright

+lonely sometimes up there. If you like I’ll introduce Mr. Tidball after

+supper?”

+

+The widow appeared to find a mild excitement at the thought, and her

+face fell when Jack begged off. “Not this evening, please,” he said.

+“I’m going to be very busy, Mrs. Dorlon.”

+

+“Oh, very well. I only thought--” What she thought he never knew, for

+excusing himself he pushed back his chair and returned to his room. As

+he closed his door he heard the new lodger whistling cheerfully and

+tunelessly across the hallway.

+

+He dragged a steamer trunk from under the bed, threw back the lid and

+unceremoniously hustled the contents on to the floor. Then he took

+a valise from the wardrobe and proceeded to pack into it what few

+belongings would serve him until he could send for his trunk. The

+latter he couldn’t take with him. In the first place, there was no way

+of getting it to the depot in time for the early train; in the second

+place, as he was not now able to pay Mrs. Dorlon the present month’s

+rent, he felt that he ought to leave something behind him as security.

+The prospect of going home raised his spirits, and he felt happier

+than he had for many months. He even hummed an air as he tramped

+busily between the wardrobe and the trunk, and the result was that

+the first knock on the door passed unheeded. After a moment the knock

+was repeated, and this time Jack heard it and paused in the act of

+spreading his Sunday trousers in the till and looked the consternation

+he felt. Who was it, he wondered. Perhaps Mrs. Dorlon come to hint

+about the rent; perhaps--but whoever it might be, Jack didn’t want

+his preparations seen. He softly closed the trunk lid and wished that

+he had locked the door. He waited silently. Perhaps the caller would

+go away. Then, as he began to think with relief that this had already

+happened, the knob turned, the door swung open, and a lean, spectacled

+face peered through the opening.

+

+“I thought maybe you didn’t hear me knock,” said a queer, drawling

+voice. “I’ve taken the room across the way, and as we’re going to be

+neighbors I thought I’d just step over and get acquainted.”

+

+The caller came in and closed the door behind him, casting an

+interested look about the shabby apartment. Jack, after an instant of

+surprise and dismay, muttered a few words of embarrassed greeting. As

+he did so he recognized in the odd, lanky figure at the door the hero

+of the accident at the river.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER III

+

+MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF

+

+

+The caller looked to be about twenty-one or two years of age. He was

+tall, thin, and angular, and carried himself awkwardly. His shoulders

+had the stoop that tells of much poring over books. His hands and

+feet were large, the former knotted and ungainly. His face was lean,

+the cheeks somewhat sunken; the nose was large and well-shapen and

+the mouth, altogether too broad, looked good-natured and humorous. He

+wore steel-rimmed spectacles, behind which twinkled a pair of small,

+pale-blue eyes, kindly and shrewd. His clothes seemed at first sight to

+belong to some one very much larger; the trousers hung in baggy folds

+about his legs and his coat went down behind his neck exposing at least

+an inch of checkered gingham shirt.

+

+And yet, despite the incongruity of his appearance, he impressed Jack

+as being a person of importance, a man who knew things and who was

+capable of turning his knowledge to good account. Tidball? Where

+had he heard the name of Tidball? As he thought of it now, the name

+seemed strangely familiar. Recollecting his duties as host, Jack pushed

+forward the patent rocker.

+

+“Won’t you sit down?” he asked.

+

+The visitor sank into the chair, bringing one big foot, loosely encased

+in a frayed leather slipper, on to one knee, and clasping it with both

+knotted hands quite as though he feared it might walk off when he

+wasn’t looking.

+

+“Queer sort of weather we’re having,” he drawled. He talked through

+his nose with a twang that proclaimed him a native of the coast. Jack

+concurred, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the cot and wondering

+whether Tidball recognized him.

+

+“Mrs. Thingamabob down-stairs said you were from Maine. Maine’s my

+State. I come from Jonesboro; ever hear of Jonesboro?”

+

+“No, I don’t believe so.” The visitor chuckled.

+

+“Never met any one who had. Guess I’m about the only resident of that

+metropolis who ever strayed out of it. There’s one fellow in our town,

+though, who went down to Portland once about forty years back. He’s

+looked on as quite a traveler in Jonesboro.”

+

+Jack smiled. “My folks live near Auburn,” he said.

+

+“Nice place, Auburn. By the way, my name’s Tidball--Anthony Z. Z stands

+for Zeno; guess I’m a sort of a Stoic myself.” The remark was lost on

+Jack, whose acquaintance with the Greek philosophers was still limited.

+

+“My name’s Weatherby,” he returned. “My first name’s Jack; I haven’t

+any middle name.”

+

+“You’re lucky,” answered the other. “They might have called you

+Xenophanes, you see.” Jack didn’t see, but he smiled doubtfully, and

+the visitor went on. “Well, now we know each other. We’re the only

+fellows in the hut and we might as well get together, eh? Guess I saw

+you this afternoon down at the river, didn’t I?”

+

+Jack flushed and nodded.

+

+“Thought so.” There was a moment’s silence, during which the visitor’s

+shrewd eyes studied Jack openly and calmly and during which all the old

+misery, forgotten for the moment, came back to the boy. Then--

+

+“Guess you can’t swim, eh?” asked the other.

+

+“No, not a stroke,” muttered Jack.

+

+“Thought so,” reiterated Tidball. There was another silence. Then Jack

+said, with an uneasy laugh:

+

+“There’s no doubt but that you can, though.”

+

+“Me? Yes, I can swim like a shark. Down in Jonesboro we learn when

+we’re a year old. Comes natural to us coasters.”

+

+“It was lucky you were there this afternoon,” said Jack.

+

+“Oh, some one else would have gone in, I guess!”

+

+“He--he didn’t--he wasn’t drowned, was he?”

+

+“The kid? No, but plaguy near it. He’s all right now, I guess. Teach

+him a lesson.”

+

+“Did the bridge go?” asked Jack after a moment, merely to break another

+silence.

+

+“No, water was going down when I left. Guess I’m in the way, though,

+ain’t I?”

+

+“In the way?”

+

+“Yes; weren’t you doing something when I came in? Packing a trunk or

+something?”

+

+“Oh, it--it doesn’t matter; there’s no hurry.”

+

+“Going home over Sunday?”

+

+“Y--yes.”

+

+“You’re lucky; wish I was. But don’t let me interrupt; go ahead and

+I’ll just sit here out of the way, if you don’t mind my staying.”

+

+“Not at all; I--I’m glad to have you.” And the odd thing about it, as

+Jack realized the next moment, was that he meant what he said. The

+visitor drew a little brier pipe from one pocket and a pouch from

+another.

+

+“Smoke?” he asked.

+

+“No,” answered Jack.

+

+“Mind if I do?”

+

+“Not a bit.” Tidball stuffed the bowl with tobacco and was soon sending

+long clouds of rankly smelling smoke into the air.

+

+“Don’t begin,” he advised. “It’s a mean habit; wastes time and money

+and doesn’t do you any good after all. Wish I didn’t.”

+

+“But couldn’t you break yourself of it?” asked Jack.

+

+Tidball chuckled again and blew a great mouthful of gray smoke toward

+the gaslight.

+

+“Don’t want to,” he answered.

+

+“Oh!” said Jack, puzzled.

+

+“Going to take your trunk?” asked the other, waving his pipe toward it.

+

+“No, just a bag. I’ll send for the trunk later.” Then, as he realized

+his mistake, the blood rushed into his cheeks. He looked up at Tidball

+and found that person eying him quizzically. “I--I mean--that----”

+

+“No harm done,” interrupted the visitor. “Thought when I came in you

+meant to cut and run. Why?”

+

+“Because--because I can’t stay,” answered Jack defiantly. “You--you

+were there and you saw it. Everybody thinks I’m a coward! Professor

+White said--said--” He choked and looked down miserably at his twisting

+fingers.

+

+“Well, you aren’t, are you?”

+

+Jack glanced up startledly.

+

+“Why--why--no, I’m not a coward!” he cried.

+

+“Didn’t think you were. You don’t look it.”

+

+Jack experienced a grateful warmth at the heart and looked shyly and

+thankfully at the queer, lean face across the room.

+

+“But--but they all think I am,” he muttered.

+

+“I wouldn’t prove them right, then, if I were you.”

+

+“Prove-- What do you mean?”

+

+“Mean I wouldn’t run away; mean I’d stay and fight it out. Any one can

+run; takes a brave man to stand and fight.”

+

+“Oh!” Jack stared wonderingly at Tidball. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

+

+“’Tisn’t too late.”

+

+“N--no,” answered Jack doubtfully. “You--think I ought to stay?”

+

+“Yes, I honestly do, Weatherby. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of;

+’twouldn’t have done any good if you’d gone into the river; guess you’d

+been drowned--’tother chap, too. White jumped at conclusions and

+landed wrong. Can’t much blame him, though. You see, the fellows here

+at Erskine come from the country, or the coast, or some small town,

+and swimming’s as natural as eating, and I guess it didn’t occur to

+them that maybe you couldn’t swim. But when they learn the truth of the

+matter----”

+

+“But they won’t know,” said Jack.

+

+“Bound to. I’ll see White myself, and I’ll tell all the chaps I know;

+’twon’t take long for the facts to get around.”

+

+“I’d rather you didn’t, if you don’t mind,” said Jack. “It’s awfully

+kind of you----”

+

+“Didn’t what?”

+

+“See Professor White.”

+

+“Well--of course, I know you’re feeling kind of sore at him, Weatherby,

+and I don’t much blame you; still, there’s no use in allowing the

+misunderstanding to continue when a word or two will set things right.”

+

+“I don’t care what he thinks,” said Jack, bitterly.

+

+“All right,” replied Tidball calmly. “How about the others?”

+

+Jack studied his hands in silence for a minute. Then he threw back his

+shoulders and got up.

+

+“You’re mighty kind,” he said, “to want to take all this trouble on

+my account, and I’m awfully much obliged to you, but--if you don’t

+mind--I’d rather you didn’t say anything to anybody.”

+

+Tidball frowned.

+

+“Then you mean to run away?” he asked disappointedly.

+

+“No, I’ll stay and--and fight! Let them think me a coward if they like;

+only some day I’ll show them I’m not!”

+

+“That’s the stuff,” said the other approvingly. “I guess you’re making

+a mistake by not explaining, but--maybe you’ll change your mind. If you

+do, let me know.”

+

+“Thanks,” answered Jack, “but I sha’n’t.” He took up his valise and

+holding it upside down emptied the contents on to the cot. “I wish

+you’d tell me one thing,” he said.

+

+“All right.”

+

+“Did you--I mean-- Well, did you just happen to come in, or--did you

+know I was--The Coward?”

+

+“Well,” drawled the other, smiling gently at a cloud of smoke, “Mrs.

+Thingamabob told me yesterday when I engaged that room that she had a

+very nice young man, a freshman named Weatherby, living with her. The

+name isn’t common, I guess, and so when I heard it again down at the

+wharf I remembered. And I just thought I’d come in and see what silly

+thing you’d decided to do. Kind of cheeky, I guess, but that’s my way.

+Hope you’re not offended?”

+

+“No, I’m awfully glad. If you hadn’t come I’d have gone away, sure as

+anything.”

+

+“Glad I came. Hope we’ll be friends. You must come over and see me.

+You won’t find things very palatial in my place, but there’s an extra

+chair, I think. I don’t go in much for luxuries. I was rooming in a

+place on Main Street until to-day; very comfortable place it was, too:

+folding-bed, lounge, rocking-chair, and a study desk with real drawers

+that locked--at least, some of them did. My roommate was a fellow named

+Gooch, from up my way. His father died a week or so ago, and yesterday

+I got a letter from him saying he’d have to leave college and buckle

+down to work. Couldn’t afford to keep the room alone, so I looked round

+and found this. Well, I must be going.”

+

+He pulled his long length out of the chair, and, producing from a

+chamois pouch a handsome big gold watch, oddly at variance with his

+shabby attire, held it nearsightedly to the dim light.

+

+“Don’t be in a hurry,” begged Jack. And then, “That’s a dandy watch you

+have,” he added. “May I see it?”

+

+“Yes,” answered Tidball, holding it forth at the length of its chain,

+“it’s the only swell thing I own. It’s a present.”

+

+“Oh!” said Jack. “Well, it’s a beauty. And it’s got a split-second

+attachment, too, hasn’t it?”

+

+“Yes, and when you press this thing here it strikes the time; hear it?

+Guess it cost a heap of money.”

+

+“It must have. Was it a prize?”

+

+“Something like that. A New York fellow gave it to me summer before

+last. He came up to Jonesboro in a steam-yacht about a thousand feet

+long. Well, I’ve got a lot of studying to do yet.” He moved toward the

+door.

+

+“But why did he give it to you?” asked Jack. “But maybe I’m asking

+impertinent questions?”

+

+“Oh, no; there’s no secret about it, only-- Well, you see, this

+steam-yacht man had his son with him, a kid of about eleven or twelve,

+I guess, and one day the kid fell out of the naphtha-launch. There was

+a good sea running, and they couldn’t get the launch about very well. I

+happened to be near there in a dory, and so I picked the youngster up.

+His daddy seemed a good deal tickled about it, and after he got home he

+sent this to me. That’s all. Some people seem to have money to burn.

+Well, good night. Glad to have met you. Come over and call as soon as

+you can.”

+

+And Anthony Z. Tidball nodded, blew a parting cloud of smoke in Jack’s

+direction, and went out, closing the door softly behind him.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER IV

+

+CATCHER AND PITCHER

+

+

+“Well, it wasn’t such a bad showing, was it?”

+

+Joe Perkins tossed his purple cap adorned with a white E on to the

+table and threw himself among the cushions of the window-seat in the

+manner of one who has earned his rest. He was a jovial-looking fellow

+of medium height, rather inclined toward stoutness. His hair was

+undeniably red, and despite that his features were good, none would

+have called him handsome. But his blue eyes were alert and his mouth

+firm. He had the quick temper popularly believed to accompany red hair,

+but it was well under control, and Joe’s usual appearance was one of

+extreme good nature. He was popular, perhaps the most popular fellow

+in college, and he knew it, and was not spoiled by the knowledge. His

+friends believed in him and he believed in himself. Perhaps it was

+the latter fact that made him such a wonderful leader. Ever since his

+freshman year he had been among the foremost in all college affairs.

+Last spring, after the disastrous 7--0 baseball game with Robinson,

+the selection of Joe, whose catching had been a feature of the contest,

+as captain, was unanimous and enthusiastic, and the supporters of the

+Purple, mourning overwhelming defeat, felt their sorrow lightened by

+the knowledge that Joe Perkins, in accepting the office, had pledged

+himself to retrieve Erskine’s lost prestige on the diamond. The whole

+college firmly believed that what Joe Perkins promised he would perform.

+

+Joe’s companion was Tracy Gilberth. Like Joe, he was a senior

+and a member of the nine. Unlike Joe, he did not impress one as

+being particularly good-natured; nor did he resemble that youth in

+appearance. He had straight dark hair and black eyes. His cheeks were

+ruddy and his mouth straight and thin. He was of middle height and

+weight, and pitched the best ball of any man in college. In age he

+was a year Joe’s senior, being twenty-three. He had none of the other

+man’s popularity, although he was not disliked. Acquaintances suspected

+him of arrogance; in talking he had a tone that sounded patronizing

+to those not used to it. His parents were immensely wealthy; rumor

+credited his father with being a millionaire several times over. At all

+events, Tracy had the most luxuriously furnished rooms at Erskine, and

+spent more money than the rest of his class put together.

+

+At the present moment he was sitting in Joe’s Morris chair with his

+hands in his pockets and his golf-stockinged legs sprawled before him.

+He replied to Joe’s question with a negligent nod that might have

+meant either assent or denial. Joe took it to express the former, and

+continued:

+

+“A heap better than last year, anyhow. Thirty candidates at this time

+of year means sixty when we get outdoors.”

+

+“Yes, but it isn’t quantity that counts, Joe,” said Tracy. “Look at the

+sort of greenies you had to-day. I’ll bet there isn’t a decent player

+among them, outside of the few last-year men that were there. If I were

+captain I’d rather have fifteen good players than fifty would-bes.”

+

+“You’re an awful croaker, Tracy. For goodness’ sake, let me be

+happy while I can. To-morrow I shall be quite ready to believe that

+to-day’s bunch is merely a lot of hopeless idiots; but this evening I

+am an optimist; I see phenomenal pitchers, star catchers, wonderful

+first-basemen, in short, an aggregation of brilliant players destined

+to wipe Robinson off the face of the earth. Leave me to my dreams, old

+man.”

+

+“All right; only when you wake up you’ll find you’ve fallen out of

+bed,” answered Tracy. “Have you heard from Hanson?”

+

+“Yes, he’s coming up Wednesday to look around.”

+

+“I hope he’ll like what he sees,” said Tracy, grimly. “I suppose

+you saw that fellow Weatherby there to-day? That chap must have the

+sensibilities of a goat. Think of his having the cheek to show up in

+the cage as a baseball candidate after what happened Friday! Why, if I

+were he I wouldn’t have the courage to show my face outside of my room.

+Not a fellow spoke to him to-day, but he didn’t seem to mind a bit.”

+

+“I spoke to him,” said Joe.

+

+“Oh, you had to!”

+

+“And I think you’re mistaken about his not caring. He kept a pretty

+stiff upper lip, but I have a hunch that he wasn’t happy.”

+

+“Happy! I should say not. If he expects to be happy as long as he stays

+at Erskine he’s going to be awfully fooled. The chap ought to be driven

+out of college.”

+

+“It’s an unfortunate affair,” answered Joe dispassionately, “and I

+don’t pretend to understand it. But I must confess that I’m a bit sorry

+for the chap. It may just be that there was some reason for his not

+going in after that boy. Maybe he got rattled; you can’t tell.”

+

+“Oh, poppycock! Maybe he was blind or asleep! Why didn’t he spunk up,

+then, and say something? He just walked off with his head in the air,

+as proud as you please, without a word. The plain fact of the matter is

+that he’s a coward clean through.”

+

+“Well--but if he is, why did he report to-day? Seems to me that took

+something a good deal like courage. He knows plaguy well what the

+college thinks of him. Great Scott, if I had been in his boots I’d no

+more have thought of coming there among all those fellows----!”

+

+“That’s what I say. He’s got just about the same sensibilities as a

+billy-goat. I dare say he’s rather proud of himself. But don’t you

+worry, Joe, you won’t be troubled with him long; we’ll soon show him

+that the baseball team doesn’t want cowards. You leave him to us, old

+man.”

+

+“No, you don’t, Tracy; you leave him to me. I’m bossing this outfit,

+and I’m quite capable of getting rid of any one I don’t want. The

+fellow says he can play ball, and it’s fellows who can play ball that

+I’m after, and not life-saving heroes.”

+

+Tracy stared across at his friend in disgust.

+

+“Well, I can tell you one thing, Joe, and that is that you’ll find that

+there will be lots of fellows who simply won’t go on to the team if you

+keep Weatherby; and one of ’em’s me!”

+

+“Nonsense,” answered the other, quite undisturbed. “Your precious

+morals aren’t going to be hurt by playing on the same acre of green

+grass as Weatherby. Nor by sitting at the same table with him, for that

+matter. At any rate, don’t get excited yet; it’s a fair guess that

+Weatherby doesn’t know enough about the game to make the team. But

+as long as he’s trying for it I won’t have him bullied.” Joe sat up

+suddenly and punched a purple and white cushion viciously. “I tell you

+candidly, old man, I’m going to turn out a winning team this spring,

+and just as long as a fellow plays good ball and does as he’s told, I

+don’t give a continental if he’s ostracized by the whole State! I gave

+my solemn word to Tom Higgins last year, after the game, that I’d win

+from Robinson, and I’m going to keep that promise!”

+

+“I’ll never forget old Tom that day. The poor duffer was crying like a

+baby all the way back to the yard. ‘You’ll be captain, Joe,’ he said,

+‘and you’ve got to promise to wipe this out. You’ve got to give me

+your word of honor, Joe.’ ‘I’ll do everything that I can, Tom,’ said

+I. And we shook hands on it. ‘If you don’t beat them next year, Joe,’

+he blubbered, ‘I’ll come back here and I’ll lick you until you can’t

+stand. I swear I will!’ And he would, too,” laughed Joe.

+

+“That’s all well enough,” answered Tracy, “but you don’t want to go too

+far, Joe; the fellows won’t stand everything even from you.”

+

+“What do you mean?”

+

+“Well, there’s lots of ’em now who think you’ve made a mistake in

+choosing Hanson for coach; you know that. They say that Hanson lost

+everything when he was captain three years ago, and that year before

+last, when he coached, we lost again. They think you should have got a

+coach who had something to show. And now if you insist on putting it on

+to the fellows with this coward, Weatherby, you’ll have to look out for

+squalls.”

+

+“Good stuff!” Joe’s blue eyes sparkled, and his mouth set itself

+straightly. “I’m open to all the squalls that come my way. I like

+squalls. And when they’ve blown over the other chaps may be surprised

+to find that they’re a considerable distance from the scene of

+operations. Oh, no, my boy, you can’t scare me by talking that way! I

+know what the fellows said--some of them, that is--about my selecting

+Hanson, and I don’t give a continental. Hanson is all right. When

+he was captain here he had the poorest lot of players that any man

+ever had to contend with; anybody who was in college will tell you

+that. They couldn’t field and they couldn’t bat; the only thing they

+could do was kick; they kicked about the schedule, and they kicked

+about the amount of work they had to do, and they kicked about the

+training-table. Nobody on earth could have won with that team. As for

+year before last, Hanson coached and we didn’t win, I know. We didn’t

+win last year, for that matter, but nobody lays the blame on the coach.

+Hanson is all right. He knows the game all through; he’s a gentleman,

+and he gives every minute of his time to the team. The best judge of

+whether what I say is true is ‘Baldy’ Simson. You go and ask ‘Baldy,’

+and if he doesn’t tell you the same thing I’ll eat my hat. And when you

+hear a trainer say that a coach is all right, there’s something in it.”

+

+“Oh, well, I don’t know much about it myself! I’m only saying what the

+fellows in general think, Joe.”

+

+“I know; there’s no harm done. Only, if there are any squalls, Tracy,

+you take your friends and get into a cellar somewhere until they’ve

+blown over,” said Joe suggestively.

+

+“Oh, I’m not scared!” Tracy replied, laughing uneasily. “I’ll stand by

+you.”

+

+“All right,” answered Joe gravely. “That’ll be safest.”

+

+There came a knock at the door, and Joe shouted, “Come in!” When

+he saw who his caller was he arose from the window-seat and stepped

+forward.

+

+“How are you, Weatherby? Want to see me?”

+

+“Yes, if you have a minute to spare.” Jack looked calmly at the

+occupant of the Morris chair, and Joe understood.

+

+“Certainly,” he answered. “Sit down.” Then, “I don’t like to put you

+out, old man,” he said, turning to Tracy, who had so far made no move

+toward withdrawing, “but I guess I’ll have to ask you to excuse me a

+moment.”

+

+“That’s all right,” replied Tracy, lazily pulling himself out of his

+seat and staring insolently at the newcomer. “I’m a bit particular,

+anyway.” He lounged to the door, carefully avoiding contact with Jack.

+“See you in the morning,” he added. “So long.”

+

+When the door had closed, Joe glanced at the caller, instinctively

+framing an apology for the insult. But Jack’s countenance gave no

+indication that he had even heard it. Joe marveled and pointed to a

+chair.

+

+“Sit down, won’t you?” he asked politely.

+

+The other shook his head.

+

+“No, thanks. What I’ve got to say will take but a minute,” he answered

+calmly.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER V

+

+AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD

+

+

+“Oh,” said Joe, vaguely, “all right.” He wondered, rather uncomfortably,

+what was coming.

+

+“It’s just this,” Jack continued. “I tried to get a word with you in

+the cage, but there was always some one around. I wanted to know if--if

+after what happened the other day at the river, you have any objection

+to my trying for the nine. You see,” he went on, hurriedly, “I know

+what the fellows call me, and I thought maybe you’d rather I didn’t

+come out. You just tell me, you know, and it’ll be all right. I won’t

+show up again.”

+

+“I see,” said Joe. “No, I haven’t the least objection; in fact, I’m

+glad to have you. I don’t pretend to judge that--affair at the river,

+Weatherby; it’s none of my business. And the fact is, I want every man

+that can play baseball to report for practise. That’s plain, isn’t it?”

+

+“Yes. I’ll keep on then for the present.”

+

+“Of course, Weatherby, I can’t guarantee that you’ll be made welcome

+by the other candidates; you can understand that. They may act

+unpleasantly, or say ugly things. I’m not able to restrain them. You’ll

+have to risk that, you know.”

+

+“I understand,” answered Jack calmly. “They’ve already called me a

+coward. I don’t believe they can say anything worse.”

+

+“No, I guess not.” Joe looked curiously at the other. Then, “I say,

+Weatherby,” he exclaimed, impulsively, “what was the trouble, anyway,

+the other day? I’ve only heard one side of it, and I fancy there’s

+another, eh?”

+

+“I’d rather not talk about it, if you please,” answered Jack coldly.

+

+“Oh, all right! I beg pardon.” Joe felt somewhat huffed. His sympathy

+for the other was for the moment snuffed out. Jack moved toward the

+door.

+

+“By the way,” said Joe, in business-like tones, “I think you told me

+you’d played ball some. Where was it?”

+

+“At home, on the high-school team. I played three years.”

+

+“What position?”

+

+“I pitched the last year. Before that I played in the outfield,

+generally at right.”

+

+“I see.” Joe’s hopes of the other’s usefulness dwindled. He had seen

+a good many cases of ambitious freshmen whose belief in themselves

+as pitchers was not justified by subsequent events. Every year there

+reported for practise a dozen or so of hopeful youngsters, who firmly

+believed themselves capable of filling all such important positions

+as pitcher and catcher, merely on the strength of having played such

+positions with more or less success on some fourth- or fifth-rate team.

+Joe mentally assigned Jack to this class of deluded ones.

+

+“Well,” he said, “of course you may count on having a fair trying-out,

+but I wouldn’t hope for too much. You see, a fellow has to be something

+of an expert to get in the box here; it’s different from playing on

+a high-school team. Besides, we’re rather well fixed for pitchers:

+there’s Gilberth and King and Knox, all of whom are first-class men.

+Of course, we want new material wherever we can find it, and if you

+prove that you can pitch good ball we’ll give you all the chance

+you want. But if I were you I’d try for something else this spring,

+for some position in the field. We’re long on pitchers and short on

+out-fielders. Of course, you could keep your hand in at twirling;

+there’d be plenty of opportunity for that at practise.”

+

+“I’ll take whatever I can get,” answered Jack. “I don’t lay any claim

+to being a wonder at pitching. I was the best we had in Auburn, but, of

+course, that doesn’t mean very much.”

+

+“Auburn, Maine? Do you live there?”

+

+“Two miles outside of town.”

+

+“Is that so? Maybe you know a cousin of mine there, Billy Cromwell? His

+father has a big tannery. He graduated from here three years ago this

+coming spring.”

+

+“I know him quite well,” replied Jack, smiling for the first time since

+he had entered the study. “It was Billy who persuaded me to come here.

+He used to tell me about Erskine a good deal. Of course, he’s seven or

+eight years older than I am, but he was always very nice to me.”

+

+“Think of that!” said Joe. “The idea of you being a friend of Billy’s!

+He’s fine chap, is Billy. What’s he doing now?”

+

+“Why, he’s assistant superintendent. Every one likes him very much, and

+he’s awfully smart, I guess. Well, I’ll report again to-morrow. I’m

+glad I saw you, and--thank you.”

+

+“Of course you’ll report. And if I can help you at any time, just let

+me know.” He opened the door and Jack passed out. “See you to-morrow,

+Weatherby.”

+

+“Yes. Good afternoon.”

+

+When Jack reached the head of the stairs he heard Joe’s voice again and

+paused.

+

+“I say, Weatherby,” the baseball captain was calling, “come around and

+see me sometimes. I want to hear more about Billy.”

+

+“Thank you,” was the non-committal reply.

+

+Joe closed the door, took up a Greek book, and went back to the

+window-seat. When he had found his place he looked at it frowningly a

+moment. “‘Thank you,’ says he,” he muttered. “As much as to say, ‘I’m

+hanged if I do!’ That youngster is a puzzle; worse than this chump,

+Pausanias!”

+

+The warm spell of Thursday and Friday had been succeeded by a drop

+in temperature that had converted the pools into sheets of ice. The

+board-walks and the paths still made treacherous going, and when, after

+leaving Sessons Hall, in which Joe Perkins roomed, Jack had several

+times narrowly avoided breaking his neck, he left the paths and struck

+off across the glistening snow toward the lower end of the yard. It was

+almost dusk, and a cold, nipping wind from the north made him turn up

+the collar of his jacket and walk briskly. There were but few fellows

+in sight, and he was glad of it. To be sure, by this time he should

+have been inured to the silently expressed contempt which he met on

+every side, to the barely audible whispers that greeted his appearance

+at class, to the meaning smiles which he often intercepted as they

+passed from one neighbor to another. Yet despite that he was schooling

+himself to bear all these things calmly, and with no outward sign of

+the sting they inflicted, he was not yet quite master of himself, and

+was grateful that the coming darkness and the well-nigh empty yard

+promised him present surcease from his trials.

+

+Until he had entered Joe Perkins’s study a quarter of an hour before

+he had met with no voicing of the public contempt. He had managed to

+accept Tracy Gilberth’s veiled insult with unmoved countenance, yet it

+had required the greatest effort of any. He didn’t know who that man

+was; he only knew, from observation in the practise-cage, that he was

+the foremost candidate for the position of pitcher, and so must be, in

+view of Perkins’s remark, either Gilberth or King or Knox. Whoever he

+was, Jack vowed, some day he would be made to regret his words. For

+although Jack was accepting his fate in silence, he was very human, and

+meant, sooner or later, to even all scores.

+

+When he had almost reached College Place and had taken to the

+board-walk again, footsteps crunching the frosty planks ahead of him

+brought his mind suddenly away from thoughts of revenge. He looked up

+and saw that the man who approached and in another moment would pass

+him was Professor White. Jack stepped off the boards and went on with

+averted eyes. The professor recognized him at that instant, and as they

+came abreast spoke.

+

+“Good evening, Weatherby.”

+

+There was no answer, nor did Jack turn his head. The professor frowned

+and stopped.

+

+“Weatherby!” he called sharply. Jack paused and faced him.

+

+“Well, sir?” he asked, quietly.

+

+“What does this mean? Are you trying to add boorishness to--to your

+other failings?”

+

+“No, sir, I was only trying to spare you the unpleasantness of speaking

+to a coward.”

+

+“Very thoughtful of you,” said the other, sarcastically. “But allow

+me to tell you, sir, that if you want to remove the--ah--the sorry

+impression you have made you will have to adopt a less high-and-mighty

+manner.”

+

+“It’s a matter of indifference to me what impression you hold, sir,”

+replied Jack simply. “Good night.”

+

+The professor stood motionless and looked after the boy until he had

+crossed the street, the anger in his face slowly fading before a

+grudging admiration of the other’s clever, if extremely impolite,

+retort. Presently he swung his green bag of books under his arm again

+and trudged on.

+

+“I wonder if I wasn’t too hasty the other day,” he muttered. “For a

+coward he’s got a surprising amount of grit, apparently. He’ll bear

+watching.”

+

+Jack sped homeward, feeling rather pleased with himself. His score

+with the professor wasn’t by any means even, but the encounter had put

+something to his credit, and as he remembered the professor’s look of

+amazement and anger he chuckled.

+

+There was a light in Tidball’s room as he crossed the corner of the

+Common, and as he looked a grotesque head showed in gigantic silhouette

+against the yellow curtain. Jack ran up the stairs and knocked at his

+neighbor’s door.

+

+“Come in!” drawled the occupant of the western chamber, and Jack

+entered on a scene that caused him to pause just inside the door and

+stare in silent surprise.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VI

+

+IN DISGRACE

+

+

+Anthony Tidball confronted Jack with a pewter spoon in one hand and a

+small tin coffee-pot in the other. He was in his shirt-sleeves and a

+bath-towel was fastened around his neck, descending in wispy folds to

+his knees. On one end of the study table a second towel was laid, and

+upon it rested a plate of bread, a jar of preserves, a wedge of cheese,

+a can of condensed milk, a bowl of sugar, and cellars containing salt

+and pepper. Besides these Jack saw a plate appropriately surrounded by

+knife, fork, and spoon, and flanked by a cup and saucer. There was a

+perceptible, and not ungrateful, odor of cooking present. Anthony waved

+the coffee-pot hospitably, but carefully, toward the rocking-chair.

+

+[Illustration: Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.]

+

+“Hello, Weatherby,” he said. “Sit down.”

+

+“Wha--what are you doing?” gasped Jack.

+

+“Cooking supper. Have some? You’re just in time.” He took the towel

+from his neck and, going to the gas-stove, used it to remove a

+pie-plate from above a tiny frying-pan.

+

+“Supper?” echoed Jack. “Do you mean that you--cook your own meals?”

+

+“Yes,” responded Anthony, calmly. He approached the table with the pan,

+and from it dexterously transferred six small sausages on to the empty

+plate. Then he put a spoonful of milk and two spoonsful of sugar into

+the bottom of the cup and filled it to the brim with steaming and very

+fragrant coffee. “Yes, I’ve been my own chef,” he continued, “ever

+since I came here. When Gooch and I were together it was a good deal

+simpler. I got breakfast and he got supper; our lunches were just cold

+things. You see, Weatherby, we’re poor folks, and I couldn’t stay in

+college three months if I had to pay four dollars a week for meals. As

+it is, it’s a close haul sometimes.”

+

+“Everything looks very nice,” murmured Jack, taking the chair and

+observing the proceedings with frank curiosity.

+

+“Well, if you don’t object, I’ll just begin operations while things are

+hot,” said Anthony. He tucked a corner of the bath-towel under his chin

+and began his repast. “There’s nothing sinful in poverty, they say,

+and of course they’re right; but it’s pretty hard sometimes not to be

+ashamed of it. I don’t tell every one that I cook my meals in my room.

+It wouldn’t do. But you were certain to find it out sooner or later,

+and it might as well be sooner. I say, would you mind turning off the

+gas over there? Thanks.”

+

+“Do you mean that you can save money this way?” asked Jack as he sat

+down again.

+

+“You better believe it. When Gooch and I kept house together our food

+cost us about one dollar and five cents apiece every week. I guess now

+it’ll cost me nearer two dollars.”

+

+“But even then you’re saving two dollars by not going to a

+boarding-house,” said Jack reassuringly.

+

+“Yes, I know,” replied Anthony, as he started on his second sausage,

+“but four dollars a week is my limit. And I’m paying more for this room

+than I did for my half of the other one. I guess I’ll have to retrench

+a while. Dad pays my tuition and I look after the rest myself. I earn

+enough in the summer taking out fishing parties and the like of that to

+last me. Last summer was a poor season, though; fish wouldn’t bite and

+folks wouldn’t go out with me. However, I got a scholarship, and that

+helped some. But I’m sailing a good deal nearer the wind than I did

+last year. And next week I’ve got to go over to Robinson, and I guess

+that will just about bankrupt me for a while.”

+

+“What are you going there for?” Jack inquired.

+

+“Debate.”

+

+“Of course!” cried the other. “I remember now! I couldn’t think where

+I’d heard your name. Why, you’re the president of the Lyceum, aren’t

+you? and the crack debater? The fellow who won for Erskine last year

+when every one expected to be beaten?”

+

+“Well, something of that sort,” replied the junior. “Anyhow, I’ve got

+to go to Robinson next week. If we’re defeated after I’ve gone and paid

+five dollars and eighty cents in railroad fares----!”

+

+Words failed him and he finished the last of the sausages with a woful

+shake of his head.

+

+“What are our chances?” asked Jack.

+

+“About the same as last year, I guess. We may and we mayn’t. Robinson’s

+got a fellow, named Heath, this year that’s a wonder, they say. We’ve

+lost Browning and Soule, and that leaves us sort of weak.”

+

+“I’d like to go,” said Jack, “but I don’t believe I could afford it.”

+

+“Wish you could,” Anthony responded heartily. “We need all the support

+we can get. If it was a football game, now, I guess the whole college

+would go along. As it is, I suppose we’ll have about two dozen beside

+the speakers. Did you ever try condensed milk with raspberry jam?”

+

+Jack had to acknowledge that he never had.

+

+“It’s right good,” said Anthony, spreading a generous spoonful of the

+mixture on a slice of bread. “If you kind of shut your eyes and don’t

+think about it the condensed milk tastes like thick cream.”

+

+Jack watched in silence a moment. Then--

+

+“I took your advice,” he announced.

+

+“Saw Perkins, you mean? What did he say?”

+

+“Said it was all right; said he was glad to have me.”

+

+“That’s good.”

+

+“And I met Professor White in the yard.”

+

+“What happened?” asked Anthony, turning his lean, spectacled face

+toward the other in evident interest. Jack recounted the conversation

+and Anthony grinned.

+

+“Pretty cheeky, though, weren’t you?”

+

+“I suppose I was,” Jack acknowledged. “But I don’t care; he had no

+business saying I was boorish. He--he’s a cad!”

+

+“Easy there! Don’t call names, Weatherby; it’s a mean way to fight.

+White’s not as bad as he seems to you. He’s made a mistake and when he

+discovers the fact he’ll be the first to acknowledge it. You’ll see.”

+

+Anthony produced his brier pipe and began to smoke.

+

+“Bother you much to-day, did they?” he asked.

+

+“Some. I can stand it, I suppose.”

+

+“They’ll get tired pretty soon and forget it,” said the other kindly.

+“Keep your hand on the tiller, take a couple of reefs in your temper,

+and watch out. There’s your supper bell.”

+

+“Yes, I must wash up. Are you going to be busy to-night?”

+

+“Not to hurt. Come in and bring your knitting.”

+

+“I will,” said Jack gratefully.

+

+The growing friendship with the new lodger was the one bright feature

+in Jack’s existence at this time, and during the next few weeks he

+frequently found himself viewing with something that was almost

+equanimity the occurrence at the river and its results, since among

+the latter was his acquaintance with Anthony Tidball. Anthony had

+hosts of acquaintances, but few friends; friends, he declared, were

+too expensive. But he adopted Jack during the first week of their

+acquaintance, and at once became guardian, mentor, and big brother all

+rolled into one. Jack went to him with his troubles--and he had a good

+many in those days--and listened to his advice, and generally acted

+upon it. It was a new and delightful experience to the younger boy to

+have a chum, and he made the most of it, resorting to Anthony’s room

+whenever he wanted society, and interrupting the junior’s studying in

+a way that would have summoned a remonstrance from any one save the

+good-hearted victim. Anthony always laid aside his books and pens,

+filled his pipe, took one foot into his lap, and listened or talked

+with unfailing good nature. And after Jack had taken himself off,

+Anthony would discard his pipe and buckle down to work in a mighty

+effort to make up for lost time, not infrequently sitting with the

+gas-stove between his knees long after the village clock had struck

+twelve, and every one else in the house was fast asleep.

+

+Sometimes they took walks together, for both were fond of being

+outdoors, and it became a common thing to see the tall, awkward junior

+striding alongside the freshman and leaning down near-sightedly to

+catch his words. For a while the college world wondered and exclaimed.

+Tidball was a person of vast importance, a queer, quiet, serious sort

+of fellow, but a master at study and debate, a man whose counsels were

+asked for and hearkened to with deep respect, and in general opinion

+a person who would be heard from in no uncertain way in the future.

+Hence, when the college saw that Tidball had taken up Weatherby, the

+college began to suspect that it had very possibly been overhasty

+in its judgment of the latter youth. Indications of this began to be

+apparent even to Jack; fellows were less uneasy when lack of other

+seats made it necessary for them to sit beside him at Chapel or at

+recitations; several times he was greeted by name, rather shamefacedly

+to be sure, by members of his own class; and baseball practise became

+less of an ordeal for him, since the candidates generally showed a

+disposition to recognize his existence and speak him fair. But if

+these condescending ones looked for evidences of gratitude from Jack

+they were doomed to disappointment. He returned greetings politely but

+without cordiality, and made not the least move toward grasping the

+hand of fellowship so hesitatingly and doubtingly advanced.

+

+“If I was not good enough to associate with before,” he told himself,

+“I’m no better now, merely because one man of prominence walks across

+the yard with me.”

+

+He had never accepted Joe Perkins’s invitation to call. He was grateful

+to the captain for the friendliness the latter had shown him, and

+continued to show him on every occasion. But Perkins believed him a

+coward, just as the others did. Joe repeated his invitation twice and

+then gave it up. Yet the more he saw of Jack the more he was inclined

+to doubt the fairness of the general verdict, and so, in spite of

+duties that took up practically every minute of his waking hours,

+he found time to write a letter to his cousin, Billy Cromwell, in

+Auburn. Eventually he received a reply. There were eight sheets of it

+altogether, as was natural, considering that Billy hadn’t written to

+Joe previously for something over six months, but only a small portion

+of the epistle is of interest here.

+

+“I know Jack Weatherby very well [Billy wrote]. His folks and mine are

+old acquaintances. His father has a farm near here, but never has done

+very well with it, I believe. You know what some of our farms hereabout

+are; the Weatherby place is like them, only more so. Jack’s a smart,

+plucky youngster; a good sort all through. If you can help him along

+you’ll be doing me a favor. And I think you’ll like him if you know

+him better. And if you can get him on to the nine you’ll be doing well

+for the nine, I promise you. Jack’s one of those dependable chaps that

+you meet about once in a thousand years; if he says he’ll knock out a

+two-bagger, he’ll do it. And he isn’t afraid of work or anything else.

+That’s about all, I think. You said you wanted to know all I could tell

+you about Jack, and I think I’ve told it. Remember me to him when you

+see him.”

+

+Joe folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.

+

+“I never knew Billy to get taken in by any one yet,” he said to

+himself, “and so I fancy we’ve sized up young Weatherby all wrong. I’ll

+have another talk with him. Only--how to get hold of him?”

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VII

+

+AT THE BATTING NETS

+

+

+Meanwhile Erskine had won a victory over Robinson, a victory which did

+not, perhaps, occasion as much enthusiasm as would have a triumph on

+the gridiron or the diamond, but which, nevertheless, pleased everybody

+greatly, and added new laurels to the wreath, encircling the brow of

+Anthony Zeno Tidball. Erskine won the debate. The result was never in

+doubt after Anthony delivered his argument, and when the last word

+had been said the judges did not even leave their seats, but, after a

+moment of whispered conference, awarded the victory to the visitors.

+

+The debaters and their small company of supporters did not return to

+Centerport until noon the next day, and long before that the morning

+papers had arrived and the college at large had proudly read their

+account of the contest. That explains why when Anthony, attired in a

+long, yellowish plaid ulster of great antiquity, and carrying his

+nightgown and toothbrush wrapped in a piece of brown paper, lurched

+from the train to the station platform and looked about him, his jaw

+dropped in ludicrous dismay, and he made a hurried effort to retreat.

+But his companions were crowding down behind him and he was forced

+forward into the ungentle hands of the cheering students, who filled

+the platform. Somehow, he never knew quite how, he was thrust and

+lifted to a baggage truck, from which, since his legs were securely

+pinioned by several enthusiastic jailers, he found it impossible

+to make his escape. So he hugged his bundle desperately and beamed

+good-humoredly about him, recognizing the advisability of making the

+best of things. The other debaters were hustled to his side in a wild

+medley of cheers, and then, clutching each other madly in an effort

+to maintain their balance, they were wheeled up and down the long

+platform in the vortex of a swirling throng and cheered to the echo,

+individually and collectively. For his part, Anthony was filled with a

+great relief when the train with its long line of grinning faces at the

+windows drew away, and with a greater relief when one of the occupants

+of the truck, losing his hold, tumbled between the framework, and so

+brought the triumphal procession to an end.

+

+The prey were allowed to escape, and Anthony drew his long ulster

+about his thin shanks and scuttled ungracefully into Town Lane and so

+out of the rabble of still cheering students. But he hadn’t escaped

+Jack, for that youth, somewhat out of breath, overtook him before he

+had reached the corner and showered fragmentary congratulations upon

+him.

+

+“I got up--almost before--light,” panted Jack, bravely trying to

+keep up with Anthony’s long strides, “and went--down and--got

+a--paper--and--read--read-- Oh, don’t go so fast, please!”

+

+Anthony moderated his pace and put an arm affectionately over the

+other’s shoulders.

+

+“Did you?” he asked. “Well, now, that was real friendly.”

+

+“And when I--saw--that you’d won--I danced a jig in--the--middle of

+Main Street!”

+

+“And haven’t got your breath back yet?” laughed Anthony.

+

+“But--aren’t you glad?” asked Jack.

+

+“I should say so,” answered the other. “So tickled that I don’t mind

+the money it cost.”

+

+Another event, important to a large part of the college, took place

+a day or two later. March, which had raged in with a big snow-storm,

+relented and attempted the rôle of April. The ground dried and became

+firm and springy and little warm breezes almost induced one to believe

+that he had somehow lost track of the months and had torn one too few

+leaves from his calendar. Erskine Field, given over during the winter

+to snow and winds, clothed itself in a new green livery and suddenly

+became the Mecca for more than half the college. One Thursday morning

+the following welcome notice hung in the window of Butler’s bookstore:

+

+    UNIVERSITY BASEBALL.--Outdoor practise on the Field at 4 sharp.

+    Candidates must bring their own togs.

+

+Jack went out to the field early and, having got into his baseball

+clothes, threw his white sweater over his back, and sat down on

+the steps of the locker-house in the sunshine. Many fellows passed

+him, going in and out of the building, some according him a word of

+greeting, others a mere nod, while still others pretended not to

+see him. But Jack was beyond slights to-day. The spring was in his

+blood and he would have liked to throw himself down on the grass and

+roll over like a colt for mere joy of living. Instead, he only beat

+a restless tattoo with his heels and watched the passers. Presently

+the varsity squad trotted out; King, who played left field and

+was substitute pitcher; Billings, third-baseman; “Wally” Stiles,

+second-baseman; Knox, last year’s shortstop and substitute pitcher;

+“Teddy” Motter, crack first-baseman; Lowe, center-fielder, and several

+more, with Gilberth emerging last of all in talk with Joe Perkins.

+

+Jack watched Gilberth as he went by, much as a cat watches a mouse

+beyond its present reach. He had a score to even with Tracy Gilberth,

+and he was convinced that in good time the opportunity would come to

+him to even it. Meanwhile he waited patiently, observing Gilberth like

+a calm, inscrutable Fate. Gilberth had a firm grasp on the pitcher’s

+place, while Jack was only one of the second squad, and so, of late,

+their paths seldom crossed, and the senior had had no chance to give

+expression to his sentiments regarding the freshman. Of this Jack

+was glad, since Gilberth’s contemptuous glances roused his hatred as

+nothing else could.

+

+The varsity squad took possession of the diamond and began practising.

+Presently Bissell, the varsity center-fielder, made his appearance and

+took the second squad in charge. Bissell was out of the game for the

+while with a sprained ankle, and Hanson, the head coach, had placed

+the second squad under his wing. There were sixteen of them in all,

+for the most part upper classmen who had failed to make the varsity

+the year before, with a sprinkling of sophomores and two freshmen.

+The freshmen were Jack and a small, wiry chap, named Clover, who was

+trying for shortstop. Bissell led the way to the batting nets and soon

+they were hard at work. A third squad, made up of some twenty more or

+less hopeless candidates, many of them freshmen who would later form

+the nucleus of their class nine, were occupying an improvised diamond

+at the farther end of the football field. The scene was animated and

+interesting. The sharp crack of bat meeting ball, the shrill cries of

+the coachers, and the low thud of flying spheres against padded gloves

+filled the air.

+

+Jack had just finished his first turn at bat by sending a hot grounder

+across the grass, and had taken his place at the end of the line again

+when he heard an authoritative voice addressing Bissell, and looked

+around to find the head coach standing by.

+

+“Haven’t you got a man who can pitch better than that, Bissell?” asked

+the coach.

+

+Bissell surveyed the candidates doubtfully and the man who was

+pitching, quailing under the disapproving eye of the coach, threw his

+next ball over the batsman’s head and so completed his disgrace. The

+head coach was a small man, small in stature and small of limb and

+feature, but possessed of a shrewd and sharp brown eye that was the

+terror of shirking candidates. He was unmistakably good-looking, was

+Hanson--his full name was Alfred Ward Hanson--and had the faculty

+of commanding instant respect, rather a difficult feat for a small

+man. He was aided there, however, by a reputation for wonderful

+playing; nothing commands the respect and allegiance of the soldier

+or the athlete as does past prowess, and an army officer or college

+coach whose history contains valorous deeds is seldom troubled with

+insubordination or discouraged by half-heartedness in the ranks. Hanson

+was liked, respected, admired, and--feared.

+

+“You must have somebody here that’s able to pitch a straight ball,”

+continued the coach.

+

+“There ought to be,” replied Bissell. “How about it, you fellows? Can

+any of you pitch?”

+

+There was a moment’s silence. Undoubtedly several of them could, but

+with Hanson’s dissatisfied gaze upon them they hesitated to make known

+their accomplishment. It was Jack who spoke first.

+

+“I can pitch some,” he said, in matter-of-fact tones, stepping out of

+the line. “I’ll try, if you like.”

+

+“Go ahead then,” said Hanson. “It isn’t necessary to pitch curves; just

+get an occasional ball over the plate.”

+

+The head coach went over to the other net and Jack took the place of

+the retired pitcher. He hadn’t tried pitching since the summer and his

+first ball went very wide. The line of waiting batsmen grinned; some

+even laughed audibly.

+

+“That’s a great deal better,” remarked one of them with fine sarcasm,

+and the laugh became general.

+

+“That’ll do, Showell,” exclaimed Bissell. “We don’t need your opinion.”

+Showell, a junior, and the fellow whom Jack had ousted, grinned

+sheepishly under the amused glances of the others and Jack settled

+down to business. After a few poor balls he got his hand in again and

+Bissell nodded approvingly. One after another the candidates took their

+places in front of the net and stayed there until they had made clean

+hits. Jack did not attempt to puzzle them, for at this time of year,

+despite the practise in the cage, batting work was still pretty poor.

+He delivered straight balls as slow as possible and the line moved

+along quickly. When Showell took his place, however, Jack remembered

+his sarcastic remark and resolved to make the former pitcher earn his

+hit. He attempted no curves or drops, but sent the first ball very

+straight over the square of wood that did duty as a plate. But if it

+was straight it was also swift, so swift that Showell merely looked at

+it go by and then glanced inquiringly at Jack as he tossed it back to

+him.

+

+He gripped his bat afresh then, and waited the next ball confidently.

+It came, and was, if anything, swifter than the one before. Showell

+struck at it hard, but was half a foot too late. The watchers began to

+guess what was up and looked on interestedly.

+

+“Shorten your swing, Showell,” directed Bissell. “You were way too late

+then.”

+

+Showell’s face took on a deep red and he gritted his teeth as Jack

+slowly and calmly threw up his arms for the next delivery. Again the

+ball came straight and fast over the plate and this time Showell struck

+an instant too soon and the sphere glanced up off his bat, bounded

+against the hood of the net, and came down on his head ere he could

+duck. He picked it out of the dust and tossed it back with no pleasant

+expression. The line was grinning appreciatingly by this time, but

+Jack’s face showed neither amusement nor interest. Again Showell struck

+and missed miserably.

+

+“What are you pitching, Weatherby?” Bissell asked suspiciously.

+

+“Just straight balls,” answered Jack, simulating surprise.

+

+“Well, now look here, Showell,” said the acting coach, “do try and

+remember what you’ve been taught. Give me the bat.” Bissell took the

+other’s place. “Don’t stand as though you were going to run away. Face

+the plate; if you’re hit you’ve got your base. Now, watch me. All

+right, Weatherby.”

+

+Jack sent him a fairly fast ball, and Bissell took it neatly on the end

+of his stick and sent it sailing in a short flight toward right field.

+

+“You see, Showell? Swing back easily and don’t try to slug the ball. If

+you swing hard you miss your balance nine times out of ten. Bring the

+bat around easily on a line with the ball, hold it firmly and you’ve

+got your hit. Try it again, please.”

+

+Showell did try it again and struck a palpable foul. Once more he tried

+and missed entirely. By this time he was as mad as a hatter.

+

+“I can’t hit them unless he sends them over the plate,” he growled,

+eying Jack aggressively.

+

+“You need to learn how to bat,” said a voice behind him. “I guess it

+would do you good to have a term with the third squad.”

+

+He looked around into the face of Hanson, who unnoticed, had been

+watching his work for several minutes. He subsided and again faced the

+pitcher. But Jack had no desire to bring about Showell’s removal to

+the third squad, and so sent him a slow ball that he could not help

+hitting. When Showell had yielded his bat to the next man and stepped

+away Hanson turned to Bissell.

+

+“Who’s that fellow?” he asked.

+

+“Showell, a junior.”

+

+“Junior? No, no; I mean the youngster that’s pitching.”

+

+“Oh, that’s Weatherby, a freshman.”

+

+“Weatherby? Oh, yes.” He watched Jack send in a couple more balls and

+then turned to Bissell again. “You’d better let him keep on pitching,”

+he said. “Seems to me he’s rather promising. What do you think?”

+

+“I’ve never seen him pitch until to-day,” answered Bissell. “But he

+seems to be able to send in good, clean, straight balls. I don’t

+suppose he knows much about anything else, though.”

+

+“Well, keep your eye on him,” said Hanson. “Can’t have too many

+pitchers, and that chap looks as though he might learn.”

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VIII

+

+THE LAST STRAW

+

+

+Jack marked the first of April a red-letter day in his memory, for on

+that day he was taken on to the varsity nine as substitute. The fact

+was made known to him after practise when, with the others, he was

+dressing himself in the locker-house. The head coach appeared in their

+midst with a slip of paper and Jack listened indifferently until he

+heard his name spoken. Even then the absurd idea came to him that it

+was an April fool.

+

+“Just a moment, please,” said Hanson; and when the hubbub had suddenly

+ceased, “the training-table will start in the morning at Pearson’s,”

+he announced, “and the following men will report there for breakfast:

+King, Knox, Gilberth, Billings, Stiles, Motter, Bissell, Lowe, Northup,

+Smith, Griffin, Mears, and Weatherby. Later, about the middle of the

+month, more men will be taken on. At present these are all we can

+accommodate. Breakfast is at eight prompt, and we want every man to be

+there on time. That’s all.”

+

+After he had gone out those of the fellows remaining began an

+interested discussion of the announcement. Jack, pulling on his shoes,

+listened silently.

+

+“Where were you, Jimmie?” asked King.

+

+“I’m one of the ‘also-rans,’ I guess,” answered Riseman, a substitute

+fielder, sadly.

+

+“Beaten by a freshie,” called a fellow across the room. “Fie, fie, for

+shame!”

+

+“Who’s the freshie?” called some one else.

+

+“Weatherby,” answered two or three voices. “Weatherby, the brave!”

+added another. An admonitory “S--s--s--sh!” arose from Jack’s vicinity,

+and King whispered around the corner of the next alley: “Shut up,

+you fellows; he’s over here.” And then another voice, one which Jack

+instantly recognized as Gilberth’s, drowned King’s warning.

+

+“Do you suppose Hanson expects us to sit at the same table with that

+bounder?” he asked loudly.

+

+Jack’s face paled, and he bent his head quickly over the shoe he was

+lacing. “He knows I’m here,” he told himself grimly, “and pretends he

+doesn’t. If he says ‘Coward,’ I’ll--I’ll--” A lace broke in his hand.

+King suddenly began talking very loudly to Riseman about the baseball

+news from Robinson, but above that Jack heard Gilberth’s voice again:

+

+“I’d be afraid he’d put poison in my coffee. A fellow that’ll stand

+by and see a person drown before his eyes without making a move at

+helping him might do anything. For my part-- What? Who is?” There was

+an instant’s pause. Then, “Well,” continued the speaker in slightly

+lowered tones, “there’s an old proverb about listeners--” The rest

+trailed off into silence.

+

+King was still talking volubly and seemingly at random. In spite of

+his almost overmastering anger, Jack recognized King’s good-hearted

+attempt to spare him pain, and was grateful. His hands trembled so

+that he could scarcely tie his broken string, and the tears were very

+near the surface; he had to gulp hard once or twice to keep them back.

+The temptation to kick off the unlaced shoe, dash recklessly around

+the corner, and knock Gilberth down, to fight him until he could no

+longer stand, was strong. He kept his head bent and his blazing eyes

+on the floor and fought down the impulse. He had promised Anthony to

+keep silence; to lose command of himself now would be to waste all

+those weeks of self-repression which, he believed, and was right in

+believing, had made a favorable impression upon his fellows. He tried

+to think of other things, of his luck in being taken on to the varsity,

+of how pleased Anthony would be at hearing about it. Presently he

+finished lacing his shoes, stood up and calmly donned his coat. Then,

+in spite of himself, he hesitated.

+

+The thought of passing through the locker-room under the staring,

+antagonistic eyes of a score or so of men, of running the gantlet of

+whispers and low laughter, for the moment appalled him. Then, as he

+slowly buttoned the last button, he heard a voice at his side.

+

+“Ready, Weatherby? If you don’t mind, I’ll walk back with you.”

+

+He looked around into the pleasant face of King and, after a moment of

+surprise, muttered assent. The central aisle was filled with fellows

+in various stages of attire and the two had to worm their way through.

+Jack went first, doing his level best to look unconcerned and at ease,

+and King followed close behind him, talking over his shoulder all

+the way. At the door King stepped ahead and threw open the portal,

+guiding Jack through with a friendly push on the back. When they had

+disappeared, one or two witnesses of the affair exchanged surprised or

+amused glances. But only Gilberth commented aloud.

+

+“Very touching!” he laughed. “King to the rescue of Insulted Innocence!”

+

+“Oh, forget it!” growled some one from the depths of a twilit alley.

+

+Outside, on the porch, Jack turned to King with reddened cheeks. “Thank

+you,” he said.

+

+“All right,” answered the other carelessly. “Fair play, you know.”

+

+Jack hesitated, waiting for the other to take his departure. King

+looked at him quizzically.

+

+“Look here, Weatherby, don’t be so beastly snobbish,” he expostulated

+with a touch of impatience. “If you object to my company back to the

+Yard, just say so, but don’t look as though I was too low down to

+associate with.”

+

+Jack colored and looked distressed.

+

+“I didn’t mean to, honestly!” he protested. “Of course, I don’t object

+to your company. I--I only thought----”

+

+“Well, come on, then.” They went down the steps together, just as the

+door opened to emit a handful of players. “Don’t get it into your head,

+Weatherby, that we’re all cads,” King continued, “just because Gilberth

+occasionally acts like one. The fact is, there are plenty of fellows

+back there who are quite ready to be decent if you’ll give them half a

+chance. The trouble is, though, you look as though you didn’t care a

+continental for anybody. Perhaps you don’t; but it isn’t flattering,

+you see. I dare say it sounds pretty cheeky for me to talk like this to

+you, especially as we’ve never been properly introduced and haven’t

+spoken before, but I’ve been here a year longer than you have, and I

+know how easy it is to make mistakes. And it seems to me you’re making

+one.”

+

+“I don’t think you’re cheeky,” answered Jack quite humbly. “I don’t

+mean to have folks think I’m--think I’m indifferent, either.”

+

+“That’s all right, then,” replied King heartily. “They say you’re

+coming out as a pitcher,” he went on, changing the subject, to Jack’s

+relief. “Bissell was telling me to-day.”

+

+“I’ve been pitching some on the second nine,” answered Jack.

+

+“Where did you play before you came to college?” asked the other. Jack

+told him about the high-school nine at Auburn, and the rest of the

+way back the talk remained on baseball matters. He parted from his

+new acquaintance at the corner of the Yard, and went on alone through

+a soft, spring-like twilight to his room. He had gained one more of

+the enemy to his side, he reflected, and that alone was a good day’s

+work. But besides that he had been taken on to the varsity squad, and

+altogether the day was a memorable one. He climbed the stairs happily,

+the sting of the incident in the locker-house no longer felt.

+

+Anthony was quite as pleased with his news as Jack had expected him to

+be, and the two sat together until late that evening discussing the

+unexpected stroke of fortune.

+

+“Wouldn’t be surprised if they let you play in Saturday’s game,” said

+Anthony. Jack laughed ruefully.

+

+“I should,” he answered. “But it’s something to sit on the varsity

+bench.”

+

+The next morning Jack dressed himself under mild excitement at the

+thought of making his appearance at the training-table. He had notified

+Mrs. Dorlon the evening before of his departure from her hospitable

+board and that lady had sniffed disappointedly at the notion of losing

+her only boarder. But Jack had no regrets for the separation. Pearson’s

+was only about a block from Mrs. Dorlon’s, but, nevertheless, Jack

+reached there several minutes late. The baseball players had been given

+the big dining-room on the front of the house in which last fall’s

+successful football team, winner of the remarkable 2--0 game with

+Robinson, had eaten their way to glory.

+

+When Jack entered, the table at first glance appeared to be filled.

+The next moment he saw that there were three empty seats, two at the

+farther end of the table and one near at hand, between Gilberth and

+Northup. He reflected that it might look cheeky to parade the length

+of the room, and so, returning the nods of several of the fellows,

+he slipped into the chair beside Gilberth, fervently hoping that the

+latter would take no notice of him. Gilberth was busily recounting

+an adventure which had befallen him the day before while out in his

+automobile--he was the proud possessor of the only motor vehicle in the

+town of Centerport--and it is probable that he did not observe Jack’s

+entrance.

+

+“It was just at that narrow stretch before you get to the blacksmith’s

+shop,” he was saying. “The fellow had a load of bricks. Well, he

+stopped, and I stopped, and we looked at each other. Finally, he called

+out, ‘Say, you’ll have to back to the corner, I guess. We can’t pass

+here.’ ‘Back nothing,’ I said. ‘These things aren’t taught to back.’

+‘They ain’t?’ said he. ‘But you don’t expect that I’m going to back

+with this load on, do you?’ ‘It’s a good deal to expect,’ I answered,

+looking sorry, ‘but if you don’t, we’re likely to stay here until

+Christmas.’ You’d ought to have heard him swear! It was as good as a

+circus! Well----”

+

+“How are you, Weatherby?” asked Joe Perkins at that moment.

+

+As Jack replied, Gilberth turned and saw him. Stopping short in his

+narrative, he silently gathered up his plate, cup, and saucer, and

+pushing back his chair, arose and walked around the table to one of the

+other empty seats. The talk died out abruptly, and the fellows watched

+the proceedings in dead silence. Gilberth’s action had taken Jack

+completely by surprise, and for a moment he could only stare amazedly.

+Then, as the full force of the insult struck him, the color flooded his

+cheeks until they burned like fire. His eyes, avoiding the faces across

+the board, fell upon the sympathetic countenance of the captain, and it

+was the look of concern he found there that upset him. The tears rushed

+into his eyes and the hand on the table trembled. He put it in his

+lap, where it clenched its fellow desperately, and stared miserably at

+the white cloth. Suddenly upon the uncomfortable silence a voice broke

+calmly. Gilberth, having settled himself in his new seat, was going on

+with his story, just as though there had been no interruption.

+

+“After he’d called me everything he could think of,” he continued, “he

+got down and started to back. It took him ten minutes to get to the

+blacksmith shop, and maybe he wasn’t mad! After I got by him, I gave

+him a little exhibition, free of charge. I backed the machine all over

+the place, and pretty nearly stood it on end. You ought to have seen

+his eyes; they almost popped out of his head. And just when he was

+beginning to recover his voice, I waved good-by to him, and lit out.

+Funniest thing you ever saw!”

+

+One or two of his audience laughed half-heartedly, but the most looked

+gravely disgusted.

+

+“You have a wonderfully keen sense of humor,” observed Joe Perkins

+dryly. Then the conversation began again, and the waitress brought

+Jack’s breakfast. He ate it silently, or as much of it as he could; the

+coffee scalded his throat, and the steak very nearly choked him. King,

+sitting near-by, spoke to him once, and he answered. But his voice

+wasn’t quite steady, and so the other wisely refrained from further

+attempts at conversation. One by one the fellows left the room, and as

+soon as he dared, Jack followed. He kept his head very high all the way

+back to his room; but in each cheek there was a bright disk of crimson

+and his eyes stared straight ahead. A tramp slouching along, with hands

+in pockets, moved aside to let him pass, but Jack never saw him.

+

+When he had entered the front door, he moved very quietly, mounting the

+stairs as though contemplating burglary. Anthony’s door was ajar, and

+Jack tiptoed toward it and looked into the bare and shabby room. It was

+empty, and the fact seemed to relieve him. Crossing to his own room, he

+turned the key in the lock and began feverishly to pack his valise.

+The task did not take him long, and when it was completed, and the bag

+stood beside the door secured and strapped, he went to the desk and,

+seizing a sheet of paper, wrote hurriedly. When the composition was

+finished, he read it through.

+

+    “DEAR FRIEND [it ran]: There’s no use trying any more. I

+    thought I could stand it, but I just can’t. After what happened

+    this morning, there’s only one thing for me to do, and I’m

+    going to do it. I’m very sorry to go away from you, because you

+    have been awfully kind to me, and you are the first one I ever

+    knew who seemed like a chum. But I’m going home, and not coming

+    back any more, because I can’t stand every one thinking I’m a

+    coward, and Gilberth treating me like mud. I’m sorry I can’t

+    keep my promise to you, if it was really a promise, and please

+    don’t think I haven’t tried, because I have tried very hard.

+    Please don’t remember it against me. I’m very, very sorry.

+    Maybe I will meet you again some time.

+

+    “Your sincere friend,

+

+    “JOHN WEATHERBY.

+

+    “P. S. Please keep this charm to remember me by, if you don’t

+    mind. You wear it on your watch-chain. Good-by.           J. W.”

+

+He placed the note and the watch-charm in an envelope, sealed and

+addressed it, and crossed with it to Anthony’s room. When he returned

+a moment later, he held something concealed in his hand. He unstrapped

+his valise, and as he did so a noise in the hall outside caused him to

+glance nervously at the door. Quickly opening the bag he dropped the

+object he held into it, and again secured it. Going into the hall, he

+listened. All was still. Returning, he took up bag and overcoat and

+cautiously crept down the stairs and out of the house. Fearful of being

+seen, he turned to the left and made his way to the station by Murdoch

+Street and the railroad.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER IX

+

+ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE

+

+

+Anthony returned to his room after the first recitation. He had

+discovered while in his class that he had forgotten his watch, and

+remembered that he had left it lying on his study table. The first

+thing that caught his eyes when he entered his room was an envelope

+bearing the inscription in a round, boyish hand, “Anthony Tidball.

+Present.” Wondering, he tore it open. Something fell from it and rolled

+to the floor. When found it proved to be a brown Florida bean with a

+little gold-plated swivel at one end. Anthony stared from the bean to

+the envelope; then the thought that the latter probably held a note

+came to him and he went back to it.

+

+He read the note very slowly, a frown deepening the while on his face.

+He read it the second time and then carefully restored it to the

+envelope, thrust his big hands into his trousers pockets and lurched

+to the dormer-window. For a minute or two he stood there looking out

+across the Common into a tender green mist of quickening branches.

+Finally he sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the room.

+

+“Poor kid,” he muttered.

+

+But perhaps, he reflected, it was not too late to intercept him.

+When did the trains leave? He pulled out a table drawer and found a

+time-card. There was one at 9.22; that had gone. There was another,

+an express, at 10.16. If Jack had missed the first it was possible,

+thought Anthony, to reach the station in time to bring him back. It was

+now----

+

+He felt for his watch, and for the first time since finding the note

+recollected the reason of his return. He glanced quickly over the

+table. The watch was not in sight. He distinctly remembered placing

+it on the blotting-pad while he changed the rather heavy vest he had

+been wearing all winter for a lighter one. He pushed aside books and

+papers and searched the table from end to end. Then he went through his

+drawers and finally, while realizing the uselessness of it, unlocked

+and searched his trunk. After he had felt in the pockets of what few

+clothes he possessed he accepted the fact that the watch was gone. But

+where? Who could have taken it? Who had been in the room--besides Jack?

+Jack----!

+

+He sat down in the rocker and stared blankly, frowningly, at the

+window. It was the stupidest thing in the world to suspect Jack. And

+yet--! With a mutter of disgust at himself for the entertainment of

+such a wild suspicion, he jumped up and surveyed the room. But the bed

+was still unmade and the momentary hope that Mrs. Dorlon might have

+come across the watch and put it away for him had to be relinquished.

+He hurried down-stairs and found his hostess in the kitchen. No, she

+told him, she hadn’t been up-stairs yet and hadn’t seen the watch. Had

+any one been up there? Well, she didn’t know of any one. Still, the

+door had been open all the morning and-- Why, yes, come to think of it,

+she had thought once that she heard footsteps up-stairs and presumed

+that they were Mr. Weatherby’s, though to be sure she hadn’t seen him

+come in or go out. Could she help Mr. Tidball look for it?

+

+Anthony politely declined her proffered assistance and returned to

+his room. He searched again about the table, striving to convince

+himself that he had not left the watch there; that he had worn it to

+recitation, that the chain had become detached from his buttonhole

+and that the watch had fallen from his pocket. But it wouldn’t do.

+He remembered clearly just how the timepiece had looked lying in its

+chamois case upon the blotter, with the heavy gold chain curling away

+toward the ink-bottle. Perhaps Jack had come in to find out the time

+and had unconsciously taken the watch back to his room with him? Of

+course, that must be it!

+

+He strode across the hall and into the other chamber. There were

+evidences of hurried flight; the little steamer trunk stood in the

+middle of the floor and a few odds and ends of rubbish lay about the

+bed and table. But the watch was not in sight. The latest explanation

+of its disappearance had seemed so plausible that Anthony experienced

+keen disappointment. Turning, he retraced his steps toward the door.

+Half-way there he stopped and stared as though fascinated at something

+lying at his feet. Stooping, he picked it up and looked at it carefully

+in the forlorn hope that it would prove to be other than what it was, a

+little chamois watch-pouch.

+

+Finally he dropped it into his pocket and went back to his room,

+stepping very quietly, as though leaving a chamber of sickness. He

+stared aimlessly about for a moment, and then, with a start, took up

+his note-books and descended the stairs. Mrs. Dorlon, blacking the

+kitchen stove, heard the door open and looked up to see the lean,

+spectacled face of her new lodger peering through. He looked rather

+pale and sickly that morning, she thought.

+

+“Just wanted to tell you that it’s all right,” he said. “I found my

+watch. It was in the--the washstand.”

+

+After he had gone she suddenly paused and sniffed perplexedly. “Now

+that’s funny,” she thought. “How could he have found it in the

+washstand when the washstand hasn’t any drawer nor nothin’?”

+

+At the luncheon-table Jack was conspicuous by his absence. The story of

+Gilberth’s action at breakfast had filtered through college in a dozen

+varied forms until by noon it was pretty widely known. The general

+opinion was that Gilberth had acted brutally; there were even some

+few who flatly called his behavior contemptible; there were others,

+fewer still, who thought that he had “given Weatherby just what he

+deserved.” There was considerable relief felt by the more charitably

+disposed members of the training-table when Jack failed to appear, for

+his suffering at the breakfast-table had not been a pleasant thing

+to watch. Gilberth, however, was in high feather. He believed Jack’s

+absence was a result of his treatment in the morning, and was quite

+proud of his abilities as a public prosecutor. But the rest of the

+table somehow did not appear to be quite so pleased with him. This

+fact was shown by a disposition to avoid entering into conversation

+with him. His remarks were received in silence, and after a while he

+gave up the attempt to entertain the company and finished his meal in

+ruffled dignity.

+

+When luncheon was over “Baldy” Simson, the trainer, who occupied the

+seat at the foot of the board, called Joe Perkins’s attention to the

+fact of Jack’s absence.

+

+“I know,” Joe answered, looking rather worried. “I’m going to look him

+up; you needn’t bother. By the way, Tracy, just wait a minute, will

+you? I want to see you.” Gilberth, in the act of leaving the room,

+returned and tilting a chair toward him slid into it over the back with

+a fine appearance of unconcern.

+

+“Fire away, Joe,” he said. “But I’ve got a two-o’clock, and it’s

+getting late.”

+

+Simson went out and left the two together and alone, save for the

+waitress who had begun clearing off the table. Joe pushed his plate

+away and looked gravely across at his friend.

+

+“Look here, Tracy, this thing has simply got to stop, you know.”

+

+“What thing?” asked the other, raising his eyebrows.

+

+“Why, you know what I mean. I won’t have Weatherby persecuted the way

+you’re doing. I can’t turn out a decent team unless you fellows get

+together and work in harmony. You know that as well as I do. Whatever

+your sentiments toward Weatherby may be, you’ve got to treat him

+politely in his position as a member of the varsity nine. I won’t have

+any more scenes like the one you brought about this morning. You’re

+worrying Weatherby half sick. He may be what you think he is; I’m not

+in position to know; but it’s all nonsense for you to take on yourself

+the duties of judge, jury, and hangman. You attend to yourself and let

+Weatherby attend to himself. That’s what I want you to do.”

+

+Joe’s voice had been getting sharper and sharper as he proceeded and

+when he had finished his eyes were sparkling dangerously. As always,

+when Joe’s temper threatened to get the better of him, Tracy’s usual

+aggressiveness disappeared and gave place to a sullen stubbornness. Now

+he traced figures on the stained cloth with a fork and was silent a

+minute before he made reply. Then:

+

+“There’s no use in your lecturing me like that,” he muttered. “You can

+stick up for Weatherby if you want to, but you needn’t think you can

+make me coddle him too. The fellow’s a coward and a cad, and you’ve no

+business asking decent fellows to sit at table with him.”

+

+“You’ll sit at table with him or you’ll get out,” cried Joe hotly.

+

+“Then I’ll get out!”

+

+There was silence for a moment, during which Tracy continued to mark up

+the cloth and Joe struggled more or less successfully to get command of

+his temper. Finally he asked, almost calmly:

+

+“Do you mean that you’ll leave the team, that you’ll throw me over and

+threaten the college with defeat for a mere whim?”

+

+“It isn’t a whim,” growled Tracy. “It--it’s a principle.”

+

+Joe smiled in spite of himself and the last of his ill-humor vanished.

+

+“Oh, don’t talk poppycock, Tracy,” he said. “Look here, you must

+see how difficult you’re making it for Hanson and me. We can’t do

+what we want to do if there are dissensions among you chaps. Like a

+good fellow, promise me to leave Weatherby alone. He isn’t going to

+interfere with you; you know that. The other fellows aren’t kicking up

+a row about having him at table, so why should you? Besides, Tracy,

+consider what a thundering hard row the chap has to hoe. Maybe he acted

+the coward; I didn’t see it and don’t know; but even if he did it’s

+more than likely that he’s a lot worse ashamed of it than you are,

+and probably wants to make up for it. Give him a show, can’t you? Be

+generous, Tracy!”

+

+“Well, let him keep away from me, then,” Tracy growled.

+

+“How can he when you’re both on the team?” asked Joe impatiently. “We

+want him because he’s got the making of a good player; he’s sure,

+quick, and--honest.”

+

+“Huh!”

+

+“Yes, honest! We’ve watched him just as we’ve watched all you

+fellows--perhaps a bit more, because he’s under suspicion, as it

+were--and he’s played us fair every time. He’s done as he’s been told

+and done it just as hard as he knew how. And it’s all wrong to call a

+man dishonest until he’s done something dishonest.”

+

+“How about that affair at the river?” asked the other sneeringly.

+

+“A man may be a coward at a--a crisis and a brave man all the rest of

+his life. Physical cowardice isn’t dishonesty. For that matter, I can

+imagine a chap running from bullets and yet standing up like a little

+man in front of bayonets. I’m not sure I wouldn’t run away from bullets

+myself, and if I were you I wouldn’t be too sure, either.”

+

+“I’m not a coward,” cried Tracy.

+

+“I don’t say you are; I don’t think you are. And yet you’re not brave

+enough to let public opinion go hang and give that poor duffer,

+Weatherby, a fighting chance!”

+

+Gilberth received this in silence, staring moodily at the table. The

+bell in the tower of College Hall began its imperative summons and Joe

+pushed back his chair and arose. Tracy followed his example.

+

+“I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” said the former. He overtook the

+other at the door and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Don’t mind

+my ill-temper, old man. There’s no use in having a friend if you can’t

+bully him a little now and then. And--er--think over what I said, will

+you?”

+

+“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Tracy grudgingly. “No harm done. See

+you later.”

+

+Joe stood on the porch and watched him cross the road and disappear up

+the broad gravel-path toward the laboratories. Then Joe passed down the

+steps and through the gate with a little smile of satisfaction on his

+face.

+

+“Yes, it is all right,” he told himself. “He’ll do as I want him to.

+But I wish--I do wish I hadn’t lost my pesky temper!”

+

+He turned to the left toward Washington Street and as he neared the

+corner he caught sight of a tall fellow crossing the Common with long

+awkward strides. The ill-fitting clothes and the little stoop of the

+shoulders were sufficient to reveal the man’s identity at first glance,

+and Joe hailed him:

+

+“O _Tid_-ball! O Tid-_ba-a-all_!”

+

+Anthony paused, looked, waved a note-book responsively, and stumbling

+over a “Keep off the grass” sign, crossed the turf and clambered over

+the fence.

+

+“How are you, Tidball?” asked Joe, shaking hands. For some reason

+fellows usually did shake hands with Anthony when they met him, just

+as they thumped other acquaintances on the back or punched them in

+the ribs or pulled their caps over their eyes. “You’re just the man I

+wanted to see,” Joe went on. “As usual, we’re just about stone broke;

+the Baseball Association, I mean. We’ve got to have a lot of money for

+the nine and we’ve got to raise it by subscription. The schedule has

+the team down for five games away from home, and that means a heap of

+expense. The Athletic Association has given us all they could afford

+to, about one hundred and fifty dollars, but that won’t last us any

+time. So we’re going to get up a mass meeting in about a week or so and

+try and raise the dust. And we want you to speak for us; whoop things

+up a bit, you know. Can you do it?”

+

+“S’pose so,” answered Anthony doubtfully. “But I don’t know a blamed

+thing about baseball.”

+

+“You won’t have to. We’ve got plenty of chaps who can talk baseball;

+what we want is some one who can open their pockets. We’re depending on

+you, Tidball, so say yes, like a good chap. Hanson is going to speak,

+and so is Professor Nast, and so am I. And we’re trying to get the dean

+to hem and haw a bit for us. But we need you like anything. What do you

+say?”

+

+“I’ll do what I can,” said Anthony. “You let me know when it’s to be

+and tell me what you want me to say. Don’t believe, though, Perkins,

+the fellows will pay much attention to what I’ve got to say about

+baseball. ’Tisn’t as though I knew a ball from a--a----”

+

+“From another ball, eh? Don’t let that bother you. I’m awfully much

+obliged; it’s very nice of you. And I’ll let you know all about it in a

+day or two. By the way, though, where are you living now? Some one said

+you’d left the old joint.”

+

+“Yes, I had to when Gooch went home. I’m at Mrs. Dorlon’s, down the row

+there.”

+

+“Oh, are you? I was just going there. Doesn’t young Weatherby room

+there?”

+

+“Yes.”

+

+“Is he in now, do you know?”

+

+Anthony settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose before he

+replied.

+

+“No, he’s not in just now.” He hesitated a moment. Then, “Guess you

+might as well know about it,” he said musingly.

+

+“About what?”

+

+“’Bout Weatherby.”

+

+“What’s he done?”

+

+“Gone home.”

+

+“Gone home?”

+

+“Yes, left college.”

+

+“But what for? When did he go?” asked Joe in surprise.

+

+“This morning. He left a note for me. Don’t know whether it’s my place

+to tell folks or not. Maybe you’d better keep it quiet. He might change

+his mind, you know.”

+

+“I see,” replied Joe thoughtfully. “Do you--do you happen to know why

+he left?”

+

+“Yes, and I guess you do, too.”

+

+“You mean----?”

+

+“Yes. He stuck it out as long as he could, but I guess things got too

+hot for him. His note made mention of something that happened this

+morning at training-table.”

+

+“By Jove!” muttered the other. “It’s a blamed shame! You know,

+Tidball, I never quite believed him the--er--coward they say he is.

+What do you think?”

+

+“Me? Oh, I don’t know,” answered Anthony uneasily, puckering his lips

+together. “Maybe he isn’t.”

+

+Joe looked a little surprised.

+

+“I don’t know just why,” he said, “but I had an idea you’d support

+my judgment of him. Well, perhaps it’s just as well that he’s gone.

+Although he had the making of----”

+

+“No, no,” cried Anthony in sudden contrition, the blood rushing into

+his thin face. “I didn’t mean that! I shouldn’t have said it, Perkins!

+I think he’s--I don’t believe he’s a coward!” He pressed the other’s

+arm convulsively with his long fingers as though seeking to give added

+weight to the emphatic assertion and hurried away. “Come and see me,”

+he called back.

+

+Joe stared after him in bewilderment.

+

+“Strange duffer, Tidball,” he reflected. “Wonder if he and Weatherby

+had a row? Sounds like it. Poor old Weatherby! I’m sorry he’s gone;

+by Jove, I am sorry! And I fancy I might have prevented it if I’d got

+after Tracy sooner. Hang him, he ought to be licked!”

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER X

+

+FLIGHT

+

+

+When Jack left the house he hesitated a moment at the little gate. Then

+he turned to the left and hurried to Murdoch Street and down that to

+the railroad track. He was taking the longest route to the station;

+but, since his main desire was to avoid meeting any one he knew, it

+was also the safest. His battered valise, although by no means full,

+soon grew heavy and began to bump against his legs at every stride.

+When he reached the track, what with the aggravating behavior of the

+valise and the difficulty of walking over the uneven ties, speed was no

+longer possible. He had barely reached the Washington Street crossing

+when a whistle down the track behind him brought consternation. It was

+the 9.22 train, he told himself; and he knew that if he missed that

+he would have to wait a whole hour at the station before he could get

+another--an hour which might serve to bring Anthony upon him with a

+wealth of unanswerable argument in favor of his return.

+

+So, after a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of the

+warning blast, he shifted the valise again and set out over the ties

+at a run. Once he stumbled and the bag went hurtling down the bank and

+brought up against a board fence. When he had recovered it and had

+scrambled back to the track the train was but a few hundred yards away.

+But the station was almost gained now. He retired to a hand-car siding

+while the engine and its three cars whizzed past him with much grinding

+of brakes, and then ran on in the wake of dust.

+

+There was no time to buy a ticket. When he reached the platform and the

+last car, the conductor had already swung his hand to the engineer.

+Jack pushed his valise on to the car-steps and crawled, breathless,

+after it. Then the train moved again, and a minute later Centerport was

+lost to sight. Jack, huddled upon the rear platform, saw it disappear

+with mingled emotions. Regret was prominent. He wondered at this.

+Surely, he thought, he had been miserable enough at Erskine to make the

+parting anything but regretful. And yet, even as he thought that, the

+idea of leaving the train at the next station and walking back came

+to him with strange attractiveness. Anthony would be glad; none else

+would know that he had contemplated flight; he would go back to the

+training-table, secure a place on the nine, and do great things--things

+that would make the college proud of him. And Gilberth might----

+

+But at the recollection of Gilberth the plan lost its attractiveness.

+Jack gritted his teeth and shook his fist toward where the tower of

+College Hall was still just visible above the tree-tops. Then, having

+recovered his breath, he took up his bag and passed into the car. It

+proved to be the smoker and was almost deserted. He selected a seat on

+the riverside, placed his valise beside him, and gave himself up to

+his thoughts. These were not cheerful. He wondered what his father and

+mother would say to his return. As for the latter, he could count with

+certainty upon her sympathy and support. But his father was different.

+He was a man with a stern conscience, and one singularly devoid of

+the finer sensibilities. For him the path of duty was always clearly

+defined and he trod it unswervingly, no matter what might befall. And,

+as Jack well knew, he looked for and demanded the same moral courage

+from others that he himself displayed. No, there would be no sympathy

+forthcoming from his father. Jack could almost hear him now:

+

+“You had done no wrong, my son. With a clear conscience you had nothing

+to fear. The wrong was in running away.”

+

+He might, thought Jack, even insist upon his returning. But that he

+would not do. He would find work and, as soon as possible, would

+pay back to his father the money wasted upon him at Erskine. He had

+intended becoming a teacher. But now that was impossible. Perhaps he

+could get employment from Billy Cromwell. But, whatever happened, he

+would not, having once reached home, go back to Erskine!

+

+Had Jack been less busy with his thoughts he might, perchance, have

+taken notice of a passenger who sat across the car and a little to

+the rear. He was a man of about forty years, with small, clearly

+cut features, brown eyes, and carefully trimmed mustache and beard.

+His attire was notably neat. In his mouth was a cigar, in his hands

+a morning paper, and at his feet a handsome suit-case. Ever since

+Jack’s advent he had been watching him over the top of his paper with

+a puzzled frown. The boy’s face, seen against the white light of the

+car window, expressed every passing emotion, and the passenger across

+the aisle, who was a good reader of expressions, felt a stirring of

+sympathy at the pervading look of despondency he saw.

+

+Presently the conductor entered, and Jack remembered that he must pay

+his fare. He felt for the little roll of money that was to take him

+home, first in his vest pocket, then in his trousers. Then, while an

+expression of bewilderment came over his face, he searched hurriedly

+in every pocket he possessed. The conductor came and waited patiently.

+Jack seized his valise and began to unstrap it. Then he paused and

+glanced uneasily at the conductor.

+

+“I can’t find my money,” he said. “If you’ll just give me a minute or

+two--” The other nodded and passed on down the car. Jack opened the

+valise and feverishly searched it. But when it was thoroughly upset

+he was forced to acknowledge with a sinking heart that the money was

+not there. He had taken it out of the trunk; he remembered doing that

+perfectly; he had meant to put it into his vest pocket. But it was not

+there.

+

+He stared blankly out of the window, still searching his clothes

+hopelessly. Well, he was not going home after all. Fate had intervened.

+Disappointed and chagrined, he counted the few coins in his trouser’s

+pocket and found that while they would pay his way to the next station

+they would not serve to take him back to Centerport. He blinked his

+eyes to keep back the tears. Tears, he reflected miserably, were always

+trying to crawl out nowadays. And then--

+

+“What’s wrong, Weatherby?” asked a voice over his shoulder, and Jack

+looked up with startled eyes into the face of Professor White.

+

+[Illustration: “What’s wrong, Weatherby?”]

+

+For a moment his surprise kept him silent. And in that moment he saw

+in the professor’s face a kindliness that he had never before noticed.

+The professor’s brown eyes were plainly sympathetic and the professor’s

+lips held a little reassuring smile at their corners. And Jack,

+wondering more, found his tongue.

+

+“Well, that is hard luck,” said the professor when he had heard the

+story. “And you’re going home, you say? How much money will it take?”

+

+“About ten dollars,” answered Jack. The other shook his head.

+

+“That’s not much,” he replied, “but I’m sorry to say that it’s more

+than I’ve got with me. You see, I’m only going to Hampden, three

+stations up the line, and so didn’t bring much. But wouldn’t it do if

+you got off at the next station and went back and got your money? Would

+the delay matter? How long leave have you got?”

+

+The conductor came back and smiled questioningly at the pair. Jack

+shook his head.

+

+“I’ve got to go on,” he muttered.

+

+“Well, here now, I’ll pay your way to Hampden, anyhow. That will give

+us time to consider things. Here you are, conductor.”

+

+When the change had been made and the professor was in possession of an

+elaborate rebate slip, the conductor went off and the professor removed

+Jack’s valise from the seat and sat down at the boy’s side.

+

+“How long are you going to be gone?” he asked pleasantly.

+

+Jack hesitated. Then--

+

+“I’m not coming back,” he answered defiantly.

+

+“What? Leaving college?”

+

+Jack nodded.

+

+“Why, how’s that? What’s the trouble?” questioned the professor kindly.

+“Nothing wrong at home, I hope?”

+

+“No, sir.”

+

+“Then what is it?”

+

+Jack was silent, looking scowlingly out of the window at the flying

+landscape of freshly green hills and meadows with an occasional glimpse

+of the sparkling river. He would accept the other’s help as far as

+Hampden, he decided; from there he would work his way home somehow;

+perhaps he could steal a ride now and then on the trains.

+

+“You don’t want to tell me, I see,” said Professor White. “And I

+dare say that’s natural, Weatherby. You and I have had a couple

+of unpleasant conversations, and I suppose the experience doesn’t

+recommend me as a confident. But you’re in some sort of trouble and I

+think you’d better make a clean breast of it and let me help you if I

+can.

+

+“And while we’re speaking of former encounters, Weatherby, I want to

+tell you that I made a mistake that day down at the coal wharf. I’ve

+got lots of faults, and one of the worst of them is an inclination to

+judge hastily. I accused you of cowardice that day, and I’ve regretted

+it very often since. I can understand how it might be possible for you

+to have hesitated about going into the river and yet not be guilty of

+cowardice in the strict sense. You see, I’ve given some thought to the

+matter, after it was a bit too late. I’ve been watching you since that

+day, and I think I made a mistake; I’m certain I did. And I want you to

+forgive me for the injustice I did you and for the hurt I inflicted.

+Will you?”

+

+“It doesn’t matter,” answered Jack drearily. “You only said what all

+the others thought. I guess it did hurt, but I don’t mind now; you see,

+there’s been a lot worse since then.”

+

+“Ah!” said the other comprehendingly. “I understand. Don’t you think

+you might tell me something about it, Weatherby?”

+

+And after a doubtful glance at the professor’s face, in which he read

+only sympathy, Jack told him. He spoke bitterly, giving free rein to

+the pent-up anger and indignation of the past month; and, perhaps,

+he may be forgiven if unconsciously he exaggerated the tale of his

+troubles. When he had finished Professor White nodded gravely, and

+then, after a momentary silence, asked:

+

+“How old are you, Weatherby?”

+

+“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in July.”

+

+“Well, I’m not going to tell you that the thing is trivial, nor that

+were you older it would appear less tragic. Nothing is trivial that

+influences our lives, no matter how small it looks; and it is just the

+things that happen to us when we are young and receptive that are most

+important. I said I would help you if I could, and I’m going to. But in

+order to do it I must first convince you that I am your friend, and I

+fear that’s going to be difficult. And,” he added, as the train slowed

+down for the second station, “what’s more, I haven’t much time to do

+it.”

+

+“Friends,” said Jack sagely, “always advise you to do things you don’t

+want to.”

+

+“Yes, I guess that’s so,” answered the professor, smiling. “And I think

+what I’m going to advise will prove me your friend.”

+

+Jack watched the coming and going on the station platform for a minute,

+then, as the train began to move again, he asked:

+

+“Would you mind telling me--what it is, sir?”

+

+“No; it’s this.” He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder and spoke

+earnestly. “Come back, Weatherby, and have another try. Wait,” he

+continued, as the other started to speak, “let me finish first. I’m

+not going to belittle your trouble; it’s a big one and it’s hard to

+bear. But you’ve borne it for a month and more. You can bear it longer,

+if you try. Make up your mind to it and you’ll do it. From what I can

+see, Weatherby, you’ve given up the fight just on the verge of victory.

+A while back you had the whole college against you; now there is but

+one fellow actively opposed to you. From what you have told me I can

+see that Tidball believes in you, and Perkins, and King. They are all

+men of prominence and their views have weight. Hold on a little while

+longer and you’ll find that the college has come around to their way

+of thinking. If you give up now you’re losing a year of your life that

+you can’t catch up with again if you live to be a hundred. Stick it out

+and you’re a year nearer your degree. Besides, there are your parents,

+Weatherby; what are they going to think about it? Maybe they’ll say

+you’ve done right in leaving, but down in their hearts they are going

+to be disappointed over this wasted year.”

+

+Jack stared dumbly at his hands, and presently the other went on.

+

+“Come back, and I’ll do everything I can to help you, my boy. Just what

+that will be or what it will amount to, I can’t say at this moment; but

+what assistance I can give you may be certain of having. You won’t find

+it an empty promise.”

+

+He paused, and Jack looked up.

+

+“I wish I’d--wish I might have talked to you before,” he said.

+

+“So do I, Weatherby; but it isn’t too late now. I have a suspicion that

+you’ve come away without signing off. You needn’t tell me whether I’m

+right or wrong. But you may rest assured that there’ll be no trouble

+about it. To-morrow you and I’ll go back together and try it over.”

+

+“But what--where am I going to go now?” asked Jack dismally.

+

+“Why, you’ll come home with me, of course,” replied the professor. “No

+one need ever know but that you and I came off together. We’ll have to

+take a pretty early train back in the morning, but I guess you won’t

+mind that. My mother and sister will be very glad to see you, and--

+Hello, here we are! Grab your bag, Weatherby, and come along.”

+

+“But--” stammered the boy.

+

+“All right; you can tell me about that when you get outside. Besides,”

+he laughed, “you’ve got to get off here, anyhow; your fare is only paid

+this far. Hurry up, or we’ll both get left!”

+

+A moment later Jack found himself out on a sunny platform, dodging a

+baggage-truck and following his hurrying guide through the throng.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XI

+

+ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT

+

+

+The morning after Jack’s departure Anthony turned in through the

+little gate at Mrs. Dorlon’s and strode quickly up the short path.

+The time was but a quarter before eight. The sun was out, but was

+hidden behind a low-lying bank of mist, through which it glowed

+wanly. In the elms along the street the sparrows were chattering and

+scolding until one would have thought that every family circle was in

+the midst of domestic strife, possible because of overlate worms or

+underdone beetles. It was a tepid sort of morning; the bricks in the

+pavement were wet with the fog and the air was warm. Anthony wore his

+coat-collar turned up, not to protect his throat, but to hide the fact

+that there was no other collar beneath. In his hand he carried a can

+of condensed milk and a little paper bag of coffee. He had been upset

+by the events of the preceding day and had neglected to replenish his

+provision cupboard; hence a postprandial journey to Main Street.

+

+As he climbed the stairs and caught sight of the half-opened door of

+Jack’s room, recollection of that youth returned to him and he sighed

+as he crossed the little hall and thrust his own door open. Then

+he stopped short and gave vent to an exclamation of surprise. The

+condensed milk dropped with a thud and rolled under the cot-bed. Jack,

+nodding drowsily in the rocker, opened his eyes and jumped to his feet.

+Then he grinned sheepishly.

+

+“I--I’ve come back,” he muttered.

+

+He partly extended his hand, thinking Anthony would take it. But the

+latter, after a moment of silent surprise, only said:

+

+“Well! I’m glad to see you.” He crawled awkwardly under the cot and

+recovered the milk. “Changed your mind, eh?” he asked, as he emerged.

+

+His voice was hearty enough, and he smiled behind his spectacles as

+though pleased, yet Jack felt a chill of disappointment and answered

+soberly:

+

+“Yes, I changed my mind. I came back on an early train. You weren’t in

+and so I sat down to wait for you; I guess I must have come pretty near

+to falling asleep. Well, I must go to breakfast.”

+

+Anthony fought for a moment against the restraint which gripped him.

+When he spoke his tones held the old warmth.

+

+“Nonsense, Jack, stay here and have some with me. I haven’t any fatted

+calf to kill for you, but I can fry a couple of eggs and give you some

+good coffee, and----”

+

+“I can’t drink coffee,” Jack answered, “but if you really want me to

+stay, I’ll be glad to. I--I’d rather not go to training-table this

+morning.”

+

+“Course I want you to,” answered Anthony. “Why can’t you drink coffee,

+though?”

+

+“Training.”

+

+“What? Why, coffee never hurt any one; best thing in the world, coffee;

+strengthening, elevating, enlarging; good for body and brain. But tell

+me all about your vacation.”

+

+And while Anthony bustled about over his little stove, handling pots

+and pans with a deftness remarkable in a person usually so awkward,

+Jack recounted his experiences rather shamefacedly.

+

+“Right about the professor, wasn’t I?” interrupted Anthony once.

+

+“Yes, you were. He’s mighty good, Anthony. He treated me as though I

+was the President; and so did his mother and sister. I had a bully

+little room with an open fireplace in it and blue roses all over the

+walls and all sorts of easy chairs made out of rattan stuff; and the

+sun just flooded in the window this morning. My, but I wish I lived

+there all the time!”

+

+“Sounds fine,” answered Anthony. “All aboard, now; draw up to the table

+and wade in. Guess you’ll have to use the rocker, unless you’d rather

+have this. Here’s the sugar. How about-- Pshaw, you’re not going to

+drink coffee, are you? Have some water in the toothbrush mug? No? All

+right. Have an egg; that’s right, just slide it off. These rolls are

+good; I sprinkle the tops with water and heat ’em up on the stove.

+Sorry I haven’t more to offer you, though. Well, Jack, I’m glad you ran

+across White and came back. You’d been sorry--afterward--if you’d gone

+home; and so would I. And, by the way, what was it that set you going?

+What happened at the table yesterday morning? Your note was lacking in

+details.”

+

+Jack told about Gilberth’s behavior and Anthony’s eyes darkened behind

+his spectacles.

+

+“Ugly brute!” he muttered. “Ought to be spanked. But-- Look here, don’t

+mind him, Jack; I don’t think he’s going to trouble you much after

+this. Just keep out of his way.”

+

+“I’ll try to. If--if he was a freshman, or even a soph, I’d fight him;

+but I can’t fight a senior!”

+

+“Huh! You won’t have to; he’s going to behave himself after this,” said

+Anthony grimly.

+

+“Well, I don’t know; anyhow, I’m going to stick it out now, no matter

+what happens,” Jack said stoutly. “That’s my last try at running away.

+If it hadn’t been for forgetting my money, I guess I’d have gone. Funny

+how it happened, wasn’t it? The worst of it is, I thought I’d left the

+money in my trunk, but I’ve looked and it isn’t there; I can’t find it

+anywhere. It was about all I had. I guess dad will be madder than a

+hatter when I write home for more.”

+

+“That’s too bad,” said Anthony. “If you want a little--a dollar or two,

+you know--to go on until you hear from home, I can let you have it as

+well as not.”

+

+“You’re awfully good,” answered Jack gratefully. “But it would be a

+nice thing for me to borrow from you, wouldn’t it? Don’t you think I

+know how hard up you are?”

+

+“Oh, well, you could pay it back, you know. If you’d rather, you could

+give me a mortgage on your clothes,” he added, smiling.

+

+“Then, if my money didn’t come, you might for-clothes,” laughed Jack.

+

+“Running away from school seems to sharpen your wits,” said Anthony.

+“Have another egg? Won’t take a minute. Good; I like my guests to have

+appetites.”

+

+“You’d have one yourself if you’d been hauled out of a nice, soft bed

+at half-past six!”

+

+“Guess I would; but I wouldn’t make bad puns.”

+

+Presently, while the egg was sputtering in the pan, Jack asked, with a

+trace of embarrassment:

+

+“Did you--get that watch-charm?”

+

+“Yes; much obliged,” was the answer. “Guess I’d better give it back

+now. Won’t need it to remember you by if you’re in the same hut with

+me, eh?”

+

+“I--I’d rather you did keep it, though, and wear it, if you don’t mind.

+Did you put it on your chain?”

+

+The fork fell into the pan, and Anthony fished it out with much

+muttering before he answered. Then--

+

+“Why, no, I didn’t, Jack. You see----”

+

+“I know; it isn’t very beautiful; just one I had.”

+

+“That isn’t the reason,” said Anthony without turning around. “Fact is,

+I’m not wearing my watch just now.”

+

+“Oh, aren’t you? Why--what----”

+

+“Well, a fellow can’t have money to lend and a gold watch at the same

+time. Just at present I’m a moneylender.”

+

+“Oh, I see,” Jack replied. But, nevertheless, he didn’t look satisfied

+with the explanation, and when Anthony returned to the breakfast-table

+with the egg he had been frying the two finished the meal almost in

+silence.

+

+Thanks to the secrecy of the three persons who alone knew of Jack’s

+absence from Centerport, his return to the training-table at lunch-time

+occasioned no surprise. Joe Perkins looked bewildered for a moment,

+but said nothing. King called across the board and asked Jack where

+he’d been since the day before, and Jack calmly replied that he’d been

+home with Professor White overnight. Several pairs of eyebrows went up

+incredulously, but no one voiced his doubts. Gilberth took absolutely

+no notice of Jack, and, at least in so far as the latter was concerned,

+the meal went off pleasantly. He had expected to be called to account

+by the trainer, but Simson had eyes of his own and said nothing as

+long as luncheon was in progress. When it was over he questioned the

+captain. After a moment of hesitation, Joe told the trainer the facts

+of Jack’s absence as he knew them.

+

+“I think,” he said, “that the best thing to do is to take no notice

+this time. Weatherby may turn out a good man for us if he can get his

+mind on his work. But if this badgering continues he won’t be worth a

+continental; he’s all up in the air. Maybe you can give him a good word

+now and then, ‘Baldy’; the poor dub needs it all right.”

+

+“Sure, I can,” answered the trainer. “Give the lad a chance; why not? I

+doubt he’s varsity material, cap, but he’s a decent spoken lad enough.”

+

+Tracy Gilberth walked back to his room after luncheon feeling very

+dissatisfied with life. He had not yet forgiven Joe for the lecture

+which the latter had delivered to him the day before. Tracy felt deeply

+wronged. He really believed that when he had publicly affronted Jack

+Weatherby that he had been performing a service to the college; that

+it was his duty to protest against the presence at the university of a

+fellow who had shown himself to be a coward. Tracy had a rather good

+opinion of himself and of his importance, and had never doubted that,

+since others had failed to act in the matter, it was his place to step

+to the front. The wigging he had received from Joe had surprised as

+well as disgruntled him, and his vanity still smarted.

+

+And what increased his annoyance was the fact that he had been “called

+down” by the one fellow of all whom Tracy really held in affection,

+and who, or so Tracy argued, should have been the very last to oppose

+him. Never before had the two, whose friendship dated back from their

+sophomore year, come so near to quarreling as they had yesterday.

+Differences of opinion they frequently had, but Tracy always retired

+from whatever position he held at the first sign of displeasure on the

+part of the other. But yesterday Tracy’s backdown had been incomplete;

+to-day he was not decided whether to do as Joe wanted him to and leave

+the obnoxious Weatherby strictly alone or to show his resentment by

+continuing his righteous persecution of that youth with some more than

+usually severe affront. In fact, Tracy hovered on the verge of open

+mutiny when, after climbing the first flight of stairs in Grace Hall,

+he turned to the left down the broad corridor and kicked open the

+unlatched door of his study.

+

+“Hello!” he exclaimed.

+

+“Hello!” was the response from the depths of a big leather armchair,

+and Anthony, who had been reclining with widely stretched legs

+and reading a magazine, placed the latter back on the mahogany

+writing-table and calmly faced his host. The two knew each other well

+enough to nod in passing, but never before had Anthony paid Tracy a

+visit, and the latter’s evident surprise was natural enough.

+

+“Found your door open,” explained Anthony, “so I came in and waited.

+Wanted to see you a minute or two, Gilberth.”

+

+“That’s all right; glad you made yourself comfortable,” answered the

+other.

+

+“Nice rooms you’ve got,” continued the visitor.

+

+“Oh, they do well enough,” Tracy replied carelessly.

+

+As a matter of fact they were the handsomest in college, and he knew

+it and was proud of it. The study was furnished throughout in mahogany

+upholstered in light-green leather, a combination of colors at first

+glance a trifle disconcerting, but which, when viewed in connection

+with the walls and draperies, was quite harmonious. The walls were

+covered to the height of five feet with denim of dark green. Above

+this a mahogany plate-rail ran about the apartment and held a few old

+pewter platters and tankards, some good pieces of luster-ware and a

+half-dozen bowls and pitchers of Japanese glaze. Above the shelf,

+buckram of a dull shade of mahogany red continued to the ceiling, where

+it gave way to cartridge-paper of a still lighter shade. The draperies

+at doors and windows were of the prevailing tones. The effect of the

+whole was one of cheerful dignity. The room was not overcrowded with

+furniture and the walls held a few pictures, and those of the best.

+There was a refreshing absence of small photographs and knickknacks.

+Tracy was proud of his taste in the matter of decoration and furnishing

+and proud of the result as here shown. Anthony liked the room without

+understanding it. Perhaps the little whimsical smile that curved his

+lips was summoned by a mental comparison of the present apartment and

+his own chamber with its cracked and stained whitewashed walls and

+povern fittings.

+

+“You wanted to see me, you said?” prompted Tracy.

+

+“Yes,” answered the visitor. “Maybe it will simplify matters if I start

+out by telling you that Jack Weatherby’s a particular friend of mine.”

+

+“Oh,” said Tracy. “Well?”

+

+“Well, don’t you think you’ve bothered him enough, Gilberth?”

+

+“Look here, Tidball, I don’t like your tone,” said Tracy with asperity.

+

+“Can’t help it,” answered Anthony. “I don’t like the way you’ve been

+hazing Weatherby. Now we know each other’s grievance.”

+

+“What I’ve done to Weatherby doesn’t concern you,” said Tracy hotly.

+“And I’m not to be dictated to. The fellow’s a coward and a bounder.”

+

+“Don’t know what bounder is,” answered the other dryly. “Doesn’t sound

+nice, though. Suppose we stop calling names? I might lose my temper

+and call you something, and you mightn’t like it, either. But I didn’t

+come up here to quarrel with you; don’t like to quarrel with a man in

+his room; doesn’t seem polite, does it? What I came to say is this,

+Gilberth: leave Weatherby alone or you’ll have me to deal with.”

+

+“Is that a threat?”

+

+“No, I guess not; just a statement of fact.”

+

+“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” demanded Tracy angrily.

+

+“Guess not; keep on tormenting Weatherby and I’ll know you’re not.”

+

+“Now, look here, Tidball, if you want a row, you can have it right off.

+You don’t need to wait and see what happens to your precious friend.

+I’ll fight you any time you like. Do you want a fight?”

+

+“No, not particularly,” answered Anthony, with his most exasperating

+drawl. “Never fought any one in my life. Wouldn’t know how to go about

+it, I guess. Even----”

+

+“Well, you’ll know all about it mighty soon if you don’t get out of

+here!”

+

+“Don’t think I shall. Haven’t any intention of fighting.”

+

+“Haven’t you, indeed? Well, what, I’d like to know, are you hinting at?”

+

+“Not hinting at all. You leave Weatherby alone or I’ll catch you in the

+yard and wallop you with a trunk-strap; but,” he added grimly, “there

+won’t be any fighting.”

+

+He drew his long length out of the chair and took up his hat. Tracy,

+pale with anger, eyed him silently a moment. Then he leaped forward and

+sent him spinning back against the chair with a blow on the shoulder.

+The next moment he felt himself lifted bodily from his feet, turned

+head over heels, and deposited in that inglorious position on the broad

+leather couch. When things stopped revolving he saw Tidball’s calm face

+bending over him and felt his wrists held tightly together by fingers

+that grasped them like steel bands. He struggled violently until his

+opponent placed a bony knee on his chest. Then he subsided.

+

+“Now keep still and listen to me,” said Tidball in quiet, undisturbed

+tones. “I’m a peaceable fellow, and don’t fight. But if you don’t

+remember what I’ve told you, I’m going to grab you just like this some

+day--and it’ll be when there are plenty of men looking on, too--and I’m

+going to spank you with a trunk-strap. If you don’t believe me,” he

+added with a slight grin, “I’ll show you the strap!”

+

+“I’ll--I’ll kill----”

+

+“No, you won’t do a thing,” the other interrupted sternly. “You’ll stay

+just where you are and behave yourself. If you don’t, I’ll lock you up

+in your bedroom; and that’s a liberty I don’t want to take.”

+

+He released Tracy and stepped back. Tracy leaped to his feet, but

+something in the look of the eyes behind the steel-bowed spectacles

+persuaded him to keep his distance. Anthony picked up his hat from the

+floor, dusted it tenderly with his elbow, and walked to the door.

+

+“Sorry there was any trouble, Gilberth,” he said soberly. “Maybe I

+lost my temper; it’s a mean one sometimes. Think over what I said.” He

+closed the door noiselessly behind him, and Tracy, shaking and choking

+with wrath, groaned futilely.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XII

+

+A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER

+

+

+Jack sat on the players’ bench, chin in hands, elbows on knees, and

+watched Centerport High School go down in defeat. It was the first

+game of the season for the varsity, and, judged by high standards,

+it wasn’t anything to be proud of. At the end of the sixth inning

+the score was 9--0 in Erskine’s favor, and not one of the nine runs

+had been earned. The error column on the score-sheet was so filled

+with little round dots that, from where Jack sat, it looked as though

+some one had sprinkled it with pepper. If, so far, there had been any

+encouraging features they were undoubtedly Joe Perkins’s catching of

+Gilberth’s erratic curves and Knox’s work at shortstop. The outfield

+had conscientiously muffed every fly that had come its way, and only

+the quick recovery of the ball had, on several occasions, prevented

+High School from scoring.

+

+Joe Perkins looked disgusted whenever he walked to the bench, and the

+expression on the countenance of Hanson, the head coach, was one of

+bewilderment. “It’s simply wonderful!” Jack heard him confide to Joe.

+“I don’t see how they do it. I can understand how they can muff every

+other ball, say; but the whole-souled manner in which they let every

+one slide through their fingers is marvelous!” And Joe had smiled

+weakly and turned away.

+

+When the men trotted out for the beginning of the seventh, Jack slid

+along the bench to where Patterson, the team’s manager, was scowling

+over the score-book. Jack had never spoken to Patterson, and a week ago

+he would have hesitated a long while before risking a snub by doing

+so. But since his return from his “visit” with Professor White the

+treatment he had received from the other members of the team had been

+so decent that he was ceasing to look upon himself as a Pariah and

+was regaining some degree of assurance. He studied the book over the

+manager’s shoulder a moment. Then he asked:

+

+“Pretty poor, isn’t it? Do you think Perkins will put any more subs in?”

+

+Patterson glanced around with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. But

+his answer was friendly enough:

+

+“I don’t know what he’ll do. But if the subs can play any better than

+the men he’s got in there he’d better give ’em a chance. Where do you

+play?”

+

+“Almost anywhere, I guess. They’ve had me at left-field, right-field,

+and second base. I guess I’ll be in the outfield if I get in at all.”

+

+“You’d better go out there and help Northup,” said the manager, as he

+credited Motter, at first base, with his third error. “I don’t suppose

+it matters much whether High School scores or not; only I would like to

+see Erskine have a clean record this year. And to get scored on in the

+first game looks pretty rotten. Who made that assist?”

+

+“Stiles. Can’t Gilberth pitch better than he’s doing to-day?”

+

+“Of course he can. He’s all right when he tries; he evidently thinks

+this game isn’t worth while. But I’ll wager that Hanson will have

+something to say to him afterward. Side’s out. Stiles at bat!”

+

+Erskine managed to find High School’s pitcher to good effect in the

+last of the seventh and piled up four more runs, two of them fairly

+earned. When Erskine trotted into the field again Hanson and Perkins

+had materially altered her batting list. King, who had been playing

+in left-field, went into the pitcher’s box, and Jack was sent out to

+left-field. Griffin succeeded Joe as catcher, Mears took Motter’s place

+at first, and Smith went in at shortstop.

+

+Jack watched events from his position over near the rail fence and was

+never once disturbed; for King retired the opposing batsmen in one,

+two, three order, and the sides again changed places. Jack didn’t have

+a chance to show what he could do with the stick, for High School,

+following Erskine’s lead, put a new man into the box, and the new man

+puzzled the batsmen so that only one reached first, and was left there

+when Billings, third-baseman, popped a short fly into the hands of High

+School’s shortstop. Jack trotted back to the rail fence very disgusted.

+

+It was the last inning. The sun was getting low and the chill of early

+evening caused Jack to swing his arms and prance around to keep the

+blood circulating. Over by the bench he could see them packing the bats

+away, and a little stream of spectators was filling around behind the

+back fence toward the gate. High School had reached the tail-end of

+her batting list again, and, to all appearances, the game was as good

+as finished. But last innings can’t always be depended upon to behave

+as expected. The present one proved this. High School’s first man at

+bat heroically tried to smash a long fly into outfield and, all by

+good luck, bunted the ball into the dust at his feet. After a moment

+of bewilderment, he put out for first and reached it at the same time

+as the ball. High School’s noisy supporters took new courage and awoke

+the echoes with their fantastic war-whoop. King looked bothered for an

+instant, and in that instant struck the next batsman on the elbow. The

+latter, rubbing the bruise and grinning joyfully, trotted to first and

+the man ahead took second.

+

+“Huh,” muttered Jack, rubbing his chilled hands together, “something

+doing, after all.”

+

+But King settled down then, and, after three attempts to catch the High

+School runner napping at second base, struck out the next man very

+nicely. The succeeding one, finding a straight ball, bunted it toward

+first, and, while he was tagged out by King, advanced the runners. High

+School’s supporters, gathered into a little bunch on the stand, waved

+their flags and ribbons, and shouted frantically. For surely, with men

+on third and second and their best batter selecting his stick, a run

+was not unlikely. Hanson shouted a command and King, repeating it,

+motioned the fielders in. Jack obeyed, doubtingly, for he had watched

+the present player and believed him capable of hitting hard. And so,

+although he made pretense of shortening field, he remained pretty much

+where he had been. And a moment later he was heartily glad of it.

+

+For the High School batsman, a tall, lanky, but very determined-looking

+youth, found King’s first delivery and raced for first. Along the

+base-lines the coaches were shouting unintelligible things and

+flourishing their caps. The runners on third and second were running

+home. In the outfield Bissell, center-fielder, was speeding back,

+cutting over into Jack’s territory as he went. Jack, too, was going up

+the field, yet cautiously, for the shadows were gathering and it was

+hard to tell where the little black speck up there against the purple

+sky was going to fall. Yet when, with a final glance over his shoulder,

+he took up his position, and heard Bissell, panting from his run, cry:

+“All yours, Weatherby!” he never doubted that he would catch it. To

+Jack a fly was merely a baseball that required catching; and he was

+there to catch it. So he took a step or two forward, put up his hands,

+and pulled it down. Then he threw it to second-baseman and trotted in.

+

+When he reached the plate the applause had died away and the remainder

+of the audience was hurrying off the field. The players were finding

+sweaters and, having thrown them over their shoulders, were hurrying

+across to the locker-house. Jack, searching for his own, heard Hanson’s

+voice behind him:

+

+“Well, Joe, we’ve got one man who can catch a ball, eh?”

+

+Jack knew that he wasn’t supposed to hear that remark, and so he took

+his time at pulling his white sweater out of the pile. When he turned,

+the head coach and captain were walking away. Jack followed, feeling

+very thankful that he had not missed his one chance of the game. As he

+entered the door he almost ran against the coach. Hanson smiled into

+his face as he stepped aside.

+

+“That was a very fair catch, Weatherby,” he said.

+

+And a moment later, when, wrapped only in a big bath-towel, he was

+hurrying to the shower-room, “Baldy” Simson clapped him on the back

+with a big hand.

+

+“That’s the lad now,” he cried heartily, adding then his invariable

+caution: “Easy with the hot water, and don’t go to sleep!”

+

+At dinner-table Jack thought the other fellows looked at him with

+something like respect. And all, he reflected, because he had caught a

+ball he couldn’t help catching!

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIII

+

+JOE IS PESSIMISTIC

+

+

+“Have you seen the editorial in the Purple?” asked King.

+

+Joe Perkins, who had pushed his book away as the other entered his

+study, swung around in his chair and shook his head.

+

+“About the mass-meeting?” he asked. “No, I haven’t seen the paper yet.

+What does it say?”

+

+Gregory King leaned over the table until the inky-smelling sheets of

+the college weekly were under the green glass shade of the student-lamp.

+

+“Listen, then, benighted one! ‘It is to be hoped that every student who

+can possibly do so will attend the mass-meeting to be held on Wednesday

+evening next in Grace Hall for the purpose of raising money for the

+expenses of the University baseball team. A victory over Robinson this

+spring decisive enough to obliterate----’”

+

+“Hear! hear!” cried Joe.

+

+“Yes, elegant word, isn’t it?” grinned the other. “‘To obliterate the

+stigma of last year’s defeat is what every friend of the college hopes

+for and expects. But unless enough money is placed at the disposal

+of the management, to meet the expenses of the team, such a victory

+can not be secured. The nine has never been self-supporting and every

+spring it has started in with a deficit of from fifty to a hundred and

+fifty dollars, which has been paid by the Athletic Committee from the

+general fund. Heretofore the Committee has, besides making good the

+deficit, paid over to the baseball management sufficient money to carry

+the team through the first half of the season. This spring, however,

+the Committee is unable to do this. The football receipts last fall

+were scarcely more than half as large as usual, while the expenses were

+much greater. As a result, the sum at the disposal of the baseball

+team, the track team, and the crew is extremely small, and the former

+has received as its share the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars

+only--a sum not nearly sufficient to carry it through the first half of

+the season.

+

+“‘It becomes necessary, therefore, to secure funds from some other

+source. Subscriptions have been invited from the alumni, but the result

+of this step is uncertain. A popular subscription is necessary and will

+be asked at the meeting on Wednesday. The amount required to insure

+the success of the nine is not large, and it is the duty of the student

+body to see that it is raised before the meeting is adjourned. Manager

+Patterson will make a statement of the association’s condition, and

+there will be addresses by Dean Levatt, Professor Nast, Coach Hanson,

+Captain Perkins, A. Z. Tidball, ’04, and others. It is to be hoped that

+the meeting will be attended by every member of the university.’”

+

+“Not bad,” commented Joe. “But whether Patterson has made a mistake by

+stating frankly that the meeting is called to secure money remains to

+be seen.”

+

+“What else could he say? The fellows aren’t going to be gulled into

+thinking that they’re invited to a mass-meeting to play ping-pong!”

+

+“I know, but there are lots of fellows who won’t come if they know

+they’re to be asked to dive into their pockets.”

+

+“Then let them stay away,” answered King forcibly. “Any chap that isn’t

+willing to give a dollar or two to beat Robinson isn’t worth bothering

+with!”

+

+“I dare say; but we’ve got to have a lot of money, and if every fellow

+of that sort stays away--” He shook his head doubtfully.

+

+“Oh, get out! You’re pessimistic this evening. Cheer up; the tide’s

+coming in! We’ll get all the money we need, and lots more besides.

+You’ll see.”

+

+“Hope so. Fact is, Greg, I’m a bit down in the mouth over the showing

+we made Saturday. If we don’t do better Wednesday I sha’n’t blame the

+fellows if they refuse to pony up for us. A nine that plays ball like a

+lot of girls doesn’t deserve support.”

+

+“Well, we were pretty rotten Saturday, Joe, and that’s the truth. But

+we’ll stand by you better next time. We’ll give a good exhibition of

+union-made, hand-sewn baseball on Wednesday that’ll tickle the college

+to death. By the way, there’s a long fairy tale from Collegetown here

+in the Purple about Robinson’s team. To read it you’d think they

+expected to walk all over us and everybody else. They’re talking about

+beating Artmouth next week! How’s that for immortal cheek?”

+

+“Oh, they’ve got a good nine, Greg, and they know it. And you and I

+know it. We might as well face it, too.”

+

+“Well, what if they have? Great Scott, man, haven’t they had good nines

+lots of times before and been beaten out of their boots? What do we

+care for their old Voses and Condits and ‘Hard-hitting Hopkinses’?

+Maybe we’ve got a good battery ourselves, and a man or two who can slug

+the ball!”

+

+“Maybe we have,” answered Joe dryly, “but you couldn’t just name them,

+could you?”

+

+“Certainly I can name them! You’re just as good a catcher as that

+Condit wonder of theirs. And Gilberth can pitch all around Vose, when

+he wants to. And----”

+

+“Yes, when he wants to,” said Joe significantly.

+

+“Well, he will want to when it comes to Robinson,” said King.

+

+“Perhaps. And how about the hard sluggers?”

+

+“Oh, well, there’s Motter, and Billings, and----”

+

+“Yourself; you’re a better batsman than either of them, Greg. But

+there’s no use in running down Hopkins; he’s a wonder at the bat; and

+we’ve got to get busy and turn out a few fellows like him. Saturday

+there wasn’t more than three decent hits made in the whole idiotic

+game.”

+

+“My cheerless friend, please forget Saturday,” begged King. “It wasn’t

+nice, I know, but it showed up the weak spots, and that’s something to

+be thankful for.”

+

+“Not when there’s nothing but spots,” lamented Joe.

+

+“Besides, we kept them from scoring; and for a while it looked as

+though we couldn’t.”

+

+“And even that was just a piece of good luck.”

+

+“Good luck? Why, it didn’t seem so to me. I never saw a fielder look

+more certain of making a catch than Weatherby did. And the way he

+pulled down that ball was mighty pretty, too.”

+

+“I don’t mean that it was luck for him; I mean that it was just by luck

+that I put him in your place when you went into the box; I almost sent

+Lowe out there. If I had it’s dollars to cents he wouldn’t have judged

+that ball so as to have caught it.”

+

+“Well, all’s well that ends well, old chap. Cheer up! By the way, I was

+mighty glad Weatherby made that catch and kept our slate clean; for his

+sake, I mean. I’ve noticed that yesterday and to-day the fellows at the

+table have been very decent to him. I guess he rather made a hit with

+them Saturday.”

+

+“I’m glad of that,” Joe responded heartily. “To tell the truth, Greg,

+Weatherby’s been bothering me a good deal; Hanson and I picked him

+out for a good man, and I think he is, but all this badgering by the

+fellows has made him pretty near worthless. I hope to goodness it’s

+done with now.”

+

+“It’s been Tracy more than any one else,” said King. “He’s rather

+overdone it, I think.”

+

+“I should say so! The trouble with Tracy is that he gets it into his

+thick head that he’s a sort of public conscience, and you can’t get it

+out. I don’t think he really intends to be mean; I’ve known him to do

+several mighty decent things--kind-hearted, you know.”

+

+“Seems as though his sense of proportion was out of gear; and you can’t

+faze him, either.”

+

+“Well, I don’t know; sometimes I manage to jar him a bit. I got at him

+last week and asked him to go easy on Weatherby, and so far he’s done

+it. I put it to him on the score of justice and that sort of thing,

+you know. I’ve noticed, by the way, that you’ve been kind of taking

+Weatherby’s part lately. Do you like him?”

+

+“I don’t know whether I do or don’t,” answered King slowly. “I think

+maybe I could like him very well if he’d give me a chance, but the

+trouble is he won’t let you get near him. He’s the most independent,

+stand-offish sort of chap ever.”

+

+“I know. It’s rather against him, that kind of thing. But I fancy,

+Greg, that that manner of his is sort of defensive; I don’t believe

+he’s really so independent as he is--well, shy. He thinks fellows don’t

+care to know him and so puts on that let-me-alone air just to hide the

+fact that he’s downhearted.”

+

+“Do you? Well, maybe you’re right. It never occurred to me.”

+

+“Yes; and something Professor White said the other day bears me out.

+He came up to see me about Weatherby. It seems he’s taken rather a

+shine to him, and had him home with him overnight last week. He says

+that Weatherby’s frightfully cut up over the way the fellows have been

+treating him; thinks no one wants to have anything to do with him on

+account of that affair down at the river, you know, and is just about

+ready to throw up the sponge and light out. In fact--” Joe stopped,

+remembering that Anthony had requested him not to talk of Jack’s

+flight. “Anyhow, it seems rather a shame, don’t you think? The chap’s

+a nice-looking, gentlemanly sort, and apparently has lots of pluck, in

+spite of what happened at the wharf that day.”

+

+“That’s what I think. I believe the truth of that business is that

+Weatherby doesn’t know how to swim, Joe.”

+

+“Really? Did he ever say so?”

+

+“Oh, thunder, no! He never’s talked about it to me; I’d be scared to

+death to ask him. But that seems a reasonable sort of explanation,

+doesn’t it?”

+

+“Yes, it does. And it’s funny that it never occurred to me. Somehow,

+you take it for granted here that every fellow knows how to swim; we’re

+such a lot of water-rats, you know. I believe you’ve hit it, Greg. But

+if that’s the case, why didn’t he out and say so?”

+

+“Well, I don’t know. Maybe we didn’t give him a chance at first, and

+then, when he did have a show, maybe he got spunky and wouldn’t. It’s

+the sort of thing I could understand his doing.”

+

+“Yes, it is. Well, anyhow, he’s cut up more rumpus and made more worry

+than any freshie I ever knew. And I hope to goodness it’s over. I want

+him to play ball. Going? Don’t forget to drum up the meeting. Bring a

+crowd with you and start the enthusiasm early in the game. And, by the

+way, if you ever have a chance, you might just try and find out about

+Weatherby; whether he can swim, you know. So long, Greg.”

+

+Jack would have been distinctly surprised had he known that he was the

+subject of so much discussion. He was beginning to congratulate himself

+that the men with whom he associated seemed to have forgotten the

+unpleasant incident, and were, in a manner, making his acquaintance all

+over again. There was no denying the fact that since his performance

+of Saturday on the diamond the fellows at the training-table had shown

+themselves very friendly toward him. Of old he had usually eaten his

+meals in silence, save for an occasional word with Joe or King or

+the trainer. Nowadays the fellows greeted him as one of themselves,

+included him in their conversation, and even asked his opinion

+sometimes. And unconsciously he was bidding for their friendship. He

+no longer answered all inquiries with monosyllables, but forgot his

+rôle of injured innocence and entered into the talk with sprightliness

+and interest. Once he had even made a joke. It was a good joke, but its

+effect was embarrassing. Every one was so surprised that for a full

+quarter of a minute not a sound greeted it. Then the table broke into

+laughter. But by that time Jack was all self-consciousness once more,

+and for the rest of the meal ate in silence.

+

+But his shyness wore off again, and by the middle of the week his

+companions had adopted a way of listening when he spoke as though what

+he had to say was worth hearing. The effect of this was like a tonic to

+Jack’s vanity. He began to recover his naturally good spirits and the

+change in him was noticeable. Anthony saw and was delighted.

+

+The friendship between him and the younger boy had worked back into its

+old lines. Sometimes, more and more infrequently as time passed, Jack

+thought he could detect a difference in Anthony’s attitude toward him;

+fancied that the other was reserved in manner. But the difference, if

+difference there was, was slight and did not seriously impair Jack’s

+enjoyment of Anthony’s friendship.

+

+Anthony himself in those days was not aware that he showed at times

+any of the doubts that assailed him. He did not mean to. He had argued

+with himself over the matter of the lost watch and had at length

+practically convinced himself that, despite all evidences against his

+friend, Jack was not guilty of theft. It is probable that even had

+Anthony detected Jack in the act of stealing he would still have kept

+much of his liking for the boy, even while detesting his offense.

+Anthony was big enough morally to view wrong-doing with pity as well

+as disfavor, and his affection for Jack--a big-hearted, generous

+affection--would have weighed in the boy’s favor.

+

+But Anthony had made up his mind to believe in the other’s innocence,

+and believe he did. Sometimes the doubts would creep back despite him,

+and it was at such times that Jack believed he detected a difference

+in Anthony’s manner toward him. Meanwhile, Anthony had purchased a

+wonderful alarm-clock for the sum of eighty-five cents; wonderful for

+the reason that it gained an hour each day as long as it stood on its

+feet, and lost twenty minutes each day if laid comfortably on its back.

+Anthony corrected it every evening by Jack’s watch, and persevered in

+his efforts to lead it back into a life of veracity and usefulness.

+

+“There’s some position,” he declared, “in which that thing will keep

+exact time. ’Tisn’t on its feet, and ’tisn’t on its back; it’s

+somewhere between. Patience and study will find the solution.”

+

+So he propped it at various angles with his books, and even laid it

+on its head, but whether the numerals XII pointed toward the floor,

+the ceiling, or the dormer-window the result was always surprising

+and never satisfactory. And finally, after he had once awakened and

+prepared his breakfast before discovering that the alarm had gone off

+at five instead of half-past six, he gave up the struggle, settled the

+timepiece firmly on its little legs, and accustomed himself to being

+always one hour ahead of the rest of the world.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIV

+

+THE MASS-MEETING

+

+

+On the Wednesday for which the mass-meeting was called Jack returned

+to the house at quarter after five, and, as was his custom, stopped

+in at Anthony’s room to spend half an hour before dinner. Anthony

+had improvised a window-seat out of a packing-case, covering it with

+an old red table-cloth and installing upon it his one cushion, a not

+over-soft and very flamboyant creation in purple and white. When Jack

+entered he found Anthony perched thereon before the open casement. The

+seat was not very long and so the occupant was obliged to either let

+his legs hang over the edge or fold them up beneath him. At present he

+had adopted the latter tactics, and a ludicrous figure he presented.

+Jack subsided on to the edge of the bed and giggled with delight until

+Anthony tossed the book he was studying at his head.

+

+“What are you crying about?” he demanded.

+

+“I’m not cr--crying,” gurgled Jack. “I’m la--laughing at you.”

+

+“What’s the matter with me?”

+

+“You look so--so funny!”

+

+“Do I?” Anthony grinned and unfolded himself. “I was thinking a while

+ago that I was like a pair of scissors I saw once. The blades tucked

+back against the handles. How’d the game come out?”

+

+“Pretty well; seven to nothing. Millport came pretty near getting a

+run in the fourth, but after that she didn’t have a ghost of a show.

+I didn’t, either. I didn’t get in for a minute; just sat on that old

+bench and looked on and nearly froze to death.”

+

+“Too bad,” sympathized Anthony.

+

+“Wasn’t it? However, I don’t care very much. Hanson sat with me a while

+and we had a long talk. He knows a whole lot about baseball; stuff I

+never thought of; scientific part of the game, you know.”

+

+“Hanged if I do!” answered Anthony. “I don’t know a baseball from a

+longstop.”

+

+“A what?” gasped Jack.

+

+“Longstop; isn’t that it?”

+

+“Shortstop, you mean.”

+

+“Well, knew it was some kind of a stop. Might as well call it one thing

+as the other, I guess.”

+

+“Why don’t you come out and see a game some day?”

+

+“Going to some afternoon, when I’ve nothing to do.”

+

+“Huh! I guess you’ll never come, then. You’re always grinding.”

+

+“Oh, I’ll take a vacation some Saturday and go and watch you play.”

+

+“Don’t know whether you will or not,” said Jack dolefully. “King played

+in left-field all the game to-day. Pretty nearly every sub except me

+went in. I wish they’d give me a place to try for and let me see if

+I can’t make it. I hope, though, they don’t put me out in the field.

+Perkins told me yesterday that there’s no use in my trying for pitcher

+this year, and I guess he’s right. Gilberth played a great game to-day;

+struck seven men out and gave only two bases.”

+

+“How are you and he getting on nowadays?” Anthony asked.

+

+“All right. He never has anything to say to me, and I let him alone.”

+

+“Guess he won’t trouble you any more,” said Anthony.

+

+“Perhaps not. Sometimes, though, I think he’s saving up for something

+particularly unpleasant. I don’t care, though. He can go hang.”

+

+Anthony closed the window, drew down the stained green shade, and

+lighted the gas-stove. Jack lay back on the bed for a time and watched

+the dinner preparations in silence.

+

+“What’s the _pièce de résistance_ to-night?” he finally asked, as there

+came a sputtering from the pan.

+

+“Hamburger steak with onions,” answered Anthony.

+

+“Ugh!”

+

+“Don’t you like it?” asked his host in surprise.

+

+“Not a bit; and I don’t like the beastly smell, either. So I’m going

+home.” He stretched his arms luxuriously and sat up. Then, “Did you

+ever wish you were rich, Anthony?” he asked.

+

+Anthony paused a moment with fork outstretched, and looked thoughtfully

+across the room. Finally, he shook his head.

+

+“No, I don’t believe I ever did. What’s the use?”

+

+“No use, I suppose. But I have, often. I wish so now. Do you know what

+I’d do if I had fifty thousand dollars?”

+

+“No; but something silly, I guess,” answered the other, prodding the

+steak till it sizzled.

+

+“Well, I’d throw that foolish, lying clock out of the window and get

+your watch back. Then I’d take you to--to--Boston, I guess, and buy

+you a ripping good dinner for once in your life. We’d have quail and

+asparagus, and-- Do you like chocolate éclairs?”

+

+“Don’t know; never ate any. What are they like?”

+

+“Well, we’d have them, anyway. Wish I had one now. And-- But I’m

+getting hungry, myself.”

+

+“Better stay and have some Hamburger and onions,” advised Anthony, with

+a smile. But Jack fled toward the door, ostentatiously holding his nose.

+

+At half past seven they set out for the mass-meeting together. When

+they had crossed the Common and had entered the yard they found

+themselves in one of a number of little eddies of laughing, chattering

+fellows that flowed across the campus and merged in front of Grace Hall

+into a stream that filled the doorway and staircase from side to side.

+

+“Going to have a full house,” observed Anthony.

+

+At the door of the meeting-room they ran into Joe Perkins. He grabbed

+Anthony and sent him, under charge of Patterson, the manager, to a seat

+on the platform. Then he put a detaining hand on Jack’s arm.

+

+“Cheer like everything, Weatherby!” he whispered.

+

+Then a six-foot sophomore, leading a flying wedge consisting of a

+handful of his classmates, bucked Jack between the shoulders and he

+went rushing up the aisle, tossing the crowd to either side, until

+he managed to avoid the men behind by slipping into a vacant seat.

+The big sophomore banged him on the shoulder as he charged on. “Bully

+interference!” he cried. Followed by his companions, he leaped over the

+intervening row of occupied seats and subsided in a heap among a little

+throng of delighted friends. “Down here!” he yelled. Some one imitated

+a referee’s whistle and a falsetto voice called: “Third down and a yard

+to gain!”

+

+Jack found himself seated next to a group of second-nine men. The

+little freshman Clover was his immediate neighbor, and beyond that

+youth sat Showell, the fellow whom Jack had fooled with his pitching on

+that first day of outdoor practise. They had met but seldom since then,

+but Showell had never missed an opportunity to annoy Jack, if possible,

+or, failing that, to show his dislike. His annoyances usually took the

+form of allusions to the incident at the river, plain enough, yet so

+petty that Jack never regarded them as worth noticing. Clover greeted

+Jack with evident pleasure. The latter returned his greeting and then

+nodded to the fellows farther along. Only Showell failed to respond.

+Turning to the man on the other side of him he asked:

+

+“Been down to the river lately?”

+

+“Oh, cut it out,” growled his neighbor, scowling at him.

+

+“Cut what out?” asked Showell, pretending great bewilderment. “The

+river?”

+

+“Let him alone, can’t you?” whispered the other.

+

+“If you can’t, take your old jokes somewhere else,” advised Clover.

+Jack had not missed any of it, and for the first time Showell’s

+pleasantries aroused his anger.

+

+“What’s the matter with you dubs?” Showell asked, grinning. “Can’t I

+talk about the river? All right, then, I’ll talk about the weather.

+Nice, dry evening, isn’t it? Any of you fellows get your feet wet?”

+

+Jack touched Clover on the shoulder. “Do you mind changing seats with

+me?” he asked. Clover looked doubtful a moment; then he got up and Jack

+slipped along into his place. Showell watched the proceedings with

+surprise, and when he found Jack beside him turned his gaze uneasily

+ahead and for the rest of the evening attempted to look unconscious of

+the other’s presence. But, what with the grins and whispering of his

+friends, it is doubtful if he enjoyed himself.

+

+The senior president made his little speech and introduced the dean.

+The latter, who never was much of an orator, said just what everybody

+knew he would say, and was succeeded by Patterson, the manager.

+Patterson explained the needs of the Baseball Association, and

+Professor Nast, chairman of the Athletic Committee, followed and urged

+the students to come to the support of the team. Neither his remarks

+nor Patterson’s awakened any enthusiasm, and the cheers which followed

+were plainly to order. Some one at the rear of the hall started a

+football song and one by one the audience took up the refrain. Perkins,

+who had stepped to the front of the platform, paused and glanced

+inquiringly at the head coach. The latter shook his head and Joe turned

+away again.

+

+“Let them sing,” whispered Hanson. “It’ll warm them up.”

+

+But as soon as it was discovered that there was no opposition the

+singing died away. King was on his feet then, calling for cheers for

+Captain Perkins. They were given loudly enough, but lacked spontaneity.

+Joe’s speech was short, but had the right ring, and several allusions

+to past successes of the nine and future victories awakened applause.

+But when he had taken his seat again and the cheering, in spite of

+the efforts of King and Bissell and others of the team, had ceased,

+it was evident that the meeting was bound to be a flat failure unless

+something was done to wake it up.

+

+Hanson, who was down as the next speaker, called Joe to him, and for a

+minute they whispered together. Then Joe crossed the stage and spoke to

+Anthony. At the back of the room there was a perceptible impatience;

+several fellows had already tiptoed out, and there was much scraping of

+feet. Joe heard it and held up his hand. Then Anthony lifted himself

+up out of the ridiculously small chair in which he had been seated and

+moved awkwardly to the front of the platform. Instantly there was the

+sound of clapping, succeeded by the cry of “A--a--ay, Tidball!” Anthony

+settled his spectacles on his nose and thrust his big hands into his

+trouser’s pockets.

+

+“Good old Tidball!” cried some one; the remark summoned laughter and

+clapping; men on their feet and edging toward the door paused and

+turned back; those who had kept their seats settled themselves more

+comfortably and looked expectant. The senior class president jumped to

+his feet and called for a cheer, and the response was encouragingly

+hearty. Joe threw a satisfied glance at Hanson and the latter nodded.

+The tumult died down and Anthony, who had been facing the gathering

+with calm and serious countenance, began to speak.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XV

+

+ANTHONY ON BASEBALL

+

+

+“Well,” commenced Anthony, in his even, deliberate drawl, “you had your

+chance to get out, and didn’t take it. I guess you’re in for it. I’ve

+been requested to speak to you about baseball. I told Captain Perkins

+that I didn’t know a baseball from a frozen turnip, but he said that

+made it all the better; that if I didn’t know what I was talking about

+you would realize that I was absolutely unprejudiced and my words would

+carry more weight. I said, ‘How are you going to get the fellows to

+listen to me?’ He said, ‘We’ll lock the doors.’ I guess they’re locked.”

+

+Half his audience turned to look, and the rest laughed.

+

+“Anyhow,” Anthony continued, “he kept his part of the agreement, and

+so I’ll have to keep mine. I’ve said frankly that I know nothing about

+baseball, and I hope that you will all pardon any mistakes I may

+make in discussing the subject. I never saw but one game, and after

+it was over I knew less about it than I did before. A fellow I knew

+played--well, I don’t know just what he did play; most of the time he

+danced around a bag of salt or something that some one had left out on

+the grass. There were three of those bags, and his was the one on the

+southeast corner. When the game was over he asked me how I liked it. I

+said, ‘It looks to me like a good game for a lunatic asylum.’ He said

+I showed ignorance; that it was the best game in the world, and just

+full up and slopping over with science. I didn’t argue with him. But

+I’ve always thought that if I had to play baseball I’d choose to be the

+fellow that wears a black alpaca coat and does the talking. Seems to me

+he’s the only one that remains sane. I asked my friend if he was the

+keeper; he said no, he was the umpire.”

+

+By this time the laughter was almost continuous, but Anthony’s

+expression of calm gravity remained unbroken. At times he appeared

+surprised and disturbed by the bursts of laughter; and a small freshman

+in the front row toppled out of his seat and had to be thumped on the

+back. Even the dean was chuckling.

+

+“Well, science has always been a weak point with me, and I guess that’s

+why I’m not able to understand the science of hitting a ball with a

+wagon-spoke and running over salt-bags. But I’m not so narrow-minded

+as to affirm that because I can’t see the science it isn’t there.

+You’ve all heard about Abraham Lincoln and the book-agent, I guess.

+The book-agent wanted him to write a testimonial for his book. Lincoln

+wrote it. It ran something like this: ‘Any person who likes this kind

+of a book will find this just the kind of a book he likes.’ Well,

+that’s about my idea of baseball; anybody who likes that kind of a game

+will find baseball just the kind of a game he likes.

+

+“Now, they tell me that down at Robinson they’ve found an old

+wagon-wheel, cut the fingers off a pair of kid gloves, bought a wire

+bird-cage, and started a baseball club. All right. Let ’em. There are

+other wheels and more gloves and another bird-cage, I guess. Captain

+Perkins says he has a club, too. I’ve never seen it, but I don’t doubt

+his word; any man with Titian hair tells the truth. He says he keeps it

+out at the field. From what I’ve seen of baseball clubs I think that’s

+a good, safe place. I hope, however, that he locks the gates when he

+leaves ’em. But Captain Perkins tells me that he has the finest kind of

+a baseball club that ever gibbered, and he offers to bet me a suspender

+buckle against a pants button that his club can knock the spots off of

+any other club, and especially the Robinson club. I’m not a betting

+man, and so I let him boast.

+

+“And after he’d boasted until he’d tired himself out he went on to say

+that baseball clubs were like any other aggregation of mortals; that

+they have to be clothed and fed, and, moreover, when they go away to

+mingle with other clubs they have to have their railway fare paid.

+Captain Perkins, as I’ve said once already, is a truthful man, and so

+I don’t see but that we’ve got to believe him. He says that his club

+hasn’t any money; that if it doesn’t get some money it will grow pale

+and thin and emaciated, and won’t be able to run around the salt-bags

+as violently as the Robinson club; in which case the keeper--I mean the

+umpire--will give the game to Robinson. Well, now, what’s to be done?

+Are we to stand idly by with our hands in our pockets and see Robinson

+walk off with a game that is really our property? Or are we to take

+our hands out of our pockets, with the fingers closed, and jingle some

+coins into the collection-box?

+

+“I’m not a baseball enthusiast, as I’ve acknowledged, but I am an

+Erskine enthusiast, fellows. Perkins says we ought to beat Robinson at

+baseball. I say let’s do it! I say let’s beat Robinson at everything.

+If anybody will start a parchesi club I’ll go along and stand by and

+yell while they down the Robinson parchesi club. That’s what Providence

+made Robinson for--to be beaten. Providence looked over the situation

+and said: ‘There’s Erskine, with nothing to beat.’ Then Providence made

+Robinson. And we started in and beat her. And we’ve been beating her

+ever since--when she hasn’t beaten us.

+

+“I’ve done a whole lot of talking here this evening, and I guess you’re

+all tired of it.” (There was loud and continued dissent at this point,

+interspersed with cries of “Good old Tidball!”) “But I promised to

+talk, and I like to give good measure. But the time for talking is

+about up. Mr. Hanson has something to say to you, and as he knows what

+he’s going to talk about, whereas I don’t know what I’m talking about,

+I guess I’d better stop and give him a show. But before I stop I want

+to point out a self-evident fact, fellows. You can’t win from Robinson

+without a baseball team, and you can’t have a baseball team unless

+you dig down in your pockets and pay up. Manager Patterson says the

+Baseball Association needs the sum of six hundred dollars. Well, let’s

+give it to ’em. Any fellow here to-night who thinks a victory over

+Robinson isn’t worth six hundred dollars is invited to stand up and

+walk out; we’ll unlock the door for him. Six hundred dollars means only

+about one dollar for each fellow. I am requested to state that after

+Mr. Hanson has spoken his piece a few of the best-looking men among us

+will pass through the audience with small cards upon which every man

+is asked to write his name and the amount he is willing to contribute

+to secure a victory over Robinson that will make last year’s score

+look like an infinitesimal fraction. If some one will go through the

+motions, I’d like to propose three long Erskines, three times three and

+three long Erskines for the nine.”

+

+Anthony bowed and sat down. The senior class president sprang to his

+feet, and the next moment the hall was thunderous with the mighty

+cheers that followed his “One, two, three!” Then came calls of

+“Tidball! Tidball!” and again the slogan was taken up. It was fully

+five minutes ere the head coach arose. And when he in turn stood at the

+platform’s edge the cheers began once more, for enthusiasm reigned at

+last.

+

+Hanson realized that further speechmaking was idle and confined his

+remarks to an indorsement of what Anthony had said. The distribution

+of blank slips of paper had already begun and his audience paid but

+little attention to his words, although it applauded good-naturedly.

+When he had ended, promising on behalf of the team, and in return for

+the support of the college, the best efforts of players and coaches,

+confusion reigned supreme. Pencils and fountain pens were passed hither

+and thither, jokes were bandied, songs were sung, and the tumult

+increased with the pushing aside of chairs and the scraping of feet as

+the meeting began to break up. But, though some left as soon as they

+had filled out their pledges, the greater number flocked into noisy

+groups and awaited the announcement of the result.

+

+At length, Professor Nast accepted the slip of paper handed him by

+Patterson and advanced to the edge of the platform. There, he raised

+a hand for attention, and at the same time glanced at the figures.

+An expression of incredulity overspread his face, and he turned an

+inquiring look upon the manager. The latter smiled and nodded, as

+though to dispel the professor’s doubts. The hubbub died away, and the

+professor faced the meeting again.

+

+“I am asked,” he said, “to announce the result of the--ah--subscription.

+Where every one has responded so promptly and so heartily to the appeal

+in behalf of the association, it would be, perhaps, unfair to give the

+names of any who have been exceptionally generous. But without doing

+so it remains a pleasant--ah--privilege to state that among the

+subscriptions there is one of fifty dollars----”

+

+Loud applause greeted this announcement, and fellows of notoriously

+empty pocket-books were accused by their friends of being the unnamed

+benefactor, and invariably acknowledged the impeachment with profuse

+expressions of modesty.

+

+“Three of twenty-five dollars,” continued the professor, “six of ten

+dollars, seventeen of five dollars, and many of two dollars and over.

+The total subscription, strange as it may seem, reaches the sum of five

+hundred and ninety-nine dollars, one dollar less than the amount asked

+for!”

+

+There was a moment of silent surprise. Then, from somewhere at the left

+of the room, a voice cried: “Here you are, then!” and something went

+spinning through the air. The head coach leaped forward, caught it

+deftly, and held it aloft. It was a shining silver dollar.

+

+“Thank you,” he said.

+

+The incident tickled the throng, and cheers and laughter struggled for

+supremacy. Jack pushed his way to the door, and remained there waiting

+for Anthony, one hand groping lonesomely in a trouser pocket where a

+minute or two before had snuggled his last coin.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVI

+

+JACK COURTS THE MUSE

+

+

+April passed into May, and uncertain skies gave way to placid expanses

+of blue, whereon soft fluffs of white moved slowly, blown by warm and

+gentle winds. Down at the boat-house, bare-legged and bare-headed, men

+filed across the floats, bearing the slender, glinting shells, or,

+with hands on oars, bent and unbent in unison to the sharp commands of

+important and diminutive coxswains; on the newly rolled cinder-track

+other men sped or jogged, heads well back and knees high, with white

+trunks fluttering in the breeze; in front of the stand the jumpers and

+pole-vaulters plumped themselves into the freshly spaded loam; on the

+diamond, brilliantly green in its carpet of carefully tended turf, the

+players darted hither and thither amid the crack of batted ball and the

+cries of coaches.

+

+By the beginning of the second week in May, baseball affairs had

+assumed a more encouraging look. The training-table had taken on

+six more men--among them Showell and Clover--and the unsuccessful

+candidates had gone to the freshmen team or found other branches

+of athletics to interest them. Erskine had played eight games, had

+won six, tied one, and lost one. What was practically a preliminary

+season was well-nigh over and with the middle of the month the serious

+contests would begin.

+

+Meanwhile, Jack had found himself. After a vicarious existence as

+a general outfield substitute, he had settled down as substitute

+second-baseman, a position which he had never attempted hitherto, but

+one which he took to in a way that vindicated his right to it. He

+showed that he possessed the three essentials of a good second-baseman:

+coolness, quickness, and judgment. With the exception of third base,

+second is the most difficult of the infield positions; it has been

+called the “keystone of the infield,” and that very aptly. So far

+as handling the ball is concerned--that is, catching, stopping,

+or throwing--second-baseman has no harder work than shortstop or

+third-baseman; it is in studying the batsman that he encounters his

+difficulties.

+

+Jack started in with a good knowledge of the fundamentals of baseball

+and took kindly to coaching. Gradually he acquired the intuitive sense

+which enabled him to tell where the ball was going before it had left

+the bat, and to govern himself accordingly. He learned that a nine’s

+success depends upon team-work and not upon individual brilliancy, and

+to control his zeal; to anticipate the shortstop’s movements and to

+know, without looking, where that player and the third-baseman were;

+to keep always in mind that the best policy is to put out the runner

+nearest home; and much more besides.

+

+With a definite position to try for, Jack found it much easier to put

+every effort into playing. Even the fact that “Wally” Stiles, the first

+choice for second-baseman, would in all likelihood play out the big

+games, those with Harvard, Artmouth, and Robinson, did not trouble him.

+There would be other games which, if less important, were well worth

+winning, and in those he would probably take part.

+

+So Jack put his whole mind into learning his position, studying its

+possibilities, developing an eighth sense, which enabled him time and

+again to judge almost with exactitude in what direction, and how far,

+the ball, scarcely away from the bat, was going, and learning, too,

+to “size up” a batsman’s prowess from the way he stood and looked and

+swung his stick. I have said that he possessed a good knowledge of

+the fundamentals of the game when he started in; but there were still

+things to learn which his baseball education had not taught, such

+little niceties as stopping grounders with his feet together so that,

+in case of a miss, the ball could not go between his legs, and, after

+catching or stopping a ball, to start at once toward the point whither

+the ball was to be thrown instead of standing still, so that by the

+time he had gathered himself for the throw the distance for the ball to

+travel had been lessened; little things these, but of the sort that win

+or lose a game.

+

+One thing that had a deal to do with Jack’s ability to put his heart

+into his work on the diamond was the attitude of the other players

+toward him. Had the old scarcely concealed contempt and dislike been

+manifested he could never have shown up as varsity material. But that

+was past. In the minds of most of the fellows time had dimmed the

+memory of the incident at the river, now nearly three months ago, and

+Jack’s attitude and behavior of late had aided.

+

+For a while the neutrality observed by Gilberth made him suspicious

+that the pitcher was only husbanding his powers of annoyance in order

+to indulge in some more than usually brutal expression of contempt.

+But, as time went by, Jack was forced to conclude that hostilities from

+that source were over. At length, the neutrality was succeeded by a

+show of friendliness. It was impossible to practise together day after

+day without an occasional word or two, and Jack and Tracy soon found

+themselves in the habit of greeting each other when they met, very

+ceremoniously, to be sure, and of sometimes exchanging observations

+on the bench much after the manner of slight acquaintances who find

+themselves thrown together at a party. Jack was very glad. The old

+thirst for vengeance on his enemies had wasted perceptibly under the

+influence of congenial companionship, and he was ready to cry quits.

+Just what Tracy’s sentiments were at this time it is hard to say; it is

+doubtful if he knew himself.

+

+He had made up his mind to let Jack alone, and was doing it. Only one

+thing troubled him, and that was the fear that Anthony Tidball might

+think that his course was the result of the other’s threats. And it is

+only fair to state on behalf of Tracy’s physical courage that such was

+not the case. Joe Perkins’s remonstrances had borne weight, and when,

+shortly after Anthony’s visit, Professor White had added his request,

+Tracy had decided that, after all, he had possibly mistaken the

+sentiment of the college. Professor White had said to him very much the

+same things that Joe had said, but he had put them more convincingly.

+He knew Tracy, and did not make the mistake of ruffling his temper; on

+the contrary, when he had left, Tracy felt that there was one person at

+Erskine who understood him. And for the sake of that person and of Joe

+he would do as they asked him.

+

+Professor White’s efforts in Jack’s behalf were not limited to the

+talk with Tracy. He saw Joe Perkins and Hanson and King and several

+others with whom Jack came in daily contact and asked for the boy fair

+treatment. And he encouraged Jack to visit him and, when the latter did

+so, used every effort to hearten him. On the whole, it is safe to say

+that to the professor belonged a greater part of the credit for the

+betterment of the boy’s condition. Such was the state of affairs when,

+on a certain Saturday evening, about the middle of the month, Jack and

+Anthony sat talking on the edge of Mrs. Dorlon’s porch.

+

+Anthony had washed up his supper dishes and Jack had just strolled

+back from dinner at the training-table. The moon, well into its first

+quarter, was sailing in a clear sky over the tops of the elms in the

+yard. The evening was musical with the hum and whirr of early insects

+and the varied sounds from open windows. Somewhere farther up the curve

+of Elm Street an uncertain hand was coaxing the strains of Mandalay

+from a guitar, and now and then the faint music of a piano floated

+across from Walton Hall. Anthony had lighted his pipe and, with its

+bowl aglow in the dusk, was leaning against a pillar, one knee tucked

+up under his chin. Jack sat a yard away, his hands in his pockets,

+staring up at the moon.

+

+“Did you ever write poetry, Anthony?” he asked suddenly.

+

+“No.” Anthony sucked reflectively at the pipe and shook his head

+slowly. “No, I’ve had the measles and whooping-cough and scarlatina,

+but I’ve never had poetry yet. Of course, I’ve tried my hand at blank

+verse in Latin, but it wasn’t poetry; even the instructor acknowledged

+that.”

+

+“Oh, I meant just plain every-day poetry, you know,” Jack explained. “I

+thought if you had you could tell me something about it.”

+

+“Well, I didn’t say that I didn’t know poetry when I saw it,” answered

+Anthony. “I’ve read a good deal of it, you see. What do you want to

+know?”

+

+“I want to know whether you have to have all your lines rhyme.”

+

+“Depends, I guess. What are you going to do, anyway, turn into a poet?”

+

+“No, only I thought I’d try my hand at writing some verses for the

+fellows to sing at the games, you know. The Purple says we ought to

+have some new songs for the Robinson game.”

+

+“Oh. Well, now, from what I’ve seen of such things it doesn’t matter

+any whether lines rhyme or don’t rhyme, I should say. As long as the

+words fit the music the rhymes just hump along as best they can. Have

+you written anything yet?”

+

+“N--no, not exactly,” answered Jack cautiously. “I’ve got an idea, but

+I didn’t quite know about rhyming. Of course, all the poetry you read

+rhymes all through, like Tennyson, or else it doesn’t rhyme at all,

+like Milton. What I was wondering was whether it was all right to just

+rhyme now and then, you know, when you could, and not bother about it

+when you--you can’t. What do you think?”

+

+“Oh, I’d just do the best I could and not worry,” answered the other

+gravely. “The--hum--sentiment seems to be the most important thing

+about college songs.”

+

+“Yes, I suppose so. It’s funny how few rhymes there are when you come

+to look for them,” said Jack thoughtfully. “Now there’s ‘purple’; I

+can’t find anything to rhyme with that.”

+

+“Purple? Now that does sound difficult. Let’s see; I guess ‘turtle’

+wouldn’t do, eh?”

+

+“I’m afraid not. I’ve tried everything. I thought maybe it wouldn’t

+matter if it didn’t rhyme.”

+

+“Don’t believe it will. Let’s hear what you got.”

+

+“Oh, it isn’t anything much,” answered Jack modestly. “It--it goes to

+the tune of ‘Hail, Columbia!’ you know.”

+

+“All right; sing it if you’d rather.”

+

+“I can’t sing; I’ll just say it. It--it begins like this:

+

+    Hail to Erskine, conq’ring band!

+    Firm together we will stand!

+    While the battle rages high

+    We will fight until the last!

+    Underneath the purple banner we

+    Will live or die for victory!

+

+What--what do you think of it?”

+

+“Well, if you want my honest opinion,” replied Anthony, “I think it’s

+too classic, Jack. Seems to me what you want in those kind of songs is

+a lot of ‘rah, rah, hullabaloo!’ And I don’t believe ‘Hail, Columbia!’

+is a good tune; seems too jerky. Course, I’m not an authority, and

+maybe I’m mistaken. But if I were you I’d try again; get more swing

+into it. I’ve always thought ‘John Brown’s Body’ was the best tune to

+set football songs and such things to. Of course, it’s older than the

+hills and has been used by every college from Maine to Mexico, but that

+doesn’t matter if you get some good words. I’d forget about the rhymes

+at first; just find some lines that’ll swing along, you know; kind of

+sing themselves; afterward, you can go back and tuck a rhyme in here

+and there. Try it.”

+

+“I guess I will. I wasn’t just satisfied with that ‘Hail, Columbia!’

+one, but I didn’t know what ailed it. I thought maybe it was because I

+couldn’t find a rhyme for ‘high.’ There was ‘die,’ but I’d used that in

+the last line, you see.”

+

+“I see.” Anthony knocked the ashes from his pipe and stretched himself.

+“Guess I’ll have to go up and do some studying,” he said.

+

+“Wait a minute,” Jack pleaded. “There’s another thing I wanted to ask

+about. Is it hard to learn to swim?”

+

+“Never learned, Jack, and can’t say from experience. But from what I’ve

+seen I’d say it was blamed hard.”

+

+“Never learned! But I thought----”

+

+“It was like this with me. When I was about knee high to a grasshopper

+I went in wading and saw my daddy out in a dory about fifty feet from

+shore. So I went out to him. They say I didn’t have much breath left

+when they pulled me in; I don’t remember. I guess I swam, though; if I

+didn’t I don’t know how I got there. Anyhow, after that I knew how all

+right.”

+

+“Just imagine,” mused Jack. “I know I couldn’t do that, but I do want

+to learn. Do you think I could?”

+

+“Course you could, but I guess it would take time. If you want me to

+help, I’ll do it.”

+

+“Will you, really?” exclaimed the other. “Glory! that will be fine! I

+wanted to ask you, but didn’t quite like to; I’ve been so much of a

+bother to you already.”

+

+“Oh, get out. We’ll go down to the river and find a place where it’s

+not too deep; I think I know of one. The water’ll be plaguy cold,

+though, this early. Want to wait a while longer?”

+

+“No, I want to begin right off--before my courage fails me; you know,

+I’m an awful fool about water, Anthony.”

+

+“Because you don’t understand it. Water won’t hurt you if you know what

+to do.”

+

+“And you won’t mind if--if I’m a bit scary at first?”

+

+“No, I won’t mind. If you say you want me to teach you to swim, I’ll do

+it if I have to throw you in the water and hold you there. Do you?”

+

+Jack took a long breath and looked hard at Anthony’s face in the

+moonlight. What he saw evidently reassured him, for after a pause he

+said faintly:

+

+“Y--yes!”

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVII

+

+ERSKINE _VS._ HARVARD

+

+

+The nine took its first long trip when it journeyed to Cambridge

+and played Harvard in a warm drizzle of rain that made the ball

+slippery and hard to hold, and set the players to steaming like so

+many tea-kettles. Erskine met her second defeat of the season that

+afternoon. She had an attack of the stage-fright usual to the teams of

+lesser colleges when confronting those of the “big four,” and it lasted

+until the fifth inning, when, with the score 9 to 0 in her favor,

+Harvard’s pitcher slumped and allowed the bases to fill for the first

+time during the contest.

+

+Erskine awakened, then, to the fact that her opponents were only human

+beings, after all, and not supernatural personages protected by the

+gods, a fact which Hanson had been seeking to convince them of all day

+long, but without success. With bases full, one man out, and Bissell at

+bat, there seemed no reason why the Purple should not place a tally

+in her empty column. This was evidently the view that Bissell himself

+took, for after having two strikes and two balls called on him, he

+found what he wanted and drove it hard and straight between first and

+second. Gilberth scored, but Billings was caught out at the plate.

+Motter reached third and Bissell went to second. Hanson whispered to

+Lowe as he selected his bat. Harvard shortened field.

+

+“Last man!” called the crimson-legged first-baseman.

+

+“Last man!” echoed the shortstop.

+

+Lowe’s first attempt at a bunt missed fire and the umpire called a

+strike on him. Then came two balls, each an enticing and deceptive

+drop. Lowe was the last man on the batting list, but if he wasn’t much

+of a hitter he at least was capable of obeying orders. He watched

+the balls go by in a disinterested manner that was beautiful to see.

+Then came another strike, and for an instant his round, freckled face

+expressed uneasiness. The Harvard pitcher decided to end the half, and

+threw straight over base. Lowe shortened his bat a trifle and found the

+ball, and the next moment both were going toward first base, the ball

+very slowly, Lowe about as rapidly as he ever moved in his life.

+

+It was the pitcher’s ball, and the pitcher ran for it. Motter, at

+third, started pell-mell for home, only to stop as suddenly and dive

+back to the bag. But the pitcher knew better than to throw there, and

+as soon as Motter had turned he sped the ball to first. But he had

+delayed an instant too long, and the umpire dropped his hand in the

+direction of Lowe, who, with both feet planted firmly on the bag, was

+obeying Perkins’s repeated command to “Hold it, Ted!” It was a close

+decision, but there was no reason to judge it as unfair, and the game

+went on with the bases again filled and Erskine’s heavy batters up.

+

+Joe Perkins stepped to the plate, gripped his bat, and looked over

+the field. Shortstop was covering second, and the infield was playing

+close. Out toward the corner of the Carey building the right-fielder

+was stepping back. Erskine’s captain had already sent two long flies

+into his territory, and it wouldn’t do to take risks. Joe looked with

+longing eyes upon a stretch of undefended territory behind first base

+and out of reach of right-fielder. If he could bring a low fly down

+there it was safe for another tally. But the pitcher had himself in

+hand again. He was more than usually deliberate and the first delivery

+didn’t lend encouragement to Joe’s hopes, for although that youth,

+staggering away from the base, sought to impress the umpire with the

+fact that the ball had gone well inside of the plate, that astute,

+black-capped person called “Strike!”

+

+The three or four hundred students who, with raincoats and umbrellas,

+were braving the discomforting drizzle, applauded. Jack, huddled

+between Clover and Northup on the bench in the lee of the west stand,

+sighed and took his hand from the folds of his sweater to beat them

+anxiously on his knees. Clover wiped the rain from his cheek and turned.

+

+“We could use a home run, couldn’t we?”

+

+“You might as well talk about winning the game,” growled Northup, who

+had overheard. “That pitcher hasn’t given any one a home run yet this

+season, and you can bet he isn’t going to present us with one.”

+

+“Ball!” droned the umpire.

+

+“Well, I’ll be satisfied with a hit,” sighed Jack.

+

+“You’re wise,” Northup answered with a grin. “There it is again,” he

+muttered then, as Joe, reaching for an outshoot, swung in the air and

+stepped back to tap the plate with his bat and look exasperated.

+

+“Say, doesn’t that make you mad,” asked Clover, “to reach for something

+when you know you shouldn’t, and then get fooled? I’ll bet Cap could

+bite nails now!”

+

+But Joe got over his annoyance the next instant, and gave his attention

+to the ball. When it had passed he sighed with relief and silently

+gave thanks to the little red-faced umpire. It was now two strikes and

+two balls. Back of first and third King and Gilberth were coaching

+frantically:

+

+“Two out, Ted! Play off! Play away off!”

+

+“Run on anything, Teddy! Two gone! Now! _Now!_ NOW!”

+

+“With two Teds on bases,” said Northup, “it seems as though something

+might happen.”

+

+“Two? Is Lowe’s name Ted?”

+

+“Yes, Theodore Coveney Lowe, Esquire, is the gentleman’s full-- _Hey!_”

+Northup was on his feet, and a second later the bench was empty. Ten

+purple-stockinged maniacs danced and shrieked over the sopping turf,

+waving sweaters and caps. Motter and Bissell and Lowe were racing home

+almost in a bunch. Joe Perkins was speeding for second. He had put the

+ball where he wanted it, well over first-baseman’s head, and yards and

+yards in front of right-fielder; had placed it there as carefully as

+though he had walked across the diamond and dropped it exactly in the

+middle of the uncovered territory.

+

+First-baseman started back for it, and the pitcher ran to cover first.

+But right-field was racing in, and it was that player who reached

+the ball first and fielded it home just too late to catch Lowe at the

+plate. Then the sphere flew back to second, but Joe, hearkening to the

+coaching, slid across the brown mud and got his fingers on a corner of

+the bag in plenty of time.

+

+There followed a pause in the progress of the game while Harvard’s

+pitcher and her captain tried to convince the umpire that Lowe had not

+touched second base in his journey toward home. In that interim the

+little band of Erskine players and substitutes gathered together and

+cheered, with the rain falling into their wide-open mouths, until the

+Harvard stand applauded vigorously.

+

+“Four to nine!” yelled Knox. “We can beat them yet!”

+

+But King, with desperate purpose written eloquently over his face, went

+to bat and ingloriously fouled out to third-baseman, and the half was

+over. Erskine never came near to scoring again, although, now that the

+ice was broken, every man felt capable of doing wonderful things, and

+tried his best to accomplish them. The difficulty was with the Harvard

+team, and notably the Harvard pitcher; they objected. But if Erskine

+was not able to add further tallies to her score, she, at least, held

+her opponents down to two more runs, Gilberth pitching a remarkable

+game, and what had looked for a time like an overwhelming defeat

+resolved itself into a creditable showing for the Purple.

+

+Jack didn’t get into the game for an instant, nor, in fact, did any of

+the substitutes. But, as he had scarcely hoped to do so, he was not

+greatly disappointed. After the game was over the team went back to

+Boston inside and outside a stage-coach, laughing, joking, cheering now

+and then, and, on the whole, very well pleased with themselves. Hanson

+didn’t see fit to dampen their enthusiasm by reminding them of the

+faults which had been plentifully in evidence, but reserved his cold

+water for the next day. They had dinner at a hotel. In the course of

+the meal, King called across the table to Joe:

+

+“I say, we’ve got old Tidball to thank for this feed, haven’t we? If it

+hadn’t been for that speech of his we’d never have had enough money in

+the treasury to buy sandwiches.”

+

+“I guess that’s so,” answered the captain.

+

+“You fellows needn’t think, though,” cautioned Patterson, “that you’re

+going to get this sort of thing every trip.”

+

+There was a groan.

+

+“Put him out!” called Gilberth.

+

+“Down with the manager!” cried King.

+

+“I wish,” said Jack to Motter, who sat at his left, “that I could take

+some of this dinner back to Tidball. I don’t believe he ever had a real

+good dinner in all his life!”

+

+“Guess you’re right,” Motter laughed. “Anyway, he doesn’t look as

+though he ever had!”

+

+Patterson distributed tickets to one of the theaters, and the men were

+cautioned to be back at the hotel promptly at eleven in order to take

+the midnight train for home.

+

+“The management doesn’t pay for these, does it?” Jack asked.

+

+“Thunder, no!” answered Motter. “The theater gives them to us, and

+advertises the fact that we’re going to be there; calls it ‘Erskine

+night.’ We’re on show, as it were. Some of the Harvard team are going,

+too. You needn’t fear that Patterson’s going to buy theater seats for

+us; you’re lucky if you get him to pay your car-fare to the station!”

+

+Jack’s experience of theaters was extremely limited, and he enjoyed

+himself thoroughly all the evening. The team occupied two big boxes at

+the left of the stage, while across the house the corresponding boxes

+were filled with members of the Harvard team. There was some cheering

+on the part of the Purple’s supporters, but neither Hanson nor Joe

+encouraged it.

+

+“Shut that up,” begged the latter, once. “They’ll think we’re a prep.

+school!”

+

+At half past eleven they got into a train at North Station and went

+promptly to sleep, two in a berth, and knew little of events until they

+were roused out in the early morning at Centerport.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVIII

+

+JACK AT SECOND

+

+

+Half a mile beyond Warrener’s Grove, the wooded bluff at the end of

+Murdoch Street, the river makes in the shore an indentation which is

+known as the Cove. It is not an attractive body of water. At some time

+in the past there was a brick-yard there, and even yet the remains of

+two weather-beaten sheds and a couple of high troughs in which the clay

+was mixed may be seen. During a spring freshet the river went over its

+banks and flowed into the pits left by the excavations. Later, the

+water and the frost connected the stagnant pond with the river; rushes

+gained foothold in the clay bottom and the old quarry took on the

+appearance of a natural cove. Save in one or two places the depth is

+but slight, and, in consequence, the Cove offers warmer bathing in the

+spring than does the river. On the side nearest the railroad there is a

+stretch of gradually shallowing water that answers all the purposes of

+a beach. It was here, then, that Anthony and Jack, during the latter

+part of May, came almost every morning, and, exchanging their clothes

+for gymnasium trunks, played the parts of teacher and pupil.

+

+The first time that Jack found the cold water lapping his knees he went

+pale with terror, and would have fled ignominiously had not Anthony

+seized and encouraged him. In the end, he allowed the other to persuade

+him to remain where he was and, after gingerly splashing himself with

+water, watch his teacher a few yards beyond illustrate the method of

+swimming. Anthony realized that he had a task before him that required

+a deal of diplomacy, and he carefully avoided saying or doing anything

+to increase Jack’s dread of the water.

+

+After four lessons Jack had gone the length of immersing himself and,

+held tightly by Anthony, had essayed a few wild strokes with arms and

+legs. Anthony strove to teach confidence first of all, and it was not

+until Jack could allow him away from his side that Anthony set about

+the easier part of his task. As soon as Jack could struggle for a few

+strokes through the water Anthony taught him to float. And it was not

+until Jack could float in every possible position that the swimming

+lessons were resumed. Then progress was rapid. By the middle of June

+Jack could swim out to a rush-covered raft which had been anchored

+about a hundred feet from shore by enterprising duck-hunters. At first

+Anthony kept beside him; later, they had races in which Anthony left

+Jack half-way to the goal; in the end, Jack found courage to swim to

+the raft and back by himself. But, as I have said, that was not until

+June was half over, and before that other things had happened.

+

+It was on the fourth of the month, a Wednesday, that Jack, for the

+first time, played a game through as second-baseman. Erskine’s

+opponents were the Dexter nine, a hard-hitting aggregation of

+preparatory schoolboys, and to meet them Hanson and Perkins put in a

+team largely composed of substitutes. This team, in batting order, was

+as follows:

+

+    Perkins, catcher.

+    King, pitcher.

+    Northup, right-field.

+    Mears, first base.

+    Weatherby, second base.

+    Smith, third base.

+    Clover, shortstop.

+    Lowe, left-field.

+    Riseman, center-field.

+

+The last six, with the exception of Lowe, were substitutes, and before

+the game was over Lowe, too, had been replaced, Showell going in for

+him. Jack’s playing that afternoon raised his stock fully a hundred

+per cent. He was in fine fettle--he had never felt better in his life

+than he had since he began his morning dips in the cold waters of the

+Cove--and covered the second of what Anthony had called the salt-bags

+in a manner that opened the eyes of his companions and caused “Wally”

+Styles much uneasiness. His batting, too, was as good as his fielding;

+he had the honor of making the first hit and the first run for Erskine,

+and was the only man on the team that afternoon, with the exception

+of Perkins, who knocked out a home run in the sixth, able to hit

+the Dexter pitcher for more than one base. In the fifth inning his

+three-bagger was clean and timely, bringing in two runs and placing him

+where he was able to score a minute after on a passed ball.

+

+Dexter made things extremely interesting for a while in the seventh

+inning, getting in two runs and filling the bases again directly

+afterward. It was Jack, then, who, in a measure, saved the day. With

+the bags all occupied, Dexter’s catcher went to bat and lined out a hot

+ball just to the right of King. There was one out. King got one hand

+on the ball, but failed to stop it. Jack, who had run forward to back

+him up, found the ball in the air and threw quickly and true to the

+plate in time to put out the runner. Then Perkins, without more than a

+second’s pause, returned it to Jack, who was again covering second, and

+Jack found the Dexter catcher two feet off base.

+

+The game ended with the score 5 to 2, and of those five tallies two

+were opposite Jack’s name. The other three belonged to Perkins and

+Northup. Jack’s record that day included four put-outs and five

+assists, and held no errors. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having

+done a good afternoon’s work that put him in such a state of elation

+that composing verse alone seemed to satisfy him. When half past

+seven arrived and he had not appeared in Anthony’s room, Anthony went

+in search of him and discovered him curled up in a ball on his bed,

+laboring with pencil and pad and flushed cheeks.

+

+“I’ve got it!” cried Jack.

+

+“Got what?” asked Anthony.

+

+“The song! Listen!” Jack squirmed about on the creaking cot until he

+had his back against the wall. Then he waved his pad triumphantly over

+his head. “It goes to the tune of ‘John Brown’s Body’; you suggested

+that, you know; and I didn’t have any trouble at all; and the rhymes

+are all right, too, I think! Now, then!” And Jack, beating time with

+his pencil, recited sonorously his verses:

+

+    “Robinson is wavering, her pride’s about to fall;

+     Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;

+     Erskine is the winner, for her team’s the best of all;

+           Oh, poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!

+

+    “Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;

+     Purple are the banners that the conq’ring heroes wave;

+     Purple are the violets above the lonely grave

+           Of poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!”

+

+“Fine!” cried Anthony. “That’s the sort of thing! Let’s see it.” He

+took the paper and, turning it to the light, began to hum, then sing

+the words to the old marching song, nodding his head in time to the

+music. Anthony had about as much melody in his voice as a raven, but

+Jack, watching and listening eagerly from the bed, thought he sang

+beautifully, and was enormously pleased with the production. When the

+final refrain was reached he joined his own voice, rocking back and

+forth in ecstasy, and the concert ended in a final triumphant burst of

+mel-- Well, no, not melody; let us say sound.

+

+“Do you like it?” Jack asked, as eager for praise of his lines as any

+poet.

+

+“Great!” Anthony answered. “And I should think it would do for a

+football song, too, wouldn’t it?”

+

+“Would it?” cried Jack. “Yes, I believe it would! That’s fine, isn’t

+it? Of course, I don’t want you to think I’m stuck up, Anthony, but I

+really think it’s better than any that the Purple has published yet.

+What do you say?”

+

+“Well, I haven’t read many of ’em; should think it might be, though.

+Better send it in right off, so it’ll be in time for the next issue,

+eh?”

+

+“Yes, I’m going to mail it to-night; as soon as I make a good copy.”

+Then, after a moment’s hesitation: “I say, Anthony, would you mind

+copying it off for me? I write such an awful fist, you know.”

+

+So they adjourned to Anthony’s room, and Jack leaned anxiously over

+his friend’s shoulder while the lines were copied in the most careful

+of copperplate chirography, folded, sealed, and addressed. Then Jack

+bought a one-cent stamp from Anthony and took the letter to the

+post-office, marching back through the warm June evening humming “Glory

+to the Purple,” and in imagination leading the cheering section at the

+Robinson game.

+

+After he had gone to sleep he dreamed that he had been appointed

+poet-laureate of Erskine College, and was being driven along Main

+Street in Gilberth’s automobile between serried ranks of applauding

+students and townfolk, his brow adorned with a golden fillet of

+laurel-leaves. The automobile was extremely spacious, since it held

+besides himself not only the faculty, but Anthony and Joe Perkins and

+the entire baseball team. When he acknowledged the plaudits of the

+multitude he had to hold his laurel wreath on with one hand, which

+annoyed him a great deal. In the end the president solved the problem

+by tying it on with a red silk handkerchief. Then, at the moment of his

+greatest triumph, Showell arose from somewhere and shouted in a voice

+that drowned the cheers: “He didn’t compose it! The writing was Anthony

+Tidball’s! I saw it!” Jack tried to deny the awful slander, but none

+would listen to him, and he awoke breathless and despairing, to find

+the sunlight streaming in the end window and the robins singing matins

+to the early day.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIX

+

+ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET

+

+

+“I wish I’d never taken the captaincy,” said Joe Perkins.

+

+“Oh, rot! What’s the good of talking that way?” asked Tracy Gilberth.

+“The nine’s coming along all right. What if Artmouth did rub it into

+us? We had an off day; every team’s liable to have them. Look at last

+year.”

+

+“I know,” answered Joe, “we had plenty of them then, and see what

+happened! We lost to Robinson, seven to nothing; we scarcely made

+a hit! If I thought--if I thought we were going to lose this year,

+I’d--I’d cut and run; honest, Tracy, I would!”

+

+“That’d be a nice thing to do, wouldn’t it?” asked the other

+disgustedly. “Fellows would be proud of you, wouldn’t they?”

+

+“It would be better than losing again,” muttered Joe.

+

+“Oh, get out, Joe! Brace up; you’re off your feed, that’s what’s the

+matter with you. I heard ‘Baldy’ telling Hanson yesterday that you were

+going stale. He didn’t mean me to hear it; but I couldn’t very well

+help it. That’s why you’re out here with me in my ‘bubble’ instead of

+taking batting practise this morning.”

+

+“Oh, I know all that. A trainer doesn’t send a fellow out for rides

+on Saturday mornings unless he’s gone stale or has something else the

+matter. I suppose I am out of sorts, Tracy. And I guess I’d rather stay

+and take a licking like a little man than run away, but--” He stopped

+and scowled ahead of him at the dusty road. Then, “It’s all well enough

+to talk about ‘honorable defeat,’ and all that, but it’s mighty hard

+to lose your big game when you’re captain and have worked hard and put

+your whole heart into it.”

+

+“Of course it is; I know that,” answered Tracy soothingly. “But you’re

+not going to lose. You’re going to win. So buck up, old chap!”

+

+“And there’s poor old Tom Higgins,” Joe continued dispiritedly. “What

+will he say? I promised him I’d win this year. He’s coming up next

+week, if he can, to coach for a few days; I told you, didn’t I? What’ll

+he think when he sees how things are going?”

+

+“Oh, Tom Higgins be blowed!” cried Tracy. “He couldn’t win himself,

+and I’d like to know what business he has finding fault with you if you

+don’t win, either?”

+

+“But I promised him----”

+

+“Well, supposing you did? If you can’t win, you can’t, and that’s all

+there is to it. Every fellow on the team is going to work as hard as

+he knows how; every fellow is going to stand by you until the last

+man’s out. If we lose, it’ll be simply because Robinson’s got a better

+baseball nine. Cheer up, now, Joe, or I’ll run this machine into the

+ditch there and send you out on your silly old nut.”

+

+The two were speeding comfortably along River Street in Tracy’s

+automobile. It was ten o’clock of a fresh morning in the first week of

+June. They had left the village a half mile behind and were _chugging_

+along over a somewhat dusty country road with green hillsides to the

+right and the gleaming river to the left. Occasionally the fragrant air

+was sullied with the smell of gasoline, and Joe sniffed disapprovingly

+and made uncomplimentary remarks about motor vehicles in general, and

+Tracy’s in particular. But Tracy, who had had his orders from Simson

+to cheer Joe up and bring him home in good spirits, refused to take

+umbrage, and declared that gasoline had a rather pleasant odor.

+

+Joe was certainly suffering from nerves, and had been ever since the

+disastrous game with Artmouth, two days before, when Erskine had

+gone down ingloriously to the tune of 17 to 1, the 1 being the result

+of good fortune rather than good playing. Perhaps, as Tracy put it,

+the team had merely had an off day; at all events its performance had

+been anything but encouraging to the supporters of the Purple, and

+had thrown Joe into the depths of despair. With the final game of the

+season, the contest with Robinson, but two weeks distant, he saw only

+defeat ahead.

+

+They were in sight of the Cove now, and Tracy suddenly pointed ahead.

+“What in thunder’s that, Joe?” he asked. Joe roused himself from

+unprofitable thoughts and looked toward the point indicated by his

+friend’s finger.

+

+“Must be a duck,” he said finally.

+

+“Duck be blowed! There aren’t any ducks around here at this time of

+year. Perhaps-- I tell you what it is, Joe, it’s a man’s head! See?

+Some one’s in swimming.”

+

+“Queer place to swim, among all those rushes,” Joe responded. “But I

+guess you’re right. We can tell for sure farther on.”

+

+“Yes. Look; there he comes out. There’s a sort of beach there,

+remember? He’s walking out, and----”

+

+“If it doesn’t look like Jack Weatherby, I’ll eat my hat!” Joe

+interrupted.

+

+“Weatherby!” echoed Tracy. “What’s he doing down here? He’s at

+practise.”

+

+“No, only the first squad from ten until eleven; he’s in the second.

+That’s who it is, Jack Weatherby.”

+

+“Rot! It doesn’t look the least bit like Weatherby to me. I tell you

+what, we’ll go over and see.”

+

+“Can you get there in this tea-kettle?” asked Joe doubtfully.

+

+“Sure; run in where the old bridge used to be; it’s just a nice little

+jounce.”

+

+“All right, only remember that I’m not made of india-rubber.”

+

+That is why Jack, when he rejoined Anthony in the shade of the old shed

+near-by, reported uneasily that an automobile, with two occupants, was

+crossing the clay field from the road, and that it must be Gilberth’s.

+Anthony finished dressing and then went to investigate. As he turned

+the corner a voice hailed him.

+

+“Hello, Tidball! Was that you, for goodness’ sake?”

+

+“Hello!” answered Anthony. “Was what me?”

+

+“The chap we saw in the water a minute ago. I could have sworn it was

+Weatherby,” Joe replied.

+

+“I was in there,” Anthony said. “Water’s nice and warm down here.”

+

+“Well, but how did you get dressed so quickly?” Joe went on,

+suspiciously. “Oh, you be blowed! It wasn’t you we saw. It was Jack

+Weatherby, wasn’t it?”

+

+“Maybe it was. He’s just dressing himself around the corner there.”

+Anthony saw that further attempt at concealing Jack’s identity was

+idle. During the conversation Tracy and Anthony had not noticed each

+other’s presence save by perfunctory nods.

+

+“Going back?” asked Joe.

+

+“Yes, as soon as Jack gets his clothes on.”

+

+“Well, get in here and go with us, can’t you? There’s lots of room, eh,

+Tracy?”

+

+Tracy nodded. He had not told Joe of Anthony’s call, and his friend

+was unaware that relations between the two were somewhat strained. Joe

+wondered at the lack of hospitality displayed.

+

+“Oh, I guess we’d rather walk,” Anthony answered, smiling a bit behind

+his spectacles.

+

+“Nonsense, you’ll get in here, both of you, and Tracy will show you

+what he calls ‘squirting through space.’ Hello, Jack!”

+

+Jack came into sight carrying the bathing-suits and towels and somewhat

+red of face. He feared that Joe and Gilberth had guessed his secret.

+

+“Hello!” he answered. “Hello, Gilberth!” The latter returned his

+salutation affably enough and Joe exclaimed:

+

+“You’re a couple of nice mud-hens, aren’t you? Why don’t you pick out a

+decent place when you want to bathe? Come on and get in; we’ll take you

+back.”

+

+Jack hesitated and looked inquiringly at Anthony. The latter’s

+expression gave no clue to his wishes, and so, in the end, Jack

+assented, and the two crowded into the carriage, and Tracy started back

+across the field toward the road. Joe seemed to have forgotten his

+troubles for the while, and the talk, ranging from baseball to final

+examinations, grew lively, even Gilberth finding his tongue at last.

+There was no hurry about getting back, he said, and so they crossed

+westward to the turnpike, and there, with a hard, safe road underneath,

+sped homeward at a rate that took Jack’s breath away and made Anthony

+hold tightly to so much of the seat as he could find. They turned

+into Main Street at the Observatory just as the clock in the tower

+of College Hall, glimpsed over the tree-tops, indicated a quarter of

+eleven.

+

+“I guess I’d better get out at William Street,” said Jack, “or I’ll be

+late at the field. Will you come along, Anthony?”

+

+“Can’t. I’ve got a recitation and I’ve already cut once this week.”

+

+“Once?” cried Gilberth. “Great Scott, I’ve cut four times!”

+

+“Well, you’d better quit it, Tracy,” Joe remonstrated, “or they’ll be

+putting you on probation, and then we’ll be beaten, sure as fate!” He

+turned to Jack. “Come to the room with me and then I’ll go out with

+you.”

+

+“You’re not allowed out there this morning,” cried Tracy. “Hanson said

+I was to keep you away until the game.”

+

+“You can’t,” Joe replied quietly. “Besides, I’m feeling fine now, and

+it would give me the horrors to have to mope around the college while

+you fellows were enjoying yourselves.”

+

+“Enjoying ourselves!” Tracy grumbled. “You’ve got a queer notion of

+enjoyment. If you think I’m happy when Hanson is throwing it into me

+because I don’t hold my bat the way they did when he was a boy, you’re

+away off, Joe.”

+

+“Well, I’m going out, anyhow,” Joe answered. Suddenly, just as they

+reached the corner of the yard, he turned to Anthony. “I say, Tidball,

+I wish you’d tell me what you two were doing at the Cove. I--I’ve got a

+reason for wanting to know.”

+

+Jack shot an admonitory glance at his friend, but Anthony didn’t

+see it; perhaps he didn’t want to. He looked gravely back at Joe and

+replied:

+

+“All right, Perkins, I’ll tell you. I was teaching Jack how to swim.”

+

+“Anthony!” cried Jack, the color flooding into his cheeks. “You

+promised!”

+

+“No, I didn’t promise, Jack,” he answered calmly. “I know you didn’t

+want me to tell, but I think the thing’s been a secret long enough.”

+

+Gilberth was frowning intensely and studying the clear road ahead,

+as though he expected a stone wall to rise out of the ground at any

+instant and bar his progress. Joe was looking curiously at Jack’s

+averted face.

+

+“King was right,” he said softly. Then, “Why in blazes didn’t you

+explain, Jack? Why didn’t you tell the fellows you couldn’t swim?”

+

+But Jack only shook his head without turning.

+

+“Pride,” said Anthony. “Jack’s full of it. I wanted to tell what the

+trouble was the next day, but he wouldn’t listen to it.” He reached

+around and placed one big, ungainly hand on Jack’s shoulder. “He’s an

+idiot, Jack is, but he’s _all right_!”

+

+Gilberth swung the machine over to the sidewalk, and stopped it in

+front of the north gate.

+

+“You’ll have to get out here,” he said gruffly. “I’ve got to take this

+thing down to the stable. You might as well stay in, though, Tidball;

+I’m going your way. So long, you fellows.”

+

+The automobile whizzed off again down Main Street, and disappeared

+around the corner of College Place. Joe and Jack watched it out of

+sight and then turned together and passed through the gate, bending

+their steps toward Sessons Hall at the upper end of the quadrangle. For

+the first part of the way neither spoke. Then Joe put his hand through

+the other’s arm and bent forward smilingly until he could see Jack’s

+flushed face.

+

+“You’re an awful fool, Jack,” he said affectionately.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XX

+

+STOLEN PROPERTY

+

+

+Erskine met with defeat that afternoon.

+

+Arrowden did pretty much as she pleased; base-hits were as plentiful

+as errors; the former were to the credit of the visitors, the latter

+were the property of the home team. When it was over, and the audience

+had clambered soberly down from the stands to shake their heads

+disappointedly over the showing of the Purple as they tramped through

+the golden evening back to the town and the college, Patterson, the

+manager, slipped his pencil back into his pocket and softly closed the

+score-book to shut from sight the obnoxious figures, 15--3. It had been

+a veritable Waterloo.

+

+In the locker-house little was said. Every one realized that the

+team had taken a slump. Hanson stood aside, and “Baldy” Simson

+became the man of the hour. His was the task of getting the men back

+into condition, a task requiring patience and vigilance and all the

+knowledge that many years of experience had brought him. This was

+no time for fault-finding; on the contrary, Hanson was silent, and

+“Baldy’s” tone was cheerful and soothing.

+

+The news of Erskine’s trouncing brought delight to the hearts of the

+Robinson players and coaches. Down there at Collegetown they had been

+having troubles of their own of late. The brown-stockinged team was

+inferior to its last year’s predecessor, and its coaches believed that

+if Erskine came to Collegetown in two weeks with a nine equal to that

+of the previous season she would win the dual championship. So it was

+that Erskine’s defeat by Arrowden brought encouragement to Robinson;

+for Robinson had met Arrowden ten days before and had shut her out to

+the tune of 5 to 0. What pleased Robinson worried Erskine. The college

+at large, with last year’s overthrow in memory, scented defeat. Hanson

+wrote four telegrams on Sunday. The tenor of all was the same; that to

+Thomas G. Higgins, captain of the defeated nine of the spring previous,

+read as follows:

+

+“Need you badly. Come at once. Wire when.”

+

+Joe Perkins dropped a pound of weight every day until the middle of the

+week. Examinations were imminent, and this fact, with his own condition

+to think of and the worry caused by the general slump, came very near

+to making him quite useless on the diamond or in class-room. There was

+no practise on Monday for those who had played against Arrowden. They

+were told to stay away from the field and rest. Joe moped in his room

+until Tracy called for him and again took him out in the automobile.

+

+Jack went to second base that afternoon, and during the hour and

+a half’s practise made a good showing. His throwing to first and

+to the plate pleased Hanson vastly. On Tuesday the first nine was

+still largely composed of substitutes. Joe and Tracy remained out

+and the battery was Knox and Griffin. “Wally” Stiles, the regular

+second-baseman, was out, but as he wore his every-day clothes Jack knew

+that the second bag was his for the afternoon.

+

+Showell played Bissell’s place at center-field during the fielding

+practise, and later, when base-running began, was selected to start the

+procession. He played well off of first in obedience to Hanson, and

+when Mears cracked a short grounder toward third base he was able to

+reach second with time to spare. Jack was standing just in front of the

+base-line, arms outstretched toward third-baseman, and Showell saw his

+opportunity to get even for the uncomfortable position in which Jack

+had placed him on the occasion of the mass-meeting. Lunging out of the

+base-line he struck Jack in the back with his left shoulder with all

+the force he could summon. Jack pitched forward on to his face, rolled

+over, and lay there, feebly kicking the turf with his heels, and

+Showell flung himself on to the bag.

+

+The nearest players ran to Jack’s assistance and found him, white of

+face, gasping painfully for breath. “Baldy” reached his side almost

+with the first, and, kneeling above his head, he took his arms and

+“pumped” them until the air was forced back into his lungs. After a

+liberal dousing with water, Jack sat up, gasping, and looked about

+him. His eyes fell on Showell, who was sitting on the bag watching

+proceedings disinterestedly, and a wave of color swept into his face.

+“Baldy” lifted him and supported him for a moment while he tried his

+feet. Jack was angry clear through and wished that he and Showell were

+alone that he might have it out with him. But he said nothing, and only

+two or three near-by players knew that the affair was not an accident.

+

+“Are you all right?” asked “Baldy.”

+

+“Yes,” Jack answered. Knox handed him his gray cap and he pulled it

+down over his forehead again and went back to the bag. Showell eyed him

+sharply, evidently on the lookout for retaliation.

+

+“You want to get out of the way,” he blustered.

+

+“You’d better keep out of my way,” Jack replied grimly.

+

+“Why, what would you do?” growled the other.

+

+But Jack made no answer, save for a glance of contempt that brought an

+angry flush into the somewhat sallow face of the other, and the game

+went on.

+

+After he had cooled off a little, Jack was heartily glad that he had

+not got into a fuss with Showell, for Hanson hated any approach to

+disagreement during practise, and was quick to show his displeasure by

+putting the offenders on to the bench for long terms of idleness. But

+Jack had the satisfaction of twice putting Showell out, once between

+first and second, and once between second and third, and of knowing

+that when the runner was replaced by another he had not made any too

+good a showing. In the locker-house Showell kept his eye on Jack, still

+not quite satisfied that the latter did not mean to resort to his

+fists to even the score, and saw Jack go out accompanied by Clover and

+Northup with feelings of relief.

+

+The next day, Wednesday, Erskine played State University with a team

+still largely made up of substitutes. Joe Perkins was back behind

+the plate and Gilberth went into left-field, King occupying the box.

+But Motter’s place at first was taken by Mears, and Jack again held

+down second. Knox was back at shortstop, but the outfield, aside from

+Gilberth, was made up of substitutes. The most encouraging feature of

+the contest was the improved condition and hard, sharp playing of

+Joe. The rest, in spite of the fact that he had fretted continually

+under the enforced idleness, had done him lots of good. Erskine won,

+5 to 0, and the students strolled back to the college talking more

+encouragingly of the nine’s chances.

+

+On Friday “Wally” Stiles got back into the practise and Jack, greatly

+to his disgust, retired again to the bench, or, to be more exact, to

+the net where Bissell was coaching a squad in bunting. Saturday’s game

+was with Erstham, and before it was half over Jack was morally certain

+that unless Stiles improved greatly during the next few days the

+second-baseman in the Robinson game would be one Jack Weatherby.

+

+Stiles, unlike most of the other players, had not recovered from the

+slump, and his playing that afternoon was deplorable. Yet, since

+Erskine took the lead in the second inning and held it throughout the

+contest, he was not replaced, Hanson hoping that he would find his pace

+before the last man was out. But he didn’t, even for a moment. The

+team, as a whole, showed up strongly, and Erstham went home with a 10

+to 2 score against her.

+

+Jack was sorry for Stiles, really and truly sorry, he told himself; yet

+he would have been less than human had he not experienced a feeling of

+delight in the thought that, after all, it was not improbable that he

+would get into the Robinson game. There was no certainty about it, of

+course, he reflected, for Stiles might, in fact probably would, take a

+brace on Monday, and, during the five days that would then intervene

+before the last contest, win back his title to the position. But there

+was ground for hope, and since Jack had hitherto never for a moment

+really expected to have a chance in the big game, that slender hope

+brought happiness. He went back to Elm Street and the sympathetic and

+patient Anthony, whistling merrily or humming “Down with Robinson,”

+much out of tune.

+

+His poetical production had duly appeared, among many others, in

+the Purple, and for several days he had been highly delighted. Each

+contribution had been signed with the author’s name, and Jack had

+experienced not a little good-natured teasing by his friends. But there

+had been praise also, for his verses were better than the rest, and

+even Professor White had congratulated him.

+

+Jack was discovering that he had a good many friends. Not many were

+intimate, to be sure, but all were apparently genuine. Joe Perkins had

+promptly spread the story of Jack’s swimming lessons, and at last the

+true reason for the latter’s failure to distinguish himself in the rôle

+of life-saver had become generally known. If the college had been quick

+to condemn, it was equally prompt to acknowledge its mistake, and

+while few fellows made mention of the matter to Jack, yet many of them

+went out of their way to show him courtesy and kindness.

+

+Tracy Gilberth had never mentioned the subject to any one since the

+truth had come out, not even to Joe. But Jack was aware that the

+varsity pitcher very frequently sought his companionship nowadays and

+seemed intent upon making up for the injustice he had done him. Jack

+willingly met him half-way, his olden longings for revenge forgotten in

+his present content. Nor, as has been said, was Tracy the only one who

+sought to ease his conscience by paying little attentions to the fellow

+he had formerly despised. From an object of scorn and derision Jack had

+changed into something approaching a hero.

+

+On the Sunday succeeding the Erstham game Jack and Anthony were seated

+in the latter’s room shortly after noon when Mrs. Dorlon knocked on the

+door and announced a caller, presently ushering in with many excited

+sniffles Professor White. The professor carried a newspaper in one hand

+and his immaculate silk hat in the other. He greeted the two and took

+the chair that Anthony promptly pushed forward. But remarks on the

+beauty and seasonableness of the weather seemed to interest him but

+little, and as soon as politeness would permit he plunged into the

+subject which had brought him.

+

+“Do you own a watch, Tidball?” he asked.

+

+Anthony stared, shot a glance at Jack, and after a moment of hesitation

+answered: “Yes, that is--well, in a way.”

+

+“You have it now?” the professor went on. Jack scented mystery, and

+listened attentively, wondering the while why Anthony looked so

+uncomfortable. Surely it was no disgrace to borrow money on one’s own

+property! Anthony hesitated again, then answered “No.”

+

+“Was it stolen?” continued the professor.

+

+“Stolen? Well, now-- But, look here, professor, suppose you tell me why

+you want to know?”

+

+“Perhaps I had better,” responded the other. “You’re probably thinking

+me pretty cheeky and inquisitive. But I was reading the paper a few

+minutes ago, and saw that they’d arrested a tramp over in Gerrydale,

+and had found a lot of pawn-tickets on him. When they visited the

+pawn-shop and recovered the property they found among other jewelry

+a watch with the inscription--let me see.” He found the place in the

+paper he held and read: “‘Gold watch and chain; former inscribed

+Anthony Z. Tidball, from Henry Wright Porter--July, 1902.’ That’s your

+name, and I thought perhaps the watch was yours. Is it?”

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXI

+

+OFF TO COLLEGETOWN

+

+

+Ere Professor White had finished Anthony was on his feet with hands

+stretching forth for the paper. The look of delight which he had

+flashed across at Jack and which still illumined his face caused that

+youth much wonderment.

+

+“Guess it’s mine, all right,” Anthony cried. The professor yielded the

+paper, and Anthony read the article through in silence. When he handed

+it back his eyes were dancing behind the lenses of his spectacles.

+“It’s mine, sir; no doubt about it! The paper says all I need do is

+prove my ownership, and I can do that easily enough, for I have the

+number of the watch!”

+

+“But, Anthony,” Jack objected, “you said that you’d----”

+

+“I’ll go over to Gerrydale in the morning,” Anthony interrupted

+hurriedly, shooting a warning glance at his friend. “I’m much obliged

+to you, sir; if you hadn’t seen that and told me I don’t believe I’d

+ever have got it back; I don’t read the papers very often myself.”

+

+“Well, I’m glad I saw it, Tidball. When was it stolen?”

+

+“About a month ago,” answered Anthony somewhat vaguely. “I left it in

+my room, and when I came back for it it was gone. Of course I never

+knew who’d taken it. But--I’m plaguy glad to find it again.”

+

+“Of course, especially since it was presented to you. What is the

+story, Tidball?”

+

+So Anthony told the professor about the rescue at Jonesboro, making it

+sound very casual and far from thrilling. But neither of his hearers

+was deceived, and insistent questioning and cross-examining finally

+gave the incident a different aspect.

+

+“Well, yes,” Anthony acknowledged, “there was quite a sea running--

+Danger? Nothing to speak of if you knew how to manage a dory-- The kid?

+Oh, he came round all right after a while; pretty near thing, though;

+another second or two would have finished him, likely. Father of the

+boy wanted me to take some money, but I wouldn’t; a fellow doesn’t take

+money for saving a life. So after he got home he sent me the watch.

+That’s all. Good deal of fuss about it.”

+

+After the professor had taken his departure, insisting, for some

+reason, on shaking hands with the tall, ungainly junior, Jack turned

+upon Anthony and began his questions.

+

+“I didn’t come right out, Jack, and say I’d pawned the watch,” Anthony

+explained, “but I gave you to understand that. The fact is I didn’t

+know what had become of it, and there wasn’t any use saying it had been

+stolen as long as I wasn’t certain about it. I left it in the room one

+morning when I went to recitation. I missed it in class, and came back,

+and couldn’t find it. I guess the tramp found the door open and walked

+in.”

+

+“When was it?” asked Jack.

+

+“Oh, well, about a month ago.”

+

+Jack looked thoughtful, and Anthony eyed him uneasily. At last Jack

+brought one fist into the palm of his other hand and jumped up.

+

+“Anthony! Was it the morning I went off?”

+

+Anthony hesitated; but the boy’s face showed that he had no suspicion

+that Anthony had for a while connected him with the missing article.

+

+“Why, yes, it was,” replied Anthony.

+

+“I thought so!” Jack cried. “I remember now that I saw a

+trampish-looking fellow on the street when I came from breakfast. I

+passed him. I didn’t pay much attention, though, because I was--feeling

+sort of knocked out. But once I heard a noise in the entry here while

+I was packing. I’ll bet it was the tramp. And I remember seeing your

+watch on the table in your room, Anthony, when I took that note in

+there, and--why, come to think of it, I put the note under the watch!”

+

+“He followed you in, I guess,” said Anthony.

+

+“That’s just what he did. And when I went out he was in your room, I’ll

+bet. And--and he took my money, too, don’t you suppose? I must have

+left it out somewhere!”

+

+“That’s about what happened,” Anthony replied, grinning jovially. “I

+wish you could get your money back; but I guess that’s too much to hope

+for.”

+

+“I suppose so. Oh, I don’t care now. But I am glad you’re going to

+recover your watch, Anthony. Wouldn’t it have been funny if I’d gone

+back into your room again and found him there?”

+

+“Yes, but you might have got laid out!”

+

+“Laid out nothing! I’ll bet I could have whipped that chap. And I would

+have saved your watch, and----”

+

+“Missed your train!”

+

+“Yes, so I would have. I wonder if it would have made any difference? I

+fancy it’s best the way it all happened.” He considered the subject for

+a moment in silence. Anthony beamed across at him happily. He was glad

+he was to get his watch back, but gladder still that the last doubt as

+to Jack’s honesty was dispelled; and, oh, so very glad that Jack knew

+nothing of his idiotic suspicions!

+

+“There’s something I ought to tell you, Anthony,” said Jack suddenly.

+He looked rather ashamed and apologetic and very serious. “I’ve thought

+of owning up several times, but--I never did,” he continued.

+

+“Owning up? Well--what is it, Jack? Murder?”

+

+“No, it’s--it’s robbery!” Anthony stared.

+

+“That morning I went away,” he continued, “I--I took something of yours

+with me. It wasn’t much, but I shouldn’t have taken it.”

+

+“Why, what was it?” Anthony asked wonderingly. “I haven’t missed

+anything.”

+

+“No; but then, I put it back afterward. It was a pencil.”

+

+“A pencil!”

+

+“Yes, the green one with the rubber tip; the one you used to have

+on your desk. I--I wanted something to remember you by,” he added

+shamefacedly. “And so I took that. I thought you wouldn’t care. I was

+going to write and tell you when I got home.”

+

+“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed Anthony. “I missed that pencil for

+two or three days, and then one morning it turned up again on the desk.

+But, hang it, Jack, you were welcome to the old thing, of course! I’m

+glad you took it--glad you cared to remember such a silly old codger as

+I! Why, that was nothing; not worth mentioning. Besides, you gave me

+that charm, and fair exchange is no robbery!”

+

+“I’m glad you don’t mind now that you know,” said Jack simply. And,

+after a moment: “When you get your watch back again you can wear that

+bean, can’t you?” he asked.

+

+“Well, I should say so!” replied Anthony with much decision. “And

+what’s more, Jack, I’ll wear it as long as the chain holds together!”

+

+There was no difficulty the next day in recovering the watch. Anthony

+gave a detailed description of it, and explained the circumstances of

+the robbery, and his property was handed over to him at once. But it

+is needless to say that Jack’s roll of money was not among the objects

+recovered from the pawn-shop, nor was it found on the prisoner. Anthony

+was told that it might become necessary for him to attend the trial and

+give evidence. But he begged off very eloquently, and in the end the

+police decided that perhaps there would be evidence enough to convict

+the thief without calling upon Anthony. And, as it turned out, the

+decision was correct.

+

+Jack never learned that Anthony had for a while suspected him of

+the theft of the watch; and it was better so. For while Anthony’s

+suspicions were certainly justified by circumstances, yet Jack could

+never have seen the matter in the same light, and would have been

+greatly hurt had he ever learned of it.

+

+In the second week of June two things began simultaneously, final

+examinations and morning baseball practise. Naturally, the first

+seriously interfered with the second, and it was only by the most

+complicated arrangement on the part of Hanson that the players were

+able to report at the nets during the forenoons for batting practise.

+Three assistant coaches had put in appearance in response to his

+telegrams, among them the captain of the unsuccessful nine of the year

+before. Higgins was a good player and turned out to be as good a coach.

+His heart was set on witnessing a victory over the Brown and he worked

+enthusiastically and tirelessly. Afternoon practise began every day

+at three-thirty, and never let up as long as there was a ray of light

+left. The slump was a thing of the past, and every man responded well

+to the demands of the coaches. Stiles gradually recovered his form,

+and in the last game before the final contest--played on Thursday with

+Harwich Academy--he superseded Jack at second, and Jack, his hopes

+dead, sat on the bench and tried to be philosophic.

+

+That Thursday game attracted the biggest audience of any thus far

+played; not because the Academy team was strong enough to promise a

+hard-fought battle, but for the reason that it was given out that the

+Erskine nine was to play just as it would in the game at Collegetown

+the next day but one. The batting list was as follows:

+

+    Perkins, catcher.

+    Gilberth, pitcher.

+    Motter, first base.

+    Bissell, center-field.

+    Stiles, second base.

+    Knox, shortstop.

+    Billings, third base.

+    King, left-field.

+    Northup, right-field.

+

+Allowing for the fact that every man had been worked hard all the week

+up to the very beginning of the game, and that examinations were in

+progress, the exhibition of ball-playing made by them was decidedly

+encouraging. The cheering was a notable part of the contest. Led by the

+senior class president and five assistants, the stands did heroic work,

+and cheers and songs thundered forth unceasingly.

+

+Jack, sitting forlornly on the bench, wedged in between other

+substitutes quite as forlorn, found balm for his disappointed hopes in

+the fact that the song that went the best of any, and the one which was

+most often sung, was his. The way in which the throng emphasized the

+“Poor old Robinson!” was good to hear.

+

+When the game was at an end--it was almost dark by then--the spectators

+marched back down William Street to the college, cheering and singing

+all the way. Jack, trotting over to the locker-house in the wake of

+the other players, heard from down the street the refrain arising

+splendidly to the summer sky:

+

+    “Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;

+     Purple are the banners that the conq’ring heroes wave;

+     Purple are the violets above the lonely grave

+           Of poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!”

+

+The enthusiasm didn’t cease until late at night. After dinner the

+fellows thronged the yard in front of Walton and the cheers and songs

+were gone through with again and again.

+

+There was little work the following day for the players. Morning

+practise was omitted, and in the afternoon a little running and

+throwing to bases constituted the program. In the evening there was

+a reception to the nine and substitutes in Brown Hall, and again

+enthusiasm was rampant. The Glee Club sang, the college band played,

+the fellows cheered, the dean and Professor Nast and the coaches and

+Captain Joseph Perkins made speeches, and there was a grand hullabaloo

+until half past nine.

+

+Jack bade good-by to Anthony that night, for the nine and substitutes

+were to go to Collegetown in the morning on a train that left at half

+past six. The supporters were to follow on a later train, but Anthony

+was not to be among them.

+

+“I wish I were going,” he said, “but I just can’t afford it, Jack. But

+I’ll be down on the street in the afternoon, and while you’re knocking

+base runs and such things you’ll know that I’m flinging my cap for you

+here at home.”

+

+“It’s little chance I’ve got,” said Jack sadly. “But I may get on for a

+while, Anthony. Anyhow, I wish you were going along.”

+

+“So do I. Good night, Jack, and good luck to you and the nine and old

+Erskine. You’ll play, of course; they can’t win without you, Jack! Good

+night!”

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXII

+

+AT THE END OF THE SIXTH

+

+

+If you are so fortunate as to be occupying a seat in the stand running

+parallel with the line to first base, and if you are about midway

+between that base and the home plate, you may congratulate yourself

+upon being in the best place of all from which to watch the game.

+Under ordinary conditions you have a clear view of every player, the

+batsman, unless he is left-handed, is facing you, and the run to first

+base is made directly in front of you. Make yourself as comfortable as

+the narrow board seat and uncompromising back will permit, be grateful

+for the clear sky and warm sunlight, which, if it beats a little too

+ardently upon your cheek, makes up for it by limbering the joints and

+muscles of the players and urging them to their best efforts, and

+watch the game, prepared to applaud good work, joyfully if performed

+by your side, ungrudgingly if by the other, and to accept victory with

+gratitude and defeat with equanimity.

+

+From where you sit you see first the Erskine players on their bench at

+the foot of the sloping stand, their purple caps thrust back on their

+heads or held in their hands. You can’t see their faces, but their

+broad shoulders suggest the best of physical condition. Beyond them

+to the right a white deal table is occupied by four men who are busy

+writing the history of the contest.

+

+At the feet of the players the field begins, a level expanse of closely

+cropped turf, which stretches away for a quarter of a mile like a great

+green carpet. Beyond the field is a thicket of trees, elms, chestnuts,

+and maples. Beyond that, again, the warmly red roof of the gymnasium

+peers forth, the forerunner of many other roofs and turrets and towers

+set sparsely at first amid the foliage, but quickly grouping together

+about the campus. There lies Robinson College. To the left, where the

+white spire pierces the tree-tops and glistens against the blue sky,

+the village of Collegetown commences and straggles away to a tiny

+river, no wave or ripple of which is from here visible.

+

+But you have wandered far afield. About you the tiers are gay with

+purple flags and ribbons, but farther along to your left the purple

+gives place grudgingly to brown, and from there on in a long sweep of

+color the brown holds sway even beyond third base. Four hundred among

+four thousand is as a drop in a bucket. Yet the four hundred is massed

+closely together, and every unit of it flaunts a purple banner, and is

+tireless in cheering and in song. Across the diamond the Robinson band

+plays lustily between the innings; you can see the leader swinging his

+little black wand, the cornetist’s cheeks rising and falling like a

+pair of red bellows, the player of the base drum thumping away with his

+padded stick; but you hear nothing--nothing save an occasional muffled

+boom from the big drum; how can you when all about you cheers are

+thundering forth for “_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_” Your throat is dry

+and parched, the perspiration is trickling down your cheek, and your

+eyes are dazzled with the sunlight; but you’re as happy as a clam at

+high tide, for the sixth inning has begun, neither side has yet scored,

+Erskine is at bat, and your heart’s in your mouth!

+

+Five innings without a tally doesn’t sound exciting, and yet, if

+we except the second, every one of those five innings had kept the

+audience on the edges of the seats. In every inning save the second

+Robinson had placed men on bases, and at the end of each the supporters

+of the Purple had heaved sighs of heartfelt relief, finding sufficient

+satisfaction in the fact that the Brown had not scored. Only once

+had Erskine dared hope for a tally. That was in the third. The tally

+didn’t come. It had been a pitcher’s battle, and the palm had gone to

+Vose, the tall, thin fellow whose spindle-shanks were encased in brown

+stockings. Not a single hit had been made off him, while Gilberth had

+been struck freely, yet had frequently managed to puzzle the batsman

+when a single would have brought in a run, or possibly two. When summed

+up it came to this: Erskine had been outplayed, and that Robinson did

+not now lead by several tallies was due to her inability to make her

+hits at the right time. The players of each college, in batting order,

+were as follows:

+

+        ERSKINE

+    Perkins, catcher, captain.

+    Motter, first base.

+    Gilberth, pitcher.

+    Bissell, center-field.

+    Knox, shortstop.

+    King, left-field.

+    Northup, right-field.

+    Stiles, second base.

+    Billings, third base.

+

+        ROBINSON

+    Cox, first base.

+    Condit, catcher.

+    Hopkins, third base.

+    Morgan, shortstop.

+    Devlin, left-field.

+    Wood, center-field, captain.

+    Richman, second base.

+    Regan, right-field.

+    Vose, pitcher.

+

+

+At the beginning of the sixth inning it was anybody’s game. Billings,

+the tag-ender, went to bat. On the Erskine stand the cheering died

+away and the purple flags ceased waving and fluttering in the still

+afternoon air. Across the diamond the band laid aside its instruments,

+and the shadow of the western stand crept along the turf until its

+edge touched the line of white that marked the coacher’s box. On the

+players’ benches the men leaned forward anxiously and watched Billings

+thrust his cap back and grip his bat determinedly.

+

+But it was soon evident to the watchers that Erskine was not to score.

+Billings hit a short grounder to first-baseman who scooped it up and

+tagged the bag before the batsman was half-way toward it. Joe Perkins

+had two strikes called on him ere he found the ball, and sent a high

+foul into the hands of left-fielder. He tossed aside the bat with a

+look of disgust and paused on his way back to the bench to whisper

+into the ear of Motter, the next victim to the deceptive curves of the

+merciless Vose. Joe crowded into a space between Billings and Tracy

+Gilberth.

+

+“_I_ can’t find him,” he sighed.

+

+“No, hang him,” growled Tracy, “he’s too much for any of us. But I’ll

+bet he’ll let down before the game’s over; and then--well, then we want

+to be ready, Joe!”

+

+“Do you think he will? It doesn’t look like it.”

+

+Tracy nodded knowingly.

+

+“His arm’s getting stiff. I know the signs. So’s mine, for that matter,

+and I’ve pitched perfectly rotten ball, Joe!”

+

+“Nonsense, you’ve done good work. But let me know as soon as you want

+to quit, Tracy. How about the next inning?”

+

+“That’s for you to say,” answered Tracy. “But I guess I can hold out

+through the seventh, if you don’t mind.”

+

+“All right; I’ll put King in for the eighth. Oh, hang! Come on,

+fellows! Out on the run!”

+

+Motter had struck out, and was trotting to his position at first,

+drawing on his glove and looking wofully sad. The Robinson band struck

+up again, and the Erskine contingent, not to be outdone, started the

+cheers once more, while the purple-sleeved players spread out over the

+diamond.

+

+Joe thumped his big mitten and Tracy picked up the ball. The umpire,

+a rotund little man in a navy-blue blouse shirt, ran nimbly to his

+position.

+

+“First man!” cried Joe confidently.

+

+The batsman was the Robinson captain and center-fielder, Wood. Tracy

+was not greatly afraid of Wood, and so saved his arm by pitching a

+few slow balls, none of which the Robinson captain was able to touch.

+When he struck out the Erskine cheers rang across the field. Richman

+came next. He was the first of the Brown’s tail-enders on the batting

+list, and he followed the way of his captain, while the purple flags

+fluttered joyously.

+

+Perhaps Tracy was overconfident, for when Regan, the enemy’s

+right-fielder, stepped to the plate, he shook his head at Joe’s signal

+for an outshoot, and sent a straight, slow ball over the corner of the

+base. And Regan got it on his bat and sent it arching in easy flight

+toward second, and raced for the bag.

+

+“Mine!” called Stiles.

+

+“Take it!” shouted little Knox, backing him up.

+

+But Stiles didn’t take it. Instead he let it slip through his fingers,

+and so when Knox had recovered and fielded it to Motter the runner was

+safe.

+

+“Twenty minutes!” yelled the Robinson coach derisively. Then he began a

+desperate effort to rattle Gilberth. “On your toes!” he shrieked. “Go

+on, go on! He daren’t throw it! Way off now! I’ll look out for you! Way

+off! Now! _Now!_ NOW!”

+

+Tracy was disgusted because he had allowed Regan to hit him, and the

+shrieks of the coacher annoyed him. Earlier in the game he would not

+have minded twenty coachers, but now his arm was aching and growing

+stiff and tired and his temper and nerves were not so well in command.

+The next batsman was Vose, the Robinson pitcher. Vose was the poorest

+performer with the stick of any of his team, and in the natural order

+of things should have been struck out without difficulty. But this

+time he found the second ball that came to him and hit it safely into

+right-field, and Regan took second. Then came Cox, the head of the

+batting list, and swung his ash wickedly while he waited.

+

+There were coaches behind both first and third now, and their shrieks

+hurtled back and forth across the diamond. Tracy looked bothered, and

+Joe strove to hide his anxiety under a show of confidence.

+

+“Next man, fellows!” he called cheerily. Motter took his cue from him

+and added his voice. “He’s a goner, Tracy! Strike him out, old man!”

+

+And for a while it seemed that Tracy would do it. But when the little

+fat umpire had called two strikes and two balls on him Cox managed to

+find something that suited him, and cracked it out past shortstop.

+Regan reached third, and, with two out, the bases were full. Joe and

+Tracy had a whispered consultation, while the Robinson stands hooted

+derisively, and then took their places again. Condit, the Brown’s

+catcher, and one of the best batters, tapped the plate and looked as

+though he meant to bring in a run. The coachers kept up their medley of

+taunts and warnings, but Tracy had found his head again and paid not

+the slightest attention.

+

+The first ball went wide, and Joe’s brilliant stop brought forth a

+burst of applause. Tracy hurried up, apologetic, keeping an eye on the

+bases. “Sorry, Joe,” he said.

+

+“All right, old man,” answered the captain cheerfully. “Now let’s put

+him out.”

+

+Two strikes followed.

+

+“Good eye, Tracy!” “Fine work, old man!” “That’s the pitching!”

+encouraged the infielders. Then the batsman elicited laughter and

+applause from his supporters by crossing the plate and suddenly

+becoming a left-handed batter. Tracy looked surprised, and his next two

+efforts were pronounced balls. Joe leaned far to the left and squeezed

+his hands between his knees. Tracy nodded. But the batsman was an

+old hand, and was not deceived by the inshoot that followed. “Three

+balls!” cried the umpire. Everything depended on the next pitch. Tracy

+straightened his arms, swung his foot, and hurled a straight ball waist

+high for the plate. Condit met it with his bat, but failed to hit it

+squarely, and it went high into the air, and the men on bases raced

+toward home.

+

+When the sphere came down it was undeniably second-baseman’s ball, and

+Stiles stood ready for it. Regan reached home, and the next man, Vose,

+swung around third. Suddenly a shout of joy burst from the Robinson

+stands and the coachers were screaming like mad. Stiles had muffed!

+

+Vose, with a coacher racing along beside him, sped for home. But Knox

+had seized the ball almost before it had touched the ground, and now

+he threw it straight and sure toward the plate. Vose hurled himself

+forward when fully ten feet distant, and slid for his goal, but the

+ball was there before him, and Joe’s right hand swept down and tagged

+him. The side was out. The Erskine players hurried in to the bench, and

+Gilberth picked out his bat.

+

+It was the beginning of the seventh inning, but the score was no longer

+a blank; Robinson led 1 to 0. The band played wildly. Jack Weatherby,

+on the bench, felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find Hanson

+speaking.

+

+“You cover second, Weatherby,” said the coach.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXIII

+

+A TRIPLE PLAY

+

+

+The seventh inning began with Tracy Gilberth at bat. He watched Vose

+with interest while that lanky youth settled himself to his task,

+hopeful that at last Robinson’s star player was weary enough to allow

+the opponents to hit him. But Tracy was doomed to disappointment.

+Vose’s arm was tired, beyond a doubt, but he only took more time at

+his work, his curves remaining as puzzling as ever. Tracy struck out

+ingloriously, just as he had done pretty much all through the game.

+Vose was still on his mettle.

+

+Bissell’s fate was the same, while as for Knox, although he managed, by

+good judgment, to get three balls to his credit, yet in the end he too

+tossed aside his bat in deep disgust; and the nines again changed sides.

+

+Robinson’s first man up was the redoubtable Hopkins; he had gained

+the sobriquet of “Hard-hitting Hopkins” last season. So far to-day,

+while he had managed to find Tracy rather frequently, his hits had

+netted little. But Tracy judged discretion the better part of valor,

+and deliberately gave Hopkins his base, while the purple-decked stands

+hooted loudly. Having given the other his base, Tracy next tried to

+take it away from him, but Hopkins was quick on his feet and time and

+again Motter got the ball too late to tag him out. Tracy gave it up

+finally, and turned his attention to the next batsman, Morgan.

+

+Morgan popped a foul to the foot of the stand, and Joe, hurling aside

+his mask, got it after a brilliant sprint of twenty yards. Devlin

+struck out and Hopkins stole second. The Brown’s captain came to the

+plate with determination to do great deeds written large on his face.

+After getting two strikes on him, Tracy couldn’t put the ball over the

+base, and Wood walked to first.

+

+Then, with two on bases, Robinson saw visions of another tally. But

+Tracy settled down again and struck out the third man, Richman, and

+again the Erskine contingent sighed with relief and cheered gleefully.

+

+Jack, who during the inning had had nothing to do, trotted in and

+examined the score-book over Patterson’s shoulder. He found that he

+would be the third man at bat, and wondered a bit nervously whether

+he would have any better success with the mighty Vose’s curves than

+had his predecessor, who was now sitting weary and dispirited on the

+bench. King, who during the first half of the previous inning had been

+limbering up his arm, was put in for Tracy, and Lowe took his place in

+left-field. Tracy sprawled himself down on the grass beside Jack with a

+sigh.

+

+“I wish to thunder I’d been able to hit that dub Vose just one!” he

+growled.

+

+“What’s he like?” Jack asked.

+

+“Like a Chinese puzzle,” Tracy replied grimly. “When you try him,

+Weatherby, look out for his drops; they’re the worst; they come

+straight to about four feet from the plate, then they go down so fast

+that you can’t see ’em. His inshoots are simple compared with those

+drops. Watch for fast balls, and when you see one coming, slug it! Make

+him think you can’t bat, Weatherby; it’s your first time up, and maybe

+you can fool him.”

+

+“I’ll try,” Jack answered dubiously. “_Good work, King!_”

+

+King was speeding to first, having made a clean hit to the outfield

+just over shortstop’s head. The Erskine stand burst into wild and

+confused cheering. Northup selected his bat and went to the plate,

+and Joe Perkins, after whispering directions into his ear, ran to the

+white line back of first base and began coaching King at the top of his

+lungs. Vose settled the ball in his hands, tapped the earth with his

+brass-toed shoe, and glanced sharply toward the runner.

+

+“Play off, Greg!” shouted Joe. “He won’t throw! He’s too tired! Now,

+now, now! This time! _Look out!_”

+

+King scuttled around back of the bag and reached it before the baseman

+swung at him with the ball.

+

+“Hold it, he’s got the ball!” cautioned Joe. “All right, now; on your

+toes. Down with his arm! He won’t throw again!”

+

+Vose looked as though he intended to, then turned quickly and pitched.

+The ball went wide, and had it not struck Northup on the hip would

+have given King two bases, since the Robinson catcher would never have

+stopped it. As it was, King, who was almost to second, trotted back and

+tagged base. The umpire waved his hand to Northup, and the latter went

+limping to first. King jogged to second, and the Erskine cheers drowned

+every sound for several minutes. Two on bases and none out! It looked

+like a tally.

+

+Joe yielded his place to Motter, sent Bissell to coach King from third,

+and caught Jack on his way to the plate. He had to put his mouth to

+Jack’s ear in order to make himself heard above the shouting.

+

+“We’ve got to advance King, Jack,” he said. “Wait for a good one, and

+make a slow bunt toward third; you know the way, old man. Swipe at

+the first ball as though you were going to knock it over the fence!

+Then wait for what you want. Keep steady, Jack!” He clapped him on the

+shoulder encouragingly and sped back to first.

+

+Jack’s hope of rapping out a two-bagger was gone. Joe’s directions were

+not to be disregarded, and it was a case of substituting team-play

+for ambition. He settled his cap, wiped his perspiring hands on his

+trousers, and gripped his bat. When he faced Vose he found that person

+eying him intently, appraising his ability as a batsman. Jack smiled

+easily--despite that he felt terribly nervous, and that the muscles at

+the back of his legs were twitching--and waved his bat forward and back

+a couple of times as though to say: “Right there, please, and I’ll show

+you how it’s done!”

+

+Vose looked about the bases very deliberately, and then offered Jack

+an outshoot. Jack was glad that he had been told to hit at the first

+delivery, for the mere act of swinging his stick fiercely through the

+air eased his nerves. He struck at least a foot too late, and the

+Robinsonians laughed and jeered. Vose thought he knew his man then,

+and tried the same ball again, and the umpire shook his head and waved

+his left hand. Jack waited; two balls; strike two; then he saw what he

+wanted, turned a trifle to the left, brought his bat around quickly

+and easily, and, as he ran to first, knew that he had succeeded.

+

+The sphere, a new and very white one it was, went rolling toward third

+base just inside the line. King was making for that base, too, and the

+baseman indulged in just that instant of hesitation that is fatal. The

+ball was his to field, yet he feared that if he left his bag none would

+cover it. When he finally got the ball, reaching it a second before

+Vose, King was safe on third, Northup was sliding for second, and Jack

+had crossed first. He tossed the sphere to the pitcher, and the latter

+went back to the box scowling wrathfully. The Erskine stand was a bank

+of purple. The senior class president, bareheaded, wilted of collar and

+crimson of face, was standing on a seat leading the singing:

+

+    “Robinson is wavering, her pride’s about to fall;

+     Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;

+     Erskine is the winner, for her team’s the best of all;

+           _Oh, poor old Robinson!_”

+

+Billings went to bat. Motter was whispering instructions to Jack on

+first. Vose, calm of face, looked about the bases, while his support

+called encouragingly to him. Then, before his arm was well back, Jack

+had started like an express-train toward second. At the same instant

+King made as though to dash home, and Northup played off half-way to

+third. The delivery was a poor one, but Condit stopped it, threw off

+his mask, and, bewildered, threw to second.

+

+It was a costly mistake, for King was sliding across the plate before

+second-baseman had received the ball, and the Erskine fellows were

+hugging each other uproariously. Jack had flown back toward first, but

+half-way there he paused. Northup was caught on his way to third, and

+now was dancing back and forth with the ball crossing and recrossing

+above his head, and shortstop and third-baseman closing in on him every

+second. Then he stumbled and shortstop was on him like a flash, and he

+crawled to his feet to dust the loam from his shirt and trot off the

+field. Meanwhile Jack had made a good slide for second, and had beaten

+the ball.

+

+The score was tied, there was but one out, and a man on second! Is it

+any wonder that Erskine’s supporters went mad with delight and danced

+and shouted and threw flags and caps into the air?

+

+When things had settled down once more Billings stepped back into the

+box. From behind him came imperative demands for a home run. Billings

+tried his best to accommodate his friends the next instant, for there

+was a loud _crack_, and the ball went arching high and far toward

+right-field. But when it descended the Robinson fielder was under it,

+and Billings stopped his journey around the bases and came back. The

+left-fielder sped the ball home quickly, but not soon enough to keep

+Jack from reaching third.

+

+The Robinson band had started bravely to work once more, but across the

+diamond the Erskine leaders had brought order out of chaos, and four

+hundred purple-flaunting enthusiasts were again cheering slowly and in

+unison:

+

+“_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah,

+rah! Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_”

+

+And the cheers took on new force when it was seen that the Purple’s

+captain was the next batsman. Joe had given a message to King, and

+now King was imparting it to Jack down at third base, and Jack was

+nodding back to Joe. Robinson’s catcher, Condit, was badly rattled,

+and Joe knew it and was planning accordingly. The stands settled down

+into comparative quietude, and Vose, still calm and confident-looking,

+pitching the game of his life, faced his new opponent. The outfield

+came in a bit.

+

+Vose’s first delivery was easily a ball, and his second was undeniably

+a strike. Then followed an outshoot and a drop, neither of which did

+Joe take to. Back went the ball to Vose, and, with King shouting

+weirdly at third, he shot his arms overhead and sped it again toward

+the plate. Then an odd thing happened.

+

+The ball was a drop. Joe struck at it hard, dropped his bat, and flew

+toward base. The catcher, who had stopped the ball on the ground,

+stood up, glared bewilderedly, and then, concluding that it had been

+the third strike, threw to first-baseman, Vose shouting warnings which

+he did not hear. Jack, the moment Joe had struck, had started warily

+toward home, and although first-baseman caught the ball and hurled it

+back to the plate in the next instant, he was lying above the base in a

+cloud of dust ere the catcher tagged him. Again pandemonium broke lose

+on the Erskine stand. The Purple was one run ahead.

+

+Joe trotted back to the plate and picked up his bat, and Jack went to

+the bench, dusty, panting, and happy, to be hugged and slapped by the

+delighted occupants. There followed a pause in the game’s progress

+during which Robinson’s captain sought to find a rule that would

+put Jack back on third. But Joe’s strategy was within the law, and

+presently the Robinson catcher picked up his mask miserably and the

+captain, disgruntled, went slowly back to his position in center-field.

+

+The incident appeared to have discouraged both the battery and the

+support. Vose took up his work listlessly, and in a moment Joe was

+walking to first on four balls. A minute later he had stolen second.

+Motter bunted toward first, and beat the ball to base. Joe took third.

+Vose was now plainly rattled, and a wild pitch became a passed ball,

+and Motter went to second, Joe, however, fearing to attempt to score.

+Then Lowe took up the stick.

+

+Lowe bided his time, and had two strikes called on him before he swung

+his bat. When he did he found the ball fairly, and drove a terrific

+grounder into outfield between first and second bases. Joe jogged home

+from third, and Motter, his legs making a purple streak, sped like the

+wind to third. Lowe sat down on first and tied his shoe. Bissell went

+to bat, and was deceived by a drop that absolutely hit the plate. And

+right there the half ended, for Lowe tried to steal second, and was put

+out four feet from the bag.

+

+There was joy in the Erskine camp. The score stood now 3 to 1. If her

+players could hold Robinson from further scoring the day was won. And,

+with King in the pitcher’s box, it seemed that it might be done. Regan

+went to bat for Robinson, and stood there idly swinging his stick while

+the umpire sang: “Strike one!... Strike two!... Striker’s out!” And

+then, to fill Erskine’s cup overflowing with delight, King struck out

+Vose and Cox in just the same way; and the cheering broke forth anew,

+loudly, triumphantly. And the ninth and last inning began with little

+Knox at the bat.

+

+It would be pleasant to relate how Knox knocked a home run and how

+Erskine continued the performance inaugurated in the preceding inning.

+Unfortunately, that is impossible. Knox was struck out, King was thrown

+out at first, Northup made a base hit, but was left there a minute

+later when Jack flied out miserably to Vose. The stands were emptying

+themselves of their throngs and supporters of the rival colleges

+crowded along the base-lines cheering doggedly or ecstatically, as the

+case might be. King picked up the ball, Joe donned his mask, Motter

+thumped his mit, and Jack, at second, danced about from one foot to

+the other out of sheer joy. Near at hand Knox was grinning like a

+schoolboy, and calling shrilly to King to “Eat ’em up, Greg!”

+

+“First man, fellows!” cried Joe cheerfully.

+

+Condit stepped to the plate. He was pale, and looked an easy victim.

+But luck turned its back upon the Purple, for at his second delivery

+King struck the Robinson catcher on the elbow, and the latter took his

+base. Robinson’s friends took courage, and their cheers thundered over

+the field. Then came Hopkins, the “hard-hitter,” and swung his bat

+knowingly. King realized that here was foeman worthy of steel, and was

+accordingly careful.

+

+But Hopkins was desperate. He found the second ball, and it went flying

+toward center-field. Bissell failed to reach it in time to get his

+hands on it before it struck the ground, and Hopkins gained second,

+Condit going to third. Morgan followed with a slow grounder toward

+King. King fielded it to first too late, after making sure that Condit

+was not trying to score, and the bases were full. A home run would win

+for Robinson! A two-base hit would tie the score!

+

+The brown banners flaunted and gyrated in the air, throwing strange

+dancing silhouettes upon the turf. The shadow of the western stand had

+lengthened across the infield. Back of the stand the sky was aglow with

+orange, while toward the village a golden haze filled the air.

+

+The throng at large was silent, intense, expectant. Yet here and there

+sections of the throng still shouted, and back of the dense wall of

+spectators on the Robinson side of the field the band was playing.

+A cheer, undismayed yet faint, ran along the ranks of the Erskine

+supporters. It is hard to shout when your heart is throbbing away up in

+your throat. Devlin went to bat, his determined chin thrust forth and

+his sharp eyes sparkling from between half-closed lids as he watched

+the pitcher. Joe Perkins half knelt behind him and held a big mitten

+invitingly open on his left knee.

+

+“Steady, fellows!” he called cheerfully. “Play for the plate!”

+

+His voice rang true, with never a quiver in it. Yet now and then his

+heart raced and thumped for an instant in a way that turned him half

+faint. Despite the tiny beads of perspiration that trickled down his

+face, he was livid, and the fingers in the hot leathern mit trembled

+and twitched. If he could keep those brown-legged players from crossing

+the plate the game was won for Erskine and his labors and hopes were

+crowned with success. If! He groaned as he thought of all that might

+happen ere the third man was put out. For the first time during the

+contest he was nervous; for the first time almost in memory he was

+frightened through and through. Then his gaze swept over the field and

+he saw Motter at first carelessly flipping a pebble across the grass,

+Weatherby alert and impatient at second, Northup shading his eyes with

+his hand as he stood motionless in right-field, Knox calling blithely

+to King as he slapped his hands together, and beyond, Bissell and Lowe,

+their figures throwing long, slanting shadows across the turf. Then

+King’s left hand wandered carelessly across his forehead, his arms shot

+up, and Joe, reaching out, drew in the first delivery.

+

+“Strike,” droned the umpire.

+

+Joe’s fright passed with the settling of the sphere in his hands. The

+blood crept back into his cheeks and courage into his heart. Returning

+the ball, he eased his mask, thumped his hands together, and called

+confidently to King.

+

+“That’s the eye, Greg; once more!”

+

+Erskine applauded grandly. Then followed two balls. The coaches were

+shouting like maniacs and the runners were set, like sprinters on the

+mark, ready to spring into flight on the instant. Joe signaled a drop.

+It came, and Devlin tried and missed.

+

+“Strike two,” droned the little umpire.

+

+Again the supporters of the Purple shouted and waved their colors

+against the evening sky. King swept a glance about the bases, unmindful

+of the coachers’ taunts, settled himself once more, and pitched.

+Devlin’s body moved quickly forward, ball and bat met squarely, Devlin

+raced toward first, and the runners on the bases sprang away.

+

+Out by second, Jack, on his toes, alert and ready for anything, heard

+the _crack_ of bat against ball, and instinctively ran toward base.

+Hopkins, head down, started like a flash toward third. Then Jack’s

+eyes found the ball. It was speeding toward him, straight, swift and

+well over his head. He stopped in his tracks a foot or two behind the

+base-line, threw his hands high into the air, put his weight on to his

+toes, and then sprang straight upward until there was a good two feet

+between him and the turf. To the excited watchers it seemed that for

+an instant he hung there suspended, a lithe, slim figure against the

+golden sunset haze. Then the ball stung his hands, the throng broke

+into confused shouting, and--

+

+[Illustration: Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the

+turf.]

+

+“Back! Back!” shrieked the coaches.

+

+The runners turned in their tracks and scuttled for the bases they had

+left like rabbits for their burrows. Jack, the ball securely clutched,

+reached second in two strides, and then, with a lightning survey of

+the situation, threw straight and sure to Billings at third. Condit,

+arrested ten feet from the plate by the coaches’ warnings, had doubled

+back, and now was racing desperately for third base and safety. Six

+feet from the bag he launched himself forward, arms outstretched. A

+trailing cloud of red dust arose into the still air, and the ball

+thumped into the baseman’s hands. The little fat umpire swung his hand

+circling toward the bases.

+

+“Game!” he said.

+

+The long ranks broke like waves, and the players were engulfed, then

+caught and tossed to the surface. Jack, rocking perilously about on the

+shoulders of comrades, looked dazedly yet happily down over a sea of

+waving purple banners and upraised, excited faces, while against his

+ears beat the thunderous refrain of “_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_”

+

+ ----------------------------------+----------------------------------

+    ERSKINE.        R. H. P. A. E. |   ROBINSON.       R. H. P. A. E.

+                                   |

+  Perkins, c.       1  1  8  2  0  | Cox, 1b.          0  3  9  0  0

+  Motter, 1b.       0  1  8  0  1  | Condit, c.        0  1 13  1  1

+  Gilberth, p.      0  0  1  2  1  | Hopkins, 3b.      0  2  0  3  0

+  Bissell, cf.      0  0  2  0  1  | Morgan, ss.       0  0  1  3  0

+  Knox, ss.         0  1  0  0  0  | Devlin, lf.       0  0  1  0  0

+  King, lf., p.     1  2  2  0  1  | Wood, cf.         0  0  0  1  0

+  Lowe, lf.         0  1  0  0  0  | Richman, 2b.      0  1  1  2  1

+  Northup, rf.      0  1  1  0  0  | Regan, rf.        1  0  1  0  0

+  Stiles, 2b.       0  0  2  1  2  | Vose, p.          0  1  1  2  1

+  Weatherby, 2b.    1  1  2  1  0  |                  -- -- -- -- --

+  Billings, 3b.     0  0  1  1  0  |   Totals          1  8 27 12  3

+                   -- -- -- -- --  |

+    Totals          3  8 27  7  6  |

+ ----------------------------------+----------------------------------

+         Erskine               0  0  0  0  0  0  0  3  0  --3

+         Robinson              0  0  0  0  0  1  0  0  0  --1

+

+    Two-Base Hits--Wood, Hopkins. Triple Play--Weatherby to

+    Billings. Bases on Balls--Off Gilberth, 3; Off Vose, 2; Off

+    King, 1. Hit by Pitched Ball--Northup (2), Condit. Struck

+    Out--By Gilberth, 8; By King, 3; By Vose, 13. Sacrifice

+    Hits--Knox, Richman, Regan. Umpire--Cantrell. Time of

+    Game--2.40. Attendance--4,000.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXIV

+

+WEATHERBY’S INNING

+

+

+“Good morning, Mr. Tidball!”

+

+Anthony, making his way briskly down Main Street, raised his head

+at the greeting, and glanced across the street. Professor White,

+immaculate in his Sunday attire of black frock coat, gray trousers,

+and silk hat, was picking his way gingerly between the little puddles

+left by the night’s shower. Anthony returned the salutation, and waited

+for the other to join him. Then they went on together down the quiet

+street in the shade of the elms. The village seemed deserted. It was an

+hour after noon, and staid, respectable Centerport was dining on all

+the indigestible luxuries that comprise the New England Sunday dinner.

+As for the college--well, the college was at the depot awaiting the

+arrival of the 2.12 train.

+

+“Going down to welcome the victors?” asked the professor gaily.

+

+“Yes,” answered Anthony. “And I guess you are too. Sort of late, aren’t

+we?”

+

+He produced his big gold watch, removed it tenderly from its pouch,

+and saw that it announced eight minutes after the hour. The professor

+nodded, and they mended their pace.

+

+“You didn’t go down, did you?” asked the latter.

+

+“No, I wanted to, but couldn’t afford it. But we got the news at

+Butler’s by innings. We had quite a celebration all to ourselves before

+the rest of you got home.”

+

+“Didn’t keep you from taking a hand in the bonfire last night, though,

+did it?” laughed the professor.

+

+“No, I guess every one went out to the field. It must have been an

+interesting game, professor.”

+

+“It was. But it was rather conducive to heart-disease toward the end.

+We came pretty near to being outplayed, and a good deal nearer to

+being beaten. When Robinson had the bases full in the ninth and their

+left-fielder rapped out that liner--well, I shut my eyes and held my

+breath! I didn’t see Weatherby make his catch; when I looked he was

+throwing to third. Well, it was great, simply great!”

+

+“Yes, but I didn’t quite understand what it was Jack did. If he hadn’t

+caught the ball the other chaps would have made three runs, isn’t that

+it?”

+

+“Well, two runs anyway, three probably; you see, the bases were full,

+and that hit was good for a two-bagger, I think, if Weatherby hadn’t

+got his hands on it. It was a hot one, too, and ’way over his head.

+As it was, he put out the batsman by catching the ball, tagged second

+before the runner from that base could get back, and then threw to

+third and put out the man there. You see, a runner is required to hold

+his base until a fly has either been caught or has touched the ground.

+Well, Robinson thought Devlin’s hit was a safe one; it surely looked

+like it; and every one ran. Then when Weatherby caught it they had to

+get back to their bases; but they couldn’t. Condit was almost home. It

+was very pretty. Triple plays like that have been made before, but they

+don’t happen very often. And then the difficulty of Weatherby’s catch

+added to the brilliancy of the thing. Well, he’ll be a hero now as long

+as yesterday’s game is remembered.”

+

+“I’m mighty glad,” said Anthony quietly. “Jack’s had sort of a hard

+time of it, take it all ’round. I’m glad things look better for next

+year.”

+

+“Oh, he can have pretty near anything he wants after this,” laughed

+the professor. “I’m quite as well pleased as you are, Tidball. There’s

+one thing, however--” He hesitated. “We can’t get around the fact that

+Weatherby’s been largely to blame for his own unhappiness, Tidball.

+We’re both friends of his, and we can afford to recognize the truth. It

+was his duty, to himself and more especially to others, to put himself

+right. He should have explained why he apparently made no effort to

+go to the rescue of that boy in the river. It looked bad; I saw the

+whole thing, and to all appearances it was just a case of cowardice.

+I was mistaken; and I said what was in my mind, which was a still

+greater mistake. But don’t you see, Tidball, he should have spoken up

+and said that he couldn’t swim. None would have blamed him then. He

+had no right to allow others to misjudge him. Then, too, his attitude

+wasn’t of the kind to attract friends to him. From what I can make out

+he appears to have taken umbrage because the fellows didn’t seek him

+and make his acquaintance when he first came, and subsequently repelled

+every advance by his apparent indifference and self-sufficiency. It

+was--unfortunate.”

+

+“Yes, I guess you’re right. But I can’t altogether blame Jack, for I

+know just how sensitive he is. Sometime he’ll get over it, but it’s

+something you can’t change at once. Wasn’t that the whistle?”

+

+“I didn’t hear anything, but if you like we’ll sprint a bit.”

+

+And they did, reaching the station just as the train rolled in, and

+the victorious baseball team and attendants descended into the dense

+throng of students to an accompaniment of wild cheers. For a moment

+the players were swallowed from sight. Then they came into view again

+on the shoulders of privileged friends, and were borne to the three

+hacks that were to take them in triumph up to the college. Jack caught

+a brief glimpse of Anthony’s tall form as he was borne, swaying and

+bobbing, across the platform, and waved a hand to him. Then, with the

+cheering crowd jostling and shoving about the carriages, the journey

+was begun.

+

+Jack found himself in the second of the hacks, sandwiched between

+Billings and Knox. Facing them, on the front seat, sat King, Motter,

+and Showell. As they turned into the Square, the horses prancing

+excitedly because of the crowd and the noise, Jack caught a glimpse

+of the carriage ahead and of Joe Perkins leaning out to shake hands

+with the nearest of his admirers. There was no attempt at conversation

+between Jack and his companions. Even had the tumult allowed it they

+were all too sleepy and tired to talk much.

+

+Training had ended for the season with the ending of the game. They had

+remained in Collegetown as Robinson’s guests, and had been dined, and,

+later, had attended a performance at the little Opera House in company

+with their hosts. After that they had returned to the hotel, assembled

+in Joe’s room, and chosen a new captain. The honor had fallen to King.

+There had been no dissenting voice. King, although only a junior next

+year, was already a veteran player, having captained his school team

+before coming to Erskine, and having played two years with the varsity.

+Jack was pleased. He liked King better than any of the fellows who

+would be eligible for the next year’s nine. And King, he believed,

+liked him.

+

+Jack forgot the cheers and the singing and the enthusiastic throngs

+that filled the sidewalks and almost surrounded the carriage, and

+closing his eyes, leaned back and gave himself over to thought. In

+three days the term would come to an end, and he would go home for the

+summer, a summer which promised to be one of the pleasantest of his

+life. Anthony was to visit him in July for a week, and later, if all

+went well, he was to spend a few days in Jonesboro, and finish his

+natational education with surf bathing. Then, in September, Erskine

+once more. But what a difference there would be! He would return to

+college to find fellows not merely willing but eager to claim his

+acquaintance, to call him friend. The stigma of cowardice would no

+longer be placed upon him; rather he would be looked upon as a hero,

+as the one who had saved the college from defeat.

+

+Already he had tasted the intoxicating draft of popularity. Ever since

+the crowd had poured on to the field the day before he had never for an

+instant been allowed to forget that the college looked upon him as one

+whom it was a pleasure to honor. The time when he had read “Coward!” in

+each averted face seemed very dim and far. And yet the vindication of

+which he had dreamed then, a vindication of his physical courage, had

+not come. Well, perhaps next year----

+

+He came to earth with a start. King had leaped to his feet, and was

+staring excitedly down the street. The tumult had changed from joyous

+cheers to cries of alarm. The crowd about the carriage was frantically

+struggling toward the sidewalks and above its voice sounded the

+pounding of hoofs on the hard road. Jack turned and looked. Behind

+them, sweeping down the narrow street between the fleeing throngs,

+swayed the third hack, the horses, frightened beyond control, plunging

+forward with outstretched heads. On the box the driver tugged vainly

+at the lines and shouted warnings to the crowd. A moment or two and a

+collision was inevitable.

+

+Their own driver had heard and seen; the hack sprang forward, and King

+tumbled into Jack’s arms. At the same instant Showell struggled to his

+feet with pale, drawn face, and, with an inarticulate groan of terror,

+threw open the carriage door and leaped blindly into the road. Over and

+over he rolled in the path of the oncoming team. Jack pushed King from

+him, and in a moment was balancing himself on the sill, clinging to

+the woodwork beside him. Some one strove to get by him, and he pushed

+him back.

+

+“Stay where you are,” he shouted.

+

+Then he jumped.

+

+As he did so he saw dimly the crowd crushing back against the shops,

+panic-stricken, struggling for safety. He landed and kept his feet, and

+even before the momentum had passed had swung himself about, and was

+racing back down the street toward the motionless form of Showell and

+the plunging horses. As he ran there was no fear in his heart; rather

+an exultant consciousness of power; here was the opportunity to wipe

+out forever the stigma of cowardice.

+

+“It’s my inning at last!” he thought gladly.

+

+If it has taken long in the telling, yet in the doing it was the matter

+of a moment. He reached the inert body of Showell, and, with desperate

+strength, sent it rolling toward the sidewalk. Then the horses were

+upon him. With a gasp for breath he leaped forward, arms outstretched,

+as it seemed into the path of death.

+

+[Illustration: With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.]

+

+But brief as had been his moment of preparation, he had not misjudged.

+His clutching hands caught at rein and mane, and he was swept off his

+feet and borne onward. Then his left hand found a place beside the

+right, and with all his weight back of the bit and the horse’s hoofs

+grazing his legs at every plunge, he clung there desperately with

+closed eyes. For an instant there was no diminishment of the pace; then

+the horse’s head came down, and Jack’s feet again touched earth. Plunge

+after plunge followed; a confusion of cries and cheers filled his ears;

+the team veered to the left, and his feet felt the sidewalk beneath

+them. There was a crash as the heavy pole splintered against one of

+the granite posts of the college fence, and Jack, striking violently

+against something that drove the last breath from his body, loosed his

+hold and fell backward into darkness.

+

+       *       *       *       *       *

+

+When he opened his eyes again, a minute later, he was lying, weak,

+shaken, and gasping, just inside the fence, his swimming head supported

+on the knee of Professor White. About him excited yet kindly faces

+looked down, while on the sidewalk the trembling horses were being

+unharnessed from the carriage. He strove to sit up, but the professor

+restrained him.

+

+“Hurt, Weatherby?” he asked.

+

+Jack stretched himself carefully, shook his head, and struggled into a

+sitting posture.

+

+“No,” he gasped, “all right; breath--knocked out--that’s all.”

+

+“Well, sit still a minute.” Jack obeyed, and closed his eyes. About

+him were low voices and whispers, and his name being repeated over and

+over. Then he became aware of a sudden commotion, and opened his eyes

+to see Anthony pushing his way through the ring.

+

+“I found him,” he gasped. “He’s coming right over. How is he?” He

+dropped to his knees at Jack’s side, sending an anxious glance at the

+professor.

+

+“Nothing broken; just out of breath.”

+

+Anthony seized Jack’s hand and held it tightly, his broad mouth working

+yet unable to voice his words. Jack grinned up into his face.

+

+“You’re a sight, Anthony,” he said. “You’ve gone and lost your specs.

+Help me up.” The professor nodded. Anthony seized him about the

+shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Jack tried his legs tentatively,

+and found them apparently sound. Then he turned to Anthony.

+

+“Showell?” he asked anxiously.

+

+“He’s all right, Jack; just stunned a bit from the fall.”

+

+“Take him over to his room, Tidball,” said Professor White. “I’ll send

+the doctor when he comes.”

+

+The throng made way for them. As they passed through, Anthony

+supporting Jack as carefully as though the latter were a basket of

+eggs, the crowd found its voice. Jack glanced into some of the faces

+and read therein a new respect and liking. He dropped his eyes, the

+color flooding into his cheeks, and hurried on. The throng grew

+momentarily. In front it broke and parted, and Joe Perkins and Tracy

+Gilberth confronted them.

+

+“All right, Jack?” panted Joe.

+

+“Of course I am,” Jack muttered sheepishly.

+

+“All right, then. Up you go, old man!” Before he could resist he found

+himself on the shoulders of Anthony and Joe, with Tracy supporting him

+behind.

+

+“Let me down, you idiots!” he pleaded.

+

+But they paid no heed. The individual voicing of approval suddenly

+merged into a confused cheering that grew and grew in volume until

+Jack’s remonstrances were drowned beneath it. He clung to Anthony’s

+head, and tried to look as though he didn’t mind, and only succeeded

+in looking like a thief on the way to the stocks. Of late, he silently

+marveled, he seemed to be continually swaying about on fellows’

+shoulders!

+

+Near the museum the chaos of sound took form and substance, and Jack,

+still somewhat confused and dizzy, found that he was bobbing along in

+time to the loud, deep, and measured refrain of “_Weatherby! Weatherby!

+Weatherby!_”

+

+

+THE END

+

+

+

+

+NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG.

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+

+With the Flag in the Channel; or, The Adventures of Capt. Gustavus

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+

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+

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+By FRANKLIN MATTHEWS. Cloth, 75 cents.

+

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+Uncle Sam’s Soldiers.

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+By O. P. AUSTIN. 75 cents.

+

+The purpose of this story, like the preceding, is instruction, though

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+Special Gift Edition. 4 vols., 12mo. Colored Illustrations. Bound in

+Handsome Red Cloth, Boxed, $3.50.

+

+

+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

+

+

+

+

+ Transcriber’s Notes:

+

+ --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).

+

+ --Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to

+   follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the

+   illustration may not match the page number in the List of

+   Illustrations.

+

+ --Printer, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently

+   corrected.

+

+ --Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.

+

+ --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.

+

+ --The Author’s em-dash and long dash styles have been retained.

+

+

+

+

+

+

+End of Project Gutenberg's Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

+

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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

+

+

+Title: Weatherby's Inning

+       A Story of College Life and Baseball

+

+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+Illustrator: C. M. Relyea

+

+Release Date: March 15, 2014 [EBook #45142]

+

+Language: English

+

+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

+

+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEATHERBY'S INNING ***

+

+

+

+

+Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed

+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+

+

+

+BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.

+

+Each, 12mo, Cloth, Illustrated.

+

+

+Weatherby's Inning.

+

+Illustrated in Colors. $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+Behind the Line.

+

+A Story of School and Football. $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+Captain of the Crew.

+

+$1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+For the Honor of the School.

+

+A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport. $1.50.

+

+

+The Half-Back.

+

+A Story of School, Football, and Golf. $1.50.

+

+

+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

+

+

+

+

+[Illustration: Perkins was speeding for second.]

+

+

+

+

+  WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+  A Story of College

+  Life and Baseball

+

+  BY

+  RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

+

+  AUTHOR OF BEHIND THE LINE,

+  THE HALF-BACK, ETC.

+

+

+  _Illustrated by C. M. Relyea_

+

+

+  [Illustration]

+

+

+  New York

+  D. Appleton and Company

+  1903

+

+

+

+

+  COPYRIGHT, 1903

+  BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

+

+

+_Published September, 1903_

+

+

+

+

+  TO

+  ALFRED LOUIS BAURY

+  AGED ELEVEN

+

+  YOUNGEST AND MOST LENIENT

+  OF CRITICS

+

+

+

+

+CONTENTS

+

+

+ CHAPTER                                   PAGE

+     I.--COWARD!                              1

+    II.--AN INTERRUPTION                     11

+   III.--MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF      19

+    IV.--CATCHER AND PITCHER                 30

+     V.--AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD            39

+    VI.--IN DISGRACE                         47

+   VII.--AT THE BATTING NETS                 57

+  VIII.--THE LAST STRAW                      68

+    IX.--ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE        80

+     X.--FLIGHT                              94

+    XI.--ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT          106

+   XII.--A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER              120

+  XIII.--JOE IS PESSIMISTIC                 127

+   XIV.--THE MASS-MEETING                   139

+    XV.--ANTHONY ON BASEBALL                148

+   XVI.--JACK COURTS THE MUSE               156

+  XVII.--ERSKINE _vs._ HARVARD              167

+ XVIII.--JACK AT SECOND                     176

+   XIX.--ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET             184

+    XX.--STOLEN PROPERTY                    194

+   XXI.--OFF TO COLLEGETOWN                 203

+  XXII.--AT THE END OF THE SIXTH            213

+ XXIII.--A TRIPLE PLAY                      223

+  XXIV.--WEATHERBY'S INNING                 239

+

+

+

+

+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

+

+

+                                                               FACING

+                                                                 PAGE

+

+  Perkins was speeding for second.               _Frontispiece_

+  He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.                7

+  Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.                         47

+  "What's wrong, Weatherby?"                                       99

+  Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf.      238

+  With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.                       246

+

+

+

+

+WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER I

+

+COWARD!

+

+

+    UNIVERSITY BASEBALL.--All men who wish to try for the team

+    report in the cage on Monday, February 25th, at 3.30 sharp.

+

+    JOS. L. PERKINS, _Capt._

+

+Jack Weatherby, on his way out of the gymnasium, paused before the

+bulletin-board in the little drafty hall and read the call.

+

+"That's next Monday," he muttered. "All right, I'll be there."

+

+Then, putting a shoulder against the big oak door, he pushed his way

+out on to the granite steps and stood there a moment in scowling

+contemplation of the cheerless scene. Before him the board-walk was

+almost afloat in a shallow rivulet of melted snow that filled the

+gravel-path from side to side. A few steps away the path ended at the

+Washington Street gate in a veritable lake. The crossing was inches

+deep in water and the Common was a dismal waste of pools and streams

+out of which the soldiers' monument reared itself as though agonizedly

+searching for a dry spot to which to move. There was an incessant and

+monotonous dripping and trickling and gurgling as the snow, which

+two days before had covered the ground to a depth of over a foot,

+disappeared as by magic under the breath of an unseasonable south wind.

+The sky was leaden and lowering, and against it the bare branches of

+the numberless elm-trees swayed complainingly. The Common and so much

+of the college grounds as was in sight were deserted. Altogether it was

+a dispiriting prospect that met Jack's eyes, and one little likely to

+aid him in the task of fighting the "blues," which had oppressed him

+all day.

+

+He went listlessly down the steps, heroically striving to whistle a

+tune. But the tune had died out ere the sidewalk was reached. He looked

+with misgiving from the crossing to his shoes--shoes which even when

+new had been scarcely adapted to wet weather--and after a moment of

+hesitation gave up the idea of taking the usual short cut across the

+Common, and went on down Washington Street. As he began to pick his

+way gingerly across the wet pavement at the corner of Elm Street, two

+men ran down the steps of a boarding-house. They were talking in high,

+excited tones, and Jack could hear them until they had gone some

+distance toward the railroad.

+

+"The water's away up to the road, they say," one of them declared

+loudly, "and it's still rising. They're afraid the bridge'll go.

+There's a lot of ice coming down."

+

+"Should think it might go," said the other. "The old thing looks as

+though you could push it over if you tried."

+

+"Yes, don't it? Let's get a move on. We had a flood once up home

+that----"

+

+Then a heavy gust of wind, sweeping around the corner of the

+tumble-down livery-stable, drowned the conversation. Jack paused

+and silently weighed the respective attractions of a dark and not

+overcomfortable room in the green-shuttered house a few steps away,

+and a swollen river which might, if there was any such thing as good

+luck--which he had begun to doubt--sweep away the tottering old wooden

+bridge. Well, his feet were already wet, and so-- He retraced his steps

+to the corner and went on down Washington Street in the wake of the

+others. They were a block or so ahead, splashing their thick boots

+through all kinds of puddles. They were evidently the best of friends,

+for one kept his hand on the other's shoulder. Once the prankish wind

+bore a scrap of merry laughter up the street, and Jack, plodding along

+behind, wary of puddles, as befits a fellow who is wearing his only

+pair of winter shoes, heard it and felt gloomier and more forlorn than

+ever.

+

+He wondered what it was like to have real friends and a chum; to be

+well known and liked. He had come to Erskine College in September fully

+expecting such things to fall to his share. But he had been there five

+months now and during that time his life had been very lonely. At

+first he had tried to make friends in a diffident way. Perhaps he had

+tried with the wrong men; perhaps his manner had been against him; the

+result had been discouraging, and after a while, smarting under what to

+his oversensitive feelings seemed rebuffs, he had ceased looking for

+friends and had retired into a shell of pessimism and injured pride,

+masking his loneliness under simulated indifference. Since then he had

+undoubtedly lost many a chance to find the companionship he craved; but

+he had learned his lesson, he told himself bitterly, and so he rejected

+advances as though they were the deadliest of insults.

+

+He didn't look the least bit like a misanthrope. He was seventeen years

+old, large for his age, lithe, muscular and healthy-looking, as is

+proper in a boy who has never been pampered, with a face which even at

+the present moment, in spite of the expression of settled bitterness

+that marred it, was eminently attractive. His eyes were well apart and

+gray in color; his hair was light brown, and his mouth, which of late

+had formed the unfortunate habit of wearing a little supercilious sneer

+in public, looked generous and honest, and, with the firmly rounded

+chin beneath, suggested force and capability. On the whole he was a

+clean-cut, manly-looking boy to whom fortune, you would have said, owed

+much.

+

+When Jack Weatherby reached the river he found that the report of

+its depredations was not exaggerated. To be sure, River Street was

+still above water, but the flood was well over the bank in places,

+and farther along, in front of the coal-yards, several of the wharves

+were awash. The broad stream, usually a quiet, even sluggish body, was

+sending up a new sound, a low, threatening roar which, without his

+having realized it, had reached Jack's ears long before he had sighted

+the river.

+

+He wormed his way through the crowd of townfolk that lined the

+street, and, passing through an empty coal-pocket, found himself on a

+spray-drenched string-piece a foot above the water. To his right and

+left piers ran some distance into the river. They were untenanted. But

+beyond them the open spaces used by the coal company as storage ground

+for wagons were black with watchers. A short way off was the bridge,

+a low, wooden structure connecting Centerport with the little village

+of Kirkplain across the river. Jack was on the up-stream side of the

+bridge and could see the havoc that the drifting ice was making with

+the worn spiling and hear the crashing and grinding as cake after cake

+was hurled and jammed against it. Several of the supports were already

+broken, and the entrance to the bridge was barred with a rope and

+guarded by a member of Centerport's small police force.

+

+Jack drew back as far as he could from the edge of the beam and with

+his shoulders against the boards of the big bin watched in strange

+fascination the black, angry water rushing past. It frightened and

+repelled him, and yet he found it difficult to remove his gaze. For as

+long as he could remember he had been afraid of water. Once, when he

+was only five years old, he had fallen into the brook that crossed his

+father's farm and had almost drowned before his mother, hastening after

+the runaway, had dragged him out. His recollection of the escapade was

+very hazy, but it had left him with a dread of water that was almost a

+mania. All efforts to combat it had proved futile. He had never learned

+to swim, and had never in all his life trusted himself in a boat. And

+yet, as a boy, he had devoured ravenously all the stories of the sea he

+could lay hands on, and had shuddered over shipwrecks and similar

+disasters, at once repelled and fascinated.

+

+Suddenly his contemplation of the river was disturbed by shouts of

+alarm from up-stream. With an effort he withdrew his gaze from the

+water and looked in the direction of the cries. At that instant, around

+the corner of the pier to his right, floated something that thrashed

+the water wildly and sent up shrill appeals for help. After the first

+second of bewilderment Jack saw that it was a boy of thirteen or

+fourteen years. The white face, horribly drawn with terror, turned

+toward him, and, for an instant, the frightened, staring eyes looked

+into his. Jack sickened and groped blindly for support. A trick of the

+current shot the struggling body into the little harbor afforded by the

+two piers, almost at his feet. In his ears was a meaningless babel of

+shouts and in his heart an awful fear. He leaned back with outstretched

+hands clinging to the planks behind him and closed his eyes to avoid

+the sight of the appealing face below. Then, with a gasp, he sank to

+his knees, seized the string-piece with one hand, and with the other

+reached downward. But he was too late. The current, sweeping out again,

+had already borne the boy beyond reach. There was a final despairing

+shriek, then the arms ceased to struggle and the eddies closed over

+the body. Jack joined his voice impotently with the others and looked

+wildly about for a plank or a rope--anything that he could throw into

+the water. But there was nothing. Sick and dizzy he subsided against

+the timbers.

+

+[Illustration: He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.]

+

+Then, just at the corner of the down-stream wharf, the body came to the

+surface again, the eyes sightless, the lips silent. And, almost too

+late, came help.

+

+Jack, leaning near the opening in the coal-bin, felt rather than saw

+some one push by him. The rescuer, a man several years Jack's senior,

+had discarded his coat and vest, and now, stooping and placing a hand

+lightly on the string-piece, he dropped into the water. A half dozen

+strokes took him to the end of the pier, and just as the drowning boy

+was again sinking he caught him. Turning, he struck out toward Jack,

+swimming desperately against the swirling current. For a minute it

+was difficult work; then he reached stiller water, and Jack, leaning

+over the edge, stretched forth eager hands to help. But ere he could

+do so he was pushed aside, narrowly saving himself from pitching head

+foremost into the water, and a middle-aged man, whom Jack a moment

+later saw to be Professor White, relieved the rescuer of his burden.

+

+By that time the narrow foothold along the edge of the river was

+thronged with students and townfolk. Quickly the apparently lifeless

+body was borne past them through the yard and into a small office.

+Jack, trembling in every limb, followed. But near the door he suddenly

+became aware of a hostile atmosphere. The crowd, which had grown every

+minute, were observing him curiously, contemptuously, muttering and

+whispering. The blood rushed into his face and then receded, leaving it

+deathly pale. For a moment he faced them. Then a small boy somewhere on

+the edge of the throng sent up a shrill cry:

+

+"That's him! That's the feller that didn't make no try ter save him!

+'Fraid of wettin' his feet, he was!"

+

+Jack looked about him and read in the faces that confronted him only

+merciless condemnation. Something in his throat hurt him and refused

+to be dislodged. With head up he turned and made his way through the

+crowd, the old sneer on his lips. But there was worse in store. He felt

+a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Professor White beside him.

+

+"What's your name?" asked the professor sternly.

+

+"Weatherby, sir," muttered Jack.

+

+"Are you a student?"

+

+"Yes, sir."

+

+"What class?"

+

+"Six."

+

+The professor looked at him searchingly, then dropped the hand from his

+shoulder.

+

+"I find that hard to believe," he said contemptuously. "I didn't think

+we had any cowards here at Erskine!"

+

+He turned away, and Jack, after a moment of hesitation, a moment in

+which his first inclination to protest against the injustice of the

+verdict was drowned in a sudden dumbing surge of anger, made his way

+out of the throng and stumbled back to his room through the gathering

+twilight.

+

+[Illustration: PLAN OF ERSKINE COLLEGE AND THE TOWN OF CENTERPORT 1901]

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER II

+

+AN INTERRUPTION

+

+

+Erskine College, at Centerport, is not large. Like many another New

+England college its importance lies rather in its works than in wealth

+or magnificence. Its enrolment in all departments at the time of which

+I write was about 600. I am not going to describe the college, it would

+take too long; and besides, it has been done very frequently and very

+well, and if the reader, after studying the accompanying plan, which

+is reproduced with the kind permission of the authorities, feels the

+need of further description, I would respectfully refer him to Balcom's

+Handbook of Erskine (photographically illustrated) and May's History of

+Erskine College. And if in connection with these he examines the annual

+catalogue he will know about all there is to be known of the subject.

+

+Leaving Washington Street and going west on Elm Street, he will find,

+facing the apex of the Common, a small white frame cottage profusely

+adorned with blinds of a most vivid green. That is Mrs. Dorlon's. It

+is by far the tiniest of the many boarding- and lodging-houses that

+line the outer curve of Elm Street, and, as might be supposed, its

+rooms are few and not commodious. Mrs. Dorlon, a small, middle-aged

+widow, with a perpetual cold in the head, reserves the lower floor for

+her own use and rents the two up-stairs rooms to students. Between

+these second-floor apartments there is little to choose. The western

+one gets the afternoon sunlight, while the one on the other side of

+the hall gets none. To make up for this, however, the eastern room is,

+or was, at the time of my story, the proud possessor of a register,

+supposed, somewhat erroneously, to conduct warm air into the apartment;

+while the western room, to use the language of Mrs. Dorlon, was "het by

+gas."

+

+Aside from these differences, apparent rather than real, the two

+chambers were similar. In each there was a strip of narrow territory

+in which it was possible to stand upright, flanked on either side

+by abruptly sloping ceilings whose flaking expanses were broken by

+dormer-windows, admitting a little light and a deal of cold. It was the

+eastern room that Jack Weatherby at present called home, a feat which

+implied the possession of a great deal of imagination on his part. For

+when, having escaped the hostile throng by the river and made his way

+up Washington into Elm Street, and so to the house with the painfully

+green blinds, the room in which he found himself didn't look the least

+bit in the world like home.

+

+The iron cot-bed, despite its vivid imitation Bagdad covering, failed

+to deceive the beholder into mistaking it for a Turkish divan. The

+faded and threadbare ingrain carpet, much too small to cover the

+floor, was of a chilly, inhospitable shade of blue. The occupant

+had made little attempt at decoration, partly because the amount of

+wall space adapted to pictures was extremely limited, partly because

+from the first the cheerless ugliness of the room discouraged him.

+The green-topped study table near the end window was a sorry piece

+of furniture. Former users had carved cabalistic designs into the

+walnut rim and adorned the imitation leather covering with even

+more mysterious figures; there were evidences, too, of overturned

+ink-bottles. A yellow-grained wardrobe beside the door leaned wearily

+against the supporting angle of the ceiling.

+

+The brightest note in the room was a patent rocker upholstered in vivid

+green and yellow Brussels carpet. If we except a walnut book-shelf

+hanging beside the end window and a wash-stand jammed under one dormer,

+the enumeration of the furnishings is complete. Even on days when the

+sun shone against the white gable of the next house, the apartment

+could scarcely be called cheerful, and this afternoon with the evening

+shadows closing down and the wind whipping the branches of the elms

+outside and buffeting the house until it creaked complainingly, the

+room was forlorn to a degree.

+

+After slamming the door behind him Jack tossed aside his cap, and

+subsiding into the rocker stretched his legs and stared miserably

+through the window into a swaying world of gray branches and darkening

+sky. The overmastering anger that had sent him striding home as

+though pursued dwindled away and left in its place a loneliness and

+discouragement that hurt like a physical pain. Things had been bad

+before, he thought, but now, branded in public a coward and despised

+by his fellows, life would be unbearable! He pictured the glances

+of contempt that would meet him on the morrow in hall and yard, or

+wherever he went, and groaned. He recalled the professor's biting

+words: "I didn't think we had any cowards here at Erskine!" and

+clenched his hands in sudden overmastering rage. The injustice of it

+maddened him. Would Professor White, he asked himself, have gone into

+the river after the drowning boy if, like himself, he were unable to

+swim a stroke and sickened at the mere thought of contact with the icy

+flood?

+

+Presently his thoughts reverted to the morrow and the punishment

+he must undergo. His courage faltered, and the alternative, that of

+packing his few things there and then and leaving college by an early

+train in the morning, seemed the only course possible. Well, he would

+do it. It would mean disappointment to his parents and a loss of money

+they could ill afford. To him it would mean five months of study

+wasted. But better that than staying on there despised and ridiculed,

+to be pointed out behind his back as The Coward.

+

+With a gasp he leaped to his feet, his cheeks tingling and his eyes

+moist with sudden tears. The room was in darkness. He fumbled over

+the desk until he found the match-box. When the gas was lighted he

+remembered the condition of his feet, and drawing a chair before the

+register he removed his wet shoes and placed them against the warm

+grating that they might dry overnight. His battered silver watch showed

+the time to be a few minutes before six. He found dry socks, and

+drawing them over his chilled feet donned a pair of carpet slippers.

+Then he washed for supper, bathing his flushed face over and over,

+and got back into his coat just as a weak-voiced bell below summoned

+the small household to the evening meal. As he went out he noted with

+surprise that the door of the opposite room was ajar, allowing a streak

+of light to illumine the upper hall with unaccustomed radiance. The

+room had been vacant all the year, but now, evidently, Mrs. Dorlon had

+found a tenant. But the fact interested him little, for his mind was

+firmly made up, and on the morrow his own room would be for rent.

+

+When he entered the tiny dining-room Mrs. Dorlon and her daughter, a

+shy wisp of a girl some twelve or thirteen years of age, were already

+seated at the table. Jack muttered greetings and applied himself

+silently to the cold meat and graham bread which, with crab-apple jelly

+and weak tea, comprised the meal. But his hostess was plainly elated,

+and after a few pregnant snuffles the secret was out. The western

+chamber was rented!

+

+"And such a nice, pleasant-mannered young man he is," she declared. "A

+Mr. Tidball, a junior. Perhaps you have met him?"

+

+Jack shook his head.

+

+"Well, I'm sure you'll like him, and it'll be real pleasant for you to

+have another student in the house. I know what it is to be alone"--she

+sniffed sadly--"since Mr. Dorlon died, and I guess you feel downright

+lonely sometimes up there. If you like I'll introduce Mr. Tidball after

+supper?"

+

+The widow appeared to find a mild excitement at the thought, and her

+face fell when Jack begged off. "Not this evening, please," he said.

+"I'm going to be very busy, Mrs. Dorlon."

+

+"Oh, very well. I only thought--" What she thought he never knew, for

+excusing himself he pushed back his chair and returned to his room. As

+he closed his door he heard the new lodger whistling cheerfully and

+tunelessly across the hallway.

+

+He dragged a steamer trunk from under the bed, threw back the lid and

+unceremoniously hustled the contents on to the floor. Then he took

+a valise from the wardrobe and proceeded to pack into it what few

+belongings would serve him until he could send for his trunk. The

+latter he couldn't take with him. In the first place, there was no way

+of getting it to the depot in time for the early train; in the second

+place, as he was not now able to pay Mrs. Dorlon the present month's

+rent, he felt that he ought to leave something behind him as security.

+The prospect of going home raised his spirits, and he felt happier

+than he had for many months. He even hummed an air as he tramped

+busily between the wardrobe and the trunk, and the result was that

+the first knock on the door passed unheeded. After a moment the knock

+was repeated, and this time Jack heard it and paused in the act of

+spreading his Sunday trousers in the till and looked the consternation

+he felt. Who was it, he wondered. Perhaps Mrs. Dorlon come to hint

+about the rent; perhaps--but whoever it might be, Jack didn't want

+his preparations seen. He softly closed the trunk lid and wished that

+he had locked the door. He waited silently. Perhaps the caller would

+go away. Then, as he began to think with relief that this had already

+happened, the knob turned, the door swung open, and a lean, spectacled

+face peered through the opening.

+

+"I thought maybe you didn't hear me knock," said a queer, drawling

+voice. "I've taken the room across the way, and as we're going to be

+neighbors I thought I'd just step over and get acquainted."

+

+The caller came in and closed the door behind him, casting an

+interested look about the shabby apartment. Jack, after an instant of

+surprise and dismay, muttered a few words of embarrassed greeting. As

+he did so he recognized in the odd, lanky figure at the door the hero

+of the accident at the river.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER III

+

+MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF

+

+

+The caller looked to be about twenty-one or two years of age. He was

+tall, thin, and angular, and carried himself awkwardly. His shoulders

+had the stoop that tells of much poring over books. His hands and

+feet were large, the former knotted and ungainly. His face was lean,

+the cheeks somewhat sunken; the nose was large and well-shapen and

+the mouth, altogether too broad, looked good-natured and humorous. He

+wore steel-rimmed spectacles, behind which twinkled a pair of small,

+pale-blue eyes, kindly and shrewd. His clothes seemed at first sight to

+belong to some one very much larger; the trousers hung in baggy folds

+about his legs and his coat went down behind his neck exposing at least

+an inch of checkered gingham shirt.

+

+And yet, despite the incongruity of his appearance, he impressed Jack

+as being a person of importance, a man who knew things and who was

+capable of turning his knowledge to good account. Tidball? Where

+had he heard the name of Tidball? As he thought of it now, the name

+seemed strangely familiar. Recollecting his duties as host, Jack pushed

+forward the patent rocker.

+

+"Won't you sit down?" he asked.

+

+The visitor sank into the chair, bringing one big foot, loosely encased

+in a frayed leather slipper, on to one knee, and clasping it with both

+knotted hands quite as though he feared it might walk off when he

+wasn't looking.

+

+"Queer sort of weather we're having," he drawled. He talked through

+his nose with a twang that proclaimed him a native of the coast. Jack

+concurred, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the cot and wondering

+whether Tidball recognized him.

+

+"Mrs. Thingamabob down-stairs said you were from Maine. Maine's my

+State. I come from Jonesboro; ever hear of Jonesboro?"

+

+"No, I don't believe so." The visitor chuckled.

+

+"Never met any one who had. Guess I'm about the only resident of that

+metropolis who ever strayed out of it. There's one fellow in our town,

+though, who went down to Portland once about forty years back. He's

+looked on as quite a traveler in Jonesboro."

+

+Jack smiled. "My folks live near Auburn," he said.

+

+"Nice place, Auburn. By the way, my name's Tidball--Anthony Z. Z stands

+for Zeno; guess I'm a sort of a Stoic myself." The remark was lost on

+Jack, whose acquaintance with the Greek philosophers was still limited.

+

+"My name's Weatherby," he returned. "My first name's Jack; I haven't

+any middle name."

+

+"You're lucky," answered the other. "They might have called you

+Xenophanes, you see." Jack didn't see, but he smiled doubtfully, and

+the visitor went on. "Well, now we know each other. We're the only

+fellows in the hut and we might as well get together, eh? Guess I saw

+you this afternoon down at the river, didn't I?"

+

+Jack flushed and nodded.

+

+"Thought so." There was a moment's silence, during which the visitor's

+shrewd eyes studied Jack openly and calmly and during which all the old

+misery, forgotten for the moment, came back to the boy. Then--

+

+"Guess you can't swim, eh?" asked the other.

+

+"No, not a stroke," muttered Jack.

+

+"Thought so," reiterated Tidball. There was another silence. Then Jack

+said, with an uneasy laugh:

+

+"There's no doubt but that you can, though."

+

+"Me? Yes, I can swim like a shark. Down in Jonesboro we learn when

+we're a year old. Comes natural to us coasters."

+

+"It was lucky you were there this afternoon," said Jack.

+

+"Oh, some one else would have gone in, I guess!"

+

+"He--he didn't--he wasn't drowned, was he?"

+

+"The kid? No, but plaguy near it. He's all right now, I guess. Teach

+him a lesson."

+

+"Did the bridge go?" asked Jack after a moment, merely to break another

+silence.

+

+"No, water was going down when I left. Guess I'm in the way, though,

+ain't I?"

+

+"In the way?"

+

+"Yes; weren't you doing something when I came in? Packing a trunk or

+something?"

+

+"Oh, it--it doesn't matter; there's no hurry."

+

+"Going home over Sunday?"

+

+"Y--yes."

+

+"You're lucky; wish I was. But don't let me interrupt; go ahead and

+I'll just sit here out of the way, if you don't mind my staying."

+

+"Not at all; I--I'm glad to have you." And the odd thing about it, as

+Jack realized the next moment, was that he meant what he said. The

+visitor drew a little brier pipe from one pocket and a pouch from

+another.

+

+"Smoke?" he asked.

+

+"No," answered Jack.

+

+"Mind if I do?"

+

+"Not a bit." Tidball stuffed the bowl with tobacco and was soon sending

+long clouds of rankly smelling smoke into the air.

+

+"Don't begin," he advised. "It's a mean habit; wastes time and money

+and doesn't do you any good after all. Wish I didn't."

+

+"But couldn't you break yourself of it?" asked Jack.

+

+Tidball chuckled again and blew a great mouthful of gray smoke toward

+the gaslight.

+

+"Don't want to," he answered.

+

+"Oh!" said Jack, puzzled.

+

+"Going to take your trunk?" asked the other, waving his pipe toward it.

+

+"No, just a bag. I'll send for the trunk later." Then, as he realized

+his mistake, the blood rushed into his cheeks. He looked up at Tidball

+and found that person eying him quizzically. "I--I mean--that----"

+

+"No harm done," interrupted the visitor. "Thought when I came in you

+meant to cut and run. Why?"

+

+"Because--because I can't stay," answered Jack defiantly. "You--you

+were there and you saw it. Everybody thinks I'm a coward! Professor

+White said--said--" He choked and looked down miserably at his twisting

+fingers.

+

+"Well, you aren't, are you?"

+

+Jack glanced up startledly.

+

+"Why--why--no, I'm not a coward!" he cried.

+

+"Didn't think you were. You don't look it."

+

+Jack experienced a grateful warmth at the heart and looked shyly and

+thankfully at the queer, lean face across the room.

+

+"But--but they all think I am," he muttered.

+

+"I wouldn't prove them right, then, if I were you."

+

+"Prove-- What do you mean?"

+

+"Mean I wouldn't run away; mean I'd stay and fight it out. Any one can

+run; takes a brave man to stand and fight."

+

+"Oh!" Jack stared wonderingly at Tidball. "I hadn't thought of that."

+

+"'Tisn't too late."

+

+"N--no," answered Jack doubtfully. "You--think I ought to stay?"

+

+"Yes, I honestly do, Weatherby. You've got nothing to be ashamed of;

+'twouldn't have done any good if you'd gone into the river; guess you'd

+been drowned--'tother chap, too. White jumped at conclusions and

+landed wrong. Can't much blame him, though. You see, the fellows here

+at Erskine come from the country, or the coast, or some small town,

+and swimming's as natural as eating, and I guess it didn't occur to

+them that maybe you couldn't swim. But when they learn the truth of the

+matter----"

+

+"But they won't know," said Jack.

+

+"Bound to. I'll see White myself, and I'll tell all the chaps I know;

+'twon't take long for the facts to get around."

+

+"I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind," said Jack. "It's awfully

+kind of you----"

+

+"Didn't what?"

+

+"See Professor White."

+

+"Well--of course, I know you're feeling kind of sore at him, Weatherby,

+and I don't much blame you; still, there's no use in allowing the

+misunderstanding to continue when a word or two will set things right."

+

+"I don't care what he thinks," said Jack, bitterly.

+

+"All right," replied Tidball calmly. "How about the others?"

+

+Jack studied his hands in silence for a minute. Then he threw back his

+shoulders and got up.

+

+"You're mighty kind," he said, "to want to take all this trouble on

+my account, and I'm awfully much obliged to you, but--if you don't

+mind--I'd rather you didn't say anything to anybody."

+

+Tidball frowned.

+

+"Then you mean to run away?" he asked disappointedly.

+

+"No, I'll stay and--and fight! Let them think me a coward if they like;

+only some day I'll show them I'm not!"

+

+"That's the stuff," said the other approvingly. "I guess you're making

+a mistake by not explaining, but--maybe you'll change your mind. If you

+do, let me know."

+

+"Thanks," answered Jack, "but I sha'n't." He took up his valise and

+holding it upside down emptied the contents on to the cot. "I wish

+you'd tell me one thing," he said.

+

+"All right."

+

+"Did you--I mean-- Well, did you just happen to come in, or--did you

+know I was--The Coward?"

+

+"Well," drawled the other, smiling gently at a cloud of smoke, "Mrs.

+Thingamabob told me yesterday when I engaged that room that she had a

+very nice young man, a freshman named Weatherby, living with her. The

+name isn't common, I guess, and so when I heard it again down at the

+wharf I remembered. And I just thought I'd come in and see what silly

+thing you'd decided to do. Kind of cheeky, I guess, but that's my way.

+Hope you're not offended?"

+

+"No, I'm awfully glad. If you hadn't come I'd have gone away, sure as

+anything."

+

+"Glad I came. Hope we'll be friends. You must come over and see me.

+You won't find things very palatial in my place, but there's an extra

+chair, I think. I don't go in much for luxuries. I was rooming in a

+place on Main Street until to-day; very comfortable place it was, too:

+folding-bed, lounge, rocking-chair, and a study desk with real drawers

+that locked--at least, some of them did. My roommate was a fellow named

+Gooch, from up my way. His father died a week or so ago, and yesterday

+I got a letter from him saying he'd have to leave college and buckle

+down to work. Couldn't afford to keep the room alone, so I looked round

+and found this. Well, I must be going."

+

+He pulled his long length out of the chair, and, producing from a

+chamois pouch a handsome big gold watch, oddly at variance with his

+shabby attire, held it nearsightedly to the dim light.

+

+"Don't be in a hurry," begged Jack. And then, "That's a dandy watch you

+have," he added. "May I see it?"

+

+"Yes," answered Tidball, holding it forth at the length of its chain,

+"it's the only swell thing I own. It's a present."

+

+"Oh!" said Jack. "Well, it's a beauty. And it's got a split-second

+attachment, too, hasn't it?"

+

+"Yes, and when you press this thing here it strikes the time; hear it?

+Guess it cost a heap of money."

+

+"It must have. Was it a prize?"

+

+"Something like that. A New York fellow gave it to me summer before

+last. He came up to Jonesboro in a steam-yacht about a thousand feet

+long. Well, I've got a lot of studying to do yet." He moved toward the

+door.

+

+"But why did he give it to you?" asked Jack. "But maybe I'm asking

+impertinent questions?"

+

+"Oh, no; there's no secret about it, only-- Well, you see, this

+steam-yacht man had his son with him, a kid of about eleven or twelve,

+I guess, and one day the kid fell out of the naphtha-launch. There was

+a good sea running, and they couldn't get the launch about very well. I

+happened to be near there in a dory, and so I picked the youngster up.

+His daddy seemed a good deal tickled about it, and after he got home he

+sent this to me. That's all. Some people seem to have money to burn.

+Well, good night. Glad to have met you. Come over and call as soon as

+you can."

+

+And Anthony Z. Tidball nodded, blew a parting cloud of smoke in Jack's

+direction, and went out, closing the door softly behind him.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER IV

+

+CATCHER AND PITCHER

+

+

+"Well, it wasn't such a bad showing, was it?"

+

+Joe Perkins tossed his purple cap adorned with a white E on to the

+table and threw himself among the cushions of the window-seat in the

+manner of one who has earned his rest. He was a jovial-looking fellow

+of medium height, rather inclined toward stoutness. His hair was

+undeniably red, and despite that his features were good, none would

+have called him handsome. But his blue eyes were alert and his mouth

+firm. He had the quick temper popularly believed to accompany red hair,

+but it was well under control, and Joe's usual appearance was one of

+extreme good nature. He was popular, perhaps the most popular fellow

+in college, and he knew it, and was not spoiled by the knowledge. His

+friends believed in him and he believed in himself. Perhaps it was

+the latter fact that made him such a wonderful leader. Ever since his

+freshman year he had been among the foremost in all college affairs.

+Last spring, after the disastrous 7--0 baseball game with Robinson,

+the selection of Joe, whose catching had been a feature of the contest,

+as captain, was unanimous and enthusiastic, and the supporters of the

+Purple, mourning overwhelming defeat, felt their sorrow lightened by

+the knowledge that Joe Perkins, in accepting the office, had pledged

+himself to retrieve Erskine's lost prestige on the diamond. The whole

+college firmly believed that what Joe Perkins promised he would perform.

+

+Joe's companion was Tracy Gilberth. Like Joe, he was a senior

+and a member of the nine. Unlike Joe, he did not impress one as

+being particularly good-natured; nor did he resemble that youth in

+appearance. He had straight dark hair and black eyes. His cheeks were

+ruddy and his mouth straight and thin. He was of middle height and

+weight, and pitched the best ball of any man in college. In age he

+was a year Joe's senior, being twenty-three. He had none of the other

+man's popularity, although he was not disliked. Acquaintances suspected

+him of arrogance; in talking he had a tone that sounded patronizing

+to those not used to it. His parents were immensely wealthy; rumor

+credited his father with being a millionaire several times over. At all

+events, Tracy had the most luxuriously furnished rooms at Erskine, and

+spent more money than the rest of his class put together.

+

+At the present moment he was sitting in Joe's Morris chair with his

+hands in his pockets and his golf-stockinged legs sprawled before him.

+He replied to Joe's question with a negligent nod that might have

+meant either assent or denial. Joe took it to express the former, and

+continued:

+

+"A heap better than last year, anyhow. Thirty candidates at this time

+of year means sixty when we get outdoors."

+

+"Yes, but it isn't quantity that counts, Joe," said Tracy. "Look at the

+sort of greenies you had to-day. I'll bet there isn't a decent player

+among them, outside of the few last-year men that were there. If I were

+captain I'd rather have fifteen good players than fifty would-bes."

+

+"You're an awful croaker, Tracy. For goodness' sake, let me be

+happy while I can. To-morrow I shall be quite ready to believe that

+to-day's bunch is merely a lot of hopeless idiots; but this evening I

+am an optimist; I see phenomenal pitchers, star catchers, wonderful

+first-basemen, in short, an aggregation of brilliant players destined

+to wipe Robinson off the face of the earth. Leave me to my dreams, old

+man."

+

+"All right; only when you wake up you'll find you've fallen out of

+bed," answered Tracy. "Have you heard from Hanson?"

+

+"Yes, he's coming up Wednesday to look around."

+

+"I hope he'll like what he sees," said Tracy, grimly. "I suppose

+you saw that fellow Weatherby there to-day? That chap must have the

+sensibilities of a goat. Think of his having the cheek to show up in

+the cage as a baseball candidate after what happened Friday! Why, if I

+were he I wouldn't have the courage to show my face outside of my room.

+Not a fellow spoke to him to-day, but he didn't seem to mind a bit."

+

+"I spoke to him," said Joe.

+

+"Oh, you had to!"

+

+"And I think you're mistaken about his not caring. He kept a pretty

+stiff upper lip, but I have a hunch that he wasn't happy."

+

+"Happy! I should say not. If he expects to be happy as long as he stays

+at Erskine he's going to be awfully fooled. The chap ought to be driven

+out of college."

+

+"It's an unfortunate affair," answered Joe dispassionately, "and I

+don't pretend to understand it. But I must confess that I'm a bit sorry

+for the chap. It may just be that there was some reason for his not

+going in after that boy. Maybe he got rattled; you can't tell."

+

+"Oh, poppycock! Maybe he was blind or asleep! Why didn't he spunk up,

+then, and say something? He just walked off with his head in the air,

+as proud as you please, without a word. The plain fact of the matter is

+that he's a coward clean through."

+

+"Well--but if he is, why did he report to-day? Seems to me that took

+something a good deal like courage. He knows plaguy well what the

+college thinks of him. Great Scott, if I had been in his boots I'd no

+more have thought of coming there among all those fellows----!"

+

+"That's what I say. He's got just about the same sensibilities as a

+billy-goat. I dare say he's rather proud of himself. But don't you

+worry, Joe, you won't be troubled with him long; we'll soon show him

+that the baseball team doesn't want cowards. You leave him to us, old

+man."

+

+"No, you don't, Tracy; you leave him to me. I'm bossing this outfit,

+and I'm quite capable of getting rid of any one I don't want. The

+fellow says he can play ball, and it's fellows who can play ball that

+I'm after, and not life-saving heroes."

+

+Tracy stared across at his friend in disgust.

+

+"Well, I can tell you one thing, Joe, and that is that you'll find that

+there will be lots of fellows who simply won't go on to the team if you

+keep Weatherby; and one of 'em's me!"

+

+"Nonsense," answered the other, quite undisturbed. "Your precious

+morals aren't going to be hurt by playing on the same acre of green

+grass as Weatherby. Nor by sitting at the same table with him, for that

+matter. At any rate, don't get excited yet; it's a fair guess that

+Weatherby doesn't know enough about the game to make the team. But

+as long as he's trying for it I won't have him bullied." Joe sat up

+suddenly and punched a purple and white cushion viciously. "I tell you

+candidly, old man, I'm going to turn out a winning team this spring,

+and just as long as a fellow plays good ball and does as he's told, I

+don't give a continental if he's ostracized by the whole State! I gave

+my solemn word to Tom Higgins last year, after the game, that I'd win

+from Robinson, and I'm going to keep that promise!"

+

+"I'll never forget old Tom that day. The poor duffer was crying like a

+baby all the way back to the yard. 'You'll be captain, Joe,' he said,

+'and you've got to promise to wipe this out. You've got to give me

+your word of honor, Joe.' 'I'll do everything that I can, Tom,' said

+I. And we shook hands on it. 'If you don't beat them next year, Joe,'

+he blubbered, 'I'll come back here and I'll lick you until you can't

+stand. I swear I will!' And he would, too," laughed Joe.

+

+"That's all well enough," answered Tracy, "but you don't want to go too

+far, Joe; the fellows won't stand everything even from you."

+

+"What do you mean?"

+

+"Well, there's lots of 'em now who think you've made a mistake in

+choosing Hanson for coach; you know that. They say that Hanson lost

+everything when he was captain three years ago, and that year before

+last, when he coached, we lost again. They think you should have got a

+coach who had something to show. And now if you insist on putting it on

+to the fellows with this coward, Weatherby, you'll have to look out for

+squalls."

+

+"Good stuff!" Joe's blue eyes sparkled, and his mouth set itself

+straightly. "I'm open to all the squalls that come my way. I like

+squalls. And when they've blown over the other chaps may be surprised

+to find that they're a considerable distance from the scene of

+operations. Oh, no, my boy, you can't scare me by talking that way! I

+know what the fellows said--some of them, that is--about my selecting

+Hanson, and I don't give a continental. Hanson is all right. When

+he was captain here he had the poorest lot of players that any man

+ever had to contend with; anybody who was in college will tell you

+that. They couldn't field and they couldn't bat; the only thing they

+could do was kick; they kicked about the schedule, and they kicked

+about the amount of work they had to do, and they kicked about the

+training-table. Nobody on earth could have won with that team. As for

+year before last, Hanson coached and we didn't win, I know. We didn't

+win last year, for that matter, but nobody lays the blame on the coach.

+Hanson is all right. He knows the game all through; he's a gentleman,

+and he gives every minute of his time to the team. The best judge of

+whether what I say is true is 'Baldy' Simson. You go and ask 'Baldy,'

+and if he doesn't tell you the same thing I'll eat my hat. And when you

+hear a trainer say that a coach is all right, there's something in it."

+

+"Oh, well, I don't know much about it myself! I'm only saying what the

+fellows in general think, Joe."

+

+"I know; there's no harm done. Only, if there are any squalls, Tracy,

+you take your friends and get into a cellar somewhere until they've

+blown over," said Joe suggestively.

+

+"Oh, I'm not scared!" Tracy replied, laughing uneasily. "I'll stand by

+you."

+

+"All right," answered Joe gravely. "That'll be safest."

+

+There came a knock at the door, and Joe shouted, "Come in!" When

+he saw who his caller was he arose from the window-seat and stepped

+forward.

+

+"How are you, Weatherby? Want to see me?"

+

+"Yes, if you have a minute to spare." Jack looked calmly at the

+occupant of the Morris chair, and Joe understood.

+

+"Certainly," he answered. "Sit down." Then, "I don't like to put you

+out, old man," he said, turning to Tracy, who had so far made no move

+toward withdrawing, "but I guess I'll have to ask you to excuse me a

+moment."

+

+"That's all right," replied Tracy, lazily pulling himself out of his

+seat and staring insolently at the newcomer. "I'm a bit particular,

+anyway." He lounged to the door, carefully avoiding contact with Jack.

+"See you in the morning," he added. "So long."

+

+When the door had closed, Joe glanced at the caller, instinctively

+framing an apology for the insult. But Jack's countenance gave no

+indication that he had even heard it. Joe marveled and pointed to a

+chair.

+

+"Sit down, won't you?" he asked politely.

+

+The other shook his head.

+

+"No, thanks. What I've got to say will take but a minute," he answered

+calmly.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER V

+

+AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD

+

+

+"Oh," said Joe, vaguely, "all right." He wondered, rather uncomfortably,

+what was coming.

+

+"It's just this," Jack continued. "I tried to get a word with you in

+the cage, but there was always some one around. I wanted to know if--if

+after what happened the other day at the river, you have any objection

+to my trying for the nine. You see," he went on, hurriedly, "I know

+what the fellows call me, and I thought maybe you'd rather I didn't

+come out. You just tell me, you know, and it'll be all right. I won't

+show up again."

+

+"I see," said Joe. "No, I haven't the least objection; in fact, I'm

+glad to have you. I don't pretend to judge that--affair at the river,

+Weatherby; it's none of my business. And the fact is, I want every man

+that can play baseball to report for practise. That's plain, isn't it?"

+

+"Yes. I'll keep on then for the present."

+

+"Of course, Weatherby, I can't guarantee that you'll be made welcome

+by the other candidates; you can understand that. They may act

+unpleasantly, or say ugly things. I'm not able to restrain them. You'll

+have to risk that, you know."

+

+"I understand," answered Jack calmly. "They've already called me a

+coward. I don't believe they can say anything worse."

+

+"No, I guess not." Joe looked curiously at the other. Then, "I say,

+Weatherby," he exclaimed, impulsively, "what was the trouble, anyway,

+the other day? I've only heard one side of it, and I fancy there's

+another, eh?"

+

+"I'd rather not talk about it, if you please," answered Jack coldly.

+

+"Oh, all right! I beg pardon." Joe felt somewhat huffed. His sympathy

+for the other was for the moment snuffed out. Jack moved toward the

+door.

+

+"By the way," said Joe, in business-like tones, "I think you told me

+you'd played ball some. Where was it?"

+

+"At home, on the high-school team. I played three years."

+

+"What position?"

+

+"I pitched the last year. Before that I played in the outfield,

+generally at right."

+

+"I see." Joe's hopes of the other's usefulness dwindled. He had seen

+a good many cases of ambitious freshmen whose belief in themselves

+as pitchers was not justified by subsequent events. Every year there

+reported for practise a dozen or so of hopeful youngsters, who firmly

+believed themselves capable of filling all such important positions

+as pitcher and catcher, merely on the strength of having played such

+positions with more or less success on some fourth- or fifth-rate team.

+Joe mentally assigned Jack to this class of deluded ones.

+

+"Well," he said, "of course you may count on having a fair trying-out,

+but I wouldn't hope for too much. You see, a fellow has to be something

+of an expert to get in the box here; it's different from playing on

+a high-school team. Besides, we're rather well fixed for pitchers:

+there's Gilberth and King and Knox, all of whom are first-class men.

+Of course, we want new material wherever we can find it, and if you

+prove that you can pitch good ball we'll give you all the chance

+you want. But if I were you I'd try for something else this spring,

+for some position in the field. We're long on pitchers and short on

+out-fielders. Of course, you could keep your hand in at twirling;

+there'd be plenty of opportunity for that at practise."

+

+"I'll take whatever I can get," answered Jack. "I don't lay any claim

+to being a wonder at pitching. I was the best we had in Auburn, but, of

+course, that doesn't mean very much."

+

+"Auburn, Maine? Do you live there?"

+

+"Two miles outside of town."

+

+"Is that so? Maybe you know a cousin of mine there, Billy Cromwell? His

+father has a big tannery. He graduated from here three years ago this

+coming spring."

+

+"I know him quite well," replied Jack, smiling for the first time since

+he had entered the study. "It was Billy who persuaded me to come here.

+He used to tell me about Erskine a good deal. Of course, he's seven or

+eight years older than I am, but he was always very nice to me."

+

+"Think of that!" said Joe. "The idea of you being a friend of Billy's!

+He's fine chap, is Billy. What's he doing now?"

+

+"Why, he's assistant superintendent. Every one likes him very much, and

+he's awfully smart, I guess. Well, I'll report again to-morrow. I'm

+glad I saw you, and--thank you."

+

+"Of course you'll report. And if I can help you at any time, just let

+me know." He opened the door and Jack passed out. "See you to-morrow,

+Weatherby."

+

+"Yes. Good afternoon."

+

+When Jack reached the head of the stairs he heard Joe's voice again and

+paused.

+

+"I say, Weatherby," the baseball captain was calling, "come around and

+see me sometimes. I want to hear more about Billy."

+

+"Thank you," was the non-committal reply.

+

+Joe closed the door, took up a Greek book, and went back to the

+window-seat. When he had found his place he looked at it frowningly a

+moment. "'Thank you,' says he," he muttered. "As much as to say, 'I'm

+hanged if I do!' That youngster is a puzzle; worse than this chump,

+Pausanias!"

+

+The warm spell of Thursday and Friday had been succeeded by a drop

+in temperature that had converted the pools into sheets of ice. The

+board-walks and the paths still made treacherous going, and when, after

+leaving Sessons Hall, in which Joe Perkins roomed, Jack had several

+times narrowly avoided breaking his neck, he left the paths and struck

+off across the glistening snow toward the lower end of the yard. It was

+almost dusk, and a cold, nipping wind from the north made him turn up

+the collar of his jacket and walk briskly. There were but few fellows

+in sight, and he was glad of it. To be sure, by this time he should

+have been inured to the silently expressed contempt which he met on

+every side, to the barely audible whispers that greeted his appearance

+at class, to the meaning smiles which he often intercepted as they

+passed from one neighbor to another. Yet despite that he was schooling

+himself to bear all these things calmly, and with no outward sign of

+the sting they inflicted, he was not yet quite master of himself, and

+was grateful that the coming darkness and the well-nigh empty yard

+promised him present surcease from his trials.

+

+Until he had entered Joe Perkins's study a quarter of an hour before

+he had met with no voicing of the public contempt. He had managed to

+accept Tracy Gilberth's veiled insult with unmoved countenance, yet it

+had required the greatest effort of any. He didn't know who that man

+was; he only knew, from observation in the practise-cage, that he was

+the foremost candidate for the position of pitcher, and so must be, in

+view of Perkins's remark, either Gilberth or King or Knox. Whoever he

+was, Jack vowed, some day he would be made to regret his words. For

+although Jack was accepting his fate in silence, he was very human, and

+meant, sooner or later, to even all scores.

+

+When he had almost reached College Place and had taken to the

+board-walk again, footsteps crunching the frosty planks ahead of him

+brought his mind suddenly away from thoughts of revenge. He looked up

+and saw that the man who approached and in another moment would pass

+him was Professor White. Jack stepped off the boards and went on with

+averted eyes. The professor recognized him at that instant, and as they

+came abreast spoke.

+

+"Good evening, Weatherby."

+

+There was no answer, nor did Jack turn his head. The professor frowned

+and stopped.

+

+"Weatherby!" he called sharply. Jack paused and faced him.

+

+"Well, sir?" he asked, quietly.

+

+"What does this mean? Are you trying to add boorishness to--to your

+other failings?"

+

+"No, sir, I was only trying to spare you the unpleasantness of speaking

+to a coward."

+

+"Very thoughtful of you," said the other, sarcastically. "But allow

+me to tell you, sir, that if you want to remove the--ah--the sorry

+impression you have made you will have to adopt a less high-and-mighty

+manner."

+

+"It's a matter of indifference to me what impression you hold, sir,"

+replied Jack simply. "Good night."

+

+The professor stood motionless and looked after the boy until he had

+crossed the street, the anger in his face slowly fading before a

+grudging admiration of the other's clever, if extremely impolite,

+retort. Presently he swung his green bag of books under his arm again

+and trudged on.

+

+"I wonder if I wasn't too hasty the other day," he muttered. "For a

+coward he's got a surprising amount of grit, apparently. He'll bear

+watching."

+

+Jack sped homeward, feeling rather pleased with himself. His score

+with the professor wasn't by any means even, but the encounter had put

+something to his credit, and as he remembered the professor's look of

+amazement and anger he chuckled.

+

+There was a light in Tidball's room as he crossed the corner of the

+Common, and as he looked a grotesque head showed in gigantic silhouette

+against the yellow curtain. Jack ran up the stairs and knocked at his

+neighbor's door.

+

+"Come in!" drawled the occupant of the western chamber, and Jack

+entered on a scene that caused him to pause just inside the door and

+stare in silent surprise.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VI

+

+IN DISGRACE

+

+

+Anthony Tidball confronted Jack with a pewter spoon in one hand and a

+small tin coffee-pot in the other. He was in his shirt-sleeves and a

+bath-towel was fastened around his neck, descending in wispy folds to

+his knees. On one end of the study table a second towel was laid, and

+upon it rested a plate of bread, a jar of preserves, a wedge of cheese,

+a can of condensed milk, a bowl of sugar, and cellars containing salt

+and pepper. Besides these Jack saw a plate appropriately surrounded by

+knife, fork, and spoon, and flanked by a cup and saucer. There was a

+perceptible, and not ungrateful, odor of cooking present. Anthony waved

+the coffee-pot hospitably, but carefully, toward the rocking-chair.

+

+[Illustration: Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.]

+

+"Hello, Weatherby," he said. "Sit down."

+

+"Wha--what are you doing?" gasped Jack.

+

+"Cooking supper. Have some? You're just in time." He took the towel

+from his neck and, going to the gas-stove, used it to remove a

+pie-plate from above a tiny frying-pan.

+

+"Supper?" echoed Jack. "Do you mean that you--cook your own meals?"

+

+"Yes," responded Anthony, calmly. He approached the table with the pan,

+and from it dexterously transferred six small sausages on to the empty

+plate. Then he put a spoonful of milk and two spoonsful of sugar into

+the bottom of the cup and filled it to the brim with steaming and very

+fragrant coffee. "Yes, I've been my own chef," he continued, "ever

+since I came here. When Gooch and I were together it was a good deal

+simpler. I got breakfast and he got supper; our lunches were just cold

+things. You see, Weatherby, we're poor folks, and I couldn't stay in

+college three months if I had to pay four dollars a week for meals. As

+it is, it's a close haul sometimes."

+

+"Everything looks very nice," murmured Jack, taking the chair and

+observing the proceedings with frank curiosity.

+

+"Well, if you don't object, I'll just begin operations while things are

+hot," said Anthony. He tucked a corner of the bath-towel under his chin

+and began his repast. "There's nothing sinful in poverty, they say,

+and of course they're right; but it's pretty hard sometimes not to be

+ashamed of it. I don't tell every one that I cook my meals in my room.

+It wouldn't do. But you were certain to find it out sooner or later,

+and it might as well be sooner. I say, would you mind turning off the

+gas over there? Thanks."

+

+"Do you mean that you can save money this way?" asked Jack as he sat

+down again.

+

+"You better believe it. When Gooch and I kept house together our food

+cost us about one dollar and five cents apiece every week. I guess now

+it'll cost me nearer two dollars."

+

+"But even then you're saving two dollars by not going to a

+boarding-house," said Jack reassuringly.

+

+"Yes, I know," replied Anthony, as he started on his second sausage,

+"but four dollars a week is my limit. And I'm paying more for this room

+than I did for my half of the other one. I guess I'll have to retrench

+a while. Dad pays my tuition and I look after the rest myself. I earn

+enough in the summer taking out fishing parties and the like of that to

+last me. Last summer was a poor season, though; fish wouldn't bite and

+folks wouldn't go out with me. However, I got a scholarship, and that

+helped some. But I'm sailing a good deal nearer the wind than I did

+last year. And next week I've got to go over to Robinson, and I guess

+that will just about bankrupt me for a while."

+

+"What are you going there for?" Jack inquired.

+

+"Debate."

+

+"Of course!" cried the other. "I remember now! I couldn't think where

+I'd heard your name. Why, you're the president of the Lyceum, aren't

+you? and the crack debater? The fellow who won for Erskine last year

+when every one expected to be beaten?"

+

+"Well, something of that sort," replied the junior. "Anyhow, I've got

+to go to Robinson next week. If we're defeated after I've gone and paid

+five dollars and eighty cents in railroad fares----!"

+

+Words failed him and he finished the last of the sausages with a woful

+shake of his head.

+

+"What are our chances?" asked Jack.

+

+"About the same as last year, I guess. We may and we mayn't. Robinson's

+got a fellow, named Heath, this year that's a wonder, they say. We've

+lost Browning and Soule, and that leaves us sort of weak."

+

+"I'd like to go," said Jack, "but I don't believe I could afford it."

+

+"Wish you could," Anthony responded heartily. "We need all the support

+we can get. If it was a football game, now, I guess the whole college

+would go along. As it is, I suppose we'll have about two dozen beside

+the speakers. Did you ever try condensed milk with raspberry jam?"

+

+Jack had to acknowledge that he never had.

+

+"It's right good," said Anthony, spreading a generous spoonful of the

+mixture on a slice of bread. "If you kind of shut your eyes and don't

+think about it the condensed milk tastes like thick cream."

+

+Jack watched in silence a moment. Then--

+

+"I took your advice," he announced.

+

+"Saw Perkins, you mean? What did he say?"

+

+"Said it was all right; said he was glad to have me."

+

+"That's good."

+

+"And I met Professor White in the yard."

+

+"What happened?" asked Anthony, turning his lean, spectacled face

+toward the other in evident interest. Jack recounted the conversation

+and Anthony grinned.

+

+"Pretty cheeky, though, weren't you?"

+

+"I suppose I was," Jack acknowledged. "But I don't care; he had no

+business saying I was boorish. He--he's a cad!"

+

+"Easy there! Don't call names, Weatherby; it's a mean way to fight.

+White's not as bad as he seems to you. He's made a mistake and when he

+discovers the fact he'll be the first to acknowledge it. You'll see."

+

+Anthony produced his brier pipe and began to smoke.

+

+"Bother you much to-day, did they?" he asked.

+

+"Some. I can stand it, I suppose."

+

+"They'll get tired pretty soon and forget it," said the other kindly.

+"Keep your hand on the tiller, take a couple of reefs in your temper,

+and watch out. There's your supper bell."

+

+"Yes, I must wash up. Are you going to be busy to-night?"

+

+"Not to hurt. Come in and bring your knitting."

+

+"I will," said Jack gratefully.

+

+The growing friendship with the new lodger was the one bright feature

+in Jack's existence at this time, and during the next few weeks he

+frequently found himself viewing with something that was almost

+equanimity the occurrence at the river and its results, since among

+the latter was his acquaintance with Anthony Tidball. Anthony had

+hosts of acquaintances, but few friends; friends, he declared, were

+too expensive. But he adopted Jack during the first week of their

+acquaintance, and at once became guardian, mentor, and big brother all

+rolled into one. Jack went to him with his troubles--and he had a good

+many in those days--and listened to his advice, and generally acted

+upon it. It was a new and delightful experience to the younger boy to

+have a chum, and he made the most of it, resorting to Anthony's room

+whenever he wanted society, and interrupting the junior's studying in

+a way that would have summoned a remonstrance from any one save the

+good-hearted victim. Anthony always laid aside his books and pens,

+filled his pipe, took one foot into his lap, and listened or talked

+with unfailing good nature. And after Jack had taken himself off,

+Anthony would discard his pipe and buckle down to work in a mighty

+effort to make up for lost time, not infrequently sitting with the

+gas-stove between his knees long after the village clock had struck

+twelve, and every one else in the house was fast asleep.

+

+Sometimes they took walks together, for both were fond of being

+outdoors, and it became a common thing to see the tall, awkward junior

+striding alongside the freshman and leaning down near-sightedly to

+catch his words. For a while the college world wondered and exclaimed.

+Tidball was a person of vast importance, a queer, quiet, serious sort

+of fellow, but a master at study and debate, a man whose counsels were

+asked for and hearkened to with deep respect, and in general opinion

+a person who would be heard from in no uncertain way in the future.

+Hence, when the college saw that Tidball had taken up Weatherby, the

+college began to suspect that it had very possibly been overhasty

+in its judgment of the latter youth. Indications of this began to be

+apparent even to Jack; fellows were less uneasy when lack of other

+seats made it necessary for them to sit beside him at Chapel or at

+recitations; several times he was greeted by name, rather shamefacedly

+to be sure, by members of his own class; and baseball practise became

+less of an ordeal for him, since the candidates generally showed a

+disposition to recognize his existence and speak him fair. But if

+these condescending ones looked for evidences of gratitude from Jack

+they were doomed to disappointment. He returned greetings politely but

+without cordiality, and made not the least move toward grasping the

+hand of fellowship so hesitatingly and doubtingly advanced.

+

+"If I was not good enough to associate with before," he told himself,

+"I'm no better now, merely because one man of prominence walks across

+the yard with me."

+

+He had never accepted Joe Perkins's invitation to call. He was grateful

+to the captain for the friendliness the latter had shown him, and

+continued to show him on every occasion. But Perkins believed him a

+coward, just as the others did. Joe repeated his invitation twice and

+then gave it up. Yet the more he saw of Jack the more he was inclined

+to doubt the fairness of the general verdict, and so, in spite of

+duties that took up practically every minute of his waking hours,

+he found time to write a letter to his cousin, Billy Cromwell, in

+Auburn. Eventually he received a reply. There were eight sheets of it

+altogether, as was natural, considering that Billy hadn't written to

+Joe previously for something over six months, but only a small portion

+of the epistle is of interest here.

+

+"I know Jack Weatherby very well [Billy wrote]. His folks and mine are

+old acquaintances. His father has a farm near here, but never has done

+very well with it, I believe. You know what some of our farms hereabout

+are; the Weatherby place is like them, only more so. Jack's a smart,

+plucky youngster; a good sort all through. If you can help him along

+you'll be doing me a favor. And I think you'll like him if you know

+him better. And if you can get him on to the nine you'll be doing well

+for the nine, I promise you. Jack's one of those dependable chaps that

+you meet about once in a thousand years; if he says he'll knock out a

+two-bagger, he'll do it. And he isn't afraid of work or anything else.

+That's about all, I think. You said you wanted to know all I could tell

+you about Jack, and I think I've told it. Remember me to him when you

+see him."

+

+Joe folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.

+

+"I never knew Billy to get taken in by any one yet," he said to

+himself, "and so I fancy we've sized up young Weatherby all wrong. I'll

+have another talk with him. Only--how to get hold of him?"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VII

+

+AT THE BATTING NETS

+

+

+Meanwhile Erskine had won a victory over Robinson, a victory which did

+not, perhaps, occasion as much enthusiasm as would have a triumph on

+the gridiron or the diamond, but which, nevertheless, pleased everybody

+greatly, and added new laurels to the wreath, encircling the brow of

+Anthony Zeno Tidball. Erskine won the debate. The result was never in

+doubt after Anthony delivered his argument, and when the last word

+had been said the judges did not even leave their seats, but, after a

+moment of whispered conference, awarded the victory to the visitors.

+

+The debaters and their small company of supporters did not return to

+Centerport until noon the next day, and long before that the morning

+papers had arrived and the college at large had proudly read their

+account of the contest. That explains why when Anthony, attired in a

+long, yellowish plaid ulster of great antiquity, and carrying his

+nightgown and toothbrush wrapped in a piece of brown paper, lurched

+from the train to the station platform and looked about him, his jaw

+dropped in ludicrous dismay, and he made a hurried effort to retreat.

+But his companions were crowding down behind him and he was forced

+forward into the ungentle hands of the cheering students, who filled

+the platform. Somehow, he never knew quite how, he was thrust and

+lifted to a baggage truck, from which, since his legs were securely

+pinioned by several enthusiastic jailers, he found it impossible

+to make his escape. So he hugged his bundle desperately and beamed

+good-humoredly about him, recognizing the advisability of making the

+best of things. The other debaters were hustled to his side in a wild

+medley of cheers, and then, clutching each other madly in an effort

+to maintain their balance, they were wheeled up and down the long

+platform in the vortex of a swirling throng and cheered to the echo,

+individually and collectively. For his part, Anthony was filled with a

+great relief when the train with its long line of grinning faces at the

+windows drew away, and with a greater relief when one of the occupants

+of the truck, losing his hold, tumbled between the framework, and so

+brought the triumphal procession to an end.

+

+The prey were allowed to escape, and Anthony drew his long ulster

+about his thin shanks and scuttled ungracefully into Town Lane and so

+out of the rabble of still cheering students. But he hadn't escaped

+Jack, for that youth, somewhat out of breath, overtook him before he

+had reached the corner and showered fragmentary congratulations upon

+him.

+

+"I got up--almost before--light," panted Jack, bravely trying to

+keep up with Anthony's long strides, "and went--down and--got

+a--paper--and--read--read-- Oh, don't go so fast, please!"

+

+Anthony moderated his pace and put an arm affectionately over the

+other's shoulders.

+

+"Did you?" he asked. "Well, now, that was real friendly."

+

+"And when I--saw--that you'd won--I danced a jig in--the--middle of

+Main Street!"

+

+"And haven't got your breath back yet?" laughed Anthony.

+

+"But--aren't you glad?" asked Jack.

+

+"I should say so," answered the other. "So tickled that I don't mind

+the money it cost."

+

+Another event, important to a large part of the college, took place

+a day or two later. March, which had raged in with a big snow-storm,

+relented and attempted the r�le of April. The ground dried and became

+firm and springy and little warm breezes almost induced one to believe

+that he had somehow lost track of the months and had torn one too few

+leaves from his calendar. Erskine Field, given over during the winter

+to snow and winds, clothed itself in a new green livery and suddenly

+became the Mecca for more than half the college. One Thursday morning

+the following welcome notice hung in the window of Butler's bookstore:

+

+    UNIVERSITY BASEBALL.--Outdoor practise on the Field at 4 sharp.

+    Candidates must bring their own togs.

+

+Jack went out to the field early and, having got into his baseball

+clothes, threw his white sweater over his back, and sat down on

+the steps of the locker-house in the sunshine. Many fellows passed

+him, going in and out of the building, some according him a word of

+greeting, others a mere nod, while still others pretended not to

+see him. But Jack was beyond slights to-day. The spring was in his

+blood and he would have liked to throw himself down on the grass and

+roll over like a colt for mere joy of living. Instead, he only beat

+a restless tattoo with his heels and watched the passers. Presently

+the varsity squad trotted out; King, who played left field and

+was substitute pitcher; Billings, third-baseman; "Wally" Stiles,

+second-baseman; Knox, last year's shortstop and substitute pitcher;

+"Teddy" Motter, crack first-baseman; Lowe, center-fielder, and several

+more, with Gilberth emerging last of all in talk with Joe Perkins.

+

+Jack watched Gilberth as he went by, much as a cat watches a mouse

+beyond its present reach. He had a score to even with Tracy Gilberth,

+and he was convinced that in good time the opportunity would come to

+him to even it. Meanwhile he waited patiently, observing Gilberth like

+a calm, inscrutable Fate. Gilberth had a firm grasp on the pitcher's

+place, while Jack was only one of the second squad, and so, of late,

+their paths seldom crossed, and the senior had had no chance to give

+expression to his sentiments regarding the freshman. Of this Jack

+was glad, since Gilberth's contemptuous glances roused his hatred as

+nothing else could.

+

+The varsity squad took possession of the diamond and began practising.

+Presently Bissell, the varsity center-fielder, made his appearance and

+took the second squad in charge. Bissell was out of the game for the

+while with a sprained ankle, and Hanson, the head coach, had placed

+the second squad under his wing. There were sixteen of them in all,

+for the most part upper classmen who had failed to make the varsity

+the year before, with a sprinkling of sophomores and two freshmen.

+The freshmen were Jack and a small, wiry chap, named Clover, who was

+trying for shortstop. Bissell led the way to the batting nets and soon

+they were hard at work. A third squad, made up of some twenty more or

+less hopeless candidates, many of them freshmen who would later form

+the nucleus of their class nine, were occupying an improvised diamond

+at the farther end of the football field. The scene was animated and

+interesting. The sharp crack of bat meeting ball, the shrill cries of

+the coachers, and the low thud of flying spheres against padded gloves

+filled the air.

+

+Jack had just finished his first turn at bat by sending a hot grounder

+across the grass, and had taken his place at the end of the line again

+when he heard an authoritative voice addressing Bissell, and looked

+around to find the head coach standing by.

+

+"Haven't you got a man who can pitch better than that, Bissell?" asked

+the coach.

+

+Bissell surveyed the candidates doubtfully and the man who was

+pitching, quailing under the disapproving eye of the coach, threw his

+next ball over the batsman's head and so completed his disgrace. The

+head coach was a small man, small in stature and small of limb and

+feature, but possessed of a shrewd and sharp brown eye that was the

+terror of shirking candidates. He was unmistakably good-looking, was

+Hanson--his full name was Alfred Ward Hanson--and had the faculty

+of commanding instant respect, rather a difficult feat for a small

+man. He was aided there, however, by a reputation for wonderful

+playing; nothing commands the respect and allegiance of the soldier

+or the athlete as does past prowess, and an army officer or college

+coach whose history contains valorous deeds is seldom troubled with

+insubordination or discouraged by half-heartedness in the ranks. Hanson

+was liked, respected, admired, and--feared.

+

+"You must have somebody here that's able to pitch a straight ball,"

+continued the coach.

+

+"There ought to be," replied Bissell. "How about it, you fellows? Can

+any of you pitch?"

+

+There was a moment's silence. Undoubtedly several of them could, but

+with Hanson's dissatisfied gaze upon them they hesitated to make known

+their accomplishment. It was Jack who spoke first.

+

+"I can pitch some," he said, in matter-of-fact tones, stepping out of

+the line. "I'll try, if you like."

+

+"Go ahead then," said Hanson. "It isn't necessary to pitch curves; just

+get an occasional ball over the plate."

+

+The head coach went over to the other net and Jack took the place of

+the retired pitcher. He hadn't tried pitching since the summer and his

+first ball went very wide. The line of waiting batsmen grinned; some

+even laughed audibly.

+

+"That's a great deal better," remarked one of them with fine sarcasm,

+and the laugh became general.

+

+"That'll do, Showell," exclaimed Bissell. "We don't need your opinion."

+Showell, a junior, and the fellow whom Jack had ousted, grinned

+sheepishly under the amused glances of the others and Jack settled

+down to business. After a few poor balls he got his hand in again and

+Bissell nodded approvingly. One after another the candidates took their

+places in front of the net and stayed there until they had made clean

+hits. Jack did not attempt to puzzle them, for at this time of year,

+despite the practise in the cage, batting work was still pretty poor.

+He delivered straight balls as slow as possible and the line moved

+along quickly. When Showell took his place, however, Jack remembered

+his sarcastic remark and resolved to make the former pitcher earn his

+hit. He attempted no curves or drops, but sent the first ball very

+straight over the square of wood that did duty as a plate. But if it

+was straight it was also swift, so swift that Showell merely looked at

+it go by and then glanced inquiringly at Jack as he tossed it back to

+him.

+

+He gripped his bat afresh then, and waited the next ball confidently.

+It came, and was, if anything, swifter than the one before. Showell

+struck at it hard, but was half a foot too late. The watchers began to

+guess what was up and looked on interestedly.

+

+"Shorten your swing, Showell," directed Bissell. "You were way too late

+then."

+

+Showell's face took on a deep red and he gritted his teeth as Jack

+slowly and calmly threw up his arms for the next delivery. Again the

+ball came straight and fast over the plate and this time Showell struck

+an instant too soon and the sphere glanced up off his bat, bounded

+against the hood of the net, and came down on his head ere he could

+duck. He picked it out of the dust and tossed it back with no pleasant

+expression. The line was grinning appreciatingly by this time, but

+Jack's face showed neither amusement nor interest. Again Showell struck

+and missed miserably.

+

+"What are you pitching, Weatherby?" Bissell asked suspiciously.

+

+"Just straight balls," answered Jack, simulating surprise.

+

+"Well, now look here, Showell," said the acting coach, "do try and

+remember what you've been taught. Give me the bat." Bissell took the

+other's place. "Don't stand as though you were going to run away. Face

+the plate; if you're hit you've got your base. Now, watch me. All

+right, Weatherby."

+

+Jack sent him a fairly fast ball, and Bissell took it neatly on the end

+of his stick and sent it sailing in a short flight toward right field.

+

+"You see, Showell? Swing back easily and don't try to slug the ball. If

+you swing hard you miss your balance nine times out of ten. Bring the

+bat around easily on a line with the ball, hold it firmly and you've

+got your hit. Try it again, please."

+

+Showell did try it again and struck a palpable foul. Once more he tried

+and missed entirely. By this time he was as mad as a hatter.

+

+"I can't hit them unless he sends them over the plate," he growled,

+eying Jack aggressively.

+

+"You need to learn how to bat," said a voice behind him. "I guess it

+would do you good to have a term with the third squad."

+

+He looked around into the face of Hanson, who unnoticed, had been

+watching his work for several minutes. He subsided and again faced the

+pitcher. But Jack had no desire to bring about Showell's removal to

+the third squad, and so sent him a slow ball that he could not help

+hitting. When Showell had yielded his bat to the next man and stepped

+away Hanson turned to Bissell.

+

+"Who's that fellow?" he asked.

+

+"Showell, a junior."

+

+"Junior? No, no; I mean the youngster that's pitching."

+

+"Oh, that's Weatherby, a freshman."

+

+"Weatherby? Oh, yes." He watched Jack send in a couple more balls and

+then turned to Bissell again. "You'd better let him keep on pitching,"

+he said. "Seems to me he's rather promising. What do you think?"

+

+"I've never seen him pitch until to-day," answered Bissell. "But he

+seems to be able to send in good, clean, straight balls. I don't

+suppose he knows much about anything else, though."

+

+"Well, keep your eye on him," said Hanson. "Can't have too many

+pitchers, and that chap looks as though he might learn."

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VIII

+

+THE LAST STRAW

+

+

+Jack marked the first of April a red-letter day in his memory, for on

+that day he was taken on to the varsity nine as substitute. The fact

+was made known to him after practise when, with the others, he was

+dressing himself in the locker-house. The head coach appeared in their

+midst with a slip of paper and Jack listened indifferently until he

+heard his name spoken. Even then the absurd idea came to him that it

+was an April fool.

+

+"Just a moment, please," said Hanson; and when the hubbub had suddenly

+ceased, "the training-table will start in the morning at Pearson's,"

+he announced, "and the following men will report there for breakfast:

+King, Knox, Gilberth, Billings, Stiles, Motter, Bissell, Lowe, Northup,

+Smith, Griffin, Mears, and Weatherby. Later, about the middle of the

+month, more men will be taken on. At present these are all we can

+accommodate. Breakfast is at eight prompt, and we want every man to be

+there on time. That's all."

+

+After he had gone out those of the fellows remaining began an

+interested discussion of the announcement. Jack, pulling on his shoes,

+listened silently.

+

+"Where were you, Jimmie?" asked King.

+

+"I'm one of the 'also-rans,' I guess," answered Riseman, a substitute

+fielder, sadly.

+

+"Beaten by a freshie," called a fellow across the room. "Fie, fie, for

+shame!"

+

+"Who's the freshie?" called some one else.

+

+"Weatherby," answered two or three voices. "Weatherby, the brave!"

+added another. An admonitory "S--s--s--sh!" arose from Jack's vicinity,

+and King whispered around the corner of the next alley: "Shut up,

+you fellows; he's over here." And then another voice, one which Jack

+instantly recognized as Gilberth's, drowned King's warning.

+

+"Do you suppose Hanson expects us to sit at the same table with that

+bounder?" he asked loudly.

+

+Jack's face paled, and he bent his head quickly over the shoe he was

+lacing. "He knows I'm here," he told himself grimly, "and pretends he

+doesn't. If he says 'Coward,' I'll--I'll--" A lace broke in his hand.

+King suddenly began talking very loudly to Riseman about the baseball

+news from Robinson, but above that Jack heard Gilberth's voice again:

+

+"I'd be afraid he'd put poison in my coffee. A fellow that'll stand

+by and see a person drown before his eyes without making a move at

+helping him might do anything. For my part-- What? Who is?" There was

+an instant's pause. Then, "Well," continued the speaker in slightly

+lowered tones, "there's an old proverb about listeners--" The rest

+trailed off into silence.

+

+King was still talking volubly and seemingly at random. In spite of

+his almost overmastering anger, Jack recognized King's good-hearted

+attempt to spare him pain, and was grateful. His hands trembled so

+that he could scarcely tie his broken string, and the tears were very

+near the surface; he had to gulp hard once or twice to keep them back.

+The temptation to kick off the unlaced shoe, dash recklessly around

+the corner, and knock Gilberth down, to fight him until he could no

+longer stand, was strong. He kept his head bent and his blazing eyes

+on the floor and fought down the impulse. He had promised Anthony to

+keep silence; to lose command of himself now would be to waste all

+those weeks of self-repression which, he believed, and was right in

+believing, had made a favorable impression upon his fellows. He tried

+to think of other things, of his luck in being taken on to the varsity,

+of how pleased Anthony would be at hearing about it. Presently he

+finished lacing his shoes, stood up and calmly donned his coat. Then,

+in spite of himself, he hesitated.

+

+The thought of passing through the locker-room under the staring,

+antagonistic eyes of a score or so of men, of running the gantlet of

+whispers and low laughter, for the moment appalled him. Then, as he

+slowly buttoned the last button, he heard a voice at his side.

+

+"Ready, Weatherby? If you don't mind, I'll walk back with you."

+

+He looked around into the pleasant face of King and, after a moment of

+surprise, muttered assent. The central aisle was filled with fellows

+in various stages of attire and the two had to worm their way through.

+Jack went first, doing his level best to look unconcerned and at ease,

+and King followed close behind him, talking over his shoulder all

+the way. At the door King stepped ahead and threw open the portal,

+guiding Jack through with a friendly push on the back. When they had

+disappeared, one or two witnesses of the affair exchanged surprised or

+amused glances. But only Gilberth commented aloud.

+

+"Very touching!" he laughed. "King to the rescue of Insulted Innocence!"

+

+"Oh, forget it!" growled some one from the depths of a twilit alley.

+

+Outside, on the porch, Jack turned to King with reddened cheeks. "Thank

+you," he said.

+

+"All right," answered the other carelessly. "Fair play, you know."

+

+Jack hesitated, waiting for the other to take his departure. King

+looked at him quizzically.

+

+"Look here, Weatherby, don't be so beastly snobbish," he expostulated

+with a touch of impatience. "If you object to my company back to the

+Yard, just say so, but don't look as though I was too low down to

+associate with."

+

+Jack colored and looked distressed.

+

+"I didn't mean to, honestly!" he protested. "Of course, I don't object

+to your company. I--I only thought----"

+

+"Well, come on, then." They went down the steps together, just as the

+door opened to emit a handful of players. "Don't get it into your head,

+Weatherby, that we're all cads," King continued, "just because Gilberth

+occasionally acts like one. The fact is, there are plenty of fellows

+back there who are quite ready to be decent if you'll give them half a

+chance. The trouble is, though, you look as though you didn't care a

+continental for anybody. Perhaps you don't; but it isn't flattering,

+you see. I dare say it sounds pretty cheeky for me to talk like this to

+you, especially as we've never been properly introduced and haven't

+spoken before, but I've been here a year longer than you have, and I

+know how easy it is to make mistakes. And it seems to me you're making

+one."

+

+"I don't think you're cheeky," answered Jack quite humbly. "I don't

+mean to have folks think I'm--think I'm indifferent, either."

+

+"That's all right, then," replied King heartily. "They say you're

+coming out as a pitcher," he went on, changing the subject, to Jack's

+relief. "Bissell was telling me to-day."

+

+"I've been pitching some on the second nine," answered Jack.

+

+"Where did you play before you came to college?" asked the other. Jack

+told him about the high-school nine at Auburn, and the rest of the

+way back the talk remained on baseball matters. He parted from his

+new acquaintance at the corner of the Yard, and went on alone through

+a soft, spring-like twilight to his room. He had gained one more of

+the enemy to his side, he reflected, and that alone was a good day's

+work. But besides that he had been taken on to the varsity squad, and

+altogether the day was a memorable one. He climbed the stairs happily,

+the sting of the incident in the locker-house no longer felt.

+

+Anthony was quite as pleased with his news as Jack had expected him to

+be, and the two sat together until late that evening discussing the

+unexpected stroke of fortune.

+

+"Wouldn't be surprised if they let you play in Saturday's game," said

+Anthony. Jack laughed ruefully.

+

+"I should," he answered. "But it's something to sit on the varsity

+bench."

+

+The next morning Jack dressed himself under mild excitement at the

+thought of making his appearance at the training-table. He had notified

+Mrs. Dorlon the evening before of his departure from her hospitable

+board and that lady had sniffed disappointedly at the notion of losing

+her only boarder. But Jack had no regrets for the separation. Pearson's

+was only about a block from Mrs. Dorlon's, but, nevertheless, Jack

+reached there several minutes late. The baseball players had been given

+the big dining-room on the front of the house in which last fall's

+successful football team, winner of the remarkable 2--0 game with

+Robinson, had eaten their way to glory.

+

+When Jack entered, the table at first glance appeared to be filled.

+The next moment he saw that there were three empty seats, two at the

+farther end of the table and one near at hand, between Gilberth and

+Northup. He reflected that it might look cheeky to parade the length

+of the room, and so, returning the nods of several of the fellows,

+he slipped into the chair beside Gilberth, fervently hoping that the

+latter would take no notice of him. Gilberth was busily recounting

+an adventure which had befallen him the day before while out in his

+automobile--he was the proud possessor of the only motor vehicle in the

+town of Centerport--and it is probable that he did not observe Jack's

+entrance.

+

+"It was just at that narrow stretch before you get to the blacksmith's

+shop," he was saying. "The fellow had a load of bricks. Well, he

+stopped, and I stopped, and we looked at each other. Finally, he called

+out, 'Say, you'll have to back to the corner, I guess. We can't pass

+here.' 'Back nothing,' I said. 'These things aren't taught to back.'

+'They ain't?' said he. 'But you don't expect that I'm going to back

+with this load on, do you?' 'It's a good deal to expect,' I answered,

+looking sorry, 'but if you don't, we're likely to stay here until

+Christmas.' You'd ought to have heard him swear! It was as good as a

+circus! Well----"

+

+"How are you, Weatherby?" asked Joe Perkins at that moment.

+

+As Jack replied, Gilberth turned and saw him. Stopping short in his

+narrative, he silently gathered up his plate, cup, and saucer, and

+pushing back his chair, arose and walked around the table to one of the

+other empty seats. The talk died out abruptly, and the fellows watched

+the proceedings in dead silence. Gilberth's action had taken Jack

+completely by surprise, and for a moment he could only stare amazedly.

+Then, as the full force of the insult struck him, the color flooded his

+cheeks until they burned like fire. His eyes, avoiding the faces across

+the board, fell upon the sympathetic countenance of the captain, and it

+was the look of concern he found there that upset him. The tears rushed

+into his eyes and the hand on the table trembled. He put it in his

+lap, where it clenched its fellow desperately, and stared miserably at

+the white cloth. Suddenly upon the uncomfortable silence a voice broke

+calmly. Gilberth, having settled himself in his new seat, was going on

+with his story, just as though there had been no interruption.

+

+"After he'd called me everything he could think of," he continued, "he

+got down and started to back. It took him ten minutes to get to the

+blacksmith shop, and maybe he wasn't mad! After I got by him, I gave

+him a little exhibition, free of charge. I backed the machine all over

+the place, and pretty nearly stood it on end. You ought to have seen

+his eyes; they almost popped out of his head. And just when he was

+beginning to recover his voice, I waved good-by to him, and lit out.

+Funniest thing you ever saw!"

+

+One or two of his audience laughed half-heartedly, but the most looked

+gravely disgusted.

+

+"You have a wonderfully keen sense of humor," observed Joe Perkins

+dryly. Then the conversation began again, and the waitress brought

+Jack's breakfast. He ate it silently, or as much of it as he could; the

+coffee scalded his throat, and the steak very nearly choked him. King,

+sitting near-by, spoke to him once, and he answered. But his voice

+wasn't quite steady, and so the other wisely refrained from further

+attempts at conversation. One by one the fellows left the room, and as

+soon as he dared, Jack followed. He kept his head very high all the way

+back to his room; but in each cheek there was a bright disk of crimson

+and his eyes stared straight ahead. A tramp slouching along, with hands

+in pockets, moved aside to let him pass, but Jack never saw him.

+

+When he had entered the front door, he moved very quietly, mounting the

+stairs as though contemplating burglary. Anthony's door was ajar, and

+Jack tiptoed toward it and looked into the bare and shabby room. It was

+empty, and the fact seemed to relieve him. Crossing to his own room, he

+turned the key in the lock and began feverishly to pack his valise.

+The task did not take him long, and when it was completed, and the bag

+stood beside the door secured and strapped, he went to the desk and,

+seizing a sheet of paper, wrote hurriedly. When the composition was

+finished, he read it through.

+

+    "DEAR FRIEND [it ran]: There's no use trying any more. I

+    thought I could stand it, but I just can't. After what happened

+    this morning, there's only one thing for me to do, and I'm

+    going to do it. I'm very sorry to go away from you, because you

+    have been awfully kind to me, and you are the first one I ever

+    knew who seemed like a chum. But I'm going home, and not coming

+    back any more, because I can't stand every one thinking I'm a

+    coward, and Gilberth treating me like mud. I'm sorry I can't

+    keep my promise to you, if it was really a promise, and please

+    don't think I haven't tried, because I have tried very hard.

+    Please don't remember it against me. I'm very, very sorry.

+    Maybe I will meet you again some time.

+

+    "Your sincere friend,

+

+    "JOHN WEATHERBY.

+

+    "P. S. Please keep this charm to remember me by, if you don't

+    mind. You wear it on your watch-chain. Good-by.           J. W."

+

+He placed the note and the watch-charm in an envelope, sealed and

+addressed it, and crossed with it to Anthony's room. When he returned

+a moment later, he held something concealed in his hand. He unstrapped

+his valise, and as he did so a noise in the hall outside caused him to

+glance nervously at the door. Quickly opening the bag he dropped the

+object he held into it, and again secured it. Going into the hall, he

+listened. All was still. Returning, he took up bag and overcoat and

+cautiously crept down the stairs and out of the house. Fearful of being

+seen, he turned to the left and made his way to the station by Murdoch

+Street and the railroad.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER IX

+

+ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE

+

+

+Anthony returned to his room after the first recitation. He had

+discovered while in his class that he had forgotten his watch, and

+remembered that he had left it lying on his study table. The first

+thing that caught his eyes when he entered his room was an envelope

+bearing the inscription in a round, boyish hand, "Anthony Tidball.

+Present." Wondering, he tore it open. Something fell from it and rolled

+to the floor. When found it proved to be a brown Florida bean with a

+little gold-plated swivel at one end. Anthony stared from the bean to

+the envelope; then the thought that the latter probably held a note

+came to him and he went back to it.

+

+He read the note very slowly, a frown deepening the while on his face.

+He read it the second time and then carefully restored it to the

+envelope, thrust his big hands into his trousers pockets and lurched

+to the dormer-window. For a minute or two he stood there looking out

+across the Common into a tender green mist of quickening branches.

+Finally he sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the room.

+

+"Poor kid," he muttered.

+

+But perhaps, he reflected, it was not too late to intercept him.

+When did the trains leave? He pulled out a table drawer and found a

+time-card. There was one at 9.22; that had gone. There was another,

+an express, at 10.16. If Jack had missed the first it was possible,

+thought Anthony, to reach the station in time to bring him back. It was

+now----

+

+He felt for his watch, and for the first time since finding the note

+recollected the reason of his return. He glanced quickly over the

+table. The watch was not in sight. He distinctly remembered placing

+it on the blotting-pad while he changed the rather heavy vest he had

+been wearing all winter for a lighter one. He pushed aside books and

+papers and searched the table from end to end. Then he went through his

+drawers and finally, while realizing the uselessness of it, unlocked

+and searched his trunk. After he had felt in the pockets of what few

+clothes he possessed he accepted the fact that the watch was gone. But

+where? Who could have taken it? Who had been in the room--besides Jack?

+Jack----!

+

+He sat down in the rocker and stared blankly, frowningly, at the

+window. It was the stupidest thing in the world to suspect Jack. And

+yet--! With a mutter of disgust at himself for the entertainment of

+such a wild suspicion, he jumped up and surveyed the room. But the bed

+was still unmade and the momentary hope that Mrs. Dorlon might have

+come across the watch and put it away for him had to be relinquished.

+He hurried down-stairs and found his hostess in the kitchen. No, she

+told him, she hadn't been up-stairs yet and hadn't seen the watch. Had

+any one been up there? Well, she didn't know of any one. Still, the

+door had been open all the morning and-- Why, yes, come to think of it,

+she had thought once that she heard footsteps up-stairs and presumed

+that they were Mr. Weatherby's, though to be sure she hadn't seen him

+come in or go out. Could she help Mr. Tidball look for it?

+

+Anthony politely declined her proffered assistance and returned to

+his room. He searched again about the table, striving to convince

+himself that he had not left the watch there; that he had worn it to

+recitation, that the chain had become detached from his buttonhole

+and that the watch had fallen from his pocket. But it wouldn't do.

+He remembered clearly just how the timepiece had looked lying in its

+chamois case upon the blotter, with the heavy gold chain curling away

+toward the ink-bottle. Perhaps Jack had come in to find out the time

+and had unconsciously taken the watch back to his room with him? Of

+course, that must be it!

+

+He strode across the hall and into the other chamber. There were

+evidences of hurried flight; the little steamer trunk stood in the

+middle of the floor and a few odds and ends of rubbish lay about the

+bed and table. But the watch was not in sight. The latest explanation

+of its disappearance had seemed so plausible that Anthony experienced

+keen disappointment. Turning, he retraced his steps toward the door.

+Half-way there he stopped and stared as though fascinated at something

+lying at his feet. Stooping, he picked it up and looked at it carefully

+in the forlorn hope that it would prove to be other than what it was, a

+little chamois watch-pouch.

+

+Finally he dropped it into his pocket and went back to his room,

+stepping very quietly, as though leaving a chamber of sickness. He

+stared aimlessly about for a moment, and then, with a start, took up

+his note-books and descended the stairs. Mrs. Dorlon, blacking the

+kitchen stove, heard the door open and looked up to see the lean,

+spectacled face of her new lodger peering through. He looked rather

+pale and sickly that morning, she thought.

+

+"Just wanted to tell you that it's all right," he said. "I found my

+watch. It was in the--the washstand."

+

+After he had gone she suddenly paused and sniffed perplexedly. "Now

+that's funny," she thought. "How could he have found it in the

+washstand when the washstand hasn't any drawer nor nothin'?"

+

+At the luncheon-table Jack was conspicuous by his absence. The story of

+Gilberth's action at breakfast had filtered through college in a dozen

+varied forms until by noon it was pretty widely known. The general

+opinion was that Gilberth had acted brutally; there were even some

+few who flatly called his behavior contemptible; there were others,

+fewer still, who thought that he had "given Weatherby just what he

+deserved." There was considerable relief felt by the more charitably

+disposed members of the training-table when Jack failed to appear, for

+his suffering at the breakfast-table had not been a pleasant thing

+to watch. Gilberth, however, was in high feather. He believed Jack's

+absence was a result of his treatment in the morning, and was quite

+proud of his abilities as a public prosecutor. But the rest of the

+table somehow did not appear to be quite so pleased with him. This

+fact was shown by a disposition to avoid entering into conversation

+with him. His remarks were received in silence, and after a while he

+gave up the attempt to entertain the company and finished his meal in

+ruffled dignity.

+

+When luncheon was over "Baldy" Simson, the trainer, who occupied the

+seat at the foot of the board, called Joe Perkins's attention to the

+fact of Jack's absence.

+

+"I know," Joe answered, looking rather worried. "I'm going to look him

+up; you needn't bother. By the way, Tracy, just wait a minute, will

+you? I want to see you." Gilberth, in the act of leaving the room,

+returned and tilting a chair toward him slid into it over the back with

+a fine appearance of unconcern.

+

+"Fire away, Joe," he said. "But I've got a two-o'clock, and it's

+getting late."

+

+Simson went out and left the two together and alone, save for the

+waitress who had begun clearing off the table. Joe pushed his plate

+away and looked gravely across at his friend.

+

+"Look here, Tracy, this thing has simply got to stop, you know."

+

+"What thing?" asked the other, raising his eyebrows.

+

+"Why, you know what I mean. I won't have Weatherby persecuted the way

+you're doing. I can't turn out a decent team unless you fellows get

+together and work in harmony. You know that as well as I do. Whatever

+your sentiments toward Weatherby may be, you've got to treat him

+politely in his position as a member of the varsity nine. I won't have

+any more scenes like the one you brought about this morning. You're

+worrying Weatherby half sick. He may be what you think he is; I'm not

+in position to know; but it's all nonsense for you to take on yourself

+the duties of judge, jury, and hangman. You attend to yourself and let

+Weatherby attend to himself. That's what I want you to do."

+

+Joe's voice had been getting sharper and sharper as he proceeded and

+when he had finished his eyes were sparkling dangerously. As always,

+when Joe's temper threatened to get the better of him, Tracy's usual

+aggressiveness disappeared and gave place to a sullen stubbornness. Now

+he traced figures on the stained cloth with a fork and was silent a

+minute before he made reply. Then:

+

+"There's no use in your lecturing me like that," he muttered. "You can

+stick up for Weatherby if you want to, but you needn't think you can

+make me coddle him too. The fellow's a coward and a cad, and you've no

+business asking decent fellows to sit at table with him."

+

+"You'll sit at table with him or you'll get out," cried Joe hotly.

+

+"Then I'll get out!"

+

+There was silence for a moment, during which Tracy continued to mark up

+the cloth and Joe struggled more or less successfully to get command of

+his temper. Finally he asked, almost calmly:

+

+"Do you mean that you'll leave the team, that you'll throw me over and

+threaten the college with defeat for a mere whim?"

+

+"It isn't a whim," growled Tracy. "It--it's a principle."

+

+Joe smiled in spite of himself and the last of his ill-humor vanished.

+

+"Oh, don't talk poppycock, Tracy," he said. "Look here, you must

+see how difficult you're making it for Hanson and me. We can't do

+what we want to do if there are dissensions among you chaps. Like a

+good fellow, promise me to leave Weatherby alone. He isn't going to

+interfere with you; you know that. The other fellows aren't kicking up

+a row about having him at table, so why should you? Besides, Tracy,

+consider what a thundering hard row the chap has to hoe. Maybe he acted

+the coward; I didn't see it and don't know; but even if he did it's

+more than likely that he's a lot worse ashamed of it than you are,

+and probably wants to make up for it. Give him a show, can't you? Be

+generous, Tracy!"

+

+"Well, let him keep away from me, then," Tracy growled.

+

+"How can he when you're both on the team?" asked Joe impatiently. "We

+want him because he's got the making of a good player; he's sure,

+quick, and--honest."

+

+"Huh!"

+

+"Yes, honest! We've watched him just as we've watched all you

+fellows--perhaps a bit more, because he's under suspicion, as it

+were--and he's played us fair every time. He's done as he's been told

+and done it just as hard as he knew how. And it's all wrong to call a

+man dishonest until he's done something dishonest."

+

+"How about that affair at the river?" asked the other sneeringly.

+

+"A man may be a coward at a--a crisis and a brave man all the rest of

+his life. Physical cowardice isn't dishonesty. For that matter, I can

+imagine a chap running from bullets and yet standing up like a little

+man in front of bayonets. I'm not sure I wouldn't run away from bullets

+myself, and if I were you I wouldn't be too sure, either."

+

+"I'm not a coward," cried Tracy.

+

+"I don't say you are; I don't think you are. And yet you're not brave

+enough to let public opinion go hang and give that poor duffer,

+Weatherby, a fighting chance!"

+

+Gilberth received this in silence, staring moodily at the table. The

+bell in the tower of College Hall began its imperative summons and Joe

+pushed back his chair and arose. Tracy followed his example.

+

+"I didn't mean to keep you so long," said the former. He overtook the

+other at the door and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Don't mind

+my ill-temper, old man. There's no use in having a friend if you can't

+bully him a little now and then. And--er--think over what I said, will

+you?"

+

+"Oh, that's all right," answered Tracy grudgingly. "No harm done. See

+you later."

+

+Joe stood on the porch and watched him cross the road and disappear up

+the broad gravel-path toward the laboratories. Then Joe passed down the

+steps and through the gate with a little smile of satisfaction on his

+face.

+

+"Yes, it is all right," he told himself. "He'll do as I want him to.

+But I wish--I do wish I hadn't lost my pesky temper!"

+

+He turned to the left toward Washington Street and as he neared the

+corner he caught sight of a tall fellow crossing the Common with long

+awkward strides. The ill-fitting clothes and the little stoop of the

+shoulders were sufficient to reveal the man's identity at first glance,

+and Joe hailed him:

+

+"O _Tid_-ball! O Tid-_ba-a-all_!"

+

+Anthony paused, looked, waved a note-book responsively, and stumbling

+over a "Keep off the grass" sign, crossed the turf and clambered over

+the fence.

+

+"How are you, Tidball?" asked Joe, shaking hands. For some reason

+fellows usually did shake hands with Anthony when they met him, just

+as they thumped other acquaintances on the back or punched them in

+the ribs or pulled their caps over their eyes. "You're just the man I

+wanted to see," Joe went on. "As usual, we're just about stone broke;

+the Baseball Association, I mean. We've got to have a lot of money for

+the nine and we've got to raise it by subscription. The schedule has

+the team down for five games away from home, and that means a heap of

+expense. The Athletic Association has given us all they could afford

+to, about one hundred and fifty dollars, but that won't last us any

+time. So we're going to get up a mass meeting in about a week or so and

+try and raise the dust. And we want you to speak for us; whoop things

+up a bit, you know. Can you do it?"

+

+"S'pose so," answered Anthony doubtfully. "But I don't know a blamed

+thing about baseball."

+

+"You won't have to. We've got plenty of chaps who can talk baseball;

+what we want is some one who can open their pockets. We're depending on

+you, Tidball, so say yes, like a good chap. Hanson is going to speak,

+and so is Professor Nast, and so am I. And we're trying to get the dean

+to hem and haw a bit for us. But we need you like anything. What do you

+say?"

+

+"I'll do what I can," said Anthony. "You let me know when it's to be

+and tell me what you want me to say. Don't believe, though, Perkins,

+the fellows will pay much attention to what I've got to say about

+baseball. 'Tisn't as though I knew a ball from a--a----"

+

+"From another ball, eh? Don't let that bother you. I'm awfully much

+obliged; it's very nice of you. And I'll let you know all about it in a

+day or two. By the way, though, where are you living now? Some one said

+you'd left the old joint."

+

+"Yes, I had to when Gooch went home. I'm at Mrs. Dorlon's, down the row

+there."

+

+"Oh, are you? I was just going there. Doesn't young Weatherby room

+there?"

+

+"Yes."

+

+"Is he in now, do you know?"

+

+Anthony settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose before he

+replied.

+

+"No, he's not in just now." He hesitated a moment. Then, "Guess you

+might as well know about it," he said musingly.

+

+"About what?"

+

+"'Bout Weatherby."

+

+"What's he done?"

+

+"Gone home."

+

+"Gone home?"

+

+"Yes, left college."

+

+"But what for? When did he go?" asked Joe in surprise.

+

+"This morning. He left a note for me. Don't know whether it's my place

+to tell folks or not. Maybe you'd better keep it quiet. He might change

+his mind, you know."

+

+"I see," replied Joe thoughtfully. "Do you--do you happen to know why

+he left?"

+

+"Yes, and I guess you do, too."

+

+"You mean----?"

+

+"Yes. He stuck it out as long as he could, but I guess things got too

+hot for him. His note made mention of something that happened this

+morning at training-table."

+

+"By Jove!" muttered the other. "It's a blamed shame! You know,

+Tidball, I never quite believed him the--er--coward they say he is.

+What do you think?"

+

+"Me? Oh, I don't know," answered Anthony uneasily, puckering his lips

+together. "Maybe he isn't."

+

+Joe looked a little surprised.

+

+"I don't know just why," he said, "but I had an idea you'd support

+my judgment of him. Well, perhaps it's just as well that he's gone.

+Although he had the making of----"

+

+"No, no," cried Anthony in sudden contrition, the blood rushing into

+his thin face. "I didn't mean that! I shouldn't have said it, Perkins!

+I think he's--I don't believe he's a coward!" He pressed the other's

+arm convulsively with his long fingers as though seeking to give added

+weight to the emphatic assertion and hurried away. "Come and see me,"

+he called back.

+

+Joe stared after him in bewilderment.

+

+"Strange duffer, Tidball," he reflected. "Wonder if he and Weatherby

+had a row? Sounds like it. Poor old Weatherby! I'm sorry he's gone;

+by Jove, I am sorry! And I fancy I might have prevented it if I'd got

+after Tracy sooner. Hang him, he ought to be licked!"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER X

+

+FLIGHT

+

+

+When Jack left the house he hesitated a moment at the little gate. Then

+he turned to the left and hurried to Murdoch Street and down that to

+the railroad track. He was taking the longest route to the station;

+but, since his main desire was to avoid meeting any one he knew, it

+was also the safest. His battered valise, although by no means full,

+soon grew heavy and began to bump against his legs at every stride.

+When he reached the track, what with the aggravating behavior of the

+valise and the difficulty of walking over the uneven ties, speed was no

+longer possible. He had barely reached the Washington Street crossing

+when a whistle down the track behind him brought consternation. It was

+the 9.22 train, he told himself; and he knew that if he missed that

+he would have to wait a whole hour at the station before he could get

+another--an hour which might serve to bring Anthony upon him with a

+wealth of unanswerable argument in favor of his return.

+

+So, after a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of the

+warning blast, he shifted the valise again and set out over the ties

+at a run. Once he stumbled and the bag went hurtling down the bank and

+brought up against a board fence. When he had recovered it and had

+scrambled back to the track the train was but a few hundred yards away.

+But the station was almost gained now. He retired to a hand-car siding

+while the engine and its three cars whizzed past him with much grinding

+of brakes, and then ran on in the wake of dust.

+

+There was no time to buy a ticket. When he reached the platform and the

+last car, the conductor had already swung his hand to the engineer.

+Jack pushed his valise on to the car-steps and crawled, breathless,

+after it. Then the train moved again, and a minute later Centerport was

+lost to sight. Jack, huddled upon the rear platform, saw it disappear

+with mingled emotions. Regret was prominent. He wondered at this.

+Surely, he thought, he had been miserable enough at Erskine to make the

+parting anything but regretful. And yet, even as he thought that, the

+idea of leaving the train at the next station and walking back came

+to him with strange attractiveness. Anthony would be glad; none else

+would know that he had contemplated flight; he would go back to the

+training-table, secure a place on the nine, and do great things--things

+that would make the college proud of him. And Gilberth might----

+

+But at the recollection of Gilberth the plan lost its attractiveness.

+Jack gritted his teeth and shook his fist toward where the tower of

+College Hall was still just visible above the tree-tops. Then, having

+recovered his breath, he took up his bag and passed into the car. It

+proved to be the smoker and was almost deserted. He selected a seat on

+the riverside, placed his valise beside him, and gave himself up to

+his thoughts. These were not cheerful. He wondered what his father and

+mother would say to his return. As for the latter, he could count with

+certainty upon her sympathy and support. But his father was different.

+He was a man with a stern conscience, and one singularly devoid of

+the finer sensibilities. For him the path of duty was always clearly

+defined and he trod it unswervingly, no matter what might befall. And,

+as Jack well knew, he looked for and demanded the same moral courage

+from others that he himself displayed. No, there would be no sympathy

+forthcoming from his father. Jack could almost hear him now:

+

+"You had done no wrong, my son. With a clear conscience you had nothing

+to fear. The wrong was in running away."

+

+He might, thought Jack, even insist upon his returning. But that he

+would not do. He would find work and, as soon as possible, would

+pay back to his father the money wasted upon him at Erskine. He had

+intended becoming a teacher. But now that was impossible. Perhaps he

+could get employment from Billy Cromwell. But, whatever happened, he

+would not, having once reached home, go back to Erskine!

+

+Had Jack been less busy with his thoughts he might, perchance, have

+taken notice of a passenger who sat across the car and a little to

+the rear. He was a man of about forty years, with small, clearly

+cut features, brown eyes, and carefully trimmed mustache and beard.

+His attire was notably neat. In his mouth was a cigar, in his hands

+a morning paper, and at his feet a handsome suit-case. Ever since

+Jack's advent he had been watching him over the top of his paper with

+a puzzled frown. The boy's face, seen against the white light of the

+car window, expressed every passing emotion, and the passenger across

+the aisle, who was a good reader of expressions, felt a stirring of

+sympathy at the pervading look of despondency he saw.

+

+Presently the conductor entered, and Jack remembered that he must pay

+his fare. He felt for the little roll of money that was to take him

+home, first in his vest pocket, then in his trousers. Then, while an

+expression of bewilderment came over his face, he searched hurriedly

+in every pocket he possessed. The conductor came and waited patiently.

+Jack seized his valise and began to unstrap it. Then he paused and

+glanced uneasily at the conductor.

+

+"I can't find my money," he said. "If you'll just give me a minute or

+two--" The other nodded and passed on down the car. Jack opened the

+valise and feverishly searched it. But when it was thoroughly upset

+he was forced to acknowledge with a sinking heart that the money was

+not there. He had taken it out of the trunk; he remembered doing that

+perfectly; he had meant to put it into his vest pocket. But it was not

+there.

+

+He stared blankly out of the window, still searching his clothes

+hopelessly. Well, he was not going home after all. Fate had intervened.

+Disappointed and chagrined, he counted the few coins in his trouser's

+pocket and found that while they would pay his way to the next station

+they would not serve to take him back to Centerport. He blinked his

+eyes to keep back the tears. Tears, he reflected miserably, were always

+trying to crawl out nowadays. And then--

+

+"What's wrong, Weatherby?" asked a voice over his shoulder, and Jack

+looked up with startled eyes into the face of Professor White.

+

+[Illustration: "What's wrong, Weatherby?"]

+

+For a moment his surprise kept him silent. And in that moment he saw

+in the professor's face a kindliness that he had never before noticed.

+The professor's brown eyes were plainly sympathetic and the professor's

+lips held a little reassuring smile at their corners. And Jack,

+wondering more, found his tongue.

+

+"Well, that is hard luck," said the professor when he had heard the

+story. "And you're going home, you say? How much money will it take?"

+

+"About ten dollars," answered Jack. The other shook his head.

+

+"That's not much," he replied, "but I'm sorry to say that it's more

+than I've got with me. You see, I'm only going to Hampden, three

+stations up the line, and so didn't bring much. But wouldn't it do if

+you got off at the next station and went back and got your money? Would

+the delay matter? How long leave have you got?"

+

+The conductor came back and smiled questioningly at the pair. Jack

+shook his head.

+

+"I've got to go on," he muttered.

+

+"Well, here now, I'll pay your way to Hampden, anyhow. That will give

+us time to consider things. Here you are, conductor."

+

+When the change had been made and the professor was in possession of an

+elaborate rebate slip, the conductor went off and the professor removed

+Jack's valise from the seat and sat down at the boy's side.

+

+"How long are you going to be gone?" he asked pleasantly.

+

+Jack hesitated. Then--

+

+"I'm not coming back," he answered defiantly.

+

+"What? Leaving college?"

+

+Jack nodded.

+

+"Why, how's that? What's the trouble?" questioned the professor kindly.

+"Nothing wrong at home, I hope?"

+

+"No, sir."

+

+"Then what is it?"

+

+Jack was silent, looking scowlingly out of the window at the flying

+landscape of freshly green hills and meadows with an occasional glimpse

+of the sparkling river. He would accept the other's help as far as

+Hampden, he decided; from there he would work his way home somehow;

+perhaps he could steal a ride now and then on the trains.

+

+"You don't want to tell me, I see," said Professor White. "And I

+dare say that's natural, Weatherby. You and I have had a couple

+of unpleasant conversations, and I suppose the experience doesn't

+recommend me as a confident. But you're in some sort of trouble and I

+think you'd better make a clean breast of it and let me help you if I

+can.

+

+"And while we're speaking of former encounters, Weatherby, I want to

+tell you that I made a mistake that day down at the coal wharf. I've

+got lots of faults, and one of the worst of them is an inclination to

+judge hastily. I accused you of cowardice that day, and I've regretted

+it very often since. I can understand how it might be possible for you

+to have hesitated about going into the river and yet not be guilty of

+cowardice in the strict sense. You see, I've given some thought to the

+matter, after it was a bit too late. I've been watching you since that

+day, and I think I made a mistake; I'm certain I did. And I want you to

+forgive me for the injustice I did you and for the hurt I inflicted.

+Will you?"

+

+"It doesn't matter," answered Jack drearily. "You only said what all

+the others thought. I guess it did hurt, but I don't mind now; you see,

+there's been a lot worse since then."

+

+"Ah!" said the other comprehendingly. "I understand. Don't you think

+you might tell me something about it, Weatherby?"

+

+And after a doubtful glance at the professor's face, in which he read

+only sympathy, Jack told him. He spoke bitterly, giving free rein to

+the pent-up anger and indignation of the past month; and, perhaps,

+he may be forgiven if unconsciously he exaggerated the tale of his

+troubles. When he had finished Professor White nodded gravely, and

+then, after a momentary silence, asked:

+

+"How old are you, Weatherby?"

+

+"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in July."

+

+"Well, I'm not going to tell you that the thing is trivial, nor that

+were you older it would appear less tragic. Nothing is trivial that

+influences our lives, no matter how small it looks; and it is just the

+things that happen to us when we are young and receptive that are most

+important. I said I would help you if I could, and I'm going to. But in

+order to do it I must first convince you that I am your friend, and I

+fear that's going to be difficult. And," he added, as the train slowed

+down for the second station, "what's more, I haven't much time to do

+it."

+

+"Friends," said Jack sagely, "always advise you to do things you don't

+want to."

+

+"Yes, I guess that's so," answered the professor, smiling. "And I think

+what I'm going to advise will prove me your friend."

+

+Jack watched the coming and going on the station platform for a minute,

+then, as the train began to move again, he asked:

+

+"Would you mind telling me--what it is, sir?"

+

+"No; it's this." He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke

+earnestly. "Come back, Weatherby, and have another try. Wait," he

+continued, as the other started to speak, "let me finish first. I'm

+not going to belittle your trouble; it's a big one and it's hard to

+bear. But you've borne it for a month and more. You can bear it longer,

+if you try. Make up your mind to it and you'll do it. From what I can

+see, Weatherby, you've given up the fight just on the verge of victory.

+A while back you had the whole college against you; now there is but

+one fellow actively opposed to you. From what you have told me I can

+see that Tidball believes in you, and Perkins, and King. They are all

+men of prominence and their views have weight. Hold on a little while

+longer and you'll find that the college has come around to their way

+of thinking. If you give up now you're losing a year of your life that

+you can't catch up with again if you live to be a hundred. Stick it out

+and you're a year nearer your degree. Besides, there are your parents,

+Weatherby; what are they going to think about it? Maybe they'll say

+you've done right in leaving, but down in their hearts they are going

+to be disappointed over this wasted year."

+

+Jack stared dumbly at his hands, and presently the other went on.

+

+"Come back, and I'll do everything I can to help you, my boy. Just what

+that will be or what it will amount to, I can't say at this moment; but

+what assistance I can give you may be certain of having. You won't find

+it an empty promise."

+

+He paused, and Jack looked up.

+

+"I wish I'd--wish I might have talked to you before," he said.

+

+"So do I, Weatherby; but it isn't too late now. I have a suspicion that

+you've come away without signing off. You needn't tell me whether I'm

+right or wrong. But you may rest assured that there'll be no trouble

+about it. To-morrow you and I'll go back together and try it over."

+

+"But what--where am I going to go now?" asked Jack dismally.

+

+"Why, you'll come home with me, of course," replied the professor. "No

+one need ever know but that you and I came off together. We'll have to

+take a pretty early train back in the morning, but I guess you won't

+mind that. My mother and sister will be very glad to see you, and--

+Hello, here we are! Grab your bag, Weatherby, and come along."

+

+"But--" stammered the boy.

+

+"All right; you can tell me about that when you get outside. Besides,"

+he laughed, "you've got to get off here, anyhow; your fare is only paid

+this far. Hurry up, or we'll both get left!"

+

+A moment later Jack found himself out on a sunny platform, dodging a

+baggage-truck and following his hurrying guide through the throng.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XI

+

+ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT

+

+

+The morning after Jack's departure Anthony turned in through the

+little gate at Mrs. Dorlon's and strode quickly up the short path.

+The time was but a quarter before eight. The sun was out, but was

+hidden behind a low-lying bank of mist, through which it glowed

+wanly. In the elms along the street the sparrows were chattering and

+scolding until one would have thought that every family circle was in

+the midst of domestic strife, possible because of overlate worms or

+underdone beetles. It was a tepid sort of morning; the bricks in the

+pavement were wet with the fog and the air was warm. Anthony wore his

+coat-collar turned up, not to protect his throat, but to hide the fact

+that there was no other collar beneath. In his hand he carried a can

+of condensed milk and a little paper bag of coffee. He had been upset

+by the events of the preceding day and had neglected to replenish his

+provision cupboard; hence a postprandial journey to Main Street.

+

+As he climbed the stairs and caught sight of the half-opened door of

+Jack's room, recollection of that youth returned to him and he sighed

+as he crossed the little hall and thrust his own door open. Then

+he stopped short and gave vent to an exclamation of surprise. The

+condensed milk dropped with a thud and rolled under the cot-bed. Jack,

+nodding drowsily in the rocker, opened his eyes and jumped to his feet.

+Then he grinned sheepishly.

+

+"I--I've come back," he muttered.

+

+He partly extended his hand, thinking Anthony would take it. But the

+latter, after a moment of silent surprise, only said:

+

+"Well! I'm glad to see you." He crawled awkwardly under the cot and

+recovered the milk. "Changed your mind, eh?" he asked, as he emerged.

+

+His voice was hearty enough, and he smiled behind his spectacles as

+though pleased, yet Jack felt a chill of disappointment and answered

+soberly:

+

+"Yes, I changed my mind. I came back on an early train. You weren't in

+and so I sat down to wait for you; I guess I must have come pretty near

+to falling asleep. Well, I must go to breakfast."

+

+Anthony fought for a moment against the restraint which gripped him.

+When he spoke his tones held the old warmth.

+

+"Nonsense, Jack, stay here and have some with me. I haven't any fatted

+calf to kill for you, but I can fry a couple of eggs and give you some

+good coffee, and----"

+

+"I can't drink coffee," Jack answered, "but if you really want me to

+stay, I'll be glad to. I--I'd rather not go to training-table this

+morning."

+

+"Course I want you to," answered Anthony. "Why can't you drink coffee,

+though?"

+

+"Training."

+

+"What? Why, coffee never hurt any one; best thing in the world, coffee;

+strengthening, elevating, enlarging; good for body and brain. But tell

+me all about your vacation."

+

+And while Anthony bustled about over his little stove, handling pots

+and pans with a deftness remarkable in a person usually so awkward,

+Jack recounted his experiences rather shamefacedly.

+

+"Right about the professor, wasn't I?" interrupted Anthony once.

+

+"Yes, you were. He's mighty good, Anthony. He treated me as though I

+was the President; and so did his mother and sister. I had a bully

+little room with an open fireplace in it and blue roses all over the

+walls and all sorts of easy chairs made out of rattan stuff; and the

+sun just flooded in the window this morning. My, but I wish I lived

+there all the time!"

+

+"Sounds fine," answered Anthony. "All aboard, now; draw up to the table

+and wade in. Guess you'll have to use the rocker, unless you'd rather

+have this. Here's the sugar. How about-- Pshaw, you're not going to

+drink coffee, are you? Have some water in the toothbrush mug? No? All

+right. Have an egg; that's right, just slide it off. These rolls are

+good; I sprinkle the tops with water and heat 'em up on the stove.

+Sorry I haven't more to offer you, though. Well, Jack, I'm glad you ran

+across White and came back. You'd been sorry--afterward--if you'd gone

+home; and so would I. And, by the way, what was it that set you going?

+What happened at the table yesterday morning? Your note was lacking in

+details."

+

+Jack told about Gilberth's behavior and Anthony's eyes darkened behind

+his spectacles.

+

+"Ugly brute!" he muttered. "Ought to be spanked. But-- Look here, don't

+mind him, Jack; I don't think he's going to trouble you much after

+this. Just keep out of his way."

+

+"I'll try to. If--if he was a freshman, or even a soph, I'd fight him;

+but I can't fight a senior!"

+

+"Huh! You won't have to; he's going to behave himself after this," said

+Anthony grimly.

+

+"Well, I don't know; anyhow, I'm going to stick it out now, no matter

+what happens," Jack said stoutly. "That's my last try at running away.

+If it hadn't been for forgetting my money, I guess I'd have gone. Funny

+how it happened, wasn't it? The worst of it is, I thought I'd left the

+money in my trunk, but I've looked and it isn't there; I can't find it

+anywhere. It was about all I had. I guess dad will be madder than a

+hatter when I write home for more."

+

+"That's too bad," said Anthony. "If you want a little--a dollar or two,

+you know--to go on until you hear from home, I can let you have it as

+well as not."

+

+"You're awfully good," answered Jack gratefully. "But it would be a

+nice thing for me to borrow from you, wouldn't it? Don't you think I

+know how hard up you are?"

+

+"Oh, well, you could pay it back, you know. If you'd rather, you could

+give me a mortgage on your clothes," he added, smiling.

+

+"Then, if my money didn't come, you might for-clothes," laughed Jack.

+

+"Running away from school seems to sharpen your wits," said Anthony.

+"Have another egg? Won't take a minute. Good; I like my guests to have

+appetites."

+

+"You'd have one yourself if you'd been hauled out of a nice, soft bed

+at half-past six!"

+

+"Guess I would; but I wouldn't make bad puns."

+

+Presently, while the egg was sputtering in the pan, Jack asked, with a

+trace of embarrassment:

+

+"Did you--get that watch-charm?"

+

+"Yes; much obliged," was the answer. "Guess I'd better give it back

+now. Won't need it to remember you by if you're in the same hut with

+me, eh?"

+

+"I--I'd rather you did keep it, though, and wear it, if you don't mind.

+Did you put it on your chain?"

+

+The fork fell into the pan, and Anthony fished it out with much

+muttering before he answered. Then--

+

+"Why, no, I didn't, Jack. You see----"

+

+"I know; it isn't very beautiful; just one I had."

+

+"That isn't the reason," said Anthony without turning around. "Fact is,

+I'm not wearing my watch just now."

+

+"Oh, aren't you? Why--what----"

+

+"Well, a fellow can't have money to lend and a gold watch at the same

+time. Just at present I'm a moneylender."

+

+"Oh, I see," Jack replied. But, nevertheless, he didn't look satisfied

+with the explanation, and when Anthony returned to the breakfast-table

+with the egg he had been frying the two finished the meal almost in

+silence.

+

+Thanks to the secrecy of the three persons who alone knew of Jack's

+absence from Centerport, his return to the training-table at lunch-time

+occasioned no surprise. Joe Perkins looked bewildered for a moment,

+but said nothing. King called across the board and asked Jack where

+he'd been since the day before, and Jack calmly replied that he'd been

+home with Professor White overnight. Several pairs of eyebrows went up

+incredulously, but no one voiced his doubts. Gilberth took absolutely

+no notice of Jack, and, at least in so far as the latter was concerned,

+the meal went off pleasantly. He had expected to be called to account

+by the trainer, but Simson had eyes of his own and said nothing as

+long as luncheon was in progress. When it was over he questioned the

+captain. After a moment of hesitation, Joe told the trainer the facts

+of Jack's absence as he knew them.

+

+"I think," he said, "that the best thing to do is to take no notice

+this time. Weatherby may turn out a good man for us if he can get his

+mind on his work. But if this badgering continues he won't be worth a

+continental; he's all up in the air. Maybe you can give him a good word

+now and then, 'Baldy'; the poor dub needs it all right."

+

+"Sure, I can," answered the trainer. "Give the lad a chance; why not? I

+doubt he's varsity material, cap, but he's a decent spoken lad enough."

+

+Tracy Gilberth walked back to his room after luncheon feeling very

+dissatisfied with life. He had not yet forgiven Joe for the lecture

+which the latter had delivered to him the day before. Tracy felt deeply

+wronged. He really believed that when he had publicly affronted Jack

+Weatherby that he had been performing a service to the college; that

+it was his duty to protest against the presence at the university of a

+fellow who had shown himself to be a coward. Tracy had a rather good

+opinion of himself and of his importance, and had never doubted that,

+since others had failed to act in the matter, it was his place to step

+to the front. The wigging he had received from Joe had surprised as

+well as disgruntled him, and his vanity still smarted.

+

+And what increased his annoyance was the fact that he had been "called

+down" by the one fellow of all whom Tracy really held in affection,

+and who, or so Tracy argued, should have been the very last to oppose

+him. Never before had the two, whose friendship dated back from their

+sophomore year, come so near to quarreling as they had yesterday.

+Differences of opinion they frequently had, but Tracy always retired

+from whatever position he held at the first sign of displeasure on the

+part of the other. But yesterday Tracy's backdown had been incomplete;

+to-day he was not decided whether to do as Joe wanted him to and leave

+the obnoxious Weatherby strictly alone or to show his resentment by

+continuing his righteous persecution of that youth with some more than

+usually severe affront. In fact, Tracy hovered on the verge of open

+mutiny when, after climbing the first flight of stairs in Grace Hall,

+he turned to the left down the broad corridor and kicked open the

+unlatched door of his study.

+

+"Hello!" he exclaimed.

+

+"Hello!" was the response from the depths of a big leather armchair,

+and Anthony, who had been reclining with widely stretched legs

+and reading a magazine, placed the latter back on the mahogany

+writing-table and calmly faced his host. The two knew each other well

+enough to nod in passing, but never before had Anthony paid Tracy a

+visit, and the latter's evident surprise was natural enough.

+

+"Found your door open," explained Anthony, "so I came in and waited.

+Wanted to see you a minute or two, Gilberth."

+

+"That's all right; glad you made yourself comfortable," answered the

+other.

+

+"Nice rooms you've got," continued the visitor.

+

+"Oh, they do well enough," Tracy replied carelessly.

+

+As a matter of fact they were the handsomest in college, and he knew

+it and was proud of it. The study was furnished throughout in mahogany

+upholstered in light-green leather, a combination of colors at first

+glance a trifle disconcerting, but which, when viewed in connection

+with the walls and draperies, was quite harmonious. The walls were

+covered to the height of five feet with denim of dark green. Above

+this a mahogany plate-rail ran about the apartment and held a few old

+pewter platters and tankards, some good pieces of luster-ware and a

+half-dozen bowls and pitchers of Japanese glaze. Above the shelf,

+buckram of a dull shade of mahogany red continued to the ceiling, where

+it gave way to cartridge-paper of a still lighter shade. The draperies

+at doors and windows were of the prevailing tones. The effect of the

+whole was one of cheerful dignity. The room was not overcrowded with

+furniture and the walls held a few pictures, and those of the best.

+There was a refreshing absence of small photographs and knickknacks.

+Tracy was proud of his taste in the matter of decoration and furnishing

+and proud of the result as here shown. Anthony liked the room without

+understanding it. Perhaps the little whimsical smile that curved his

+lips was summoned by a mental comparison of the present apartment and

+his own chamber with its cracked and stained whitewashed walls and

+povern fittings.

+

+"You wanted to see me, you said?" prompted Tracy.

+

+"Yes," answered the visitor. "Maybe it will simplify matters if I start

+out by telling you that Jack Weatherby's a particular friend of mine."

+

+"Oh," said Tracy. "Well?"

+

+"Well, don't you think you've bothered him enough, Gilberth?"

+

+"Look here, Tidball, I don't like your tone," said Tracy with asperity.

+

+"Can't help it," answered Anthony. "I don't like the way you've been

+hazing Weatherby. Now we know each other's grievance."

+

+"What I've done to Weatherby doesn't concern you," said Tracy hotly.

+"And I'm not to be dictated to. The fellow's a coward and a bounder."

+

+"Don't know what bounder is," answered the other dryly. "Doesn't sound

+nice, though. Suppose we stop calling names? I might lose my temper

+and call you something, and you mightn't like it, either. But I didn't

+come up here to quarrel with you; don't like to quarrel with a man in

+his room; doesn't seem polite, does it? What I came to say is this,

+Gilberth: leave Weatherby alone or you'll have me to deal with."

+

+"Is that a threat?"

+

+"No, I guess not; just a statement of fact."

+

+"Do you think I'm afraid of you?" demanded Tracy angrily.

+

+"Guess not; keep on tormenting Weatherby and I'll know you're not."

+

+"Now, look here, Tidball, if you want a row, you can have it right off.

+You don't need to wait and see what happens to your precious friend.

+I'll fight you any time you like. Do you want a fight?"

+

+"No, not particularly," answered Anthony, with his most exasperating

+drawl. "Never fought any one in my life. Wouldn't know how to go about

+it, I guess. Even----"

+

+"Well, you'll know all about it mighty soon if you don't get out of

+here!"

+

+"Don't think I shall. Haven't any intention of fighting."

+

+"Haven't you, indeed? Well, what, I'd like to know, are you hinting at?"

+

+"Not hinting at all. You leave Weatherby alone or I'll catch you in the

+yard and wallop you with a trunk-strap; but," he added grimly, "there

+won't be any fighting."

+

+He drew his long length out of the chair and took up his hat. Tracy,

+pale with anger, eyed him silently a moment. Then he leaped forward and

+sent him spinning back against the chair with a blow on the shoulder.

+The next moment he felt himself lifted bodily from his feet, turned

+head over heels, and deposited in that inglorious position on the broad

+leather couch. When things stopped revolving he saw Tidball's calm face

+bending over him and felt his wrists held tightly together by fingers

+that grasped them like steel bands. He struggled violently until his

+opponent placed a bony knee on his chest. Then he subsided.

+

+"Now keep still and listen to me," said Tidball in quiet, undisturbed

+tones. "I'm a peaceable fellow, and don't fight. But if you don't

+remember what I've told you, I'm going to grab you just like this some

+day--and it'll be when there are plenty of men looking on, too--and I'm

+going to spank you with a trunk-strap. If you don't believe me," he

+added with a slight grin, "I'll show you the strap!"

+

+"I'll--I'll kill----"

+

+"No, you won't do a thing," the other interrupted sternly. "You'll stay

+just where you are and behave yourself. If you don't, I'll lock you up

+in your bedroom; and that's a liberty I don't want to take."

+

+He released Tracy and stepped back. Tracy leaped to his feet, but

+something in the look of the eyes behind the steel-bowed spectacles

+persuaded him to keep his distance. Anthony picked up his hat from the

+floor, dusted it tenderly with his elbow, and walked to the door.

+

+"Sorry there was any trouble, Gilberth," he said soberly. "Maybe I

+lost my temper; it's a mean one sometimes. Think over what I said." He

+closed the door noiselessly behind him, and Tracy, shaking and choking

+with wrath, groaned futilely.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XII

+

+A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER

+

+

+Jack sat on the players' bench, chin in hands, elbows on knees, and

+watched Centerport High School go down in defeat. It was the first

+game of the season for the varsity, and, judged by high standards,

+it wasn't anything to be proud of. At the end of the sixth inning

+the score was 9--0 in Erskine's favor, and not one of the nine runs

+had been earned. The error column on the score-sheet was so filled

+with little round dots that, from where Jack sat, it looked as though

+some one had sprinkled it with pepper. If, so far, there had been any

+encouraging features they were undoubtedly Joe Perkins's catching of

+Gilberth's erratic curves and Knox's work at shortstop. The outfield

+had conscientiously muffed every fly that had come its way, and only

+the quick recovery of the ball had, on several occasions, prevented

+High School from scoring.

+

+Joe Perkins looked disgusted whenever he walked to the bench, and the

+expression on the countenance of Hanson, the head coach, was one of

+bewilderment. "It's simply wonderful!" Jack heard him confide to Joe.

+"I don't see how they do it. I can understand how they can muff every

+other ball, say; but the whole-souled manner in which they let every

+one slide through their fingers is marvelous!" And Joe had smiled

+weakly and turned away.

+

+When the men trotted out for the beginning of the seventh, Jack slid

+along the bench to where Patterson, the team's manager, was scowling

+over the score-book. Jack had never spoken to Patterson, and a week ago

+he would have hesitated a long while before risking a snub by doing

+so. But since his return from his "visit" with Professor White the

+treatment he had received from the other members of the team had been

+so decent that he was ceasing to look upon himself as a Pariah and

+was regaining some degree of assurance. He studied the book over the

+manager's shoulder a moment. Then he asked:

+

+"Pretty poor, isn't it? Do you think Perkins will put any more subs in?"

+

+Patterson glanced around with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. But

+his answer was friendly enough:

+

+"I don't know what he'll do. But if the subs can play any better than

+the men he's got in there he'd better give 'em a chance. Where do you

+play?"

+

+"Almost anywhere, I guess. They've had me at left-field, right-field,

+and second base. I guess I'll be in the outfield if I get in at all."

+

+"You'd better go out there and help Northup," said the manager, as he

+credited Motter, at first base, with his third error. "I don't suppose

+it matters much whether High School scores or not; only I would like to

+see Erskine have a clean record this year. And to get scored on in the

+first game looks pretty rotten. Who made that assist?"

+

+"Stiles. Can't Gilberth pitch better than he's doing to-day?"

+

+"Of course he can. He's all right when he tries; he evidently thinks

+this game isn't worth while. But I'll wager that Hanson will have

+something to say to him afterward. Side's out. Stiles at bat!"

+

+Erskine managed to find High School's pitcher to good effect in the

+last of the seventh and piled up four more runs, two of them fairly

+earned. When Erskine trotted into the field again Hanson and Perkins

+had materially altered her batting list. King, who had been playing

+in left-field, went into the pitcher's box, and Jack was sent out to

+left-field. Griffin succeeded Joe as catcher, Mears took Motter's place

+at first, and Smith went in at shortstop.

+

+Jack watched events from his position over near the rail fence and was

+never once disturbed; for King retired the opposing batsmen in one,

+two, three order, and the sides again changed places. Jack didn't have

+a chance to show what he could do with the stick, for High School,

+following Erskine's lead, put a new man into the box, and the new man

+puzzled the batsmen so that only one reached first, and was left there

+when Billings, third-baseman, popped a short fly into the hands of High

+School's shortstop. Jack trotted back to the rail fence very disgusted.

+

+It was the last inning. The sun was getting low and the chill of early

+evening caused Jack to swing his arms and prance around to keep the

+blood circulating. Over by the bench he could see them packing the bats

+away, and a little stream of spectators was filling around behind the

+back fence toward the gate. High School had reached the tail-end of

+her batting list again, and, to all appearances, the game was as good

+as finished. But last innings can't always be depended upon to behave

+as expected. The present one proved this. High School's first man at

+bat heroically tried to smash a long fly into outfield and, all by

+good luck, bunted the ball into the dust at his feet. After a moment

+of bewilderment, he put out for first and reached it at the same time

+as the ball. High School's noisy supporters took new courage and awoke

+the echoes with their fantastic war-whoop. King looked bothered for an

+instant, and in that instant struck the next batsman on the elbow. The

+latter, rubbing the bruise and grinning joyfully, trotted to first and

+the man ahead took second.

+

+"Huh," muttered Jack, rubbing his chilled hands together, "something

+doing, after all."

+

+But King settled down then, and, after three attempts to catch the High

+School runner napping at second base, struck out the next man very

+nicely. The succeeding one, finding a straight ball, bunted it toward

+first, and, while he was tagged out by King, advanced the runners. High

+School's supporters, gathered into a little bunch on the stand, waved

+their flags and ribbons, and shouted frantically. For surely, with men

+on third and second and their best batter selecting his stick, a run

+was not unlikely. Hanson shouted a command and King, repeating it,

+motioned the fielders in. Jack obeyed, doubtingly, for he had watched

+the present player and believed him capable of hitting hard. And so,

+although he made pretense of shortening field, he remained pretty much

+where he had been. And a moment later he was heartily glad of it.

+

+For the High School batsman, a tall, lanky, but very determined-looking

+youth, found King's first delivery and raced for first. Along the

+base-lines the coaches were shouting unintelligible things and

+flourishing their caps. The runners on third and second were running

+home. In the outfield Bissell, center-fielder, was speeding back,

+cutting over into Jack's territory as he went. Jack, too, was going up

+the field, yet cautiously, for the shadows were gathering and it was

+hard to tell where the little black speck up there against the purple

+sky was going to fall. Yet when, with a final glance over his shoulder,

+he took up his position, and heard Bissell, panting from his run, cry:

+"All yours, Weatherby!" he never doubted that he would catch it. To

+Jack a fly was merely a baseball that required catching; and he was

+there to catch it. So he took a step or two forward, put up his hands,

+and pulled it down. Then he threw it to second-baseman and trotted in.

+

+When he reached the plate the applause had died away and the remainder

+of the audience was hurrying off the field. The players were finding

+sweaters and, having thrown them over their shoulders, were hurrying

+across to the locker-house. Jack, searching for his own, heard Hanson's

+voice behind him:

+

+"Well, Joe, we've got one man who can catch a ball, eh?"

+

+Jack knew that he wasn't supposed to hear that remark, and so he took

+his time at pulling his white sweater out of the pile. When he turned,

+the head coach and captain were walking away. Jack followed, feeling

+very thankful that he had not missed his one chance of the game. As he

+entered the door he almost ran against the coach. Hanson smiled into

+his face as he stepped aside.

+

+"That was a very fair catch, Weatherby," he said.

+

+And a moment later, when, wrapped only in a big bath-towel, he was

+hurrying to the shower-room, "Baldy" Simson clapped him on the back

+with a big hand.

+

+"That's the lad now," he cried heartily, adding then his invariable

+caution: "Easy with the hot water, and don't go to sleep!"

+

+At dinner-table Jack thought the other fellows looked at him with

+something like respect. And all, he reflected, because he had caught a

+ball he couldn't help catching!

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIII

+

+JOE IS PESSIMISTIC

+

+

+"Have you seen the editorial in the Purple?" asked King.

+

+Joe Perkins, who had pushed his book away as the other entered his

+study, swung around in his chair and shook his head.

+

+"About the mass-meeting?" he asked. "No, I haven't seen the paper yet.

+What does it say?"

+

+Gregory King leaned over the table until the inky-smelling sheets of

+the college weekly were under the green glass shade of the student-lamp.

+

+"Listen, then, benighted one! 'It is to be hoped that every student who

+can possibly do so will attend the mass-meeting to be held on Wednesday

+evening next in Grace Hall for the purpose of raising money for the

+expenses of the University baseball team. A victory over Robinson this

+spring decisive enough to obliterate----'"

+

+"Hear! hear!" cried Joe.

+

+"Yes, elegant word, isn't it?" grinned the other. "'To obliterate the

+stigma of last year's defeat is what every friend of the college hopes

+for and expects. But unless enough money is placed at the disposal

+of the management, to meet the expenses of the team, such a victory

+can not be secured. The nine has never been self-supporting and every

+spring it has started in with a deficit of from fifty to a hundred and

+fifty dollars, which has been paid by the Athletic Committee from the

+general fund. Heretofore the Committee has, besides making good the

+deficit, paid over to the baseball management sufficient money to carry

+the team through the first half of the season. This spring, however,

+the Committee is unable to do this. The football receipts last fall

+were scarcely more than half as large as usual, while the expenses were

+much greater. As a result, the sum at the disposal of the baseball

+team, the track team, and the crew is extremely small, and the former

+has received as its share the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars

+only--a sum not nearly sufficient to carry it through the first half of

+the season.

+

+"'It becomes necessary, therefore, to secure funds from some other

+source. Subscriptions have been invited from the alumni, but the result

+of this step is uncertain. A popular subscription is necessary and will

+be asked at the meeting on Wednesday. The amount required to insure

+the success of the nine is not large, and it is the duty of the student

+body to see that it is raised before the meeting is adjourned. Manager

+Patterson will make a statement of the association's condition, and

+there will be addresses by Dean Levatt, Professor Nast, Coach Hanson,

+Captain Perkins, A. Z. Tidball, '04, and others. It is to be hoped that

+the meeting will be attended by every member of the university.'"

+

+"Not bad," commented Joe. "But whether Patterson has made a mistake by

+stating frankly that the meeting is called to secure money remains to

+be seen."

+

+"What else could he say? The fellows aren't going to be gulled into

+thinking that they're invited to a mass-meeting to play ping-pong!"

+

+"I know, but there are lots of fellows who won't come if they know

+they're to be asked to dive into their pockets."

+

+"Then let them stay away," answered King forcibly. "Any chap that isn't

+willing to give a dollar or two to beat Robinson isn't worth bothering

+with!"

+

+"I dare say; but we've got to have a lot of money, and if every fellow

+of that sort stays away--" He shook his head doubtfully.

+

+"Oh, get out! You're pessimistic this evening. Cheer up; the tide's

+coming in! We'll get all the money we need, and lots more besides.

+You'll see."

+

+"Hope so. Fact is, Greg, I'm a bit down in the mouth over the showing

+we made Saturday. If we don't do better Wednesday I sha'n't blame the

+fellows if they refuse to pony up for us. A nine that plays ball like a

+lot of girls doesn't deserve support."

+

+"Well, we were pretty rotten Saturday, Joe, and that's the truth. But

+we'll stand by you better next time. We'll give a good exhibition of

+union-made, hand-sewn baseball on Wednesday that'll tickle the college

+to death. By the way, there's a long fairy tale from Collegetown here

+in the Purple about Robinson's team. To read it you'd think they

+expected to walk all over us and everybody else. They're talking about

+beating Artmouth next week! How's that for immortal cheek?"

+

+"Oh, they've got a good nine, Greg, and they know it. And you and I

+know it. We might as well face it, too."

+

+"Well, what if they have? Great Scott, man, haven't they had good nines

+lots of times before and been beaten out of their boots? What do we

+care for their old Voses and Condits and 'Hard-hitting Hopkinses'?

+Maybe we've got a good battery ourselves, and a man or two who can slug

+the ball!"

+

+"Maybe we have," answered Joe dryly, "but you couldn't just name them,

+could you?"

+

+"Certainly I can name them! You're just as good a catcher as that

+Condit wonder of theirs. And Gilberth can pitch all around Vose, when

+he wants to. And----"

+

+"Yes, when he wants to," said Joe significantly.

+

+"Well, he will want to when it comes to Robinson," said King.

+

+"Perhaps. And how about the hard sluggers?"

+

+"Oh, well, there's Motter, and Billings, and----"

+

+"Yourself; you're a better batsman than either of them, Greg. But

+there's no use in running down Hopkins; he's a wonder at the bat; and

+we've got to get busy and turn out a few fellows like him. Saturday

+there wasn't more than three decent hits made in the whole idiotic

+game."

+

+"My cheerless friend, please forget Saturday," begged King. "It wasn't

+nice, I know, but it showed up the weak spots, and that's something to

+be thankful for."

+

+"Not when there's nothing but spots," lamented Joe.

+

+"Besides, we kept them from scoring; and for a while it looked as

+though we couldn't."

+

+"And even that was just a piece of good luck."

+

+"Good luck? Why, it didn't seem so to me. I never saw a fielder look

+more certain of making a catch than Weatherby did. And the way he

+pulled down that ball was mighty pretty, too."

+

+"I don't mean that it was luck for him; I mean that it was just by luck

+that I put him in your place when you went into the box; I almost sent

+Lowe out there. If I had it's dollars to cents he wouldn't have judged

+that ball so as to have caught it."

+

+"Well, all's well that ends well, old chap. Cheer up! By the way, I was

+mighty glad Weatherby made that catch and kept our slate clean; for his

+sake, I mean. I've noticed that yesterday and to-day the fellows at the

+table have been very decent to him. I guess he rather made a hit with

+them Saturday."

+

+"I'm glad of that," Joe responded heartily. "To tell the truth, Greg,

+Weatherby's been bothering me a good deal; Hanson and I picked him

+out for a good man, and I think he is, but all this badgering by the

+fellows has made him pretty near worthless. I hope to goodness it's

+done with now."

+

+"It's been Tracy more than any one else," said King. "He's rather

+overdone it, I think."

+

+"I should say so! The trouble with Tracy is that he gets it into his

+thick head that he's a sort of public conscience, and you can't get it

+out. I don't think he really intends to be mean; I've known him to do

+several mighty decent things--kind-hearted, you know."

+

+"Seems as though his sense of proportion was out of gear; and you can't

+faze him, either."

+

+"Well, I don't know; sometimes I manage to jar him a bit. I got at him

+last week and asked him to go easy on Weatherby, and so far he's done

+it. I put it to him on the score of justice and that sort of thing,

+you know. I've noticed, by the way, that you've been kind of taking

+Weatherby's part lately. Do you like him?"

+

+"I don't know whether I do or don't," answered King slowly. "I think

+maybe I could like him very well if he'd give me a chance, but the

+trouble is he won't let you get near him. He's the most independent,

+stand-offish sort of chap ever."

+

+"I know. It's rather against him, that kind of thing. But I fancy,

+Greg, that that manner of his is sort of defensive; I don't believe

+he's really so independent as he is--well, shy. He thinks fellows don't

+care to know him and so puts on that let-me-alone air just to hide the

+fact that he's downhearted."

+

+"Do you? Well, maybe you're right. It never occurred to me."

+

+"Yes; and something Professor White said the other day bears me out.

+He came up to see me about Weatherby. It seems he's taken rather a

+shine to him, and had him home with him overnight last week. He says

+that Weatherby's frightfully cut up over the way the fellows have been

+treating him; thinks no one wants to have anything to do with him on

+account of that affair down at the river, you know, and is just about

+ready to throw up the sponge and light out. In fact--" Joe stopped,

+remembering that Anthony had requested him not to talk of Jack's

+flight. "Anyhow, it seems rather a shame, don't you think? The chap's

+a nice-looking, gentlemanly sort, and apparently has lots of pluck, in

+spite of what happened at the wharf that day."

+

+"That's what I think. I believe the truth of that business is that

+Weatherby doesn't know how to swim, Joe."

+

+"Really? Did he ever say so?"

+

+"Oh, thunder, no! He never's talked about it to me; I'd be scared to

+death to ask him. But that seems a reasonable sort of explanation,

+doesn't it?"

+

+"Yes, it does. And it's funny that it never occurred to me. Somehow,

+you take it for granted here that every fellow knows how to swim; we're

+such a lot of water-rats, you know. I believe you've hit it, Greg. But

+if that's the case, why didn't he out and say so?"

+

+"Well, I don't know. Maybe we didn't give him a chance at first, and

+then, when he did have a show, maybe he got spunky and wouldn't. It's

+the sort of thing I could understand his doing."

+

+"Yes, it is. Well, anyhow, he's cut up more rumpus and made more worry

+than any freshie I ever knew. And I hope to goodness it's over. I want

+him to play ball. Going? Don't forget to drum up the meeting. Bring a

+crowd with you and start the enthusiasm early in the game. And, by the

+way, if you ever have a chance, you might just try and find out about

+Weatherby; whether he can swim, you know. So long, Greg."

+

+Jack would have been distinctly surprised had he known that he was the

+subject of so much discussion. He was beginning to congratulate himself

+that the men with whom he associated seemed to have forgotten the

+unpleasant incident, and were, in a manner, making his acquaintance all

+over again. There was no denying the fact that since his performance

+of Saturday on the diamond the fellows at the training-table had shown

+themselves very friendly toward him. Of old he had usually eaten his

+meals in silence, save for an occasional word with Joe or King or

+the trainer. Nowadays the fellows greeted him as one of themselves,

+included him in their conversation, and even asked his opinion

+sometimes. And unconsciously he was bidding for their friendship. He

+no longer answered all inquiries with monosyllables, but forgot his

+r�le of injured innocence and entered into the talk with sprightliness

+and interest. Once he had even made a joke. It was a good joke, but its

+effect was embarrassing. Every one was so surprised that for a full

+quarter of a minute not a sound greeted it. Then the table broke into

+laughter. But by that time Jack was all self-consciousness once more,

+and for the rest of the meal ate in silence.

+

+But his shyness wore off again, and by the middle of the week his

+companions had adopted a way of listening when he spoke as though what

+he had to say was worth hearing. The effect of this was like a tonic to

+Jack's vanity. He began to recover his naturally good spirits and the

+change in him was noticeable. Anthony saw and was delighted.

+

+The friendship between him and the younger boy had worked back into its

+old lines. Sometimes, more and more infrequently as time passed, Jack

+thought he could detect a difference in Anthony's attitude toward him;

+fancied that the other was reserved in manner. But the difference, if

+difference there was, was slight and did not seriously impair Jack's

+enjoyment of Anthony's friendship.

+

+Anthony himself in those days was not aware that he showed at times

+any of the doubts that assailed him. He did not mean to. He had argued

+with himself over the matter of the lost watch and had at length

+practically convinced himself that, despite all evidences against his

+friend, Jack was not guilty of theft. It is probable that even had

+Anthony detected Jack in the act of stealing he would still have kept

+much of his liking for the boy, even while detesting his offense.

+Anthony was big enough morally to view wrong-doing with pity as well

+as disfavor, and his affection for Jack--a big-hearted, generous

+affection--would have weighed in the boy's favor.

+

+But Anthony had made up his mind to believe in the other's innocence,

+and believe he did. Sometimes the doubts would creep back despite him,

+and it was at such times that Jack believed he detected a difference

+in Anthony's manner toward him. Meanwhile, Anthony had purchased a

+wonderful alarm-clock for the sum of eighty-five cents; wonderful for

+the reason that it gained an hour each day as long as it stood on its

+feet, and lost twenty minutes each day if laid comfortably on its back.

+Anthony corrected it every evening by Jack's watch, and persevered in

+his efforts to lead it back into a life of veracity and usefulness.

+

+"There's some position," he declared, "in which that thing will keep

+exact time. 'Tisn't on its feet, and 'tisn't on its back; it's

+somewhere between. Patience and study will find the solution."

+

+So he propped it at various angles with his books, and even laid it

+on its head, but whether the numerals XII pointed toward the floor,

+the ceiling, or the dormer-window the result was always surprising

+and never satisfactory. And finally, after he had once awakened and

+prepared his breakfast before discovering that the alarm had gone off

+at five instead of half-past six, he gave up the struggle, settled the

+timepiece firmly on its little legs, and accustomed himself to being

+always one hour ahead of the rest of the world.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIV

+

+THE MASS-MEETING

+

+

+On the Wednesday for which the mass-meeting was called Jack returned

+to the house at quarter after five, and, as was his custom, stopped

+in at Anthony's room to spend half an hour before dinner. Anthony

+had improvised a window-seat out of a packing-case, covering it with

+an old red table-cloth and installing upon it his one cushion, a not

+over-soft and very flamboyant creation in purple and white. When Jack

+entered he found Anthony perched thereon before the open casement. The

+seat was not very long and so the occupant was obliged to either let

+his legs hang over the edge or fold them up beneath him. At present he

+had adopted the latter tactics, and a ludicrous figure he presented.

+Jack subsided on to the edge of the bed and giggled with delight until

+Anthony tossed the book he was studying at his head.

+

+"What are you crying about?" he demanded.

+

+"I'm not cr--crying," gurgled Jack. "I'm la--laughing at you."

+

+"What's the matter with me?"

+

+"You look so--so funny!"

+

+"Do I?" Anthony grinned and unfolded himself. "I was thinking a while

+ago that I was like a pair of scissors I saw once. The blades tucked

+back against the handles. How'd the game come out?"

+

+"Pretty well; seven to nothing. Millport came pretty near getting a

+run in the fourth, but after that she didn't have a ghost of a show.

+I didn't, either. I didn't get in for a minute; just sat on that old

+bench and looked on and nearly froze to death."

+

+"Too bad," sympathized Anthony.

+

+"Wasn't it? However, I don't care very much. Hanson sat with me a while

+and we had a long talk. He knows a whole lot about baseball; stuff I

+never thought of; scientific part of the game, you know."

+

+"Hanged if I do!" answered Anthony. "I don't know a baseball from a

+longstop."

+

+"A what?" gasped Jack.

+

+"Longstop; isn't that it?"

+

+"Shortstop, you mean."

+

+"Well, knew it was some kind of a stop. Might as well call it one thing

+as the other, I guess."

+

+"Why don't you come out and see a game some day?"

+

+"Going to some afternoon, when I've nothing to do."

+

+"Huh! I guess you'll never come, then. You're always grinding."

+

+"Oh, I'll take a vacation some Saturday and go and watch you play."

+

+"Don't know whether you will or not," said Jack dolefully. "King played

+in left-field all the game to-day. Pretty nearly every sub except me

+went in. I wish they'd give me a place to try for and let me see if

+I can't make it. I hope, though, they don't put me out in the field.

+Perkins told me yesterday that there's no use in my trying for pitcher

+this year, and I guess he's right. Gilberth played a great game to-day;

+struck seven men out and gave only two bases."

+

+"How are you and he getting on nowadays?" Anthony asked.

+

+"All right. He never has anything to say to me, and I let him alone."

+

+"Guess he won't trouble you any more," said Anthony.

+

+"Perhaps not. Sometimes, though, I think he's saving up for something

+particularly unpleasant. I don't care, though. He can go hang."

+

+Anthony closed the window, drew down the stained green shade, and

+lighted the gas-stove. Jack lay back on the bed for a time and watched

+the dinner preparations in silence.

+

+"What's the _pi�ce de r�sistance_ to-night?" he finally asked, as there

+came a sputtering from the pan.

+

+"Hamburger steak with onions," answered Anthony.

+

+"Ugh!"

+

+"Don't you like it?" asked his host in surprise.

+

+"Not a bit; and I don't like the beastly smell, either. So I'm going

+home." He stretched his arms luxuriously and sat up. Then, "Did you

+ever wish you were rich, Anthony?" he asked.

+

+Anthony paused a moment with fork outstretched, and looked thoughtfully

+across the room. Finally, he shook his head.

+

+"No, I don't believe I ever did. What's the use?"

+

+"No use, I suppose. But I have, often. I wish so now. Do you know what

+I'd do if I had fifty thousand dollars?"

+

+"No; but something silly, I guess," answered the other, prodding the

+steak till it sizzled.

+

+"Well, I'd throw that foolish, lying clock out of the window and get

+your watch back. Then I'd take you to--to--Boston, I guess, and buy

+you a ripping good dinner for once in your life. We'd have quail and

+asparagus, and-- Do you like chocolate �clairs?"

+

+"Don't know; never ate any. What are they like?"

+

+"Well, we'd have them, anyway. Wish I had one now. And-- But I'm

+getting hungry, myself."

+

+"Better stay and have some Hamburger and onions," advised Anthony, with

+a smile. But Jack fled toward the door, ostentatiously holding his nose.

+

+At half past seven they set out for the mass-meeting together. When

+they had crossed the Common and had entered the yard they found

+themselves in one of a number of little eddies of laughing, chattering

+fellows that flowed across the campus and merged in front of Grace Hall

+into a stream that filled the doorway and staircase from side to side.

+

+"Going to have a full house," observed Anthony.

+

+At the door of the meeting-room they ran into Joe Perkins. He grabbed

+Anthony and sent him, under charge of Patterson, the manager, to a seat

+on the platform. Then he put a detaining hand on Jack's arm.

+

+"Cheer like everything, Weatherby!" he whispered.

+

+Then a six-foot sophomore, leading a flying wedge consisting of a

+handful of his classmates, bucked Jack between the shoulders and he

+went rushing up the aisle, tossing the crowd to either side, until

+he managed to avoid the men behind by slipping into a vacant seat.

+The big sophomore banged him on the shoulder as he charged on. "Bully

+interference!" he cried. Followed by his companions, he leaped over the

+intervening row of occupied seats and subsided in a heap among a little

+throng of delighted friends. "Down here!" he yelled. Some one imitated

+a referee's whistle and a falsetto voice called: "Third down and a yard

+to gain!"

+

+Jack found himself seated next to a group of second-nine men. The

+little freshman Clover was his immediate neighbor, and beyond that

+youth sat Showell, the fellow whom Jack had fooled with his pitching on

+that first day of outdoor practise. They had met but seldom since then,

+but Showell had never missed an opportunity to annoy Jack, if possible,

+or, failing that, to show his dislike. His annoyances usually took the

+form of allusions to the incident at the river, plain enough, yet so

+petty that Jack never regarded them as worth noticing. Clover greeted

+Jack with evident pleasure. The latter returned his greeting and then

+nodded to the fellows farther along. Only Showell failed to respond.

+Turning to the man on the other side of him he asked:

+

+"Been down to the river lately?"

+

+"Oh, cut it out," growled his neighbor, scowling at him.

+

+"Cut what out?" asked Showell, pretending great bewilderment. "The

+river?"

+

+"Let him alone, can't you?" whispered the other.

+

+"If you can't, take your old jokes somewhere else," advised Clover.

+Jack had not missed any of it, and for the first time Showell's

+pleasantries aroused his anger.

+

+"What's the matter with you dubs?" Showell asked, grinning. "Can't I

+talk about the river? All right, then, I'll talk about the weather.

+Nice, dry evening, isn't it? Any of you fellows get your feet wet?"

+

+Jack touched Clover on the shoulder. "Do you mind changing seats with

+me?" he asked. Clover looked doubtful a moment; then he got up and Jack

+slipped along into his place. Showell watched the proceedings with

+surprise, and when he found Jack beside him turned his gaze uneasily

+ahead and for the rest of the evening attempted to look unconscious of

+the other's presence. But, what with the grins and whispering of his

+friends, it is doubtful if he enjoyed himself.

+

+The senior president made his little speech and introduced the dean.

+The latter, who never was much of an orator, said just what everybody

+knew he would say, and was succeeded by Patterson, the manager.

+Patterson explained the needs of the Baseball Association, and

+Professor Nast, chairman of the Athletic Committee, followed and urged

+the students to come to the support of the team. Neither his remarks

+nor Patterson's awakened any enthusiasm, and the cheers which followed

+were plainly to order. Some one at the rear of the hall started a

+football song and one by one the audience took up the refrain. Perkins,

+who had stepped to the front of the platform, paused and glanced

+inquiringly at the head coach. The latter shook his head and Joe turned

+away again.

+

+"Let them sing," whispered Hanson. "It'll warm them up."

+

+But as soon as it was discovered that there was no opposition the

+singing died away. King was on his feet then, calling for cheers for

+Captain Perkins. They were given loudly enough, but lacked spontaneity.

+Joe's speech was short, but had the right ring, and several allusions

+to past successes of the nine and future victories awakened applause.

+But when he had taken his seat again and the cheering, in spite of

+the efforts of King and Bissell and others of the team, had ceased,

+it was evident that the meeting was bound to be a flat failure unless

+something was done to wake it up.

+

+Hanson, who was down as the next speaker, called Joe to him, and for a

+minute they whispered together. Then Joe crossed the stage and spoke to

+Anthony. At the back of the room there was a perceptible impatience;

+several fellows had already tiptoed out, and there was much scraping of

+feet. Joe heard it and held up his hand. Then Anthony lifted himself

+up out of the ridiculously small chair in which he had been seated and

+moved awkwardly to the front of the platform. Instantly there was the

+sound of clapping, succeeded by the cry of "A--a--ay, Tidball!" Anthony

+settled his spectacles on his nose and thrust his big hands into his

+trouser's pockets.

+

+"Good old Tidball!" cried some one; the remark summoned laughter and

+clapping; men on their feet and edging toward the door paused and

+turned back; those who had kept their seats settled themselves more

+comfortably and looked expectant. The senior class president jumped to

+his feet and called for a cheer, and the response was encouragingly

+hearty. Joe threw a satisfied glance at Hanson and the latter nodded.

+The tumult died down and Anthony, who had been facing the gathering

+with calm and serious countenance, began to speak.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XV

+

+ANTHONY ON BASEBALL

+

+

+"Well," commenced Anthony, in his even, deliberate drawl, "you had your

+chance to get out, and didn't take it. I guess you're in for it. I've

+been requested to speak to you about baseball. I told Captain Perkins

+that I didn't know a baseball from a frozen turnip, but he said that

+made it all the better; that if I didn't know what I was talking about

+you would realize that I was absolutely unprejudiced and my words would

+carry more weight. I said, 'How are you going to get the fellows to

+listen to me?' He said, 'We'll lock the doors.' I guess they're locked."

+

+Half his audience turned to look, and the rest laughed.

+

+"Anyhow," Anthony continued, "he kept his part of the agreement, and

+so I'll have to keep mine. I've said frankly that I know nothing about

+baseball, and I hope that you will all pardon any mistakes I may

+make in discussing the subject. I never saw but one game, and after

+it was over I knew less about it than I did before. A fellow I knew

+played--well, I don't know just what he did play; most of the time he

+danced around a bag of salt or something that some one had left out on

+the grass. There were three of those bags, and his was the one on the

+southeast corner. When the game was over he asked me how I liked it. I

+said, 'It looks to me like a good game for a lunatic asylum.' He said

+I showed ignorance; that it was the best game in the world, and just

+full up and slopping over with science. I didn't argue with him. But

+I've always thought that if I had to play baseball I'd choose to be the

+fellow that wears a black alpaca coat and does the talking. Seems to me

+he's the only one that remains sane. I asked my friend if he was the

+keeper; he said no, he was the umpire."

+

+By this time the laughter was almost continuous, but Anthony's

+expression of calm gravity remained unbroken. At times he appeared

+surprised and disturbed by the bursts of laughter; and a small freshman

+in the front row toppled out of his seat and had to be thumped on the

+back. Even the dean was chuckling.

+

+"Well, science has always been a weak point with me, and I guess that's

+why I'm not able to understand the science of hitting a ball with a

+wagon-spoke and running over salt-bags. But I'm not so narrow-minded

+as to affirm that because I can't see the science it isn't there.

+You've all heard about Abraham Lincoln and the book-agent, I guess.

+The book-agent wanted him to write a testimonial for his book. Lincoln

+wrote it. It ran something like this: 'Any person who likes this kind

+of a book will find this just the kind of a book he likes.' Well,

+that's about my idea of baseball; anybody who likes that kind of a game

+will find baseball just the kind of a game he likes.

+

+"Now, they tell me that down at Robinson they've found an old

+wagon-wheel, cut the fingers off a pair of kid gloves, bought a wire

+bird-cage, and started a baseball club. All right. Let 'em. There are

+other wheels and more gloves and another bird-cage, I guess. Captain

+Perkins says he has a club, too. I've never seen it, but I don't doubt

+his word; any man with Titian hair tells the truth. He says he keeps it

+out at the field. From what I've seen of baseball clubs I think that's

+a good, safe place. I hope, however, that he locks the gates when he

+leaves 'em. But Captain Perkins tells me that he has the finest kind of

+a baseball club that ever gibbered, and he offers to bet me a suspender

+buckle against a pants button that his club can knock the spots off of

+any other club, and especially the Robinson club. I'm not a betting

+man, and so I let him boast.

+

+"And after he'd boasted until he'd tired himself out he went on to say

+that baseball clubs were like any other aggregation of mortals; that

+they have to be clothed and fed, and, moreover, when they go away to

+mingle with other clubs they have to have their railway fare paid.

+Captain Perkins, as I've said once already, is a truthful man, and so

+I don't see but that we've got to believe him. He says that his club

+hasn't any money; that if it doesn't get some money it will grow pale

+and thin and emaciated, and won't be able to run around the salt-bags

+as violently as the Robinson club; in which case the keeper--I mean the

+umpire--will give the game to Robinson. Well, now, what's to be done?

+Are we to stand idly by with our hands in our pockets and see Robinson

+walk off with a game that is really our property? Or are we to take

+our hands out of our pockets, with the fingers closed, and jingle some

+coins into the collection-box?

+

+"I'm not a baseball enthusiast, as I've acknowledged, but I am an

+Erskine enthusiast, fellows. Perkins says we ought to beat Robinson at

+baseball. I say let's do it! I say let's beat Robinson at everything.

+If anybody will start a parchesi club I'll go along and stand by and

+yell while they down the Robinson parchesi club. That's what Providence

+made Robinson for--to be beaten. Providence looked over the situation

+and said: 'There's Erskine, with nothing to beat.' Then Providence made

+Robinson. And we started in and beat her. And we've been beating her

+ever since--when she hasn't beaten us.

+

+"I've done a whole lot of talking here this evening, and I guess you're

+all tired of it." (There was loud and continued dissent at this point,

+interspersed with cries of "Good old Tidball!") "But I promised to

+talk, and I like to give good measure. But the time for talking is

+about up. Mr. Hanson has something to say to you, and as he knows what

+he's going to talk about, whereas I don't know what I'm talking about,

+I guess I'd better stop and give him a show. But before I stop I want

+to point out a self-evident fact, fellows. You can't win from Robinson

+without a baseball team, and you can't have a baseball team unless

+you dig down in your pockets and pay up. Manager Patterson says the

+Baseball Association needs the sum of six hundred dollars. Well, let's

+give it to 'em. Any fellow here to-night who thinks a victory over

+Robinson isn't worth six hundred dollars is invited to stand up and

+walk out; we'll unlock the door for him. Six hundred dollars means only

+about one dollar for each fellow. I am requested to state that after

+Mr. Hanson has spoken his piece a few of the best-looking men among us

+will pass through the audience with small cards upon which every man

+is asked to write his name and the amount he is willing to contribute

+to secure a victory over Robinson that will make last year's score

+look like an infinitesimal fraction. If some one will go through the

+motions, I'd like to propose three long Erskines, three times three and

+three long Erskines for the nine."

+

+Anthony bowed and sat down. The senior class president sprang to his

+feet, and the next moment the hall was thunderous with the mighty

+cheers that followed his "One, two, three!" Then came calls of

+"Tidball! Tidball!" and again the slogan was taken up. It was fully

+five minutes ere the head coach arose. And when he in turn stood at the

+platform's edge the cheers began once more, for enthusiasm reigned at

+last.

+

+Hanson realized that further speechmaking was idle and confined his

+remarks to an indorsement of what Anthony had said. The distribution

+of blank slips of paper had already begun and his audience paid but

+little attention to his words, although it applauded good-naturedly.

+When he had ended, promising on behalf of the team, and in return for

+the support of the college, the best efforts of players and coaches,

+confusion reigned supreme. Pencils and fountain pens were passed hither

+and thither, jokes were bandied, songs were sung, and the tumult

+increased with the pushing aside of chairs and the scraping of feet as

+the meeting began to break up. But, though some left as soon as they

+had filled out their pledges, the greater number flocked into noisy

+groups and awaited the announcement of the result.

+

+At length, Professor Nast accepted the slip of paper handed him by

+Patterson and advanced to the edge of the platform. There, he raised

+a hand for attention, and at the same time glanced at the figures.

+An expression of incredulity overspread his face, and he turned an

+inquiring look upon the manager. The latter smiled and nodded, as

+though to dispel the professor's doubts. The hubbub died away, and the

+professor faced the meeting again.

+

+"I am asked," he said, "to announce the result of the--ah--subscription.

+Where every one has responded so promptly and so heartily to the appeal

+in behalf of the association, it would be, perhaps, unfair to give the

+names of any who have been exceptionally generous. But without doing

+so it remains a pleasant--ah--privilege to state that among the

+subscriptions there is one of fifty dollars----"

+

+Loud applause greeted this announcement, and fellows of notoriously

+empty pocket-books were accused by their friends of being the unnamed

+benefactor, and invariably acknowledged the impeachment with profuse

+expressions of modesty.

+

+"Three of twenty-five dollars," continued the professor, "six of ten

+dollars, seventeen of five dollars, and many of two dollars and over.

+The total subscription, strange as it may seem, reaches the sum of five

+hundred and ninety-nine dollars, one dollar less than the amount asked

+for!"

+

+There was a moment of silent surprise. Then, from somewhere at the left

+of the room, a voice cried: "Here you are, then!" and something went

+spinning through the air. The head coach leaped forward, caught it

+deftly, and held it aloft. It was a shining silver dollar.

+

+"Thank you," he said.

+

+The incident tickled the throng, and cheers and laughter struggled for

+supremacy. Jack pushed his way to the door, and remained there waiting

+for Anthony, one hand groping lonesomely in a trouser pocket where a

+minute or two before had snuggled his last coin.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVI

+

+JACK COURTS THE MUSE

+

+

+April passed into May, and uncertain skies gave way to placid expanses

+of blue, whereon soft fluffs of white moved slowly, blown by warm and

+gentle winds. Down at the boat-house, bare-legged and bare-headed, men

+filed across the floats, bearing the slender, glinting shells, or,

+with hands on oars, bent and unbent in unison to the sharp commands of

+important and diminutive coxswains; on the newly rolled cinder-track

+other men sped or jogged, heads well back and knees high, with white

+trunks fluttering in the breeze; in front of the stand the jumpers and

+pole-vaulters plumped themselves into the freshly spaded loam; on the

+diamond, brilliantly green in its carpet of carefully tended turf, the

+players darted hither and thither amid the crack of batted ball and the

+cries of coaches.

+

+By the beginning of the second week in May, baseball affairs had

+assumed a more encouraging look. The training-table had taken on

+six more men--among them Showell and Clover--and the unsuccessful

+candidates had gone to the freshmen team or found other branches

+of athletics to interest them. Erskine had played eight games, had

+won six, tied one, and lost one. What was practically a preliminary

+season was well-nigh over and with the middle of the month the serious

+contests would begin.

+

+Meanwhile, Jack had found himself. After a vicarious existence as

+a general outfield substitute, he had settled down as substitute

+second-baseman, a position which he had never attempted hitherto, but

+one which he took to in a way that vindicated his right to it. He

+showed that he possessed the three essentials of a good second-baseman:

+coolness, quickness, and judgment. With the exception of third base,

+second is the most difficult of the infield positions; it has been

+called the "keystone of the infield," and that very aptly. So far

+as handling the ball is concerned--that is, catching, stopping,

+or throwing--second-baseman has no harder work than shortstop or

+third-baseman; it is in studying the batsman that he encounters his

+difficulties.

+

+Jack started in with a good knowledge of the fundamentals of baseball

+and took kindly to coaching. Gradually he acquired the intuitive sense

+which enabled him to tell where the ball was going before it had left

+the bat, and to govern himself accordingly. He learned that a nine's

+success depends upon team-work and not upon individual brilliancy, and

+to control his zeal; to anticipate the shortstop's movements and to

+know, without looking, where that player and the third-baseman were;

+to keep always in mind that the best policy is to put out the runner

+nearest home; and much more besides.

+

+With a definite position to try for, Jack found it much easier to put

+every effort into playing. Even the fact that "Wally" Stiles, the first

+choice for second-baseman, would in all likelihood play out the big

+games, those with Harvard, Artmouth, and Robinson, did not trouble him.

+There would be other games which, if less important, were well worth

+winning, and in those he would probably take part.

+

+So Jack put his whole mind into learning his position, studying its

+possibilities, developing an eighth sense, which enabled him time and

+again to judge almost with exactitude in what direction, and how far,

+the ball, scarcely away from the bat, was going, and learning, too,

+to "size up" a batsman's prowess from the way he stood and looked and

+swung his stick. I have said that he possessed a good knowledge of

+the fundamentals of the game when he started in; but there were still

+things to learn which his baseball education had not taught, such

+little niceties as stopping grounders with his feet together so that,

+in case of a miss, the ball could not go between his legs, and, after

+catching or stopping a ball, to start at once toward the point whither

+the ball was to be thrown instead of standing still, so that by the

+time he had gathered himself for the throw the distance for the ball to

+travel had been lessened; little things these, but of the sort that win

+or lose a game.

+

+One thing that had a deal to do with Jack's ability to put his heart

+into his work on the diamond was the attitude of the other players

+toward him. Had the old scarcely concealed contempt and dislike been

+manifested he could never have shown up as varsity material. But that

+was past. In the minds of most of the fellows time had dimmed the

+memory of the incident at the river, now nearly three months ago, and

+Jack's attitude and behavior of late had aided.

+

+For a while the neutrality observed by Gilberth made him suspicious

+that the pitcher was only husbanding his powers of annoyance in order

+to indulge in some more than usually brutal expression of contempt.

+But, as time went by, Jack was forced to conclude that hostilities from

+that source were over. At length, the neutrality was succeeded by a

+show of friendliness. It was impossible to practise together day after

+day without an occasional word or two, and Jack and Tracy soon found

+themselves in the habit of greeting each other when they met, very

+ceremoniously, to be sure, and of sometimes exchanging observations

+on the bench much after the manner of slight acquaintances who find

+themselves thrown together at a party. Jack was very glad. The old

+thirst for vengeance on his enemies had wasted perceptibly under the

+influence of congenial companionship, and he was ready to cry quits.

+Just what Tracy's sentiments were at this time it is hard to say; it is

+doubtful if he knew himself.

+

+He had made up his mind to let Jack alone, and was doing it. Only one

+thing troubled him, and that was the fear that Anthony Tidball might

+think that his course was the result of the other's threats. And it is

+only fair to state on behalf of Tracy's physical courage that such was

+not the case. Joe Perkins's remonstrances had borne weight, and when,

+shortly after Anthony's visit, Professor White had added his request,

+Tracy had decided that, after all, he had possibly mistaken the

+sentiment of the college. Professor White had said to him very much the

+same things that Joe had said, but he had put them more convincingly.

+He knew Tracy, and did not make the mistake of ruffling his temper; on

+the contrary, when he had left, Tracy felt that there was one person at

+Erskine who understood him. And for the sake of that person and of Joe

+he would do as they asked him.

+

+Professor White's efforts in Jack's behalf were not limited to the

+talk with Tracy. He saw Joe Perkins and Hanson and King and several

+others with whom Jack came in daily contact and asked for the boy fair

+treatment. And he encouraged Jack to visit him and, when the latter did

+so, used every effort to hearten him. On the whole, it is safe to say

+that to the professor belonged a greater part of the credit for the

+betterment of the boy's condition. Such was the state of affairs when,

+on a certain Saturday evening, about the middle of the month, Jack and

+Anthony sat talking on the edge of Mrs. Dorlon's porch.

+

+Anthony had washed up his supper dishes and Jack had just strolled

+back from dinner at the training-table. The moon, well into its first

+quarter, was sailing in a clear sky over the tops of the elms in the

+yard. The evening was musical with the hum and whirr of early insects

+and the varied sounds from open windows. Somewhere farther up the curve

+of Elm Street an uncertain hand was coaxing the strains of Mandalay

+from a guitar, and now and then the faint music of a piano floated

+across from Walton Hall. Anthony had lighted his pipe and, with its

+bowl aglow in the dusk, was leaning against a pillar, one knee tucked

+up under his chin. Jack sat a yard away, his hands in his pockets,

+staring up at the moon.

+

+"Did you ever write poetry, Anthony?" he asked suddenly.

+

+"No." Anthony sucked reflectively at the pipe and shook his head

+slowly. "No, I've had the measles and whooping-cough and scarlatina,

+but I've never had poetry yet. Of course, I've tried my hand at blank

+verse in Latin, but it wasn't poetry; even the instructor acknowledged

+that."

+

+"Oh, I meant just plain every-day poetry, you know," Jack explained. "I

+thought if you had you could tell me something about it."

+

+"Well, I didn't say that I didn't know poetry when I saw it," answered

+Anthony. "I've read a good deal of it, you see. What do you want to

+know?"

+

+"I want to know whether you have to have all your lines rhyme."

+

+"Depends, I guess. What are you going to do, anyway, turn into a poet?"

+

+"No, only I thought I'd try my hand at writing some verses for the

+fellows to sing at the games, you know. The Purple says we ought to

+have some new songs for the Robinson game."

+

+"Oh. Well, now, from what I've seen of such things it doesn't matter

+any whether lines rhyme or don't rhyme, I should say. As long as the

+words fit the music the rhymes just hump along as best they can. Have

+you written anything yet?"

+

+"N--no, not exactly," answered Jack cautiously. "I've got an idea, but

+I didn't quite know about rhyming. Of course, all the poetry you read

+rhymes all through, like Tennyson, or else it doesn't rhyme at all,

+like Milton. What I was wondering was whether it was all right to just

+rhyme now and then, you know, when you could, and not bother about it

+when you--you can't. What do you think?"

+

+"Oh, I'd just do the best I could and not worry," answered the other

+gravely. "The--hum--sentiment seems to be the most important thing

+about college songs."

+

+"Yes, I suppose so. It's funny how few rhymes there are when you come

+to look for them," said Jack thoughtfully. "Now there's 'purple'; I

+can't find anything to rhyme with that."

+

+"Purple? Now that does sound difficult. Let's see; I guess 'turtle'

+wouldn't do, eh?"

+

+"I'm afraid not. I've tried everything. I thought maybe it wouldn't

+matter if it didn't rhyme."

+

+"Don't believe it will. Let's hear what you got."

+

+"Oh, it isn't anything much," answered Jack modestly. "It--it goes to

+the tune of 'Hail, Columbia!' you know."

+

+"All right; sing it if you'd rather."

+

+"I can't sing; I'll just say it. It--it begins like this:

+

+    Hail to Erskine, conq'ring band!

+    Firm together we will stand!

+    While the battle rages high

+    We will fight until the last!

+    Underneath the purple banner we

+    Will live or die for victory!

+

+What--what do you think of it?"

+

+"Well, if you want my honest opinion," replied Anthony, "I think it's

+too classic, Jack. Seems to me what you want in those kind of songs is

+a lot of 'rah, rah, hullabaloo!' And I don't believe 'Hail, Columbia!'

+is a good tune; seems too jerky. Course, I'm not an authority, and

+maybe I'm mistaken. But if I were you I'd try again; get more swing

+into it. I've always thought 'John Brown's Body' was the best tune to

+set football songs and such things to. Of course, it's older than the

+hills and has been used by every college from Maine to Mexico, but that

+doesn't matter if you get some good words. I'd forget about the rhymes

+at first; just find some lines that'll swing along, you know; kind of

+sing themselves; afterward, you can go back and tuck a rhyme in here

+and there. Try it."

+

+"I guess I will. I wasn't just satisfied with that 'Hail, Columbia!'

+one, but I didn't know what ailed it. I thought maybe it was because I

+couldn't find a rhyme for 'high.' There was 'die,' but I'd used that in

+the last line, you see."

+

+"I see." Anthony knocked the ashes from his pipe and stretched himself.

+"Guess I'll have to go up and do some studying," he said.

+

+"Wait a minute," Jack pleaded. "There's another thing I wanted to ask

+about. Is it hard to learn to swim?"

+

+"Never learned, Jack, and can't say from experience. But from what I've

+seen I'd say it was blamed hard."

+

+"Never learned! But I thought----"

+

+"It was like this with me. When I was about knee high to a grasshopper

+I went in wading and saw my daddy out in a dory about fifty feet from

+shore. So I went out to him. They say I didn't have much breath left

+when they pulled me in; I don't remember. I guess I swam, though; if I

+didn't I don't know how I got there. Anyhow, after that I knew how all

+right."

+

+"Just imagine," mused Jack. "I know I couldn't do that, but I do want

+to learn. Do you think I could?"

+

+"Course you could, but I guess it would take time. If you want me to

+help, I'll do it."

+

+"Will you, really?" exclaimed the other. "Glory! that will be fine! I

+wanted to ask you, but didn't quite like to; I've been so much of a

+bother to you already."

+

+"Oh, get out. We'll go down to the river and find a place where it's

+not too deep; I think I know of one. The water'll be plaguy cold,

+though, this early. Want to wait a while longer?"

+

+"No, I want to begin right off--before my courage fails me; you know,

+I'm an awful fool about water, Anthony."

+

+"Because you don't understand it. Water won't hurt you if you know what

+to do."

+

+"And you won't mind if--if I'm a bit scary at first?"

+

+"No, I won't mind. If you say you want me to teach you to swim, I'll do

+it if I have to throw you in the water and hold you there. Do you?"

+

+Jack took a long breath and looked hard at Anthony's face in the

+moonlight. What he saw evidently reassured him, for after a pause he

+said faintly:

+

+"Y--yes!"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVII

+

+ERSKINE _VS._ HARVARD

+

+

+The nine took its first long trip when it journeyed to Cambridge

+and played Harvard in a warm drizzle of rain that made the ball

+slippery and hard to hold, and set the players to steaming like so

+many tea-kettles. Erskine met her second defeat of the season that

+afternoon. She had an attack of the stage-fright usual to the teams of

+lesser colleges when confronting those of the "big four," and it lasted

+until the fifth inning, when, with the score 9 to 0 in her favor,

+Harvard's pitcher slumped and allowed the bases to fill for the first

+time during the contest.

+

+Erskine awakened, then, to the fact that her opponents were only human

+beings, after all, and not supernatural personages protected by the

+gods, a fact which Hanson had been seeking to convince them of all day

+long, but without success. With bases full, one man out, and Bissell at

+bat, there seemed no reason why the Purple should not place a tally

+in her empty column. This was evidently the view that Bissell himself

+took, for after having two strikes and two balls called on him, he

+found what he wanted and drove it hard and straight between first and

+second. Gilberth scored, but Billings was caught out at the plate.

+Motter reached third and Bissell went to second. Hanson whispered to

+Lowe as he selected his bat. Harvard shortened field.

+

+"Last man!" called the crimson-legged first-baseman.

+

+"Last man!" echoed the shortstop.

+

+Lowe's first attempt at a bunt missed fire and the umpire called a

+strike on him. Then came two balls, each an enticing and deceptive

+drop. Lowe was the last man on the batting list, but if he wasn't much

+of a hitter he at least was capable of obeying orders. He watched

+the balls go by in a disinterested manner that was beautiful to see.

+Then came another strike, and for an instant his round, freckled face

+expressed uneasiness. The Harvard pitcher decided to end the half, and

+threw straight over base. Lowe shortened his bat a trifle and found the

+ball, and the next moment both were going toward first base, the ball

+very slowly, Lowe about as rapidly as he ever moved in his life.

+

+It was the pitcher's ball, and the pitcher ran for it. Motter, at

+third, started pell-mell for home, only to stop as suddenly and dive

+back to the bag. But the pitcher knew better than to throw there, and

+as soon as Motter had turned he sped the ball to first. But he had

+delayed an instant too long, and the umpire dropped his hand in the

+direction of Lowe, who, with both feet planted firmly on the bag, was

+obeying Perkins's repeated command to "Hold it, Ted!" It was a close

+decision, but there was no reason to judge it as unfair, and the game

+went on with the bases again filled and Erskine's heavy batters up.

+

+Joe Perkins stepped to the plate, gripped his bat, and looked over

+the field. Shortstop was covering second, and the infield was playing

+close. Out toward the corner of the Carey building the right-fielder

+was stepping back. Erskine's captain had already sent two long flies

+into his territory, and it wouldn't do to take risks. Joe looked with

+longing eyes upon a stretch of undefended territory behind first base

+and out of reach of right-fielder. If he could bring a low fly down

+there it was safe for another tally. But the pitcher had himself in

+hand again. He was more than usually deliberate and the first delivery

+didn't lend encouragement to Joe's hopes, for although that youth,

+staggering away from the base, sought to impress the umpire with the

+fact that the ball had gone well inside of the plate, that astute,

+black-capped person called "Strike!"

+

+The three or four hundred students who, with raincoats and umbrellas,

+were braving the discomforting drizzle, applauded. Jack, huddled

+between Clover and Northup on the bench in the lee of the west stand,

+sighed and took his hand from the folds of his sweater to beat them

+anxiously on his knees. Clover wiped the rain from his cheek and turned.

+

+"We could use a home run, couldn't we?"

+

+"You might as well talk about winning the game," growled Northup, who

+had overheard. "That pitcher hasn't given any one a home run yet this

+season, and you can bet he isn't going to present us with one."

+

+"Ball!" droned the umpire.

+

+"Well, I'll be satisfied with a hit," sighed Jack.

+

+"You're wise," Northup answered with a grin. "There it is again," he

+muttered then, as Joe, reaching for an outshoot, swung in the air and

+stepped back to tap the plate with his bat and look exasperated.

+

+"Say, doesn't that make you mad," asked Clover, "to reach for something

+when you know you shouldn't, and then get fooled? I'll bet Cap could

+bite nails now!"

+

+But Joe got over his annoyance the next instant, and gave his attention

+to the ball. When it had passed he sighed with relief and silently

+gave thanks to the little red-faced umpire. It was now two strikes and

+two balls. Back of first and third King and Gilberth were coaching

+frantically:

+

+"Two out, Ted! Play off! Play away off!"

+

+"Run on anything, Teddy! Two gone! Now! _Now!_ NOW!"

+

+"With two Teds on bases," said Northup, "it seems as though something

+might happen."

+

+"Two? Is Lowe's name Ted?"

+

+"Yes, Theodore Coveney Lowe, Esquire, is the gentleman's full-- _Hey!_"

+Northup was on his feet, and a second later the bench was empty. Ten

+purple-stockinged maniacs danced and shrieked over the sopping turf,

+waving sweaters and caps. Motter and Bissell and Lowe were racing home

+almost in a bunch. Joe Perkins was speeding for second. He had put the

+ball where he wanted it, well over first-baseman's head, and yards and

+yards in front of right-fielder; had placed it there as carefully as

+though he had walked across the diamond and dropped it exactly in the

+middle of the uncovered territory.

+

+First-baseman started back for it, and the pitcher ran to cover first.

+But right-field was racing in, and it was that player who reached

+the ball first and fielded it home just too late to catch Lowe at the

+plate. Then the sphere flew back to second, but Joe, hearkening to the

+coaching, slid across the brown mud and got his fingers on a corner of

+the bag in plenty of time.

+

+There followed a pause in the progress of the game while Harvard's

+pitcher and her captain tried to convince the umpire that Lowe had not

+touched second base in his journey toward home. In that interim the

+little band of Erskine players and substitutes gathered together and

+cheered, with the rain falling into their wide-open mouths, until the

+Harvard stand applauded vigorously.

+

+"Four to nine!" yelled Knox. "We can beat them yet!"

+

+But King, with desperate purpose written eloquently over his face, went

+to bat and ingloriously fouled out to third-baseman, and the half was

+over. Erskine never came near to scoring again, although, now that the

+ice was broken, every man felt capable of doing wonderful things, and

+tried his best to accomplish them. The difficulty was with the Harvard

+team, and notably the Harvard pitcher; they objected. But if Erskine

+was not able to add further tallies to her score, she, at least, held

+her opponents down to two more runs, Gilberth pitching a remarkable

+game, and what had looked for a time like an overwhelming defeat

+resolved itself into a creditable showing for the Purple.

+

+Jack didn't get into the game for an instant, nor, in fact, did any of

+the substitutes. But, as he had scarcely hoped to do so, he was not

+greatly disappointed. After the game was over the team went back to

+Boston inside and outside a stage-coach, laughing, joking, cheering now

+and then, and, on the whole, very well pleased with themselves. Hanson

+didn't see fit to dampen their enthusiasm by reminding them of the

+faults which had been plentifully in evidence, but reserved his cold

+water for the next day. They had dinner at a hotel. In the course of

+the meal, King called across the table to Joe:

+

+"I say, we've got old Tidball to thank for this feed, haven't we? If it

+hadn't been for that speech of his we'd never have had enough money in

+the treasury to buy sandwiches."

+

+"I guess that's so," answered the captain.

+

+"You fellows needn't think, though," cautioned Patterson, "that you're

+going to get this sort of thing every trip."

+

+There was a groan.

+

+"Put him out!" called Gilberth.

+

+"Down with the manager!" cried King.

+

+"I wish," said Jack to Motter, who sat at his left, "that I could take

+some of this dinner back to Tidball. I don't believe he ever had a real

+good dinner in all his life!"

+

+"Guess you're right," Motter laughed. "Anyway, he doesn't look as

+though he ever had!"

+

+Patterson distributed tickets to one of the theaters, and the men were

+cautioned to be back at the hotel promptly at eleven in order to take

+the midnight train for home.

+

+"The management doesn't pay for these, does it?" Jack asked.

+

+"Thunder, no!" answered Motter. "The theater gives them to us, and

+advertises the fact that we're going to be there; calls it 'Erskine

+night.' We're on show, as it were. Some of the Harvard team are going,

+too. You needn't fear that Patterson's going to buy theater seats for

+us; you're lucky if you get him to pay your car-fare to the station!"

+

+Jack's experience of theaters was extremely limited, and he enjoyed

+himself thoroughly all the evening. The team occupied two big boxes at

+the left of the stage, while across the house the corresponding boxes

+were filled with members of the Harvard team. There was some cheering

+on the part of the Purple's supporters, but neither Hanson nor Joe

+encouraged it.

+

+"Shut that up," begged the latter, once. "They'll think we're a prep.

+school!"

+

+At half past eleven they got into a train at North Station and went

+promptly to sleep, two in a berth, and knew little of events until they

+were roused out in the early morning at Centerport.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVIII

+

+JACK AT SECOND

+

+

+Half a mile beyond Warrener's Grove, the wooded bluff at the end of

+Murdoch Street, the river makes in the shore an indentation which is

+known as the Cove. It is not an attractive body of water. At some time

+in the past there was a brick-yard there, and even yet the remains of

+two weather-beaten sheds and a couple of high troughs in which the clay

+was mixed may be seen. During a spring freshet the river went over its

+banks and flowed into the pits left by the excavations. Later, the

+water and the frost connected the stagnant pond with the river; rushes

+gained foothold in the clay bottom and the old quarry took on the

+appearance of a natural cove. Save in one or two places the depth is

+but slight, and, in consequence, the Cove offers warmer bathing in the

+spring than does the river. On the side nearest the railroad there is a

+stretch of gradually shallowing water that answers all the purposes of

+a beach. It was here, then, that Anthony and Jack, during the latter

+part of May, came almost every morning, and, exchanging their clothes

+for gymnasium trunks, played the parts of teacher and pupil.

+

+The first time that Jack found the cold water lapping his knees he went

+pale with terror, and would have fled ignominiously had not Anthony

+seized and encouraged him. In the end, he allowed the other to persuade

+him to remain where he was and, after gingerly splashing himself with

+water, watch his teacher a few yards beyond illustrate the method of

+swimming. Anthony realized that he had a task before him that required

+a deal of diplomacy, and he carefully avoided saying or doing anything

+to increase Jack's dread of the water.

+

+After four lessons Jack had gone the length of immersing himself and,

+held tightly by Anthony, had essayed a few wild strokes with arms and

+legs. Anthony strove to teach confidence first of all, and it was not

+until Jack could allow him away from his side that Anthony set about

+the easier part of his task. As soon as Jack could struggle for a few

+strokes through the water Anthony taught him to float. And it was not

+until Jack could float in every possible position that the swimming

+lessons were resumed. Then progress was rapid. By the middle of June

+Jack could swim out to a rush-covered raft which had been anchored

+about a hundred feet from shore by enterprising duck-hunters. At first

+Anthony kept beside him; later, they had races in which Anthony left

+Jack half-way to the goal; in the end, Jack found courage to swim to

+the raft and back by himself. But, as I have said, that was not until

+June was half over, and before that other things had happened.

+

+It was on the fourth of the month, a Wednesday, that Jack, for the

+first time, played a game through as second-baseman. Erskine's

+opponents were the Dexter nine, a hard-hitting aggregation of

+preparatory schoolboys, and to meet them Hanson and Perkins put in a

+team largely composed of substitutes. This team, in batting order, was

+as follows:

+

+    Perkins, catcher.

+    King, pitcher.

+    Northup, right-field.

+    Mears, first base.

+    Weatherby, second base.

+    Smith, third base.

+    Clover, shortstop.

+    Lowe, left-field.

+    Riseman, center-field.

+

+The last six, with the exception of Lowe, were substitutes, and before

+the game was over Lowe, too, had been replaced, Showell going in for

+him. Jack's playing that afternoon raised his stock fully a hundred

+per cent. He was in fine fettle--he had never felt better in his life

+than he had since he began his morning dips in the cold waters of the

+Cove--and covered the second of what Anthony had called the salt-bags

+in a manner that opened the eyes of his companions and caused "Wally"

+Styles much uneasiness. His batting, too, was as good as his fielding;

+he had the honor of making the first hit and the first run for Erskine,

+and was the only man on the team that afternoon, with the exception

+of Perkins, who knocked out a home run in the sixth, able to hit

+the Dexter pitcher for more than one base. In the fifth inning his

+three-bagger was clean and timely, bringing in two runs and placing him

+where he was able to score a minute after on a passed ball.

+

+Dexter made things extremely interesting for a while in the seventh

+inning, getting in two runs and filling the bases again directly

+afterward. It was Jack, then, who, in a measure, saved the day. With

+the bags all occupied, Dexter's catcher went to bat and lined out a hot

+ball just to the right of King. There was one out. King got one hand

+on the ball, but failed to stop it. Jack, who had run forward to back

+him up, found the ball in the air and threw quickly and true to the

+plate in time to put out the runner. Then Perkins, without more than a

+second's pause, returned it to Jack, who was again covering second, and

+Jack found the Dexter catcher two feet off base.

+

+The game ended with the score 5 to 2, and of those five tallies two

+were opposite Jack's name. The other three belonged to Perkins and

+Northup. Jack's record that day included four put-outs and five

+assists, and held no errors. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having

+done a good afternoon's work that put him in such a state of elation

+that composing verse alone seemed to satisfy him. When half past

+seven arrived and he had not appeared in Anthony's room, Anthony went

+in search of him and discovered him curled up in a ball on his bed,

+laboring with pencil and pad and flushed cheeks.

+

+"I've got it!" cried Jack.

+

+"Got what?" asked Anthony.

+

+"The song! Listen!" Jack squirmed about on the creaking cot until he

+had his back against the wall. Then he waved his pad triumphantly over

+his head. "It goes to the tune of 'John Brown's Body'; you suggested

+that, you know; and I didn't have any trouble at all; and the rhymes

+are all right, too, I think! Now, then!" And Jack, beating time with

+his pencil, recited sonorously his verses:

+

+    "Robinson is wavering, her pride's about to fall;

+     Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;

+     Erskine is the winner, for her team's the best of all;

+           Oh, poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!

+

+    "Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;

+     Purple are the banners that the conq'ring heroes wave;

+     Purple are the violets above the lonely grave

+           Of poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!"

+

+"Fine!" cried Anthony. "That's the sort of thing! Let's see it." He

+took the paper and, turning it to the light, began to hum, then sing

+the words to the old marching song, nodding his head in time to the

+music. Anthony had about as much melody in his voice as a raven, but

+Jack, watching and listening eagerly from the bed, thought he sang

+beautifully, and was enormously pleased with the production. When the

+final refrain was reached he joined his own voice, rocking back and

+forth in ecstasy, and the concert ended in a final triumphant burst of

+mel-- Well, no, not melody; let us say sound.

+

+"Do you like it?" Jack asked, as eager for praise of his lines as any

+poet.

+

+"Great!" Anthony answered. "And I should think it would do for a

+football song, too, wouldn't it?"

+

+"Would it?" cried Jack. "Yes, I believe it would! That's fine, isn't

+it? Of course, I don't want you to think I'm stuck up, Anthony, but I

+really think it's better than any that the Purple has published yet.

+What do you say?"

+

+"Well, I haven't read many of 'em; should think it might be, though.

+Better send it in right off, so it'll be in time for the next issue,

+eh?"

+

+"Yes, I'm going to mail it to-night; as soon as I make a good copy."

+Then, after a moment's hesitation: "I say, Anthony, would you mind

+copying it off for me? I write such an awful fist, you know."

+

+So they adjourned to Anthony's room, and Jack leaned anxiously over

+his friend's shoulder while the lines were copied in the most careful

+of copperplate chirography, folded, sealed, and addressed. Then Jack

+bought a one-cent stamp from Anthony and took the letter to the

+post-office, marching back through the warm June evening humming "Glory

+to the Purple," and in imagination leading the cheering section at the

+Robinson game.

+

+After he had gone to sleep he dreamed that he had been appointed

+poet-laureate of Erskine College, and was being driven along Main

+Street in Gilberth's automobile between serried ranks of applauding

+students and townfolk, his brow adorned with a golden fillet of

+laurel-leaves. The automobile was extremely spacious, since it held

+besides himself not only the faculty, but Anthony and Joe Perkins and

+the entire baseball team. When he acknowledged the plaudits of the

+multitude he had to hold his laurel wreath on with one hand, which

+annoyed him a great deal. In the end the president solved the problem

+by tying it on with a red silk handkerchief. Then, at the moment of his

+greatest triumph, Showell arose from somewhere and shouted in a voice

+that drowned the cheers: "He didn't compose it! The writing was Anthony

+Tidball's! I saw it!" Jack tried to deny the awful slander, but none

+would listen to him, and he awoke breathless and despairing, to find

+the sunlight streaming in the end window and the robins singing matins

+to the early day.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIX

+

+ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET

+

+

+"I wish I'd never taken the captaincy," said Joe Perkins.

+

+"Oh, rot! What's the good of talking that way?" asked Tracy Gilberth.

+"The nine's coming along all right. What if Artmouth did rub it into

+us? We had an off day; every team's liable to have them. Look at last

+year."

+

+"I know," answered Joe, "we had plenty of them then, and see what

+happened! We lost to Robinson, seven to nothing; we scarcely made

+a hit! If I thought--if I thought we were going to lose this year,

+I'd--I'd cut and run; honest, Tracy, I would!"

+

+"That'd be a nice thing to do, wouldn't it?" asked the other

+disgustedly. "Fellows would be proud of you, wouldn't they?"

+

+"It would be better than losing again," muttered Joe.

+

+"Oh, get out, Joe! Brace up; you're off your feed, that's what's the

+matter with you. I heard 'Baldy' telling Hanson yesterday that you were

+going stale. He didn't mean me to hear it; but I couldn't very well

+help it. That's why you're out here with me in my 'bubble' instead of

+taking batting practise this morning."

+

+"Oh, I know all that. A trainer doesn't send a fellow out for rides

+on Saturday mornings unless he's gone stale or has something else the

+matter. I suppose I am out of sorts, Tracy. And I guess I'd rather stay

+and take a licking like a little man than run away, but--" He stopped

+and scowled ahead of him at the dusty road. Then, "It's all well enough

+to talk about 'honorable defeat,' and all that, but it's mighty hard

+to lose your big game when you're captain and have worked hard and put

+your whole heart into it."

+

+"Of course it is; I know that," answered Tracy soothingly. "But you're

+not going to lose. You're going to win. So buck up, old chap!"

+

+"And there's poor old Tom Higgins," Joe continued dispiritedly. "What

+will he say? I promised him I'd win this year. He's coming up next

+week, if he can, to coach for a few days; I told you, didn't I? What'll

+he think when he sees how things are going?"

+

+"Oh, Tom Higgins be blowed!" cried Tracy. "He couldn't win himself,

+and I'd like to know what business he has finding fault with you if you

+don't win, either?"

+

+"But I promised him----"

+

+"Well, supposing you did? If you can't win, you can't, and that's all

+there is to it. Every fellow on the team is going to work as hard as

+he knows how; every fellow is going to stand by you until the last

+man's out. If we lose, it'll be simply because Robinson's got a better

+baseball nine. Cheer up, now, Joe, or I'll run this machine into the

+ditch there and send you out on your silly old nut."

+

+The two were speeding comfortably along River Street in Tracy's

+automobile. It was ten o'clock of a fresh morning in the first week of

+June. They had left the village a half mile behind and were _chugging_

+along over a somewhat dusty country road with green hillsides to the

+right and the gleaming river to the left. Occasionally the fragrant air

+was sullied with the smell of gasoline, and Joe sniffed disapprovingly

+and made uncomplimentary remarks about motor vehicles in general, and

+Tracy's in particular. But Tracy, who had had his orders from Simson

+to cheer Joe up and bring him home in good spirits, refused to take

+umbrage, and declared that gasoline had a rather pleasant odor.

+

+Joe was certainly suffering from nerves, and had been ever since the

+disastrous game with Artmouth, two days before, when Erskine had

+gone down ingloriously to the tune of 17 to 1, the 1 being the result

+of good fortune rather than good playing. Perhaps, as Tracy put it,

+the team had merely had an off day; at all events its performance had

+been anything but encouraging to the supporters of the Purple, and

+had thrown Joe into the depths of despair. With the final game of the

+season, the contest with Robinson, but two weeks distant, he saw only

+defeat ahead.

+

+They were in sight of the Cove now, and Tracy suddenly pointed ahead.

+"What in thunder's that, Joe?" he asked. Joe roused himself from

+unprofitable thoughts and looked toward the point indicated by his

+friend's finger.

+

+"Must be a duck," he said finally.

+

+"Duck be blowed! There aren't any ducks around here at this time of

+year. Perhaps-- I tell you what it is, Joe, it's a man's head! See?

+Some one's in swimming."

+

+"Queer place to swim, among all those rushes," Joe responded. "But I

+guess you're right. We can tell for sure farther on."

+

+"Yes. Look; there he comes out. There's a sort of beach there,

+remember? He's walking out, and----"

+

+"If it doesn't look like Jack Weatherby, I'll eat my hat!" Joe

+interrupted.

+

+"Weatherby!" echoed Tracy. "What's he doing down here? He's at

+practise."

+

+"No, only the first squad from ten until eleven; he's in the second.

+That's who it is, Jack Weatherby."

+

+"Rot! It doesn't look the least bit like Weatherby to me. I tell you

+what, we'll go over and see."

+

+"Can you get there in this tea-kettle?" asked Joe doubtfully.

+

+"Sure; run in where the old bridge used to be; it's just a nice little

+jounce."

+

+"All right, only remember that I'm not made of india-rubber."

+

+That is why Jack, when he rejoined Anthony in the shade of the old shed

+near-by, reported uneasily that an automobile, with two occupants, was

+crossing the clay field from the road, and that it must be Gilberth's.

+Anthony finished dressing and then went to investigate. As he turned

+the corner a voice hailed him.

+

+"Hello, Tidball! Was that you, for goodness' sake?"

+

+"Hello!" answered Anthony. "Was what me?"

+

+"The chap we saw in the water a minute ago. I could have sworn it was

+Weatherby," Joe replied.

+

+"I was in there," Anthony said. "Water's nice and warm down here."

+

+"Well, but how did you get dressed so quickly?" Joe went on,

+suspiciously. "Oh, you be blowed! It wasn't you we saw. It was Jack

+Weatherby, wasn't it?"

+

+"Maybe it was. He's just dressing himself around the corner there."

+Anthony saw that further attempt at concealing Jack's identity was

+idle. During the conversation Tracy and Anthony had not noticed each

+other's presence save by perfunctory nods.

+

+"Going back?" asked Joe.

+

+"Yes, as soon as Jack gets his clothes on."

+

+"Well, get in here and go with us, can't you? There's lots of room, eh,

+Tracy?"

+

+Tracy nodded. He had not told Joe of Anthony's call, and his friend

+was unaware that relations between the two were somewhat strained. Joe

+wondered at the lack of hospitality displayed.

+

+"Oh, I guess we'd rather walk," Anthony answered, smiling a bit behind

+his spectacles.

+

+"Nonsense, you'll get in here, both of you, and Tracy will show you

+what he calls 'squirting through space.' Hello, Jack!"

+

+Jack came into sight carrying the bathing-suits and towels and somewhat

+red of face. He feared that Joe and Gilberth had guessed his secret.

+

+"Hello!" he answered. "Hello, Gilberth!" The latter returned his

+salutation affably enough and Joe exclaimed:

+

+"You're a couple of nice mud-hens, aren't you? Why don't you pick out a

+decent place when you want to bathe? Come on and get in; we'll take you

+back."

+

+Jack hesitated and looked inquiringly at Anthony. The latter's

+expression gave no clue to his wishes, and so, in the end, Jack

+assented, and the two crowded into the carriage, and Tracy started back

+across the field toward the road. Joe seemed to have forgotten his

+troubles for the while, and the talk, ranging from baseball to final

+examinations, grew lively, even Gilberth finding his tongue at last.

+There was no hurry about getting back, he said, and so they crossed

+westward to the turnpike, and there, with a hard, safe road underneath,

+sped homeward at a rate that took Jack's breath away and made Anthony

+hold tightly to so much of the seat as he could find. They turned

+into Main Street at the Observatory just as the clock in the tower

+of College Hall, glimpsed over the tree-tops, indicated a quarter of

+eleven.

+

+"I guess I'd better get out at William Street," said Jack, "or I'll be

+late at the field. Will you come along, Anthony?"

+

+"Can't. I've got a recitation and I've already cut once this week."

+

+"Once?" cried Gilberth. "Great Scott, I've cut four times!"

+

+"Well, you'd better quit it, Tracy," Joe remonstrated, "or they'll be

+putting you on probation, and then we'll be beaten, sure as fate!" He

+turned to Jack. "Come to the room with me and then I'll go out with

+you."

+

+"You're not allowed out there this morning," cried Tracy. "Hanson said

+I was to keep you away until the game."

+

+"You can't," Joe replied quietly. "Besides, I'm feeling fine now, and

+it would give me the horrors to have to mope around the college while

+you fellows were enjoying yourselves."

+

+"Enjoying ourselves!" Tracy grumbled. "You've got a queer notion of

+enjoyment. If you think I'm happy when Hanson is throwing it into me

+because I don't hold my bat the way they did when he was a boy, you're

+away off, Joe."

+

+"Well, I'm going out, anyhow," Joe answered. Suddenly, just as they

+reached the corner of the yard, he turned to Anthony. "I say, Tidball,

+I wish you'd tell me what you two were doing at the Cove. I--I've got a

+reason for wanting to know."

+

+Jack shot an admonitory glance at his friend, but Anthony didn't

+see it; perhaps he didn't want to. He looked gravely back at Joe and

+replied:

+

+"All right, Perkins, I'll tell you. I was teaching Jack how to swim."

+

+"Anthony!" cried Jack, the color flooding into his cheeks. "You

+promised!"

+

+"No, I didn't promise, Jack," he answered calmly. "I know you didn't

+want me to tell, but I think the thing's been a secret long enough."

+

+Gilberth was frowning intensely and studying the clear road ahead,

+as though he expected a stone wall to rise out of the ground at any

+instant and bar his progress. Joe was looking curiously at Jack's

+averted face.

+

+"King was right," he said softly. Then, "Why in blazes didn't you

+explain, Jack? Why didn't you tell the fellows you couldn't swim?"

+

+But Jack only shook his head without turning.

+

+"Pride," said Anthony. "Jack's full of it. I wanted to tell what the

+trouble was the next day, but he wouldn't listen to it." He reached

+around and placed one big, ungainly hand on Jack's shoulder. "He's an

+idiot, Jack is, but he's _all right_!"

+

+Gilberth swung the machine over to the sidewalk, and stopped it in

+front of the north gate.

+

+"You'll have to get out here," he said gruffly. "I've got to take this

+thing down to the stable. You might as well stay in, though, Tidball;

+I'm going your way. So long, you fellows."

+

+The automobile whizzed off again down Main Street, and disappeared

+around the corner of College Place. Joe and Jack watched it out of

+sight and then turned together and passed through the gate, bending

+their steps toward Sessons Hall at the upper end of the quadrangle. For

+the first part of the way neither spoke. Then Joe put his hand through

+the other's arm and bent forward smilingly until he could see Jack's

+flushed face.

+

+"You're an awful fool, Jack," he said affectionately.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XX

+

+STOLEN PROPERTY

+

+

+Erskine met with defeat that afternoon.

+

+Arrowden did pretty much as she pleased; base-hits were as plentiful

+as errors; the former were to the credit of the visitors, the latter

+were the property of the home team. When it was over, and the audience

+had clambered soberly down from the stands to shake their heads

+disappointedly over the showing of the Purple as they tramped through

+the golden evening back to the town and the college, Patterson, the

+manager, slipped his pencil back into his pocket and softly closed the

+score-book to shut from sight the obnoxious figures, 15--3. It had been

+a veritable Waterloo.

+

+In the locker-house little was said. Every one realized that the

+team had taken a slump. Hanson stood aside, and "Baldy" Simson

+became the man of the hour. His was the task of getting the men back

+into condition, a task requiring patience and vigilance and all the

+knowledge that many years of experience had brought him. This was

+no time for fault-finding; on the contrary, Hanson was silent, and

+"Baldy's" tone was cheerful and soothing.

+

+The news of Erskine's trouncing brought delight to the hearts of the

+Robinson players and coaches. Down there at Collegetown they had been

+having troubles of their own of late. The brown-stockinged team was

+inferior to its last year's predecessor, and its coaches believed that

+if Erskine came to Collegetown in two weeks with a nine equal to that

+of the previous season she would win the dual championship. So it was

+that Erskine's defeat by Arrowden brought encouragement to Robinson;

+for Robinson had met Arrowden ten days before and had shut her out to

+the tune of 5 to 0. What pleased Robinson worried Erskine. The college

+at large, with last year's overthrow in memory, scented defeat. Hanson

+wrote four telegrams on Sunday. The tenor of all was the same; that to

+Thomas G. Higgins, captain of the defeated nine of the spring previous,

+read as follows:

+

+"Need you badly. Come at once. Wire when."

+

+Joe Perkins dropped a pound of weight every day until the middle of the

+week. Examinations were imminent, and this fact, with his own condition

+to think of and the worry caused by the general slump, came very near

+to making him quite useless on the diamond or in class-room. There was

+no practise on Monday for those who had played against Arrowden. They

+were told to stay away from the field and rest. Joe moped in his room

+until Tracy called for him and again took him out in the automobile.

+

+Jack went to second base that afternoon, and during the hour and

+a half's practise made a good showing. His throwing to first and

+to the plate pleased Hanson vastly. On Tuesday the first nine was

+still largely composed of substitutes. Joe and Tracy remained out

+and the battery was Knox and Griffin. "Wally" Stiles, the regular

+second-baseman, was out, but as he wore his every-day clothes Jack knew

+that the second bag was his for the afternoon.

+

+Showell played Bissell's place at center-field during the fielding

+practise, and later, when base-running began, was selected to start the

+procession. He played well off of first in obedience to Hanson, and

+when Mears cracked a short grounder toward third base he was able to

+reach second with time to spare. Jack was standing just in front of the

+base-line, arms outstretched toward third-baseman, and Showell saw his

+opportunity to get even for the uncomfortable position in which Jack

+had placed him on the occasion of the mass-meeting. Lunging out of the

+base-line he struck Jack in the back with his left shoulder with all

+the force he could summon. Jack pitched forward on to his face, rolled

+over, and lay there, feebly kicking the turf with his heels, and

+Showell flung himself on to the bag.

+

+The nearest players ran to Jack's assistance and found him, white of

+face, gasping painfully for breath. "Baldy" reached his side almost

+with the first, and, kneeling above his head, he took his arms and

+"pumped" them until the air was forced back into his lungs. After a

+liberal dousing with water, Jack sat up, gasping, and looked about

+him. His eyes fell on Showell, who was sitting on the bag watching

+proceedings disinterestedly, and a wave of color swept into his face.

+"Baldy" lifted him and supported him for a moment while he tried his

+feet. Jack was angry clear through and wished that he and Showell were

+alone that he might have it out with him. But he said nothing, and only

+two or three near-by players knew that the affair was not an accident.

+

+"Are you all right?" asked "Baldy."

+

+"Yes," Jack answered. Knox handed him his gray cap and he pulled it

+down over his forehead again and went back to the bag. Showell eyed him

+sharply, evidently on the lookout for retaliation.

+

+"You want to get out of the way," he blustered.

+

+"You'd better keep out of my way," Jack replied grimly.

+

+"Why, what would you do?" growled the other.

+

+But Jack made no answer, save for a glance of contempt that brought an

+angry flush into the somewhat sallow face of the other, and the game

+went on.

+

+After he had cooled off a little, Jack was heartily glad that he had

+not got into a fuss with Showell, for Hanson hated any approach to

+disagreement during practise, and was quick to show his displeasure by

+putting the offenders on to the bench for long terms of idleness. But

+Jack had the satisfaction of twice putting Showell out, once between

+first and second, and once between second and third, and of knowing

+that when the runner was replaced by another he had not made any too

+good a showing. In the locker-house Showell kept his eye on Jack, still

+not quite satisfied that the latter did not mean to resort to his

+fists to even the score, and saw Jack go out accompanied by Clover and

+Northup with feelings of relief.

+

+The next day, Wednesday, Erskine played State University with a team

+still largely made up of substitutes. Joe Perkins was back behind

+the plate and Gilberth went into left-field, King occupying the box.

+But Motter's place at first was taken by Mears, and Jack again held

+down second. Knox was back at shortstop, but the outfield, aside from

+Gilberth, was made up of substitutes. The most encouraging feature of

+the contest was the improved condition and hard, sharp playing of

+Joe. The rest, in spite of the fact that he had fretted continually

+under the enforced idleness, had done him lots of good. Erskine won,

+5 to 0, and the students strolled back to the college talking more

+encouragingly of the nine's chances.

+

+On Friday "Wally" Stiles got back into the practise and Jack, greatly

+to his disgust, retired again to the bench, or, to be more exact, to

+the net where Bissell was coaching a squad in bunting. Saturday's game

+was with Erstham, and before it was half over Jack was morally certain

+that unless Stiles improved greatly during the next few days the

+second-baseman in the Robinson game would be one Jack Weatherby.

+

+Stiles, unlike most of the other players, had not recovered from the

+slump, and his playing that afternoon was deplorable. Yet, since

+Erskine took the lead in the second inning and held it throughout the

+contest, he was not replaced, Hanson hoping that he would find his pace

+before the last man was out. But he didn't, even for a moment. The

+team, as a whole, showed up strongly, and Erstham went home with a 10

+to 2 score against her.

+

+Jack was sorry for Stiles, really and truly sorry, he told himself; yet

+he would have been less than human had he not experienced a feeling of

+delight in the thought that, after all, it was not improbable that he

+would get into the Robinson game. There was no certainty about it, of

+course, he reflected, for Stiles might, in fact probably would, take a

+brace on Monday, and, during the five days that would then intervene

+before the last contest, win back his title to the position. But there

+was ground for hope, and since Jack had hitherto never for a moment

+really expected to have a chance in the big game, that slender hope

+brought happiness. He went back to Elm Street and the sympathetic and

+patient Anthony, whistling merrily or humming "Down with Robinson,"

+much out of tune.

+

+His poetical production had duly appeared, among many others, in

+the Purple, and for several days he had been highly delighted. Each

+contribution had been signed with the author's name, and Jack had

+experienced not a little good-natured teasing by his friends. But there

+had been praise also, for his verses were better than the rest, and

+even Professor White had congratulated him.

+

+Jack was discovering that he had a good many friends. Not many were

+intimate, to be sure, but all were apparently genuine. Joe Perkins had

+promptly spread the story of Jack's swimming lessons, and at last the

+true reason for the latter's failure to distinguish himself in the r�le

+of life-saver had become generally known. If the college had been quick

+to condemn, it was equally prompt to acknowledge its mistake, and

+while few fellows made mention of the matter to Jack, yet many of them

+went out of their way to show him courtesy and kindness.

+

+Tracy Gilberth had never mentioned the subject to any one since the

+truth had come out, not even to Joe. But Jack was aware that the

+varsity pitcher very frequently sought his companionship nowadays and

+seemed intent upon making up for the injustice he had done him. Jack

+willingly met him half-way, his olden longings for revenge forgotten in

+his present content. Nor, as has been said, was Tracy the only one who

+sought to ease his conscience by paying little attentions to the fellow

+he had formerly despised. From an object of scorn and derision Jack had

+changed into something approaching a hero.

+

+On the Sunday succeeding the Erstham game Jack and Anthony were seated

+in the latter's room shortly after noon when Mrs. Dorlon knocked on the

+door and announced a caller, presently ushering in with many excited

+sniffles Professor White. The professor carried a newspaper in one hand

+and his immaculate silk hat in the other. He greeted the two and took

+the chair that Anthony promptly pushed forward. But remarks on the

+beauty and seasonableness of the weather seemed to interest him but

+little, and as soon as politeness would permit he plunged into the

+subject which had brought him.

+

+"Do you own a watch, Tidball?" he asked.

+

+Anthony stared, shot a glance at Jack, and after a moment of hesitation

+answered: "Yes, that is--well, in a way."

+

+"You have it now?" the professor went on. Jack scented mystery, and

+listened attentively, wondering the while why Anthony looked so

+uncomfortable. Surely it was no disgrace to borrow money on one's own

+property! Anthony hesitated again, then answered "No."

+

+"Was it stolen?" continued the professor.

+

+"Stolen? Well, now-- But, look here, professor, suppose you tell me why

+you want to know?"

+

+"Perhaps I had better," responded the other. "You're probably thinking

+me pretty cheeky and inquisitive. But I was reading the paper a few

+minutes ago, and saw that they'd arrested a tramp over in Gerrydale,

+and had found a lot of pawn-tickets on him. When they visited the

+pawn-shop and recovered the property they found among other jewelry

+a watch with the inscription--let me see." He found the place in the

+paper he held and read: "'Gold watch and chain; former inscribed

+Anthony Z. Tidball, from Henry Wright Porter--July, 1902.' That's your

+name, and I thought perhaps the watch was yours. Is it?"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXI

+

+OFF TO COLLEGETOWN

+

+

+Ere Professor White had finished Anthony was on his feet with hands

+stretching forth for the paper. The look of delight which he had

+flashed across at Jack and which still illumined his face caused that

+youth much wonderment.

+

+"Guess it's mine, all right," Anthony cried. The professor yielded the

+paper, and Anthony read the article through in silence. When he handed

+it back his eyes were dancing behind the lenses of his spectacles.

+"It's mine, sir; no doubt about it! The paper says all I need do is

+prove my ownership, and I can do that easily enough, for I have the

+number of the watch!"

+

+"But, Anthony," Jack objected, "you said that you'd----"

+

+"I'll go over to Gerrydale in the morning," Anthony interrupted

+hurriedly, shooting a warning glance at his friend. "I'm much obliged

+to you, sir; if you hadn't seen that and told me I don't believe I'd

+ever have got it back; I don't read the papers very often myself."

+

+"Well, I'm glad I saw it, Tidball. When was it stolen?"

+

+"About a month ago," answered Anthony somewhat vaguely. "I left it in

+my room, and when I came back for it it was gone. Of course I never

+knew who'd taken it. But--I'm plaguy glad to find it again."

+

+"Of course, especially since it was presented to you. What is the

+story, Tidball?"

+

+So Anthony told the professor about the rescue at Jonesboro, making it

+sound very casual and far from thrilling. But neither of his hearers

+was deceived, and insistent questioning and cross-examining finally

+gave the incident a different aspect.

+

+"Well, yes," Anthony acknowledged, "there was quite a sea running--

+Danger? Nothing to speak of if you knew how to manage a dory-- The kid?

+Oh, he came round all right after a while; pretty near thing, though;

+another second or two would have finished him, likely. Father of the

+boy wanted me to take some money, but I wouldn't; a fellow doesn't take

+money for saving a life. So after he got home he sent me the watch.

+That's all. Good deal of fuss about it."

+

+After the professor had taken his departure, insisting, for some

+reason, on shaking hands with the tall, ungainly junior, Jack turned

+upon Anthony and began his questions.

+

+"I didn't come right out, Jack, and say I'd pawned the watch," Anthony

+explained, "but I gave you to understand that. The fact is I didn't

+know what had become of it, and there wasn't any use saying it had been

+stolen as long as I wasn't certain about it. I left it in the room one

+morning when I went to recitation. I missed it in class, and came back,

+and couldn't find it. I guess the tramp found the door open and walked

+in."

+

+"When was it?" asked Jack.

+

+"Oh, well, about a month ago."

+

+Jack looked thoughtful, and Anthony eyed him uneasily. At last Jack

+brought one fist into the palm of his other hand and jumped up.

+

+"Anthony! Was it the morning I went off?"

+

+Anthony hesitated; but the boy's face showed that he had no suspicion

+that Anthony had for a while connected him with the missing article.

+

+"Why, yes, it was," replied Anthony.

+

+"I thought so!" Jack cried. "I remember now that I saw a

+trampish-looking fellow on the street when I came from breakfast. I

+passed him. I didn't pay much attention, though, because I was--feeling

+sort of knocked out. But once I heard a noise in the entry here while

+I was packing. I'll bet it was the tramp. And I remember seeing your

+watch on the table in your room, Anthony, when I took that note in

+there, and--why, come to think of it, I put the note under the watch!"

+

+"He followed you in, I guess," said Anthony.

+

+"That's just what he did. And when I went out he was in your room, I'll

+bet. And--and he took my money, too, don't you suppose? I must have

+left it out somewhere!"

+

+"That's about what happened," Anthony replied, grinning jovially. "I

+wish you could get your money back; but I guess that's too much to hope

+for."

+

+"I suppose so. Oh, I don't care now. But I am glad you're going to

+recover your watch, Anthony. Wouldn't it have been funny if I'd gone

+back into your room again and found him there?"

+

+"Yes, but you might have got laid out!"

+

+"Laid out nothing! I'll bet I could have whipped that chap. And I would

+have saved your watch, and----"

+

+"Missed your train!"

+

+"Yes, so I would have. I wonder if it would have made any difference? I

+fancy it's best the way it all happened." He considered the subject for

+a moment in silence. Anthony beamed across at him happily. He was glad

+he was to get his watch back, but gladder still that the last doubt as

+to Jack's honesty was dispelled; and, oh, so very glad that Jack knew

+nothing of his idiotic suspicions!

+

+"There's something I ought to tell you, Anthony," said Jack suddenly.

+He looked rather ashamed and apologetic and very serious. "I've thought

+of owning up several times, but--I never did," he continued.

+

+"Owning up? Well--what is it, Jack? Murder?"

+

+"No, it's--it's robbery!" Anthony stared.

+

+"That morning I went away," he continued, "I--I took something of yours

+with me. It wasn't much, but I shouldn't have taken it."

+

+"Why, what was it?" Anthony asked wonderingly. "I haven't missed

+anything."

+

+"No; but then, I put it back afterward. It was a pencil."

+

+"A pencil!"

+

+"Yes, the green one with the rubber tip; the one you used to have

+on your desk. I--I wanted something to remember you by," he added

+shamefacedly. "And so I took that. I thought you wouldn't care. I was

+going to write and tell you when I got home."

+

+"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Anthony. "I missed that pencil for

+two or three days, and then one morning it turned up again on the desk.

+But, hang it, Jack, you were welcome to the old thing, of course! I'm

+glad you took it--glad you cared to remember such a silly old codger as

+I! Why, that was nothing; not worth mentioning. Besides, you gave me

+that charm, and fair exchange is no robbery!"

+

+"I'm glad you don't mind now that you know," said Jack simply. And,

+after a moment: "When you get your watch back again you can wear that

+bean, can't you?" he asked.

+

+"Well, I should say so!" replied Anthony with much decision. "And

+what's more, Jack, I'll wear it as long as the chain holds together!"

+

+There was no difficulty the next day in recovering the watch. Anthony

+gave a detailed description of it, and explained the circumstances of

+the robbery, and his property was handed over to him at once. But it

+is needless to say that Jack's roll of money was not among the objects

+recovered from the pawn-shop, nor was it found on the prisoner. Anthony

+was told that it might become necessary for him to attend the trial and

+give evidence. But he begged off very eloquently, and in the end the

+police decided that perhaps there would be evidence enough to convict

+the thief without calling upon Anthony. And, as it turned out, the

+decision was correct.

+

+Jack never learned that Anthony had for a while suspected him of

+the theft of the watch; and it was better so. For while Anthony's

+suspicions were certainly justified by circumstances, yet Jack could

+never have seen the matter in the same light, and would have been

+greatly hurt had he ever learned of it.

+

+In the second week of June two things began simultaneously, final

+examinations and morning baseball practise. Naturally, the first

+seriously interfered with the second, and it was only by the most

+complicated arrangement on the part of Hanson that the players were

+able to report at the nets during the forenoons for batting practise.

+Three assistant coaches had put in appearance in response to his

+telegrams, among them the captain of the unsuccessful nine of the year

+before. Higgins was a good player and turned out to be as good a coach.

+His heart was set on witnessing a victory over the Brown and he worked

+enthusiastically and tirelessly. Afternoon practise began every day

+at three-thirty, and never let up as long as there was a ray of light

+left. The slump was a thing of the past, and every man responded well

+to the demands of the coaches. Stiles gradually recovered his form,

+and in the last game before the final contest--played on Thursday with

+Harwich Academy--he superseded Jack at second, and Jack, his hopes

+dead, sat on the bench and tried to be philosophic.

+

+That Thursday game attracted the biggest audience of any thus far

+played; not because the Academy team was strong enough to promise a

+hard-fought battle, but for the reason that it was given out that the

+Erskine nine was to play just as it would in the game at Collegetown

+the next day but one. The batting list was as follows:

+

+    Perkins, catcher.

+    Gilberth, pitcher.

+    Motter, first base.

+    Bissell, center-field.

+    Stiles, second base.

+    Knox, shortstop.

+    Billings, third base.

+    King, left-field.

+    Northup, right-field.

+

+Allowing for the fact that every man had been worked hard all the week

+up to the very beginning of the game, and that examinations were in

+progress, the exhibition of ball-playing made by them was decidedly

+encouraging. The cheering was a notable part of the contest. Led by the

+senior class president and five assistants, the stands did heroic work,

+and cheers and songs thundered forth unceasingly.

+

+Jack, sitting forlornly on the bench, wedged in between other

+substitutes quite as forlorn, found balm for his disappointed hopes in

+the fact that the song that went the best of any, and the one which was

+most often sung, was his. The way in which the throng emphasized the

+"Poor old Robinson!" was good to hear.

+

+When the game was at an end--it was almost dark by then--the spectators

+marched back down William Street to the college, cheering and singing

+all the way. Jack, trotting over to the locker-house in the wake of

+the other players, heard from down the street the refrain arising

+splendidly to the summer sky:

+

+    "Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;

+     Purple are the banners that the conq'ring heroes wave;

+     Purple are the violets above the lonely grave

+           Of poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!"

+

+The enthusiasm didn't cease until late at night. After dinner the

+fellows thronged the yard in front of Walton and the cheers and songs

+were gone through with again and again.

+

+There was little work the following day for the players. Morning

+practise was omitted, and in the afternoon a little running and

+throwing to bases constituted the program. In the evening there was

+a reception to the nine and substitutes in Brown Hall, and again

+enthusiasm was rampant. The Glee Club sang, the college band played,

+the fellows cheered, the dean and Professor Nast and the coaches and

+Captain Joseph Perkins made speeches, and there was a grand hullabaloo

+until half past nine.

+

+Jack bade good-by to Anthony that night, for the nine and substitutes

+were to go to Collegetown in the morning on a train that left at half

+past six. The supporters were to follow on a later train, but Anthony

+was not to be among them.

+

+"I wish I were going," he said, "but I just can't afford it, Jack. But

+I'll be down on the street in the afternoon, and while you're knocking

+base runs and such things you'll know that I'm flinging my cap for you

+here at home."

+

+"It's little chance I've got," said Jack sadly. "But I may get on for a

+while, Anthony. Anyhow, I wish you were going along."

+

+"So do I. Good night, Jack, and good luck to you and the nine and old

+Erskine. You'll play, of course; they can't win without you, Jack! Good

+night!"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXII

+

+AT THE END OF THE SIXTH

+

+

+If you are so fortunate as to be occupying a seat in the stand running

+parallel with the line to first base, and if you are about midway

+between that base and the home plate, you may congratulate yourself

+upon being in the best place of all from which to watch the game.

+Under ordinary conditions you have a clear view of every player, the

+batsman, unless he is left-handed, is facing you, and the run to first

+base is made directly in front of you. Make yourself as comfortable as

+the narrow board seat and uncompromising back will permit, be grateful

+for the clear sky and warm sunlight, which, if it beats a little too

+ardently upon your cheek, makes up for it by limbering the joints and

+muscles of the players and urging them to their best efforts, and

+watch the game, prepared to applaud good work, joyfully if performed

+by your side, ungrudgingly if by the other, and to accept victory with

+gratitude and defeat with equanimity.

+

+From where you sit you see first the Erskine players on their bench at

+the foot of the sloping stand, their purple caps thrust back on their

+heads or held in their hands. You can't see their faces, but their

+broad shoulders suggest the best of physical condition. Beyond them

+to the right a white deal table is occupied by four men who are busy

+writing the history of the contest.

+

+At the feet of the players the field begins, a level expanse of closely

+cropped turf, which stretches away for a quarter of a mile like a great

+green carpet. Beyond the field is a thicket of trees, elms, chestnuts,

+and maples. Beyond that, again, the warmly red roof of the gymnasium

+peers forth, the forerunner of many other roofs and turrets and towers

+set sparsely at first amid the foliage, but quickly grouping together

+about the campus. There lies Robinson College. To the left, where the

+white spire pierces the tree-tops and glistens against the blue sky,

+the village of Collegetown commences and straggles away to a tiny

+river, no wave or ripple of which is from here visible.

+

+But you have wandered far afield. About you the tiers are gay with

+purple flags and ribbons, but farther along to your left the purple

+gives place grudgingly to brown, and from there on in a long sweep of

+color the brown holds sway even beyond third base. Four hundred among

+four thousand is as a drop in a bucket. Yet the four hundred is massed

+closely together, and every unit of it flaunts a purple banner, and is

+tireless in cheering and in song. Across the diamond the Robinson band

+plays lustily between the innings; you can see the leader swinging his

+little black wand, the cornetist's cheeks rising and falling like a

+pair of red bellows, the player of the base drum thumping away with his

+padded stick; but you hear nothing--nothing save an occasional muffled

+boom from the big drum; how can you when all about you cheers are

+thundering forth for "_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_" Your throat is dry

+and parched, the perspiration is trickling down your cheek, and your

+eyes are dazzled with the sunlight; but you're as happy as a clam at

+high tide, for the sixth inning has begun, neither side has yet scored,

+Erskine is at bat, and your heart's in your mouth!

+

+Five innings without a tally doesn't sound exciting, and yet, if

+we except the second, every one of those five innings had kept the

+audience on the edges of the seats. In every inning save the second

+Robinson had placed men on bases, and at the end of each the supporters

+of the Purple had heaved sighs of heartfelt relief, finding sufficient

+satisfaction in the fact that the Brown had not scored. Only once

+had Erskine dared hope for a tally. That was in the third. The tally

+didn't come. It had been a pitcher's battle, and the palm had gone to

+Vose, the tall, thin fellow whose spindle-shanks were encased in brown

+stockings. Not a single hit had been made off him, while Gilberth had

+been struck freely, yet had frequently managed to puzzle the batsman

+when a single would have brought in a run, or possibly two. When summed

+up it came to this: Erskine had been outplayed, and that Robinson did

+not now lead by several tallies was due to her inability to make her

+hits at the right time. The players of each college, in batting order,

+were as follows:

+

+        ERSKINE

+    Perkins, catcher, captain.

+    Motter, first base.

+    Gilberth, pitcher.

+    Bissell, center-field.

+    Knox, shortstop.

+    King, left-field.

+    Northup, right-field.

+    Stiles, second base.

+    Billings, third base.

+

+        ROBINSON

+    Cox, first base.

+    Condit, catcher.

+    Hopkins, third base.

+    Morgan, shortstop.

+    Devlin, left-field.

+    Wood, center-field, captain.

+    Richman, second base.

+    Regan, right-field.

+    Vose, pitcher.

+

+

+At the beginning of the sixth inning it was anybody's game. Billings,

+the tag-ender, went to bat. On the Erskine stand the cheering died

+away and the purple flags ceased waving and fluttering in the still

+afternoon air. Across the diamond the band laid aside its instruments,

+and the shadow of the western stand crept along the turf until its

+edge touched the line of white that marked the coacher's box. On the

+players' benches the men leaned forward anxiously and watched Billings

+thrust his cap back and grip his bat determinedly.

+

+But it was soon evident to the watchers that Erskine was not to score.

+Billings hit a short grounder to first-baseman who scooped it up and

+tagged the bag before the batsman was half-way toward it. Joe Perkins

+had two strikes called on him ere he found the ball, and sent a high

+foul into the hands of left-fielder. He tossed aside the bat with a

+look of disgust and paused on his way back to the bench to whisper

+into the ear of Motter, the next victim to the deceptive curves of the

+merciless Vose. Joe crowded into a space between Billings and Tracy

+Gilberth.

+

+"_I_ can't find him," he sighed.

+

+"No, hang him," growled Tracy, "he's too much for any of us. But I'll

+bet he'll let down before the game's over; and then--well, then we want

+to be ready, Joe!"

+

+"Do you think he will? It doesn't look like it."

+

+Tracy nodded knowingly.

+

+"His arm's getting stiff. I know the signs. So's mine, for that matter,

+and I've pitched perfectly rotten ball, Joe!"

+

+"Nonsense, you've done good work. But let me know as soon as you want

+to quit, Tracy. How about the next inning?"

+

+"That's for you to say," answered Tracy. "But I guess I can hold out

+through the seventh, if you don't mind."

+

+"All right; I'll put King in for the eighth. Oh, hang! Come on,

+fellows! Out on the run!"

+

+Motter had struck out, and was trotting to his position at first,

+drawing on his glove and looking wofully sad. The Robinson band struck

+up again, and the Erskine contingent, not to be outdone, started the

+cheers once more, while the purple-sleeved players spread out over the

+diamond.

+

+Joe thumped his big mitten and Tracy picked up the ball. The umpire,

+a rotund little man in a navy-blue blouse shirt, ran nimbly to his

+position.

+

+"First man!" cried Joe confidently.

+

+The batsman was the Robinson captain and center-fielder, Wood. Tracy

+was not greatly afraid of Wood, and so saved his arm by pitching a

+few slow balls, none of which the Robinson captain was able to touch.

+When he struck out the Erskine cheers rang across the field. Richman

+came next. He was the first of the Brown's tail-enders on the batting

+list, and he followed the way of his captain, while the purple flags

+fluttered joyously.

+

+Perhaps Tracy was overconfident, for when Regan, the enemy's

+right-fielder, stepped to the plate, he shook his head at Joe's signal

+for an outshoot, and sent a straight, slow ball over the corner of the

+base. And Regan got it on his bat and sent it arching in easy flight

+toward second, and raced for the bag.

+

+"Mine!" called Stiles.

+

+"Take it!" shouted little Knox, backing him up.

+

+But Stiles didn't take it. Instead he let it slip through his fingers,

+and so when Knox had recovered and fielded it to Motter the runner was

+safe.

+

+"Twenty minutes!" yelled the Robinson coach derisively. Then he began a

+desperate effort to rattle Gilberth. "On your toes!" he shrieked. "Go

+on, go on! He daren't throw it! Way off now! I'll look out for you! Way

+off! Now! _Now!_ NOW!"

+

+Tracy was disgusted because he had allowed Regan to hit him, and the

+shrieks of the coacher annoyed him. Earlier in the game he would not

+have minded twenty coachers, but now his arm was aching and growing

+stiff and tired and his temper and nerves were not so well in command.

+The next batsman was Vose, the Robinson pitcher. Vose was the poorest

+performer with the stick of any of his team, and in the natural order

+of things should have been struck out without difficulty. But this

+time he found the second ball that came to him and hit it safely into

+right-field, and Regan took second. Then came Cox, the head of the

+batting list, and swung his ash wickedly while he waited.

+

+There were coaches behind both first and third now, and their shrieks

+hurtled back and forth across the diamond. Tracy looked bothered, and

+Joe strove to hide his anxiety under a show of confidence.

+

+"Next man, fellows!" he called cheerily. Motter took his cue from him

+and added his voice. "He's a goner, Tracy! Strike him out, old man!"

+

+And for a while it seemed that Tracy would do it. But when the little

+fat umpire had called two strikes and two balls on him Cox managed to

+find something that suited him, and cracked it out past shortstop.

+Regan reached third, and, with two out, the bases were full. Joe and

+Tracy had a whispered consultation, while the Robinson stands hooted

+derisively, and then took their places again. Condit, the Brown's

+catcher, and one of the best batters, tapped the plate and looked as

+though he meant to bring in a run. The coachers kept up their medley of

+taunts and warnings, but Tracy had found his head again and paid not

+the slightest attention.

+

+The first ball went wide, and Joe's brilliant stop brought forth a

+burst of applause. Tracy hurried up, apologetic, keeping an eye on the

+bases. "Sorry, Joe," he said.

+

+"All right, old man," answered the captain cheerfully. "Now let's put

+him out."

+

+Two strikes followed.

+

+"Good eye, Tracy!" "Fine work, old man!" "That's the pitching!"

+encouraged the infielders. Then the batsman elicited laughter and

+applause from his supporters by crossing the plate and suddenly

+becoming a left-handed batter. Tracy looked surprised, and his next two

+efforts were pronounced balls. Joe leaned far to the left and squeezed

+his hands between his knees. Tracy nodded. But the batsman was an

+old hand, and was not deceived by the inshoot that followed. "Three

+balls!" cried the umpire. Everything depended on the next pitch. Tracy

+straightened his arms, swung his foot, and hurled a straight ball waist

+high for the plate. Condit met it with his bat, but failed to hit it

+squarely, and it went high into the air, and the men on bases raced

+toward home.

+

+When the sphere came down it was undeniably second-baseman's ball, and

+Stiles stood ready for it. Regan reached home, and the next man, Vose,

+swung around third. Suddenly a shout of joy burst from the Robinson

+stands and the coachers were screaming like mad. Stiles had muffed!

+

+Vose, with a coacher racing along beside him, sped for home. But Knox

+had seized the ball almost before it had touched the ground, and now

+he threw it straight and sure toward the plate. Vose hurled himself

+forward when fully ten feet distant, and slid for his goal, but the

+ball was there before him, and Joe's right hand swept down and tagged

+him. The side was out. The Erskine players hurried in to the bench, and

+Gilberth picked out his bat.

+

+It was the beginning of the seventh inning, but the score was no longer

+a blank; Robinson led 1 to 0. The band played wildly. Jack Weatherby,

+on the bench, felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find Hanson

+speaking.

+

+"You cover second, Weatherby," said the coach.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXIII

+

+A TRIPLE PLAY

+

+

+The seventh inning began with Tracy Gilberth at bat. He watched Vose

+with interest while that lanky youth settled himself to his task,

+hopeful that at last Robinson's star player was weary enough to allow

+the opponents to hit him. But Tracy was doomed to disappointment.

+Vose's arm was tired, beyond a doubt, but he only took more time at

+his work, his curves remaining as puzzling as ever. Tracy struck out

+ingloriously, just as he had done pretty much all through the game.

+Vose was still on his mettle.

+

+Bissell's fate was the same, while as for Knox, although he managed, by

+good judgment, to get three balls to his credit, yet in the end he too

+tossed aside his bat in deep disgust; and the nines again changed sides.

+

+Robinson's first man up was the redoubtable Hopkins; he had gained

+the sobriquet of "Hard-hitting Hopkins" last season. So far to-day,

+while he had managed to find Tracy rather frequently, his hits had

+netted little. But Tracy judged discretion the better part of valor,

+and deliberately gave Hopkins his base, while the purple-decked stands

+hooted loudly. Having given the other his base, Tracy next tried to

+take it away from him, but Hopkins was quick on his feet and time and

+again Motter got the ball too late to tag him out. Tracy gave it up

+finally, and turned his attention to the next batsman, Morgan.

+

+Morgan popped a foul to the foot of the stand, and Joe, hurling aside

+his mask, got it after a brilliant sprint of twenty yards. Devlin

+struck out and Hopkins stole second. The Brown's captain came to the

+plate with determination to do great deeds written large on his face.

+After getting two strikes on him, Tracy couldn't put the ball over the

+base, and Wood walked to first.

+

+Then, with two on bases, Robinson saw visions of another tally. But

+Tracy settled down again and struck out the third man, Richman, and

+again the Erskine contingent sighed with relief and cheered gleefully.

+

+Jack, who during the inning had had nothing to do, trotted in and

+examined the score-book over Patterson's shoulder. He found that he

+would be the third man at bat, and wondered a bit nervously whether

+he would have any better success with the mighty Vose's curves than

+had his predecessor, who was now sitting weary and dispirited on the

+bench. King, who during the first half of the previous inning had been

+limbering up his arm, was put in for Tracy, and Lowe took his place in

+left-field. Tracy sprawled himself down on the grass beside Jack with a

+sigh.

+

+"I wish to thunder I'd been able to hit that dub Vose just one!" he

+growled.

+

+"What's he like?" Jack asked.

+

+"Like a Chinese puzzle," Tracy replied grimly. "When you try him,

+Weatherby, look out for his drops; they're the worst; they come

+straight to about four feet from the plate, then they go down so fast

+that you can't see 'em. His inshoots are simple compared with those

+drops. Watch for fast balls, and when you see one coming, slug it! Make

+him think you can't bat, Weatherby; it's your first time up, and maybe

+you can fool him."

+

+"I'll try," Jack answered dubiously. "_Good work, King!_"

+

+King was speeding to first, having made a clean hit to the outfield

+just over shortstop's head. The Erskine stand burst into wild and

+confused cheering. Northup selected his bat and went to the plate,

+and Joe Perkins, after whispering directions into his ear, ran to the

+white line back of first base and began coaching King at the top of his

+lungs. Vose settled the ball in his hands, tapped the earth with his

+brass-toed shoe, and glanced sharply toward the runner.

+

+"Play off, Greg!" shouted Joe. "He won't throw! He's too tired! Now,

+now, now! This time! _Look out!_"

+

+King scuttled around back of the bag and reached it before the baseman

+swung at him with the ball.

+

+"Hold it, he's got the ball!" cautioned Joe. "All right, now; on your

+toes. Down with his arm! He won't throw again!"

+

+Vose looked as though he intended to, then turned quickly and pitched.

+The ball went wide, and had it not struck Northup on the hip would

+have given King two bases, since the Robinson catcher would never have

+stopped it. As it was, King, who was almost to second, trotted back and

+tagged base. The umpire waved his hand to Northup, and the latter went

+limping to first. King jogged to second, and the Erskine cheers drowned

+every sound for several minutes. Two on bases and none out! It looked

+like a tally.

+

+Joe yielded his place to Motter, sent Bissell to coach King from third,

+and caught Jack on his way to the plate. He had to put his mouth to

+Jack's ear in order to make himself heard above the shouting.

+

+"We've got to advance King, Jack," he said. "Wait for a good one, and

+make a slow bunt toward third; you know the way, old man. Swipe at

+the first ball as though you were going to knock it over the fence!

+Then wait for what you want. Keep steady, Jack!" He clapped him on the

+shoulder encouragingly and sped back to first.

+

+Jack's hope of rapping out a two-bagger was gone. Joe's directions were

+not to be disregarded, and it was a case of substituting team-play

+for ambition. He settled his cap, wiped his perspiring hands on his

+trousers, and gripped his bat. When he faced Vose he found that person

+eying him intently, appraising his ability as a batsman. Jack smiled

+easily--despite that he felt terribly nervous, and that the muscles at

+the back of his legs were twitching--and waved his bat forward and back

+a couple of times as though to say: "Right there, please, and I'll show

+you how it's done!"

+

+Vose looked about the bases very deliberately, and then offered Jack

+an outshoot. Jack was glad that he had been told to hit at the first

+delivery, for the mere act of swinging his stick fiercely through the

+air eased his nerves. He struck at least a foot too late, and the

+Robinsonians laughed and jeered. Vose thought he knew his man then,

+and tried the same ball again, and the umpire shook his head and waved

+his left hand. Jack waited; two balls; strike two; then he saw what he

+wanted, turned a trifle to the left, brought his bat around quickly

+and easily, and, as he ran to first, knew that he had succeeded.

+

+The sphere, a new and very white one it was, went rolling toward third

+base just inside the line. King was making for that base, too, and the

+baseman indulged in just that instant of hesitation that is fatal. The

+ball was his to field, yet he feared that if he left his bag none would

+cover it. When he finally got the ball, reaching it a second before

+Vose, King was safe on third, Northup was sliding for second, and Jack

+had crossed first. He tossed the sphere to the pitcher, and the latter

+went back to the box scowling wrathfully. The Erskine stand was a bank

+of purple. The senior class president, bareheaded, wilted of collar and

+crimson of face, was standing on a seat leading the singing:

+

+    "Robinson is wavering, her pride's about to fall;

+     Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;

+     Erskine is the winner, for her team's the best of all;

+           _Oh, poor old Robinson!_"

+

+Billings went to bat. Motter was whispering instructions to Jack on

+first. Vose, calm of face, looked about the bases, while his support

+called encouragingly to him. Then, before his arm was well back, Jack

+had started like an express-train toward second. At the same instant

+King made as though to dash home, and Northup played off half-way to

+third. The delivery was a poor one, but Condit stopped it, threw off

+his mask, and, bewildered, threw to second.

+

+It was a costly mistake, for King was sliding across the plate before

+second-baseman had received the ball, and the Erskine fellows were

+hugging each other uproariously. Jack had flown back toward first, but

+half-way there he paused. Northup was caught on his way to third, and

+now was dancing back and forth with the ball crossing and recrossing

+above his head, and shortstop and third-baseman closing in on him every

+second. Then he stumbled and shortstop was on him like a flash, and he

+crawled to his feet to dust the loam from his shirt and trot off the

+field. Meanwhile Jack had made a good slide for second, and had beaten

+the ball.

+

+The score was tied, there was but one out, and a man on second! Is it

+any wonder that Erskine's supporters went mad with delight and danced

+and shouted and threw flags and caps into the air?

+

+When things had settled down once more Billings stepped back into the

+box. From behind him came imperative demands for a home run. Billings

+tried his best to accommodate his friends the next instant, for there

+was a loud _crack_, and the ball went arching high and far toward

+right-field. But when it descended the Robinson fielder was under it,

+and Billings stopped his journey around the bases and came back. The

+left-fielder sped the ball home quickly, but not soon enough to keep

+Jack from reaching third.

+

+The Robinson band had started bravely to work once more, but across the

+diamond the Erskine leaders had brought order out of chaos, and four

+hundred purple-flaunting enthusiasts were again cheering slowly and in

+unison:

+

+"_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah,

+rah! Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_"

+

+And the cheers took on new force when it was seen that the Purple's

+captain was the next batsman. Joe had given a message to King, and

+now King was imparting it to Jack down at third base, and Jack was

+nodding back to Joe. Robinson's catcher, Condit, was badly rattled,

+and Joe knew it and was planning accordingly. The stands settled down

+into comparative quietude, and Vose, still calm and confident-looking,

+pitching the game of his life, faced his new opponent. The outfield

+came in a bit.

+

+Vose's first delivery was easily a ball, and his second was undeniably

+a strike. Then followed an outshoot and a drop, neither of which did

+Joe take to. Back went the ball to Vose, and, with King shouting

+weirdly at third, he shot his arms overhead and sped it again toward

+the plate. Then an odd thing happened.

+

+The ball was a drop. Joe struck at it hard, dropped his bat, and flew

+toward base. The catcher, who had stopped the ball on the ground,

+stood up, glared bewilderedly, and then, concluding that it had been

+the third strike, threw to first-baseman, Vose shouting warnings which

+he did not hear. Jack, the moment Joe had struck, had started warily

+toward home, and although first-baseman caught the ball and hurled it

+back to the plate in the next instant, he was lying above the base in a

+cloud of dust ere the catcher tagged him. Again pandemonium broke lose

+on the Erskine stand. The Purple was one run ahead.

+

+Joe trotted back to the plate and picked up his bat, and Jack went to

+the bench, dusty, panting, and happy, to be hugged and slapped by the

+delighted occupants. There followed a pause in the game's progress

+during which Robinson's captain sought to find a rule that would

+put Jack back on third. But Joe's strategy was within the law, and

+presently the Robinson catcher picked up his mask miserably and the

+captain, disgruntled, went slowly back to his position in center-field.

+

+The incident appeared to have discouraged both the battery and the

+support. Vose took up his work listlessly, and in a moment Joe was

+walking to first on four balls. A minute later he had stolen second.

+Motter bunted toward first, and beat the ball to base. Joe took third.

+Vose was now plainly rattled, and a wild pitch became a passed ball,

+and Motter went to second, Joe, however, fearing to attempt to score.

+Then Lowe took up the stick.

+

+Lowe bided his time, and had two strikes called on him before he swung

+his bat. When he did he found the ball fairly, and drove a terrific

+grounder into outfield between first and second bases. Joe jogged home

+from third, and Motter, his legs making a purple streak, sped like the

+wind to third. Lowe sat down on first and tied his shoe. Bissell went

+to bat, and was deceived by a drop that absolutely hit the plate. And

+right there the half ended, for Lowe tried to steal second, and was put

+out four feet from the bag.

+

+There was joy in the Erskine camp. The score stood now 3 to 1. If her

+players could hold Robinson from further scoring the day was won. And,

+with King in the pitcher's box, it seemed that it might be done. Regan

+went to bat for Robinson, and stood there idly swinging his stick while

+the umpire sang: "Strike one!... Strike two!... Striker's out!" And

+then, to fill Erskine's cup overflowing with delight, King struck out

+Vose and Cox in just the same way; and the cheering broke forth anew,

+loudly, triumphantly. And the ninth and last inning began with little

+Knox at the bat.

+

+It would be pleasant to relate how Knox knocked a home run and how

+Erskine continued the performance inaugurated in the preceding inning.

+Unfortunately, that is impossible. Knox was struck out, King was thrown

+out at first, Northup made a base hit, but was left there a minute

+later when Jack flied out miserably to Vose. The stands were emptying

+themselves of their throngs and supporters of the rival colleges

+crowded along the base-lines cheering doggedly or ecstatically, as the

+case might be. King picked up the ball, Joe donned his mask, Motter

+thumped his mit, and Jack, at second, danced about from one foot to

+the other out of sheer joy. Near at hand Knox was grinning like a

+schoolboy, and calling shrilly to King to "Eat 'em up, Greg!"

+

+"First man, fellows!" cried Joe cheerfully.

+

+Condit stepped to the plate. He was pale, and looked an easy victim.

+But luck turned its back upon the Purple, for at his second delivery

+King struck the Robinson catcher on the elbow, and the latter took his

+base. Robinson's friends took courage, and their cheers thundered over

+the field. Then came Hopkins, the "hard-hitter," and swung his bat

+knowingly. King realized that here was foeman worthy of steel, and was

+accordingly careful.

+

+But Hopkins was desperate. He found the second ball, and it went flying

+toward center-field. Bissell failed to reach it in time to get his

+hands on it before it struck the ground, and Hopkins gained second,

+Condit going to third. Morgan followed with a slow grounder toward

+King. King fielded it to first too late, after making sure that Condit

+was not trying to score, and the bases were full. A home run would win

+for Robinson! A two-base hit would tie the score!

+

+The brown banners flaunted and gyrated in the air, throwing strange

+dancing silhouettes upon the turf. The shadow of the western stand had

+lengthened across the infield. Back of the stand the sky was aglow with

+orange, while toward the village a golden haze filled the air.

+

+The throng at large was silent, intense, expectant. Yet here and there

+sections of the throng still shouted, and back of the dense wall of

+spectators on the Robinson side of the field the band was playing.

+A cheer, undismayed yet faint, ran along the ranks of the Erskine

+supporters. It is hard to shout when your heart is throbbing away up in

+your throat. Devlin went to bat, his determined chin thrust forth and

+his sharp eyes sparkling from between half-closed lids as he watched

+the pitcher. Joe Perkins half knelt behind him and held a big mitten

+invitingly open on his left knee.

+

+"Steady, fellows!" he called cheerfully. "Play for the plate!"

+

+His voice rang true, with never a quiver in it. Yet now and then his

+heart raced and thumped for an instant in a way that turned him half

+faint. Despite the tiny beads of perspiration that trickled down his

+face, he was livid, and the fingers in the hot leathern mit trembled

+and twitched. If he could keep those brown-legged players from crossing

+the plate the game was won for Erskine and his labors and hopes were

+crowned with success. If! He groaned as he thought of all that might

+happen ere the third man was put out. For the first time during the

+contest he was nervous; for the first time almost in memory he was

+frightened through and through. Then his gaze swept over the field and

+he saw Motter at first carelessly flipping a pebble across the grass,

+Weatherby alert and impatient at second, Northup shading his eyes with

+his hand as he stood motionless in right-field, Knox calling blithely

+to King as he slapped his hands together, and beyond, Bissell and Lowe,

+their figures throwing long, slanting shadows across the turf. Then

+King's left hand wandered carelessly across his forehead, his arms shot

+up, and Joe, reaching out, drew in the first delivery.

+

+"Strike," droned the umpire.

+

+Joe's fright passed with the settling of the sphere in his hands. The

+blood crept back into his cheeks and courage into his heart. Returning

+the ball, he eased his mask, thumped his hands together, and called

+confidently to King.

+

+"That's the eye, Greg; once more!"

+

+Erskine applauded grandly. Then followed two balls. The coaches were

+shouting like maniacs and the runners were set, like sprinters on the

+mark, ready to spring into flight on the instant. Joe signaled a drop.

+It came, and Devlin tried and missed.

+

+"Strike two," droned the little umpire.

+

+Again the supporters of the Purple shouted and waved their colors

+against the evening sky. King swept a glance about the bases, unmindful

+of the coachers' taunts, settled himself once more, and pitched.

+Devlin's body moved quickly forward, ball and bat met squarely, Devlin

+raced toward first, and the runners on the bases sprang away.

+

+Out by second, Jack, on his toes, alert and ready for anything, heard

+the _crack_ of bat against ball, and instinctively ran toward base.

+Hopkins, head down, started like a flash toward third. Then Jack's

+eyes found the ball. It was speeding toward him, straight, swift and

+well over his head. He stopped in his tracks a foot or two behind the

+base-line, threw his hands high into the air, put his weight on to his

+toes, and then sprang straight upward until there was a good two feet

+between him and the turf. To the excited watchers it seemed that for

+an instant he hung there suspended, a lithe, slim figure against the

+golden sunset haze. Then the ball stung his hands, the throng broke

+into confused shouting, and--

+

+[Illustration: Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the

+turf.]

+

+"Back! Back!" shrieked the coaches.

+

+The runners turned in their tracks and scuttled for the bases they had

+left like rabbits for their burrows. Jack, the ball securely clutched,

+reached second in two strides, and then, with a lightning survey of

+the situation, threw straight and sure to Billings at third. Condit,

+arrested ten feet from the plate by the coaches' warnings, had doubled

+back, and now was racing desperately for third base and safety. Six

+feet from the bag he launched himself forward, arms outstretched. A

+trailing cloud of red dust arose into the still air, and the ball

+thumped into the baseman's hands. The little fat umpire swung his hand

+circling toward the bases.

+

+"Game!" he said.

+

+The long ranks broke like waves, and the players were engulfed, then

+caught and tossed to the surface. Jack, rocking perilously about on the

+shoulders of comrades, looked dazedly yet happily down over a sea of

+waving purple banners and upraised, excited faces, while against his

+ears beat the thunderous refrain of "_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_"

+

+ ----------------------------------+----------------------------------

+    ERSKINE.        R. H. P. A. E. |   ROBINSON.       R. H. P. A. E.

+                                   |

+  Perkins, c.       1  1  8  2  0  | Cox, 1b.          0  3  9  0  0

+  Motter, 1b.       0  1  8  0  1  | Condit, c.        0  1 13  1  1

+  Gilberth, p.      0  0  1  2  1  | Hopkins, 3b.      0  2  0  3  0

+  Bissell, cf.      0  0  2  0  1  | Morgan, ss.       0  0  1  3  0

+  Knox, ss.         0  1  0  0  0  | Devlin, lf.       0  0  1  0  0

+  King, lf., p.     1  2  2  0  1  | Wood, cf.         0  0  0  1  0

+  Lowe, lf.         0  1  0  0  0  | Richman, 2b.      0  1  1  2  1

+  Northup, rf.      0  1  1  0  0  | Regan, rf.        1  0  1  0  0

+  Stiles, 2b.       0  0  2  1  2  | Vose, p.          0  1  1  2  1

+  Weatherby, 2b.    1  1  2  1  0  |                  -- -- -- -- --

+  Billings, 3b.     0  0  1  1  0  |   Totals          1  8 27 12  3

+                   -- -- -- -- --  |

+    Totals          3  8 27  7  6  |

+ ----------------------------------+----------------------------------

+         Erskine               0  0  0  0  0  0  0  3  0  --3

+         Robinson              0  0  0  0  0  1  0  0  0  --1

+

+    Two-Base Hits--Wood, Hopkins. Triple Play--Weatherby to

+    Billings. Bases on Balls--Off Gilberth, 3; Off Vose, 2; Off

+    King, 1. Hit by Pitched Ball--Northup (2), Condit. Struck

+    Out--By Gilberth, 8; By King, 3; By Vose, 13. Sacrifice

+    Hits--Knox, Richman, Regan. Umpire--Cantrell. Time of

+    Game--2.40. Attendance--4,000.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXIV

+

+WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+

+"Good morning, Mr. Tidball!"

+

+Anthony, making his way briskly down Main Street, raised his head

+at the greeting, and glanced across the street. Professor White,

+immaculate in his Sunday attire of black frock coat, gray trousers,

+and silk hat, was picking his way gingerly between the little puddles

+left by the night's shower. Anthony returned the salutation, and waited

+for the other to join him. Then they went on together down the quiet

+street in the shade of the elms. The village seemed deserted. It was an

+hour after noon, and staid, respectable Centerport was dining on all

+the indigestible luxuries that comprise the New England Sunday dinner.

+As for the college--well, the college was at the depot awaiting the

+arrival of the 2.12 train.

+

+"Going down to welcome the victors?" asked the professor gaily.

+

+"Yes," answered Anthony. "And I guess you are too. Sort of late, aren't

+we?"

+

+He produced his big gold watch, removed it tenderly from its pouch,

+and saw that it announced eight minutes after the hour. The professor

+nodded, and they mended their pace.

+

+"You didn't go down, did you?" asked the latter.

+

+"No, I wanted to, but couldn't afford it. But we got the news at

+Butler's by innings. We had quite a celebration all to ourselves before

+the rest of you got home."

+

+"Didn't keep you from taking a hand in the bonfire last night, though,

+did it?" laughed the professor.

+

+"No, I guess every one went out to the field. It must have been an

+interesting game, professor."

+

+"It was. But it was rather conducive to heart-disease toward the end.

+We came pretty near to being outplayed, and a good deal nearer to

+being beaten. When Robinson had the bases full in the ninth and their

+left-fielder rapped out that liner--well, I shut my eyes and held my

+breath! I didn't see Weatherby make his catch; when I looked he was

+throwing to third. Well, it was great, simply great!"

+

+"Yes, but I didn't quite understand what it was Jack did. If he hadn't

+caught the ball the other chaps would have made three runs, isn't that

+it?"

+

+"Well, two runs anyway, three probably; you see, the bases were full,

+and that hit was good for a two-bagger, I think, if Weatherby hadn't

+got his hands on it. It was a hot one, too, and 'way over his head.

+As it was, he put out the batsman by catching the ball, tagged second

+before the runner from that base could get back, and then threw to

+third and put out the man there. You see, a runner is required to hold

+his base until a fly has either been caught or has touched the ground.

+Well, Robinson thought Devlin's hit was a safe one; it surely looked

+like it; and every one ran. Then when Weatherby caught it they had to

+get back to their bases; but they couldn't. Condit was almost home. It

+was very pretty. Triple plays like that have been made before, but they

+don't happen very often. And then the difficulty of Weatherby's catch

+added to the brilliancy of the thing. Well, he'll be a hero now as long

+as yesterday's game is remembered."

+

+"I'm mighty glad," said Anthony quietly. "Jack's had sort of a hard

+time of it, take it all 'round. I'm glad things look better for next

+year."

+

+"Oh, he can have pretty near anything he wants after this," laughed

+the professor. "I'm quite as well pleased as you are, Tidball. There's

+one thing, however--" He hesitated. "We can't get around the fact that

+Weatherby's been largely to blame for his own unhappiness, Tidball.

+We're both friends of his, and we can afford to recognize the truth. It

+was his duty, to himself and more especially to others, to put himself

+right. He should have explained why he apparently made no effort to

+go to the rescue of that boy in the river. It looked bad; I saw the

+whole thing, and to all appearances it was just a case of cowardice.

+I was mistaken; and I said what was in my mind, which was a still

+greater mistake. But don't you see, Tidball, he should have spoken up

+and said that he couldn't swim. None would have blamed him then. He

+had no right to allow others to misjudge him. Then, too, his attitude

+wasn't of the kind to attract friends to him. From what I can make out

+he appears to have taken umbrage because the fellows didn't seek him

+and make his acquaintance when he first came, and subsequently repelled

+every advance by his apparent indifference and self-sufficiency. It

+was--unfortunate."

+

+"Yes, I guess you're right. But I can't altogether blame Jack, for I

+know just how sensitive he is. Sometime he'll get over it, but it's

+something you can't change at once. Wasn't that the whistle?"

+

+"I didn't hear anything, but if you like we'll sprint a bit."

+

+And they did, reaching the station just as the train rolled in, and

+the victorious baseball team and attendants descended into the dense

+throng of students to an accompaniment of wild cheers. For a moment

+the players were swallowed from sight. Then they came into view again

+on the shoulders of privileged friends, and were borne to the three

+hacks that were to take them in triumph up to the college. Jack caught

+a brief glimpse of Anthony's tall form as he was borne, swaying and

+bobbing, across the platform, and waved a hand to him. Then, with the

+cheering crowd jostling and shoving about the carriages, the journey

+was begun.

+

+Jack found himself in the second of the hacks, sandwiched between

+Billings and Knox. Facing them, on the front seat, sat King, Motter,

+and Showell. As they turned into the Square, the horses prancing

+excitedly because of the crowd and the noise, Jack caught a glimpse

+of the carriage ahead and of Joe Perkins leaning out to shake hands

+with the nearest of his admirers. There was no attempt at conversation

+between Jack and his companions. Even had the tumult allowed it they

+were all too sleepy and tired to talk much.

+

+Training had ended for the season with the ending of the game. They had

+remained in Collegetown as Robinson's guests, and had been dined, and,

+later, had attended a performance at the little Opera House in company

+with their hosts. After that they had returned to the hotel, assembled

+in Joe's room, and chosen a new captain. The honor had fallen to King.

+There had been no dissenting voice. King, although only a junior next

+year, was already a veteran player, having captained his school team

+before coming to Erskine, and having played two years with the varsity.

+Jack was pleased. He liked King better than any of the fellows who

+would be eligible for the next year's nine. And King, he believed,

+liked him.

+

+Jack forgot the cheers and the singing and the enthusiastic throngs

+that filled the sidewalks and almost surrounded the carriage, and

+closing his eyes, leaned back and gave himself over to thought. In

+three days the term would come to an end, and he would go home for the

+summer, a summer which promised to be one of the pleasantest of his

+life. Anthony was to visit him in July for a week, and later, if all

+went well, he was to spend a few days in Jonesboro, and finish his

+natational education with surf bathing. Then, in September, Erskine

+once more. But what a difference there would be! He would return to

+college to find fellows not merely willing but eager to claim his

+acquaintance, to call him friend. The stigma of cowardice would no

+longer be placed upon him; rather he would be looked upon as a hero,

+as the one who had saved the college from defeat.

+

+Already he had tasted the intoxicating draft of popularity. Ever since

+the crowd had poured on to the field the day before he had never for an

+instant been allowed to forget that the college looked upon him as one

+whom it was a pleasure to honor. The time when he had read "Coward!" in

+each averted face seemed very dim and far. And yet the vindication of

+which he had dreamed then, a vindication of his physical courage, had

+not come. Well, perhaps next year----

+

+He came to earth with a start. King had leaped to his feet, and was

+staring excitedly down the street. The tumult had changed from joyous

+cheers to cries of alarm. The crowd about the carriage was frantically

+struggling toward the sidewalks and above its voice sounded the

+pounding of hoofs on the hard road. Jack turned and looked. Behind

+them, sweeping down the narrow street between the fleeing throngs,

+swayed the third hack, the horses, frightened beyond control, plunging

+forward with outstretched heads. On the box the driver tugged vainly

+at the lines and shouted warnings to the crowd. A moment or two and a

+collision was inevitable.

+

+Their own driver had heard and seen; the hack sprang forward, and King

+tumbled into Jack's arms. At the same instant Showell struggled to his

+feet with pale, drawn face, and, with an inarticulate groan of terror,

+threw open the carriage door and leaped blindly into the road. Over and

+over he rolled in the path of the oncoming team. Jack pushed King from

+him, and in a moment was balancing himself on the sill, clinging to

+the woodwork beside him. Some one strove to get by him, and he pushed

+him back.

+

+"Stay where you are," he shouted.

+

+Then he jumped.

+

+As he did so he saw dimly the crowd crushing back against the shops,

+panic-stricken, struggling for safety. He landed and kept his feet, and

+even before the momentum had passed had swung himself about, and was

+racing back down the street toward the motionless form of Showell and

+the plunging horses. As he ran there was no fear in his heart; rather

+an exultant consciousness of power; here was the opportunity to wipe

+out forever the stigma of cowardice.

+

+"It's my inning at last!" he thought gladly.

+

+If it has taken long in the telling, yet in the doing it was the matter

+of a moment. He reached the inert body of Showell, and, with desperate

+strength, sent it rolling toward the sidewalk. Then the horses were

+upon him. With a gasp for breath he leaped forward, arms outstretched,

+as it seemed into the path of death.

+

+[Illustration: With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.]

+

+But brief as had been his moment of preparation, he had not misjudged.

+His clutching hands caught at rein and mane, and he was swept off his

+feet and borne onward. Then his left hand found a place beside the

+right, and with all his weight back of the bit and the horse's hoofs

+grazing his legs at every plunge, he clung there desperately with

+closed eyes. For an instant there was no diminishment of the pace; then

+the horse's head came down, and Jack's feet again touched earth. Plunge

+after plunge followed; a confusion of cries and cheers filled his ears;

+the team veered to the left, and his feet felt the sidewalk beneath

+them. There was a crash as the heavy pole splintered against one of

+the granite posts of the college fence, and Jack, striking violently

+against something that drove the last breath from his body, loosed his

+hold and fell backward into darkness.

+

+       *       *       *       *       *

+

+When he opened his eyes again, a minute later, he was lying, weak,

+shaken, and gasping, just inside the fence, his swimming head supported

+on the knee of Professor White. About him excited yet kindly faces

+looked down, while on the sidewalk the trembling horses were being

+unharnessed from the carriage. He strove to sit up, but the professor

+restrained him.

+

+"Hurt, Weatherby?" he asked.

+

+Jack stretched himself carefully, shook his head, and struggled into a

+sitting posture.

+

+"No," he gasped, "all right; breath--knocked out--that's all."

+

+"Well, sit still a minute." Jack obeyed, and closed his eyes. About

+him were low voices and whispers, and his name being repeated over and

+over. Then he became aware of a sudden commotion, and opened his eyes

+to see Anthony pushing his way through the ring.

+

+"I found him," he gasped. "He's coming right over. How is he?" He

+dropped to his knees at Jack's side, sending an anxious glance at the

+professor.

+

+"Nothing broken; just out of breath."

+

+Anthony seized Jack's hand and held it tightly, his broad mouth working

+yet unable to voice his words. Jack grinned up into his face.

+

+"You're a sight, Anthony," he said. "You've gone and lost your specs.

+Help me up." The professor nodded. Anthony seized him about the

+shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Jack tried his legs tentatively,

+and found them apparently sound. Then he turned to Anthony.

+

+"Showell?" he asked anxiously.

+

+"He's all right, Jack; just stunned a bit from the fall."

+

+"Take him over to his room, Tidball," said Professor White. "I'll send

+the doctor when he comes."

+

+The throng made way for them. As they passed through, Anthony

+supporting Jack as carefully as though the latter were a basket of

+eggs, the crowd found its voice. Jack glanced into some of the faces

+and read therein a new respect and liking. He dropped his eyes, the

+color flooding into his cheeks, and hurried on. The throng grew

+momentarily. In front it broke and parted, and Joe Perkins and Tracy

+Gilberth confronted them.

+

+"All right, Jack?" panted Joe.

+

+"Of course I am," Jack muttered sheepishly.

+

+"All right, then. Up you go, old man!" Before he could resist he found

+himself on the shoulders of Anthony and Joe, with Tracy supporting him

+behind.

+

+"Let me down, you idiots!" he pleaded.

+

+But they paid no heed. The individual voicing of approval suddenly

+merged into a confused cheering that grew and grew in volume until

+Jack's remonstrances were drowned beneath it. He clung to Anthony's

+head, and tried to look as though he didn't mind, and only succeeded

+in looking like a thief on the way to the stocks. Of late, he silently

+marveled, he seemed to be continually swaying about on fellows'

+shoulders!

+

+Near the museum the chaos of sound took form and substance, and Jack,

+still somewhat confused and dizzy, found that he was bobbing along in

+time to the loud, deep, and measured refrain of "_Weatherby! Weatherby!

+Weatherby!_"

+

+

+THE END

+

+

+

+

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+

+

+

+ Transcriber's Notes:

+

+ --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).

+

+ --Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to

+   follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the

+   illustration may not match the page number in the List of

+   Illustrations.

+

+ --Printer, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently

+   corrected.

+

+ --Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.

+

+ --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.

+

+ --The Author's em-dash and long dash styles have been retained.

+

+

+

+

+

+

+End of Project Gutenberg's Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

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+<pre>

+

+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

+

+

+Title: Weatherby's Inning

+       A Story of College Life and Baseball

+

+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+Illustrator: C. M. Relyea

+

+Release Date: March 15, 2014 [EBook #45142]

+

+Language: English

+

+Character set encoding: UTF-8

+

+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEATHERBY'S INNING ***

+

+

+

+

+Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed

+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

+

+

+

+

+

+

+</pre>

+

+

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;">

+<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" height="666"

+     alt="cover" title="cover" />

+</div>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<p class="noic">WEATHERBY’S INNING</p>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<div class="adbox">

+<p class="noic adtitle">BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.</p>

+

+<p class="noic">Each, 12mo, Cloth, Illustrated.</p>

+

+<hr class="r30" />

+

+<p class="noi hang"><span class="adauthor">Weatherby’s Inning.</span><br />

+Illustrated in Colors. $1.20 net; postage,

+12 cents additional.</p>

+

+

+<p class="hang"><span class="adauthor">Behind the Line.</span><br />

+A Story of School and Football. $1.20

+net; postage, 12 cents additional.</p>

+

+

+<p class="hang"><span class="adauthor">Captain of the Crew.</span><br />

+$1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.</p>

+

+

+<p class="hang"><span class="adauthor">For the Honor of the School.</span><br />

+A Story of School Life and Interscholastic

+Sport. $1.50.</p>

+

+

+<p class="hang"><span class="adauthor">The Half-Back.</span><br />

+A Story of School, Football, and Golf.

+$1.50.</p>

+

+<hr class="r30" />

+

+<p class="noic">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p>

+</div>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 394px;">

+<a name="image01" id="image01">

+  <img src="images/image01.jpg" width="394" height="600"

+       alt="Perkins was speeding for second."

+       title="Perkins was speeding for second." />

+</a><br />

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_171">Perkins was speeding for second.</a></div>

+</div>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<h1>WEATHERBY’S INNING</h1>

+

+<p class="noi subtitle">A Story of College<br />

+Life and Baseball</p>

+

+<p class="p2 noic">BY</p>

+

+<p class="noi author">RALPH HENRY BARBOUR</p>

+

+<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF BEHIND THE LINE,<br />

+THE HALF-BACK, ETC.</p>

+

+<p class="p2 noic"><i>Illustrated by C. M. Relyea</i></p>

+

+<div class="pad2">

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 146px;">

+<img src="images/image02.jpg" width="146" height="284"

+     alt="title page illustration"

+     title="title page illustration" />

+</div>

+</div>

+

+<p class="noic">New York<br />

+D. Appleton and Company<br />

+1903</p>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<p class="noic"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1903<br />

+By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</span></p>

+

+

+<p class="p4 noi"><i>Published September, 1903</i></p>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<p class="noic">TO</p>

+

+<p class="noic"><span class="noi author">ALFRED LOUIS BAURY</span><br />

+AGED ELEVEN</p>

+

+<p class="noic">YOUNGEST AND MOST LENIENT<br />

+OF CRITICS</p>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>

+

+

+<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents">

+<col style="width: 20%;" />

+<col style="width: 70%;" />

+<col style="width: 10%;" />

+<tr>

+  <th class="pr smfontr">CHAPTER</th>

+  <th class="tdl"></th>

+  <th class="smfontr">PAGE</th>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">I.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">Coward!</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">1</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">II.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">An interruption</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">11</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">III.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Mr. Tidball introduces himself</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">19</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">IV.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">Catcher and pitcher</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">30</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">V.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">An encounter in the yard</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">39</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">VI.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">In disgrace</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">47</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">VII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">At the batting nets</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">57</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">VIII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">The last straw</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">68</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">IX.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Anthony studies a time-table</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">80</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">X.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">Flight</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">94</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XI.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Anthony makes a statement</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">106</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">A fly to left-fielder</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">120</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XIII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Joe is pessimistic</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">127</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XIV.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">The mass-meeting</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">139</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XV.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Anthony on baseball</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">148</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XVI.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Jack courts the muse</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">156</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XVII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">Erskine <i>vs.</i> Harvard</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">167</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XVIII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Jack at second</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">176</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XIX.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Anthony tells a secret</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">184</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XX.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">Stolen property</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">194</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XXI.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">Off to Collegetown</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">203</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XXII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">At the end of the sixth</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">213</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XXIII.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">A triple play</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">223</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="pt tdrt">XXIV.&mdash;</td>

+  <td class="pt tdl smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Weatherby’s inning</a></td>

+  <td class="pt tdrb">239</td>

+</tr>

+</table>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></p>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>

+

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Illustrations">

+<tr>

+  <th>&nbsp;</th>

+  <th>&nbsp;</th>

+  <th class="smfontr">FACING<br />PAGE</th>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#image01">Perkins was speeding for second.</a></td>

+  <td class="tdrb"><i>Frontispiece</i></td>

+  <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#image03">He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.</a></td>

+  <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  <td class="tdrb">7</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#image05">Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.</a></td>

+  <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  <td class="tdrb">47</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#image06">“What’s wrong, Weatherby?”</a></td>

+  <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  <td class="tdrb">99</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#image07">Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf.</a></td>

+  <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  <td class="tdrb">238</td>

+</tr>

+<tr>

+  <td class="tdl"><a href="#image08">With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.</a></td>

+  <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  <td class="tdrb">246</td>

+</tr>

+</table>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<p class="noi title">WEATHERBY’S INNING</p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br />

+<small>COWARD!</small></h2>

+

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+

+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">University Baseball.</span>&mdash;All men who wish

+to try for the team report in the cage on

+Monday, February 25th, at 3.30 sharp.</p>

+

+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Jos. L. Perkins</span>, <i>Capt.</i><br /></p>

+</div>

+

+<p>Jack Weatherby, on his way out of the gymnasium,

+paused before the bulletin-board in the little drafty

+hall and read the call.</p>

+

+<p>“That’s next Monday,” he muttered. “All right,

+I’ll be there.”</p>

+

+<p>Then, putting a shoulder against the big oak door,

+he pushed his way out on to the granite steps and stood

+there a moment in scowling contemplation of the cheerless

+scene. Before him the board-walk was almost

+afloat in a shallow rivulet of melted snow that filled

+the gravel-path from side to side. A few steps away

+the path ended at the Washington Street gate in a

+veritable lake. The crossing was inches deep in water<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span>

+and the Common was a dismal waste of pools and

+streams out of which the soldiers’ monument reared

+itself as though agonizedly searching for a dry spot

+to which to move. There was an incessant and

+monotonous dripping and trickling and gurgling as the

+snow, which two days before had covered the ground

+to a depth of over a foot, disappeared as by magic under

+the breath of an unseasonable south wind. The sky

+was leaden and lowering, and against it the bare

+branches of the numberless elm-trees swayed complainingly.

+The Common and so much of the college

+grounds as was in sight were deserted. Altogether it

+was a dispiriting prospect that met Jack’s eyes, and

+one little likely to aid him in the task of fighting the

+“blues,” which had oppressed him all day.</p>

+

+<p>He went listlessly down the steps, heroically striving

+to whistle a tune. But the tune had died out ere

+the sidewalk was reached. He looked with misgiving

+from the crossing to his shoes&mdash;shoes which even when

+new had been scarcely adapted to wet weather&mdash;and

+after a moment of hesitation gave up the idea of taking

+the usual short cut across the Common, and went on

+down Washington Street. As he began to pick his way

+gingerly across the wet pavement at the corner of Elm

+Street, two men ran down the steps of a boarding-house.

+They were talking in high, excited tones, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span>

+Jack could hear them until they had gone some distance

+toward the railroad.</p>

+

+<p>“The water’s away up to the road, they say,” one

+of them declared loudly, “and it’s still rising. They’re

+afraid the bridge’ll go. There’s a lot of ice coming

+down.”</p>

+

+<p>“Should think it might go,” said the other. “The

+old thing looks as though you could push it over if you

+tried.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, don’t it? Let’s get a move on. We had a

+flood once up home that&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>Then a heavy gust of wind, sweeping around the

+corner of the tumble-down livery-stable, drowned the

+conversation. Jack paused and silently weighed the

+respective attractions of a dark and not overcomfortable

+room in the green-shuttered house a few steps

+away, and a swollen river which might, if there was

+any such thing as good luck&mdash;which he had begun to

+doubt&mdash;sweep away the tottering old wooden bridge.

+Well, his feet were already wet, and so&mdash; He retraced

+his steps to the corner and went on down Washington

+Street in the wake of the others. They were a block

+or so ahead, splashing their thick boots through all

+kinds of puddles. They were evidently the best of

+friends, for one kept his hand on the other’s shoulder.

+Once the prankish wind bore a scrap of merry laughter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>

+up the street, and Jack, plodding along behind, wary

+of puddles, as befits a fellow who is wearing his only

+pair of winter shoes, heard it and felt gloomier and

+more forlorn than ever.</p>

+

+<p>He wondered what it was like to have real friends

+and a chum; to be well known and liked. He had

+come to Erskine College in September fully expecting

+such things to fall to his share. But he had been there

+five months now and during that time his life had

+been very lonely. At first he had tried to make friends

+in a diffident way. Perhaps he had tried with the

+wrong men; perhaps his manner had been against him;

+the result had been discouraging, and after a while,

+smarting under what to his oversensitive feelings

+seemed rebuffs, he had ceased looking for friends and

+had retired into a shell of pessimism and injured pride,

+masking his loneliness under simulated indifference.

+Since then he had undoubtedly lost many a chance to

+find the companionship he craved; but he had learned

+his lesson, he told himself bitterly, and so he rejected

+advances as though they were the deadliest of insults.</p>

+

+<p>He didn’t look the least bit like a misanthrope. He

+was seventeen years old, large for his age, lithe, muscular

+and healthy-looking, as is proper in a boy who

+has never been pampered, with a face which even at

+the present moment, in spite of the expression of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>

+settled bitterness that marred it, was eminently attractive.

+His eyes were well apart and gray in color; his

+hair was light brown, and his mouth, which of late had

+formed the unfortunate habit of wearing a little supercilious

+sneer in public, looked generous and honest, and,

+with the firmly rounded chin beneath, suggested force

+and capability. On the whole he was a clean-cut,

+manly-looking boy to whom fortune, you would have

+said, owed much.</p>

+

+<p>When Jack Weatherby reached the river he found

+that the report of its depredations was not exaggerated.

+To be sure, River Street was still above water, but

+the flood was well over the bank in places, and farther

+along, in front of the coal-yards, several of the

+wharves were awash. The broad stream, usually a

+quiet, even sluggish body, was sending up a new sound,

+a low, threatening roar which, without his having realized

+it, had reached Jack’s ears long before he had

+sighted the river.</p>

+

+<p>He wormed his way through the crowd of townfolk

+that lined the street, and, passing through an

+empty coal-pocket, found himself on a spray-drenched

+string-piece a foot above the water. To his right and

+left piers ran some distance into the river. They were

+untenanted. But beyond them the open spaces used by

+the coal company as storage ground for wagons were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>

+black with watchers. A short way off was the bridge,

+a low, wooden structure connecting Centerport with the

+little village of Kirkplain across the river. Jack was

+on the up-stream side of the bridge and could see the

+havoc that the drifting ice was making with the worn

+spiling and hear the crashing and grinding as cake

+after cake was hurled and jammed against it. Several

+of the supports were already broken, and the entrance

+to the bridge was barred with a rope and guarded by

+a member of Centerport’s small police force.</p>

+

+<p>Jack drew back as far as he could from the edge of

+the beam and with his shoulders against the boards

+of the big bin watched in strange fascination the black,

+angry water rushing past. It frightened and repelled

+him, and yet he found it difficult to remove his gaze.

+For as long as he could remember he had been afraid of

+water. Once, when he was only five years old, he had

+fallen into the brook that crossed his father’s farm

+and had almost drowned before his mother, hastening

+after the runaway, had dragged him out. His recollection

+of the escapade was very hazy, but it had left

+him with a dread of water that was almost a mania.

+All efforts to combat it had proved futile. He had

+never learned to swim, and had never in all his life

+trusted himself in a boat. And yet, as a boy, he had

+devoured ravenously all the stories of the sea he could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>

+lay hands on, and had shuddered over shipwrecks and

+similar disasters, at once repelled and fascinated.</p>

+

+<p>Suddenly his contemplation of the river was disturbed

+by shouts of alarm from up-stream. With an

+effort he withdrew his gaze from the water and looked

+in the direction of the cries. At that instant, around

+the corner of the pier to his right, floated something that

+thrashed the water wildly and sent up shrill appeals

+for help. After the first second of bewilderment Jack

+saw that it was a boy of thirteen or fourteen years.

+The white face, horribly drawn with terror, turned

+toward him, and, for an instant, the frightened, staring

+eyes looked into his. Jack sickened and groped blindly

+for support. A trick of the current shot the struggling

+body into the little harbor afforded by the two

+piers, almost at his feet. In his ears was a meaningless

+babel of shouts and in his heart an awful fear.

+<a href="#image03">He leaned back</a> with outstretched hands <a href="#image03">clinging to the

+planks behind him</a> and closed his eyes to avoid the sight

+of the appealing face below. Then, with a gasp, he

+sank to his knees, seized the string-piece with one hand,

+and with the other reached downward. But he was

+too late. The current, sweeping out again, had already

+borne the boy beyond reach. There was a final

+despairing shriek, then the arms ceased to struggle and

+the eddies closed over the body. Jack joined his voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>

+impotently with the others and looked wildly about for

+a plank or a rope&mdash;anything that he could throw into

+the water. But there was nothing. Sick and dizzy he

+subsided against the timbers.</p>

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;">

+<a name="image03" id="image03">

+  <img src="images/image03.jpg" width="392" height="600"

+       alt="He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him."

+       title="He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him." />

+<br /></a>

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_7">He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.</a></div>

+</div>

+

+<p>Then, just at the corner of the down-stream wharf,

+the body came to the surface again, the eyes sightless,

+the lips silent. And, almost too late, came

+help.</p>

+

+<p>Jack, leaning near the opening in the coal-bin, felt

+rather than saw some one push by him. The rescuer, a

+man several years Jack’s senior, had discarded his coat

+and vest, and now, stooping and placing a hand lightly

+on the string-piece, he dropped into the water. A half

+dozen strokes took him to the end of the pier, and just

+as the drowning boy was again sinking he caught him.

+Turning, he struck out toward Jack, swimming desperately

+against the swirling current. For a minute

+it was difficult work; then he reached stiller water, and

+Jack, leaning over the edge, stretched forth eager hands

+to help. But ere he could do so he was pushed aside,

+narrowly saving himself from pitching head foremost

+into the water, and a middle-aged man, whom Jack a

+moment later saw to be Professor White, relieved the

+rescuer of his burden.</p>

+

+<p>By that time the narrow foothold along the edge

+of the river was thronged with students and townfolk.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span>

+Quickly the apparently lifeless body was borne past

+them through the yard and into a small office. Jack,

+trembling in every limb, followed. But near the door

+he suddenly became aware of a hostile atmosphere.

+The crowd, which had grown every minute, were observing

+him curiously, contemptuously, muttering and

+whispering. The blood rushed into his face and then

+receded, leaving it deathly pale. For a moment he

+faced them. Then a small boy somewhere on the edge

+of the throng sent up a shrill cry:</p>

+

+<p>“That’s him! That’s the feller that didn’t make

+no try ter save him! ’Fraid of wettin’ his feet, he

+was!”</p>

+

+<p>Jack looked about him and read in the faces that

+confronted him only merciless condemnation. Something

+in his throat hurt him and refused to be dislodged.

+With head up he turned and made his way through the

+crowd, the old sneer on his lips. But there was worse

+in store. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to

+find Professor White beside him.</p>

+

+<p>“What’s your name?” asked the professor sternly.</p>

+

+<p>“Weatherby, sir,” muttered Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Are you a student?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, sir.”</p>

+

+<p>“What class?”</p>

+

+<p>“Six.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>The professor looked at him searchingly, then

+dropped the hand from his shoulder.</p>

+

+<p>“I find that hard to believe,” he said contemptuously.

+“I didn’t think we had any cowards here at

+Erskine!”</p>

+

+<p>He turned away, and Jack, after a moment of hesitation,

+a moment in which his first inclination to protest

+against the injustice of the verdict was drowned in a

+sudden dumbing surge of anger, made his way out

+of the throng and stumbled back to his room through

+the gathering twilight.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br />

+<small>AN INTERRUPTION</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Erskine College, at Centerport, is not large. Like

+many another New England college its importance lies

+rather in its works than in wealth or magnificence. Its

+enrolment in all departments at the time of which I

+write was about 600. I am not going to describe the

+college, it would take too long; and besides, it has been

+done very frequently and very well, and if the reader,

+after studying <a href="#image04">the accompanying plan</a>, which is reproduced

+with the kind permission of the authorities, feels

+the need of further description, I would respectfully

+refer him to Balcom’s Handbook of Erskine (photographically

+illustrated) and May’s History of Erskine

+College. And if in connection with these he examines

+the annual catalogue he will know about all there is to

+be known of the subject.</p>

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 407px;">

+<a name="image04" id="image04">

+  <img src="images/image04.jpg" width="407" height="600"

+       alt="PLAN OF ERSKINE COLLEGE AND THE TOWN OF CENTERPORT - 1901"

+       title="PLAN OF ERSKINE COLLEGE AND THE TOWN OF CENTERPORT - 1901" />

+</a><br />

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_11">PLAN OF ERSKINE COLLEGE AND THE TOWN OF CENTERPORT</a><br />

+1901</div>

+</div>

+

+<p>Leaving Washington Street and going west on Elm

+Street, he will find, facing the apex of the Common,

+a small white frame cottage profusely adorned with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>

+blinds of a most vivid green. That is Mrs. Dorlon’s.

+It is by far the tiniest of the many boarding- and lodging-houses

+that line the outer curve of Elm Street, and,

+as might be supposed, its rooms are few and not commodious.

+Mrs. Dorlon, a small, middle-aged widow,

+with a perpetual cold in the head, reserves the lower

+floor for her own use and rents the two up-stairs rooms

+to students. Between these second-floor apartments

+there is little to choose. The western one gets the

+afternoon sunlight, while the one on the other side of

+the hall gets none. To make up for this, however, the

+eastern room is, or was, at the time of my story, the

+proud possessor of a register, supposed, somewhat erroneously,

+to conduct warm air into the apartment;

+while the western room, to use the language of Mrs.

+Dorlon, was “het by gas.”</p>

+

+<p>Aside from these differences, apparent rather than

+real, the two chambers were similar. In each there was

+a strip of narrow territory in which it was possible to

+stand upright, flanked on either side by abruptly sloping

+ceilings whose flaking expanses were broken by

+dormer-windows, admitting a little light and a deal of

+cold. It was the eastern room that Jack Weatherby

+at present called home, a feat which implied the possession

+of a great deal of imagination on his part. For

+when, having escaped the hostile throng by the river<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>

+and made his way up Washington into Elm Street, and

+so to the house with the painfully green blinds, the

+room in which he found himself didn’t look the least bit

+in the world like home.</p>

+

+<p>The iron cot-bed, despite its vivid imitation Bagdad

+covering, failed to deceive the beholder into mistaking

+it for a Turkish divan. The faded and threadbare ingrain

+carpet, much too small to cover the floor, was of

+a chilly, inhospitable shade of blue. The occupant had

+made little attempt at decoration, partly because the

+amount of wall space adapted to pictures was extremely

+limited, partly because from the first the cheerless ugliness

+of the room discouraged him. The green-topped

+study table near the end window was a sorry piece of

+furniture. Former users had carved cabalistic designs

+into the walnut rim and adorned the imitation leather

+covering with even more mysterious figures; there were

+evidences, too, of overturned ink-bottles. A yellow-grained

+wardrobe beside the door leaned wearily against

+the supporting angle of the ceiling.</p>

+

+<p>The brightest note in the room was a patent rocker

+upholstered in vivid green and yellow Brussels carpet.

+If we except a walnut book-shelf hanging beside the end

+window and a wash-stand jammed under one dormer,

+the enumeration of the furnishings is complete. Even

+on days when the sun shone against the white gable of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>

+the next house, the apartment could scarcely be called

+cheerful, and this afternoon with the evening shadows

+closing down and the wind whipping the branches of the

+elms outside and buffeting the house until it creaked

+complainingly, the room was forlorn to a degree.</p>

+

+<p>After slamming the door behind him Jack tossed

+aside his cap, and subsiding into the rocker stretched

+his legs and stared miserably through the window into

+a swaying world of gray branches and darkening sky.

+The overmastering anger that had sent him striding

+home as though pursued dwindled away and left in its

+place a loneliness and discouragement that hurt like a

+physical pain. Things had been bad before, he thought,

+but now, branded in public a coward and despised by

+his fellows, life would be unbearable! He pictured the

+glances of contempt that would meet him on the morrow

+in hall and yard, or wherever he went, and

+groaned. He recalled the professor’s biting words:

+“I didn’t think we had any cowards here at Erskine!”

+and clenched his hands in sudden overmastering rage.

+The injustice of it maddened him. Would Professor

+White, he asked himself, have gone into the river after

+the drowning boy if, like himself, he were unable to

+swim a stroke and sickened at the mere thought of

+contact with the icy flood?</p>

+

+<p>Presently his thoughts reverted to the morrow and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>

+the punishment he must undergo. His courage

+faltered, and the alternative, that of packing his few

+things there and then and leaving college by an early

+train in the morning, seemed the only course possible.

+Well, he would do it. It would mean disappointment

+to his parents and a loss of money they could ill afford.

+To him it would mean five months of study wasted.

+But better that than staying on there despised and

+ridiculed, to be pointed out behind his back as The

+Coward.</p>

+

+<p>With a gasp he leaped to his feet, his cheeks tingling

+and his eyes moist with sudden tears. The room

+was in darkness. He fumbled over the desk until he

+found the match-box. When the gas was lighted he

+remembered the condition of his feet, and drawing a

+chair before the register he removed his wet shoes and

+placed them against the warm grating that they might

+dry overnight. His battered silver watch showed the

+time to be a few minutes before six. He found dry

+socks, and drawing them over his chilled feet donned

+a pair of carpet slippers. Then he washed for supper,

+bathing his flushed face over and over, and got back into

+his coat just as a weak-voiced bell below summoned the

+small household to the evening meal. As he went out he

+noted with surprise that the door of the opposite room

+was ajar, allowing a streak of light to illumine the upper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>

+hall with unaccustomed radiance. The room had been

+vacant all the year, but now, evidently, Mrs. Dorlon had

+found a tenant. But the fact interested him little, for

+his mind was firmly made up, and on the morrow his

+own room would be for rent.</p>

+

+<p>When he entered the tiny dining-room Mrs. Dorlon

+and her daughter, a shy wisp of a girl some twelve or

+thirteen years of age, were already seated at the table.

+Jack muttered greetings and applied himself silently to

+the cold meat and graham bread which, with crab-apple

+jelly and weak tea, comprised the meal. But his

+hostess was plainly elated, and after a few pregnant

+snuffles the secret was out. The western chamber was

+rented!</p>

+

+<p>“And such a nice, pleasant-mannered young man

+he is,” she declared. “A Mr. Tidball, a junior. Perhaps

+you have met him?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack shook his head.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’m sure you’ll like him, and it’ll be real

+pleasant for you to have another student in the house.

+I know what it is to be alone”&mdash;she sniffed sadly&mdash;“since

+Mr. Dorlon died, and I guess you feel downright

+lonely sometimes up there. If you like I’ll introduce

+Mr. Tidball after supper?”</p>

+

+<p>The widow appeared to find a mild excitement at the

+thought, and her face fell when Jack begged off. “Not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>

+this evening, please,” he said. “I’m going to be very

+busy, Mrs. Dorlon.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, very well. I only thought&mdash;” What she

+thought he never knew, for excusing himself he pushed

+back his chair and returned to his room. As he closed

+his door he heard the new lodger whistling cheerfully

+and tunelessly across the hallway.</p>

+

+<p>He dragged a steamer trunk from under the bed,

+threw back the lid and unceremoniously hustled the

+contents on to the floor. Then he took a valise from

+the wardrobe and proceeded to pack into it what few belongings

+would serve him until he could send for his

+trunk. The latter he couldn’t take with him. In the

+first place, there was no way of getting it to the depot in

+time for the early train; in the second place, as he

+was not now able to pay Mrs. Dorlon the present

+month’s rent, he felt that he ought to leave something

+behind him as security. The prospect of going home

+raised his spirits, and he felt happier than he had for

+many months. He even hummed an air as he tramped

+busily between the wardrobe and the trunk, and the result

+was that the first knock on the door passed unheeded.

+After a moment the knock was repeated, and

+this time Jack heard it and paused in the act of spreading

+his Sunday trousers in the till and looked the consternation

+he felt. Who was it, he wondered. Perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span>

+Mrs. Dorlon come to hint about the rent; perhaps&mdash;but

+whoever it might be, Jack didn’t want his

+preparations seen. He softly closed the trunk lid and

+wished that he had locked the door. He waited silently.

+Perhaps the caller would go away. Then, as he began

+to think with relief that this had already happened, the

+knob turned, the door swung open, and a lean, spectacled

+face peered through the opening.</p>

+

+<p>“I thought maybe you didn’t hear me knock,” said

+a queer, drawling voice. “I’ve taken the room across

+the way, and as we’re going to be neighbors I thought

+I’d just step over and get acquainted.”</p>

+

+<p>The caller came in and closed the door behind him,

+casting an interested look about the shabby apartment.

+Jack, after an instant of surprise and dismay, muttered

+a few words of embarrassed greeting. As he did so he

+recognized in the odd, lanky figure at the door the hero

+of the accident at the river.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br />

+<small>MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>The caller looked to be about twenty-one or two

+years of age. He was tall, thin, and angular, and

+carried himself awkwardly. His shoulders had the

+stoop that tells of much poring over books. His

+hands and feet were large, the former knotted and ungainly.

+His face was lean, the cheeks somewhat

+sunken; the nose was large and well-shapen and the

+mouth, altogether too broad, looked good-natured and

+humorous. He wore steel-rimmed spectacles, behind

+which twinkled a pair of small, pale-blue eyes, kindly

+and shrewd. His clothes seemed at first sight to belong

+to some one very much larger; the trousers hung in

+baggy folds about his legs and his coat went down behind

+his neck exposing at least an inch of checkered

+gingham shirt.</p>

+

+<p>And yet, despite the incongruity of his appearance,

+he impressed Jack as being a person of importance, a

+man who knew things and who was capable of turning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>

+his knowledge to good account. Tidball? Where had

+he heard the name of Tidball? As he thought of it now,

+the name seemed strangely familiar. Recollecting his

+duties as host, Jack pushed forward the patent rocker.</p>

+

+<p>“Won’t you sit down?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>The visitor sank into the chair, bringing one big

+foot, loosely encased in a frayed leather slipper, on to

+one knee, and clasping it with both knotted hands quite

+as though he feared it might walk off when he wasn’t

+looking.</p>

+

+<p>“Queer sort of weather we’re having,” he drawled.

+He talked through his nose with a twang that proclaimed

+him a native of the coast. Jack concurred,

+sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the cot and wondering

+whether Tidball recognized him.</p>

+

+<p>“Mrs. Thingamabob down-stairs said you were from

+Maine. Maine’s my State. I come from Jonesboro;

+ever hear of Jonesboro?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I don’t believe so.” The visitor chuckled.</p>

+

+<p>“Never met any one who had. Guess I’m about

+the only resident of that metropolis who ever strayed

+out of it. There’s one fellow in our town, though, who

+went down to Portland once about forty years back.

+He’s looked on as quite a traveler in Jonesboro.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack smiled. “My folks live near Auburn,” he

+said.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Nice place, Auburn. By the way, my name’s Tidball&mdash;Anthony

+Z. Z stands for Zeno; guess I’m a sort

+of a Stoic myself.” The remark was lost on Jack,

+whose acquaintance with the Greek philosophers was

+still limited.</p>

+

+<p>“My name’s Weatherby,” he returned. “My first

+name’s Jack; I haven’t any middle name.”</p>

+

+<p>“You’re lucky,” answered the other. “They

+might have called you Xenophanes, you see.” Jack

+didn’t see, but he smiled doubtfully, and the visitor

+went on. “Well, now we know each other. We’re

+the only fellows in the hut and we might as well get

+together, eh? Guess I saw you this afternoon down

+at the river, didn’t I?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack flushed and nodded.</p>

+

+<p>“Thought so.” There was a moment’s silence, during

+which the visitor’s shrewd eyes studied Jack openly

+and calmly and during which all the old misery,

+forgotten for the moment, came back to the boy.

+Then&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>“Guess you can’t swim, eh?” asked the other.</p>

+

+<p>“No, not a stroke,” muttered Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Thought so,” reiterated Tidball. There was another

+silence. Then Jack said, with an uneasy laugh:</p>

+

+<p>“There’s no doubt but that you can, though.”</p>

+

+<p>“Me? Yes, I can swim like a shark. Down in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>

+Jonesboro we learn when we’re a year old. Comes

+natural to us coasters.”</p>

+

+<p>“It was lucky you were there this afternoon,” said

+Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, some one else would have gone in, I guess!”</p>

+

+<p>“He&mdash;he didn’t&mdash;he wasn’t drowned, was he?”</p>

+

+<p>“The kid? No, but plaguy near it. He’s all

+right now, I guess. Teach him a lesson.”</p>

+

+<p>“Did the bridge go?” asked Jack after a moment,

+merely to break another silence.</p>

+

+<p>“No, water was going down when I left. Guess

+I’m in the way, though, ain’t I?”</p>

+

+<p>“In the way?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes; weren’t you doing something when I came

+in? Packing a trunk or something?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, it&mdash;it doesn’t matter; there’s no hurry.”</p>

+

+<p>“Going home over Sunday?”</p>

+

+<p>“Y&mdash;yes.”</p>

+

+<p>“You’re lucky; wish I was. But don’t let me interrupt;

+go ahead and I’ll just sit here out of the way,

+if you don’t mind my staying.”</p>

+

+<p>“Not at all; I&mdash;I’m glad to have you.” And the

+odd thing about it, as Jack realized the next moment,

+was that he meant what he said. The visitor drew a

+little brier pipe from one pocket and a pouch from another.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Smoke?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>“No,” answered Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Mind if I do?”</p>

+

+<p>“Not a bit.” Tidball stuffed the bowl with tobacco

+and was soon sending long clouds of rankly smelling

+smoke into the air.</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t begin,” he advised. “It’s a mean habit;

+wastes time and money and doesn’t do you any good

+after all. Wish I didn’t.”</p>

+

+<p>“But couldn’t you break yourself of it?” asked

+Jack.</p>

+

+<p>Tidball chuckled again and blew a great mouthful

+of gray smoke toward the gaslight.</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t want to,” he answered.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh!” said Jack, puzzled.</p>

+

+<p>“Going to take your trunk?” asked the other,

+waving his pipe toward it.</p>

+

+<p>“No, just a bag. I’ll send for the trunk later.”

+Then, as he realized his mistake, the blood rushed

+into his cheeks. He looked up at Tidball and found

+that person eying him quizzically. “I&mdash;I mean&mdash;that&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“No harm done,” interrupted the visitor.

+“Thought when I came in you meant to cut and run.

+Why?”</p>

+

+<p>“Because&mdash;because I can’t stay,” answered Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>

+defiantly. “You&mdash;you were there and you saw it.

+Everybody thinks I’m a coward! Professor White

+said&mdash;said&mdash;” He choked and looked down miserably

+at his twisting fingers.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, you aren’t, are you?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack glanced up startledly.</p>

+

+<p>“Why&mdash;why&mdash;no, I’m not a coward!” he cried.</p>

+

+<p>“Didn’t think you were. You don’t look it.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack experienced a grateful warmth at the heart and

+looked shyly and thankfully at the queer, lean face

+across the room.</p>

+

+<p>“But&mdash;but they all think I am,” he muttered.</p>

+

+<p>“I wouldn’t prove them right, then, if I were

+you.”</p>

+

+<p>“Prove&mdash; What do you mean?”</p>

+

+<p>“Mean I wouldn’t run away; mean I’d stay and

+fight it out. Any one can run; takes a brave man to

+stand and fight.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh!” Jack stared wonderingly at Tidball. “I

+hadn’t thought of that.”</p>

+

+<p>“’Tisn’t too late.”</p>

+

+<p>“N&mdash;no,” answered Jack doubtfully. “You&mdash;think

+I ought to stay?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I honestly do, Weatherby. You’ve got

+nothing to be ashamed of; ’twouldn’t have done any

+good if you’d gone into the river; guess you’d been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span>

+drowned&mdash;’tother chap, too. White jumped at conclusions

+and landed wrong. Can’t much blame him,

+though. You see, the fellows here at Erskine come from

+the country, or the coast, or some small town, and swimming’s

+as natural as eating, and I guess it didn’t occur

+to them that maybe you couldn’t swim. But when they

+learn the truth of the matter&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“But they won’t know,” said Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Bound to. I’ll see White myself, and I’ll tell all

+the chaps I know; ’twon’t take long for the facts to get

+around.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’d rather you didn’t, if you don’t mind,” said

+Jack. “It’s awfully kind of you&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Didn’t what?”</p>

+

+<p>“See Professor White.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well&mdash;of course, I know you’re feeling kind of

+sore at him, Weatherby, and I don’t much blame you;

+still, there’s no use in allowing the misunderstanding

+to continue when a word or two will set things right.”</p>

+

+<p>“I don’t care what he thinks,” said Jack, bitterly.</p>

+

+<p>“All right,” replied Tidball calmly. “How about

+the others?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack studied his hands in silence for a minute. Then

+he threw back his shoulders and got up.</p>

+

+<p>“You’re mighty kind,” he said, “to want to take

+all this trouble on my account, and I’m awfully much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>

+obliged to you, but&mdash;if you don’t mind&mdash;I’d rather you

+didn’t say anything to anybody.”</p>

+

+<p>Tidball frowned.</p>

+

+<p>“Then you mean to run away?” he asked disappointedly.</p>

+

+<p>“No, I’ll stay and&mdash;and fight! Let them think

+me a coward if they like; only some day I’ll show them

+I’m not!”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s the stuff,” said the other approvingly. “I

+guess you’re making a mistake by not explaining, but&mdash;maybe

+you’ll change your mind. If you do, let me

+know.”</p>

+

+<p>“Thanks,” answered Jack, “but I sha’n’t.” He

+took up his valise and holding it upside down emptied

+the contents on to the cot. “I wish you’d tell me one

+thing,” he said.</p>

+

+<p>“All right.”</p>

+

+<p>“Did you&mdash;I mean&mdash; Well, did you just happen

+to come in, or&mdash;did you know I was&mdash;The Coward?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well,” drawled the other, smiling gently at a

+cloud of smoke, “Mrs. Thingamabob told me yesterday

+when I engaged that room that she had a very nice

+young man, a freshman named Weatherby, living with

+her. The name isn’t common, I guess, and so when I

+heard it again down at the wharf I remembered. And<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>

+I just thought I’d come in and see what silly thing you’d

+decided to do. Kind of cheeky, I guess, but that’s my

+way. Hope you’re not offended?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I’m awfully glad. If you hadn’t come I’d

+have gone away, sure as anything.”</p>

+

+<p>“Glad I came. Hope we’ll be friends. You must

+come over and see me. You won’t find things very

+palatial in my place, but there’s an extra chair, I think.

+I don’t go in much for luxuries. I was rooming in a

+place on Main Street until to-day; very comfortable

+place it was, too: folding-bed, lounge, rocking-chair, and

+a study desk with real drawers that locked&mdash;at least,

+some of them did. My roommate was a fellow named

+Gooch, from up my way. His father died a week or

+so ago, and yesterday I got a letter from him saying

+he’d have to leave college and buckle down to

+work. Couldn’t afford to keep the room alone, so

+I looked round and found this. Well, I must be

+going.”</p>

+

+<p>He pulled his long length out of the chair, and,

+producing from a chamois pouch a handsome big gold

+watch, oddly at variance with his shabby attire, held it

+nearsightedly to the dim light.</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t be in a hurry,” begged Jack. And then,

+“That’s a dandy watch you have,” he added. “May I

+see it?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Yes,” answered Tidball, holding it forth at the

+length of its chain, “it’s the only swell thing I own.

+It’s a present.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh!” said Jack. “Well, it’s a beauty. And it’s

+got a split-second attachment, too, hasn’t it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, and when you press this thing here it

+strikes the time; hear it? Guess it cost a heap of

+money.”</p>

+

+<p>“It must have. Was it a prize?”</p>

+

+<p>“Something like that. A New York fellow gave

+it to me summer before last. He came up to Jonesboro

+in a steam-yacht about a thousand feet long. Well,

+I’ve got a lot of studying to do yet.” He moved

+toward the door.</p>

+

+<p>“But why did he give it to you?” asked Jack.

+“But maybe I’m asking impertinent questions?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, no; there’s no secret about it, only&mdash; Well,

+you see, this steam-yacht man had his son with him, a

+kid of about eleven or twelve, I guess, and one day the

+kid fell out of the naphtha-launch. There was a good

+sea running, and they couldn’t get the launch about

+very well. I happened to be near there in a dory, and

+so I picked the youngster up. His daddy seemed a

+good deal tickled about it, and after he got home he

+sent this to me. That’s all. Some people seem to

+have money to burn. Well, good night. Glad to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>

+have met you. Come over and call as soon as you

+can.”</p>

+

+<p>And Anthony Z. Tidball nodded, blew a parting

+cloud of smoke in Jack’s direction, and went out, closing

+the door softly behind him.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br />

+<small>CATCHER AND PITCHER</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>“Well, it wasn’t such a bad showing, was it?”</p>

+

+<p>Joe Perkins tossed his purple cap adorned with a

+white E on to the table and threw himself among the

+cushions of the window-seat in the manner of one who

+has earned his rest. He was a jovial-looking fellow of

+medium height, rather inclined toward stoutness. His

+hair was undeniably red, and despite that his features

+were good, none would have called him handsome.

+But his blue eyes were alert and his mouth firm. He

+had the quick temper popularly believed to accompany

+red hair, but it was well under control, and Joe’s usual

+appearance was one of extreme good nature. He was

+popular, perhaps the most popular fellow in college, and

+he knew it, and was not spoiled by the knowledge. His

+friends believed in him and he believed in himself.

+Perhaps it was the latter fact that made him such a

+wonderful leader. Ever since his freshman year he had

+been among the foremost in all college affairs. Last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>

+spring, after the disastrous 7&mdash;0 baseball game with

+Robinson, the selection of Joe, whose catching had been

+a feature of the contest, as captain, was unanimous and

+enthusiastic, and the supporters of the Purple, mourning

+overwhelming defeat, felt their sorrow lightened by

+the knowledge that Joe Perkins, in accepting the office,

+had pledged himself to retrieve Erskine’s lost prestige

+on the diamond. The whole college firmly believed that

+what Joe Perkins promised he would perform.</p>

+

+<p>Joe’s companion was Tracy Gilberth. Like Joe, he

+was a senior and a member of the nine. Unlike Joe, he

+did not impress one as being particularly good-natured;

+nor did he resemble that youth in appearance. He had

+straight dark hair and black eyes. His cheeks were

+ruddy and his mouth straight and thin. He was of

+middle height and weight, and pitched the best ball

+of any man in college. In age he was a year Joe’s

+senior, being twenty-three. He had none of the other

+man’s popularity, although he was not disliked. Acquaintances

+suspected him of arrogance; in talking he

+had a tone that sounded patronizing to those not used

+to it. His parents were immensely wealthy; rumor

+credited his father with being a millionaire several times

+over. At all events, Tracy had the most luxuriously

+furnished rooms at Erskine, and spent more money than

+the rest of his class put together.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>At the present moment he was sitting in Joe’s

+Morris chair with his hands in his pockets and his golf-stockinged

+legs sprawled before him. He replied to

+Joe’s question with a negligent nod that might have

+meant either assent or denial. Joe took it to express

+the former, and continued:</p>

+

+<p>“A heap better than last year, anyhow. Thirty

+candidates at this time of year means sixty when we get

+outdoors.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, but it isn’t quantity that counts, Joe,” said

+Tracy. “Look at the sort of greenies you had to-day.

+I’ll bet there isn’t a decent player among them, outside

+of the few last-year men that were there. If I

+were captain I’d rather have fifteen good players than

+fifty would-bes.”</p>

+

+<p>“You’re an awful croaker, Tracy. For goodness’

+sake, let me be happy while I can. To-morrow I shall

+be quite ready to believe that to-day’s bunch is merely

+a lot of hopeless idiots; but this evening I am an optimist;

+I see phenomenal pitchers, star catchers, wonderful

+first-basemen, in short, an aggregation of brilliant

+players destined to wipe Robinson off the face of the

+earth. Leave me to my dreams, old man.”</p>

+

+<p>“All right; only when you wake up you’ll find

+you’ve fallen out of bed,” answered Tracy. “Have

+you heard from Hanson?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Yes, he’s coming up Wednesday to look around.”</p>

+

+<p>“I hope he’ll like what he sees,” said Tracy, grimly.

+“I suppose you saw that fellow Weatherby there

+to-day? That chap must have the sensibilities of a

+goat. Think of his having the cheek to show up in

+the cage as a baseball candidate after what happened

+Friday! Why, if I were he I wouldn’t have the courage

+to show my face outside of my room. Not a

+fellow spoke to him to-day, but he didn’t seem to mind

+a bit.”</p>

+

+<p>“I spoke to him,” said Joe.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, you had to!”</p>

+

+<p>“And I think you’re mistaken about his not caring.

+He kept a pretty stiff upper lip, but I have a hunch that

+he wasn’t happy.”</p>

+

+<p>“Happy! I should say not. If he expects to be

+happy as long as he stays at Erskine he’s going to be

+awfully fooled. The chap ought to be driven out of

+college.”</p>

+

+<p>“It’s an unfortunate affair,” answered Joe dispassionately,

+“and I don’t pretend to understand it. But

+I must confess that I’m a bit sorry for the chap. It

+may just be that there was some reason for his not

+going in after that boy. Maybe he got rattled; you

+can’t tell.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, poppycock! Maybe he was blind or asleep!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>

+Why didn’t he spunk up, then, and say something? He

+just walked off with his head in the air, as proud as

+you please, without a word. The plain fact of the

+matter is that he’s a coward clean through.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well&mdash;but if he is, why did he report to-day?

+Seems to me that took something a good deal like

+courage. He knows plaguy well what the college

+thinks of him. Great Scott, if I had been in his boots

+I’d no more have thought of coming there among all

+those fellows&mdash;&mdash;!”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s what I say. He’s got just about the same

+sensibilities as a billy-goat. I dare say he’s rather

+proud of himself. But don’t you worry, Joe, you

+won’t be troubled with him long; we’ll soon show him

+that the baseball team doesn’t want cowards. You leave

+him to us, old man.”</p>

+

+<p>“No, you don’t, Tracy; you leave him to me.

+I’m bossing this outfit, and I’m quite capable of getting

+rid of any one I don’t want. The fellow says he can

+play ball, and it’s fellows who can play ball that I’m

+after, and not life-saving heroes.”</p>

+

+<p>Tracy stared across at his friend in disgust.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I can tell you one thing, Joe, and that is

+that you’ll find that there will be lots of fellows who

+simply won’t go on to the team if you keep Weatherby;

+and one of ’em’s me!”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Nonsense,” answered the other, quite undisturbed.

+“Your precious morals aren’t going to be hurt by playing

+on the same acre of green grass as Weatherby.

+Nor by sitting at the same table with him, for that

+matter. At any rate, don’t get excited yet; it’s a

+fair guess that Weatherby doesn’t know enough about

+the game to make the team. But as long as he’s trying

+for it I won’t have him bullied.” Joe sat up suddenly

+and punched a purple and white cushion viciously.

+“I tell you candidly, old man, I’m going to turn out

+a winning team this spring, and just as long as a fellow

+plays good ball and does as he’s told, I don’t give a

+continental if he’s ostracized by the whole State! I

+gave my solemn word to Tom Higgins last year, after

+the game, that I’d win from Robinson, and I’m going

+to keep that promise!”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll never forget old Tom that day. The poor

+duffer was crying like a baby all the way back to the

+yard. ‘You’ll be captain, Joe,’ he said, ‘and you’ve

+got to promise to wipe this out. You’ve got to give

+me your word of honor, Joe.’ ‘I’ll do everything

+that I can, Tom,’ said I. And we shook hands on it.

+‘If you don’t beat them next year, Joe,’ he blubbered,

+‘I’ll come back here and I’ll lick you until you can’t

+stand. I swear I will!’ And he would, too,” laughed

+Joe.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“That’s all well enough,” answered Tracy, “but

+you don’t want to go too far, Joe; the fellows won’t

+stand everything even from you.”</p>

+

+<p>“What do you mean?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, there’s lots of ’em now who think you’ve

+made a mistake in choosing Hanson for coach; you

+know that. They say that Hanson lost everything

+when he was captain three years ago, and that year

+before last, when he coached, we lost again. They

+think you should have got a coach who had something

+to show. And now if you insist on putting it on to the

+fellows with this coward, Weatherby, you’ll have to

+look out for squalls.”</p>

+

+<p>“Good stuff!” Joe’s blue eyes sparkled, and his

+mouth set itself straightly. “I’m open to all the

+squalls that come my way. I like squalls. And when

+they’ve blown over the other chaps may be surprised

+to find that they’re a considerable distance from the

+scene of operations. Oh, no, my boy, you can’t scare

+me by talking that way! I know what the fellows said&mdash;some

+of them, that is&mdash;about my selecting Hanson,

+and I don’t give a continental. Hanson is all right.

+When he was captain here he had the poorest lot of

+players that any man ever had to contend with; anybody

+who was in college will tell you that. They

+couldn’t field and they couldn’t bat; the only thing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>

+they could do was kick; they kicked about the schedule,

+and they kicked about the amount of work they had to

+do, and they kicked about the training-table. Nobody

+on earth could have won with that team. As for year

+before last, Hanson coached and we didn’t win, I know.

+We didn’t win last year, for that matter, but nobody

+lays the blame on the coach. Hanson is all right. He

+knows the game all through; he’s a gentleman, and

+he gives every minute of his time to the team. The

+best judge of whether what I say is true is ‘Baldy’

+Simson. You go and ask ‘Baldy,’ and if he doesn’t

+tell you the same thing I’ll eat my hat. And when

+you hear a trainer say that a coach is all right, there’s

+something in it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, well, I don’t know much about it myself!

+I’m only saying what the fellows in general think,

+Joe.”</p>

+

+<p>“I know; there’s no harm done. Only, if there are

+any squalls, Tracy, you take your friends and get into

+a cellar somewhere until they’ve blown over,” said Joe

+suggestively.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I’m not scared!” Tracy replied, laughing uneasily.

+“I’ll stand by you.”</p>

+

+<p>“All right,” answered Joe gravely. “That’ll be

+safest.”</p>

+

+<p>There came a knock at the door, and Joe shouted,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>

+“Come in!” When he saw who his caller was he arose

+from the window-seat and stepped forward.</p>

+

+<p>“How are you, Weatherby? Want to see me?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, if you have a minute to spare.” Jack looked

+calmly at the occupant of the Morris chair, and Joe

+understood.</p>

+

+<p>“Certainly,” he answered. “Sit down.” Then,

+“I don’t like to put you out, old man,” he said, turning

+to Tracy, who had so far made no move toward withdrawing,

+“but I guess I’ll have to ask you to excuse

+me a moment.”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s all right,” replied Tracy, lazily pulling

+himself out of his seat and staring insolently at the

+newcomer. “I’m a bit particular, anyway.” He

+lounged to the door, carefully avoiding contact with

+Jack. “See you in the morning,” he added. “So

+long.”</p>

+

+<p>When the door had closed, Joe glanced at the caller,

+instinctively framing an apology for the insult. But

+Jack’s countenance gave no indication that he had even

+heard it. Joe marveled and pointed to a chair.</p>

+

+<p>“Sit down, won’t you?” he asked politely.</p>

+

+<p>The other shook his head.</p>

+

+<p>“No, thanks. What I’ve got to say will take but

+a minute,” he answered calmly.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br />

+<small>AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>“Oh,” said Joe, vaguely, “all right.” He wondered,

+rather uncomfortably, what was coming.</p>

+

+<p>“It’s just this,” Jack continued. “I tried to get

+a word with you in the cage, but there was always

+some one around. I wanted to know if&mdash;if after what

+happened the other day at the river, you have any

+objection to my trying for the nine. You see,” he

+went on, hurriedly, “I know what the fellows call me,

+and I thought maybe you’d rather I didn’t come out.

+You just tell me, you know, and it’ll be all right.

+I won’t show up again.”</p>

+

+<p>“I see,” said Joe. “No, I haven’t the least objection;

+in fact, I’m glad to have you. I don’t pretend to

+judge that&mdash;affair at the river, Weatherby; it’s none

+of my business. And the fact is, I want every man

+that can play baseball to report for practise. That’s

+plain, isn’t it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes. I’ll keep on then for the present.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Of course, Weatherby, I can’t guarantee that

+you’ll be made welcome by the other candidates; you

+can understand that. They may act unpleasantly, or

+say ugly things. I’m not able to restrain them. You’ll

+have to risk that, you know.”</p>

+

+<p>“I understand,” answered Jack calmly. “They’ve

+already called me a coward. I don’t believe they can

+say anything worse.”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I guess not.” Joe looked curiously at the

+other. Then, “I say, Weatherby,” he exclaimed, impulsively,

+“what was the trouble, anyway, the other

+day? I’ve only heard one side of it, and I fancy there’s

+another, eh?”</p>

+

+<p>“I’d rather not talk about it, if you please,” answered

+Jack coldly.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, all right! I beg pardon.” Joe felt somewhat

+huffed. His sympathy for the other was for the

+moment snuffed out. Jack moved toward the door.</p>

+

+<p>“By the way,” said Joe, in business-like tones, “I

+think you told me you’d played ball some. Where

+was it?”</p>

+

+<p>“At home, on the high-school team. I played

+three years.”</p>

+

+<p>“What position?”</p>

+

+<p>“I pitched the last year. Before that I played in

+the outfield, generally at right.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“I see.” Joe’s hopes of the other’s usefulness

+dwindled. He had seen a good many cases of ambitious

+freshmen whose belief in themselves as pitchers was

+not justified by subsequent events. Every year there

+reported for practise a dozen or so of hopeful youngsters,

+who firmly believed themselves capable of filling

+all such important positions as pitcher and catcher,

+merely on the strength of having played such positions

+with more or less success on some fourth- or fifth-rate

+team. Joe mentally assigned Jack to this class of deluded

+ones.</p>

+

+<p>“Well,” he said, “of course you may count on

+having a fair trying-out, but I wouldn’t hope for too

+much. You see, a fellow has to be something of an

+expert to get in the box here; it’s different from playing

+on a high-school team. Besides, we’re rather well

+fixed for pitchers: there’s Gilberth and King and Knox,

+all of whom are first-class men. Of course, we want

+new material wherever we can find it, and if you prove

+that you can pitch good ball we’ll give you all the

+chance you want. But if I were you I’d try for something

+else this spring, for some position in the field.

+We’re long on pitchers and short on out-fielders. Of

+course, you could keep your hand in at twirling; there’d

+be plenty of opportunity for that at practise.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll take whatever I can get,” answered Jack.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>

+“I don’t lay any claim to being a wonder at pitching.

+I was the best we had in Auburn, but, of course, that

+doesn’t mean very much.”</p>

+

+<p>“Auburn, Maine? Do you live there?”</p>

+

+<p>“Two miles outside of town.”</p>

+

+<p>“Is that so? Maybe you know a cousin of mine

+there, Billy Cromwell? His father has a big tannery.

+He graduated from here three years ago this coming

+spring.”</p>

+

+<p>“I know him quite well,” replied Jack, smiling for

+the first time since he had entered the study. “It was

+Billy who persuaded me to come here. He used to tell

+me about Erskine a good deal. Of course, he’s seven

+or eight years older than I am, but he was always very

+nice to me.”</p>

+

+<p>“Think of that!” said Joe. “The idea of you

+being a friend of Billy’s! He’s fine chap, is Billy.

+What’s he doing now?”</p>

+

+<p>“Why, he’s assistant superintendent. Every one

+likes him very much, and he’s awfully smart, I guess.

+Well, I’ll report again to-morrow. I’m glad I saw you,

+and&mdash;thank you.”</p>

+

+<p>“Of course you’ll report. And if I can help you

+at any time, just let me know.” He opened the door

+and Jack passed out. “See you to-morrow, Weatherby.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Yes. Good afternoon.”</p>

+

+<p>When Jack reached the head of the stairs he heard

+Joe’s voice again and paused.</p>

+

+<p>“I say, Weatherby,” the baseball captain was calling,

+“come around and see me sometimes. I want to

+hear more about Billy.”</p>

+

+<p>“Thank you,” was the non-committal reply.</p>

+

+<p>Joe closed the door, took up a Greek book, and went

+back to the window-seat. When he had found his place

+he looked at it frowningly a moment. “‘Thank you,’

+says he,” he muttered. “As much as to say, ‘I’m

+hanged if I do!’ That youngster is a puzzle; worse

+than this chump, Pausanias!”</p>

+

+<p>The warm spell of Thursday and Friday had been

+succeeded by a drop in temperature that had converted

+the pools into sheets of ice. The board-walks and the

+paths still made treacherous going, and when, after

+leaving Sessons Hall, in which Joe Perkins roomed,

+Jack had several times narrowly avoided breaking his

+neck, he left the paths and struck off across the glistening

+snow toward the lower end of the yard. It was

+almost dusk, and a cold, nipping wind from the north

+made him turn up the collar of his jacket and walk

+briskly. There were but few fellows in sight, and he

+was glad of it. To be sure, by this time he should

+have been inured to the silently expressed contempt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span>

+which he met on every side, to the barely audible

+whispers that greeted his appearance at class, to the

+meaning smiles which he often intercepted as they

+passed from one neighbor to another. Yet despite that

+he was schooling himself to bear all these things

+calmly, and with no outward sign of the sting they

+inflicted, he was not yet quite master of himself, and

+was grateful that the coming darkness and the well-nigh

+empty yard promised him present surcease from

+his trials.</p>

+

+<p>Until he had entered Joe Perkins’s study a quarter

+of an hour before he had met with no voicing of the

+public contempt. He had managed to accept Tracy

+Gilberth’s veiled insult with unmoved countenance, yet

+it had required the greatest effort of any. He didn’t

+know who that man was; he only knew, from observation

+in the practise-cage, that he was the foremost candidate

+for the position of pitcher, and so must be, in

+view of Perkins’s remark, either Gilberth or King or

+Knox. Whoever he was, Jack vowed, some day he

+would be made to regret his words. For although Jack

+was accepting his fate in silence, he was very human,

+and meant, sooner or later, to even all scores.</p>

+

+<p>When he had almost reached College Place and

+had taken to the board-walk again, footsteps crunching

+the frosty planks ahead of him brought his mind suddenly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>

+away from thoughts of revenge. He looked up

+and saw that the man who approached and in another

+moment would pass him was Professor White. Jack

+stepped off the boards and went on with averted eyes.

+The professor recognized him at that instant, and as

+they came abreast spoke.</p>

+

+<p>“Good evening, Weatherby.”</p>

+

+<p>There was no answer, nor did Jack turn his head.

+The professor frowned and stopped.</p>

+

+<p>“Weatherby!” he called sharply. Jack paused

+and faced him.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, sir?” he asked, quietly.</p>

+

+<p>“What does this mean? Are you trying to add

+boorishness to&mdash;to your other failings?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, sir, I was only trying to spare you the unpleasantness

+of speaking to a coward.”</p>

+

+<p>“Very thoughtful of you,” said the other, sarcastically.

+“But allow me to tell you, sir, that if you

+want to remove the&mdash;ah&mdash;the sorry impression you

+have made you will have to adopt a less high-and-mighty

+manner.”</p>

+

+<p>“It’s a matter of indifference to me what impression

+you hold, sir,” replied Jack simply. “Good

+night.”</p>

+

+<p>The professor stood motionless and looked after the

+boy until he had crossed the street, the anger in his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>

+face slowly fading before a grudging admiration of

+the other’s clever, if extremely impolite, retort. Presently

+he swung his green bag of books under his arm

+again and trudged on.</p>

+

+<p>“I wonder if I wasn’t too hasty the other day,”

+he muttered. “For a coward he’s got a surprising

+amount of grit, apparently. He’ll bear watching.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack sped homeward, feeling rather pleased with

+himself. His score with the professor wasn’t by any

+means even, but the encounter had put something to

+his credit, and as he remembered the professor’s look

+of amazement and anger he chuckled.</p>

+

+<p>There was a light in Tidball’s room as he crossed

+the corner of the Common, and as he looked a grotesque

+head showed in gigantic silhouette against the yellow

+curtain. Jack ran up the stairs and knocked at his

+neighbor’s door.</p>

+

+<p>“Come in!” drawled the occupant of the western

+chamber, and Jack entered on a scene that caused him

+to pause just inside the door and stare in silent surprise.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br />

+<small>IN DISGRACE</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Anthony Tidball confronted Jack with a pewter

+spoon in one hand and a small tin coffee-pot in the

+other. He was in his shirt-sleeves and a bath-towel

+was fastened around his neck, descending in wispy

+folds to his knees. On one end of the study table a

+second towel was laid, and upon it rested a plate of

+bread, a jar of preserves, a wedge of cheese, a can of

+condensed milk, a bowl of sugar, and cellars containing

+salt and pepper. Besides these Jack saw a plate

+appropriately surrounded by knife, fork, and spoon,

+and flanked by a cup and saucer. There was a perceptible,

+and not ungrateful, odor of cooking present.

+<a href="#image05">Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably</a>, but carefully,

+toward the rocking-chair.</p>

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 387px;">

+<a name="image05" id="image05">

+  <img src="images/image05.jpg" width="387" height="600"

+       alt="Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably."

+       title="Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably." />

+</a><br />

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_47">Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.</a></div>

+</div>

+

+<p>“Hello, Weatherby,” he said. “Sit down.”</p>

+

+<p>“Wha&mdash;what are you doing?” gasped Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Cooking supper. Have some? You’re just in

+time.” He took the towel from his neck and, going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>

+to the gas-stove, used it to remove a pie-plate from

+above a tiny frying-pan.</p>

+

+<p>“Supper?” echoed Jack. “Do you mean that you&mdash;cook

+your own meals?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes,” responded Anthony, calmly. He approached

+the table with the pan, and from it dexterously

+transferred six small sausages on to the empty

+plate. Then he put a spoonful of milk and two spoonsful

+of sugar into the bottom of the cup and filled it

+to the brim with steaming and very fragrant coffee.

+“Yes, I’ve been my own chef,” he continued, “ever

+since I came here. When Gooch and I were together

+it was a good deal simpler. I got breakfast and he

+got supper; our lunches were just cold things. You

+see, Weatherby, we’re poor folks, and I couldn’t stay

+in college three months if I had to pay four dollars

+a week for meals. As it is, it’s a close haul sometimes.”</p>

+

+<p>“Everything looks very nice,” murmured Jack,

+taking the chair and observing the proceedings with

+frank curiosity.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, if you don’t object, I’ll just begin operations

+while things are hot,” said Anthony. He tucked

+a corner of the bath-towel under his chin and began

+his repast. “There’s nothing sinful in poverty, they

+say, and of course they’re right; but it’s pretty hard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>

+sometimes not to be ashamed of it. I don’t tell every

+one that I cook my meals in my room. It wouldn’t do.

+But you were certain to find it out sooner or later,

+and it might as well be sooner. I say, would you mind

+turning off the gas over there? Thanks.”</p>

+

+<p>“Do you mean that you can save money this way?”

+asked Jack as he sat down again.</p>

+

+<p>“You better believe it. When Gooch and I kept

+house together our food cost us about one dollar and

+five cents apiece every week. I guess now it’ll cost

+me nearer two dollars.”</p>

+

+<p>“But even then you’re saving two dollars by

+not going to a boarding-house,” said Jack reassuringly.</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I know,” replied Anthony, as he started on

+his second sausage, “but four dollars a week is my

+limit. And I’m paying more for this room than I

+did for my half of the other one. I guess I’ll have

+to retrench a while. Dad pays my tuition and I look

+after the rest myself. I earn enough in the summer

+taking out fishing parties and the like of that to last

+me. Last summer was a poor season, though; fish

+wouldn’t bite and folks wouldn’t go out with me.

+However, I got a scholarship, and that helped some.

+But I’m sailing a good deal nearer the wind than I

+did last year. And next week I’ve got to go over to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>

+Robinson, and I guess that will just about bankrupt

+me for a while.”</p>

+

+<p>“What are you going there for?” Jack inquired.</p>

+

+<p>“Debate.”</p>

+

+<p>“Of course!” cried the other. “I remember now!

+I couldn’t think where I’d heard your name. Why,

+you’re the president of the Lyceum, aren’t you? and

+the crack debater? The fellow who won for Erskine

+last year when every one expected to be beaten?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, something of that sort,” replied the junior.

+“Anyhow, I’ve got to go to Robinson next week. If

+we’re defeated after I’ve gone and paid five dollars

+and eighty cents in railroad fares&mdash;&mdash;!”</p>

+

+<p>Words failed him and he finished the last of the

+sausages with a woful shake of his head.</p>

+

+<p>“What are our chances?” asked Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“About the same as last year, I guess. We may

+and we mayn’t. Robinson’s got a fellow, named Heath,

+this year that’s a wonder, they say. We’ve lost

+Browning and Soule, and that leaves us sort of weak.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’d like to go,” said Jack, “but I don’t believe I

+could afford it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Wish you could,” Anthony responded heartily.

+“We need all the support we can get. If it was a

+football game, now, I guess the whole college would

+go along. As it is, I suppose we’ll have about two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>

+dozen beside the speakers. Did you ever try condensed

+milk with raspberry jam?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack had to acknowledge that he never had.</p>

+

+<p>“It’s right good,” said Anthony, spreading a generous

+spoonful of the mixture on a slice of bread. “If

+you kind of shut your eyes and don’t think about it

+the condensed milk tastes like thick cream.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack watched in silence a moment. Then&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>“I took your advice,” he announced.</p>

+

+<p>“Saw Perkins, you mean? What did he say?”</p>

+

+<p>“Said it was all right; said he was glad to have

+me.”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s good.”</p>

+

+<p>“And I met Professor White in the yard.”</p>

+

+<p>“What happened?” asked Anthony, turning his

+lean, spectacled face toward the other in evident interest.

+Jack recounted the conversation and Anthony

+grinned.</p>

+

+<p>“Pretty cheeky, though, weren’t you?”</p>

+

+<p>“I suppose I was,” Jack acknowledged. “But I

+don’t care; he had no business saying I was boorish.

+He&mdash;he’s a cad!”</p>

+

+<p>“Easy there! Don’t call names, Weatherby; it’s a

+mean way to fight. White’s not as bad as he seems to

+you. He’s made a mistake and when he discovers the

+fact he’ll be the first to acknowledge it. You’ll see.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Anthony produced his brier pipe and began to

+smoke.</p>

+

+<p>“Bother you much to-day, did they?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>“Some. I can stand it, I suppose.”</p>

+

+<p>“They’ll get tired pretty soon and forget it,” said

+the other kindly. “Keep your hand on the tiller, take

+a couple of reefs in your temper, and watch out.

+There’s your supper bell.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I must wash up. Are you going to be busy

+to-night?”</p>

+

+<p>“Not to hurt. Come in and bring your knitting.”</p>

+

+<p>“I will,” said Jack gratefully.</p>

+

+<p>The growing friendship with the new lodger was

+the one bright feature in Jack’s existence at this time,

+and during the next few weeks he frequently found

+himself viewing with something that was almost equanimity

+the occurrence at the river and its results, since

+among the latter was his acquaintance with Anthony

+Tidball. Anthony had hosts of acquaintances, but few

+friends; friends, he declared, were too expensive.

+But he adopted Jack during the first week of their

+acquaintance, and at once became guardian, mentor,

+and big brother all rolled into one. Jack went to him

+with his troubles&mdash;and he had a good many in those

+days&mdash;and listened to his advice, and generally acted

+upon it. It was a new and delightful experience to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>

+the younger boy to have a chum, and he made the most

+of it, resorting to Anthony’s room whenever he wanted

+society, and interrupting the junior’s studying in a way

+that would have summoned a remonstrance from any

+one save the good-hearted victim. Anthony always

+laid aside his books and pens, filled his pipe, took one

+foot into his lap, and listened or talked with unfailing

+good nature. And after Jack had taken himself off,

+Anthony would discard his pipe and buckle down to

+work in a mighty effort to make up for lost time, not

+infrequently sitting with the gas-stove between his

+knees long after the village clock had struck twelve,

+and every one else in the house was fast asleep.</p>

+

+<p>Sometimes they took walks together, for both were

+fond of being outdoors, and it became a common thing

+to see the tall, awkward junior striding alongside the

+freshman and leaning down near-sightedly to catch his

+words. For a while the college world wondered and

+exclaimed. Tidball was a person of vast importance,

+a queer, quiet, serious sort of fellow, but a master at

+study and debate, a man whose counsels were asked

+for and hearkened to with deep respect, and in general

+opinion a person who would be heard from in no uncertain

+way in the future. Hence, when the college

+saw that Tidball had taken up Weatherby, the college

+began to suspect that it had very possibly been overhasty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>

+in its judgment of the latter youth. Indications

+of this began to be apparent even to Jack; fellows were

+less uneasy when lack of other seats made it necessary

+for them to sit beside him at Chapel or at recitations;

+several times he was greeted by name, rather shamefacedly

+to be sure, by members of his own class; and

+baseball practise became less of an ordeal for him,

+since the candidates generally showed a disposition to

+recognize his existence and speak him fair. But if

+these condescending ones looked for evidences of

+gratitude from Jack they were doomed to disappointment.

+He returned greetings politely but without cordiality,

+and made not the least move toward grasping

+the hand of fellowship so hesitatingly and doubtingly

+advanced.</p>

+

+<p>“If I was not good enough to associate with

+before,” he told himself, “I’m no better now, merely

+because one man of prominence walks across the yard

+with me.”</p>

+

+<p>He had never accepted Joe Perkins’s invitation to

+call. He was grateful to the captain for the friendliness

+the latter had shown him, and continued to show

+him on every occasion. But Perkins believed him a

+coward, just as the others did. Joe repeated his invitation

+twice and then gave it up. Yet the more he

+saw of Jack the more he was inclined to doubt the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>

+fairness of the general verdict, and so, in spite of

+duties that took up practically every minute of his

+waking hours, he found time to write a letter to his

+cousin, Billy Cromwell, in Auburn. Eventually he

+received a reply. There were eight sheets of it altogether,

+as was natural, considering that Billy hadn’t

+written to Joe previously for something over six

+months, but only a small portion of the epistle is of

+interest here.</p>

+

+<p>“I know Jack Weatherby very well [Billy wrote].

+His folks and mine are old acquaintances. His father

+has a farm near here, but never has done very well

+with it, I believe. You know what some of our farms

+hereabout are; the Weatherby place is like them, only

+more so. Jack’s a smart, plucky youngster; a good

+sort all through. If you can help him along you’ll be

+doing me a favor. And I think you’ll like him if you

+know him better. And if you can get him on to the

+nine you’ll be doing well for the nine, I promise you.

+Jack’s one of those dependable chaps that you meet

+about once in a thousand years; if he says he’ll knock

+out a two-bagger, he’ll do it. And he isn’t afraid of

+work or anything else. That’s about all, I think. You

+said you wanted to know all I could tell you about Jack,

+and I think I’ve told it. Remember me to him when

+you see him.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Joe folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.</p>

+

+<p>“I never knew Billy to get taken in by any one

+yet,” he said to himself, “and so I fancy we’ve sized

+up young Weatherby all wrong. I’ll have another

+talk with him. Only&mdash;how to get hold of him?”</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br />

+<small>AT THE BATTING NETS</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Meanwhile Erskine had won a victory over

+Robinson, a victory which did not, perhaps, occasion

+as much enthusiasm as would have a triumph on the

+gridiron or the diamond, but which, nevertheless,

+pleased everybody greatly, and added new laurels to

+the wreath, encircling the brow of Anthony Zeno

+Tidball. Erskine won the debate. The result was

+never in doubt after Anthony delivered his argument,

+and when the last word had been said the judges did

+not even leave their seats, but, after a moment of

+whispered conference, awarded the victory to the

+visitors.</p>

+

+<p>The debaters and their small company of supporters

+did not return to Centerport until noon the next day,

+and long before that the morning papers had arrived

+and the college at large had proudly read their account

+of the contest. That explains why when Anthony,

+attired in a long, yellowish plaid ulster of great antiquity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span>

+and carrying his nightgown and toothbrush

+wrapped in a piece of brown paper, lurched from the

+train to the station platform and looked about him,

+his jaw dropped in ludicrous dismay, and he made a

+hurried effort to retreat. But his companions were

+crowding down behind him and he was forced forward

+into the ungentle hands of the cheering students, who

+filled the platform. Somehow, he never knew quite

+how, he was thrust and lifted to a baggage truck, from

+which, since his legs were securely pinioned by several

+enthusiastic jailers, he found it impossible to make

+his escape. So he hugged his bundle desperately and

+beamed good-humoredly about him, recognizing the advisability

+of making the best of things. The other

+debaters were hustled to his side in a wild medley of

+cheers, and then, clutching each other madly in an

+effort to maintain their balance, they were wheeled up

+and down the long platform in the vortex of a swirling

+throng and cheered to the echo, individually and collectively.

+For his part, Anthony was filled with a

+great relief when the train with its long line of grinning

+faces at the windows drew away, and with a

+greater relief when one of the occupants of the truck,

+losing his hold, tumbled between the framework, and

+so brought the triumphal procession to an end.</p>

+

+<p>The prey were allowed to escape, and Anthony<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>

+drew his long ulster about his thin shanks and scuttled

+ungracefully into Town Lane and so out of the rabble

+of still cheering students. But he hadn’t escaped Jack,

+for that youth, somewhat out of breath, overtook him

+before he had reached the corner and showered fragmentary

+congratulations upon him.</p>

+

+<p>“I got up&mdash;almost before&mdash;light,” panted Jack,

+bravely trying to keep up with Anthony’s long strides,

+“and went&mdash;down and&mdash;got a&mdash;paper&mdash;and&mdash;read&mdash;read&mdash; Oh,

+don’t go so fast, please!”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony moderated his pace and put an arm affectionately

+over the other’s shoulders.</p>

+

+<p>“Did you?” he asked. “Well, now, that was real

+friendly.”</p>

+

+<p>“And when I&mdash;saw&mdash;that you’d won&mdash;I danced a

+jig in&mdash;the&mdash;middle of Main Street!”</p>

+

+<p>“And haven’t got your breath back yet?” laughed

+Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“But&mdash;aren’t you glad?” asked Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“I should say so,” answered the other. “So

+tickled that I don’t mind the money it cost.”</p>

+

+<p>Another event, important to a large part of the

+college, took place a day or two later. March, which

+had raged in with a big snow-storm, relented and

+attempted the rôle of April. The ground dried and

+became firm and springy and little warm breezes almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>

+induced one to believe that he had somehow lost track

+of the months and had torn one too few leaves from

+his calendar. Erskine Field, given over during the

+winter to snow and winds, clothed itself in a new green

+livery and suddenly became the Mecca for more than

+half the college. One Thursday morning the following

+welcome notice hung in the window of Butler’s bookstore:</p>

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+

+<p class="noi"><span class="smcap">University Baseball.</span>&mdash;Outdoor practise

+on the Field at 4 sharp. Candidates must

+bring their own togs.</p></div>

+

+<p>Jack went out to the field early and, having got

+into his baseball clothes, threw his white sweater over

+his back, and sat down on the steps of the locker-house

+in the sunshine. Many fellows passed him, going in

+and out of the building, some according him a word of

+greeting, others a mere nod, while still others pretended

+not to see him. But Jack was beyond slights to-day.

+The spring was in his blood and he would have liked

+to throw himself down on the grass and roll over like

+a colt for mere joy of living. Instead, he only beat

+a restless tattoo with his heels and watched the passers.

+Presently the varsity squad trotted out; King, who

+played left field and was substitute pitcher; Billings,

+third-baseman; “Wally” Stiles, second-baseman;

+Knox, last year’s shortstop and substitute pitcher;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>

+“Teddy” Motter, crack first-baseman; Lowe, center-fielder,

+and several more, with Gilberth emerging last

+of all in talk with Joe Perkins.</p>

+

+<p>Jack watched Gilberth as he went by, much as a

+cat watches a mouse beyond its present reach. He had

+a score to even with Tracy Gilberth, and he was convinced

+that in good time the opportunity would come

+to him to even it. Meanwhile he waited patiently,

+observing Gilberth like a calm, inscrutable Fate. Gilberth

+had a firm grasp on the pitcher’s place, while

+Jack was only one of the second squad, and so, of late,

+their paths seldom crossed, and the senior had had no

+chance to give expression to his sentiments regarding

+the freshman. Of this Jack was glad, since Gilberth’s

+contemptuous glances roused his hatred as nothing else

+could.</p>

+

+<p>The varsity squad took possession of the diamond

+and began practising. Presently Bissell, the varsity

+center-fielder, made his appearance and took the second

+squad in charge. Bissell was out of the game for the

+while with a sprained ankle, and Hanson, the head

+coach, had placed the second squad under his wing.

+There were sixteen of them in all, for the most part

+upper classmen who had failed to make the varsity the

+year before, with a sprinkling of sophomores and two

+freshmen. The freshmen were Jack and a small, wiry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>

+chap, named Clover, who was trying for shortstop.

+Bissell led the way to the batting nets and soon

+they were hard at work. A third squad, made up of

+some twenty more or less hopeless candidates, many

+of them freshmen who would later form the nucleus

+of their class nine, were occupying an improvised diamond

+at the farther end of the football field. The

+scene was animated and interesting. The sharp crack

+of bat meeting ball, the shrill cries of the coachers,

+and the low thud of flying spheres against padded

+gloves filled the air.</p>

+

+<p>Jack had just finished his first turn at bat by sending

+a hot grounder across the grass, and had taken his

+place at the end of the line again when he heard an

+authoritative voice addressing Bissell, and looked

+around to find the head coach standing by.</p>

+

+<p>“Haven’t you got a man who can pitch better than

+that, Bissell?” asked the coach.</p>

+

+<p>Bissell surveyed the candidates doubtfully and the

+man who was pitching, quailing under the disapproving

+eye of the coach, threw his next ball over the batsman’s

+head and so completed his disgrace. The head

+coach was a small man, small in stature and small of

+limb and feature, but possessed of a shrewd and sharp

+brown eye that was the terror of shirking candidates.

+He was unmistakably good-looking, was Hanson&mdash;his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>

+full name was Alfred Ward Hanson&mdash;and had the faculty

+of commanding instant respect, rather a difficult

+feat for a small man. He was aided there, however,

+by a reputation for wonderful playing; nothing commands

+the respect and allegiance of the soldier or the

+athlete as does past prowess, and an army officer or

+college coach whose history contains valorous deeds is

+seldom troubled with insubordination or discouraged

+by half-heartedness in the ranks. Hanson was liked,

+respected, admired, and&mdash;feared.</p>

+

+<p>“You must have somebody here that’s able to pitch

+a straight ball,” continued the coach.</p>

+

+<p>“There ought to be,” replied Bissell. “How

+about it, you fellows? Can any of you pitch?”</p>

+

+<p>There was a moment’s silence. Undoubtedly several

+of them could, but with Hanson’s dissatisfied gaze

+upon them they hesitated to make known their accomplishment.

+It was Jack who spoke first.</p>

+

+<p>“I can pitch some,” he said, in matter-of-fact tones,

+stepping out of the line. “I’ll try, if you like.”</p>

+

+<p>“Go ahead then,” said Hanson. “It isn’t necessary

+to pitch curves; just get an occasional ball over

+the plate.”</p>

+

+<p>The head coach went over to the other net and

+Jack took the place of the retired pitcher. He hadn’t

+tried pitching since the summer and his first ball went<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>

+very wide. The line of waiting batsmen grinned; some

+even laughed audibly.</p>

+

+<p>“That’s a great deal better,” remarked one of them

+with fine sarcasm, and the laugh became general.</p>

+

+<p>“That’ll do, Showell,” exclaimed Bissell. “We

+don’t need your opinion.” Showell, a junior, and the

+fellow whom Jack had ousted, grinned sheepishly under

+the amused glances of the others and Jack settled down

+to business. After a few poor balls he got his hand

+in again and Bissell nodded approvingly. One after

+another the candidates took their places in front of

+the net and stayed there until they had made clean

+hits. Jack did not attempt to puzzle them, for at this

+time of year, despite the practise in the cage, batting

+work was still pretty poor. He delivered straight balls

+as slow as possible and the line moved along quickly.

+When Showell took his place, however, Jack remembered

+his sarcastic remark and resolved to make the

+former pitcher earn his hit. He attempted no curves

+or drops, but sent the first ball very straight over the

+square of wood that did duty as a plate. But if it

+was straight it was also swift, so swift that Showell

+merely looked at it go by and then glanced inquiringly

+at Jack as he tossed it back to him.</p>

+

+<p>He gripped his bat afresh then, and waited the next

+ball confidently. It came, and was, if anything, swifter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span>

+than the one before. Showell struck at it hard, but

+was half a foot too late. The watchers began to guess

+what was up and looked on interestedly.</p>

+

+<p>“Shorten your swing, Showell,” directed Bissell.

+“You were way too late then.”</p>

+

+<p>Showell’s face took on a deep red and he gritted

+his teeth as Jack slowly and calmly threw up his arms

+for the next delivery. Again the ball came straight and

+fast over the plate and this time Showell struck an

+instant too soon and the sphere glanced up off his bat,

+bounded against the hood of the net, and came down

+on his head ere he could duck. He picked it out of

+the dust and tossed it back with no pleasant expression.

+The line was grinning appreciatingly by this time, but

+Jack’s face showed neither amusement nor interest.

+Again Showell struck and missed miserably.</p>

+

+<p>“What are you pitching, Weatherby?” Bissell

+asked suspiciously.</p>

+

+<p>“Just straight balls,” answered Jack, simulating

+surprise.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, now look here, Showell,” said the acting

+coach, “do try and remember what you’ve been taught.

+Give me the bat.” Bissell took the other’s place.

+“Don’t stand as though you were going to run away.

+Face the plate; if you’re hit you’ve got your base.

+Now, watch me. All right, Weatherby.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Jack sent him a fairly fast ball, and Bissell took

+it neatly on the end of his stick and sent it sailing in

+a short flight toward right field.</p>

+

+<p>“You see, Showell? Swing back easily and don’t

+try to slug the ball. If you swing hard you miss your

+balance nine times out of ten. Bring the bat around

+easily on a line with the ball, hold it firmly and you’ve

+got your hit. Try it again, please.”</p>

+

+<p>Showell did try it again and struck a palpable foul.

+Once more he tried and missed entirely. By this time

+he was as mad as a hatter.</p>

+

+<p>“I can’t hit them unless he sends them over the

+plate,” he growled, eying Jack aggressively.</p>

+

+<p>“You need to learn how to bat,” said a voice behind

+him. “I guess it would do you good to have

+a term with the third squad.”</p>

+

+<p>He looked around into the face of Hanson, who

+unnoticed, had been watching his work for several minutes.

+He subsided and again faced the pitcher. But

+Jack had no desire to bring about Showell’s removal

+to the third squad, and so sent him a slow ball that

+he could not help hitting. When Showell had yielded

+his bat to the next man and stepped away Hanson

+turned to Bissell.</p>

+

+<p>“Who’s that fellow?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>“Showell, a junior.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Junior? No, no; I mean the youngster that’s

+pitching.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, that’s Weatherby, a freshman.”</p>

+

+<p>“Weatherby? Oh, yes.” He watched Jack send

+in a couple more balls and then turned to Bissell again.

+“You’d better let him keep on pitching,” he said.

+“Seems to me he’s rather promising. What do you

+think?”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ve never seen him pitch until to-day,” answered

+Bissell. “But he seems to be able to send in good,

+clean, straight balls. I don’t suppose he knows much

+about anything else, though.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, keep your eye on him,” said Hanson.

+“Can’t have too many pitchers, and that chap looks

+as though he might learn.”</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br />

+<small>THE LAST STRAW</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Jack marked the first of April a red-letter day

+in his memory, for on that day he was taken on to

+the varsity nine as substitute. The fact was made

+known to him after practise when, with the others,

+he was dressing himself in the locker-house. The

+head coach appeared in their midst with a slip of paper

+and Jack listened indifferently until he heard his name

+spoken. Even then the absurd idea came to him that

+it was an April fool.</p>

+

+<p>“Just a moment, please,” said Hanson; and when

+the hubbub had suddenly ceased, “the training-table

+will start in the morning at Pearson’s,” he announced,

+“and the following men will report there for breakfast:

+King, Knox, Gilberth, Billings, Stiles, Motter, Bissell,

+Lowe, Northup, Smith, Griffin, Mears, and Weatherby.

+Later, about the middle of the month, more men will

+be taken on. At present these are all we can accommodate.

+Breakfast is at eight prompt, and we want

+every man to be there on time. That’s all.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>After he had gone out those of the fellows remaining

+began an interested discussion of the announcement.

+Jack, pulling on his shoes, listened silently.</p>

+

+<p>“Where were you, Jimmie?” asked King.</p>

+

+<p>“I’m one of the ‘also-rans,’ I guess,” answered

+Riseman, a substitute fielder, sadly.</p>

+

+<p>“Beaten by a freshie,” called a fellow across the

+room. “Fie, fie, for shame!”</p>

+

+<p>“Who’s the freshie?” called some one else.</p>

+

+<p>“Weatherby,” answered two or three voices.

+“Weatherby, the brave!” added another. An admonitory

+“S&mdash;s&mdash;s&mdash;sh!” arose from Jack’s vicinity, and

+King whispered around the corner of the next alley:

+“Shut up, you fellows; he’s over here.” And then

+another voice, one which Jack instantly recognized as

+Gilberth’s, drowned King’s warning.</p>

+

+<p>“Do you suppose Hanson expects us to sit at the

+same table with that bounder?” he asked loudly.</p>

+

+<p>Jack’s face paled, and he bent his head quickly

+over the shoe he was lacing. “He knows I’m here,”

+he told himself grimly, “and pretends he doesn’t. If

+he says ‘Coward,’ I’ll&mdash;I’ll&mdash;” A lace broke in his

+hand. King suddenly began talking very loudly to

+Riseman about the baseball news from Robinson, but

+above that Jack heard Gilberth’s voice again:</p>

+

+<p>“I’d be afraid he’d put poison in my coffee. A<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>

+fellow that’ll stand by and see a person drown before

+his eyes without making a move at helping him might

+do anything. For my part&mdash; What? Who is?”

+There was an instant’s pause. Then, “Well,” continued

+the speaker in slightly lowered tones, “there’s an

+old proverb about listeners&mdash;” The rest trailed off

+into silence.</p>

+

+<p>King was still talking volubly and seemingly at random.

+In spite of his almost overmastering anger, Jack

+recognized King’s good-hearted attempt to spare him

+pain, and was grateful. His hands trembled so that

+he could scarcely tie his broken string, and the tears

+were very near the surface; he had to gulp hard once

+or twice to keep them back. The temptation to kick

+off the unlaced shoe, dash recklessly around the corner,

+and knock Gilberth down, to fight him until he could

+no longer stand, was strong. He kept his head bent

+and his blazing eyes on the floor and fought down the

+impulse. He had promised Anthony to keep silence;

+to lose command of himself now would be to waste all

+those weeks of self-repression which, he believed, and

+was right in believing, had made a favorable impression

+upon his fellows. He tried to think of other things,

+of his luck in being taken on to the varsity, of how

+pleased Anthony would be at hearing about it. Presently

+he finished lacing his shoes, stood up and calmly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>

+donned his coat. Then, in spite of himself, he hesitated.</p>

+

+<p>The thought of passing through the locker-room

+under the staring, antagonistic eyes of a score or so

+of men, of running the gantlet of whispers and low

+laughter, for the moment appalled him. Then, as he

+slowly buttoned the last button, he heard a voice at

+his side.</p>

+

+<p>“Ready, Weatherby? If you don’t mind, I’ll

+walk back with you.”</p>

+

+<p>He looked around into the pleasant face of King

+and, after a moment of surprise, muttered assent. The

+central aisle was filled with fellows in various stages

+of attire and the two had to worm their way through.

+Jack went first, doing his level best to look unconcerned

+and at ease, and King followed close behind

+him, talking over his shoulder all the way. At the

+door King stepped ahead and threw open the portal,

+guiding Jack through with a friendly push on the back.

+When they had disappeared, one or two witnesses of

+the affair exchanged surprised or amused glances. But

+only Gilberth commented aloud.</p>

+

+<p>“Very touching!” he laughed. “King to the rescue

+of Insulted Innocence!”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, forget it!” growled some one from the depths

+of a twilit alley.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Outside, on the porch, Jack turned to King with

+reddened cheeks. “Thank you,” he said.</p>

+

+<p>“All right,” answered the other carelessly. “Fair

+play, you know.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack hesitated, waiting for the other to take his

+departure. King looked at him quizzically.</p>

+

+<p>“Look here, Weatherby, don’t be so beastly snobbish,”

+he expostulated with a touch of impatience.

+“If you object to my company back to the Yard, just

+say so, but don’t look as though I was too low down

+to associate with.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack colored and looked distressed.</p>

+

+<p>“I didn’t mean to, honestly!” he protested. “Of

+course, I don’t object to your company. I&mdash;I only

+thought&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, come on, then.” They went down the

+steps together, just as the door opened to emit a handful

+of players. “Don’t get it into your head, Weatherby,

+that we’re all cads,” King continued, “just

+because Gilberth occasionally acts like one. The fact

+is, there are plenty of fellows back there who are quite

+ready to be decent if you’ll give them half a chance.

+The trouble is, though, you look as though you didn’t

+care a continental for anybody. Perhaps you don’t;

+but it isn’t flattering, you see. I dare say it sounds

+pretty cheeky for me to talk like this to you, especially<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>

+as we’ve never been properly introduced and

+haven’t spoken before, but I’ve been here a year

+longer than you have, and I know how easy it is to

+make mistakes. And it seems to me you’re making

+one.”</p>

+

+<p>“I don’t think you’re cheeky,” answered Jack

+quite humbly. “I don’t mean to have folks think I’m&mdash;think

+I’m indifferent, either.”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s all right, then,” replied King heartily.

+“They say you’re coming out as a pitcher,” he went

+on, changing the subject, to Jack’s relief. “Bissell

+was telling me to-day.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ve been pitching some on the second nine,” answered

+Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Where did you play before you came to college?”

+asked the other. Jack told him about the high-school

+nine at Auburn, and the rest of the way back the talk

+remained on baseball matters. He parted from his

+new acquaintance at the corner of the Yard, and went

+on alone through a soft, spring-like twilight to his room.

+He had gained one more of the enemy to his side, he

+reflected, and that alone was a good day’s work. But

+besides that he had been taken on to the varsity squad,

+and altogether the day was a memorable one. He

+climbed the stairs happily, the sting of the incident

+in the locker-house no longer felt.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Anthony was quite as pleased with his news as

+Jack had expected him to be, and the two sat together

+until late that evening discussing the unexpected stroke

+of fortune.</p>

+

+<p>“Wouldn’t be surprised if they let you play in

+Saturday’s game,” said Anthony. Jack laughed ruefully.</p>

+

+<p>“I should,” he answered. “But it’s something to

+sit on the varsity bench.”</p>

+

+<p>The next morning Jack dressed himself under mild

+excitement at the thought of making his appearance

+at the training-table. He had notified Mrs. Dorlon

+the evening before of his departure from her hospitable

+board and that lady had sniffed disappointedly at the

+notion of losing her only boarder. But Jack had no

+regrets for the separation. Pearson’s was only about

+a block from Mrs. Dorlon’s, but, nevertheless, Jack

+reached there several minutes late. The baseball

+players had been given the big dining-room on the

+front of the house in which last fall’s successful football

+team, winner of the remarkable 2&mdash;0 game with

+Robinson, had eaten their way to glory.</p>

+

+<p>When Jack entered, the table at first glance appeared

+to be filled. The next moment he saw that

+there were three empty seats, two at the farther end

+of the table and one near at hand, between Gilberth<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>

+and Northup. He reflected that it might look cheeky

+to parade the length of the room, and so, returning

+the nods of several of the fellows, he slipped into the

+chair beside Gilberth, fervently hoping that the latter

+would take no notice of him. Gilberth was busily

+recounting an adventure which had befallen him the

+day before while out in his automobile&mdash;he was the

+proud possessor of the only motor vehicle in the town

+of Centerport&mdash;and it is probable that he did not observe

+Jack’s entrance.</p>

+

+<p>“It was just at that narrow stretch before you get

+to the blacksmith’s shop,” he was saying. “The fellow

+had a load of bricks. Well, he stopped, and I stopped,

+and we looked at each other. Finally, he called out,

+‘Say, you’ll have to back to the corner, I guess. We

+can’t pass here.’ ‘Back nothing,’ I said. ‘These things

+aren’t taught to back.’ ‘They ain’t?’ said he. ‘But

+you don’t expect that I’m going to back with this

+load on, do you?’ ‘It’s a good deal to expect,’ I

+answered, looking sorry, ‘but if you don’t, we’re likely

+to stay here until Christmas.’ You’d ought to

+have heard him swear! It was as good as a circus!

+Well&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“How are you, Weatherby?” asked Joe Perkins

+at that moment.</p>

+

+<p>As Jack replied, Gilberth turned and saw him.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>

+Stopping short in his narrative, he silently gathered

+up his plate, cup, and saucer, and pushing back his

+chair, arose and walked around the table to one of

+the other empty seats. The talk died out abruptly,

+and the fellows watched the proceedings in dead silence.

+Gilberth’s action had taken Jack completely by surprise,

+and for a moment he could only stare amazedly. Then,

+as the full force of the insult struck him, the color

+flooded his cheeks until they burned like fire. His eyes,

+avoiding the faces across the board, fell upon the sympathetic

+countenance of the captain, and it was the

+look of concern he found there that upset him. The

+tears rushed into his eyes and the hand on the table

+trembled. He put it in his lap, where it clenched

+its fellow desperately, and stared miserably at the white

+cloth. Suddenly upon the uncomfortable silence a

+voice broke calmly. Gilberth, having settled himself

+in his new seat, was going on with his story, just as

+though there had been no interruption.</p>

+

+<p>“After he’d called me everything he could think

+of,” he continued, “he got down and started to back.

+It took him ten minutes to get to the blacksmith shop,

+and maybe he wasn’t mad! After I got by him, I gave

+him a little exhibition, free of charge. I backed the

+machine all over the place, and pretty nearly stood it

+on end. You ought to have seen his eyes; they almost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>

+popped out of his head. And just when he was beginning

+to recover his voice, I waved good-by to him,

+and lit out. Funniest thing you ever saw!”</p>

+

+<p>One or two of his audience laughed half-heartedly,

+but the most looked gravely disgusted.</p>

+

+<p>“You have a wonderfully keen sense of humor,”

+observed Joe Perkins dryly. Then the conversation

+began again, and the waitress brought Jack’s breakfast.

+He ate it silently, or as much of it as he could; the

+coffee scalded his throat, and the steak very nearly

+choked him. King, sitting near-by, spoke to him once,

+and he answered. But his voice wasn’t quite steady,

+and so the other wisely refrained from further attempts

+at conversation. One by one the fellows left the room,

+and as soon as he dared, Jack followed. He kept his

+head very high all the way back to his room; but in each

+cheek there was a bright disk of crimson and his eyes

+stared straight ahead. A tramp slouching along, with

+hands in pockets, moved aside to let him pass, but Jack

+never saw him.</p>

+

+<p>When he had entered the front door, he moved

+very quietly, mounting the stairs as though contemplating

+burglary. Anthony’s door was ajar, and Jack

+tiptoed toward it and looked into the bare and shabby

+room. It was empty, and the fact seemed to relieve

+him. Crossing to his own room, he turned the key in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>

+the lock and began feverishly to pack his valise. The

+task did not take him long, and when it was completed,

+and the bag stood beside the door secured and strapped,

+he went to the desk and, seizing a sheet of paper, wrote

+hurriedly. When the composition was finished, he

+read it through.</p>

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+

+<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Friend</span> [it ran]: There’s no use trying any

+more. I thought I could stand it, but I just can’t.

+After what happened this morning, there’s only one

+thing for me to do, and I’m going to do it. I’m very

+sorry to go away from you, because you have been

+awfully kind to me, and you are the first one I ever

+knew who seemed like a chum. But I’m going home,

+and not coming back any more, because I can’t stand

+every one thinking I’m a coward, and Gilberth treating

+me like mud. I’m sorry I can’t keep my promise to

+you, if it was really a promise, and please don’t think

+I haven’t tried, because I have tried very hard. Please

+don’t remember it against me. I’m very, very sorry.

+Maybe I will meet you again some time.</p>

+

+<p class="noic">“Your sincere friend,</p>

+

+<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">John Weatherby</span>.</p>

+

+<p>“P. S. Please keep this charm to remember me by,

+if you don’t mind. You wear it on your watch-chain.

+Good-by. <span class="flright">J. W.”</span></p>

+</div>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>He placed the note and the watch-charm in an

+envelope, sealed and addressed it, and crossed with it

+to Anthony’s room. When he returned a moment

+later, he held something concealed in his hand. He

+unstrapped his valise, and as he did so a noise in the

+hall outside caused him to glance nervously at the door.

+Quickly opening the bag he dropped the object he held

+into it, and again secured it. Going into the hall, he

+listened. All was still. Returning, he took up bag

+and overcoat and cautiously crept down the stairs and

+out of the house. Fearful of being seen, he turned to

+the left and made his way to the station by Murdoch

+Street and the railroad.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br />

+<small>ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Anthony returned to his room after the first recitation.

+He had discovered while in his class that he

+had forgotten his watch, and remembered that he had

+left it lying on his study table. The first thing that

+caught his eyes when he entered his room was an envelope

+bearing the inscription in a round, boyish hand,

+“Anthony Tidball. Present.” Wondering, he tore

+it open. Something fell from it and rolled to the floor.

+When found it proved to be a brown Florida bean with

+a little gold-plated swivel at one end. Anthony stared

+from the bean to the envelope; then the thought that

+the latter probably held a note came to him and he

+went back to it.</p>

+

+<p>He read the note very slowly, a frown deepening

+the while on his face. He read it the second time

+and then carefully restored it to the envelope, thrust

+his big hands into his trousers pockets and lurched to

+the dormer-window. For a minute or two he stood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>

+there looking out across the Common into a tender

+green mist of quickening branches. Finally he sighed,

+shook his head, and turned back to the room.</p>

+

+<p>“Poor kid,” he muttered.</p>

+

+<p>But perhaps, he reflected, it was not too late to

+intercept him. When did the trains leave? He pulled

+out a table drawer and found a time-card. There was

+one at 9.22; that had gone. There was another, an

+express, at 10.16. If Jack had missed the first it

+was possible, thought Anthony, to reach the station

+in time to bring him back. It was now&mdash;&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>He felt for his watch, and for the first time since

+finding the note recollected the reason of his return.

+He glanced quickly over the table. The watch was

+not in sight. He distinctly remembered placing it on

+the blotting-pad while he changed the rather heavy

+vest he had been wearing all winter for a lighter one.

+He pushed aside books and papers and searched the

+table from end to end. Then he went through his

+drawers and finally, while realizing the uselessness of

+it, unlocked and searched his trunk. After he had

+felt in the pockets of what few clothes he possessed

+he accepted the fact that the watch was gone. But

+where? Who could have taken it? Who had been

+in the room&mdash;besides Jack? Jack&mdash;&mdash;!</p>

+

+<p>He sat down in the rocker and stared blankly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>

+frowningly, at the window. It was the stupidest thing

+in the world to suspect Jack. And yet&mdash;! With a

+mutter of disgust at himself for the entertainment of

+such a wild suspicion, he jumped up and surveyed the

+room. But the bed was still unmade and the momentary

+hope that Mrs. Dorlon might have come across

+the watch and put it away for him had to be relinquished.

+He hurried down-stairs and found his hostess

+in the kitchen. No, she told him, she hadn’t been up-stairs

+yet and hadn’t seen the watch. Had any one

+been up there? Well, she didn’t know of any one.

+Still, the door had been open all the morning and&mdash; Why,

+yes, come to think of it, she had thought once

+that she heard footsteps up-stairs and presumed that

+they were Mr. Weatherby’s, though to be sure she

+hadn’t seen him come in or go out. Could she help

+Mr. Tidball look for it?</p>

+

+<p>Anthony politely declined her proffered assistance

+and returned to his room. He searched again about

+the table, striving to convince himself that he had not

+left the watch there; that he had worn it to recitation,

+that the chain had become detached from his

+buttonhole and that the watch had fallen from his

+pocket. But it wouldn’t do. He remembered clearly

+just how the timepiece had looked lying in its chamois

+case upon the blotter, with the heavy gold chain curling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>

+away toward the ink-bottle. Perhaps Jack had

+come in to find out the time and had unconsciously

+taken the watch back to his room with him? Of

+course, that must be it!</p>

+

+<p>He strode across the hall and into the other chamber.

+There were evidences of hurried flight; the little

+steamer trunk stood in the middle of the floor and a

+few odds and ends of rubbish lay about the bed and

+table. But the watch was not in sight. The latest

+explanation of its disappearance had seemed so plausible

+that Anthony experienced keen disappointment.

+Turning, he retraced his steps toward the door. Half-way

+there he stopped and stared as though fascinated

+at something lying at his feet. Stooping, he picked it

+up and looked at it carefully in the forlorn hope that

+it would prove to be other than what it was, a little

+chamois watch-pouch.</p>

+

+<p>Finally he dropped it into his pocket and went back

+to his room, stepping very quietly, as though leaving

+a chamber of sickness. He stared aimlessly about for

+a moment, and then, with a start, took up his note-books

+and descended the stairs. Mrs. Dorlon, blacking

+the kitchen stove, heard the door open and looked up

+to see the lean, spectacled face of her new lodger peering

+through. He looked rather pale and sickly that

+morning, she thought.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Just wanted to tell you that it’s all right,” he

+said. “I found my watch. It was in the&mdash;the washstand.”</p>

+

+<p>After he had gone she suddenly paused and sniffed

+perplexedly. “Now that’s funny,” she thought.

+“How could he have found it in the washstand when

+the washstand hasn’t any drawer nor nothin’?”</p>

+

+<p>At the luncheon-table Jack was conspicuous by his

+absence. The story of Gilberth’s action at breakfast

+had filtered through college in a dozen varied forms

+until by noon it was pretty widely known. The general

+opinion was that Gilberth had acted brutally;

+there were even some few who flatly called his behavior

+contemptible; there were others, fewer still,

+who thought that he had “given Weatherby just what

+he deserved.” There was considerable relief felt by

+the more charitably disposed members of the training-table

+when Jack failed to appear, for his suffering at

+the breakfast-table had not been a pleasant thing to

+watch. Gilberth, however, was in high feather. He

+believed Jack’s absence was a result of his treatment

+in the morning, and was quite proud of his abilities

+as a public prosecutor. But the rest of the table somehow

+did not appear to be quite so pleased with him.

+This fact was shown by a disposition to avoid entering

+into conversation with him. His remarks were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>

+received in silence, and after a while he gave up the

+attempt to entertain the company and finished his meal

+in ruffled dignity.</p>

+

+<p>When luncheon was over “Baldy” Simson, the

+trainer, who occupied the seat at the foot of the board,

+called Joe Perkins’s attention to the fact of Jack’s absence.</p>

+

+<p>“I know,” Joe answered, looking rather worried.

+“I’m going to look him up; you needn’t bother.

+By the way, Tracy, just wait a minute, will you? I

+want to see you.” Gilberth, in the act of leaving the

+room, returned and tilting a chair toward him slid

+into it over the back with a fine appearance of unconcern.</p>

+

+<p>“Fire away, Joe,” he said. “But I’ve got a two-o’clock,

+and it’s getting late.”</p>

+

+<p>Simson went out and left the two together and

+alone, save for the waitress who had begun clearing

+off the table. Joe pushed his plate away and looked

+gravely across at his friend.</p>

+

+<p>“Look here, Tracy, this thing has simply got to

+stop, you know.”</p>

+

+<p>“What thing?” asked the other, raising his eyebrows.</p>

+

+<p>“Why, you know what I mean. I won’t have

+Weatherby persecuted the way you’re doing. I can’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>

+turn out a decent team unless you fellows get together

+and work in harmony. You know that as well as I

+do. Whatever your sentiments toward Weatherby

+may be, you’ve got to treat him politely in his position

+as a member of the varsity nine. I won’t have any

+more scenes like the one you brought about this morning.

+You’re worrying Weatherby half sick. He may

+be what you think he is; I’m not in position to know;

+but it’s all nonsense for you to take on yourself the

+duties of judge, jury, and hangman. You attend to

+yourself and let Weatherby attend to himself. That’s

+what I want you to do.”</p>

+

+<p>Joe’s voice had been getting sharper and sharper

+as he proceeded and when he had finished his eyes were

+sparkling dangerously. As always, when Joe’s temper

+threatened to get the better of him, Tracy’s usual

+aggressiveness disappeared and gave place to a sullen

+stubbornness. Now he traced figures on the stained

+cloth with a fork and was silent a minute before he

+made reply. Then:</p>

+

+<p>“There’s no use in your lecturing me like that,”

+he muttered. “You can stick up for Weatherby if

+you want to, but you needn’t think you can make me

+coddle him too. The fellow’s a coward and a cad, and

+you’ve no business asking decent fellows to sit at table

+with him.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“You’ll sit at table with him or you’ll get out,”

+cried Joe hotly.</p>

+

+<p>“Then I’ll get out!”</p>

+

+<p>There was silence for a moment, during which

+Tracy continued to mark up the cloth and Joe struggled

+more or less successfully to get command of his

+temper. Finally he asked, almost calmly:</p>

+

+<p>“Do you mean that you’ll leave the team, that

+you’ll throw me over and threaten the college with

+defeat for a mere whim?”</p>

+

+<p>“It isn’t a whim,” growled Tracy. “It&mdash;it’s a

+principle.”</p>

+

+<p>Joe smiled in spite of himself and the last of his

+ill-humor vanished.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, don’t talk poppycock, Tracy,” he said.

+“Look here, you must see how difficult you’re making

+it for Hanson and me. We can’t do what we want to

+do if there are dissensions among you chaps. Like

+a good fellow, promise me to leave Weatherby alone.

+He isn’t going to interfere with you; you know that.

+The other fellows aren’t kicking up a row about having

+him at table, so why should you? Besides, Tracy,

+consider what a thundering hard row the chap has to

+hoe. Maybe he acted the coward; I didn’t see it and

+don’t know; but even if he did it’s more than likely

+that he’s a lot worse ashamed of it than you are, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>

+probably wants to make up for it. Give him a show,

+can’t you? Be generous, Tracy!”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, let him keep away from me, then,” Tracy

+growled.</p>

+

+<p>“How can he when you’re both on the team?”

+asked Joe impatiently. “We want him because he’s

+got the making of a good player; he’s sure, quick, and&mdash;honest.”</p>

+

+<p>“Huh!”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, honest! We’ve watched him just as we’ve

+watched all you fellows&mdash;perhaps a bit more, because

+he’s under suspicion, as it were&mdash;and he’s played us fair

+every time. He’s done as he’s been told and done it

+just as hard as he knew how. And it’s all wrong to

+call a man dishonest until he’s done something dishonest.”</p>

+

+<p>“How about that affair at the river?” asked the

+other sneeringly.</p>

+

+<p>“A man may be a coward at a&mdash;a crisis and a brave

+man all the rest of his life. Physical cowardice isn’t

+dishonesty. For that matter, I can imagine a chap

+running from bullets and yet standing up like a little

+man in front of bayonets. I’m not sure I wouldn’t

+run away from bullets myself, and if I were you I

+wouldn’t be too sure, either.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’m not a coward,” cried Tracy.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“I don’t say you are; I don’t think you are. And

+yet you’re not brave enough to let public opinion go

+hang and give that poor duffer, Weatherby, a fighting

+chance!”</p>

+

+<p>Gilberth received this in silence, staring moodily

+at the table. The bell in the tower of College Hall

+began its imperative summons and Joe pushed back

+his chair and arose. Tracy followed his example.</p>

+

+<p>“I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” said the

+former. He overtook the other at the door and laid

+a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Don’t mind my

+ill-temper, old man. There’s no use in having a friend

+if you can’t bully him a little now and then. And&mdash;er&mdash;think

+over what I said, will you?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, that’s all right,” answered Tracy grudgingly.

+“No harm done. See you later.”</p>

+

+<p>Joe stood on the porch and watched him cross the

+road and disappear up the broad gravel-path toward

+the laboratories. Then Joe passed down the steps and

+through the gate with a little smile of satisfaction on

+his face.</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, it is all right,” he told himself. “He’ll do

+as I want him to. But I wish&mdash;I do wish I hadn’t lost

+my pesky temper!”</p>

+

+<p>He turned to the left toward Washington Street

+and as he neared the corner he caught sight of a tall<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>

+fellow crossing the Common with long awkward strides.

+The ill-fitting clothes and the little stoop of the shoulders

+were sufficient to reveal the man’s identity at first

+glance, and Joe hailed him:</p>

+

+<p>“O <em>Tid</em>-ball! O Tid-<em>ba-a-all</em>!”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony paused, looked, waved a note-book responsively,

+and stumbling over a “Keep off the

+grass” sign, crossed the turf and clambered over the

+fence.</p>

+

+<p>“How are you, Tidball?” asked Joe, shaking hands.

+For some reason fellows usually did shake hands with

+Anthony when they met him, just as they thumped

+other acquaintances on the back or punched them in

+the ribs or pulled their caps over their eyes. “You’re

+just the man I wanted to see,” Joe went on. “As

+usual, we’re just about stone broke; the Baseball Association,

+I mean. We’ve got to have a lot of money

+for the nine and we’ve got to raise it by subscription.

+The schedule has the team down for five games away

+from home, and that means a heap of expense. The

+Athletic Association has given us all they could afford

+to, about one hundred and fifty dollars, but that won’t

+last us any time. So we’re going to get up a mass

+meeting in about a week or so and try and raise the

+dust. And we want you to speak for us; whoop things

+up a bit, you know. Can you do it?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“S’pose so,” answered Anthony doubtfully. “But

+I don’t know a blamed thing about baseball.”</p>

+

+<p>“You won’t have to. We’ve got plenty of chaps

+who can talk baseball; what we want is some one who

+can open their pockets. We’re depending on you, Tidball,

+so say yes, like a good chap. Hanson is going

+to speak, and so is Professor Nast, and so am I. And

+we’re trying to get the dean to hem and haw a bit

+for us. But we need you like anything. What do you

+say?”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll do what I can,” said Anthony. “You let me

+know when it’s to be and tell me what you want me

+to say. Don’t believe, though, Perkins, the fellows will

+pay much attention to what I’ve got to say about baseball.

+’Tisn’t as though I knew a ball from a&mdash;a&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“From another ball, eh? Don’t let that bother

+you. I’m awfully much obliged; it’s very nice of you.

+And I’ll let you know all about it in a day or two.

+By the way, though, where are you living now? Some

+one said you’d left the old joint.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I had to when Gooch went home. I’m at

+Mrs. Dorlon’s, down the row there.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, are you? I was just going there. Doesn’t

+young Weatherby room there?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes.”</p>

+

+<p>“Is he in now, do you know?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Anthony settled his spectacles more firmly on his

+nose before he replied.</p>

+

+<p>“No, he’s not in just now.” He hesitated a moment.

+Then, “Guess you might as well know about

+it,” he said musingly.</p>

+

+<p>“About what?”</p>

+

+<p>“’Bout Weatherby.”</p>

+

+<p>“What’s he done?”</p>

+

+<p>“Gone home.”</p>

+

+<p>“Gone home?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, left college.”</p>

+

+<p>“But what for? When did he go?” asked Joe in

+surprise.</p>

+

+<p>“This morning. He left a note for me. Don’t

+know whether it’s my place to tell folks or not. Maybe

+you’d better keep it quiet. He might change his mind,

+you know.”</p>

+

+<p>“I see,” replied Joe thoughtfully. “Do you&mdash;do

+you happen to know why he left?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, and I guess you do, too.”</p>

+

+<p>“You mean&mdash;&mdash;?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes. He stuck it out as long as he could, but

+I guess things got too hot for him. His note made

+mention of something that happened this morning at

+training-table.”</p>

+

+<p>“By Jove!” muttered the other. “It’s a blamed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>

+shame! You know, Tidball, I never quite believed him

+the&mdash;er&mdash;coward they say he is. What do you think?”</p>

+

+<p>“Me? Oh, I don’t know,” answered Anthony

+uneasily, puckering his lips together. “Maybe he

+isn’t.”</p>

+

+<p>Joe looked a little surprised.</p>

+

+<p>“I don’t know just why,” he said, “but I had an

+idea you’d support my judgment of him. Well, perhaps

+it’s just as well that he’s gone. Although he had

+the making of&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“No, no,” cried Anthony in sudden contrition, the

+blood rushing into his thin face. “I didn’t mean that!

+I shouldn’t have said it, Perkins! I think he’s&mdash;I don’t

+believe he’s a coward!” He pressed the other’s arm

+convulsively with his long fingers as though seeking

+to give added weight to the emphatic assertion and

+hurried away. “Come and see me,” he called back.</p>

+

+<p>Joe stared after him in bewilderment.</p>

+

+<p>“Strange duffer, Tidball,” he reflected. “Wonder

+if he and Weatherby had a row? Sounds like it. Poor

+old Weatherby! I’m sorry he’s gone; by Jove, I am

+sorry! And I fancy I might have prevented it if I’d

+got after Tracy sooner. Hang him, he ought to be

+licked!”</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br />

+<small>FLIGHT</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>When Jack left the house he hesitated a moment

+at the little gate. Then he turned to the left and

+hurried to Murdoch Street and down that to the railroad

+track. He was taking the longest route to the

+station; but, since his main desire was to avoid meeting

+any one he knew, it was also the safest. His battered

+valise, although by no means full, soon grew heavy

+and began to bump against his legs at every stride.

+When he reached the track, what with the aggravating

+behavior of the valise and the difficulty of walking

+over the uneven ties, speed was no longer possible.

+He had barely reached the Washington Street crossing

+when a whistle down the track behind him brought

+consternation. It was the 9.22 train, he told himself;

+and he knew that if he missed that he would

+have to wait a whole hour at the station before he

+could get another&mdash;an hour which might serve to bring<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span>

+Anthony upon him with a wealth of unanswerable argument

+in favor of his return.</p>

+

+<p>So, after a quick glance over his shoulder in the

+direction of the warning blast, he shifted the valise

+again and set out over the ties at a run. Once he

+stumbled and the bag went hurtling down the bank

+and brought up against a board fence. When he had

+recovered it and had scrambled back to the track the

+train was but a few hundred yards away. But the

+station was almost gained now. He retired to a hand-car

+siding while the engine and its three cars whizzed

+past him with much grinding of brakes, and then ran

+on in the wake of dust.</p>

+

+<p>There was no time to buy a ticket. When he

+reached the platform and the last car, the conductor

+had already swung his hand to the engineer. Jack

+pushed his valise on to the car-steps and crawled,

+breathless, after it. Then the train moved again, and

+a minute later Centerport was lost to sight. Jack,

+huddled upon the rear platform, saw it disappear with

+mingled emotions. Regret was prominent. He wondered

+at this. Surely, he thought, he had been miserable

+enough at Erskine to make the parting anything

+but regretful. And yet, even as he thought that, the

+idea of leaving the train at the next station and walking

+back came to him with strange attractiveness.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>

+Anthony would be glad; none else would know that

+he had contemplated flight; he would go back to the

+training-table, secure a place on the nine, and do great

+things&mdash;things that would make the college proud of

+him. And Gilberth might&mdash;&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>But at the recollection of Gilberth the plan lost

+its attractiveness. Jack gritted his teeth and shook

+his fist toward where the tower of College Hall was

+still just visible above the tree-tops. Then, having recovered

+his breath, he took up his bag and passed into

+the car. It proved to be the smoker and was almost

+deserted. He selected a seat on the riverside, placed

+his valise beside him, and gave himself up to his

+thoughts. These were not cheerful. He wondered

+what his father and mother would say to his return.

+As for the latter, he could count with certainty upon

+her sympathy and support. But his father was different.

+He was a man with a stern conscience, and one

+singularly devoid of the finer sensibilities. For him

+the path of duty was always clearly defined and he

+trod it unswervingly, no matter what might befall.

+And, as Jack well knew, he looked for and demanded

+the same moral courage from others that he himself

+displayed. No, there would be no sympathy forthcoming

+from his father. Jack could almost hear him

+now:</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“You had done no wrong, my son. With a clear

+conscience you had nothing to fear. The wrong was

+in running away.”</p>

+

+<p>He might, thought Jack, even insist upon his returning.

+But that he would not do. He would find

+work and, as soon as possible, would pay back to his

+father the money wasted upon him at Erskine. He

+had intended becoming a teacher. But now that was

+impossible. Perhaps he could get employment from

+Billy Cromwell. But, whatever happened, he would

+not, having once reached home, go back to Erskine!</p>

+

+<p>Had Jack been less busy with his thoughts he might,

+perchance, have taken notice of a passenger who sat

+across the car and a little to the rear. He was a man

+of about forty years, with small, clearly cut features,

+brown eyes, and carefully trimmed mustache and beard.

+His attire was notably neat. In his mouth was a cigar,

+in his hands a morning paper, and at his feet a handsome

+suit-case. Ever since Jack’s advent he had been watching

+him over the top of his paper with a puzzled frown.

+The boy’s face, seen against the white light of the car

+window, expressed every passing emotion, and the passenger

+across the aisle, who was a good reader of expressions,

+felt a stirring of sympathy at the pervading

+look of despondency he saw.</p>

+

+<p>Presently the conductor entered, and Jack remembered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>

+that he must pay his fare. He felt for the little

+roll of money that was to take him home, first in his

+vest pocket, then in his trousers. Then, while an expression

+of bewilderment came over his face, he

+searched hurriedly in every pocket he possessed. The

+conductor came and waited patiently. Jack seized his

+valise and began to unstrap it. Then he paused and

+glanced uneasily at the conductor.</p>

+

+<p>“I can’t find my money,” he said. “If you’ll just

+give me a minute or two&mdash;” The other nodded and

+passed on down the car. Jack opened the valise and

+feverishly searched it. But when it was thoroughly

+upset he was forced to acknowledge with a sinking

+heart that the money was not there. He had taken

+it out of the trunk; he remembered doing that perfectly;

+he had meant to put it into his vest pocket.

+But it was not there.</p>

+

+<p>He stared blankly out of the window, still searching

+his clothes hopelessly. Well, he was not going

+home after all. Fate had intervened. Disappointed

+and chagrined, he counted the few coins in his trouser’s

+pocket and found that while they would pay his way

+to the next station they would not serve to take him

+back to Centerport. He blinked his eyes to keep back

+the tears. Tears, he reflected miserably, were always

+trying to crawl out nowadays. And then&mdash;</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p>

+

+<p><a href="#image06">“What’s wrong, Weatherby?”</a> asked a voice over

+his shoulder, and Jack looked up with startled eyes

+into the face of Professor White.</p>

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 397px;">

+<a name="image06" id="image06">

+  <img src="images/image06.jpg" width="397" height="600"

+       alt="“What’s wrong, Weatherby?”"

+       title="“What’s wrong, Weatherby?”" />

+</a><br />

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_99">“What’s wrong, Weatherby?”</a></div>

+</div>

+

+<p>For a moment his surprise kept him silent. And

+in that moment he saw in the professor’s face a

+kindliness that he had never before noticed. The

+professor’s brown eyes were plainly sympathetic and

+the professor’s lips held a little reassuring smile at

+their corners. And Jack, wondering more, found his

+tongue.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, that is hard luck,” said the professor when

+he had heard the story. “And you’re going home,

+you say? How much money will it take?”</p>

+

+<p>“About ten dollars,” answered Jack. The other

+shook his head.</p>

+

+<p>“That’s not much,” he replied, “but I’m sorry to

+say that it’s more than I’ve got with me. You see,

+I’m only going to Hampden, three stations up the line,

+and so didn’t bring much. But wouldn’t it do if you

+got off at the next station and went back and got your

+money? Would the delay matter? How long leave

+have you got?”</p>

+

+<p>The conductor came back and smiled questioningly

+at the pair. Jack shook his head.</p>

+

+<p>“I’ve got to go on,” he muttered.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, here now, I’ll pay your way to Hampden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>

+anyhow. That will give us time to consider things.

+Here you are, conductor.”</p>

+

+<p>When the change had been made and the professor

+was in possession of an elaborate rebate slip, the conductor

+went off and the professor removed Jack’s

+valise from the seat and sat down at the boy’s side.</p>

+

+<p>“How long are you going to be gone?” he asked

+pleasantly.</p>

+

+<p>Jack hesitated. Then&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>“I’m not coming back,” he answered defiantly.</p>

+

+<p>“What? Leaving college?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack nodded.</p>

+

+<p>“Why, how’s that? What’s the trouble?” questioned

+the professor kindly. “Nothing wrong at

+home, I hope?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, sir.”</p>

+

+<p>“Then what is it?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack was silent, looking scowlingly out of the window

+at the flying landscape of freshly green hills and

+meadows with an occasional glimpse of the sparkling

+river. He would accept the other’s help as far as

+Hampden, he decided; from there he would work his

+way home somehow; perhaps he could steal a ride now

+and then on the trains.</p>

+

+<p>“You don’t want to tell me, I see,” said Professor

+White. “And I dare say that’s natural, Weatherby.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>

+You and I have had a couple of unpleasant conversations,

+and I suppose the experience doesn’t recommend

+me as a confident. But you’re in some sort of trouble

+and I think you’d better make a clean breast of it and

+let me help you if I can.</p>

+

+<p>“And while we’re speaking of former encounters,

+Weatherby, I want to tell you that I made a mistake

+that day down at the coal wharf. I’ve got lots of

+faults, and one of the worst of them is an inclination

+to judge hastily. I accused you of cowardice that day,

+and I’ve regretted it very often since. I can understand

+how it might be possible for you to have hesitated

+about going into the river and yet not be guilty of

+cowardice in the strict sense. You see, I’ve given

+some thought to the matter, after it was a bit too late.

+I’ve been watching you since that day, and I think I

+made a mistake; I’m certain I did. And I want you

+to forgive me for the injustice I did you and for the

+hurt I inflicted. Will you?”</p>

+

+<p>“It doesn’t matter,” answered Jack drearily.

+“You only said what all the others thought. I guess

+it did hurt, but I don’t mind now; you see, there’s

+been a lot worse since then.”</p>

+

+<p>“Ah!” said the other comprehendingly. “I understand.

+Don’t you think you might tell me something

+about it, Weatherby?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>And after a doubtful glance at the professor’s face,

+in which he read only sympathy, Jack told him. He

+spoke bitterly, giving free rein to the pent-up anger

+and indignation of the past month; and, perhaps, he

+may be forgiven if unconsciously he exaggerated the

+tale of his troubles. When he had finished Professor

+White nodded gravely, and then, after a momentary

+silence, asked:</p>

+

+<p>“How old are you, Weatherby?”</p>

+

+<p>“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen in July.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’m not going to tell you that the thing

+is trivial, nor that were you older it would appear less

+tragic. Nothing is trivial that influences our lives, no

+matter how small it looks; and it is just the things

+that happen to us when we are young and receptive

+that are most important. I said I would help you if

+I could, and I’m going to. But in order to do it I

+must first convince you that I am your friend, and I

+fear that’s going to be difficult. And,” he added, as

+the train slowed down for the second station, “what’s

+more, I haven’t much time to do it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Friends,” said Jack sagely, “always advise you

+to do things you don’t want to.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I guess that’s so,” answered the professor,

+smiling. “And I think what I’m going to advise will

+prove me your friend.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Jack watched the coming and going on the station

+platform for a minute, then, as the train began to

+move again, he asked:</p>

+

+<p>“Would you mind telling me&mdash;what it is, sir?”</p>

+

+<p>“No; it’s this.” He laid a hand on the boy’s shoulder

+and spoke earnestly. “Come back, Weatherby,

+and have another try. Wait,” he continued, as the

+other started to speak, “let me finish first. I’m not

+going to belittle your trouble; it’s a big one and it’s

+hard to bear. But you’ve borne it for a month and

+more. You can bear it longer, if you try. Make up

+your mind to it and you’ll do it. From what I can

+see, Weatherby, you’ve given up the fight just on the

+verge of victory. A while back you had the whole

+college against you; now there is but one fellow actively

+opposed to you. From what you have told me I can

+see that Tidball believes in you, and Perkins, and King.

+They are all men of prominence and their views have

+weight. Hold on a little while longer and you’ll find

+that the college has come around to their way of thinking.

+If you give up now you’re losing a year of your

+life that you can’t catch up with again if you live to

+be a hundred. Stick it out and you’re a year nearer

+your degree. Besides, there are your parents, Weatherby;

+what are they going to think about it? Maybe

+they’ll say you’ve done right in leaving, but down in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>

+their hearts they are going to be disappointed over this

+wasted year.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack stared dumbly at his hands, and presently

+the other went on.</p>

+

+<p>“Come back, and I’ll do everything I can to help

+you, my boy. Just what that will be or what it will

+amount to, I can’t say at this moment; but what

+assistance I can give you may be certain of having.

+You won’t find it an empty promise.”</p>

+

+<p>He paused, and Jack looked up.</p>

+

+<p>“I wish I’d&mdash;wish I might have talked to you

+before,” he said.</p>

+

+<p>“So do I, Weatherby; but it isn’t too late now.

+I have a suspicion that you’ve come away without signing

+off. You needn’t tell me whether I’m right or

+wrong. But you may rest assured that there’ll be no

+trouble about it. To-morrow you and I’ll go back

+together and try it over.”</p>

+

+<p>“But what&mdash;where am I going to go now?” asked

+Jack dismally.</p>

+

+<p>“Why, you’ll come home with me, of course,”

+replied the professor. “No one need ever know but

+that you and I came off together. We’ll have to

+take a pretty early train back in the morning, but

+I guess you won’t mind that. My mother and sister

+will be very glad to see you, and&mdash; Hello,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>

+here we are! Grab your bag, Weatherby, and come

+along.”</p>

+

+<p>“But&mdash;” stammered the boy.</p>

+

+<p>“All right; you can tell me about that when you

+get outside. Besides,” he laughed, “you’ve got to get

+off here, anyhow; your fare is only paid this far.

+Hurry up, or we’ll both get left!”</p>

+

+<p>A moment later Jack found himself out on a sunny

+platform, dodging a baggage-truck and following his

+hurrying guide through the throng.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br />

+<small>ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>The morning after Jack’s departure Anthony

+turned in through the little gate at Mrs. Dorlon’s and

+strode quickly up the short path. The time was but

+a quarter before eight. The sun was out, but was

+hidden behind a low-lying bank of mist, through which

+it glowed wanly. In the elms along the street the

+sparrows were chattering and scolding until one would

+have thought that every family circle was in the midst

+of domestic strife, possible because of overlate worms

+or underdone beetles. It was a tepid sort of morning;

+the bricks in the pavement were wet with the fog and

+the air was warm. Anthony wore his coat-collar turned

+up, not to protect his throat, but to hide the fact that

+there was no other collar beneath. In his hand he carried

+a can of condensed milk and a little paper bag of

+coffee. He had been upset by the events of the preceding

+day and had neglected to replenish his provision

+cupboard; hence a postprandial journey to Main Street.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>As he climbed the stairs and caught sight of the

+half-opened door of Jack’s room, recollection of that

+youth returned to him and he sighed as he crossed the

+little hall and thrust his own door open. Then he

+stopped short and gave vent to an exclamation of surprise.

+The condensed milk dropped with a thud and

+rolled under the cot-bed. Jack, nodding drowsily in

+the rocker, opened his eyes and jumped to his feet.

+Then he grinned sheepishly.</p>

+

+<p>“I&mdash;I’ve come back,” he muttered.</p>

+

+<p>He partly extended his hand, thinking Anthony

+would take it. But the latter, after a moment of silent

+surprise, only said:</p>

+

+<p>“Well! I’m glad to see you.” He crawled

+awkwardly under the cot and recovered the milk.

+“Changed your mind, eh?” he asked, as he emerged.</p>

+

+<p>His voice was hearty enough, and he smiled behind

+his spectacles as though pleased, yet Jack felt a chill

+of disappointment and answered soberly:</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I changed my mind. I came back on an

+early train. You weren’t in and so I sat down to

+wait for you; I guess I must have come pretty near

+to falling asleep. Well, I must go to breakfast.”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony fought for a moment against the restraint

+which gripped him. When he spoke his tones held the

+old warmth.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Nonsense, Jack, stay here and have some with me.

+I haven’t any fatted calf to kill for you, but I can fry

+a couple of eggs and give you some good coffee,

+and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“I can’t drink coffee,” Jack answered, “but if

+you really want me to stay, I’ll be glad to. I&mdash;I’d

+rather not go to training-table this morning.”</p>

+

+<p>“Course I want you to,” answered Anthony.

+“Why can’t you drink coffee, though?”</p>

+

+<p>“Training.”</p>

+

+<p>“What? Why, coffee never hurt any one; best

+thing in the world, coffee; strengthening, elevating,

+enlarging; good for body and brain. But tell me all

+about your vacation.”</p>

+

+<p>And while Anthony bustled about over his little

+stove, handling pots and pans with a deftness remarkable

+in a person usually so awkward, Jack recounted

+his experiences rather shamefacedly.</p>

+

+<p>“Right about the professor, wasn’t I?” interrupted

+Anthony once.</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, you were. He’s mighty good, Anthony.

+He treated me as though I was the President; and so

+did his mother and sister. I had a bully little room

+with an open fireplace in it and blue roses all over

+the walls and all sorts of easy chairs made out of

+rattan stuff; and the sun just flooded in the window<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span>

+this morning. My, but I wish I lived there all the

+time!”</p>

+

+<p>“Sounds fine,” answered Anthony. “All aboard,

+now; draw up to the table and wade in. Guess you’ll

+have to use the rocker, unless you’d rather have this.

+Here’s the sugar. How about&mdash; Pshaw, you’re not

+going to drink coffee, are you? Have some water in

+the toothbrush mug? No? All right. Have an egg;

+that’s right, just slide it off. These rolls are good; I

+sprinkle the tops with water and heat ’em up on the

+stove. Sorry I haven’t more to offer you, though.

+Well, Jack, I’m glad you ran across White and came

+back. You’d been sorry&mdash;afterward&mdash;if you’d gone

+home; and so would I. And, by the way, what was

+it that set you going? What happened at the table

+yesterday morning? Your note was lacking in details.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack told about Gilberth’s behavior and Anthony’s

+eyes darkened behind his spectacles.</p>

+

+<p>“Ugly brute!” he muttered. “Ought to be

+spanked. But&mdash; Look here, don’t mind him, Jack;

+I don’t think he’s going to trouble you much after this.

+Just keep out of his way.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll try to. If&mdash;if he was a freshman, or even a

+soph, I’d fight him; but I can’t fight a senior!”</p>

+

+<p>“Huh! You won’t have to; he’s going to behave

+himself after this,” said Anthony grimly.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Well, I don’t know; anyhow, I’m going to stick

+it out now, no matter what happens,” Jack said stoutly.

+“That’s my last try at running away. If it hadn’t

+been for forgetting my money, I guess I’d have gone.

+Funny how it happened, wasn’t it? The worst of it is,

+I thought I’d left the money in my trunk, but I’ve

+looked and it isn’t there; I can’t find it anywhere. It

+was about all I had. I guess dad will be madder than

+a hatter when I write home for more.”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s too bad,” said Anthony. “If you want a

+little&mdash;a dollar or two, you know&mdash;to go on until you

+hear from home, I can let you have it as well as

+not.”</p>

+

+<p>“You’re awfully good,” answered Jack gratefully.

+“But it would be a nice thing for me to borrow from

+you, wouldn’t it? Don’t you think I know how hard

+up you are?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, well, you could pay it back, you know. If

+you’d rather, you could give me a mortgage on your

+clothes,” he added, smiling.</p>

+

+<p>“Then, if my money didn’t come, you might for-clothes,”

+laughed Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Running away from school seems to sharpen your

+wits,” said Anthony. “Have another egg? Won’t

+take a minute. Good; I like my guests to have appetites.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“You’d have one yourself if you’d been hauled

+out of a nice, soft bed at half-past six!”</p>

+

+<p>“Guess I would; but I wouldn’t make bad puns.”</p>

+

+<p>Presently, while the egg was sputtering in the pan,

+Jack asked, with a trace of embarrassment:</p>

+

+<p>“Did you&mdash;get that watch-charm?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes; much obliged,” was the answer. “Guess

+I’d better give it back now. Won’t need it to remember

+you by if you’re in the same hut with me, eh?”</p>

+

+<p>“I&mdash;I’d rather you did keep it, though, and wear

+it, if you don’t mind. Did you put it on your chain?”</p>

+

+<p>The fork fell into the pan, and Anthony fished it

+out with much muttering before he answered. Then&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>“Why, no, I didn’t, Jack. You see&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“I know; it isn’t very beautiful; just one I

+had.”</p>

+

+<p>“That isn’t the reason,” said Anthony without

+turning around. “Fact is, I’m not wearing my watch

+just now.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, aren’t you? Why&mdash;what&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, a fellow can’t have money to lend and a gold

+watch at the same time. Just at present I’m a moneylender.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I see,” Jack replied. But, nevertheless, he

+didn’t look satisfied with the explanation, and when

+Anthony returned to the breakfast-table with the egg<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>

+he had been frying the two finished the meal almost

+in silence.</p>

+

+<p>Thanks to the secrecy of the three persons who

+alone knew of Jack’s absence from Centerport, his return

+to the training-table at lunch-time occasioned no

+surprise. Joe Perkins looked bewildered for a moment,

+but said nothing. King called across the board and

+asked Jack where he’d been since the day before, and

+Jack calmly replied that he’d been home with Professor

+White overnight. Several pairs of eyebrows went up

+incredulously, but no one voiced his doubts. Gilberth

+took absolutely no notice of Jack, and, at least in so

+far as the latter was concerned, the meal went off

+pleasantly. He had expected to be called to account

+by the trainer, but Simson had eyes of his own and

+said nothing as long as luncheon was in progress.

+When it was over he questioned the captain. After

+a moment of hesitation, Joe told the trainer the facts

+of Jack’s absence as he knew them.</p>

+

+<p>“I think,” he said, “that the best thing to do is

+to take no notice this time. Weatherby may turn out

+a good man for us if he can get his mind on his work.

+But if this badgering continues he won’t be worth a

+continental; he’s all up in the air. Maybe you can

+give him a good word now and then, ‘Baldy’; the

+poor dub needs it all right.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Sure, I can,” answered the trainer. “Give the

+lad a chance; why not? I doubt he’s varsity material,

+cap, but he’s a decent spoken lad enough.”</p>

+

+<p>Tracy Gilberth walked back to his room after

+luncheon feeling very dissatisfied with life. He had

+not yet forgiven Joe for the lecture which the latter

+had delivered to him the day before. Tracy felt deeply

+wronged. He really believed that when he had publicly

+affronted Jack Weatherby that he had been

+performing a service to the college; that it was his duty

+to protest against the presence at the university of

+a fellow who had shown himself to be a coward. Tracy

+had a rather good opinion of himself and of his importance,

+and had never doubted that, since others had

+failed to act in the matter, it was his place to step to

+the front. The wigging he had received from Joe had

+surprised as well as disgruntled him, and his vanity

+still smarted.</p>

+

+<p>And what increased his annoyance was the fact that

+he had been “called down” by the one fellow of all

+whom Tracy really held in affection, and who, or so Tracy

+argued, should have been the very last to oppose him.

+Never before had the two, whose friendship dated back

+from their sophomore year, come so near to quarreling

+as they had yesterday. Differences of opinion they

+frequently had, but Tracy always retired from whatever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>

+position he held at the first sign of displeasure

+on the part of the other. But yesterday Tracy’s backdown

+had been incomplete; to-day he was not decided

+whether to do as Joe wanted him to and leave the

+obnoxious Weatherby strictly alone or to show his resentment

+by continuing his righteous persecution of

+that youth with some more than usually severe affront.

+In fact, Tracy hovered on the verge of open mutiny

+when, after climbing the first flight of stairs in Grace

+Hall, he turned to the left down the broad corridor

+and kicked open the unlatched door of his study.</p>

+

+<p>“Hello!” he exclaimed.</p>

+

+<p>“Hello!” was the response from the depths of a

+big leather armchair, and Anthony, who had been reclining

+with widely stretched legs and reading a magazine,

+placed the latter back on the mahogany writing-table

+and calmly faced his host. The two knew each

+other well enough to nod in passing, but never before

+had Anthony paid Tracy a visit, and the latter’s evident

+surprise was natural enough.</p>

+

+<p>“Found your door open,” explained Anthony, “so

+I came in and waited. Wanted to see you a minute or

+two, Gilberth.”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s all right; glad you made yourself comfortable,”

+answered the other.</p>

+

+<p>“Nice rooms you’ve got,” continued the visitor.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Oh, they do well enough,” Tracy replied carelessly.</p>

+

+<p>As a matter of fact they were the handsomest in

+college, and he knew it and was proud of it. The

+study was furnished throughout in mahogany upholstered

+in light-green leather, a combination of colors

+at first glance a trifle disconcerting, but which, when

+viewed in connection with the walls and draperies, was

+quite harmonious. The walls were covered to the height

+of five feet with denim of dark green. Above this a

+mahogany plate-rail ran about the apartment and held

+a few old pewter platters and tankards, some good

+pieces of luster-ware and a half-dozen bowls and pitchers

+of Japanese glaze. Above the shelf, buckram of a

+dull shade of mahogany red continued to the ceiling,

+where it gave way to cartridge-paper of a still lighter

+shade. The draperies at doors and windows were of

+the prevailing tones. The effect of the whole was one

+of cheerful dignity. The room was not overcrowded

+with furniture and the walls held a few pictures, and

+those of the best. There was a refreshing absence of

+small photographs and knickknacks. Tracy was proud

+of his taste in the matter of decoration and furnishing

+and proud of the result as here shown. Anthony liked

+the room without understanding it. Perhaps the little

+whimsical smile that curved his lips was summoned by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>

+a mental comparison of the present apartment and his

+own chamber with its cracked and stained whitewashed

+walls and povern fittings.</p>

+

+<p>“You wanted to see me, you said?” prompted

+Tracy.</p>

+

+<p>“Yes,” answered the visitor. “Maybe it will simplify

+matters if I start out by telling you that Jack

+Weatherby’s a particular friend of mine.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh,” said Tracy. “Well?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, don’t you think you’ve bothered him

+enough, Gilberth?”</p>

+

+<p>“Look here, Tidball, I don’t like your tone,” said

+Tracy with asperity.</p>

+

+<p>“Can’t help it,” answered Anthony. “I don’t like

+the way you’ve been hazing Weatherby. Now we

+know each other’s grievance.”</p>

+

+<p>“What I’ve done to Weatherby doesn’t concern

+you,” said Tracy hotly. “And I’m not to be dictated

+to. The fellow’s a coward and a bounder.”</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t know what bounder is,” answered the

+other dryly. “Doesn’t sound nice, though. Suppose

+we stop calling names? I might lose my temper and

+call you something, and you mightn’t like it, either.

+But I didn’t come up here to quarrel with you;

+don’t like to quarrel with a man in his room; doesn’t

+seem polite, does it? What I came to say is this,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>

+Gilberth: leave Weatherby alone or you’ll have me

+to deal with.”</p>

+

+<p>“Is that a threat?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I guess not; just a statement of fact.”</p>

+

+<p>“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” demanded

+Tracy angrily.</p>

+

+<p>“Guess not; keep on tormenting Weatherby and

+I’ll know you’re not.”</p>

+

+<p>“Now, look here, Tidball, if you want a row, you

+can have it right off. You don’t need to wait and see

+what happens to your precious friend. I’ll fight you

+any time you like. Do you want a fight?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, not particularly,” answered Anthony, with his

+most exasperating drawl. “Never fought any one in

+my life. Wouldn’t know how to go about it, I guess.

+Even&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, you’ll know all about it mighty soon if

+you don’t get out of here!”</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t think I shall. Haven’t any intention of

+fighting.”</p>

+

+<p>“Haven’t you, indeed? Well, what, I’d like to

+know, are you hinting at?”</p>

+

+<p>“Not hinting at all. You leave Weatherby alone

+or I’ll catch you in the yard and wallop you with a

+trunk-strap; but,” he added grimly, “there won’t be

+any fighting.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>He drew his long length out of the chair and took

+up his hat. Tracy, pale with anger, eyed him silently

+a moment. Then he leaped forward and sent him

+spinning back against the chair with a blow on the

+shoulder. The next moment he felt himself lifted

+bodily from his feet, turned head over heels, and deposited

+in that inglorious position on the broad leather

+couch. When things stopped revolving he saw Tidball’s

+calm face bending over him and felt his wrists

+held tightly together by fingers that grasped them like

+steel bands. He struggled violently until his opponent

+placed a bony knee on his chest. Then he subsided.</p>

+

+<p>“Now keep still and listen to me,” said Tidball in

+quiet, undisturbed tones. “I’m a peaceable fellow, and

+don’t fight. But if you don’t remember what I’ve told

+you, I’m going to grab you just like this some day&mdash;and

+it’ll be when there are plenty of men looking on,

+too&mdash;and I’m going to spank you with a trunk-strap.

+If you don’t believe me,” he added with a slight grin,

+“I’ll show you the strap!”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll&mdash;I’ll kill&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“No, you won’t do a thing,” the other interrupted

+sternly. “You’ll stay just where you are and behave

+yourself. If you don’t, I’ll lock you up in your bedroom;

+and that’s a liberty I don’t want to take.”</p>

+

+<p>He released Tracy and stepped back. Tracy leaped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span>

+to his feet, but something in the look of the eyes behind

+the steel-bowed spectacles persuaded him to keep his

+distance. Anthony picked up his hat from the floor,

+dusted it tenderly with his elbow, and walked to the

+door.</p>

+

+<p>“Sorry there was any trouble, Gilberth,” he said

+soberly. “Maybe I lost my temper; it’s a mean one

+sometimes. Think over what I said.” He closed the

+door noiselessly behind him, and Tracy, shaking and

+choking with wrath, groaned futilely.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br />

+<small>A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Jack sat on the players’ bench, chin in hands, elbows

+on knees, and watched Centerport High School

+go down in defeat. It was the first game of the season

+for the varsity, and, judged by high standards, it wasn’t

+anything to be proud of. At the end of the sixth

+inning the score was 9&mdash;0 in Erskine’s favor, and not

+one of the nine runs had been earned. The error column

+on the score-sheet was so filled with little round

+dots that, from where Jack sat, it looked as though

+some one had sprinkled it with pepper. If, so far,

+there had been any encouraging features they were undoubtedly

+Joe Perkins’s catching of Gilberth’s erratic

+curves and Knox’s work at shortstop. The outfield

+had conscientiously muffed every fly that had come its

+way, and only the quick recovery of the ball had, on

+several occasions, prevented High School from scoring.</p>

+

+<p>Joe Perkins looked disgusted whenever he walked

+to the bench, and the expression on the countenance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>

+of Hanson, the head coach, was one of bewilderment.

+“It’s simply wonderful!” Jack heard him confide to

+Joe. “I don’t see how they do it. I can understand

+how they can muff every other ball, say; but the

+whole-souled manner in which they let every one slide

+through their fingers is marvelous!” And Joe had

+smiled weakly and turned away.</p>

+

+<p>When the men trotted out for the beginning of the

+seventh, Jack slid along the bench to where Patterson,

+the team’s manager, was scowling over the score-book.

+Jack had never spoken to Patterson, and a week ago

+he would have hesitated a long while before risking a

+snub by doing so. But since his return from his

+“visit” with Professor White the treatment he had

+received from the other members of the team had been

+so decent that he was ceasing to look upon himself

+as a Pariah and was regaining some degree of assurance.

+He studied the book over the manager’s shoulder

+a moment. Then he asked:</p>

+

+<p>“Pretty poor, isn’t it? Do you think Perkins will

+put any more subs in?”</p>

+

+<p>Patterson glanced around with a flicker of surprise

+in his eyes. But his answer was friendly enough:</p>

+

+<p>“I don’t know what he’ll do. But if the subs can

+play any better than the men he’s got in there he’d

+better give ’em a chance. Where do you play?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Almost anywhere, I guess. They’ve had me at

+left-field, right-field, and second base. I guess I’ll be

+in the outfield if I get in at all.”</p>

+

+<p>“You’d better go out there and help Northup,”

+said the manager, as he credited Motter, at first base,

+with his third error. “I don’t suppose it matters much

+whether High School scores or not; only I would like

+to see Erskine have a clean record this year. And

+to get scored on in the first game looks pretty rotten.

+Who made that assist?”</p>

+

+<p>“Stiles. Can’t Gilberth pitch better than he’s

+doing to-day?”</p>

+

+<p>“Of course he can. He’s all right when he tries;

+he evidently thinks this game isn’t worth while. But

+I’ll wager that Hanson will have something to say to

+him afterward. Side’s out. Stiles at bat!”</p>

+

+<p>Erskine managed to find High School’s pitcher to

+good effect in the last of the seventh and piled up four

+more runs, two of them fairly earned. When Erskine

+trotted into the field again Hanson and Perkins had

+materially altered her batting list. King, who had been

+playing in left-field, went into the pitcher’s box, and

+Jack was sent out to left-field. Griffin succeeded Joe

+as catcher, Mears took Motter’s place at first, and Smith

+went in at shortstop.</p>

+

+<p>Jack watched events from his position over near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>

+the rail fence and was never once disturbed; for King

+retired the opposing batsmen in one, two, three order,

+and the sides again changed places. Jack didn’t have

+a chance to show what he could do with the stick, for

+High School, following Erskine’s lead, put a new man

+into the box, and the new man puzzled the batsmen

+so that only one reached first, and was left there when

+Billings, third-baseman, popped a short fly into the

+hands of High School’s shortstop. Jack trotted back

+to the rail fence very disgusted.</p>

+

+<p>It was the last inning. The sun was getting low

+and the chill of early evening caused Jack to swing his

+arms and prance around to keep the blood circulating.

+Over by the bench he could see them packing the bats

+away, and a little stream of spectators was filling around

+behind the back fence toward the gate. High School

+had reached the tail-end of her batting list again, and,

+to all appearances, the game was as good as finished.

+But last innings can’t always be depended upon to behave

+as expected. The present one proved this. High

+School’s first man at bat heroically tried to smash a

+long fly into outfield and, all by good luck, bunted the

+ball into the dust at his feet. After a moment of bewilderment,

+he put out for first and reached it at the

+same time as the ball. High School’s noisy supporters

+took new courage and awoke the echoes with their fantastic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>

+war-whoop. King looked bothered for an instant,

+and in that instant struck the next batsman on the elbow.

+The latter, rubbing the bruise and grinning

+joyfully, trotted to first and the man ahead took second.</p>

+

+<p>“Huh,” muttered Jack, rubbing his chilled hands

+together, “something doing, after all.”</p>

+

+<p>But King settled down then, and, after three

+attempts to catch the High School runner napping at

+second base, struck out the next man very nicely. The

+succeeding one, finding a straight ball, bunted it toward

+first, and, while he was tagged out by King, advanced

+the runners. High School’s supporters, gathered into

+a little bunch on the stand, waved their flags and ribbons,

+and shouted frantically. For surely, with men

+on third and second and their best batter selecting his

+stick, a run was not unlikely. Hanson shouted a command

+and King, repeating it, motioned the fielders in.

+Jack obeyed, doubtingly, for he had watched the present

+player and believed him capable of hitting hard.

+And so, although he made pretense of shortening

+field, he remained pretty much where he had been.

+And a moment later he was heartily glad of it.</p>

+

+<p>For the High School batsman, a tall, lanky, but

+very determined-looking youth, found King’s first delivery

+and raced for first. Along the base-lines the

+coaches were shouting unintelligible things and flourishing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>

+their caps. The runners on third and second were

+running home. In the outfield Bissell, center-fielder,

+was speeding back, cutting over into Jack’s territory

+as he went. Jack, too, was going up the field, yet

+cautiously, for the shadows were gathering and it was

+hard to tell where the little black speck up there against

+the purple sky was going to fall. Yet when, with a

+final glance over his shoulder, he took up his position,

+and heard Bissell, panting from his run, cry: “All

+yours, Weatherby!” he never doubted that he would

+catch it. To Jack a fly was merely a baseball that required

+catching; and he was there to catch it. So he

+took a step or two forward, put up his hands, and

+pulled it down. Then he threw it to second-baseman

+and trotted in.</p>

+

+<p>When he reached the plate the applause had died

+away and the remainder of the audience was hurrying

+off the field. The players were finding sweaters and,

+having thrown them over their shoulders, were hurrying

+across to the locker-house. Jack, searching for his own,

+heard Hanson’s voice behind him:</p>

+

+<p>“Well, Joe, we’ve got one man who can catch a

+ball, eh?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack knew that he wasn’t supposed to hear that

+remark, and so he took his time at pulling his white

+sweater out of the pile. When he turned, the head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>

+coach and captain were walking away. Jack followed,

+feeling very thankful that he had not missed his one

+chance of the game. As he entered the door he almost

+ran against the coach. Hanson smiled into his face as

+he stepped aside.</p>

+

+<p>“That was a very fair catch, Weatherby,” he said.</p>

+

+<p>And a moment later, when, wrapped only in a big

+bath-towel, he was hurrying to the shower-room,

+“Baldy” Simson clapped him on the back with a big

+hand.</p>

+

+<p>“That’s the lad now,” he cried heartily, adding

+then his invariable caution: “Easy with the hot water,

+and don’t go to sleep!”</p>

+

+<p>At dinner-table Jack thought the other fellows

+looked at him with something like respect. And all,

+he reflected, because he had caught a ball he couldn’t

+help catching!</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br />

+<small>JOE IS PESSIMISTIC</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>“Have you seen the editorial in the Purple?” asked

+King.</p>

+

+<p>Joe Perkins, who had pushed his book away as the

+other entered his study, swung around in his chair and

+shook his head.</p>

+

+<p>“About the mass-meeting?” he asked. “No, I

+haven’t seen the paper yet. What does it say?”</p>

+

+<p>Gregory King leaned over the table until the inky-smelling

+sheets of the college weekly were under the

+green glass shade of the student-lamp.</p>

+

+<p>“Listen, then, benighted one! ‘It is to be hoped

+that every student who can possibly do so will attend

+the mass-meeting to be held on Wednesday evening

+next in Grace Hall for the purpose of raising money

+for the expenses of the University baseball team. A

+victory over Robinson this spring decisive enough to

+obliterate&mdash;&mdash;’”</p>

+

+<p>“Hear! hear!” cried Joe.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Yes, elegant word, isn’t it?” grinned the other.

+“‘To obliterate the stigma of last year’s defeat is what

+every friend of the college hopes for and expects. But

+unless enough money is placed at the disposal of the

+management, to meet the expenses of the team, such a

+victory can not be secured. The nine has never been

+self-supporting and every spring it has started in with

+a deficit of from fifty to a hundred and fifty dollars,

+which has been paid by the Athletic Committee from

+the general fund. Heretofore the Committee has, besides

+making good the deficit, paid over to the baseball

+management sufficient money to carry the team through

+the first half of the season. This spring, however, the

+Committee is unable to do this. The football receipts

+last fall were scarcely more than half as large as usual,

+while the expenses were much greater. As a result,

+the sum at the disposal of the baseball team, the track

+team, and the crew is extremely small, and the former

+has received as its share the sum of one hundred and

+fifty dollars only&mdash;a sum not nearly sufficient to carry

+it through the first half of the season.</p>

+

+<p>“‘It becomes necessary, therefore, to secure funds

+from some other source. Subscriptions have been invited

+from the alumni, but the result of this step is

+uncertain. A popular subscription is necessary and will

+be asked at the meeting on Wednesday. The amount<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>

+required to insure the success of the nine is not large,

+and it is the duty of the student body to see that it is

+raised before the meeting is adjourned. Manager Patterson

+will make a statement of the association’s condition,

+and there will be addresses by Dean Levatt,

+Professor Nast, Coach Hanson, Captain Perkins, A. Z.

+Tidball, ’04, and others. It is to be hoped that the

+meeting will be attended by every member of the

+university.’”</p>

+

+<p>“Not bad,” commented Joe. “But whether Patterson

+has made a mistake by stating frankly that

+the meeting is called to secure money remains to be

+seen.”</p>

+

+<p>“What else could he say? The fellows aren’t going

+to be gulled into thinking that they’re invited to a

+mass-meeting to play ping-pong!”</p>

+

+<p>“I know, but there are lots of fellows who won’t

+come if they know they’re to be asked to dive into their

+pockets.”</p>

+

+<p>“Then let them stay away,” answered King forcibly.

+“Any chap that isn’t willing to give a dollar or

+two to beat Robinson isn’t worth bothering with!”</p>

+

+<p>“I dare say; but we’ve got to have a lot of money,

+and if every fellow of that sort stays away&mdash;” He

+shook his head doubtfully.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, get out! You’re pessimistic this evening.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>

+Cheer up; the tide’s coming in! We’ll get all the

+money we need, and lots more besides. You’ll see.”</p>

+

+<p>“Hope so. Fact is, Greg, I’m a bit down in the

+mouth over the showing we made Saturday. If we

+don’t do better Wednesday I sha’n’t blame the fellows

+if they refuse to pony up for us. A nine that plays

+ball like a lot of girls doesn’t deserve support.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, we were pretty rotten Saturday, Joe, and

+that’s the truth. But we’ll stand by you better next

+time. We’ll give a good exhibition of union-made,

+hand-sewn baseball on Wednesday that’ll tickle the college

+to death. By the way, there’s a long fairy tale

+from Collegetown here in the Purple about Robinson’s

+team. To read it you’d think they expected to walk all

+over us and everybody else. They’re talking about

+beating Artmouth next week! How’s that for immortal

+cheek?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, they’ve got a good nine, Greg, and they know

+it. And you and I know it. We might as well face it,

+too.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, what if they have? Great Scott, man,

+haven’t they had good nines lots of times before and

+been beaten out of their boots? What do we care for

+their old Voses and Condits and ‘Hard-hitting Hopkinses’?

+Maybe we’ve got a good battery ourselves,

+and a man or two who can slug the ball!”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Maybe we have,” answered Joe dryly, “but you

+couldn’t just name them, could you?”</p>

+

+<p>“Certainly I can name them! You’re just as good

+a catcher as that Condit wonder of theirs. And Gilberth

+can pitch all around Vose, when he wants to.

+And&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, when he wants to,” said Joe significantly.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, he will want to when it comes to Robinson,”

+said King.</p>

+

+<p>“Perhaps. And how about the hard sluggers?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, well, there’s Motter, and Billings, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Yourself; you’re a better batsman than either of

+them, Greg. But there’s no use in running down Hopkins;

+he’s a wonder at the bat; and we’ve got to get

+busy and turn out a few fellows like him. Saturday

+there wasn’t more than three decent hits made in the

+whole idiotic game.”</p>

+

+<p>“My cheerless friend, please forget Saturday,”

+begged King. “It wasn’t nice, I know, but it showed

+up the weak spots, and that’s something to be thankful

+for.”</p>

+

+<p>“Not when there’s nothing but spots,” lamented

+Joe.</p>

+

+<p>“Besides, we kept them from scoring; and for a

+while it looked as though we couldn’t.”</p>

+

+<p>“And even that was just a piece of good luck.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Good luck? Why, it didn’t seem so to me. I

+never saw a fielder look more certain of making a

+catch than Weatherby did. And the way he pulled

+down that ball was mighty pretty, too.”</p>

+

+<p>“I don’t mean that it was luck for him; I mean

+that it was just by luck that I put him in your place

+when you went into the box; I almost sent Lowe out

+there. If I had it’s dollars to cents he wouldn’t have

+judged that ball so as to have caught it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, all’s well that ends well, old chap. Cheer

+up! By the way, I was mighty glad Weatherby made

+that catch and kept our slate clean; for his sake, I

+mean. I’ve noticed that yesterday and to-day the fellows

+at the table have been very decent to him. I guess

+he rather made a hit with them Saturday.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’m glad of that,” Joe responded heartily. “To

+tell the truth, Greg, Weatherby’s been bothering me

+a good deal; Hanson and I picked him out for a good

+man, and I think he is, but all this badgering by the

+fellows has made him pretty near worthless. I hope

+to goodness it’s done with now.”</p>

+

+<p>“It’s been Tracy more than any one else,” said

+King. “He’s rather overdone it, I think.”</p>

+

+<p>“I should say so! The trouble with Tracy is that

+he gets it into his thick head that he’s a sort of public

+conscience, and you can’t get it out. I don’t think he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span>

+really intends to be mean; I’ve known him to do several

+mighty decent things&mdash;kind-hearted, you know.”</p>

+

+<p>“Seems as though his sense of proportion was out

+of gear; and you can’t faze him, either.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I don’t know; sometimes I manage to jar

+him a bit. I got at him last week and asked him to go

+easy on Weatherby, and so far he’s done it. I put it

+to him on the score of justice and that sort of thing,

+you know. I’ve noticed, by the way, that you’ve been

+kind of taking Weatherby’s part lately. Do you like

+him?”</p>

+

+<p>“I don’t know whether I do or don’t,” answered

+King slowly. “I think maybe I could like him very

+well if he’d give me a chance, but the trouble is he

+won’t let you get near him. He’s the most independent,

+stand-offish sort of chap ever.”</p>

+

+<p>“I know. It’s rather against him, that kind of

+thing. But I fancy, Greg, that that manner of his

+is sort of defensive; I don’t believe he’s really so independent

+as he is&mdash;well, shy. He thinks fellows don’t

+care to know him and so puts on that let-me-alone air

+just to hide the fact that he’s downhearted.”</p>

+

+<p>“Do you? Well, maybe you’re right. It never occurred

+to me.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes; and something Professor White said the

+other day bears me out. He came up to see me about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>

+Weatherby. It seems he’s taken rather a shine to him,

+and had him home with him overnight last week. He

+says that Weatherby’s frightfully cut up over the way

+the fellows have been treating him; thinks no one wants

+to have anything to do with him on account of that

+affair down at the river, you know, and is just about

+ready to throw up the sponge and light out. In

+fact&mdash;” Joe stopped, remembering that Anthony had

+requested him not to talk of Jack’s flight. “Anyhow,

+it seems rather a shame, don’t you think? The chap’s

+a nice-looking, gentlemanly sort, and apparently has lots

+of pluck, in spite of what happened at the wharf that

+day.”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s what I think. I believe the truth of that

+business is that Weatherby doesn’t know how to swim,

+Joe.”</p>

+

+<p>“Really? Did he ever say so?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, thunder, no! He never’s talked about it to

+me; I’d be scared to death to ask him. But that seems

+a reasonable sort of explanation, doesn’t it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, it does. And it’s funny that it never occurred

+to me. Somehow, you take it for granted here

+that every fellow knows how to swim; we’re such a

+lot of water-rats, you know. I believe you’ve hit it,

+Greg. But if that’s the case, why didn’t he out and

+say so?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Well, I don’t know. Maybe we didn’t give him a

+chance at first, and then, when he did have a show,

+maybe he got spunky and wouldn’t. It’s the sort of

+thing I could understand his doing.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, it is. Well, anyhow, he’s cut up more rumpus

+and made more worry than any freshie I ever

+knew. And I hope to goodness it’s over. I want him

+to play ball. Going? Don’t forget to drum up the

+meeting. Bring a crowd with you and start the enthusiasm

+early in the game. And, by the way, if you

+ever have a chance, you might just try and find out

+about Weatherby; whether he can swim, you know.

+So long, Greg.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack would have been distinctly surprised had he

+known that he was the subject of so much discussion.

+He was beginning to congratulate himself that the men

+with whom he associated seemed to have forgotten the

+unpleasant incident, and were, in a manner, making his

+acquaintance all over again. There was no denying

+the fact that since his performance of Saturday on the

+diamond the fellows at the training-table had shown

+themselves very friendly toward him. Of old he had

+usually eaten his meals in silence, save for an occasional

+word with Joe or King or the trainer. Nowadays the

+fellows greeted him as one of themselves, included him

+in their conversation, and even asked his opinion sometimes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>

+And unconsciously he was bidding for their

+friendship. He no longer answered all inquiries with

+monosyllables, but forgot his rôle of injured innocence

+and entered into the talk with sprightliness and interest.

+Once he had even made a joke. It was a good

+joke, but its effect was embarrassing. Every one was

+so surprised that for a full quarter of a minute not a

+sound greeted it. Then the table broke into laughter.

+But by that time Jack was all self-consciousness once

+more, and for the rest of the meal ate in silence.</p>

+

+<p>But his shyness wore off again, and by the middle

+of the week his companions had adopted a way of listening

+when he spoke as though what he had to say was

+worth hearing. The effect of this was like a tonic to

+Jack’s vanity. He began to recover his naturally good

+spirits and the change in him was noticeable. Anthony

+saw and was delighted.</p>

+

+<p>The friendship between him and the younger boy

+had worked back into its old lines. Sometimes, more

+and more infrequently as time passed, Jack thought

+he could detect a difference in Anthony’s attitude

+toward him; fancied that the other was reserved in

+manner. But the difference, if difference there was,

+was slight and did not seriously impair Jack’s enjoyment

+of Anthony’s friendship.</p>

+

+<p>Anthony himself in those days was not aware that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>

+he showed at times any of the doubts that assailed him.

+He did not mean to. He had argued with himself over

+the matter of the lost watch and had at length practically

+convinced himself that, despite all evidences

+against his friend, Jack was not guilty of theft. It

+is probable that even had Anthony detected Jack in

+the act of stealing he would still have kept much of

+his liking for the boy, even while detesting his offense.

+Anthony was big enough morally to view wrong-doing

+with pity as well as disfavor, and his affection for

+Jack&mdash;a big-hearted, generous affection&mdash;would have

+weighed in the boy’s favor.</p>

+

+<p>But Anthony had made up his mind to believe in

+the other’s innocence, and believe he did. Sometimes

+the doubts would creep back despite him, and it was

+at such times that Jack believed he detected a difference

+in Anthony’s manner toward him. Meanwhile,

+Anthony had purchased a wonderful alarm-clock for

+the sum of eighty-five cents; wonderful for the reason

+that it gained an hour each day as long as it stood on

+its feet, and lost twenty minutes each day if laid comfortably

+on its back. Anthony corrected it every evening

+by Jack’s watch, and persevered in his efforts to

+lead it back into a life of veracity and usefulness.</p>

+

+<p>“There’s some position,” he declared, “in which

+that thing will keep exact time. ’Tisn’t on its feet, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>

+’tisn’t on its back; it’s somewhere between. Patience

+and study will find the solution.”</p>

+

+<p>So he propped it at various angles with his books,

+and even laid it on its head, but whether the numerals

+XII pointed toward the floor, the ceiling, or the dormer-window

+the result was always surprising and never satisfactory.

+And finally, after he had once awakened

+and prepared his breakfast before discovering that the

+alarm had gone off at five instead of half-past six, he

+gave up the struggle, settled the timepiece firmly on

+its little legs, and accustomed himself to being always

+one hour ahead of the rest of the world.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br />

+<small>THE MASS-MEETING</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>On the Wednesday for which the mass-meeting was

+called Jack returned to the house at quarter after five,

+and, as was his custom, stopped in at Anthony’s room

+to spend half an hour before dinner. Anthony had

+improvised a window-seat out of a packing-case, covering

+it with an old red table-cloth and installing upon

+it his one cushion, a not over-soft and very flamboyant

+creation in purple and white. When Jack entered he

+found Anthony perched thereon before the open casement.

+The seat was not very long and so the occupant

+was obliged to either let his legs hang over the edge

+or fold them up beneath him. At present he had

+adopted the latter tactics, and a ludicrous figure he

+presented. Jack subsided on to the edge of the bed and

+giggled with delight until Anthony tossed the book he

+was studying at his head.</p>

+

+<p>“What are you crying about?” he demanded.</p>

+

+<p>“I’m not cr&mdash;crying,” gurgled Jack. “I’m la&mdash;laughing

+at you.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“What’s the matter with me?”</p>

+

+<p>“You look so&mdash;so funny!”</p>

+

+<p>“Do I?” Anthony grinned and unfolded himself.

+“I was thinking a while ago that I was like a pair of

+scissors I saw once. The blades tucked back against

+the handles. How’d the game come out?”</p>

+

+<p>“Pretty well; seven to nothing. Millport came

+pretty near getting a run in the fourth, but after that

+she didn’t have a ghost of a show. I didn’t, either.

+I didn’t get in for a minute; just sat on that old bench

+and looked on and nearly froze to death.”</p>

+

+<p>“Too bad,” sympathized Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“Wasn’t it? However, I don’t care very much.

+Hanson sat with me a while and we had a long

+talk. He knows a whole lot about baseball; stuff I

+never thought of; scientific part of the game, you

+know.”</p>

+

+<p>“Hanged if I do!” answered Anthony. “I don’t

+know a baseball from a longstop.”</p>

+

+<p>“A what?” gasped Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Longstop; isn’t that it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Shortstop, you mean.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, knew it was some kind of a stop. Might

+as well call it one thing as the other, I guess.”</p>

+

+<p>“Why don’t you come out and see a game some

+day?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Going to some afternoon, when I’ve nothing to

+do.”</p>

+

+<p>“Huh! I guess you’ll never come, then. You’re

+always grinding.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I’ll take a vacation some Saturday and go

+and watch you play.”</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t know whether you will or not,” said Jack

+dolefully. “King played in left-field all the game

+to-day. Pretty nearly every sub except me went in.

+I wish they’d give me a place to try for and let me

+see if I can’t make it. I hope, though, they don’t put

+me out in the field. Perkins told me yesterday that

+there’s no use in my trying for pitcher this year, and I

+guess he’s right. Gilberth played a great game to-day;

+struck seven men out and gave only two bases.”</p>

+

+<p>“How are you and he getting on nowadays?”

+Anthony asked.</p>

+

+<p>“All right. He never has anything to say to me,

+and I let him alone.”</p>

+

+<p>“Guess he won’t trouble you any more,” said

+Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“Perhaps not. Sometimes, though, I think he’s

+saving up for something particularly unpleasant. I

+don’t care, though. He can go hang.”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony closed the window, drew down the stained

+green shade, and lighted the gas-stove. Jack lay back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span>

+on the bed for a time and watched the dinner preparations

+in silence.</p>

+

+<p>“What’s the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pièce de résistance</i> to-night?” he

+finally asked, as there came a sputtering from the pan.</p>

+

+<p>“Hamburger steak with onions,” answered Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“Ugh!”</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t you like it?” asked his host in surprise.</p>

+

+<p>“Not a bit; and I don’t like the beastly smell,

+either. So I’m going home.” He stretched his arms

+luxuriously and sat up. Then, “Did you ever wish you

+were rich, Anthony?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>Anthony paused a moment with fork outstretched,

+and looked thoughtfully across the room. Finally, he

+shook his head.</p>

+

+<p>“No, I don’t believe I ever did. What’s the use?”</p>

+

+<p>“No use, I suppose. But I have, often. I wish

+so now. Do you know what I’d do if I had fifty thousand

+dollars?”</p>

+

+<p>“No; but something silly, I guess,” answered the

+other, prodding the steak till it sizzled.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’d throw that foolish, lying clock out of

+the window and get your watch back. Then I’d take

+you to&mdash;to&mdash;Boston, I guess, and buy you a ripping

+good dinner for once in your life. We’d have quail

+and asparagus, and&mdash; Do you like chocolate éclairs?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Don’t know; never ate any. What are they

+like?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, we’d have them, anyway. Wish I had one

+now. And&mdash; But I’m getting hungry, myself.”</p>

+

+<p>“Better stay and have some Hamburger and

+onions,” advised Anthony, with a smile. But Jack

+fled toward the door, ostentatiously holding his nose.</p>

+

+<p>At half past seven they set out for the mass-meeting

+together. When they had crossed the Common

+and had entered the yard they found themselves in one

+of a number of little eddies of laughing, chattering fellows

+that flowed across the campus and merged in front

+of Grace Hall into a stream that filled the doorway and

+staircase from side to side.</p>

+

+<p>“Going to have a full house,” observed Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>At the door of the meeting-room they ran into Joe

+Perkins. He grabbed Anthony and sent him, under

+charge of Patterson, the manager, to a seat on the platform.

+Then he put a detaining hand on Jack’s arm.</p>

+

+<p>“Cheer like everything, Weatherby!” he whispered.</p>

+

+<p>Then a six-foot sophomore, leading a flying wedge

+consisting of a handful of his classmates, bucked Jack

+between the shoulders and he went rushing up the aisle,

+tossing the crowd to either side, until he managed to

+avoid the men behind by slipping into a vacant seat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>

+The big sophomore banged him on the shoulder as he

+charged on. “Bully interference!” he cried. Followed

+by his companions, he leaped over the intervening row

+of occupied seats and subsided in a heap among a

+little throng of delighted friends. “Down here!” he

+yelled. Some one imitated a referee’s whistle and a

+falsetto voice called: “Third down and a yard to

+gain!”</p>

+

+<p>Jack found himself seated next to a group of second-nine

+men. The little freshman Clover was his immediate

+neighbor, and beyond that youth sat Showell,

+the fellow whom Jack had fooled with his pitching on

+that first day of outdoor practise. They had met but

+seldom since then, but Showell had never missed an

+opportunity to annoy Jack, if possible, or, failing that,

+to show his dislike. His annoyances usually took the

+form of allusions to the incident at the river, plain

+enough, yet so petty that Jack never regarded them

+as worth noticing. Clover greeted Jack with evident

+pleasure. The latter returned his greeting and then

+nodded to the fellows farther along. Only Showell

+failed to respond. Turning to the man on the other

+side of him he asked:</p>

+

+<p>“Been down to the river lately?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, cut it out,” growled his neighbor, scowling

+at him.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Cut what out?” asked Showell, pretending great

+bewilderment. “The river?”</p>

+

+<p>“Let him alone, can’t you?” whispered the other.</p>

+

+<p>“If you can’t, take your old jokes somewhere else,”

+advised Clover. Jack had not missed any of it, and for

+the first time Showell’s pleasantries aroused his anger.</p>

+

+<p>“What’s the matter with you dubs?” Showell

+asked, grinning. “Can’t I talk about the river? All

+right, then, I’ll talk about the weather. Nice, dry

+evening, isn’t it? Any of you fellows get your feet

+wet?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack touched Clover on the shoulder. “Do you

+mind changing seats with me?” he asked. Clover

+looked doubtful a moment; then he got up and Jack

+slipped along into his place. Showell watched the proceedings

+with surprise, and when he found Jack beside

+him turned his gaze uneasily ahead and for the rest

+of the evening attempted to look unconscious of the

+other’s presence. But, what with the grins and whispering

+of his friends, it is doubtful if he enjoyed himself.</p>

+

+<p>The senior president made his little speech and introduced

+the dean. The latter, who never was much

+of an orator, said just what everybody knew he would

+say, and was succeeded by Patterson, the manager.

+Patterson explained the needs of the Baseball Association,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>

+and Professor Nast, chairman of the Athletic

+Committee, followed and urged the students to come

+to the support of the team. Neither his remarks nor

+Patterson’s awakened any enthusiasm, and the cheers

+which followed were plainly to order. Some one at

+the rear of the hall started a football song and one by

+one the audience took up the refrain. Perkins, who

+had stepped to the front of the platform, paused and

+glanced inquiringly at the head coach. The latter

+shook his head and Joe turned away again.</p>

+

+<p>“Let them sing,” whispered Hanson. “It’ll warm

+them up.”</p>

+

+<p>But as soon as it was discovered that there was

+no opposition the singing died away. King was on

+his feet then, calling for cheers for Captain Perkins.

+They were given loudly enough, but lacked spontaneity.

+Joe’s speech was short, but had the right ring, and

+several allusions to past successes of the nine and future

+victories awakened applause. But when he had taken

+his seat again and the cheering, in spite of the efforts

+of King and Bissell and others of the team, had ceased,

+it was evident that the meeting was bound to be a flat

+failure unless something was done to wake it up.</p>

+

+<p>Hanson, who was down as the next speaker, called

+Joe to him, and for a minute they whispered together.

+Then Joe crossed the stage and spoke to Anthony.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>

+At the back of the room there was a perceptible impatience;

+several fellows had already tiptoed out, and

+there was much scraping of feet. Joe heard it and

+held up his hand. Then Anthony lifted himself up out

+of the ridiculously small chair in which he had been

+seated and moved awkwardly to the front of the platform.

+Instantly there was the sound of clapping, succeeded

+by the cry of “A&mdash;a&mdash;ay, Tidball!” Anthony

+settled his spectacles on his nose and thrust his big

+hands into his trouser’s pockets.</p>

+

+<p>“Good old Tidball!” cried some one; the remark

+summoned laughter and clapping; men on their feet

+and edging toward the door paused and turned back;

+those who had kept their seats settled themselves more

+comfortably and looked expectant. The senior class

+president jumped to his feet and called for a cheer, and

+the response was encouragingly hearty. Joe threw a

+satisfied glance at Hanson and the latter nodded. The

+tumult died down and Anthony, who had been facing

+the gathering with calm and serious countenance, began

+to speak.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br />

+<small>ANTHONY ON BASEBALL</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>“Well,” commenced Anthony, in his even, deliberate

+drawl, “you had your chance to get out, and

+didn’t take it. I guess you’re in for it. I’ve been requested

+to speak to you about baseball. I told Captain

+Perkins that I didn’t know a baseball from a frozen

+turnip, but he said that made it all the better; that

+if I didn’t know what I was talking about you would

+realize that I was absolutely unprejudiced and my words

+would carry more weight. I said, ‘How are you going

+to get the fellows to listen to me?’ He said, ‘We’ll

+lock the doors.’ I guess they’re locked.”</p>

+

+<p>Half his audience turned to look, and the rest

+laughed.</p>

+

+<p>“Anyhow,” Anthony continued, “he kept his part

+of the agreement, and so I’ll have to keep mine. I’ve

+said frankly that I know nothing about baseball, and

+I hope that you will all pardon any mistakes I may

+make in discussing the subject. I never saw but one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>

+game, and after it was over I knew less about it than

+I did before. A fellow I knew played&mdash;well, I don’t

+know just what he did play; most of the time he danced

+around a bag of salt or something that some one had

+left out on the grass. There were three of those bags,

+and his was the one on the southeast corner. When

+the game was over he asked me how I liked it. I

+said, ‘It looks to me like a good game for a lunatic

+asylum.’ He said I showed ignorance; that it was the

+best game in the world, and just full up and slopping

+over with science. I didn’t argue with him. But I’ve

+always thought that if I had to play baseball I’d choose

+to be the fellow that wears a black alpaca coat and

+does the talking. Seems to me he’s the only one that

+remains sane. I asked my friend if he was the keeper;

+he said no, he was the umpire.”</p>

+

+<p>By this time the laughter was almost continuous,

+but Anthony’s expression of calm gravity remained unbroken.

+At times he appeared surprised and disturbed

+by the bursts of laughter; and a small freshman in the

+front row toppled out of his seat and had to be thumped

+on the back. Even the dean was chuckling.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, science has always been a weak point with

+me, and I guess that’s why I’m not able to understand

+the science of hitting a ball with a wagon-spoke and

+running over salt-bags. But I’m not so narrow-minded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>

+as to affirm that because I can’t see the science it isn’t

+there. You’ve all heard about Abraham Lincoln and

+the book-agent, I guess. The book-agent wanted him

+to write a testimonial for his book. Lincoln wrote it.

+It ran something like this: ‘Any person who likes this

+kind of a book will find this just the kind of a book

+he likes.’ Well, that’s about my idea of baseball; anybody

+who likes that kind of a game will find baseball

+just the kind of a game he likes.</p>

+

+<p>“Now, they tell me that down at Robinson they’ve

+found an old wagon-wheel, cut the fingers off a pair

+of kid gloves, bought a wire bird-cage, and started a

+baseball club. All right. Let ’em. There are other

+wheels and more gloves and another bird-cage, I guess.

+Captain Perkins says he has a club, too. I’ve never

+seen it, but I don’t doubt his word; any man with

+Titian hair tells the truth. He says he keeps it out

+at the field. From what I’ve seen of baseball clubs I

+think that’s a good, safe place. I hope, however, that

+he locks the gates when he leaves ’em. But Captain

+Perkins tells me that he has the finest kind of a baseball

+club that ever gibbered, and he offers to bet me

+a suspender buckle against a pants button that his club

+can knock the spots off of any other club, and especially

+the Robinson club. I’m not a betting man, and so I

+let him boast.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“And after he’d boasted until he’d tired himself

+out he went on to say that baseball clubs were like

+any other aggregation of mortals; that they have to

+be clothed and fed, and, moreover, when they go away

+to mingle with other clubs they have to have their

+railway fare paid. Captain Perkins, as I’ve said once

+already, is a truthful man, and so I don’t see but that

+we’ve got to believe him. He says that his club hasn’t

+any money; that if it doesn’t get some money it will

+grow pale and thin and emaciated, and won’t be able

+to run around the salt-bags as violently as the Robinson

+club; in which case the keeper&mdash;I mean the umpire&mdash;will

+give the game to Robinson. Well, now, what’s to

+be done? Are we to stand idly by with our hands in

+our pockets and see Robinson walk off with a game

+that is really our property? Or are we to take our

+hands out of our pockets, with the fingers closed, and

+jingle some coins into the collection-box?</p>

+

+<p>“I’m not a baseball enthusiast, as I’ve acknowledged,

+but I am an Erskine enthusiast, fellows. Perkins

+says we ought to beat Robinson at baseball. I say

+let’s do it! I say let’s beat Robinson at everything.

+If anybody will start a parchesi club I’ll go along and

+stand by and yell while they down the Robinson parchesi

+club. That’s what Providence made Robinson

+for&mdash;to be beaten. Providence looked over the situation<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>

+and said: ‘There’s Erskine, with nothing to beat.’

+Then Providence made Robinson. And we started in

+and beat her. And we’ve been beating her ever since&mdash;when

+she hasn’t beaten us.</p>

+

+<p>“I’ve done a whole lot of talking here this evening,

+and I guess you’re all tired of it.” (There was

+loud and continued dissent at this point, interspersed

+with cries of “Good old Tidball!”) “But I promised

+to talk, and I like to give good measure. But the time

+for talking is about up. Mr. Hanson has something to

+say to you, and as he knows what he’s going to talk

+about, whereas I don’t know what I’m talking about,

+I guess I’d better stop and give him a show. But before

+I stop I want to point out a self-evident fact, fellows.

+You can’t win from Robinson without a baseball

+team, and you can’t have a baseball team unless

+you dig down in your pockets and pay up. Manager

+Patterson says the Baseball Association needs the sum

+of six hundred dollars. Well, let’s give it to ’em. Any

+fellow here to-night who thinks a victory over Robinson

+isn’t worth six hundred dollars is invited to stand

+up and walk out; we’ll unlock the door for him. Six

+hundred dollars means only about one dollar for each

+fellow. I am requested to state that after Mr. Hanson

+has spoken his piece a few of the best-looking men

+among us will pass through the audience with small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>

+cards upon which every man is asked to write his name

+and the amount he is willing to contribute to secure

+a victory over Robinson that will make last year’s score

+look like an infinitesimal fraction. If some one will

+go through the motions, I’d like to propose three long

+Erskines, three times three and three long Erskines for

+the nine.”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony bowed and sat down. The senior class

+president sprang to his feet, and the next moment the

+hall was thunderous with the mighty cheers that followed

+his “One, two, three!” Then came calls of

+“Tidball! Tidball!” and again the slogan was taken

+up. It was fully five minutes ere the head coach arose.

+And when he in turn stood at the platform’s edge the

+cheers began once more, for enthusiasm reigned at

+last.</p>

+

+<p>Hanson realized that further speechmaking was

+idle and confined his remarks to an indorsement of what

+Anthony had said. The distribution of blank slips of

+paper had already begun and his audience paid but

+little attention to his words, although it applauded

+good-naturedly. When he had ended, promising on

+behalf of the team, and in return for the support of

+the college, the best efforts of players and coaches, confusion

+reigned supreme. Pencils and fountain pens

+were passed hither and thither, jokes were bandied,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>

+songs were sung, and the tumult increased with the pushing

+aside of chairs and the scraping of feet as the meeting

+began to break up. But, though some left as soon

+as they had filled out their pledges, the greater number

+flocked into noisy groups and awaited the announcement

+of the result.</p>

+

+<p>At length, Professor Nast accepted the slip of

+paper handed him by Patterson and advanced to the

+edge of the platform. There, he raised a hand for attention,

+and at the same time glanced at the figures.

+An expression of incredulity overspread his face, and

+he turned an inquiring look upon the manager. The

+latter smiled and nodded, as though to dispel the professor’s

+doubts. The hubbub died away, and the professor

+faced the meeting again.</p>

+

+<p>“I am asked,” he said, “to announce the result of

+the&mdash;ah&mdash;subscription. Where every one has responded

+so promptly and so heartily to the appeal in

+behalf of the association, it would be, perhaps, unfair

+to give the names of any who have been exceptionally

+generous. But without doing so it remains a pleasant&mdash;ah&mdash;privilege

+to state that among the subscriptions

+there is one of fifty dollars&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>Loud applause greeted this announcement, and fellows

+of notoriously empty pocket-books were accused

+by their friends of being the unnamed benefactor, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>

+invariably acknowledged the impeachment with profuse

+expressions of modesty.</p>

+

+<p>“Three of twenty-five dollars,” continued the professor,

+“six of ten dollars, seventeen of five dollars, and

+many of two dollars and over. The total subscription,

+strange as it may seem, reaches the sum of five hundred

+and ninety-nine dollars, one dollar less than the

+amount asked for!”</p>

+

+<p>There was a moment of silent surprise. Then, from

+somewhere at the left of the room, a voice cried:

+“Here you are, then!” and something went spinning

+through the air. The head coach leaped forward,

+caught it deftly, and held it aloft. It was a shining

+silver dollar.</p>

+

+<p>“Thank you,” he said.</p>

+

+<p>The incident tickled the throng, and cheers and

+laughter struggled for supremacy. Jack pushed his

+way to the door, and remained there waiting for Anthony,

+one hand groping lonesomely in a trouser pocket

+where a minute or two before had snuggled his last

+coin.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br />

+<small>JACK COURTS THE MUSE</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>April passed into May, and uncertain skies gave

+way to placid expanses of blue, whereon soft fluffs of

+white moved slowly, blown by warm and gentle winds.

+Down at the boat-house, bare-legged and bare-headed,

+men filed across the floats, bearing the slender, glinting

+shells, or, with hands on oars, bent and unbent in unison

+to the sharp commands of important and diminutive

+coxswains; on the newly rolled cinder-track other men

+sped or jogged, heads well back and knees high, with

+white trunks fluttering in the breeze; in front of the

+stand the jumpers and pole-vaulters plumped themselves

+into the freshly spaded loam; on the diamond,

+brilliantly green in its carpet of carefully tended turf,

+the players darted hither and thither amid the crack

+of batted ball and the cries of coaches.</p>

+

+<p>By the beginning of the second week in May, baseball

+affairs had assumed a more encouraging look. The

+training-table had taken on six more men&mdash;among them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>

+Showell and Clover&mdash;and the unsuccessful candidates

+had gone to the freshmen team or found other branches

+of athletics to interest them. Erskine had played eight

+games, had won six, tied one, and lost one. What was

+practically a preliminary season was well-nigh over and

+with the middle of the month the serious contests would

+begin.</p>

+

+<p>Meanwhile, Jack had found himself. After a vicarious

+existence as a general outfield substitute, he had

+settled down as substitute second-baseman, a position

+which he had never attempted hitherto, but one which

+he took to in a way that vindicated his right to it. He

+showed that he possessed the three essentials of a good

+second-baseman: coolness, quickness, and judgment.

+With the exception of third base, second is the most

+difficult of the infield positions; it has been called

+the “keystone of the infield,” and that very aptly.

+So far as handling the ball is concerned&mdash;that is, catching,

+stopping, or throwing&mdash;second-baseman has no

+harder work than shortstop or third-baseman; it is

+in studying the batsman that he encounters his difficulties.</p>

+

+<p>Jack started in with a good knowledge of the fundamentals

+of baseball and took kindly to coaching.

+Gradually he acquired the intuitive sense which enabled

+him to tell where the ball was going before it had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>

+left the bat, and to govern himself accordingly. He

+learned that a nine’s success depends upon team-work

+and not upon individual brilliancy, and to control his

+zeal; to anticipate the shortstop’s movements and to

+know, without looking, where that player and the third-baseman

+were; to keep always in mind that the best

+policy is to put out the runner nearest home; and much

+more besides.</p>

+

+<p>With a definite position to try for, Jack found it

+much easier to put every effort into playing. Even the

+fact that “Wally” Stiles, the first choice for second-baseman,

+would in all likelihood play out the big games,

+those with Harvard, Artmouth, and Robinson, did not

+trouble him. There would be other games which, if

+less important, were well worth winning, and in those

+he would probably take part.</p>

+

+<p>So Jack put his whole mind into learning his position,

+studying its possibilities, developing an eighth

+sense, which enabled him time and again to judge almost

+with exactitude in what direction, and how far, the ball,

+scarcely away from the bat, was going, and learning,

+too, to “size up” a batsman’s prowess from the way

+he stood and looked and swung his stick. I have said

+that he possessed a good knowledge of the fundamentals

+of the game when he started in; but there were still

+things to learn which his baseball education had not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>

+taught, such little niceties as stopping grounders with

+his feet together so that, in case of a miss, the ball

+could not go between his legs, and, after catching or

+stopping a ball, to start at once toward the point whither

+the ball was to be thrown instead of standing still, so

+that by the time he had gathered himself for the throw

+the distance for the ball to travel had been lessened;

+little things these, but of the sort that win or lose a

+game.</p>

+

+<p>One thing that had a deal to do with Jack’s ability

+to put his heart into his work on the diamond was the

+attitude of the other players toward him. Had the

+old scarcely concealed contempt and dislike been manifested

+he could never have shown up as varsity material.

+But that was past. In the minds of most of the fellows

+time had dimmed the memory of the incident at the

+river, now nearly three months ago, and Jack’s attitude

+and behavior of late had aided.</p>

+

+<p>For a while the neutrality observed by Gilberth

+made him suspicious that the pitcher was only husbanding

+his powers of annoyance in order to indulge in

+some more than usually brutal expression of contempt.

+But, as time went by, Jack was forced to conclude that

+hostilities from that source were over. At length, the

+neutrality was succeeded by a show of friendliness. It

+was impossible to practise together day after day without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span>

+an occasional word or two, and Jack and Tracy

+soon found themselves in the habit of greeting each

+other when they met, very ceremoniously, to be sure,

+and of sometimes exchanging observations on the bench

+much after the manner of slight acquaintances who find

+themselves thrown together at a party. Jack was very

+glad. The old thirst for vengeance on his enemies had

+wasted perceptibly under the influence of congenial

+companionship, and he was ready to cry quits. Just

+what Tracy’s sentiments were at this time it is hard

+to say; it is doubtful if he knew himself.</p>

+

+<p>He had made up his mind to let Jack alone, and

+was doing it. Only one thing troubled him, and that

+was the fear that Anthony Tidball might think that his

+course was the result of the other’s threats. And it

+is only fair to state on behalf of Tracy’s physical courage

+that such was not the case. Joe Perkins’s remonstrances

+had borne weight, and when, shortly after

+Anthony’s visit, Professor White had added his request,

+Tracy had decided that, after all, he had possibly mistaken

+the sentiment of the college. Professor White

+had said to him very much the same things that Joe

+had said, but he had put them more convincingly. He

+knew Tracy, and did not make the mistake of ruffling

+his temper; on the contrary, when he had left, Tracy

+felt that there was one person at Erskine who understood<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>

+him. And for the sake of that person and of

+Joe he would do as they asked him.</p>

+

+<p>Professor White’s efforts in Jack’s behalf were not

+limited to the talk with Tracy. He saw Joe Perkins

+and Hanson and King and several others with whom

+Jack came in daily contact and asked for the boy fair

+treatment. And he encouraged Jack to visit him and,

+when the latter did so, used every effort to hearten

+him. On the whole, it is safe to say that to the professor

+belonged a greater part of the credit for the

+betterment of the boy’s condition. Such was the state

+of affairs when, on a certain Saturday evening, about

+the middle of the month, Jack and Anthony sat talking

+on the edge of Mrs. Dorlon’s porch.</p>

+

+<p>Anthony had washed up his supper dishes and Jack

+had just strolled back from dinner at the training-table.

+The moon, well into its first quarter, was sailing in a

+clear sky over the tops of the elms in the yard. The

+evening was musical with the hum and whirr of early

+insects and the varied sounds from open windows.

+Somewhere farther up the curve of Elm Street an uncertain

+hand was coaxing the strains of Mandalay from

+a guitar, and now and then the faint music of a piano

+floated across from Walton Hall. Anthony had lighted

+his pipe and, with its bowl aglow in the dusk, was

+leaning against a pillar, one knee tucked up under his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>

+chin. Jack sat a yard away, his hands in his pockets,

+staring up at the moon.</p>

+

+<p>“Did you ever write poetry, Anthony?” he asked

+suddenly.</p>

+

+<p>“No.” Anthony sucked reflectively at the pipe and

+shook his head slowly. “No, I’ve had the measles and

+whooping-cough and scarlatina, but I’ve never had

+poetry yet. Of course, I’ve tried my hand at blank

+verse in Latin, but it wasn’t poetry; even the instructor

+acknowledged that.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I meant just plain every-day poetry, you

+know,” Jack explained. “I thought if you had you

+could tell me something about it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I didn’t say that I didn’t know poetry when

+I saw it,” answered Anthony. “I’ve read a good deal

+of it, you see. What do you want to know?”</p>

+

+<p>“I want to know whether you have to have all

+your lines rhyme.”</p>

+

+<p>“Depends, I guess. What are you going to do,

+anyway, turn into a poet?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, only I thought I’d try my hand at writing

+some verses for the fellows to sing at the games, you

+know. The Purple says we ought to have some new

+songs for the Robinson game.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh. Well, now, from what I’ve seen of such

+things it doesn’t matter any whether lines rhyme or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>

+don’t rhyme, I should say. As long as the words fit

+the music the rhymes just hump along as best they

+can. Have you written anything yet?”</p>

+

+<p>“N&mdash;no, not exactly,” answered Jack cautiously.

+“I’ve got an idea, but I didn’t quite know about rhyming.

+Of course, all the poetry you read rhymes all

+through, like Tennyson, or else it doesn’t rhyme at all,

+like Milton. What I was wondering was whether it

+was all right to just rhyme now and then, you know,

+when you could, and not bother about it when you&mdash;you

+can’t. What do you think?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I’d just do the best I could and not worry,”

+answered the other gravely. “The&mdash;hum&mdash;sentiment

+seems to be the most important thing about college

+songs.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I suppose so. It’s funny how few rhymes

+there are when you come to look for them,” said Jack

+thoughtfully. “Now there’s ‘purple’; I can’t find

+anything to rhyme with that.”</p>

+

+<p>“Purple? Now that does sound difficult. Let’s

+see; I guess ‘turtle’ wouldn’t do, eh?”</p>

+

+<p>“I’m afraid not. I’ve tried everything. I thought

+maybe it wouldn’t matter if it didn’t rhyme.”</p>

+

+<p>“Don’t believe it will. Let’s hear what you

+got.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, it isn’t anything much,” answered Jack<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>

+modestly. “It&mdash;it goes to the tune of ‘Hail, Columbia!’

+you know.”</p>

+

+<p>“All right; sing it if you’d rather.”</p>

+

+<p>“I can’t sing; I’ll just say it. It&mdash;it begins like

+this:</p>

+

+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

+<span class="i0">Hail to Erskine, conq’ring band!<br /></span>

+<span class="i0">Firm together we will stand!<br /></span>

+<span class="i0">While the battle rages high<br /></span>

+<span class="i0">We will fight until the last!<br /></span>

+<span class="i0">Underneath the purple banner we<br /></span>

+<span class="i0">Will live or die for victory!<br /></span>

+</div></div>

+

+

+<p class="noi">What&mdash;what do you think of it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, if you want my honest opinion,” replied

+Anthony, “I think it’s too classic, Jack. Seems to

+me what you want in those kind of songs is a lot of

+‘rah, rah, hullabaloo!’ And I don’t believe ‘Hail,

+Columbia!’ is a good tune; seems too jerky. Course,

+I’m not an authority, and maybe I’m mistaken. But

+if I were you I’d try again; get more swing into it.

+I’ve always thought ‘John Brown’s Body’ was the best

+tune to set football songs and such things to. Of

+course, it’s older than the hills and has been used by

+every college from Maine to Mexico, but that doesn’t

+matter if you get some good words. I’d forget about

+the rhymes at first; just find some lines that’ll swing

+along, you know; kind of sing themselves; afterward,

+you can go back and tuck a rhyme in here and there.

+Try it.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“I guess I will. I wasn’t just satisfied with that

+‘Hail, Columbia!’ one, but I didn’t know what ailed

+it. I thought maybe it was because I couldn’t find a

+rhyme for ‘high.’ There was ‘die,’ but I’d used that

+in the last line, you see.”</p>

+

+<p>“I see.” Anthony knocked the ashes from his pipe

+and stretched himself. “Guess I’ll have to go up and

+do some studying,” he said.</p>

+

+<p>“Wait a minute,” Jack pleaded. “There’s another

+thing I wanted to ask about. Is it hard to learn to

+swim?”</p>

+

+<p>“Never learned, Jack, and can’t say from experience.

+But from what I’ve seen I’d say it was blamed

+hard.”</p>

+

+<p>“Never learned! But I thought&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“It was like this with me. When I was about knee

+high to a grasshopper I went in wading and saw my

+daddy out in a dory about fifty feet from shore. So

+I went out to him. They say I didn’t have much

+breath left when they pulled me in; I don’t remember.

+I guess I swam, though; if I didn’t I don’t know how

+I got there. Anyhow, after that I knew how all right.”</p>

+

+<p>“Just imagine,” mused Jack. “I know I couldn’t

+do that, but I do want to learn. Do you think I could?”</p>

+

+<p>“Course you could, but I guess it would take time.

+If you want me to help, I’ll do it.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Will you, really?” exclaimed the other. “Glory!

+that will be fine! I wanted to ask you, but didn’t quite

+like to; I’ve been so much of a bother to you already.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, get out. We’ll go down to the river and find

+a place where it’s not too deep; I think I know of one.

+The water’ll be plaguy cold, though, this early. Want

+to wait a while longer?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I want to begin right off&mdash;before my courage

+fails me; you know, I’m an awful fool about water,

+Anthony.”</p>

+

+<p>“Because you don’t understand it. Water won’t

+hurt you if you know what to do.”</p>

+

+<p>“And you won’t mind if&mdash;if I’m a bit scary at

+first?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I won’t mind. If you say you want me to

+teach you to swim, I’ll do it if I have to throw you

+in the water and hold you there. Do you?”</p>

+

+<p>Jack took a long breath and looked hard at Anthony’s

+face in the moonlight. What he saw evidently

+reassured him, for after a pause he said faintly:</p>

+

+<p>“Y&mdash;yes!”</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br />

+<small>ERSKINE <i>VS.</i> HARVARD</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>The nine took its first long trip when it journeyed

+to Cambridge and played Harvard in a warm drizzle

+of rain that made the ball slippery and hard to hold,

+and set the players to steaming like so many tea-kettles.

+Erskine met her second defeat of the season that afternoon.

+She had an attack of the stage-fright usual to

+the teams of lesser colleges when confronting those of

+the “big four,” and it lasted until the fifth inning,

+when, with the score 9 to 0 in her favor, Harvard’s

+pitcher slumped and allowed the bases to fill for the

+first time during the contest.</p>

+

+<p>Erskine awakened, then, to the fact that her opponents

+were only human beings, after all, and not supernatural

+personages protected by the gods, a fact which

+Hanson had been seeking to convince them of all day

+long, but without success. With bases full, one man

+out, and Bissell at bat, there seemed no reason why<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span>

+the Purple should not place a tally in her empty column.

+This was evidently the view that Bissell himself

+took, for after having two strikes and two balls

+called on him, he found what he wanted and drove it

+hard and straight between first and second. Gilberth

+scored, but Billings was caught out at the plate. Motter

+reached third and Bissell went to second. Hanson

+whispered to Lowe as he selected his bat. Harvard

+shortened field.</p>

+

+<p>“Last man!” called the crimson-legged first-baseman.</p>

+

+<p>“Last man!” echoed the shortstop.</p>

+

+<p>Lowe’s first attempt at a bunt missed fire and the

+umpire called a strike on him. Then came two balls,

+each an enticing and deceptive drop. Lowe was the

+last man on the batting list, but if he wasn’t much of

+a hitter he at least was capable of obeying orders. He

+watched the balls go by in a disinterested manner that

+was beautiful to see. Then came another strike, and

+for an instant his round, freckled face expressed uneasiness.

+The Harvard pitcher decided to end the

+half, and threw straight over base. Lowe shortened

+his bat a trifle and found the ball, and the next moment

+both were going toward first base, the ball very

+slowly, Lowe about as rapidly as he ever moved in

+his life.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>It was the pitcher’s ball, and the pitcher ran for it.

+Motter, at third, started pell-mell for home, only to

+stop as suddenly and dive back to the bag. But the

+pitcher knew better than to throw there, and as soon

+as Motter had turned he sped the ball to first. But

+he had delayed an instant too long, and the umpire

+dropped his hand in the direction of Lowe, who, with

+both feet planted firmly on the bag, was obeying Perkins’s

+repeated command to “Hold it, Ted!” It was

+a close decision, but there was no reason to judge it

+as unfair, and the game went on with the bases again

+filled and Erskine’s heavy batters up.</p>

+

+<p>Joe Perkins stepped to the plate, gripped his bat,

+and looked over the field. Shortstop was covering

+second, and the infield was playing close. Out toward

+the corner of the Carey building the right-fielder was

+stepping back. Erskine’s captain had already sent two

+long flies into his territory, and it wouldn’t do to take

+risks. Joe looked with longing eyes upon a stretch of

+undefended territory behind first base and out of reach

+of right-fielder. If he could bring a low fly down there

+it was safe for another tally. But the pitcher had himself

+in hand again. He was more than usually deliberate

+and the first delivery didn’t lend encouragement

+to Joe’s hopes, for although that youth, staggering

+away from the base, sought to impress the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>

+umpire with the fact that the ball had gone well inside

+of the plate, that astute, black-capped person

+called “Strike!”</p>

+

+<p>The three or four hundred students who, with raincoats

+and umbrellas, were braving the discomforting

+drizzle, applauded. Jack, huddled between Clover and

+Northup on the bench in the lee of the west stand,

+sighed and took his hand from the folds of his sweater

+to beat them anxiously on his knees. Clover wiped

+the rain from his cheek and turned.</p>

+

+<p>“We could use a home run, couldn’t we?”</p>

+

+<p>“You might as well talk about winning the game,”

+growled Northup, who had overheard. “That pitcher

+hasn’t given any one a home run yet this season, and

+you can bet he isn’t going to present us with one.”</p>

+

+<p>“Ball!” droned the umpire.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’ll be satisfied with a hit,” sighed Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“You’re wise,” Northup answered with a grin.

+“There it is again,” he muttered then, as Joe, reaching

+for an outshoot, swung in the air and stepped

+back to tap the plate with his bat and look exasperated.</p>

+

+<p>“Say, doesn’t that make you mad,” asked Clover,

+“to reach for something when you know you shouldn’t,

+and then get fooled? I’ll bet Cap could bite nails

+now!”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>But Joe got over his annoyance the next instant,

+and gave his attention to the ball. When it had passed

+he sighed with relief and silently gave thanks to the

+little red-faced umpire. It was now two strikes and

+two balls. Back of first and third King and Gilberth

+were coaching frantically:</p>

+

+<p>“Two out, Ted! Play off! Play away off!”</p>

+

+<p>“Run on anything, Teddy! Two gone! Now!

+<em>Now!</em> NOW!”</p>

+

+<p>“With two Teds on bases,” said Northup, “it seems

+as though something might happen.”</p>

+

+<p>“Two? Is Lowe’s name Ted?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, Theodore Coveney Lowe, Esquire, is the gentleman’s

+full&mdash; <em>Hey!</em>” Northup was on his feet, and

+a second later the bench was empty. Ten purple-stockinged

+maniacs danced and shrieked over the sopping

+turf, waving sweaters and caps. Motter and Bissell

+and Lowe were racing home almost in a bunch. Joe

+<a href="#image01">Perkins was speeding for second</a>. He had put the ball

+where he wanted it, well over first-baseman’s head, and

+yards and yards in front of right-fielder; had placed

+it there as carefully as though he had walked across

+the diamond and dropped it exactly in the middle of

+the uncovered territory.</p>

+

+<p>First-baseman started back for it, and the pitcher

+ran to cover first. But right-field was racing in, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>

+it was that player who reached the ball first and fielded

+it home just too late to catch Lowe at the plate. Then

+the sphere flew back to second, but Joe, hearkening to

+the coaching, slid across the brown mud and got his

+fingers on a corner of the bag in plenty of time.</p>

+

+<p>There followed a pause in the progress of the game

+while Harvard’s pitcher and her captain tried to convince

+the umpire that Lowe had not touched second

+base in his journey toward home. In that interim the

+little band of Erskine players and substitutes gathered

+together and cheered, with the rain falling into their

+wide-open mouths, until the Harvard stand applauded

+vigorously.</p>

+

+<p>“Four to nine!” yelled Knox. “We can beat them

+yet!”</p>

+

+<p>But King, with desperate purpose written eloquently

+over his face, went to bat and ingloriously

+fouled out to third-baseman, and the half was over.

+Erskine never came near to scoring again, although,

+now that the ice was broken, every man felt capable of

+doing wonderful things, and tried his best to accomplish

+them. The difficulty was with the Harvard team,

+and notably the Harvard pitcher; they objected. But

+if Erskine was not able to add further tallies to her

+score, she, at least, held her opponents down to two

+more runs, Gilberth pitching a remarkable game, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>

+what had looked for a time like an overwhelming

+defeat resolved itself into a creditable showing for the

+Purple.</p>

+

+<p>Jack didn’t get into the game for an instant, nor,

+in fact, did any of the substitutes. But, as he had

+scarcely hoped to do so, he was not greatly disappointed.

+After the game was over the team went back to Boston

+inside and outside a stage-coach, laughing, joking, cheering

+now and then, and, on the whole, very well pleased

+with themselves. Hanson didn’t see fit to dampen their

+enthusiasm by reminding them of the faults which had

+been plentifully in evidence, but reserved his cold

+water for the next day. They had dinner at a hotel.

+In the course of the meal, King called across the

+table to Joe:</p>

+

+<p>“I say, we’ve got old Tidball to thank for this

+feed, haven’t we? If it hadn’t been for that speech

+of his we’d never have had enough money in the treasury

+to buy sandwiches.”</p>

+

+<p>“I guess that’s so,” answered the captain.</p>

+

+<p>“You fellows needn’t think, though,” cautioned

+Patterson, “that you’re going to get this sort of thing

+every trip.”</p>

+

+<p>There was a groan.</p>

+

+<p>“Put him out!” called Gilberth.</p>

+

+<p>“Down with the manager!” cried King.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“I wish,” said Jack to Motter, who sat at his left,

+“that I could take some of this dinner back to Tidball.

+I don’t believe he ever had a real good dinner in all

+his life!”</p>

+

+<p>“Guess you’re right,” Motter laughed. “Anyway,

+he doesn’t look as though he ever had!”</p>

+

+<p>Patterson distributed tickets to one of the theaters,

+and the men were cautioned to be back at the hotel

+promptly at eleven in order to take the midnight train

+for home.</p>

+

+<p>“The management doesn’t pay for these, does it?”

+Jack asked.</p>

+

+<p>“Thunder, no!” answered Motter. “The theater

+gives them to us, and advertises the fact that we’re

+going to be there; calls it ‘Erskine night.’ We’re on

+show, as it were. Some of the Harvard team are going,

+too. You needn’t fear that Patterson’s going to buy

+theater seats for us; you’re lucky if you get him to pay

+your car-fare to the station!”</p>

+

+<p>Jack’s experience of theaters was extremely limited,

+and he enjoyed himself thoroughly all the evening.

+The team occupied two big boxes at the left of the

+stage, while across the house the corresponding boxes

+were filled with members of the Harvard team. There

+was some cheering on the part of the Purple’s supporters,

+but neither Hanson nor Joe encouraged it.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Shut that up,” begged the latter, once. “They’ll

+think we’re a prep. school!”</p>

+

+<p>At half past eleven they got into a train at North

+Station and went promptly to sleep, two in a berth, and

+knew little of events until they were roused out in the

+early morning at Centerport.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br />

+<small>JACK AT SECOND</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Half a mile beyond Warrener’s Grove, the wooded

+bluff at the end of Murdoch Street, the river makes

+in the shore an indentation which is known as the

+Cove. It is not an attractive body of water. At some

+time in the past there was a brick-yard there, and even

+yet the remains of two weather-beaten sheds and a

+couple of high troughs in which the clay was mixed

+may be seen. During a spring freshet the river went

+over its banks and flowed into the pits left by the

+excavations. Later, the water and the frost connected

+the stagnant pond with the river; rushes gained foothold

+in the clay bottom and the old quarry took on the

+appearance of a natural cove. Save in one or two places

+the depth is but slight, and, in consequence, the Cove

+offers warmer bathing in the spring than does the river.

+On the side nearest the railroad there is a stretch of

+gradually shallowing water that answers all the purposes

+of a beach. It was here, then, that Anthony and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span>

+Jack, during the latter part of May, came almost every

+morning, and, exchanging their clothes for gymnasium

+trunks, played the parts of teacher and pupil.</p>

+

+<p>The first time that Jack found the cold water lapping

+his knees he went pale with terror, and would

+have fled ignominiously had not Anthony seized and

+encouraged him. In the end, he allowed the other to

+persuade him to remain where he was and, after gingerly

+splashing himself with water, watch his teacher

+a few yards beyond illustrate the method of swimming.

+Anthony realized that he had a task before him that

+required a deal of diplomacy, and he carefully avoided

+saying or doing anything to increase Jack’s dread of

+the water.</p>

+

+<p>After four lessons Jack had gone the length of immersing

+himself and, held tightly by Anthony, had

+essayed a few wild strokes with arms and legs. Anthony

+strove to teach confidence first of all, and it was

+not until Jack could allow him away from his side

+that Anthony set about the easier part of his task. As

+soon as Jack could struggle for a few strokes through

+the water Anthony taught him to float. And it was

+not until Jack could float in every possible position

+that the swimming lessons were resumed. Then progress

+was rapid. By the middle of June Jack could

+swim out to a rush-covered raft which had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>

+anchored about a hundred feet from shore by enterprising

+duck-hunters. At first Anthony kept beside

+him; later, they had races in which Anthony left Jack

+half-way to the goal; in the end, Jack found courage to

+swim to the raft and back by himself. But, as I have

+said, that was not until June was half over, and before

+that other things had happened.</p>

+

+<p>It was on the fourth of the month, a Wednesday,

+that Jack, for the first time, played a game through as

+second-baseman. Erskine’s opponents were the Dexter

+nine, a hard-hitting aggregation of preparatory schoolboys,

+and to meet them Hanson and Perkins put in

+a team largely composed of substitutes. This team,

+in batting order, was as follows:</p>

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+<p class="noi">Perkins, catcher.<br />

+King, pitcher.<br />

+Northup, right-field.<br />

+Mears, first base.<br />

+Weatherby, second base.<br />

+Smith, third base.<br />

+Clover, shortstop.<br />

+Lowe, left-field.<br />

+Riseman, center-field.</p>

+</div>

+

+<p>The last six, with the exception of Lowe, were substitutes,

+and before the game was over Lowe, too, had

+been replaced, Showell going in for him. Jack’s playing

+that afternoon raised his stock fully a hundred per

+cent. He was in fine fettle&mdash;he had never felt better

+in his life than he had since he began his morning dips

+in the cold waters of the Cove&mdash;and covered the second

+of what Anthony had called the salt-bags in a manner<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>

+that opened the eyes of his companions and caused

+“Wally” Styles much uneasiness. His batting, too,

+was as good as his fielding; he had the honor of making

+the first hit and the first run for Erskine, and was the

+only man on the team that afternoon, with the exception

+of Perkins, who knocked out a home run in the

+sixth, able to hit the Dexter pitcher for more than

+one base. In the fifth inning his three-bagger was

+clean and timely, bringing in two runs and placing

+him where he was able to score a minute after on a

+passed ball.</p>

+

+<p>Dexter made things extremely interesting for a

+while in the seventh inning, getting in two runs and

+filling the bases again directly afterward. It was Jack,

+then, who, in a measure, saved the day. With the

+bags all occupied, Dexter’s catcher went to bat and

+lined out a hot ball just to the right of King. There

+was one out. King got one hand on the ball, but

+failed to stop it. Jack, who had run forward to back

+him up, found the ball in the air and threw quickly

+and true to the plate in time to put out the runner.

+Then Perkins, without more than a second’s pause, returned

+it to Jack, who was again covering second, and

+Jack found the Dexter catcher two feet off base.</p>

+

+<p>The game ended with the score 5 to 2, and of those

+five tallies two were opposite Jack’s name. The other<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>

+three belonged to Perkins and Northup. Jack’s record

+that day included four put-outs and five assists, and held

+no errors. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having

+done a good afternoon’s work that put him in such a

+state of elation that composing verse alone seemed to

+satisfy him. When half past seven arrived and he had

+not appeared in Anthony’s room, Anthony went in

+search of him and discovered him curled up in a ball

+on his bed, laboring with pencil and pad and flushed

+cheeks.</p>

+

+<p>“I’ve got it!” cried Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Got what?” asked Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“The song! Listen!” Jack squirmed about on the

+creaking cot until he had his back against the wall.

+Then he waved his pad triumphantly over his head.

+“It goes to the tune of ‘John Brown’s Body’; you suggested

+that, you know; and I didn’t have any trouble at

+all; and the rhymes are all right, too, I think! Now,

+then!” And Jack, beating time with his pencil, recited

+sonorously his verses:</p>

+

+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

+<span class="i0">“Robinson is wavering, her pride’s about to fall;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Erskine is the winner, for her team’s the best of all;<br /></span>

+<span class="i7">Oh, poor old Robinson!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i15">And down with Robinson!<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>

+</div><div class="stanza">

+<span class="i0">“Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Purple are the banners that the conq’ring heroes wave;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Purple are the violets above the lonely grave<br /></span>

+<span class="i7">Of poor old Robinson!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i15">And down with Robinson!”<br /></span>

+</div></div>

+

+<p>“Fine!” cried Anthony. “That’s the sort of

+thing! Let’s see it.” He took the paper and, turning

+it to the light, began to hum, then sing the words to

+the old marching song, nodding his head in time to

+the music. Anthony had about as much melody in his

+voice as a raven, but Jack, watching and listening

+eagerly from the bed, thought he sang beautifully, and

+was enormously pleased with the production. When

+the final refrain was reached he joined his own voice,

+rocking back and forth in ecstasy, and the concert

+ended in a final triumphant burst of mel&mdash; Well, no,

+not melody; let us say sound.</p>

+

+<p>“Do you like it?” Jack asked, as eager for praise

+of his lines as any poet.</p>

+

+<p>“Great!” Anthony answered. “And I should

+think it would do for a football song, too, wouldn’t

+it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Would it?” cried Jack. “Yes, I believe it

+would! That’s fine, isn’t it? Of course, I don’t want

+you to think I’m stuck up, Anthony, but I really think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>

+it’s better than any that the Purple has published yet.

+What do you say?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I haven’t read many of ’em; should think

+it might be, though. Better send it in right off, so it’ll

+be in time for the next issue, eh?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I’m going to mail it to-night; as soon as I

+make a good copy.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation:

+“I say, Anthony, would you mind copying it off for

+me? I write such an awful fist, you know.”</p>

+

+<p>So they adjourned to Anthony’s room, and Jack

+leaned anxiously over his friend’s shoulder while the

+lines were copied in the most careful of copperplate

+chirography, folded, sealed, and addressed. Then Jack

+bought a one-cent stamp from Anthony and took the

+letter to the post-office, marching back through the

+warm June evening humming “Glory to the Purple,”

+and in imagination leading the cheering section at the

+Robinson game.</p>

+

+<p>After he had gone to sleep he dreamed that he had

+been appointed poet-laureate of Erskine College, and

+was being driven along Main Street in Gilberth’s automobile

+between serried ranks of applauding students

+and townfolk, his brow adorned with a golden fillet

+of laurel-leaves. The automobile was extremely

+spacious, since it held besides himself not only the

+faculty, but Anthony and Joe Perkins and the entire<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>

+baseball team. When he acknowledged the plaudits

+of the multitude he had to hold his laurel wreath

+on with one hand, which annoyed him a great deal.

+In the end the president solved the problem by tying

+it on with a red silk handkerchief. Then, at the

+moment of his greatest triumph, Showell arose from

+somewhere and shouted in a voice that drowned the

+cheers: “He didn’t compose it! The writing was

+Anthony Tidball’s! I saw it!” Jack tried to deny the

+awful slander, but none would listen to him, and he

+awoke breathless and despairing, to find the sunlight

+streaming in the end window and the robins singing

+matins to the early day.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br />

+<small>ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>“I wish I’d never taken the captaincy,” said Joe

+Perkins.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, rot! What’s the good of talking that way?”

+asked Tracy Gilberth. “The nine’s coming along all

+right. What if Artmouth did rub it into us? We had

+an off day; every team’s liable to have them. Look

+at last year.”</p>

+

+<p>“I know,” answered Joe, “we had plenty of them

+then, and see what happened! We lost to Robinson,

+seven to nothing; we scarcely made a hit! If I thought&mdash;if

+I thought we were going to lose this year, I’d&mdash;I’d

+cut and run; honest, Tracy, I would!”</p>

+

+<p>“That’d be a nice thing to do, wouldn’t it?” asked

+the other disgustedly. “Fellows would be proud of

+you, wouldn’t they?”</p>

+

+<p>“It would be better than losing again,” muttered

+Joe.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, get out, Joe! Brace up; you’re off your feed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>

+that’s what’s the matter with you. I heard ‘Baldy’

+telling Hanson yesterday that you were going stale.

+He didn’t mean me to hear it; but I couldn’t very well

+help it. That’s why you’re out here with me in my

+‘bubble’ instead of taking batting practise this morning.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I know all that. A trainer doesn’t send a

+fellow out for rides on Saturday mornings unless he’s

+gone stale or has something else the matter. I suppose

+I am out of sorts, Tracy. And I guess I’d rather stay

+and take a licking like a little man than run away,

+but&mdash;” He stopped and scowled ahead of him at the

+dusty road. Then, “It’s all well enough to talk about

+‘honorable defeat,’ and all that, but it’s mighty hard

+to lose your big game when you’re captain and have

+worked hard and put your whole heart into it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Of course it is; I know that,” answered Tracy

+soothingly. “But you’re not going to lose. You’re

+going to win. So buck up, old chap!”</p>

+

+<p>“And there’s poor old Tom Higgins,” Joe continued

+dispiritedly. “What will he say? I promised

+him I’d win this year. He’s coming up next week,

+if he can, to coach for a few days; I told you, didn’t

+I? What’ll he think when he sees how things are

+going?”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, Tom Higgins be blowed!” cried Tracy. “He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>

+couldn’t win himself, and I’d like to know what business

+he has finding fault with you if you don’t win, either?”</p>

+

+<p>“But I promised him&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, supposing you did? If you can’t win, you

+can’t, and that’s all there is to it. Every fellow on the

+team is going to work as hard as he knows how; every

+fellow is going to stand by you until the last man’s

+out. If we lose, it’ll be simply because Robinson’s got

+a better baseball nine. Cheer up, now, Joe, or I’ll

+run this machine into the ditch there and send you out

+on your silly old nut.”</p>

+

+<p>The two were speeding comfortably along River

+Street in Tracy’s automobile. It was ten o’clock of a

+fresh morning in the first week of June. They had left

+the village a half mile behind and were <em>chugging</em> along

+over a somewhat dusty country road with green hillsides

+to the right and the gleaming river to the left.

+Occasionally the fragrant air was sullied with the smell

+of gasoline, and Joe sniffed disapprovingly and made

+uncomplimentary remarks about motor vehicles in general,

+and Tracy’s in particular. But Tracy, who had

+had his orders from Simson to cheer Joe up and bring

+him home in good spirits, refused to take umbrage, and

+declared that gasoline had a rather pleasant odor.</p>

+

+<p>Joe was certainly suffering from nerves, and had

+been ever since the disastrous game with Artmouth,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>

+two days before, when Erskine had gone down ingloriously

+to the tune of 17 to 1, the 1 being the result

+of good fortune rather than good playing. Perhaps,

+as Tracy put it, the team had merely had an off day;

+at all events its performance had been anything but

+encouraging to the supporters of the Purple, and had

+thrown Joe into the depths of despair. With the final

+game of the season, the contest with Robinson, but

+two weeks distant, he saw only defeat ahead.</p>

+

+<p>They were in sight of the Cove now, and Tracy

+suddenly pointed ahead. “What in thunder’s that,

+Joe?” he asked. Joe roused himself from unprofitable

+thoughts and looked toward the point indicated by his

+friend’s finger.</p>

+

+<p>“Must be a duck,” he said finally.</p>

+

+<p>“Duck be blowed! There aren’t any ducks around

+here at this time of year. Perhaps&mdash; I tell you what

+it is, Joe, it’s a man’s head! See? Some one’s in swimming.”</p>

+

+<p>“Queer place to swim, among all those rushes,” Joe

+responded. “But I guess you’re right. We can tell

+for sure farther on.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes. Look; there he comes out. There’s a sort

+of beach there, remember? He’s walking out, and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“If it doesn’t look like Jack Weatherby, I’ll eat

+my hat!” Joe interrupted.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Weatherby!” echoed Tracy. “What’s he doing

+down here? He’s at practise.”</p>

+

+<p>“No, only the first squad from ten until eleven;

+he’s in the second. That’s who it is, Jack Weatherby.”</p>

+

+<p>“Rot! It doesn’t look the least bit like Weatherby

+to me. I tell you what, we’ll go over and see.”</p>

+

+<p>“Can you get there in this tea-kettle?” asked Joe

+doubtfully.</p>

+

+<p>“Sure; run in where the old bridge used to be;

+it’s just a nice little jounce.”</p>

+

+<p>“All right, only remember that I’m not made of

+india-rubber.”</p>

+

+<p>That is why Jack, when he rejoined Anthony in

+the shade of the old shed near-by, reported uneasily that

+an automobile, with two occupants, was crossing the clay

+field from the road, and that it must be Gilberth’s.

+Anthony finished dressing and then went to investigate.

+As he turned the corner a voice hailed him.</p>

+

+<p>“Hello, Tidball! Was that you, for goodness’

+sake?”</p>

+

+<p>“Hello!” answered Anthony. “Was what me?”</p>

+

+<p>“The chap we saw in the water a minute ago.

+I could have sworn it was Weatherby,” Joe replied.</p>

+

+<p>“I was in there,” Anthony said. “Water’s nice

+and warm down here.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Well, but how did you get dressed so quickly?”

+Joe went on, suspiciously. “Oh, you be blowed! It

+wasn’t you we saw. It was Jack Weatherby, wasn’t

+it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Maybe it was. He’s just dressing himself around

+the corner there.” Anthony saw that further attempt

+at concealing Jack’s identity was idle. During the conversation

+Tracy and Anthony had not noticed each

+other’s presence save by perfunctory nods.</p>

+

+<p>“Going back?” asked Joe.</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, as soon as Jack gets his clothes on.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, get in here and go with us, can’t you?

+There’s lots of room, eh, Tracy?”</p>

+

+<p>Tracy nodded. He had not told Joe of Anthony’s

+call, and his friend was unaware that relations between

+the two were somewhat strained. Joe wondered at

+the lack of hospitality displayed.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, I guess we’d rather walk,” Anthony answered,

+smiling a bit behind his spectacles.</p>

+

+<p>“Nonsense, you’ll get in here, both of you, and

+Tracy will show you what he calls ‘squirting through

+space.’ Hello, Jack!”</p>

+

+<p>Jack came into sight carrying the bathing-suits and

+towels and somewhat red of face. He feared that Joe

+and Gilberth had guessed his secret.</p>

+

+<p>“Hello!” he answered. “Hello, Gilberth!” The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span>

+latter returned his salutation affably enough and Joe

+exclaimed:</p>

+

+<p>“You’re a couple of nice mud-hens, aren’t you?

+Why don’t you pick out a decent place when you want

+to bathe? Come on and get in; we’ll take you back.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack hesitated and looked inquiringly at Anthony.

+The latter’s expression gave no clue to his wishes, and

+so, in the end, Jack assented, and the two crowded into

+the carriage, and Tracy started back across the field

+toward the road. Joe seemed to have forgotten his

+troubles for the while, and the talk, ranging from baseball

+to final examinations, grew lively, even Gilberth

+finding his tongue at last. There was no hurry about

+getting back, he said, and so they crossed westward

+to the turnpike, and there, with a hard, safe road

+underneath, sped homeward at a rate that took Jack’s

+breath away and made Anthony hold tightly to so much

+of the seat as he could find. They turned into Main

+Street at the Observatory just as the clock in the tower

+of College Hall, glimpsed over the tree-tops, indicated

+a quarter of eleven.</p>

+

+<p>“I guess I’d better get out at William Street,” said

+Jack, “or I’ll be late at the field. Will you come

+along, Anthony?”</p>

+

+<p>“Can’t. I’ve got a recitation and I’ve already cut

+once this week.”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Once?” cried Gilberth. “Great Scott, I’ve cut

+four times!”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, you’d better quit it, Tracy,” Joe remonstrated,

+“or they’ll be putting you on probation, and

+then we’ll be beaten, sure as fate!” He turned to Jack.

+“Come to the room with me and then I’ll go out with

+you.”</p>

+

+<p>“You’re not allowed out there this morning,” cried

+Tracy. “Hanson said I was to keep you away until the

+game.”</p>

+

+<p>“You can’t,” Joe replied quietly. “Besides, I’m

+feeling fine now, and it would give me the horrors to

+have to mope around the college while you fellows

+were enjoying yourselves.”</p>

+

+<p>“Enjoying ourselves!” Tracy grumbled. “You’ve

+got a queer notion of enjoyment. If you think I’m

+happy when Hanson is throwing it into me because I

+don’t hold my bat the way they did when he was a

+boy, you’re away off, Joe.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’m going out, anyhow,” Joe answered.

+Suddenly, just as they reached the corner of the

+yard, he turned to Anthony. “I say, Tidball, I

+wish you’d tell me what you two were doing at

+the Cove. I&mdash;I’ve got a reason for wanting to

+know.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack shot an admonitory glance at his friend, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>

+Anthony didn’t see it; perhaps he didn’t want to. He

+looked gravely back at Joe and replied:</p>

+

+<p>“All right, Perkins, I’ll tell you. I was teaching

+Jack how to swim.”</p>

+

+<p>“Anthony!” cried Jack, the color flooding into

+his cheeks. “You promised!”</p>

+

+<p>“No, I didn’t promise, Jack,” he answered calmly.

+“I know you didn’t want me to tell, but I think the

+thing’s been a secret long enough.”</p>

+

+<p>Gilberth was frowning intensely and studying the

+clear road ahead, as though he expected a stone wall

+to rise out of the ground at any instant and bar his

+progress. Joe was looking curiously at Jack’s averted

+face.</p>

+

+<p>“King was right,” he said softly. Then, “Why in

+blazes didn’t you explain, Jack? Why didn’t you tell

+the fellows you couldn’t swim?”</p>

+

+<p>But Jack only shook his head without turning.</p>

+

+<p>“Pride,” said Anthony. “Jack’s full of it. I

+wanted to tell what the trouble was the next day, but

+he wouldn’t listen to it.” He reached around and placed

+one big, ungainly hand on Jack’s shoulder. “He’s an

+idiot, Jack is, but he’s <em>all right</em>!”</p>

+

+<p>Gilberth swung the machine over to the sidewalk,

+and stopped it in front of the north gate.</p>

+

+<p>“You’ll have to get out here,” he said gruffly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>

+“I’ve got to take this thing down to the stable. You

+might as well stay in, though, Tidball; I’m going your

+way. So long, you fellows.”</p>

+

+<p>The automobile whizzed off again down Main Street,

+and disappeared around the corner of College Place.

+Joe and Jack watched it out of sight and then turned

+together and passed through the gate, bending their

+steps toward Sessons Hall at the upper end of the quadrangle.

+For the first part of the way neither spoke.

+Then Joe put his hand through the other’s arm and

+bent forward smilingly until he could see Jack’s flushed

+face.</p>

+

+<p>“You’re an awful fool, Jack,” he said affectionately.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br />

+<small>STOLEN PROPERTY</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Erskine met with defeat that afternoon.</p>

+

+<p>Arrowden did pretty much as she pleased; base-hits

+were as plentiful as errors; the former were to the

+credit of the visitors, the latter were the property of

+the home team. When it was over, and the audience

+had clambered soberly down from the stands to shake

+their heads disappointedly over the showing of the

+Purple as they tramped through the golden evening

+back to the town and the college, Patterson, the manager,

+slipped his pencil back into his pocket and softly

+closed the score-book to shut from sight the obnoxious

+figures, 15&mdash;3. It had been a veritable Waterloo.</p>

+

+<p>In the locker-house little was said. Every one realized

+that the team had taken a slump. Hanson stood

+aside, and “Baldy” Simson became the man of the

+hour. His was the task of getting the men back into

+condition, a task requiring patience and vigilance and

+all the knowledge that many years of experience had

+brought him. This was no time for fault-finding; on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>

+the contrary, Hanson was silent, and “Baldy’s” tone

+was cheerful and soothing.</p>

+

+<p>The news of Erskine’s trouncing brought delight

+to the hearts of the Robinson players and coaches.

+Down there at Collegetown they had been having

+troubles of their own of late. The brown-stockinged

+team was inferior to its last year’s predecessor, and its

+coaches believed that if Erskine came to Collegetown in

+two weeks with a nine equal to that of the previous

+season she would win the dual championship. So it

+was that Erskine’s defeat by Arrowden brought encouragement

+to Robinson; for Robinson had met Arrowden

+ten days before and had shut her out to the tune of

+5 to 0. What pleased Robinson worried Erskine. The

+college at large, with last year’s overthrow in memory,

+scented defeat. Hanson wrote four telegrams on Sunday.

+The tenor of all was the same; that to Thomas

+G. Higgins, captain of the defeated nine of the spring

+previous, read as follows:</p>

+

+<p>“Need you badly. Come at once. Wire when.”</p>

+

+<p>Joe Perkins dropped a pound of weight every day

+until the middle of the week. Examinations were imminent,

+and this fact, with his own condition to think

+of and the worry caused by the general slump, came

+very near to making him quite useless on the diamond

+or in class-room. There was no practise on Monday<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>

+for those who had played against Arrowden. They were

+told to stay away from the field and rest. Joe moped

+in his room until Tracy called for him and again took

+him out in the automobile.</p>

+

+<p>Jack went to second base that afternoon, and during

+the hour and a half’s practise made a good showing.

+His throwing to first and to the plate pleased Hanson

+vastly. On Tuesday the first nine was still largely

+composed of substitutes. Joe and Tracy remained out

+and the battery was Knox and Griffin. “Wally”

+Stiles, the regular second-baseman, was out, but as he

+wore his every-day clothes Jack knew that the second

+bag was his for the afternoon.</p>

+

+<p>Showell played Bissell’s place at center-field during

+the fielding practise, and later, when base-running began,

+was selected to start the procession. He played well

+off of first in obedience to Hanson, and when Mears

+cracked a short grounder toward third base he was able

+to reach second with time to spare. Jack was standing

+just in front of the base-line, arms outstretched toward

+third-baseman, and Showell saw his opportunity to get

+even for the uncomfortable position in which Jack had

+placed him on the occasion of the mass-meeting. Lunging

+out of the base-line he struck Jack in the back with

+his left shoulder with all the force he could summon.

+Jack pitched forward on to his face, rolled over, and lay<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>

+there, feebly kicking the turf with his heels, and Showell

+flung himself on to the bag.</p>

+

+<p>The nearest players ran to Jack’s assistance and

+found him, white of face, gasping painfully for breath.

+“Baldy” reached his side almost with the first, and,

+kneeling above his head, he took his arms and

+“pumped” them until the air was forced back into

+his lungs. After a liberal dousing with water, Jack

+sat up, gasping, and looked about him. His eyes fell

+on Showell, who was sitting on the bag watching proceedings

+disinterestedly, and a wave of color swept

+into his face. “Baldy” lifted him and supported him

+for a moment while he tried his feet. Jack was angry

+clear through and wished that he and Showell were

+alone that he might have it out with him. But he

+said nothing, and only two or three near-by players

+knew that the affair was not an accident.</p>

+

+<p>“Are you all right?” asked “Baldy.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes,” Jack answered. Knox handed him his gray

+cap and he pulled it down over his forehead again and

+went back to the bag. Showell eyed him sharply,

+evidently on the lookout for retaliation.</p>

+

+<p>“You want to get out of the way,” he blustered.</p>

+

+<p>“You’d better keep out of my way,” Jack replied

+grimly.</p>

+

+<p>“Why, what would you do?” growled the other.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>But Jack made no answer, save for a glance of contempt

+that brought an angry flush into the somewhat

+sallow face of the other, and the game went on.</p>

+

+<p>After he had cooled off a little, Jack was heartily

+glad that he had not got into a fuss with Showell, for

+Hanson hated any approach to disagreement during

+practise, and was quick to show his displeasure by putting

+the offenders on to the bench for long terms of

+idleness. But Jack had the satisfaction of twice putting

+Showell out, once between first and second, and

+once between second and third, and of knowing that

+when the runner was replaced by another he had not

+made any too good a showing. In the locker-house

+Showell kept his eye on Jack, still not quite satisfied

+that the latter did not mean to resort to his fists to

+even the score, and saw Jack go out accompanied by

+Clover and Northup with feelings of relief.</p>

+

+<p>The next day, Wednesday, Erskine played State

+University with a team still largely made up of substitutes.

+Joe Perkins was back behind the plate and

+Gilberth went into left-field, King occupying the box.

+But Motter’s place at first was taken by Mears, and

+Jack again held down second. Knox was back at

+shortstop, but the outfield, aside from Gilberth, was

+made up of substitutes. The most encouraging feature

+of the contest was the improved condition and hard,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span>

+sharp playing of Joe. The rest, in spite of the fact

+that he had fretted continually under the enforced idleness,

+had done him lots of good. Erskine won, 5 to 0,

+and the students strolled back to the college talking

+more encouragingly of the nine’s chances.</p>

+

+<p>On Friday “Wally” Stiles got back into the practise

+and Jack, greatly to his disgust, retired again to

+the bench, or, to be more exact, to the net where

+Bissell was coaching a squad in bunting. Saturday’s

+game was with Erstham, and before it was half over

+Jack was morally certain that unless Stiles improved

+greatly during the next few days the second-baseman

+in the Robinson game would be one Jack Weatherby.</p>

+

+<p>Stiles, unlike most of the other players, had not recovered

+from the slump, and his playing that afternoon

+was deplorable. Yet, since Erskine took the lead in

+the second inning and held it throughout the contest,

+he was not replaced, Hanson hoping that he would find

+his pace before the last man was out. But he didn’t,

+even for a moment. The team, as a whole, showed up

+strongly, and Erstham went home with a 10 to 2 score

+against her.</p>

+

+<p>Jack was sorry for Stiles, really and truly sorry,

+he told himself; yet he would have been less than

+human had he not experienced a feeling of delight in

+the thought that, after all, it was not improbable that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>

+he would get into the Robinson game. There was no

+certainty about it, of course, he reflected, for Stiles

+might, in fact probably would, take a brace on Monday,

+and, during the five days that would then intervene before

+the last contest, win back his title to the position.

+But there was ground for hope, and since Jack had

+hitherto never for a moment really expected to have a

+chance in the big game, that slender hope brought happiness.

+He went back to Elm Street and the sympathetic

+and patient Anthony, whistling merrily or humming

+“Down with Robinson,” much out of tune.</p>

+

+<p>His poetical production had duly appeared, among

+many others, in the Purple, and for several days he

+had been highly delighted. Each contribution had been

+signed with the author’s name, and Jack had experienced

+not a little good-natured teasing by his friends. But

+there had been praise also, for his verses were better

+than the rest, and even Professor White had congratulated

+him.</p>

+

+<p>Jack was discovering that he had a good many

+friends. Not many were intimate, to be sure, but all

+were apparently genuine. Joe Perkins had promptly

+spread the story of Jack’s swimming lessons, and at last

+the true reason for the latter’s failure to distinguish

+himself in the rôle of life-saver had become generally

+known. If the college had been quick to condemn, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>

+was equally prompt to acknowledge its mistake, and

+while few fellows made mention of the matter to Jack,

+yet many of them went out of their way to show him

+courtesy and kindness.</p>

+

+<p>Tracy Gilberth had never mentioned the subject

+to any one since the truth had come out, not even to

+Joe. But Jack was aware that the varsity pitcher very

+frequently sought his companionship nowadays and

+seemed intent upon making up for the injustice he had

+done him. Jack willingly met him half-way, his olden

+longings for revenge forgotten in his present content.

+Nor, as has been said, was Tracy the only one who

+sought to ease his conscience by paying little attentions

+to the fellow he had formerly despised. From

+an object of scorn and derision Jack had changed into

+something approaching a hero.</p>

+

+<p>On the Sunday succeeding the Erstham game Jack

+and Anthony were seated in the latter’s room shortly

+after noon when Mrs. Dorlon knocked on the door and

+announced a caller, presently ushering in with many

+excited sniffles Professor White. The professor carried

+a newspaper in one hand and his immaculate silk

+hat in the other. He greeted the two and took the

+chair that Anthony promptly pushed forward. But remarks

+on the beauty and seasonableness of the weather

+seemed to interest him but little, and as soon as politeness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>

+would permit he plunged into the subject which

+had brought him.</p>

+

+<p>“Do you own a watch, Tidball?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>Anthony stared, shot a glance at Jack, and after a

+moment of hesitation answered: “Yes, that is&mdash;well,

+in a way.”</p>

+

+<p>“You have it now?” the professor went on. Jack

+scented mystery, and listened attentively, wondering the

+while why Anthony looked so uncomfortable. Surely

+it was no disgrace to borrow money on one’s own property!

+Anthony hesitated again, then answered “No.”</p>

+

+<p>“Was it stolen?” continued the professor.</p>

+

+<p>“Stolen? Well, now&mdash; But, look here, professor,

+suppose you tell me why you want to know?”</p>

+

+<p>“Perhaps I had better,” responded the other.

+“You’re probably thinking me pretty cheeky and inquisitive.

+But I was reading the paper a few minutes

+ago, and saw that they’d arrested a tramp over in Gerrydale,

+and had found a lot of pawn-tickets on him. When

+they visited the pawn-shop and recovered the property

+they found among other jewelry a watch with the inscription&mdash;let

+me see.” He found the place in the

+paper he held and read: “‘Gold watch and chain; former

+inscribed Anthony Z. Tidball, from Henry Wright

+Porter&mdash;July, 1902.’ That’s your name, and I thought

+perhaps the watch was yours. Is it?”</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br />

+<small>OFF TO COLLEGETOWN</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>Ere Professor White had finished Anthony was on

+his feet with hands stretching forth for the paper. The

+look of delight which he had flashed across at Jack and

+which still illumined his face caused that youth much

+wonderment.</p>

+

+<p>“Guess it’s mine, all right,” Anthony cried. The

+professor yielded the paper, and Anthony read the

+article through in silence. When he handed it back

+his eyes were dancing behind the lenses of his spectacles.

+“It’s mine, sir; no doubt about it! The paper says all

+I need do is prove my ownership, and I can do that

+easily enough, for I have the number of the watch!”</p>

+

+<p>“But, Anthony,” Jack objected, “you said that

+you’d&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll go over to Gerrydale in the morning,” Anthony

+interrupted hurriedly, shooting a warning glance

+at his friend. “I’m much obliged to you, sir; if you

+hadn’t seen that and told me I don’t believe I’d ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>

+have got it back; I don’t read the papers very often myself.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’m glad I saw it, Tidball. When was it

+stolen?”</p>

+

+<p>“About a month ago,” answered Anthony somewhat

+vaguely. “I left it in my room, and when I came

+back for it it was gone. Of course I never knew who’d

+taken it. But&mdash;I’m plaguy glad to find it again.”</p>

+

+<p>“Of course, especially since it was presented to

+you. What is the story, Tidball?”</p>

+

+<p>So Anthony told the professor about the rescue at

+Jonesboro, making it sound very casual and far from

+thrilling. But neither of his hearers was deceived, and

+insistent questioning and cross-examining finally gave

+the incident a different aspect.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, yes,” Anthony acknowledged, “there was

+quite a sea running&mdash; Danger? Nothing to speak of

+if you knew how to manage a dory&mdash; The kid? Oh, he

+came round all right after a while; pretty near thing,

+though; another second or two would have finished

+him, likely. Father of the boy wanted me to take some

+money, but I wouldn’t; a fellow doesn’t take money

+for saving a life. So after he got home he sent me

+the watch. That’s all. Good deal of fuss about it.”</p>

+

+<p>After the professor had taken his departure, insisting,

+for some reason, on shaking hands with the tall,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>

+ungainly junior, Jack turned upon Anthony and began

+his questions.</p>

+

+<p>“I didn’t come right out, Jack, and say I’d pawned

+the watch,” Anthony explained, “but I gave you to understand

+that. The fact is I didn’t know what had become

+of it, and there wasn’t any use saying it had been

+stolen as long as I wasn’t certain about it. I left it in

+the room one morning when I went to recitation. I

+missed it in class, and came back, and couldn’t find it.

+I guess the tramp found the door open and walked

+in.”</p>

+

+<p>“When was it?” asked Jack.</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, well, about a month ago.”</p>

+

+<p>Jack looked thoughtful, and Anthony eyed him uneasily.

+At last Jack brought one fist into the palm of

+his other hand and jumped up.</p>

+

+<p>“Anthony! Was it the morning I went off?”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony hesitated; but the boy’s face showed that

+he had no suspicion that Anthony had for a while connected

+him with the missing article.</p>

+

+<p>“Why, yes, it was,” replied Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“I thought so!” Jack cried. “I remember now

+that I saw a trampish-looking fellow on the street when

+I came from breakfast. I passed him. I didn’t pay

+much attention, though, because I was&mdash;feeling sort of

+knocked out. But once I heard a noise in the entry<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>

+here while I was packing. I’ll bet it was the tramp.

+And I remember seeing your watch on the table in your

+room, Anthony, when I took that note in there, and&mdash;why,

+come to think of it, I put the note under the

+watch!”</p>

+

+<p>“He followed you in, I guess,” said Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“That’s just what he did. And when I went out

+he was in your room, I’ll bet. And&mdash;and he took my

+money, too, don’t you suppose? I must have left it

+out somewhere!”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s about what happened,” Anthony replied,

+grinning jovially. “I wish you could get your money

+back; but I guess that’s too much to hope for.”</p>

+

+<p>“I suppose so. Oh, I don’t care now. But I am

+glad you’re going to recover your watch, Anthony.

+Wouldn’t it have been funny if I’d gone back into your

+room again and found him there?”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, but you might have got laid out!”</p>

+

+<p>“Laid out nothing! I’ll bet I could have whipped

+that chap. And I would have saved your watch,

+and&mdash;&mdash;”</p>

+

+<p>“Missed your train!”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, so I would have. I wonder if it would have

+made any difference? I fancy it’s best the way it all

+happened.” He considered the subject for a moment

+in silence. Anthony beamed across at him happily. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span>

+was glad he was to get his watch back, but gladder still

+that the last doubt as to Jack’s honesty was dispelled;

+and, oh, so very glad that Jack knew nothing of his

+idiotic suspicions!</p>

+

+<p>“There’s something I ought to tell you, Anthony,”

+said Jack suddenly. He looked rather ashamed and

+apologetic and very serious. “I’ve thought of owning

+up several times, but&mdash;I never did,” he continued.</p>

+

+<p>“Owning up? Well&mdash;what is it, Jack? Murder?”</p>

+

+<p>“No, it’s&mdash;it’s robbery!” Anthony stared.</p>

+

+<p>“That morning I went away,” he continued, “I&mdash;I

+took something of yours with me. It wasn’t much,

+but I shouldn’t have taken it.”</p>

+

+<p>“Why, what was it?” Anthony asked wonderingly.

+“I haven’t missed anything.”</p>

+

+<p>“No; but then, I put it back afterward. It was

+a pencil.”</p>

+

+<p>“A pencil!”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, the green one with the rubber tip; the one

+you used to have on your desk. I&mdash;I wanted something

+to remember you by,” he added shamefacedly. “And

+so I took that. I thought you wouldn’t care. I was

+going to write and tell you when I got home.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I’ll be jiggered!” exclaimed Anthony. “I

+missed that pencil for two or three days, and then one

+morning it turned up again on the desk. But, hang it,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>

+Jack, you were welcome to the old thing, of course!

+I’m glad you took it&mdash;glad you cared to remember such

+a silly old codger as I! Why, that was nothing; not

+worth mentioning. Besides, you gave me that charm,

+and fair exchange is no robbery!”</p>

+

+<p>“I’m glad you don’t mind now that you know,” said

+Jack simply. And, after a moment: “When you get

+your watch back again you can wear that bean, can’t

+you?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>“Well, I should say so!” replied Anthony with

+much decision. “And what’s more, Jack, I’ll wear it

+as long as the chain holds together!”</p>

+

+<p>There was no difficulty the next day in recovering

+the watch. Anthony gave a detailed description of it,

+and explained the circumstances of the robbery, and his

+property was handed over to him at once. But it is

+needless to say that Jack’s roll of money was not among

+the objects recovered from the pawn-shop, nor was it

+found on the prisoner. Anthony was told that it might

+become necessary for him to attend the trial and give

+evidence. But he begged off very eloquently, and in

+the end the police decided that perhaps there would be

+evidence enough to convict the thief without calling

+upon Anthony. And, as it turned out, the decision was

+correct.</p>

+

+<p>Jack never learned that Anthony had for a while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>

+suspected him of the theft of the watch; and it was

+better so. For while Anthony’s suspicions were certainly

+justified by circumstances, yet Jack could never

+have seen the matter in the same light, and would have

+been greatly hurt had he ever learned of it.</p>

+

+<p>In the second week of June two things began

+simultaneously, final examinations and morning baseball

+practise. Naturally, the first seriously interfered

+with the second, and it was only by the most complicated

+arrangement on the part of Hanson that the players

+were able to report at the nets during the forenoons

+for batting practise. Three assistant coaches had put

+in appearance in response to his telegrams, among them

+the captain of the unsuccessful nine of the year before.

+Higgins was a good player and turned out to be as good

+a coach. His heart was set on witnessing a victory over

+the Brown and he worked enthusiastically and tirelessly.

+Afternoon practise began every day at three-thirty, and

+never let up as long as there was a ray of light left.

+The slump was a thing of the past, and every man responded

+well to the demands of the coaches. Stiles

+gradually recovered his form, and in the last game before

+the final contest&mdash;played on Thursday with Harwich

+Academy&mdash;he superseded Jack at second, and Jack, his

+hopes dead, sat on the bench and tried to be philosophic.</p>

+

+<p>That Thursday game attracted the biggest audience<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>

+of any thus far played; not because the Academy team

+was strong enough to promise a hard-fought battle, but

+for the reason that it was given out that the Erskine

+nine was to play just as it would in the game at Collegetown

+the next day but one. The batting list was as

+follows:</p>

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+<p class="noi">Perkins, catcher.<br />

+Gilberth, pitcher.<br />

+Motter, first base.<br />

+Bissell, center-field.<br />

+Stiles, second base.<br />

+Knox, shortstop.<br />

+Billings, third base.<br />

+King, left-field.<br />

+Northup, right-field.</p>

+</div>

+

+<p>Allowing for the fact that every man had been

+worked hard all the week up to the very beginning of

+the game, and that examinations were in progress, the

+exhibition of ball-playing made by them was decidedly

+encouraging. The cheering was a notable part of the

+contest. Led by the senior class president and five

+assistants, the stands did heroic work, and cheers and

+songs thundered forth unceasingly.</p>

+

+<p>Jack, sitting forlornly on the bench, wedged in between

+other substitutes quite as forlorn, found balm for

+his disappointed hopes in the fact that the song that

+went the best of any, and the one which was most often

+sung, was his. The way in which the throng emphasized

+the “Poor old Robinson!” was good to hear.</p>

+

+<p>When the game was at an end&mdash;it was almost dark

+by then&mdash;the spectators marched back down William<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>

+Street to the college, cheering and singing all the way.

+Jack, trotting over to the locker-house in the wake of

+the other players, heard from down the street the refrain

+arising splendidly to the summer sky:</p>

+

+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

+<span class="i0">“Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Purple are the banners that the conq’ring heroes wave;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Purple are the violets above the lonely grave<br /></span>

+<span class="i7">Of poor old Robinson!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i11">Glory, glory to the Purple!<br /></span>

+<span class="i15">And down with Robinson!”<br /></span>

+</div></div>

+

+<p>The enthusiasm didn’t cease until late at night.

+After dinner the fellows thronged the yard in front of

+Walton and the cheers and songs were gone through

+with again and again.</p>

+

+<p>There was little work the following day for the

+players. Morning practise was omitted, and in the

+afternoon a little running and throwing to bases constituted

+the program. In the evening there was a reception

+to the nine and substitutes in Brown Hall, and

+again enthusiasm was rampant. The Glee Club sang,

+the college band played, the fellows cheered, the dean

+and Professor Nast and the coaches and Captain Joseph

+Perkins made speeches, and there was a grand hullabaloo

+until half past nine.</p>

+

+<p>Jack bade good-by to Anthony that night, for the

+nine and substitutes were to go to Collegetown in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>

+morning on a train that left at half past six. The

+supporters were to follow on a later train, but Anthony

+was not to be among them.</p>

+

+<p>“I wish I were going,” he said, “but I just can’t

+afford it, Jack. But I’ll be down on the street in the

+afternoon, and while you’re knocking base runs and

+such things you’ll know that I’m flinging my cap for you

+here at home.”</p>

+

+<p>“It’s little chance I’ve got,” said Jack sadly. “But

+I may get on for a while, Anthony. Anyhow, I wish

+you were going along.”</p>

+

+<p>“So do I. Good night, Jack, and good luck to you

+and the nine and old Erskine. You’ll play, of course;

+they can’t win without you, Jack! Good night!”</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a><br />

+<small>AT THE END OF THE SIXTH</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>If you are so fortunate as to be occupying a seat

+in the stand running parallel with the line to first base,

+and if you are about midway between that base and

+the home plate, you may congratulate yourself upon

+being in the best place of all from which to watch the

+game. Under ordinary conditions you have a clear

+view of every player, the batsman, unless he is left-handed,

+is facing you, and the run to first base is made

+directly in front of you. Make yourself as comfortable

+as the narrow board seat and uncompromising back will

+permit, be grateful for the clear sky and warm sunlight,

+which, if it beats a little too ardently upon your cheek,

+makes up for it by limbering the joints and muscles of

+the players and urging them to their best efforts, and

+watch the game, prepared to applaud good work, joyfully

+if performed by your side, ungrudgingly if by

+the other, and to accept victory with gratitude and

+defeat with equanimity.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>From where you sit you see first the Erskine players

+on their bench at the foot of the sloping stand, their

+purple caps thrust back on their heads or held in their

+hands. You can’t see their faces, but their broad

+shoulders suggest the best of physical condition. Beyond

+them to the right a white deal table is occupied

+by four men who are busy writing the history of the

+contest.</p>

+

+<p>At the feet of the players the field begins, a level

+expanse of closely cropped turf, which stretches away

+for a quarter of a mile like a great green carpet. Beyond

+the field is a thicket of trees, elms, chestnuts, and

+maples. Beyond that, again, the warmly red roof of

+the gymnasium peers forth, the forerunner of many

+other roofs and turrets and towers set sparsely at first

+amid the foliage, but quickly grouping together about

+the campus. There lies Robinson College. To the

+left, where the white spire pierces the tree-tops and

+glistens against the blue sky, the village of Collegetown

+commences and straggles away to a tiny river,

+no wave or ripple of which is from here visible.</p>

+

+<p>But you have wandered far afield. About you the

+tiers are gay with purple flags and ribbons, but farther

+along to your left the purple gives place grudgingly to

+brown, and from there on in a long sweep of color the

+brown holds sway even beyond third base. Four hundred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span>

+among four thousand is as a drop in a bucket.

+Yet the four hundred is massed closely together, and

+every unit of it flaunts a purple banner, and is tireless

+in cheering and in song. Across the diamond the Robinson

+band plays lustily between the innings; you can

+see the leader swinging his little black wand, the cornetist’s

+cheeks rising and falling like a pair of red bellows,

+the player of the base drum thumping away with

+his padded stick; but you hear nothing&mdash;nothing save

+an occasional muffled boom from the big drum; how can

+you when all about you cheers are thundering forth for

+“<em>Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!</em>” Your throat is dry

+and parched, the perspiration is trickling down your

+cheek, and your eyes are dazzled with the sunlight; but

+you’re as happy as a clam at high tide, for the sixth

+inning has begun, neither side has yet scored, Erskine

+is at bat, and your heart’s in your mouth!</p>

+

+<p>Five innings without a tally doesn’t sound exciting,

+and yet, if we except the second, every one of those five

+innings had kept the audience on the edges of the seats.

+In every inning save the second Robinson had placed

+men on bases, and at the end of each the supporters

+of the Purple had heaved sighs of heartfelt relief, finding

+sufficient satisfaction in the fact that the Brown had

+not scored. Only once had Erskine dared hope for a

+tally. That was in the third. The tally didn’t come. It<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>

+had been a pitcher’s battle, and the palm had gone to

+Vose, the tall, thin fellow whose spindle-shanks were encased

+in brown stockings. Not a single hit had been

+made off him, while Gilberth had been struck freely, yet

+had frequently managed to puzzle the batsman when a

+single would have brought in a run, or possibly two.

+When summed up it came to this: Erskine had been outplayed,

+and that Robinson did not now lead by several

+tallies was due to her inability to make her hits at

+the right time. The players of each college, in batting

+order, were as follows:</p>

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+<p><span class="smcap">Erskine</span><br />

+Perkins, catcher, captain.<br />

+Motter, first base.<br />

+Gilberth, pitcher.<br />

+Bissell, center-field.<br />

+Knox, shortstop.<br />

+King, left-field.<br />

+Northup, right-field.<br />

+Stiles, second base.<br />

+Billings, third base.</p>

+

+<p><span class="smcap">Robinson</span><br />

+Cox, first base.<br />

+Condit, catcher.<br />

+Hopkins, third base.<br />

+Morgan, shortstop.<br />

+Devlin, left-field.<br />

+Wood, center-field, captain.<br />

+Richman, second base.<br />

+Regan, right-field.<br />

+Vose, pitcher.</p>

+</div>

+

+<p>At the beginning of the sixth inning it was anybody’s

+game. Billings, the tag-ender, went to bat. On

+the Erskine stand the cheering died away and the

+purple flags ceased waving and fluttering in the still

+afternoon air. Across the diamond the band laid aside

+its instruments, and the shadow of the western stand

+crept along the turf until its edge touched the line<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>

+of white that marked the coacher’s box. On the

+players’ benches the men leaned forward anxiously

+and watched Billings thrust his cap back and grip

+his bat determinedly.</p>

+

+<p>But it was soon evident to the watchers that Erskine

+was not to score. Billings hit a short grounder to first-baseman

+who scooped it up and tagged the bag before

+the batsman was half-way toward it. Joe Perkins had

+two strikes called on him ere he found the ball, and sent

+a high foul into the hands of left-fielder. He tossed

+aside the bat with a look of disgust and paused on his

+way back to the bench to whisper into the ear of Motter,

+the next victim to the deceptive curves of the merciless

+Vose. Joe crowded into a space between Billings and

+Tracy Gilberth.</p>

+

+<p>“<em>I</em> can’t find him,” he sighed.</p>

+

+<p>“No, hang him,” growled Tracy, “he’s too much

+for any of us. But I’ll bet he’ll let down before the

+game’s over; and then&mdash;well, then we want to be ready,

+Joe!”</p>

+

+<p>“Do you think he will? It doesn’t look like it.”</p>

+

+<p>Tracy nodded knowingly.</p>

+

+<p>“His arm’s getting stiff. I know the signs. So’s

+mine, for that matter, and I’ve pitched perfectly rotten

+ball, Joe!”</p>

+

+<p>“Nonsense, you’ve done good work. But let me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>

+know as soon as you want to quit, Tracy. How about

+the next inning?”</p>

+

+<p>“That’s for you to say,” answered Tracy. “But I

+guess I can hold out through the seventh, if you don’t

+mind.”</p>

+

+<p>“All right; I’ll put King in for the eighth. Oh,

+hang! Come on, fellows! Out on the run!”</p>

+

+<p>Motter had struck out, and was trotting to his position

+at first, drawing on his glove and looking wofully

+sad. The Robinson band struck up again, and the

+Erskine contingent, not to be outdone, started the

+cheers once more, while the purple-sleeved players

+spread out over the diamond.</p>

+

+<p>Joe thumped his big mitten and Tracy picked up the

+ball. The umpire, a rotund little man in a navy-blue

+blouse shirt, ran nimbly to his position.</p>

+

+<p>“First man!” cried Joe confidently.</p>

+

+<p>The batsman was the Robinson captain and center-fielder,

+Wood. Tracy was not greatly afraid of Wood,

+and so saved his arm by pitching a few slow balls, none

+of which the Robinson captain was able to touch. When

+he struck out the Erskine cheers rang across the field.

+Richman came next. He was the first of the Brown’s

+tail-enders on the batting list, and he followed the

+way of his captain, while the purple flags fluttered

+joyously.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>Perhaps Tracy was overconfident, for when Regan,

+the enemy’s right-fielder, stepped to the plate, he shook

+his head at Joe’s signal for an outshoot, and sent a

+straight, slow ball over the corner of the base. And

+Regan got it on his bat and sent it arching in easy flight

+toward second, and raced for the bag.</p>

+

+<p>“Mine!” called Stiles.</p>

+

+<p>“Take it!” shouted little Knox, backing him up.</p>

+

+<p>But Stiles didn’t take it. Instead he let it slip

+through his fingers, and so when Knox had recovered

+and fielded it to Motter the runner was safe.</p>

+

+<p>“Twenty minutes!” yelled the Robinson coach derisively.

+Then he began a desperate effort to rattle

+Gilberth. “On your toes!” he shrieked. “Go on, go

+on! He daren’t throw it! Way off now! I’ll look

+out for you! Way off! Now! <em>Now!</em> NOW!”</p>

+

+<p>Tracy was disgusted because he had allowed Regan

+to hit him, and the shrieks of the coacher annoyed him.

+Earlier in the game he would not have minded twenty

+coachers, but now his arm was aching and growing stiff

+and tired and his temper and nerves were not so well

+in command. The next batsman was Vose, the Robinson

+pitcher. Vose was the poorest performer with the

+stick of any of his team, and in the natural order of

+things should have been struck out without difficulty.

+But this time he found the second ball that came to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>

+him and hit it safely into right-field, and Regan took

+second. Then came Cox, the head of the batting list,

+and swung his ash wickedly while he waited.</p>

+

+<p>There were coaches behind both first and third now,

+and their shrieks hurtled back and forth across the

+diamond. Tracy looked bothered, and Joe strove to

+hide his anxiety under a show of confidence.</p>

+

+<p>“Next man, fellows!” he called cheerily. Motter

+took his cue from him and added his voice. “He’s a

+goner, Tracy! Strike him out, old man!”</p>

+

+<p>And for a while it seemed that Tracy would do it.

+But when the little fat umpire had called two strikes

+and two balls on him Cox managed to find something

+that suited him, and cracked it out past shortstop. Regan

+reached third, and, with two out, the bases were full.

+Joe and Tracy had a whispered consultation, while the

+Robinson stands hooted derisively, and then took their

+places again. Condit, the Brown’s catcher, and one

+of the best batters, tapped the plate and looked as though

+he meant to bring in a run. The coachers kept up their

+medley of taunts and warnings, but Tracy had found

+his head again and paid not the slightest attention.</p>

+

+<p>The first ball went wide, and Joe’s brilliant stop

+brought forth a burst of applause. Tracy hurried up,

+apologetic, keeping an eye on the bases. “Sorry, Joe,”

+he said.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“All right, old man,” answered the captain cheerfully.

+“Now let’s put him out.”</p>

+

+<p>Two strikes followed.</p>

+

+<p>“Good eye, Tracy!” “Fine work, old man!”

+“That’s the pitching!” encouraged the infielders.

+Then the batsman elicited laughter and applause from

+his supporters by crossing the plate and suddenly becoming

+a left-handed batter. Tracy looked surprised,

+and his next two efforts were pronounced balls. Joe

+leaned far to the left and squeezed his hands between

+his knees. Tracy nodded. But the batsman was an

+old hand, and was not deceived by the inshoot that followed.

+“Three balls!” cried the umpire. Everything

+depended on the next pitch. Tracy straightened his

+arms, swung his foot, and hurled a straight ball waist

+high for the plate. Condit met it with his bat, but

+failed to hit it squarely, and it went high into the air,

+and the men on bases raced toward home.</p>

+

+<p>When the sphere came down it was undeniably second-baseman’s

+ball, and Stiles stood ready for it. Regan

+reached home, and the next man, Vose, swung

+around third. Suddenly a shout of joy burst from the

+Robinson stands and the coachers were screaming like

+mad. Stiles had muffed!</p>

+

+<p>Vose, with a coacher racing along beside him, sped

+for home. But Knox had seized the ball almost before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>

+it had touched the ground, and now he threw it straight

+and sure toward the plate. Vose hurled himself forward

+when fully ten feet distant, and slid for his goal,

+but the ball was there before him, and Joe’s right hand

+swept down and tagged him. The side was out. The

+Erskine players hurried in to the bench, and Gilberth

+picked out his bat.</p>

+

+<p>It was the beginning of the seventh inning, but the

+score was no longer a blank; Robinson led 1 to 0. The

+band played wildly. Jack Weatherby, on the bench,

+felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find Hanson

+speaking.</p>

+

+<p>“You cover second, Weatherby,” said the coach.</p>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a><br />

+<small>A TRIPLE PLAY</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>The seventh inning began with Tracy Gilberth at

+bat. He watched Vose with interest while that lanky

+youth settled himself to his task, hopeful that at last

+Robinson’s star player was weary enough to allow the

+opponents to hit him. But Tracy was doomed to disappointment.

+Vose’s arm was tired, beyond a doubt,

+but he only took more time at his work, his curves remaining

+as puzzling as ever. Tracy struck out ingloriously,

+just as he had done pretty much all through

+the game. Vose was still on his mettle.</p>

+

+<p>Bissell’s fate was the same, while as for Knox, although

+he managed, by good judgment, to get three

+balls to his credit, yet in the end he too tossed aside

+his bat in deep disgust; and the nines again changed

+sides.</p>

+

+<p>Robinson’s first man up was the redoubtable Hopkins;

+he had gained the sobriquet of “Hard-hitting

+Hopkins” last season. So far to-day, while he had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span>

+managed to find Tracy rather frequently, his hits had

+netted little. But Tracy judged discretion the better

+part of valor, and deliberately gave Hopkins his base,

+while the purple-decked stands hooted loudly. Having

+given the other his base, Tracy next tried to take it

+away from him, but Hopkins was quick on his feet and

+time and again Motter got the ball too late to tag him

+out. Tracy gave it up finally, and turned his attention

+to the next batsman, Morgan.</p>

+

+<p>Morgan popped a foul to the foot of the stand, and

+Joe, hurling aside his mask, got it after a brilliant sprint

+of twenty yards. Devlin struck out and Hopkins stole

+second. The Brown’s captain came to the plate with

+determination to do great deeds written large on his

+face. After getting two strikes on him, Tracy couldn’t

+put the ball over the base, and Wood walked to first.</p>

+

+<p>Then, with two on bases, Robinson saw visions of

+another tally. But Tracy settled down again and struck

+out the third man, Richman, and again the Erskine contingent

+sighed with relief and cheered gleefully.</p>

+

+<p>Jack, who during the inning had had nothing to do,

+trotted in and examined the score-book over Patterson’s

+shoulder. He found that he would be the third man

+at bat, and wondered a bit nervously whether he would

+have any better success with the mighty Vose’s curves

+than had his predecessor, who was now sitting weary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>

+and dispirited on the bench. King, who during the

+first half of the previous inning had been limbering up

+his arm, was put in for Tracy, and Lowe took his place

+in left-field. Tracy sprawled himself down on the grass

+beside Jack with a sigh.</p>

+

+<p>“I wish to thunder I’d been able to hit that dub

+Vose just one!” he growled.</p>

+

+<p>“What’s he like?” Jack asked.</p>

+

+<p>“Like a Chinese puzzle,” Tracy replied grimly.

+“When you try him, Weatherby, look out for his drops;

+they’re the worst; they come straight to about four feet

+from the plate, then they go down so fast that you can’t

+see ’em. His inshoots are simple compared with those

+drops. Watch for fast balls, and when you see one

+coming, slug it! Make him think you can’t bat,

+Weatherby; it’s your first time up, and maybe you can

+fool him.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’ll try,” Jack answered dubiously. “<em>Good work,

+King!</em>”</p>

+

+<p>King was speeding to first, having made a clean hit

+to the outfield just over shortstop’s head. The Erskine

+stand burst into wild and confused cheering. Northup

+selected his bat and went to the plate, and Joe Perkins,

+after whispering directions into his ear, ran to the white

+line back of first base and began coaching King at the

+top of his lungs. Vose settled the ball in his hands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>

+tapped the earth with his brass-toed shoe, and glanced

+sharply toward the runner.</p>

+

+<p>“Play off, Greg!” shouted Joe. “He won’t

+throw! He’s too tired! Now, now, now! This time!

+<em>Look out!</em>”</p>

+

+<p>King scuttled around back of the bag and reached it

+before the baseman swung at him with the ball.</p>

+

+<p>“Hold it, he’s got the ball!” cautioned Joe. “All

+right, now; on your toes. Down with his arm! He

+won’t throw again!”</p>

+

+<p>Vose looked as though he intended to, then turned

+quickly and pitched. The ball went wide, and had it

+not struck Northup on the hip would have given King

+two bases, since the Robinson catcher would never have

+stopped it. As it was, King, who was almost to second,

+trotted back and tagged base. The umpire waved his

+hand to Northup, and the latter went limping to first.

+King jogged to second, and the Erskine cheers drowned

+every sound for several minutes. Two on bases and

+none out! It looked like a tally.</p>

+

+<p>Joe yielded his place to Motter, sent Bissell to coach

+King from third, and caught Jack on his way to the

+plate. He had to put his mouth to Jack’s ear in order

+to make himself heard above the shouting.</p>

+

+<p>“We’ve got to advance King, Jack,” he said.

+“Wait for a good one, and make a slow bunt toward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>

+third; you know the way, old man. Swipe at the first

+ball as though you were going to knock it over the

+fence! Then wait for what you want. Keep steady,

+Jack!” He clapped him on the shoulder encouragingly

+and sped back to first.</p>

+

+<p>Jack’s hope of rapping out a two-bagger was gone.

+Joe’s directions were not to be disregarded, and it was a

+case of substituting team-play for ambition. He settled

+his cap, wiped his perspiring hands on his trousers, and

+gripped his bat. When he faced Vose he found that

+person eying him intently, appraising his ability as a

+batsman. Jack smiled easily&mdash;despite that he felt

+terribly nervous, and that the muscles at the back of his

+legs were twitching&mdash;and waved his bat forward and

+back a couple of times as though to say: “Right there,

+please, and I’ll show you how it’s done!”</p>

+

+<p>Vose looked about the bases very deliberately, and

+then offered Jack an outshoot. Jack was glad that he

+had been told to hit at the first delivery, for the mere

+act of swinging his stick fiercely through the air eased

+his nerves. He struck at least a foot too late, and the

+Robinsonians laughed and jeered. Vose thought he

+knew his man then, and tried the same ball again, and

+the umpire shook his head and waved his left hand.

+Jack waited; two balls; strike two; then he saw what

+he wanted, turned a trifle to the left, brought his bat<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>

+around quickly and easily, and, as he ran to first, knew

+that he had succeeded.</p>

+

+<p>The sphere, a new and very white one it was, went

+rolling toward third base just inside the line. King

+was making for that base, too, and the baseman indulged

+in just that instant of hesitation that is fatal.

+The ball was his to field, yet he feared that if he left his

+bag none would cover it. When he finally got the ball,

+reaching it a second before Vose, King was safe on

+third, Northup was sliding for second, and Jack had

+crossed first. He tossed the sphere to the pitcher, and

+the latter went back to the box scowling wrathfully.

+The Erskine stand was a bank of purple. The senior

+class president, bareheaded, wilted of collar and crimson

+of face, was standing on a seat leading the singing:</p>

+

+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">

+<span class="i0">“Robinson is wavering, her pride’s about to fall;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;<br /></span>

+<span class="i1">Erskine is the winner, for her team’s the best of all;<br /></span>

+<span class="i7"><em>Oh, poor old Robinson!</em>”<br /></span>

+</div></div>

+

+<p>Billings went to bat. Motter was whispering instructions

+to Jack on first. Vose, calm of face, looked

+about the bases, while his support called encouragingly

+to him. Then, before his arm was well back, Jack had

+started like an express-train toward second. At the

+same instant King made as though to dash home, and

+Northup played off half-way to third. The delivery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>

+was a poor one, but Condit stopped it, threw off his

+mask, and, bewildered, threw to second.</p>

+

+<p>It was a costly mistake, for King was sliding across

+the plate before second-baseman had received the ball,

+and the Erskine fellows were hugging each other uproariously.

+Jack had flown back toward first, but half-way

+there he paused. Northup was caught on his way

+to third, and now was dancing back and forth with the

+ball crossing and recrossing above his head, and shortstop

+and third-baseman closing in on him every second.

+Then he stumbled and shortstop was on him

+like a flash, and he crawled to his feet to dust the

+loam from his shirt and trot off the field. Meanwhile

+Jack had made a good slide for second, and had beaten

+the ball.</p>

+

+<p>The score was tied, there was but one out, and a

+man on second! Is it any wonder that Erskine’s supporters

+went mad with delight and danced and shouted

+and threw flags and caps into the air?</p>

+

+<p>When things had settled down once more Billings

+stepped back into the box. From behind him came

+imperative demands for a home run. Billings tried his

+best to accommodate his friends the next instant, for

+there was a loud <em>crack</em>, and the ball went arching high

+and far toward right-field. But when it descended the

+Robinson fielder was under it, and Billings stopped his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>

+journey around the bases and came back. The left-fielder

+sped the ball home quickly, but not soon enough

+to keep Jack from reaching third.</p>

+

+<p>The Robinson band had started bravely to work

+once more, but across the diamond the Erskine leaders

+had brought order out of chaos, and four hundred

+purple-flaunting enthusiasts were again cheering slowly

+and in unison:</p>

+

+<p>“<em>Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah, rah, rah!

+Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Erskine! Erskine!

+Erskine!</em>”</p>

+

+<p>And the cheers took on new force when it was seen

+that the Purple’s captain was the next batsman. Joe

+had given a message to King, and now King was imparting

+it to Jack down at third base, and Jack was

+nodding back to Joe. Robinson’s catcher, Condit, was

+badly rattled, and Joe knew it and was planning accordingly.

+The stands settled down into comparative

+quietude, and Vose, still calm and confident-looking,

+pitching the game of his life, faced his new opponent.

+The outfield came in a bit.</p>

+

+<p>Vose’s first delivery was easily a ball, and his second

+was undeniably a strike. Then followed an outshoot

+and a drop, neither of which did Joe take to.

+Back went the ball to Vose, and, with King shouting

+weirdly at third, he shot his arms overhead and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>

+sped it again toward the plate. Then an odd thing

+happened.</p>

+

+<p>The ball was a drop. Joe struck at it hard, dropped

+his bat, and flew toward base. The catcher, who had

+stopped the ball on the ground, stood up, glared bewilderedly,

+and then, concluding that it had been the

+third strike, threw to first-baseman, Vose shouting

+warnings which he did not hear. Jack, the moment

+Joe had struck, had started warily toward home, and

+although first-baseman caught the ball and hurled it

+back to the plate in the next instant, he was lying above

+the base in a cloud of dust ere the catcher tagged him.

+Again pandemonium broke lose on the Erskine stand.

+The Purple was one run ahead.</p>

+

+<p>Joe trotted back to the plate and picked up his bat,

+and Jack went to the bench, dusty, panting, and happy,

+to be hugged and slapped by the delighted occupants.

+There followed a pause in the game’s progress during

+which Robinson’s captain sought to find a rule that

+would put Jack back on third. But Joe’s strategy was

+within the law, and presently the Robinson catcher

+picked up his mask miserably and the captain, disgruntled,

+went slowly back to his position in center-field.</p>

+

+<p>The incident appeared to have discouraged both the

+battery and the support. Vose took up his work listlessly,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>

+and in a moment Joe was walking to first on

+four balls. A minute later he had stolen second. Motter

+bunted toward first, and beat the ball to base. Joe

+took third. Vose was now plainly rattled, and a wild

+pitch became a passed ball, and Motter went to second,

+Joe, however, fearing to attempt to score. Then Lowe

+took up the stick.</p>

+

+<p>Lowe bided his time, and had two strikes called on

+him before he swung his bat. When he did he found

+the ball fairly, and drove a terrific grounder into outfield

+between first and second bases. Joe jogged home

+from third, and Motter, his legs making a purple streak,

+sped like the wind to third. Lowe sat down on first

+and tied his shoe. Bissell went to bat, and was deceived

+by a drop that absolutely hit the plate. And right there

+the half ended, for Lowe tried to steal second, and was

+put out four feet from the bag.</p>

+

+<p>There was joy in the Erskine camp. The score

+stood now 3 to 1. If her players could hold Robinson

+from further scoring the day was won. And, with King

+in the pitcher’s box, it seemed that it might be done.

+Regan went to bat for Robinson, and stood there idly

+swinging his stick while the umpire sang: “Strike

+one!... Strike two!... Striker’s out!”

+And then, to fill Erskine’s cup overflowing with delight,

+King struck out Vose and Cox in just the same way;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>

+and the cheering broke forth anew, loudly, triumphantly.

+And the ninth and last inning began with

+little Knox at the bat.</p>

+

+<p>It would be pleasant to relate how Knox knocked a

+home run and how Erskine continued the performance

+inaugurated in the preceding inning. Unfortunately,

+that is impossible. Knox was struck out, King was

+thrown out at first, Northup made a base hit, but was

+left there a minute later when Jack flied out miserably

+to Vose. The stands were emptying themselves of their

+throngs and supporters of the rival colleges crowded

+along the base-lines cheering doggedly or ecstatically,

+as the case might be. King picked up the ball, Joe

+donned his mask, Motter thumped his mit, and Jack, at

+second, danced about from one foot to the other out of

+sheer joy. Near at hand Knox was grinning like a

+schoolboy, and calling shrilly to King to “Eat ’em up,

+Greg!”</p>

+

+<p>“First man, fellows!” cried Joe cheerfully.</p>

+

+<p>Condit stepped to the plate. He was pale, and

+looked an easy victim. But luck turned its back upon

+the Purple, for at his second delivery King struck the

+Robinson catcher on the elbow, and the latter took his

+base. Robinson’s friends took courage, and their cheers

+thundered over the field. Then came Hopkins, the

+“hard-hitter,” and swung his bat knowingly. King realized<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>

+that here was foeman worthy of steel, and was

+accordingly careful.</p>

+

+<p>But Hopkins was desperate. He found the second

+ball, and it went flying toward center-field. Bissell

+failed to reach it in time to get his hands on it before

+it struck the ground, and Hopkins gained second, Condit

+going to third. Morgan followed with a slow

+grounder toward King. King fielded it to first too late,

+after making sure that Condit was not trying to score,

+and the bases were full. A home run would win for

+Robinson! A two-base hit would tie the score!</p>

+

+<p>The brown banners flaunted and gyrated in the air,

+throwing strange dancing silhouettes upon the turf. The

+shadow of the western stand had lengthened across the

+infield. Back of the stand the sky was aglow with

+orange, while toward the village a golden haze filled

+the air.</p>

+

+<p>The throng at large was silent, intense, expectant.

+Yet here and there sections of the throng still shouted,

+and back of the dense wall of spectators on the Robinson

+side of the field the band was playing. A cheer,

+undismayed yet faint, ran along the ranks of the Erskine

+supporters. It is hard to shout when your heart is throbbing

+away up in your throat. Devlin went to bat, his

+determined chin thrust forth and his sharp eyes sparkling

+from between half-closed lids as he watched the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span>

+pitcher. Joe Perkins half knelt behind him and held a

+big mitten invitingly open on his left knee.</p>

+

+<p>“Steady, fellows!” he called cheerfully. “Play

+for the plate!”</p>

+

+<p>His voice rang true, with never a quiver in it. Yet

+now and then his heart raced and thumped for an instant

+in a way that turned him half faint. Despite the tiny

+beads of perspiration that trickled down his face, he was

+livid, and the fingers in the hot leathern mit trembled

+and twitched. If he could keep those brown-legged

+players from crossing the plate the game was won for

+Erskine and his labors and hopes were crowned with

+success. If! He groaned as he thought of all that

+might happen ere the third man was put out. For the

+first time during the contest he was nervous; for the first

+time almost in memory he was frightened through and

+through. Then his gaze swept over the field and he

+saw Motter at first carelessly flipping a pebble across the

+grass, Weatherby alert and impatient at second, Northup

+shading his eyes with his hand as he stood motionless

+in right-field, Knox calling blithely to King as he

+slapped his hands together, and beyond, Bissell and

+Lowe, their figures throwing long, slanting shadows

+across the turf. Then King’s left hand wandered carelessly

+across his forehead, his arms shot up, and Joe,

+reaching out, drew in the first delivery.</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>“Strike,” droned the umpire.</p>

+

+<p>Joe’s fright passed with the settling of the sphere in

+his hands. The blood crept back into his cheeks and

+courage into his heart. Returning the ball, he eased

+his mask, thumped his hands together, and called confidently

+to King.</p>

+

+<p>“That’s the eye, Greg; once more!”</p>

+

+<p>Erskine applauded grandly. Then followed two

+balls. The coaches were shouting like maniacs and the

+runners were set, like sprinters on the mark, ready to

+spring into flight on the instant. Joe signaled a drop.

+It came, and Devlin tried and missed.</p>

+

+<p>“Strike two,” droned the little umpire.</p>

+

+<p>Again the supporters of the Purple shouted and

+waved their colors against the evening sky. King swept

+a glance about the bases, unmindful of the coachers’

+taunts, settled himself once more, and pitched. Devlin’s

+body moved quickly forward, ball and bat met

+squarely, Devlin raced toward first, and the runners on

+the bases sprang away.</p>

+

+<p>Out by second, Jack, on his toes, alert and ready for

+anything, heard the <em>crack</em> of bat against ball, and instinctively

+ran toward base. Hopkins, head down,

+started like a flash toward third. Then Jack’s eyes

+found the ball. It was speeding toward him, straight,

+swift and well over his head. He stopped in his tracks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>

+a foot or two behind the base-line, threw his hands high

+into the air, put his weight on to his toes, and then <a href="#image07">sprang

+straight upward until there was a good two feet between

+him and the turf</a>. To the excited watchers it seemed

+that for an instant he hung there suspended, a lithe,

+slim figure against the golden sunset haze. Then the

+ball stung his hands, the throng broke into confused

+shouting, and&mdash;</p>

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">

+<a name="image07" id="image07">

+  <img src="images/image07.jpg" width="400" height="600"

+       alt="Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf."

+       title="Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf." />

+</a><br />

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_237">Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf.</a></div>

+</div>

+

+<p>“Back! Back!” shrieked the coaches.</p>

+

+<p>The runners turned in their tracks and scuttled for

+the bases they had left like rabbits for their burrows.

+Jack, the ball securely clutched, reached second in two

+strides, and then, with a lightning survey of the situation,

+threw straight and sure to Billings at third. Condit,

+arrested ten feet from the plate by the coaches’

+warnings, had doubled back, and now was racing desperately

+for third base and safety. Six feet from the

+bag he launched himself forward, arms outstretched.

+A trailing cloud of red dust arose into the still air, and

+the ball thumped into the baseman’s hands. The little

+fat umpire swung his hand circling toward the bases.</p>

+

+<p>“Game!” he said.</p>

+

+<p>The long ranks broke like waves, and the players

+were engulfed, then caught and tossed to the surface.

+Jack, rocking perilously about on the shoulders of comrades,

+looked dazedly yet happily down over a sea of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>

+waving purple banners and upraised, excited faces,

+while against his ears beat the thunderous refrain of

+“<em>Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!</em>”</p>

+

+

+<table class="boxscore" summary="BoxScores1">

+  <tr>

+    <th class="tdc">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ERSKINE.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">R.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">H.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">P.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">A.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">E.</th>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <th class="tdc">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;ROBINSON.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">R.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">H.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">P.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">A.</th>

+    <th class="tdrb">E.</th>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Perkins, c.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">8</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Cox, 1b.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">3</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">9</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Motter, 1b</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">8</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Condit, c.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">13</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Gilberth, p.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Hopkins, 3b.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">3</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Bissell, cf.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Morgan, ss.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">3</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Knox, ss.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Devlin, lf.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">King, lf., p.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Wood, cf.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Lowe, lf.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Richman, 2b.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Northup, rf.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Regan, rf.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Stiles, 2b.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">Vose, p.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Weatherby, 2b.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">2</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Billings, 3b.</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;&nbsp;Totals</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">8</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">27</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">12</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">3</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&mdash;</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;&nbsp;Totals</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">3</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">8</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">27</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">7</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">6</td>

+    <td class="tdrl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdl">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="tdrb">&nbsp;</td>

+  </tr>

+</table>

+

+<table summary="BoxScores2">

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Erskine&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">3</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">&mdash;3</td>

+  </tr>

+  <tr>

+    <td class="tdl">Robinson&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">1</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">0</td>

+    <td class="pr tdrb">&mdash;1</td>

+  </tr>

+</table>

+

+<div class="blockquot">

+

+<p>Two-Base Hits&mdash;Wood, Hopkins. Triple Play&mdash;Weatherby to

+Billings. Bases on Balls&mdash;Off Gilberth, 3; Off Vose, 2; Off King, 1.

+Hit by Pitched Ball&mdash;Northup (2), Condit. Struck Out&mdash;By Gilberth,

+8; By King, 3; By Vose, 13. Sacrifice Hits&mdash;Knox, Richman,

+Regan. Umpire&mdash;Cantrell. Time of Game&mdash;2.40. Attendance&mdash;4,000.</p></div>

+</div>

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p>

+

+

+

+

+<div class="chapter">

+<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a><br />

+<small>WEATHERBY’S INNING</small></h2>

+

+

+<p>“Good morning, Mr. Tidball!”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony, making his way briskly down Main Street,

+raised his head at the greeting, and glanced across the

+street. Professor White, immaculate in his Sunday

+attire of black frock coat, gray trousers, and silk hat,

+was picking his way gingerly between the little puddles

+left by the night’s shower. Anthony returned the salutation,

+and waited for the other to join him. Then they

+went on together down the quiet street in the shade of

+the elms. The village seemed deserted. It was an

+hour after noon, and staid, respectable Centerport was

+dining on all the indigestible luxuries that comprise

+the New England Sunday dinner. As for the college&mdash;well,

+the college was at the depot awaiting the arrival

+of the 2.12 train.</p>

+

+<p>“Going down to welcome the victors?” asked the

+professor gaily.</p>

+

+<p>“Yes,” answered Anthony. “And I guess you are

+too. Sort of late, aren’t we?”</p>

+

+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p>

+

+<p>He produced his big gold watch, removed it tenderly

+from its pouch, and saw that it announced eight

+minutes after the hour. The professor nodded, and

+they mended their pace.</p>

+

+<p>“You didn’t go down, did you?” asked the latter.</p>

+

+<p>“No, I wanted to, but couldn’t afford it. But we

+got the news at Butler’s by innings. We had quite a

+celebration all to ourselves before the rest of you got

+home.”</p>

+

+<p>“Didn’t keep you from taking a hand in the bonfire

+last night, though, did it?” laughed the professor.</p>

+

+<p>“No, I guess every one went out to the field. It

+must have been an interesting game, professor.”</p>

+

+<p>“It was. But it was rather conducive to heart-disease

+toward the end. We came pretty near to being

+outplayed, and a good deal nearer to being beaten.

+When Robinson had the bases full in the ninth and their

+left-fielder rapped out that liner&mdash;well, I shut my eyes

+and held my breath! I didn’t see Weatherby make his

+catch; when I looked he was throwing to third. Well,

+it was great, simply great!”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, but I didn’t quite understand what it was

+Jack did. If he hadn’t caught the ball the other chaps

+would have made three runs, isn’t that it?”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, two runs anyway, three probably; you see,

+the bases were full, and that hit was good for a two-bagger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span>

+I think, if Weatherby hadn’t got his hands on

+it. It was a hot one, too, and ’way over his head. As

+it was, he put out the batsman by catching the ball,

+tagged second before the runner from that base could

+get back, and then threw to third and put out the man

+there. You see, a runner is required to hold his base

+until a fly has either been caught or has touched the

+ground. Well, Robinson thought Devlin’s hit was a

+safe one; it surely looked like it; and every one ran.

+Then when Weatherby caught it they had to get back to

+their bases; but they couldn’t. Condit was almost home.

+It was very pretty. Triple plays like that have been

+made before, but they don’t happen very often. And

+then the difficulty of Weatherby’s catch added to the

+brilliancy of the thing. Well, he’ll be a hero now as

+long as yesterday’s game is remembered.”</p>

+

+<p>“I’m mighty glad,” said Anthony quietly. “Jack’s

+had sort of a hard time of it, take it all ’round. I’m

+glad things look better for next year.”</p>

+

+<p>“Oh, he can have pretty near anything he wants

+after this,” laughed the professor. “I’m quite as well

+pleased as you are, Tidball. There’s one thing, however&mdash;”

+He hesitated. “We can’t get around the fact

+that Weatherby’s been largely to blame for his own

+unhappiness, Tidball. We’re both friends of his, and

+we can afford to recognize the truth. It was his duty,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>

+to himself and more especially to others, to put himself

+right. He should have explained why he apparently

+made no effort to go to the rescue of that boy in the

+river. It looked bad; I saw the whole thing, and to

+all appearances it was just a case of cowardice. I was

+mistaken; and I said what was in my mind, which was

+a still greater mistake. But don’t you see, Tidball, he

+should have spoken up and said that he couldn’t swim.

+None would have blamed him then. He had no right

+to allow others to misjudge him. Then, too, his attitude

+wasn’t of the kind to attract friends to him.

+From what I can make out he appears to have taken

+umbrage because the fellows didn’t seek him and make

+his acquaintance when he first came, and subsequently

+repelled every advance by his apparent indifference

+and self-sufficiency. It was&mdash;unfortunate.”</p>

+

+<p>“Yes, I guess you’re right. But I can’t altogether

+blame Jack, for I know just how sensitive he is. Sometime

+he’ll get over it, but it’s something you can’t change

+at once. Wasn’t that the whistle?”</p>

+

+<p>“I didn’t hear anything, but if you like we’ll sprint

+a bit.”</p>

+

+<p>And they did, reaching the station just as the train

+rolled in, and the victorious baseball team and attendants

+descended into the dense throng of students to an

+accompaniment of wild cheers. For a moment the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>

+players were swallowed from sight. Then they came

+into view again on the shoulders of privileged friends,

+and were borne to the three hacks that were to take

+them in triumph up to the college. Jack caught a brief

+glimpse of Anthony’s tall form as he was borne, swaying

+and bobbing, across the platform, and waved a hand to

+him. Then, with the cheering crowd jostling and shoving

+about the carriages, the journey was begun.</p>

+

+<p>Jack found himself in the second of the hacks,

+sandwiched between Billings and Knox. Facing them,

+on the front seat, sat King, Motter, and Showell. As

+they turned into the Square, the horses prancing excitedly

+because of the crowd and the noise, Jack caught

+a glimpse of the carriage ahead and of Joe Perkins

+leaning out to shake hands with the nearest of his admirers.

+There was no attempt at conversation between

+Jack and his companions. Even had the tumult allowed

+it they were all too sleepy and tired to talk much.</p>

+

+<p>Training had ended for the season with the ending

+of the game. They had remained in Collegetown as

+Robinson’s guests, and had been dined, and, later, had

+attended a performance at the little Opera House in

+company with their hosts. After that they had returned

+to the hotel, assembled in Joe’s room, and

+chosen a new captain. The honor had fallen to King.

+There had been no dissenting voice. King, although<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>

+only a junior next year, was already a veteran player,

+having captained his school team before coming to

+Erskine, and having played two years with the varsity.

+Jack was pleased. He liked King better than any of

+the fellows who would be eligible for the next year’s

+nine. And King, he believed, liked him.</p>

+

+<p>Jack forgot the cheers and the singing and the enthusiastic

+throngs that filled the sidewalks and almost

+surrounded the carriage, and closing his eyes, leaned

+back and gave himself over to thought. In three days

+the term would come to an end, and he would go home

+for the summer, a summer which promised to be one of

+the pleasantest of his life. Anthony was to visit him in

+July for a week, and later, if all went well, he was to

+spend a few days in Jonesboro, and finish his natational

+education with surf bathing. Then, in September,

+Erskine once more. But what a difference there would

+be! He would return to college to find fellows not

+merely willing but eager to claim his acquaintance, to

+call him friend. The stigma of cowardice would no

+longer be placed upon him; rather he would be looked

+upon as a hero, as the one who had saved the college

+from defeat.</p>

+

+<p>Already he had tasted the intoxicating draft of

+popularity. Ever since the crowd had poured on to the

+field the day before he had never for an instant been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>

+allowed to forget that the college looked upon him as

+one whom it was a pleasure to honor. The time when

+he had read “Coward!” in each averted face seemed

+very dim and far. And yet the vindication of which he

+had dreamed then, a vindication of his physical courage,

+had not come. Well, perhaps next year&mdash;&mdash;</p>

+

+<p>He came to earth with a start. King had leaped to

+his feet, and was staring excitedly down the street. The

+tumult had changed from joyous cheers to cries of

+alarm. The crowd about the carriage was frantically

+struggling toward the sidewalks and above its voice

+sounded the pounding of hoofs on the hard road. Jack

+turned and looked. Behind them, sweeping down the

+narrow street between the fleeing throngs, swayed the

+third hack, the horses, frightened beyond control, plunging

+forward with outstretched heads. On the box the

+driver tugged vainly at the lines and shouted warnings

+to the crowd. A moment or two and a collision was inevitable.</p>

+

+<p>Their own driver had heard and seen; the hack

+sprang forward, and King tumbled into Jack’s arms.

+At the same instant Showell struggled to his feet with

+pale, drawn face, and, with an inarticulate groan of

+terror, threw open the carriage door and leaped blindly

+into the road. Over and over he rolled in the path of

+the oncoming team. Jack pushed King from him, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>

+in a moment was balancing himself on the sill, clinging

+to the woodwork beside him. Some one strove to get by

+him, and he pushed him back.</p>

+

+<p>“Stay where you are,” he shouted.</p>

+

+<p>Then he jumped.</p>

+

+<p>As he did so he saw dimly the crowd crushing back

+against the shops, panic-stricken, struggling for safety.

+He landed and kept his feet, and even before the momentum

+had passed had swung himself about, and was

+racing back down the street toward the motionless form

+of Showell and the plunging horses. As he ran there

+was no fear in his heart; rather an exultant consciousness

+of power; here was the opportunity to wipe out

+forever the stigma of cowardice.</p>

+

+<p>“It’s my inning at last!” he thought gladly.</p>

+

+<p>If it has taken long in the telling, yet in the doing it

+was the matter of a moment. He reached the inert

+body of Showell, and, with desperate strength, sent it

+rolling toward the sidewalk. Then the horses were

+upon him. <a href="#image08">With a gasp for breath he leaped forward</a>,

+arms outstretched, as it seemed into the path of death.</p>

+

+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 404px;">

+<a name="image08" id="image08">

+  <img src="images/image08.jpg" width="404" height="600"

+       alt="With a gasp for breath he leaped forward."

+       title="With a gasp for breath he leaped forward." />

+</a><br />

+<div class="caption"><a href="#Page_246">With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.</a></div>

+</div>

+

+<p>But brief as had been his moment of preparation, he

+had not misjudged. His clutching hands caught at

+rein and mane, and he was swept off his feet and borne

+onward. Then his left hand found a place beside the

+right, and with all his weight back of the bit and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>

+horse’s hoofs grazing his legs at every plunge, he clung

+there desperately with closed eyes. For an instant

+there was no diminishment of the pace; then the horse’s

+head came down, and Jack’s feet again touched earth.

+Plunge after plunge followed; a confusion of cries and

+cheers filled his ears; the team veered to the left, and

+his feet felt the sidewalk beneath them. There was a

+crash as the heavy pole splintered against one of the

+granite posts of the college fence, and Jack, striking

+violently against something that drove the last breath

+from his body, loosed his hold and fell backward into

+darkness.</p>

+

+<hr class="tb" />

+

+<p>When he opened his eyes again, a minute later, he

+was lying, weak, shaken, and gasping, just inside the

+fence, his swimming head supported on the knee of

+Professor White. About him excited yet kindly faces

+looked down, while on the sidewalk the trembling horses

+were being unharnessed from the carriage. He strove

+to sit up, but the professor restrained him.</p>

+

+<p>“Hurt, Weatherby?” he asked.</p>

+

+<p>Jack stretched himself carefully, shook his head,

+and struggled into a sitting posture.</p>

+

+<p>“No,” he gasped, “all right; breath&mdash;knocked out&mdash;that’s

+all.”</p>

+

+<p>“Well, sit still a minute.” Jack obeyed, and closed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span>

+his eyes. About him were low voices and whispers, and

+his name being repeated over and over. Then he became

+aware of a sudden commotion, and opened his

+eyes to see Anthony pushing his way through the ring.</p>

+

+<p>“I found him,” he gasped. “He’s coming right

+over. How is he?” He dropped to his knees at Jack’s

+side, sending an anxious glance at the professor.</p>

+

+<p>“Nothing broken; just out of breath.”</p>

+

+<p>Anthony seized Jack’s hand and held it tightly, his

+broad mouth working yet unable to voice his words.

+Jack grinned up into his face.</p>

+

+<p>“You’re a sight, Anthony,” he said. “You’ve

+gone and lost your specs. Help me up.” The professor

+nodded. Anthony seized him about the shoulders

+and lifted him to his feet. Jack tried his legs tentatively,

+and found them apparently sound. Then he

+turned to Anthony.</p>

+

+<p>“Showell?” he asked anxiously.</p>

+

+<p>“He’s all right, Jack; just stunned a bit from the

+fall.”</p>

+

+<p>“Take him over to his room, Tidball,” said Professor

+White. “I’ll send the doctor when he comes.”</p>

+

+<p>The throng made way for them. As they passed

+through, Anthony supporting Jack as carefully as

+though the latter were a basket of eggs, the crowd

+found its voice. Jack glanced into some of the faces<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>

+and read therein a new respect and liking. He dropped

+his eyes, the color flooding into his cheeks, and hurried

+on. The throng grew momentarily. In front it broke

+and parted, and Joe Perkins and Tracy Gilberth confronted

+them.</p>

+

+<p>“All right, Jack?” panted Joe.</p>

+

+<p>“Of course I am,” Jack muttered sheepishly.</p>

+

+<p>“All right, then. Up you go, old man!” Before

+he could resist he found himself on the shoulders of

+Anthony and Joe, with Tracy supporting him behind.</p>

+

+<p>“Let me down, you idiots!” he pleaded.</p>

+

+<p>But they paid no heed. The individual voicing of

+approval suddenly merged into a confused cheering that

+grew and grew in volume until Jack’s remonstrances

+were drowned beneath it. He clung to Anthony’s head,

+and tried to look as though he didn’t mind, and only

+succeeded in looking like a thief on the way to the

+stocks. Of late, he silently marveled, he seemed to be

+continually swaying about on fellows’ shoulders!</p>

+

+<p>Near the museum the chaos of sound took form and

+substance, and Jack, still somewhat confused and dizzy,

+found that he was bobbing along in time to the loud,

+deep, and measured refrain of “<em>Weatherby! Weatherby!

+Weatherby!</em>”</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noic">THE END</p>

+</div>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<p class="noic adtitle bbdbl btdbl">NEW BOOKS FOR THE YOUNG.</p>

+

+

+<p class="noi adtitle">With the Flag in the Channel; or, The Adventures

+of Capt. Gustavus Conyngham.</p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">James Barnes</span>, Author of “Midshipman Farragut,” “Commodore

+Perry,” etc. Illustrated by Charlton T. Chapman. (Young Heroes

+of our Navy series.) 12mo. Cloth, 80 cents net; postage, 8 cents

+additional.</p>

+

+<p>The wonderful story of adventure at sea which Mr. Barnes tells in his new

+volume will be new to almost all readers, but it is founded upon fact. Captain

+Conyngham was the predecessor of Paul Jones. When Dr. Franklin and Silas

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+1, 1777, was given to Captain Conyngham. He crossed to the British Channel, captured

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+filled England with dismay.</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Behind the Line.</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="adauthor">A Story of School and Football.</span></p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">Ralph Henry Barbour</span>, Author of “The Half-Back,”

+“Captain of the Crew,” etc. Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 12mo.

+Cloth, $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.</p>

+

+<p>This is an exciting football story by a writer who has placed himself at the head

+of writers of stories of college sports. “Behind the Line” deals with life at the

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+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Miss Lochinvar.</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="adauthor">A Story for Girls.</span></p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">Marion Ames Taggart</span>. Illustrated by William L. Jacobs.

+12mo. Cloth, $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.</p>

+

+<p>Miss Taggart knows all the workings of the girlish heart. The experiences of

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+suddenly called upon to face life in the home of her rich city cousins, and her unconscious

+influence in overcoming the petty jealousies and meannesses that make

+themselves manifest in an artificial society, form the theme that Miss Taggart has

+used for an intensely sympathetic and interesting story.</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Jacks of all Trades.</span>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span class="adauthor">A Story for Girls and Boys.</span></p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">Katharine N. Birdsall</span>. Illustrated in two colors by Walter

+Russell, with many text cuts. 12mo. Cloth, $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents

+additional.</p>

+

+<p>Here is a story that shows conclusively that “the child is father of the man.”

+Miss Birdsall has written a book that should be read by every boy and girl who has

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+nobility of character as the key-note for a most wholesome and inspiriting story, the

+plot of which is of absorbing interest.</p>

+

+<p class="noic adauthor bb bt">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<p class="noic adtitle bbdbl btdbl">APPLETONS’ HOME-READING BOOKS.</p>

+

+

+<p class="noic adtitle">UNCLE SAM SERIES.</p>

+

+<p class="noic">Popular Information for the Young Concerning our

+Government.</p>

+

+<p class="noic adauthor">A MOST APPROPRIATE HOLIDAY OR VACATION

+GIFT.</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Our Country’s Flag and the Flags of Foreign

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+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">Edward S. Holden</span>. Illustrated with 10 colored Plates.

+Cloth, 80 cents.</p>

+

+<p>This book is a history of national flags, standards, banners, emblems, and

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+it has always been the flag of a <em>country</em>, not the personal standard of a king

+or of an emperor.</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Our Navy in Time of War.</span></p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">Franklin Matthews</span>. Cloth, 75 cents.</p>

+

+<p>The leading events of our navy’s achievements and their special significance

+are related in this book, which is designed to interest the young reader

+in historical research. No more stirring chapter in our country’s history

+could be selected than is contained in the story of the navy from 1861 to 1898.</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Uncle Sam’s Secrets.</span></p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">A Story of National Affairs for the Youth of the Nation By

+<span class="smcap">O. P. Austin</span>. 75 cents.</p>

+

+<p>This volume furnishes to the youth of the land some facts about the

+administrative affairs of the nation&mdash;the Post-Office, Treasury, Mint, and

+other functions. Especially useful to the rising generation in stimulating a

+desire to become better informed of the affairs of their country, and to love

+and reverence its institutions.</p>

+

+

+<p class="p2 noi"><span class="adtitle">Uncle Sam’s Soldiers.</span></p>

+

+<p class="adauthor">By <span class="smcap">O. P. Austin</span>. 75 cents.</p>

+

+<p>The purpose of this story, like the preceding, is instruction, though here

+it is confined to military matters, including the organization and handling of

+armies. The story, which purports to be the experience of two boys verging

+upon manhood who served in Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines, gives

+the facts regarding modern military methods in a way that can not fail to

+interest.</p>

+

+

+<p class="adauthor">Special Gift Edition. 4 vols., 12mo. Colored Illustrations.

+Bound in Handsome Red Cloth, Boxed, $3.50.</p>

+

+

+<p class="noic adauthor bb bt">D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p>

+

+

+

+

+<hr class="chap" />

+<div class="tnote">

+<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber’s Notes:</p>

+

+<p>Printer, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently

+   corrected.</p>

+

+<p>Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p>

+

+<p>Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p>

+

+<p>The Author’s em-dash and long dash styles have been retained.</p>

+</div>

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+<pre>

+

+

+

+

+

+End of Project Gutenberg's Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

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+</pre>

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+</body>

+</html>

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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

+

+

+Title: Weatherby's Inning

+       A Story of College Life and Baseball

+

+Author: Ralph Henry Barbour

+

+Illustrator: C. M. Relyea

+

+Release Date: March 15, 2014 [EBook #45142]

+

+Language: English

+

+Character set encoding: ASCII

+

+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WEATHERBY'S INNING ***

+

+

+

+

+Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed

+Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+

+WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+

+

+

+BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.

+

+Each, 12mo, Cloth, Illustrated.

+

+

+Weatherby's Inning.

+

+Illustrated in Colors. $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+Behind the Line.

+

+A Story of School and Football. $1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+Captain of the Crew.

+

+$1.20 net; postage, 12 cents additional.

+

+

+For the Honor of the School.

+

+A Story of School Life and Interscholastic Sport. $1.50.

+

+

+The Half-Back.

+

+A Story of School, Football, and Golf. $1.50.

+

+

+D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK.

+

+

+

+

+[Illustration: Perkins was speeding for second.]

+

+

+

+

+  WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+  A Story of College

+  Life and Baseball

+

+  BY

+  RALPH HENRY BARBOUR

+

+  AUTHOR OF BEHIND THE LINE,

+  THE HALF-BACK, ETC.

+

+

+  _Illustrated by C. M. Relyea_

+

+

+  [Illustration]

+

+

+  New York

+  D. Appleton and Company

+  1903

+

+

+

+

+  COPYRIGHT, 1903

+  BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY

+

+

+_Published September, 1903_

+

+

+

+

+  TO

+  ALFRED LOUIS BAURY

+  AGED ELEVEN

+

+  YOUNGEST AND MOST LENIENT

+  OF CRITICS

+

+

+

+

+CONTENTS

+

+

+ CHAPTER                                   PAGE

+     I.--COWARD!                              1

+    II.--AN INTERRUPTION                     11

+   III.--MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF      19

+    IV.--CATCHER AND PITCHER                 30

+     V.--AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD            39

+    VI.--IN DISGRACE                         47

+   VII.--AT THE BATTING NETS                 57

+  VIII.--THE LAST STRAW                      68

+    IX.--ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE        80

+     X.--FLIGHT                              94

+    XI.--ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT          106

+   XII.--A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER              120

+  XIII.--JOE IS PESSIMISTIC                 127

+   XIV.--THE MASS-MEETING                   139

+    XV.--ANTHONY ON BASEBALL                148

+   XVI.--JACK COURTS THE MUSE               156

+  XVII.--ERSKINE _vs._ HARVARD              167

+ XVIII.--JACK AT SECOND                     176

+   XIX.--ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET             184

+    XX.--STOLEN PROPERTY                    194

+   XXI.--OFF TO COLLEGETOWN                 203

+  XXII.--AT THE END OF THE SIXTH            213

+ XXIII.--A TRIPLE PLAY                      223

+  XXIV.--WEATHERBY'S INNING                 239

+

+

+

+

+LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

+

+

+                                                               FACING

+                                                                 PAGE

+

+  Perkins was speeding for second.               _Frontispiece_

+  He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.                7

+  Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.                         47

+  "What's wrong, Weatherby?"                                       99

+  Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the turf.      238

+  With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.                       246

+

+

+

+

+WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER I

+

+COWARD!

+

+

+    UNIVERSITY BASEBALL.--All men who wish to try for the team

+    report in the cage on Monday, February 25th, at 3.30 sharp.

+

+    JOS. L. PERKINS, _Capt._

+

+Jack Weatherby, on his way out of the gymnasium, paused before the

+bulletin-board in the little drafty hall and read the call.

+

+"That's next Monday," he muttered. "All right, I'll be there."

+

+Then, putting a shoulder against the big oak door, he pushed his way

+out on to the granite steps and stood there a moment in scowling

+contemplation of the cheerless scene. Before him the board-walk was

+almost afloat in a shallow rivulet of melted snow that filled the

+gravel-path from side to side. A few steps away the path ended at the

+Washington Street gate in a veritable lake. The crossing was inches

+deep in water and the Common was a dismal waste of pools and streams

+out of which the soldiers' monument reared itself as though agonizedly

+searching for a dry spot to which to move. There was an incessant and

+monotonous dripping and trickling and gurgling as the snow, which

+two days before had covered the ground to a depth of over a foot,

+disappeared as by magic under the breath of an unseasonable south wind.

+The sky was leaden and lowering, and against it the bare branches of

+the numberless elm-trees swayed complainingly. The Common and so much

+of the college grounds as was in sight were deserted. Altogether it was

+a dispiriting prospect that met Jack's eyes, and one little likely to

+aid him in the task of fighting the "blues," which had oppressed him

+all day.

+

+He went listlessly down the steps, heroically striving to whistle a

+tune. But the tune had died out ere the sidewalk was reached. He looked

+with misgiving from the crossing to his shoes--shoes which even when

+new had been scarcely adapted to wet weather--and after a moment of

+hesitation gave up the idea of taking the usual short cut across the

+Common, and went on down Washington Street. As he began to pick his

+way gingerly across the wet pavement at the corner of Elm Street, two

+men ran down the steps of a boarding-house. They were talking in high,

+excited tones, and Jack could hear them until they had gone some

+distance toward the railroad.

+

+"The water's away up to the road, they say," one of them declared

+loudly, "and it's still rising. They're afraid the bridge'll go.

+There's a lot of ice coming down."

+

+"Should think it might go," said the other. "The old thing looks as

+though you could push it over if you tried."

+

+"Yes, don't it? Let's get a move on. We had a flood once up home

+that----"

+

+Then a heavy gust of wind, sweeping around the corner of the

+tumble-down livery-stable, drowned the conversation. Jack paused

+and silently weighed the respective attractions of a dark and not

+overcomfortable room in the green-shuttered house a few steps away,

+and a swollen river which might, if there was any such thing as good

+luck--which he had begun to doubt--sweep away the tottering old wooden

+bridge. Well, his feet were already wet, and so-- He retraced his steps

+to the corner and went on down Washington Street in the wake of the

+others. They were a block or so ahead, splashing their thick boots

+through all kinds of puddles. They were evidently the best of friends,

+for one kept his hand on the other's shoulder. Once the prankish wind

+bore a scrap of merry laughter up the street, and Jack, plodding along

+behind, wary of puddles, as befits a fellow who is wearing his only

+pair of winter shoes, heard it and felt gloomier and more forlorn than

+ever.

+

+He wondered what it was like to have real friends and a chum; to be

+well known and liked. He had come to Erskine College in September fully

+expecting such things to fall to his share. But he had been there five

+months now and during that time his life had been very lonely. At

+first he had tried to make friends in a diffident way. Perhaps he had

+tried with the wrong men; perhaps his manner had been against him; the

+result had been discouraging, and after a while, smarting under what to

+his oversensitive feelings seemed rebuffs, he had ceased looking for

+friends and had retired into a shell of pessimism and injured pride,

+masking his loneliness under simulated indifference. Since then he had

+undoubtedly lost many a chance to find the companionship he craved; but

+he had learned his lesson, he told himself bitterly, and so he rejected

+advances as though they were the deadliest of insults.

+

+He didn't look the least bit like a misanthrope. He was seventeen years

+old, large for his age, lithe, muscular and healthy-looking, as is

+proper in a boy who has never been pampered, with a face which even at

+the present moment, in spite of the expression of settled bitterness

+that marred it, was eminently attractive. His eyes were well apart and

+gray in color; his hair was light brown, and his mouth, which of late

+had formed the unfortunate habit of wearing a little supercilious sneer

+in public, looked generous and honest, and, with the firmly rounded

+chin beneath, suggested force and capability. On the whole he was a

+clean-cut, manly-looking boy to whom fortune, you would have said, owed

+much.

+

+When Jack Weatherby reached the river he found that the report of

+its depredations was not exaggerated. To be sure, River Street was

+still above water, but the flood was well over the bank in places,

+and farther along, in front of the coal-yards, several of the wharves

+were awash. The broad stream, usually a quiet, even sluggish body, was

+sending up a new sound, a low, threatening roar which, without his

+having realized it, had reached Jack's ears long before he had sighted

+the river.

+

+He wormed his way through the crowd of townfolk that lined the

+street, and, passing through an empty coal-pocket, found himself on a

+spray-drenched string-piece a foot above the water. To his right and

+left piers ran some distance into the river. They were untenanted. But

+beyond them the open spaces used by the coal company as storage ground

+for wagons were black with watchers. A short way off was the bridge,

+a low, wooden structure connecting Centerport with the little village

+of Kirkplain across the river. Jack was on the up-stream side of the

+bridge and could see the havoc that the drifting ice was making with

+the worn spiling and hear the crashing and grinding as cake after cake

+was hurled and jammed against it. Several of the supports were already

+broken, and the entrance to the bridge was barred with a rope and

+guarded by a member of Centerport's small police force.

+

+Jack drew back as far as he could from the edge of the beam and with

+his shoulders against the boards of the big bin watched in strange

+fascination the black, angry water rushing past. It frightened and

+repelled him, and yet he found it difficult to remove his gaze. For as

+long as he could remember he had been afraid of water. Once, when he

+was only five years old, he had fallen into the brook that crossed his

+father's farm and had almost drowned before his mother, hastening after

+the runaway, had dragged him out. His recollection of the escapade was

+very hazy, but it had left him with a dread of water that was almost a

+mania. All efforts to combat it had proved futile. He had never learned

+to swim, and had never in all his life trusted himself in a boat. And

+yet, as a boy, he had devoured ravenously all the stories of the sea he

+could lay hands on, and had shuddered over shipwrecks and similar

+disasters, at once repelled and fascinated.

+

+Suddenly his contemplation of the river was disturbed by shouts of

+alarm from up-stream. With an effort he withdrew his gaze from the

+water and looked in the direction of the cries. At that instant, around

+the corner of the pier to his right, floated something that thrashed

+the water wildly and sent up shrill appeals for help. After the first

+second of bewilderment Jack saw that it was a boy of thirteen or

+fourteen years. The white face, horribly drawn with terror, turned

+toward him, and, for an instant, the frightened, staring eyes looked

+into his. Jack sickened and groped blindly for support. A trick of the

+current shot the struggling body into the little harbor afforded by the

+two piers, almost at his feet. In his ears was a meaningless babel of

+shouts and in his heart an awful fear. He leaned back with outstretched

+hands clinging to the planks behind him and closed his eyes to avoid

+the sight of the appealing face below. Then, with a gasp, he sank to

+his knees, seized the string-piece with one hand, and with the other

+reached downward. But he was too late. The current, sweeping out again,

+had already borne the boy beyond reach. There was a final despairing

+shriek, then the arms ceased to struggle and the eddies closed over

+the body. Jack joined his voice impotently with the others and looked

+wildly about for a plank or a rope--anything that he could throw into

+the water. But there was nothing. Sick and dizzy he subsided against

+the timbers.

+

+[Illustration: He leaned back, clinging to the planks behind him.]

+

+Then, just at the corner of the down-stream wharf, the body came to the

+surface again, the eyes sightless, the lips silent. And, almost too

+late, came help.

+

+Jack, leaning near the opening in the coal-bin, felt rather than saw

+some one push by him. The rescuer, a man several years Jack's senior,

+had discarded his coat and vest, and now, stooping and placing a hand

+lightly on the string-piece, he dropped into the water. A half dozen

+strokes took him to the end of the pier, and just as the drowning boy

+was again sinking he caught him. Turning, he struck out toward Jack,

+swimming desperately against the swirling current. For a minute it

+was difficult work; then he reached stiller water, and Jack, leaning

+over the edge, stretched forth eager hands to help. But ere he could

+do so he was pushed aside, narrowly saving himself from pitching head

+foremost into the water, and a middle-aged man, whom Jack a moment

+later saw to be Professor White, relieved the rescuer of his burden.

+

+By that time the narrow foothold along the edge of the river was

+thronged with students and townfolk. Quickly the apparently lifeless

+body was borne past them through the yard and into a small office.

+Jack, trembling in every limb, followed. But near the door he suddenly

+became aware of a hostile atmosphere. The crowd, which had grown every

+minute, were observing him curiously, contemptuously, muttering and

+whispering. The blood rushed into his face and then receded, leaving it

+deathly pale. For a moment he faced them. Then a small boy somewhere on

+the edge of the throng sent up a shrill cry:

+

+"That's him! That's the feller that didn't make no try ter save him!

+'Fraid of wettin' his feet, he was!"

+

+Jack looked about him and read in the faces that confronted him only

+merciless condemnation. Something in his throat hurt him and refused

+to be dislodged. With head up he turned and made his way through the

+crowd, the old sneer on his lips. But there was worse in store. He felt

+a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Professor White beside him.

+

+"What's your name?" asked the professor sternly.

+

+"Weatherby, sir," muttered Jack.

+

+"Are you a student?"

+

+"Yes, sir."

+

+"What class?"

+

+"Six."

+

+The professor looked at him searchingly, then dropped the hand from his

+shoulder.

+

+"I find that hard to believe," he said contemptuously. "I didn't think

+we had any cowards here at Erskine!"

+

+He turned away, and Jack, after a moment of hesitation, a moment in

+which his first inclination to protest against the injustice of the

+verdict was drowned in a sudden dumbing surge of anger, made his way

+out of the throng and stumbled back to his room through the gathering

+twilight.

+

+[Illustration: PLAN OF ERSKINE COLLEGE AND THE TOWN OF CENTERPORT 1901]

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER II

+

+AN INTERRUPTION

+

+

+Erskine College, at Centerport, is not large. Like many another New

+England college its importance lies rather in its works than in wealth

+or magnificence. Its enrolment in all departments at the time of which

+I write was about 600. I am not going to describe the college, it would

+take too long; and besides, it has been done very frequently and very

+well, and if the reader, after studying the accompanying plan, which

+is reproduced with the kind permission of the authorities, feels the

+need of further description, I would respectfully refer him to Balcom's

+Handbook of Erskine (photographically illustrated) and May's History of

+Erskine College. And if in connection with these he examines the annual

+catalogue he will know about all there is to be known of the subject.

+

+Leaving Washington Street and going west on Elm Street, he will find,

+facing the apex of the Common, a small white frame cottage profusely

+adorned with blinds of a most vivid green. That is Mrs. Dorlon's. It

+is by far the tiniest of the many boarding- and lodging-houses that

+line the outer curve of Elm Street, and, as might be supposed, its

+rooms are few and not commodious. Mrs. Dorlon, a small, middle-aged

+widow, with a perpetual cold in the head, reserves the lower floor for

+her own use and rents the two up-stairs rooms to students. Between

+these second-floor apartments there is little to choose. The western

+one gets the afternoon sunlight, while the one on the other side of

+the hall gets none. To make up for this, however, the eastern room is,

+or was, at the time of my story, the proud possessor of a register,

+supposed, somewhat erroneously, to conduct warm air into the apartment;

+while the western room, to use the language of Mrs. Dorlon, was "het by

+gas."

+

+Aside from these differences, apparent rather than real, the two

+chambers were similar. In each there was a strip of narrow territory

+in which it was possible to stand upright, flanked on either side

+by abruptly sloping ceilings whose flaking expanses were broken by

+dormer-windows, admitting a little light and a deal of cold. It was the

+eastern room that Jack Weatherby at present called home, a feat which

+implied the possession of a great deal of imagination on his part. For

+when, having escaped the hostile throng by the river and made his way

+up Washington into Elm Street, and so to the house with the painfully

+green blinds, the room in which he found himself didn't look the least

+bit in the world like home.

+

+The iron cot-bed, despite its vivid imitation Bagdad covering, failed

+to deceive the beholder into mistaking it for a Turkish divan. The

+faded and threadbare ingrain carpet, much too small to cover the

+floor, was of a chilly, inhospitable shade of blue. The occupant

+had made little attempt at decoration, partly because the amount of

+wall space adapted to pictures was extremely limited, partly because

+from the first the cheerless ugliness of the room discouraged him.

+The green-topped study table near the end window was a sorry piece

+of furniture. Former users had carved cabalistic designs into the

+walnut rim and adorned the imitation leather covering with even

+more mysterious figures; there were evidences, too, of overturned

+ink-bottles. A yellow-grained wardrobe beside the door leaned wearily

+against the supporting angle of the ceiling.

+

+The brightest note in the room was a patent rocker upholstered in vivid

+green and yellow Brussels carpet. If we except a walnut book-shelf

+hanging beside the end window and a wash-stand jammed under one dormer,

+the enumeration of the furnishings is complete. Even on days when the

+sun shone against the white gable of the next house, the apartment

+could scarcely be called cheerful, and this afternoon with the evening

+shadows closing down and the wind whipping the branches of the elms

+outside and buffeting the house until it creaked complainingly, the

+room was forlorn to a degree.

+

+After slamming the door behind him Jack tossed aside his cap, and

+subsiding into the rocker stretched his legs and stared miserably

+through the window into a swaying world of gray branches and darkening

+sky. The overmastering anger that had sent him striding home as

+though pursued dwindled away and left in its place a loneliness and

+discouragement that hurt like a physical pain. Things had been bad

+before, he thought, but now, branded in public a coward and despised

+by his fellows, life would be unbearable! He pictured the glances

+of contempt that would meet him on the morrow in hall and yard, or

+wherever he went, and groaned. He recalled the professor's biting

+words: "I didn't think we had any cowards here at Erskine!" and

+clenched his hands in sudden overmastering rage. The injustice of it

+maddened him. Would Professor White, he asked himself, have gone into

+the river after the drowning boy if, like himself, he were unable to

+swim a stroke and sickened at the mere thought of contact with the icy

+flood?

+

+Presently his thoughts reverted to the morrow and the punishment

+he must undergo. His courage faltered, and the alternative, that of

+packing his few things there and then and leaving college by an early

+train in the morning, seemed the only course possible. Well, he would

+do it. It would mean disappointment to his parents and a loss of money

+they could ill afford. To him it would mean five months of study

+wasted. But better that than staying on there despised and ridiculed,

+to be pointed out behind his back as The Coward.

+

+With a gasp he leaped to his feet, his cheeks tingling and his eyes

+moist with sudden tears. The room was in darkness. He fumbled over

+the desk until he found the match-box. When the gas was lighted he

+remembered the condition of his feet, and drawing a chair before the

+register he removed his wet shoes and placed them against the warm

+grating that they might dry overnight. His battered silver watch showed

+the time to be a few minutes before six. He found dry socks, and

+drawing them over his chilled feet donned a pair of carpet slippers.

+Then he washed for supper, bathing his flushed face over and over,

+and got back into his coat just as a weak-voiced bell below summoned

+the small household to the evening meal. As he went out he noted with

+surprise that the door of the opposite room was ajar, allowing a streak

+of light to illumine the upper hall with unaccustomed radiance. The

+room had been vacant all the year, but now, evidently, Mrs. Dorlon had

+found a tenant. But the fact interested him little, for his mind was

+firmly made up, and on the morrow his own room would be for rent.

+

+When he entered the tiny dining-room Mrs. Dorlon and her daughter, a

+shy wisp of a girl some twelve or thirteen years of age, were already

+seated at the table. Jack muttered greetings and applied himself

+silently to the cold meat and graham bread which, with crab-apple jelly

+and weak tea, comprised the meal. But his hostess was plainly elated,

+and after a few pregnant snuffles the secret was out. The western

+chamber was rented!

+

+"And such a nice, pleasant-mannered young man he is," she declared. "A

+Mr. Tidball, a junior. Perhaps you have met him?"

+

+Jack shook his head.

+

+"Well, I'm sure you'll like him, and it'll be real pleasant for you to

+have another student in the house. I know what it is to be alone"--she

+sniffed sadly--"since Mr. Dorlon died, and I guess you feel downright

+lonely sometimes up there. If you like I'll introduce Mr. Tidball after

+supper?"

+

+The widow appeared to find a mild excitement at the thought, and her

+face fell when Jack begged off. "Not this evening, please," he said.

+"I'm going to be very busy, Mrs. Dorlon."

+

+"Oh, very well. I only thought--" What she thought he never knew, for

+excusing himself he pushed back his chair and returned to his room. As

+he closed his door he heard the new lodger whistling cheerfully and

+tunelessly across the hallway.

+

+He dragged a steamer trunk from under the bed, threw back the lid and

+unceremoniously hustled the contents on to the floor. Then he took

+a valise from the wardrobe and proceeded to pack into it what few

+belongings would serve him until he could send for his trunk. The

+latter he couldn't take with him. In the first place, there was no way

+of getting it to the depot in time for the early train; in the second

+place, as he was not now able to pay Mrs. Dorlon the present month's

+rent, he felt that he ought to leave something behind him as security.

+The prospect of going home raised his spirits, and he felt happier

+than he had for many months. He even hummed an air as he tramped

+busily between the wardrobe and the trunk, and the result was that

+the first knock on the door passed unheeded. After a moment the knock

+was repeated, and this time Jack heard it and paused in the act of

+spreading his Sunday trousers in the till and looked the consternation

+he felt. Who was it, he wondered. Perhaps Mrs. Dorlon come to hint

+about the rent; perhaps--but whoever it might be, Jack didn't want

+his preparations seen. He softly closed the trunk lid and wished that

+he had locked the door. He waited silently. Perhaps the caller would

+go away. Then, as he began to think with relief that this had already

+happened, the knob turned, the door swung open, and a lean, spectacled

+face peered through the opening.

+

+"I thought maybe you didn't hear me knock," said a queer, drawling

+voice. "I've taken the room across the way, and as we're going to be

+neighbors I thought I'd just step over and get acquainted."

+

+The caller came in and closed the door behind him, casting an

+interested look about the shabby apartment. Jack, after an instant of

+surprise and dismay, muttered a few words of embarrassed greeting. As

+he did so he recognized in the odd, lanky figure at the door the hero

+of the accident at the river.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER III

+

+MR. TIDBALL INTRODUCES HIMSELF

+

+

+The caller looked to be about twenty-one or two years of age. He was

+tall, thin, and angular, and carried himself awkwardly. His shoulders

+had the stoop that tells of much poring over books. His hands and

+feet were large, the former knotted and ungainly. His face was lean,

+the cheeks somewhat sunken; the nose was large and well-shapen and

+the mouth, altogether too broad, looked good-natured and humorous. He

+wore steel-rimmed spectacles, behind which twinkled a pair of small,

+pale-blue eyes, kindly and shrewd. His clothes seemed at first sight to

+belong to some one very much larger; the trousers hung in baggy folds

+about his legs and his coat went down behind his neck exposing at least

+an inch of checkered gingham shirt.

+

+And yet, despite the incongruity of his appearance, he impressed Jack

+as being a person of importance, a man who knew things and who was

+capable of turning his knowledge to good account. Tidball? Where

+had he heard the name of Tidball? As he thought of it now, the name

+seemed strangely familiar. Recollecting his duties as host, Jack pushed

+forward the patent rocker.

+

+"Won't you sit down?" he asked.

+

+The visitor sank into the chair, bringing one big foot, loosely encased

+in a frayed leather slipper, on to one knee, and clasping it with both

+knotted hands quite as though he feared it might walk off when he

+wasn't looking.

+

+"Queer sort of weather we're having," he drawled. He talked through

+his nose with a twang that proclaimed him a native of the coast. Jack

+concurred, sitting uncomfortably on the edge of the cot and wondering

+whether Tidball recognized him.

+

+"Mrs. Thingamabob down-stairs said you were from Maine. Maine's my

+State. I come from Jonesboro; ever hear of Jonesboro?"

+

+"No, I don't believe so." The visitor chuckled.

+

+"Never met any one who had. Guess I'm about the only resident of that

+metropolis who ever strayed out of it. There's one fellow in our town,

+though, who went down to Portland once about forty years back. He's

+looked on as quite a traveler in Jonesboro."

+

+Jack smiled. "My folks live near Auburn," he said.

+

+"Nice place, Auburn. By the way, my name's Tidball--Anthony Z. Z stands

+for Zeno; guess I'm a sort of a Stoic myself." The remark was lost on

+Jack, whose acquaintance with the Greek philosophers was still limited.

+

+"My name's Weatherby," he returned. "My first name's Jack; I haven't

+any middle name."

+

+"You're lucky," answered the other. "They might have called you

+Xenophanes, you see." Jack didn't see, but he smiled doubtfully, and

+the visitor went on. "Well, now we know each other. We're the only

+fellows in the hut and we might as well get together, eh? Guess I saw

+you this afternoon down at the river, didn't I?"

+

+Jack flushed and nodded.

+

+"Thought so." There was a moment's silence, during which the visitor's

+shrewd eyes studied Jack openly and calmly and during which all the old

+misery, forgotten for the moment, came back to the boy. Then--

+

+"Guess you can't swim, eh?" asked the other.

+

+"No, not a stroke," muttered Jack.

+

+"Thought so," reiterated Tidball. There was another silence. Then Jack

+said, with an uneasy laugh:

+

+"There's no doubt but that you can, though."

+

+"Me? Yes, I can swim like a shark. Down in Jonesboro we learn when

+we're a year old. Comes natural to us coasters."

+

+"It was lucky you were there this afternoon," said Jack.

+

+"Oh, some one else would have gone in, I guess!"

+

+"He--he didn't--he wasn't drowned, was he?"

+

+"The kid? No, but plaguy near it. He's all right now, I guess. Teach

+him a lesson."

+

+"Did the bridge go?" asked Jack after a moment, merely to break another

+silence.

+

+"No, water was going down when I left. Guess I'm in the way, though,

+ain't I?"

+

+"In the way?"

+

+"Yes; weren't you doing something when I came in? Packing a trunk or

+something?"

+

+"Oh, it--it doesn't matter; there's no hurry."

+

+"Going home over Sunday?"

+

+"Y--yes."

+

+"You're lucky; wish I was. But don't let me interrupt; go ahead and

+I'll just sit here out of the way, if you don't mind my staying."

+

+"Not at all; I--I'm glad to have you." And the odd thing about it, as

+Jack realized the next moment, was that he meant what he said. The

+visitor drew a little brier pipe from one pocket and a pouch from

+another.

+

+"Smoke?" he asked.

+

+"No," answered Jack.

+

+"Mind if I do?"

+

+"Not a bit." Tidball stuffed the bowl with tobacco and was soon sending

+long clouds of rankly smelling smoke into the air.

+

+"Don't begin," he advised. "It's a mean habit; wastes time and money

+and doesn't do you any good after all. Wish I didn't."

+

+"But couldn't you break yourself of it?" asked Jack.

+

+Tidball chuckled again and blew a great mouthful of gray smoke toward

+the gaslight.

+

+"Don't want to," he answered.

+

+"Oh!" said Jack, puzzled.

+

+"Going to take your trunk?" asked the other, waving his pipe toward it.

+

+"No, just a bag. I'll send for the trunk later." Then, as he realized

+his mistake, the blood rushed into his cheeks. He looked up at Tidball

+and found that person eying him quizzically. "I--I mean--that----"

+

+"No harm done," interrupted the visitor. "Thought when I came in you

+meant to cut and run. Why?"

+

+"Because--because I can't stay," answered Jack defiantly. "You--you

+were there and you saw it. Everybody thinks I'm a coward! Professor

+White said--said--" He choked and looked down miserably at his twisting

+fingers.

+

+"Well, you aren't, are you?"

+

+Jack glanced up startledly.

+

+"Why--why--no, I'm not a coward!" he cried.

+

+"Didn't think you were. You don't look it."

+

+Jack experienced a grateful warmth at the heart and looked shyly and

+thankfully at the queer, lean face across the room.

+

+"But--but they all think I am," he muttered.

+

+"I wouldn't prove them right, then, if I were you."

+

+"Prove-- What do you mean?"

+

+"Mean I wouldn't run away; mean I'd stay and fight it out. Any one can

+run; takes a brave man to stand and fight."

+

+"Oh!" Jack stared wonderingly at Tidball. "I hadn't thought of that."

+

+"'Tisn't too late."

+

+"N--no," answered Jack doubtfully. "You--think I ought to stay?"

+

+"Yes, I honestly do, Weatherby. You've got nothing to be ashamed of;

+'twouldn't have done any good if you'd gone into the river; guess you'd

+been drowned--'tother chap, too. White jumped at conclusions and

+landed wrong. Can't much blame him, though. You see, the fellows here

+at Erskine come from the country, or the coast, or some small town,

+and swimming's as natural as eating, and I guess it didn't occur to

+them that maybe you couldn't swim. But when they learn the truth of the

+matter----"

+

+"But they won't know," said Jack.

+

+"Bound to. I'll see White myself, and I'll tell all the chaps I know;

+'twon't take long for the facts to get around."

+

+"I'd rather you didn't, if you don't mind," said Jack. "It's awfully

+kind of you----"

+

+"Didn't what?"

+

+"See Professor White."

+

+"Well--of course, I know you're feeling kind of sore at him, Weatherby,

+and I don't much blame you; still, there's no use in allowing the

+misunderstanding to continue when a word or two will set things right."

+

+"I don't care what he thinks," said Jack, bitterly.

+

+"All right," replied Tidball calmly. "How about the others?"

+

+Jack studied his hands in silence for a minute. Then he threw back his

+shoulders and got up.

+

+"You're mighty kind," he said, "to want to take all this trouble on

+my account, and I'm awfully much obliged to you, but--if you don't

+mind--I'd rather you didn't say anything to anybody."

+

+Tidball frowned.

+

+"Then you mean to run away?" he asked disappointedly.

+

+"No, I'll stay and--and fight! Let them think me a coward if they like;

+only some day I'll show them I'm not!"

+

+"That's the stuff," said the other approvingly. "I guess you're making

+a mistake by not explaining, but--maybe you'll change your mind. If you

+do, let me know."

+

+"Thanks," answered Jack, "but I sha'n't." He took up his valise and

+holding it upside down emptied the contents on to the cot. "I wish

+you'd tell me one thing," he said.

+

+"All right."

+

+"Did you--I mean-- Well, did you just happen to come in, or--did you

+know I was--The Coward?"

+

+"Well," drawled the other, smiling gently at a cloud of smoke, "Mrs.

+Thingamabob told me yesterday when I engaged that room that she had a

+very nice young man, a freshman named Weatherby, living with her. The

+name isn't common, I guess, and so when I heard it again down at the

+wharf I remembered. And I just thought I'd come in and see what silly

+thing you'd decided to do. Kind of cheeky, I guess, but that's my way.

+Hope you're not offended?"

+

+"No, I'm awfully glad. If you hadn't come I'd have gone away, sure as

+anything."

+

+"Glad I came. Hope we'll be friends. You must come over and see me.

+You won't find things very palatial in my place, but there's an extra

+chair, I think. I don't go in much for luxuries. I was rooming in a

+place on Main Street until to-day; very comfortable place it was, too:

+folding-bed, lounge, rocking-chair, and a study desk with real drawers

+that locked--at least, some of them did. My roommate was a fellow named

+Gooch, from up my way. His father died a week or so ago, and yesterday

+I got a letter from him saying he'd have to leave college and buckle

+down to work. Couldn't afford to keep the room alone, so I looked round

+and found this. Well, I must be going."

+

+He pulled his long length out of the chair, and, producing from a

+chamois pouch a handsome big gold watch, oddly at variance with his

+shabby attire, held it nearsightedly to the dim light.

+

+"Don't be in a hurry," begged Jack. And then, "That's a dandy watch you

+have," he added. "May I see it?"

+

+"Yes," answered Tidball, holding it forth at the length of its chain,

+"it's the only swell thing I own. It's a present."

+

+"Oh!" said Jack. "Well, it's a beauty. And it's got a split-second

+attachment, too, hasn't it?"

+

+"Yes, and when you press this thing here it strikes the time; hear it?

+Guess it cost a heap of money."

+

+"It must have. Was it a prize?"

+

+"Something like that. A New York fellow gave it to me summer before

+last. He came up to Jonesboro in a steam-yacht about a thousand feet

+long. Well, I've got a lot of studying to do yet." He moved toward the

+door.

+

+"But why did he give it to you?" asked Jack. "But maybe I'm asking

+impertinent questions?"

+

+"Oh, no; there's no secret about it, only-- Well, you see, this

+steam-yacht man had his son with him, a kid of about eleven or twelve,

+I guess, and one day the kid fell out of the naphtha-launch. There was

+a good sea running, and they couldn't get the launch about very well. I

+happened to be near there in a dory, and so I picked the youngster up.

+His daddy seemed a good deal tickled about it, and after he got home he

+sent this to me. That's all. Some people seem to have money to burn.

+Well, good night. Glad to have met you. Come over and call as soon as

+you can."

+

+And Anthony Z. Tidball nodded, blew a parting cloud of smoke in Jack's

+direction, and went out, closing the door softly behind him.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER IV

+

+CATCHER AND PITCHER

+

+

+"Well, it wasn't such a bad showing, was it?"

+

+Joe Perkins tossed his purple cap adorned with a white E on to the

+table and threw himself among the cushions of the window-seat in the

+manner of one who has earned his rest. He was a jovial-looking fellow

+of medium height, rather inclined toward stoutness. His hair was

+undeniably red, and despite that his features were good, none would

+have called him handsome. But his blue eyes were alert and his mouth

+firm. He had the quick temper popularly believed to accompany red hair,

+but it was well under control, and Joe's usual appearance was one of

+extreme good nature. He was popular, perhaps the most popular fellow

+in college, and he knew it, and was not spoiled by the knowledge. His

+friends believed in him and he believed in himself. Perhaps it was

+the latter fact that made him such a wonderful leader. Ever since his

+freshman year he had been among the foremost in all college affairs.

+Last spring, after the disastrous 7--0 baseball game with Robinson,

+the selection of Joe, whose catching had been a feature of the contest,

+as captain, was unanimous and enthusiastic, and the supporters of the

+Purple, mourning overwhelming defeat, felt their sorrow lightened by

+the knowledge that Joe Perkins, in accepting the office, had pledged

+himself to retrieve Erskine's lost prestige on the diamond. The whole

+college firmly believed that what Joe Perkins promised he would perform.

+

+Joe's companion was Tracy Gilberth. Like Joe, he was a senior

+and a member of the nine. Unlike Joe, he did not impress one as

+being particularly good-natured; nor did he resemble that youth in

+appearance. He had straight dark hair and black eyes. His cheeks were

+ruddy and his mouth straight and thin. He was of middle height and

+weight, and pitched the best ball of any man in college. In age he

+was a year Joe's senior, being twenty-three. He had none of the other

+man's popularity, although he was not disliked. Acquaintances suspected

+him of arrogance; in talking he had a tone that sounded patronizing

+to those not used to it. His parents were immensely wealthy; rumor

+credited his father with being a millionaire several times over. At all

+events, Tracy had the most luxuriously furnished rooms at Erskine, and

+spent more money than the rest of his class put together.

+

+At the present moment he was sitting in Joe's Morris chair with his

+hands in his pockets and his golf-stockinged legs sprawled before him.

+He replied to Joe's question with a negligent nod that might have

+meant either assent or denial. Joe took it to express the former, and

+continued:

+

+"A heap better than last year, anyhow. Thirty candidates at this time

+of year means sixty when we get outdoors."

+

+"Yes, but it isn't quantity that counts, Joe," said Tracy. "Look at the

+sort of greenies you had to-day. I'll bet there isn't a decent player

+among them, outside of the few last-year men that were there. If I were

+captain I'd rather have fifteen good players than fifty would-bes."

+

+"You're an awful croaker, Tracy. For goodness' sake, let me be

+happy while I can. To-morrow I shall be quite ready to believe that

+to-day's bunch is merely a lot of hopeless idiots; but this evening I

+am an optimist; I see phenomenal pitchers, star catchers, wonderful

+first-basemen, in short, an aggregation of brilliant players destined

+to wipe Robinson off the face of the earth. Leave me to my dreams, old

+man."

+

+"All right; only when you wake up you'll find you've fallen out of

+bed," answered Tracy. "Have you heard from Hanson?"

+

+"Yes, he's coming up Wednesday to look around."

+

+"I hope he'll like what he sees," said Tracy, grimly. "I suppose

+you saw that fellow Weatherby there to-day? That chap must have the

+sensibilities of a goat. Think of his having the cheek to show up in

+the cage as a baseball candidate after what happened Friday! Why, if I

+were he I wouldn't have the courage to show my face outside of my room.

+Not a fellow spoke to him to-day, but he didn't seem to mind a bit."

+

+"I spoke to him," said Joe.

+

+"Oh, you had to!"

+

+"And I think you're mistaken about his not caring. He kept a pretty

+stiff upper lip, but I have a hunch that he wasn't happy."

+

+"Happy! I should say not. If he expects to be happy as long as he stays

+at Erskine he's going to be awfully fooled. The chap ought to be driven

+out of college."

+

+"It's an unfortunate affair," answered Joe dispassionately, "and I

+don't pretend to understand it. But I must confess that I'm a bit sorry

+for the chap. It may just be that there was some reason for his not

+going in after that boy. Maybe he got rattled; you can't tell."

+

+"Oh, poppycock! Maybe he was blind or asleep! Why didn't he spunk up,

+then, and say something? He just walked off with his head in the air,

+as proud as you please, without a word. The plain fact of the matter is

+that he's a coward clean through."

+

+"Well--but if he is, why did he report to-day? Seems to me that took

+something a good deal like courage. He knows plaguy well what the

+college thinks of him. Great Scott, if I had been in his boots I'd no

+more have thought of coming there among all those fellows----!"

+

+"That's what I say. He's got just about the same sensibilities as a

+billy-goat. I dare say he's rather proud of himself. But don't you

+worry, Joe, you won't be troubled with him long; we'll soon show him

+that the baseball team doesn't want cowards. You leave him to us, old

+man."

+

+"No, you don't, Tracy; you leave him to me. I'm bossing this outfit,

+and I'm quite capable of getting rid of any one I don't want. The

+fellow says he can play ball, and it's fellows who can play ball that

+I'm after, and not life-saving heroes."

+

+Tracy stared across at his friend in disgust.

+

+"Well, I can tell you one thing, Joe, and that is that you'll find that

+there will be lots of fellows who simply won't go on to the team if you

+keep Weatherby; and one of 'em's me!"

+

+"Nonsense," answered the other, quite undisturbed. "Your precious

+morals aren't going to be hurt by playing on the same acre of green

+grass as Weatherby. Nor by sitting at the same table with him, for that

+matter. At any rate, don't get excited yet; it's a fair guess that

+Weatherby doesn't know enough about the game to make the team. But

+as long as he's trying for it I won't have him bullied." Joe sat up

+suddenly and punched a purple and white cushion viciously. "I tell you

+candidly, old man, I'm going to turn out a winning team this spring,

+and just as long as a fellow plays good ball and does as he's told, I

+don't give a continental if he's ostracized by the whole State! I gave

+my solemn word to Tom Higgins last year, after the game, that I'd win

+from Robinson, and I'm going to keep that promise!"

+

+"I'll never forget old Tom that day. The poor duffer was crying like a

+baby all the way back to the yard. 'You'll be captain, Joe,' he said,

+'and you've got to promise to wipe this out. You've got to give me

+your word of honor, Joe.' 'I'll do everything that I can, Tom,' said

+I. And we shook hands on it. 'If you don't beat them next year, Joe,'

+he blubbered, 'I'll come back here and I'll lick you until you can't

+stand. I swear I will!' And he would, too," laughed Joe.

+

+"That's all well enough," answered Tracy, "but you don't want to go too

+far, Joe; the fellows won't stand everything even from you."

+

+"What do you mean?"

+

+"Well, there's lots of 'em now who think you've made a mistake in

+choosing Hanson for coach; you know that. They say that Hanson lost

+everything when he was captain three years ago, and that year before

+last, when he coached, we lost again. They think you should have got a

+coach who had something to show. And now if you insist on putting it on

+to the fellows with this coward, Weatherby, you'll have to look out for

+squalls."

+

+"Good stuff!" Joe's blue eyes sparkled, and his mouth set itself

+straightly. "I'm open to all the squalls that come my way. I like

+squalls. And when they've blown over the other chaps may be surprised

+to find that they're a considerable distance from the scene of

+operations. Oh, no, my boy, you can't scare me by talking that way! I

+know what the fellows said--some of them, that is--about my selecting

+Hanson, and I don't give a continental. Hanson is all right. When

+he was captain here he had the poorest lot of players that any man

+ever had to contend with; anybody who was in college will tell you

+that. They couldn't field and they couldn't bat; the only thing they

+could do was kick; they kicked about the schedule, and they kicked

+about the amount of work they had to do, and they kicked about the

+training-table. Nobody on earth could have won with that team. As for

+year before last, Hanson coached and we didn't win, I know. We didn't

+win last year, for that matter, but nobody lays the blame on the coach.

+Hanson is all right. He knows the game all through; he's a gentleman,

+and he gives every minute of his time to the team. The best judge of

+whether what I say is true is 'Baldy' Simson. You go and ask 'Baldy,'

+and if he doesn't tell you the same thing I'll eat my hat. And when you

+hear a trainer say that a coach is all right, there's something in it."

+

+"Oh, well, I don't know much about it myself! I'm only saying what the

+fellows in general think, Joe."

+

+"I know; there's no harm done. Only, if there are any squalls, Tracy,

+you take your friends and get into a cellar somewhere until they've

+blown over," said Joe suggestively.

+

+"Oh, I'm not scared!" Tracy replied, laughing uneasily. "I'll stand by

+you."

+

+"All right," answered Joe gravely. "That'll be safest."

+

+There came a knock at the door, and Joe shouted, "Come in!" When

+he saw who his caller was he arose from the window-seat and stepped

+forward.

+

+"How are you, Weatherby? Want to see me?"

+

+"Yes, if you have a minute to spare." Jack looked calmly at the

+occupant of the Morris chair, and Joe understood.

+

+"Certainly," he answered. "Sit down." Then, "I don't like to put you

+out, old man," he said, turning to Tracy, who had so far made no move

+toward withdrawing, "but I guess I'll have to ask you to excuse me a

+moment."

+

+"That's all right," replied Tracy, lazily pulling himself out of his

+seat and staring insolently at the newcomer. "I'm a bit particular,

+anyway." He lounged to the door, carefully avoiding contact with Jack.

+"See you in the morning," he added. "So long."

+

+When the door had closed, Joe glanced at the caller, instinctively

+framing an apology for the insult. But Jack's countenance gave no

+indication that he had even heard it. Joe marveled and pointed to a

+chair.

+

+"Sit down, won't you?" he asked politely.

+

+The other shook his head.

+

+"No, thanks. What I've got to say will take but a minute," he answered

+calmly.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER V

+

+AN ENCOUNTER IN THE YARD

+

+

+"Oh," said Joe, vaguely, "all right." He wondered, rather uncomfortably,

+what was coming.

+

+"It's just this," Jack continued. "I tried to get a word with you in

+the cage, but there was always some one around. I wanted to know if--if

+after what happened the other day at the river, you have any objection

+to my trying for the nine. You see," he went on, hurriedly, "I know

+what the fellows call me, and I thought maybe you'd rather I didn't

+come out. You just tell me, you know, and it'll be all right. I won't

+show up again."

+

+"I see," said Joe. "No, I haven't the least objection; in fact, I'm

+glad to have you. I don't pretend to judge that--affair at the river,

+Weatherby; it's none of my business. And the fact is, I want every man

+that can play baseball to report for practise. That's plain, isn't it?"

+

+"Yes. I'll keep on then for the present."

+

+"Of course, Weatherby, I can't guarantee that you'll be made welcome

+by the other candidates; you can understand that. They may act

+unpleasantly, or say ugly things. I'm not able to restrain them. You'll

+have to risk that, you know."

+

+"I understand," answered Jack calmly. "They've already called me a

+coward. I don't believe they can say anything worse."

+

+"No, I guess not." Joe looked curiously at the other. Then, "I say,

+Weatherby," he exclaimed, impulsively, "what was the trouble, anyway,

+the other day? I've only heard one side of it, and I fancy there's

+another, eh?"

+

+"I'd rather not talk about it, if you please," answered Jack coldly.

+

+"Oh, all right! I beg pardon." Joe felt somewhat huffed. His sympathy

+for the other was for the moment snuffed out. Jack moved toward the

+door.

+

+"By the way," said Joe, in business-like tones, "I think you told me

+you'd played ball some. Where was it?"

+

+"At home, on the high-school team. I played three years."

+

+"What position?"

+

+"I pitched the last year. Before that I played in the outfield,

+generally at right."

+

+"I see." Joe's hopes of the other's usefulness dwindled. He had seen

+a good many cases of ambitious freshmen whose belief in themselves

+as pitchers was not justified by subsequent events. Every year there

+reported for practise a dozen or so of hopeful youngsters, who firmly

+believed themselves capable of filling all such important positions

+as pitcher and catcher, merely on the strength of having played such

+positions with more or less success on some fourth- or fifth-rate team.

+Joe mentally assigned Jack to this class of deluded ones.

+

+"Well," he said, "of course you may count on having a fair trying-out,

+but I wouldn't hope for too much. You see, a fellow has to be something

+of an expert to get in the box here; it's different from playing on

+a high-school team. Besides, we're rather well fixed for pitchers:

+there's Gilberth and King and Knox, all of whom are first-class men.

+Of course, we want new material wherever we can find it, and if you

+prove that you can pitch good ball we'll give you all the chance

+you want. But if I were you I'd try for something else this spring,

+for some position in the field. We're long on pitchers and short on

+out-fielders. Of course, you could keep your hand in at twirling;

+there'd be plenty of opportunity for that at practise."

+

+"I'll take whatever I can get," answered Jack. "I don't lay any claim

+to being a wonder at pitching. I was the best we had in Auburn, but, of

+course, that doesn't mean very much."

+

+"Auburn, Maine? Do you live there?"

+

+"Two miles outside of town."

+

+"Is that so? Maybe you know a cousin of mine there, Billy Cromwell? His

+father has a big tannery. He graduated from here three years ago this

+coming spring."

+

+"I know him quite well," replied Jack, smiling for the first time since

+he had entered the study. "It was Billy who persuaded me to come here.

+He used to tell me about Erskine a good deal. Of course, he's seven or

+eight years older than I am, but he was always very nice to me."

+

+"Think of that!" said Joe. "The idea of you being a friend of Billy's!

+He's fine chap, is Billy. What's he doing now?"

+

+"Why, he's assistant superintendent. Every one likes him very much, and

+he's awfully smart, I guess. Well, I'll report again to-morrow. I'm

+glad I saw you, and--thank you."

+

+"Of course you'll report. And if I can help you at any time, just let

+me know." He opened the door and Jack passed out. "See you to-morrow,

+Weatherby."

+

+"Yes. Good afternoon."

+

+When Jack reached the head of the stairs he heard Joe's voice again and

+paused.

+

+"I say, Weatherby," the baseball captain was calling, "come around and

+see me sometimes. I want to hear more about Billy."

+

+"Thank you," was the non-committal reply.

+

+Joe closed the door, took up a Greek book, and went back to the

+window-seat. When he had found his place he looked at it frowningly a

+moment. "'Thank you,' says he," he muttered. "As much as to say, 'I'm

+hanged if I do!' That youngster is a puzzle; worse than this chump,

+Pausanias!"

+

+The warm spell of Thursday and Friday had been succeeded by a drop

+in temperature that had converted the pools into sheets of ice. The

+board-walks and the paths still made treacherous going, and when, after

+leaving Sessons Hall, in which Joe Perkins roomed, Jack had several

+times narrowly avoided breaking his neck, he left the paths and struck

+off across the glistening snow toward the lower end of the yard. It was

+almost dusk, and a cold, nipping wind from the north made him turn up

+the collar of his jacket and walk briskly. There were but few fellows

+in sight, and he was glad of it. To be sure, by this time he should

+have been inured to the silently expressed contempt which he met on

+every side, to the barely audible whispers that greeted his appearance

+at class, to the meaning smiles which he often intercepted as they

+passed from one neighbor to another. Yet despite that he was schooling

+himself to bear all these things calmly, and with no outward sign of

+the sting they inflicted, he was not yet quite master of himself, and

+was grateful that the coming darkness and the well-nigh empty yard

+promised him present surcease from his trials.

+

+Until he had entered Joe Perkins's study a quarter of an hour before

+he had met with no voicing of the public contempt. He had managed to

+accept Tracy Gilberth's veiled insult with unmoved countenance, yet it

+had required the greatest effort of any. He didn't know who that man

+was; he only knew, from observation in the practise-cage, that he was

+the foremost candidate for the position of pitcher, and so must be, in

+view of Perkins's remark, either Gilberth or King or Knox. Whoever he

+was, Jack vowed, some day he would be made to regret his words. For

+although Jack was accepting his fate in silence, he was very human, and

+meant, sooner or later, to even all scores.

+

+When he had almost reached College Place and had taken to the

+board-walk again, footsteps crunching the frosty planks ahead of him

+brought his mind suddenly away from thoughts of revenge. He looked up

+and saw that the man who approached and in another moment would pass

+him was Professor White. Jack stepped off the boards and went on with

+averted eyes. The professor recognized him at that instant, and as they

+came abreast spoke.

+

+"Good evening, Weatherby."

+

+There was no answer, nor did Jack turn his head. The professor frowned

+and stopped.

+

+"Weatherby!" he called sharply. Jack paused and faced him.

+

+"Well, sir?" he asked, quietly.

+

+"What does this mean? Are you trying to add boorishness to--to your

+other failings?"

+

+"No, sir, I was only trying to spare you the unpleasantness of speaking

+to a coward."

+

+"Very thoughtful of you," said the other, sarcastically. "But allow

+me to tell you, sir, that if you want to remove the--ah--the sorry

+impression you have made you will have to adopt a less high-and-mighty

+manner."

+

+"It's a matter of indifference to me what impression you hold, sir,"

+replied Jack simply. "Good night."

+

+The professor stood motionless and looked after the boy until he had

+crossed the street, the anger in his face slowly fading before a

+grudging admiration of the other's clever, if extremely impolite,

+retort. Presently he swung his green bag of books under his arm again

+and trudged on.

+

+"I wonder if I wasn't too hasty the other day," he muttered. "For a

+coward he's got a surprising amount of grit, apparently. He'll bear

+watching."

+

+Jack sped homeward, feeling rather pleased with himself. His score

+with the professor wasn't by any means even, but the encounter had put

+something to his credit, and as he remembered the professor's look of

+amazement and anger he chuckled.

+

+There was a light in Tidball's room as he crossed the corner of the

+Common, and as he looked a grotesque head showed in gigantic silhouette

+against the yellow curtain. Jack ran up the stairs and knocked at his

+neighbor's door.

+

+"Come in!" drawled the occupant of the western chamber, and Jack

+entered on a scene that caused him to pause just inside the door and

+stare in silent surprise.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VI

+

+IN DISGRACE

+

+

+Anthony Tidball confronted Jack with a pewter spoon in one hand and a

+small tin coffee-pot in the other. He was in his shirt-sleeves and a

+bath-towel was fastened around his neck, descending in wispy folds to

+his knees. On one end of the study table a second towel was laid, and

+upon it rested a plate of bread, a jar of preserves, a wedge of cheese,

+a can of condensed milk, a bowl of sugar, and cellars containing salt

+and pepper. Besides these Jack saw a plate appropriately surrounded by

+knife, fork, and spoon, and flanked by a cup and saucer. There was a

+perceptible, and not ungrateful, odor of cooking present. Anthony waved

+the coffee-pot hospitably, but carefully, toward the rocking-chair.

+

+[Illustration: Anthony waved the coffee-pot hospitably.]

+

+"Hello, Weatherby," he said. "Sit down."

+

+"Wha--what are you doing?" gasped Jack.

+

+"Cooking supper. Have some? You're just in time." He took the towel

+from his neck and, going to the gas-stove, used it to remove a

+pie-plate from above a tiny frying-pan.

+

+"Supper?" echoed Jack. "Do you mean that you--cook your own meals?"

+

+"Yes," responded Anthony, calmly. He approached the table with the pan,

+and from it dexterously transferred six small sausages on to the empty

+plate. Then he put a spoonful of milk and two spoonsful of sugar into

+the bottom of the cup and filled it to the brim with steaming and very

+fragrant coffee. "Yes, I've been my own chef," he continued, "ever

+since I came here. When Gooch and I were together it was a good deal

+simpler. I got breakfast and he got supper; our lunches were just cold

+things. You see, Weatherby, we're poor folks, and I couldn't stay in

+college three months if I had to pay four dollars a week for meals. As

+it is, it's a close haul sometimes."

+

+"Everything looks very nice," murmured Jack, taking the chair and

+observing the proceedings with frank curiosity.

+

+"Well, if you don't object, I'll just begin operations while things are

+hot," said Anthony. He tucked a corner of the bath-towel under his chin

+and began his repast. "There's nothing sinful in poverty, they say,

+and of course they're right; but it's pretty hard sometimes not to be

+ashamed of it. I don't tell every one that I cook my meals in my room.

+It wouldn't do. But you were certain to find it out sooner or later,

+and it might as well be sooner. I say, would you mind turning off the

+gas over there? Thanks."

+

+"Do you mean that you can save money this way?" asked Jack as he sat

+down again.

+

+"You better believe it. When Gooch and I kept house together our food

+cost us about one dollar and five cents apiece every week. I guess now

+it'll cost me nearer two dollars."

+

+"But even then you're saving two dollars by not going to a

+boarding-house," said Jack reassuringly.

+

+"Yes, I know," replied Anthony, as he started on his second sausage,

+"but four dollars a week is my limit. And I'm paying more for this room

+than I did for my half of the other one. I guess I'll have to retrench

+a while. Dad pays my tuition and I look after the rest myself. I earn

+enough in the summer taking out fishing parties and the like of that to

+last me. Last summer was a poor season, though; fish wouldn't bite and

+folks wouldn't go out with me. However, I got a scholarship, and that

+helped some. But I'm sailing a good deal nearer the wind than I did

+last year. And next week I've got to go over to Robinson, and I guess

+that will just about bankrupt me for a while."

+

+"What are you going there for?" Jack inquired.

+

+"Debate."

+

+"Of course!" cried the other. "I remember now! I couldn't think where

+I'd heard your name. Why, you're the president of the Lyceum, aren't

+you? and the crack debater? The fellow who won for Erskine last year

+when every one expected to be beaten?"

+

+"Well, something of that sort," replied the junior. "Anyhow, I've got

+to go to Robinson next week. If we're defeated after I've gone and paid

+five dollars and eighty cents in railroad fares----!"

+

+Words failed him and he finished the last of the sausages with a woful

+shake of his head.

+

+"What are our chances?" asked Jack.

+

+"About the same as last year, I guess. We may and we mayn't. Robinson's

+got a fellow, named Heath, this year that's a wonder, they say. We've

+lost Browning and Soule, and that leaves us sort of weak."

+

+"I'd like to go," said Jack, "but I don't believe I could afford it."

+

+"Wish you could," Anthony responded heartily. "We need all the support

+we can get. If it was a football game, now, I guess the whole college

+would go along. As it is, I suppose we'll have about two dozen beside

+the speakers. Did you ever try condensed milk with raspberry jam?"

+

+Jack had to acknowledge that he never had.

+

+"It's right good," said Anthony, spreading a generous spoonful of the

+mixture on a slice of bread. "If you kind of shut your eyes and don't

+think about it the condensed milk tastes like thick cream."

+

+Jack watched in silence a moment. Then--

+

+"I took your advice," he announced.

+

+"Saw Perkins, you mean? What did he say?"

+

+"Said it was all right; said he was glad to have me."

+

+"That's good."

+

+"And I met Professor White in the yard."

+

+"What happened?" asked Anthony, turning his lean, spectacled face

+toward the other in evident interest. Jack recounted the conversation

+and Anthony grinned.

+

+"Pretty cheeky, though, weren't you?"

+

+"I suppose I was," Jack acknowledged. "But I don't care; he had no

+business saying I was boorish. He--he's a cad!"

+

+"Easy there! Don't call names, Weatherby; it's a mean way to fight.

+White's not as bad as he seems to you. He's made a mistake and when he

+discovers the fact he'll be the first to acknowledge it. You'll see."

+

+Anthony produced his brier pipe and began to smoke.

+

+"Bother you much to-day, did they?" he asked.

+

+"Some. I can stand it, I suppose."

+

+"They'll get tired pretty soon and forget it," said the other kindly.

+"Keep your hand on the tiller, take a couple of reefs in your temper,

+and watch out. There's your supper bell."

+

+"Yes, I must wash up. Are you going to be busy to-night?"

+

+"Not to hurt. Come in and bring your knitting."

+

+"I will," said Jack gratefully.

+

+The growing friendship with the new lodger was the one bright feature

+in Jack's existence at this time, and during the next few weeks he

+frequently found himself viewing with something that was almost

+equanimity the occurrence at the river and its results, since among

+the latter was his acquaintance with Anthony Tidball. Anthony had

+hosts of acquaintances, but few friends; friends, he declared, were

+too expensive. But he adopted Jack during the first week of their

+acquaintance, and at once became guardian, mentor, and big brother all

+rolled into one. Jack went to him with his troubles--and he had a good

+many in those days--and listened to his advice, and generally acted

+upon it. It was a new and delightful experience to the younger boy to

+have a chum, and he made the most of it, resorting to Anthony's room

+whenever he wanted society, and interrupting the junior's studying in

+a way that would have summoned a remonstrance from any one save the

+good-hearted victim. Anthony always laid aside his books and pens,

+filled his pipe, took one foot into his lap, and listened or talked

+with unfailing good nature. And after Jack had taken himself off,

+Anthony would discard his pipe and buckle down to work in a mighty

+effort to make up for lost time, not infrequently sitting with the

+gas-stove between his knees long after the village clock had struck

+twelve, and every one else in the house was fast asleep.

+

+Sometimes they took walks together, for both were fond of being

+outdoors, and it became a common thing to see the tall, awkward junior

+striding alongside the freshman and leaning down near-sightedly to

+catch his words. For a while the college world wondered and exclaimed.

+Tidball was a person of vast importance, a queer, quiet, serious sort

+of fellow, but a master at study and debate, a man whose counsels were

+asked for and hearkened to with deep respect, and in general opinion

+a person who would be heard from in no uncertain way in the future.

+Hence, when the college saw that Tidball had taken up Weatherby, the

+college began to suspect that it had very possibly been overhasty

+in its judgment of the latter youth. Indications of this began to be

+apparent even to Jack; fellows were less uneasy when lack of other

+seats made it necessary for them to sit beside him at Chapel or at

+recitations; several times he was greeted by name, rather shamefacedly

+to be sure, by members of his own class; and baseball practise became

+less of an ordeal for him, since the candidates generally showed a

+disposition to recognize his existence and speak him fair. But if

+these condescending ones looked for evidences of gratitude from Jack

+they were doomed to disappointment. He returned greetings politely but

+without cordiality, and made not the least move toward grasping the

+hand of fellowship so hesitatingly and doubtingly advanced.

+

+"If I was not good enough to associate with before," he told himself,

+"I'm no better now, merely because one man of prominence walks across

+the yard with me."

+

+He had never accepted Joe Perkins's invitation to call. He was grateful

+to the captain for the friendliness the latter had shown him, and

+continued to show him on every occasion. But Perkins believed him a

+coward, just as the others did. Joe repeated his invitation twice and

+then gave it up. Yet the more he saw of Jack the more he was inclined

+to doubt the fairness of the general verdict, and so, in spite of

+duties that took up practically every minute of his waking hours,

+he found time to write a letter to his cousin, Billy Cromwell, in

+Auburn. Eventually he received a reply. There were eight sheets of it

+altogether, as was natural, considering that Billy hadn't written to

+Joe previously for something over six months, but only a small portion

+of the epistle is of interest here.

+

+"I know Jack Weatherby very well [Billy wrote]. His folks and mine are

+old acquaintances. His father has a farm near here, but never has done

+very well with it, I believe. You know what some of our farms hereabout

+are; the Weatherby place is like them, only more so. Jack's a smart,

+plucky youngster; a good sort all through. If you can help him along

+you'll be doing me a favor. And I think you'll like him if you know

+him better. And if you can get him on to the nine you'll be doing well

+for the nine, I promise you. Jack's one of those dependable chaps that

+you meet about once in a thousand years; if he says he'll knock out a

+two-bagger, he'll do it. And he isn't afraid of work or anything else.

+That's about all, I think. You said you wanted to know all I could tell

+you about Jack, and I think I've told it. Remember me to him when you

+see him."

+

+Joe folded the letter and put it back in the envelope.

+

+"I never knew Billy to get taken in by any one yet," he said to

+himself, "and so I fancy we've sized up young Weatherby all wrong. I'll

+have another talk with him. Only--how to get hold of him?"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VII

+

+AT THE BATTING NETS

+

+

+Meanwhile Erskine had won a victory over Robinson, a victory which did

+not, perhaps, occasion as much enthusiasm as would have a triumph on

+the gridiron or the diamond, but which, nevertheless, pleased everybody

+greatly, and added new laurels to the wreath, encircling the brow of

+Anthony Zeno Tidball. Erskine won the debate. The result was never in

+doubt after Anthony delivered his argument, and when the last word

+had been said the judges did not even leave their seats, but, after a

+moment of whispered conference, awarded the victory to the visitors.

+

+The debaters and their small company of supporters did not return to

+Centerport until noon the next day, and long before that the morning

+papers had arrived and the college at large had proudly read their

+account of the contest. That explains why when Anthony, attired in a

+long, yellowish plaid ulster of great antiquity, and carrying his

+nightgown and toothbrush wrapped in a piece of brown paper, lurched

+from the train to the station platform and looked about him, his jaw

+dropped in ludicrous dismay, and he made a hurried effort to retreat.

+But his companions were crowding down behind him and he was forced

+forward into the ungentle hands of the cheering students, who filled

+the platform. Somehow, he never knew quite how, he was thrust and

+lifted to a baggage truck, from which, since his legs were securely

+pinioned by several enthusiastic jailers, he found it impossible

+to make his escape. So he hugged his bundle desperately and beamed

+good-humoredly about him, recognizing the advisability of making the

+best of things. The other debaters were hustled to his side in a wild

+medley of cheers, and then, clutching each other madly in an effort

+to maintain their balance, they were wheeled up and down the long

+platform in the vortex of a swirling throng and cheered to the echo,

+individually and collectively. For his part, Anthony was filled with a

+great relief when the train with its long line of grinning faces at the

+windows drew away, and with a greater relief when one of the occupants

+of the truck, losing his hold, tumbled between the framework, and so

+brought the triumphal procession to an end.

+

+The prey were allowed to escape, and Anthony drew his long ulster

+about his thin shanks and scuttled ungracefully into Town Lane and so

+out of the rabble of still cheering students. But he hadn't escaped

+Jack, for that youth, somewhat out of breath, overtook him before he

+had reached the corner and showered fragmentary congratulations upon

+him.

+

+"I got up--almost before--light," panted Jack, bravely trying to

+keep up with Anthony's long strides, "and went--down and--got

+a--paper--and--read--read-- Oh, don't go so fast, please!"

+

+Anthony moderated his pace and put an arm affectionately over the

+other's shoulders.

+

+"Did you?" he asked. "Well, now, that was real friendly."

+

+"And when I--saw--that you'd won--I danced a jig in--the--middle of

+Main Street!"

+

+"And haven't got your breath back yet?" laughed Anthony.

+

+"But--aren't you glad?" asked Jack.

+

+"I should say so," answered the other. "So tickled that I don't mind

+the money it cost."

+

+Another event, important to a large part of the college, took place

+a day or two later. March, which had raged in with a big snow-storm,

+relented and attempted the role of April. The ground dried and became

+firm and springy and little warm breezes almost induced one to believe

+that he had somehow lost track of the months and had torn one too few

+leaves from his calendar. Erskine Field, given over during the winter

+to snow and winds, clothed itself in a new green livery and suddenly

+became the Mecca for more than half the college. One Thursday morning

+the following welcome notice hung in the window of Butler's bookstore:

+

+    UNIVERSITY BASEBALL.--Outdoor practise on the Field at 4 sharp.

+    Candidates must bring their own togs.

+

+Jack went out to the field early and, having got into his baseball

+clothes, threw his white sweater over his back, and sat down on

+the steps of the locker-house in the sunshine. Many fellows passed

+him, going in and out of the building, some according him a word of

+greeting, others a mere nod, while still others pretended not to

+see him. But Jack was beyond slights to-day. The spring was in his

+blood and he would have liked to throw himself down on the grass and

+roll over like a colt for mere joy of living. Instead, he only beat

+a restless tattoo with his heels and watched the passers. Presently

+the varsity squad trotted out; King, who played left field and

+was substitute pitcher; Billings, third-baseman; "Wally" Stiles,

+second-baseman; Knox, last year's shortstop and substitute pitcher;

+"Teddy" Motter, crack first-baseman; Lowe, center-fielder, and several

+more, with Gilberth emerging last of all in talk with Joe Perkins.

+

+Jack watched Gilberth as he went by, much as a cat watches a mouse

+beyond its present reach. He had a score to even with Tracy Gilberth,

+and he was convinced that in good time the opportunity would come to

+him to even it. Meanwhile he waited patiently, observing Gilberth like

+a calm, inscrutable Fate. Gilberth had a firm grasp on the pitcher's

+place, while Jack was only one of the second squad, and so, of late,

+their paths seldom crossed, and the senior had had no chance to give

+expression to his sentiments regarding the freshman. Of this Jack

+was glad, since Gilberth's contemptuous glances roused his hatred as

+nothing else could.

+

+The varsity squad took possession of the diamond and began practising.

+Presently Bissell, the varsity center-fielder, made his appearance and

+took the second squad in charge. Bissell was out of the game for the

+while with a sprained ankle, and Hanson, the head coach, had placed

+the second squad under his wing. There were sixteen of them in all,

+for the most part upper classmen who had failed to make the varsity

+the year before, with a sprinkling of sophomores and two freshmen.

+The freshmen were Jack and a small, wiry chap, named Clover, who was

+trying for shortstop. Bissell led the way to the batting nets and soon

+they were hard at work. A third squad, made up of some twenty more or

+less hopeless candidates, many of them freshmen who would later form

+the nucleus of their class nine, were occupying an improvised diamond

+at the farther end of the football field. The scene was animated and

+interesting. The sharp crack of bat meeting ball, the shrill cries of

+the coachers, and the low thud of flying spheres against padded gloves

+filled the air.

+

+Jack had just finished his first turn at bat by sending a hot grounder

+across the grass, and had taken his place at the end of the line again

+when he heard an authoritative voice addressing Bissell, and looked

+around to find the head coach standing by.

+

+"Haven't you got a man who can pitch better than that, Bissell?" asked

+the coach.

+

+Bissell surveyed the candidates doubtfully and the man who was

+pitching, quailing under the disapproving eye of the coach, threw his

+next ball over the batsman's head and so completed his disgrace. The

+head coach was a small man, small in stature and small of limb and

+feature, but possessed of a shrewd and sharp brown eye that was the

+terror of shirking candidates. He was unmistakably good-looking, was

+Hanson--his full name was Alfred Ward Hanson--and had the faculty

+of commanding instant respect, rather a difficult feat for a small

+man. He was aided there, however, by a reputation for wonderful

+playing; nothing commands the respect and allegiance of the soldier

+or the athlete as does past prowess, and an army officer or college

+coach whose history contains valorous deeds is seldom troubled with

+insubordination or discouraged by half-heartedness in the ranks. Hanson

+was liked, respected, admired, and--feared.

+

+"You must have somebody here that's able to pitch a straight ball,"

+continued the coach.

+

+"There ought to be," replied Bissell. "How about it, you fellows? Can

+any of you pitch?"

+

+There was a moment's silence. Undoubtedly several of them could, but

+with Hanson's dissatisfied gaze upon them they hesitated to make known

+their accomplishment. It was Jack who spoke first.

+

+"I can pitch some," he said, in matter-of-fact tones, stepping out of

+the line. "I'll try, if you like."

+

+"Go ahead then," said Hanson. "It isn't necessary to pitch curves; just

+get an occasional ball over the plate."

+

+The head coach went over to the other net and Jack took the place of

+the retired pitcher. He hadn't tried pitching since the summer and his

+first ball went very wide. The line of waiting batsmen grinned; some

+even laughed audibly.

+

+"That's a great deal better," remarked one of them with fine sarcasm,

+and the laugh became general.

+

+"That'll do, Showell," exclaimed Bissell. "We don't need your opinion."

+Showell, a junior, and the fellow whom Jack had ousted, grinned

+sheepishly under the amused glances of the others and Jack settled

+down to business. After a few poor balls he got his hand in again and

+Bissell nodded approvingly. One after another the candidates took their

+places in front of the net and stayed there until they had made clean

+hits. Jack did not attempt to puzzle them, for at this time of year,

+despite the practise in the cage, batting work was still pretty poor.

+He delivered straight balls as slow as possible and the line moved

+along quickly. When Showell took his place, however, Jack remembered

+his sarcastic remark and resolved to make the former pitcher earn his

+hit. He attempted no curves or drops, but sent the first ball very

+straight over the square of wood that did duty as a plate. But if it

+was straight it was also swift, so swift that Showell merely looked at

+it go by and then glanced inquiringly at Jack as he tossed it back to

+him.

+

+He gripped his bat afresh then, and waited the next ball confidently.

+It came, and was, if anything, swifter than the one before. Showell

+struck at it hard, but was half a foot too late. The watchers began to

+guess what was up and looked on interestedly.

+

+"Shorten your swing, Showell," directed Bissell. "You were way too late

+then."

+

+Showell's face took on a deep red and he gritted his teeth as Jack

+slowly and calmly threw up his arms for the next delivery. Again the

+ball came straight and fast over the plate and this time Showell struck

+an instant too soon and the sphere glanced up off his bat, bounded

+against the hood of the net, and came down on his head ere he could

+duck. He picked it out of the dust and tossed it back with no pleasant

+expression. The line was grinning appreciatingly by this time, but

+Jack's face showed neither amusement nor interest. Again Showell struck

+and missed miserably.

+

+"What are you pitching, Weatherby?" Bissell asked suspiciously.

+

+"Just straight balls," answered Jack, simulating surprise.

+

+"Well, now look here, Showell," said the acting coach, "do try and

+remember what you've been taught. Give me the bat." Bissell took the

+other's place. "Don't stand as though you were going to run away. Face

+the plate; if you're hit you've got your base. Now, watch me. All

+right, Weatherby."

+

+Jack sent him a fairly fast ball, and Bissell took it neatly on the end

+of his stick and sent it sailing in a short flight toward right field.

+

+"You see, Showell? Swing back easily and don't try to slug the ball. If

+you swing hard you miss your balance nine times out of ten. Bring the

+bat around easily on a line with the ball, hold it firmly and you've

+got your hit. Try it again, please."

+

+Showell did try it again and struck a palpable foul. Once more he tried

+and missed entirely. By this time he was as mad as a hatter.

+

+"I can't hit them unless he sends them over the plate," he growled,

+eying Jack aggressively.

+

+"You need to learn how to bat," said a voice behind him. "I guess it

+would do you good to have a term with the third squad."

+

+He looked around into the face of Hanson, who unnoticed, had been

+watching his work for several minutes. He subsided and again faced the

+pitcher. But Jack had no desire to bring about Showell's removal to

+the third squad, and so sent him a slow ball that he could not help

+hitting. When Showell had yielded his bat to the next man and stepped

+away Hanson turned to Bissell.

+

+"Who's that fellow?" he asked.

+

+"Showell, a junior."

+

+"Junior? No, no; I mean the youngster that's pitching."

+

+"Oh, that's Weatherby, a freshman."

+

+"Weatherby? Oh, yes." He watched Jack send in a couple more balls and

+then turned to Bissell again. "You'd better let him keep on pitching,"

+he said. "Seems to me he's rather promising. What do you think?"

+

+"I've never seen him pitch until to-day," answered Bissell. "But he

+seems to be able to send in good, clean, straight balls. I don't

+suppose he knows much about anything else, though."

+

+"Well, keep your eye on him," said Hanson. "Can't have too many

+pitchers, and that chap looks as though he might learn."

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER VIII

+

+THE LAST STRAW

+

+

+Jack marked the first of April a red-letter day in his memory, for on

+that day he was taken on to the varsity nine as substitute. The fact

+was made known to him after practise when, with the others, he was

+dressing himself in the locker-house. The head coach appeared in their

+midst with a slip of paper and Jack listened indifferently until he

+heard his name spoken. Even then the absurd idea came to him that it

+was an April fool.

+

+"Just a moment, please," said Hanson; and when the hubbub had suddenly

+ceased, "the training-table will start in the morning at Pearson's,"

+he announced, "and the following men will report there for breakfast:

+King, Knox, Gilberth, Billings, Stiles, Motter, Bissell, Lowe, Northup,

+Smith, Griffin, Mears, and Weatherby. Later, about the middle of the

+month, more men will be taken on. At present these are all we can

+accommodate. Breakfast is at eight prompt, and we want every man to be

+there on time. That's all."

+

+After he had gone out those of the fellows remaining began an

+interested discussion of the announcement. Jack, pulling on his shoes,

+listened silently.

+

+"Where were you, Jimmie?" asked King.

+

+"I'm one of the 'also-rans,' I guess," answered Riseman, a substitute

+fielder, sadly.

+

+"Beaten by a freshie," called a fellow across the room. "Fie, fie, for

+shame!"

+

+"Who's the freshie?" called some one else.

+

+"Weatherby," answered two or three voices. "Weatherby, the brave!"

+added another. An admonitory "S--s--s--sh!" arose from Jack's vicinity,

+and King whispered around the corner of the next alley: "Shut up,

+you fellows; he's over here." And then another voice, one which Jack

+instantly recognized as Gilberth's, drowned King's warning.

+

+"Do you suppose Hanson expects us to sit at the same table with that

+bounder?" he asked loudly.

+

+Jack's face paled, and he bent his head quickly over the shoe he was

+lacing. "He knows I'm here," he told himself grimly, "and pretends he

+doesn't. If he says 'Coward,' I'll--I'll--" A lace broke in his hand.

+King suddenly began talking very loudly to Riseman about the baseball

+news from Robinson, but above that Jack heard Gilberth's voice again:

+

+"I'd be afraid he'd put poison in my coffee. A fellow that'll stand

+by and see a person drown before his eyes without making a move at

+helping him might do anything. For my part-- What? Who is?" There was

+an instant's pause. Then, "Well," continued the speaker in slightly

+lowered tones, "there's an old proverb about listeners--" The rest

+trailed off into silence.

+

+King was still talking volubly and seemingly at random. In spite of

+his almost overmastering anger, Jack recognized King's good-hearted

+attempt to spare him pain, and was grateful. His hands trembled so

+that he could scarcely tie his broken string, and the tears were very

+near the surface; he had to gulp hard once or twice to keep them back.

+The temptation to kick off the unlaced shoe, dash recklessly around

+the corner, and knock Gilberth down, to fight him until he could no

+longer stand, was strong. He kept his head bent and his blazing eyes

+on the floor and fought down the impulse. He had promised Anthony to

+keep silence; to lose command of himself now would be to waste all

+those weeks of self-repression which, he believed, and was right in

+believing, had made a favorable impression upon his fellows. He tried

+to think of other things, of his luck in being taken on to the varsity,

+of how pleased Anthony would be at hearing about it. Presently he

+finished lacing his shoes, stood up and calmly donned his coat. Then,

+in spite of himself, he hesitated.

+

+The thought of passing through the locker-room under the staring,

+antagonistic eyes of a score or so of men, of running the gantlet of

+whispers and low laughter, for the moment appalled him. Then, as he

+slowly buttoned the last button, he heard a voice at his side.

+

+"Ready, Weatherby? If you don't mind, I'll walk back with you."

+

+He looked around into the pleasant face of King and, after a moment of

+surprise, muttered assent. The central aisle was filled with fellows

+in various stages of attire and the two had to worm their way through.

+Jack went first, doing his level best to look unconcerned and at ease,

+and King followed close behind him, talking over his shoulder all

+the way. At the door King stepped ahead and threw open the portal,

+guiding Jack through with a friendly push on the back. When they had

+disappeared, one or two witnesses of the affair exchanged surprised or

+amused glances. But only Gilberth commented aloud.

+

+"Very touching!" he laughed. "King to the rescue of Insulted Innocence!"

+

+"Oh, forget it!" growled some one from the depths of a twilit alley.

+

+Outside, on the porch, Jack turned to King with reddened cheeks. "Thank

+you," he said.

+

+"All right," answered the other carelessly. "Fair play, you know."

+

+Jack hesitated, waiting for the other to take his departure. King

+looked at him quizzically.

+

+"Look here, Weatherby, don't be so beastly snobbish," he expostulated

+with a touch of impatience. "If you object to my company back to the

+Yard, just say so, but don't look as though I was too low down to

+associate with."

+

+Jack colored and looked distressed.

+

+"I didn't mean to, honestly!" he protested. "Of course, I don't object

+to your company. I--I only thought----"

+

+"Well, come on, then." They went down the steps together, just as the

+door opened to emit a handful of players. "Don't get it into your head,

+Weatherby, that we're all cads," King continued, "just because Gilberth

+occasionally acts like one. The fact is, there are plenty of fellows

+back there who are quite ready to be decent if you'll give them half a

+chance. The trouble is, though, you look as though you didn't care a

+continental for anybody. Perhaps you don't; but it isn't flattering,

+you see. I dare say it sounds pretty cheeky for me to talk like this to

+you, especially as we've never been properly introduced and haven't

+spoken before, but I've been here a year longer than you have, and I

+know how easy it is to make mistakes. And it seems to me you're making

+one."

+

+"I don't think you're cheeky," answered Jack quite humbly. "I don't

+mean to have folks think I'm--think I'm indifferent, either."

+

+"That's all right, then," replied King heartily. "They say you're

+coming out as a pitcher," he went on, changing the subject, to Jack's

+relief. "Bissell was telling me to-day."

+

+"I've been pitching some on the second nine," answered Jack.

+

+"Where did you play before you came to college?" asked the other. Jack

+told him about the high-school nine at Auburn, and the rest of the

+way back the talk remained on baseball matters. He parted from his

+new acquaintance at the corner of the Yard, and went on alone through

+a soft, spring-like twilight to his room. He had gained one more of

+the enemy to his side, he reflected, and that alone was a good day's

+work. But besides that he had been taken on to the varsity squad, and

+altogether the day was a memorable one. He climbed the stairs happily,

+the sting of the incident in the locker-house no longer felt.

+

+Anthony was quite as pleased with his news as Jack had expected him to

+be, and the two sat together until late that evening discussing the

+unexpected stroke of fortune.

+

+"Wouldn't be surprised if they let you play in Saturday's game," said

+Anthony. Jack laughed ruefully.

+

+"I should," he answered. "But it's something to sit on the varsity

+bench."

+

+The next morning Jack dressed himself under mild excitement at the

+thought of making his appearance at the training-table. He had notified

+Mrs. Dorlon the evening before of his departure from her hospitable

+board and that lady had sniffed disappointedly at the notion of losing

+her only boarder. But Jack had no regrets for the separation. Pearson's

+was only about a block from Mrs. Dorlon's, but, nevertheless, Jack

+reached there several minutes late. The baseball players had been given

+the big dining-room on the front of the house in which last fall's

+successful football team, winner of the remarkable 2--0 game with

+Robinson, had eaten their way to glory.

+

+When Jack entered, the table at first glance appeared to be filled.

+The next moment he saw that there were three empty seats, two at the

+farther end of the table and one near at hand, between Gilberth and

+Northup. He reflected that it might look cheeky to parade the length

+of the room, and so, returning the nods of several of the fellows,

+he slipped into the chair beside Gilberth, fervently hoping that the

+latter would take no notice of him. Gilberth was busily recounting

+an adventure which had befallen him the day before while out in his

+automobile--he was the proud possessor of the only motor vehicle in the

+town of Centerport--and it is probable that he did not observe Jack's

+entrance.

+

+"It was just at that narrow stretch before you get to the blacksmith's

+shop," he was saying. "The fellow had a load of bricks. Well, he

+stopped, and I stopped, and we looked at each other. Finally, he called

+out, 'Say, you'll have to back to the corner, I guess. We can't pass

+here.' 'Back nothing,' I said. 'These things aren't taught to back.'

+'They ain't?' said he. 'But you don't expect that I'm going to back

+with this load on, do you?' 'It's a good deal to expect,' I answered,

+looking sorry, 'but if you don't, we're likely to stay here until

+Christmas.' You'd ought to have heard him swear! It was as good as a

+circus! Well----"

+

+"How are you, Weatherby?" asked Joe Perkins at that moment.

+

+As Jack replied, Gilberth turned and saw him. Stopping short in his

+narrative, he silently gathered up his plate, cup, and saucer, and

+pushing back his chair, arose and walked around the table to one of the

+other empty seats. The talk died out abruptly, and the fellows watched

+the proceedings in dead silence. Gilberth's action had taken Jack

+completely by surprise, and for a moment he could only stare amazedly.

+Then, as the full force of the insult struck him, the color flooded his

+cheeks until they burned like fire. His eyes, avoiding the faces across

+the board, fell upon the sympathetic countenance of the captain, and it

+was the look of concern he found there that upset him. The tears rushed

+into his eyes and the hand on the table trembled. He put it in his

+lap, where it clenched its fellow desperately, and stared miserably at

+the white cloth. Suddenly upon the uncomfortable silence a voice broke

+calmly. Gilberth, having settled himself in his new seat, was going on

+with his story, just as though there had been no interruption.

+

+"After he'd called me everything he could think of," he continued, "he

+got down and started to back. It took him ten minutes to get to the

+blacksmith shop, and maybe he wasn't mad! After I got by him, I gave

+him a little exhibition, free of charge. I backed the machine all over

+the place, and pretty nearly stood it on end. You ought to have seen

+his eyes; they almost popped out of his head. And just when he was

+beginning to recover his voice, I waved good-by to him, and lit out.

+Funniest thing you ever saw!"

+

+One or two of his audience laughed half-heartedly, but the most looked

+gravely disgusted.

+

+"You have a wonderfully keen sense of humor," observed Joe Perkins

+dryly. Then the conversation began again, and the waitress brought

+Jack's breakfast. He ate it silently, or as much of it as he could; the

+coffee scalded his throat, and the steak very nearly choked him. King,

+sitting near-by, spoke to him once, and he answered. But his voice

+wasn't quite steady, and so the other wisely refrained from further

+attempts at conversation. One by one the fellows left the room, and as

+soon as he dared, Jack followed. He kept his head very high all the way

+back to his room; but in each cheek there was a bright disk of crimson

+and his eyes stared straight ahead. A tramp slouching along, with hands

+in pockets, moved aside to let him pass, but Jack never saw him.

+

+When he had entered the front door, he moved very quietly, mounting the

+stairs as though contemplating burglary. Anthony's door was ajar, and

+Jack tiptoed toward it and looked into the bare and shabby room. It was

+empty, and the fact seemed to relieve him. Crossing to his own room, he

+turned the key in the lock and began feverishly to pack his valise.

+The task did not take him long, and when it was completed, and the bag

+stood beside the door secured and strapped, he went to the desk and,

+seizing a sheet of paper, wrote hurriedly. When the composition was

+finished, he read it through.

+

+    "DEAR FRIEND [it ran]: There's no use trying any more. I

+    thought I could stand it, but I just can't. After what happened

+    this morning, there's only one thing for me to do, and I'm

+    going to do it. I'm very sorry to go away from you, because you

+    have been awfully kind to me, and you are the first one I ever

+    knew who seemed like a chum. But I'm going home, and not coming

+    back any more, because I can't stand every one thinking I'm a

+    coward, and Gilberth treating me like mud. I'm sorry I can't

+    keep my promise to you, if it was really a promise, and please

+    don't think I haven't tried, because I have tried very hard.

+    Please don't remember it against me. I'm very, very sorry.

+    Maybe I will meet you again some time.

+

+    "Your sincere friend,

+

+    "JOHN WEATHERBY.

+

+    "P. S. Please keep this charm to remember me by, if you don't

+    mind. You wear it on your watch-chain. Good-by.           J. W."

+

+He placed the note and the watch-charm in an envelope, sealed and

+addressed it, and crossed with it to Anthony's room. When he returned

+a moment later, he held something concealed in his hand. He unstrapped

+his valise, and as he did so a noise in the hall outside caused him to

+glance nervously at the door. Quickly opening the bag he dropped the

+object he held into it, and again secured it. Going into the hall, he

+listened. All was still. Returning, he took up bag and overcoat and

+cautiously crept down the stairs and out of the house. Fearful of being

+seen, he turned to the left and made his way to the station by Murdoch

+Street and the railroad.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER IX

+

+ANTHONY STUDIES A TIME-TABLE

+

+

+Anthony returned to his room after the first recitation. He had

+discovered while in his class that he had forgotten his watch, and

+remembered that he had left it lying on his study table. The first

+thing that caught his eyes when he entered his room was an envelope

+bearing the inscription in a round, boyish hand, "Anthony Tidball.

+Present." Wondering, he tore it open. Something fell from it and rolled

+to the floor. When found it proved to be a brown Florida bean with a

+little gold-plated swivel at one end. Anthony stared from the bean to

+the envelope; then the thought that the latter probably held a note

+came to him and he went back to it.

+

+He read the note very slowly, a frown deepening the while on his face.

+He read it the second time and then carefully restored it to the

+envelope, thrust his big hands into his trousers pockets and lurched

+to the dormer-window. For a minute or two he stood there looking out

+across the Common into a tender green mist of quickening branches.

+Finally he sighed, shook his head, and turned back to the room.

+

+"Poor kid," he muttered.

+

+But perhaps, he reflected, it was not too late to intercept him.

+When did the trains leave? He pulled out a table drawer and found a

+time-card. There was one at 9.22; that had gone. There was another,

+an express, at 10.16. If Jack had missed the first it was possible,

+thought Anthony, to reach the station in time to bring him back. It was

+now----

+

+He felt for his watch, and for the first time since finding the note

+recollected the reason of his return. He glanced quickly over the

+table. The watch was not in sight. He distinctly remembered placing

+it on the blotting-pad while he changed the rather heavy vest he had

+been wearing all winter for a lighter one. He pushed aside books and

+papers and searched the table from end to end. Then he went through his

+drawers and finally, while realizing the uselessness of it, unlocked

+and searched his trunk. After he had felt in the pockets of what few

+clothes he possessed he accepted the fact that the watch was gone. But

+where? Who could have taken it? Who had been in the room--besides Jack?

+Jack----!

+

+He sat down in the rocker and stared blankly, frowningly, at the

+window. It was the stupidest thing in the world to suspect Jack. And

+yet--! With a mutter of disgust at himself for the entertainment of

+such a wild suspicion, he jumped up and surveyed the room. But the bed

+was still unmade and the momentary hope that Mrs. Dorlon might have

+come across the watch and put it away for him had to be relinquished.

+He hurried down-stairs and found his hostess in the kitchen. No, she

+told him, she hadn't been up-stairs yet and hadn't seen the watch. Had

+any one been up there? Well, she didn't know of any one. Still, the

+door had been open all the morning and-- Why, yes, come to think of it,

+she had thought once that she heard footsteps up-stairs and presumed

+that they were Mr. Weatherby's, though to be sure she hadn't seen him

+come in or go out. Could she help Mr. Tidball look for it?

+

+Anthony politely declined her proffered assistance and returned to

+his room. He searched again about the table, striving to convince

+himself that he had not left the watch there; that he had worn it to

+recitation, that the chain had become detached from his buttonhole

+and that the watch had fallen from his pocket. But it wouldn't do.

+He remembered clearly just how the timepiece had looked lying in its

+chamois case upon the blotter, with the heavy gold chain curling away

+toward the ink-bottle. Perhaps Jack had come in to find out the time

+and had unconsciously taken the watch back to his room with him? Of

+course, that must be it!

+

+He strode across the hall and into the other chamber. There were

+evidences of hurried flight; the little steamer trunk stood in the

+middle of the floor and a few odds and ends of rubbish lay about the

+bed and table. But the watch was not in sight. The latest explanation

+of its disappearance had seemed so plausible that Anthony experienced

+keen disappointment. Turning, he retraced his steps toward the door.

+Half-way there he stopped and stared as though fascinated at something

+lying at his feet. Stooping, he picked it up and looked at it carefully

+in the forlorn hope that it would prove to be other than what it was, a

+little chamois watch-pouch.

+

+Finally he dropped it into his pocket and went back to his room,

+stepping very quietly, as though leaving a chamber of sickness. He

+stared aimlessly about for a moment, and then, with a start, took up

+his note-books and descended the stairs. Mrs. Dorlon, blacking the

+kitchen stove, heard the door open and looked up to see the lean,

+spectacled face of her new lodger peering through. He looked rather

+pale and sickly that morning, she thought.

+

+"Just wanted to tell you that it's all right," he said. "I found my

+watch. It was in the--the washstand."

+

+After he had gone she suddenly paused and sniffed perplexedly. "Now

+that's funny," she thought. "How could he have found it in the

+washstand when the washstand hasn't any drawer nor nothin'?"

+

+At the luncheon-table Jack was conspicuous by his absence. The story of

+Gilberth's action at breakfast had filtered through college in a dozen

+varied forms until by noon it was pretty widely known. The general

+opinion was that Gilberth had acted brutally; there were even some

+few who flatly called his behavior contemptible; there were others,

+fewer still, who thought that he had "given Weatherby just what he

+deserved." There was considerable relief felt by the more charitably

+disposed members of the training-table when Jack failed to appear, for

+his suffering at the breakfast-table had not been a pleasant thing

+to watch. Gilberth, however, was in high feather. He believed Jack's

+absence was a result of his treatment in the morning, and was quite

+proud of his abilities as a public prosecutor. But the rest of the

+table somehow did not appear to be quite so pleased with him. This

+fact was shown by a disposition to avoid entering into conversation

+with him. His remarks were received in silence, and after a while he

+gave up the attempt to entertain the company and finished his meal in

+ruffled dignity.

+

+When luncheon was over "Baldy" Simson, the trainer, who occupied the

+seat at the foot of the board, called Joe Perkins's attention to the

+fact of Jack's absence.

+

+"I know," Joe answered, looking rather worried. "I'm going to look him

+up; you needn't bother. By the way, Tracy, just wait a minute, will

+you? I want to see you." Gilberth, in the act of leaving the room,

+returned and tilting a chair toward him slid into it over the back with

+a fine appearance of unconcern.

+

+"Fire away, Joe," he said. "But I've got a two-o'clock, and it's

+getting late."

+

+Simson went out and left the two together and alone, save for the

+waitress who had begun clearing off the table. Joe pushed his plate

+away and looked gravely across at his friend.

+

+"Look here, Tracy, this thing has simply got to stop, you know."

+

+"What thing?" asked the other, raising his eyebrows.

+

+"Why, you know what I mean. I won't have Weatherby persecuted the way

+you're doing. I can't turn out a decent team unless you fellows get

+together and work in harmony. You know that as well as I do. Whatever

+your sentiments toward Weatherby may be, you've got to treat him

+politely in his position as a member of the varsity nine. I won't have

+any more scenes like the one you brought about this morning. You're

+worrying Weatherby half sick. He may be what you think he is; I'm not

+in position to know; but it's all nonsense for you to take on yourself

+the duties of judge, jury, and hangman. You attend to yourself and let

+Weatherby attend to himself. That's what I want you to do."

+

+Joe's voice had been getting sharper and sharper as he proceeded and

+when he had finished his eyes were sparkling dangerously. As always,

+when Joe's temper threatened to get the better of him, Tracy's usual

+aggressiveness disappeared and gave place to a sullen stubbornness. Now

+he traced figures on the stained cloth with a fork and was silent a

+minute before he made reply. Then:

+

+"There's no use in your lecturing me like that," he muttered. "You can

+stick up for Weatherby if you want to, but you needn't think you can

+make me coddle him too. The fellow's a coward and a cad, and you've no

+business asking decent fellows to sit at table with him."

+

+"You'll sit at table with him or you'll get out," cried Joe hotly.

+

+"Then I'll get out!"

+

+There was silence for a moment, during which Tracy continued to mark up

+the cloth and Joe struggled more or less successfully to get command of

+his temper. Finally he asked, almost calmly:

+

+"Do you mean that you'll leave the team, that you'll throw me over and

+threaten the college with defeat for a mere whim?"

+

+"It isn't a whim," growled Tracy. "It--it's a principle."

+

+Joe smiled in spite of himself and the last of his ill-humor vanished.

+

+"Oh, don't talk poppycock, Tracy," he said. "Look here, you must

+see how difficult you're making it for Hanson and me. We can't do

+what we want to do if there are dissensions among you chaps. Like a

+good fellow, promise me to leave Weatherby alone. He isn't going to

+interfere with you; you know that. The other fellows aren't kicking up

+a row about having him at table, so why should you? Besides, Tracy,

+consider what a thundering hard row the chap has to hoe. Maybe he acted

+the coward; I didn't see it and don't know; but even if he did it's

+more than likely that he's a lot worse ashamed of it than you are,

+and probably wants to make up for it. Give him a show, can't you? Be

+generous, Tracy!"

+

+"Well, let him keep away from me, then," Tracy growled.

+

+"How can he when you're both on the team?" asked Joe impatiently. "We

+want him because he's got the making of a good player; he's sure,

+quick, and--honest."

+

+"Huh!"

+

+"Yes, honest! We've watched him just as we've watched all you

+fellows--perhaps a bit more, because he's under suspicion, as it

+were--and he's played us fair every time. He's done as he's been told

+and done it just as hard as he knew how. And it's all wrong to call a

+man dishonest until he's done something dishonest."

+

+"How about that affair at the river?" asked the other sneeringly.

+

+"A man may be a coward at a--a crisis and a brave man all the rest of

+his life. Physical cowardice isn't dishonesty. For that matter, I can

+imagine a chap running from bullets and yet standing up like a little

+man in front of bayonets. I'm not sure I wouldn't run away from bullets

+myself, and if I were you I wouldn't be too sure, either."

+

+"I'm not a coward," cried Tracy.

+

+"I don't say you are; I don't think you are. And yet you're not brave

+enough to let public opinion go hang and give that poor duffer,

+Weatherby, a fighting chance!"

+

+Gilberth received this in silence, staring moodily at the table. The

+bell in the tower of College Hall began its imperative summons and Joe

+pushed back his chair and arose. Tracy followed his example.

+

+"I didn't mean to keep you so long," said the former. He overtook the

+other at the door and laid a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Don't mind

+my ill-temper, old man. There's no use in having a friend if you can't

+bully him a little now and then. And--er--think over what I said, will

+you?"

+

+"Oh, that's all right," answered Tracy grudgingly. "No harm done. See

+you later."

+

+Joe stood on the porch and watched him cross the road and disappear up

+the broad gravel-path toward the laboratories. Then Joe passed down the

+steps and through the gate with a little smile of satisfaction on his

+face.

+

+"Yes, it is all right," he told himself. "He'll do as I want him to.

+But I wish--I do wish I hadn't lost my pesky temper!"

+

+He turned to the left toward Washington Street and as he neared the

+corner he caught sight of a tall fellow crossing the Common with long

+awkward strides. The ill-fitting clothes and the little stoop of the

+shoulders were sufficient to reveal the man's identity at first glance,

+and Joe hailed him:

+

+"O _Tid_-ball! O Tid-_ba-a-all_!"

+

+Anthony paused, looked, waved a note-book responsively, and stumbling

+over a "Keep off the grass" sign, crossed the turf and clambered over

+the fence.

+

+"How are you, Tidball?" asked Joe, shaking hands. For some reason

+fellows usually did shake hands with Anthony when they met him, just

+as they thumped other acquaintances on the back or punched them in

+the ribs or pulled their caps over their eyes. "You're just the man I

+wanted to see," Joe went on. "As usual, we're just about stone broke;

+the Baseball Association, I mean. We've got to have a lot of money for

+the nine and we've got to raise it by subscription. The schedule has

+the team down for five games away from home, and that means a heap of

+expense. The Athletic Association has given us all they could afford

+to, about one hundred and fifty dollars, but that won't last us any

+time. So we're going to get up a mass meeting in about a week or so and

+try and raise the dust. And we want you to speak for us; whoop things

+up a bit, you know. Can you do it?"

+

+"S'pose so," answered Anthony doubtfully. "But I don't know a blamed

+thing about baseball."

+

+"You won't have to. We've got plenty of chaps who can talk baseball;

+what we want is some one who can open their pockets. We're depending on

+you, Tidball, so say yes, like a good chap. Hanson is going to speak,

+and so is Professor Nast, and so am I. And we're trying to get the dean

+to hem and haw a bit for us. But we need you like anything. What do you

+say?"

+

+"I'll do what I can," said Anthony. "You let me know when it's to be

+and tell me what you want me to say. Don't believe, though, Perkins,

+the fellows will pay much attention to what I've got to say about

+baseball. 'Tisn't as though I knew a ball from a--a----"

+

+"From another ball, eh? Don't let that bother you. I'm awfully much

+obliged; it's very nice of you. And I'll let you know all about it in a

+day or two. By the way, though, where are you living now? Some one said

+you'd left the old joint."

+

+"Yes, I had to when Gooch went home. I'm at Mrs. Dorlon's, down the row

+there."

+

+"Oh, are you? I was just going there. Doesn't young Weatherby room

+there?"

+

+"Yes."

+

+"Is he in now, do you know?"

+

+Anthony settled his spectacles more firmly on his nose before he

+replied.

+

+"No, he's not in just now." He hesitated a moment. Then, "Guess you

+might as well know about it," he said musingly.

+

+"About what?"

+

+"'Bout Weatherby."

+

+"What's he done?"

+

+"Gone home."

+

+"Gone home?"

+

+"Yes, left college."

+

+"But what for? When did he go?" asked Joe in surprise.

+

+"This morning. He left a note for me. Don't know whether it's my place

+to tell folks or not. Maybe you'd better keep it quiet. He might change

+his mind, you know."

+

+"I see," replied Joe thoughtfully. "Do you--do you happen to know why

+he left?"

+

+"Yes, and I guess you do, too."

+

+"You mean----?"

+

+"Yes. He stuck it out as long as he could, but I guess things got too

+hot for him. His note made mention of something that happened this

+morning at training-table."

+

+"By Jove!" muttered the other. "It's a blamed shame! You know,

+Tidball, I never quite believed him the--er--coward they say he is.

+What do you think?"

+

+"Me? Oh, I don't know," answered Anthony uneasily, puckering his lips

+together. "Maybe he isn't."

+

+Joe looked a little surprised.

+

+"I don't know just why," he said, "but I had an idea you'd support

+my judgment of him. Well, perhaps it's just as well that he's gone.

+Although he had the making of----"

+

+"No, no," cried Anthony in sudden contrition, the blood rushing into

+his thin face. "I didn't mean that! I shouldn't have said it, Perkins!

+I think he's--I don't believe he's a coward!" He pressed the other's

+arm convulsively with his long fingers as though seeking to give added

+weight to the emphatic assertion and hurried away. "Come and see me,"

+he called back.

+

+Joe stared after him in bewilderment.

+

+"Strange duffer, Tidball," he reflected. "Wonder if he and Weatherby

+had a row? Sounds like it. Poor old Weatherby! I'm sorry he's gone;

+by Jove, I am sorry! And I fancy I might have prevented it if I'd got

+after Tracy sooner. Hang him, he ought to be licked!"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER X

+

+FLIGHT

+

+

+When Jack left the house he hesitated a moment at the little gate. Then

+he turned to the left and hurried to Murdoch Street and down that to

+the railroad track. He was taking the longest route to the station;

+but, since his main desire was to avoid meeting any one he knew, it

+was also the safest. His battered valise, although by no means full,

+soon grew heavy and began to bump against his legs at every stride.

+When he reached the track, what with the aggravating behavior of the

+valise and the difficulty of walking over the uneven ties, speed was no

+longer possible. He had barely reached the Washington Street crossing

+when a whistle down the track behind him brought consternation. It was

+the 9.22 train, he told himself; and he knew that if he missed that

+he would have to wait a whole hour at the station before he could get

+another--an hour which might serve to bring Anthony upon him with a

+wealth of unanswerable argument in favor of his return.

+

+So, after a quick glance over his shoulder in the direction of the

+warning blast, he shifted the valise again and set out over the ties

+at a run. Once he stumbled and the bag went hurtling down the bank and

+brought up against a board fence. When he had recovered it and had

+scrambled back to the track the train was but a few hundred yards away.

+But the station was almost gained now. He retired to a hand-car siding

+while the engine and its three cars whizzed past him with much grinding

+of brakes, and then ran on in the wake of dust.

+

+There was no time to buy a ticket. When he reached the platform and the

+last car, the conductor had already swung his hand to the engineer.

+Jack pushed his valise on to the car-steps and crawled, breathless,

+after it. Then the train moved again, and a minute later Centerport was

+lost to sight. Jack, huddled upon the rear platform, saw it disappear

+with mingled emotions. Regret was prominent. He wondered at this.

+Surely, he thought, he had been miserable enough at Erskine to make the

+parting anything but regretful. And yet, even as he thought that, the

+idea of leaving the train at the next station and walking back came

+to him with strange attractiveness. Anthony would be glad; none else

+would know that he had contemplated flight; he would go back to the

+training-table, secure a place on the nine, and do great things--things

+that would make the college proud of him. And Gilberth might----

+

+But at the recollection of Gilberth the plan lost its attractiveness.

+Jack gritted his teeth and shook his fist toward where the tower of

+College Hall was still just visible above the tree-tops. Then, having

+recovered his breath, he took up his bag and passed into the car. It

+proved to be the smoker and was almost deserted. He selected a seat on

+the riverside, placed his valise beside him, and gave himself up to

+his thoughts. These were not cheerful. He wondered what his father and

+mother would say to his return. As for the latter, he could count with

+certainty upon her sympathy and support. But his father was different.

+He was a man with a stern conscience, and one singularly devoid of

+the finer sensibilities. For him the path of duty was always clearly

+defined and he trod it unswervingly, no matter what might befall. And,

+as Jack well knew, he looked for and demanded the same moral courage

+from others that he himself displayed. No, there would be no sympathy

+forthcoming from his father. Jack could almost hear him now:

+

+"You had done no wrong, my son. With a clear conscience you had nothing

+to fear. The wrong was in running away."

+

+He might, thought Jack, even insist upon his returning. But that he

+would not do. He would find work and, as soon as possible, would

+pay back to his father the money wasted upon him at Erskine. He had

+intended becoming a teacher. But now that was impossible. Perhaps he

+could get employment from Billy Cromwell. But, whatever happened, he

+would not, having once reached home, go back to Erskine!

+

+Had Jack been less busy with his thoughts he might, perchance, have

+taken notice of a passenger who sat across the car and a little to

+the rear. He was a man of about forty years, with small, clearly

+cut features, brown eyes, and carefully trimmed mustache and beard.

+His attire was notably neat. In his mouth was a cigar, in his hands

+a morning paper, and at his feet a handsome suit-case. Ever since

+Jack's advent he had been watching him over the top of his paper with

+a puzzled frown. The boy's face, seen against the white light of the

+car window, expressed every passing emotion, and the passenger across

+the aisle, who was a good reader of expressions, felt a stirring of

+sympathy at the pervading look of despondency he saw.

+

+Presently the conductor entered, and Jack remembered that he must pay

+his fare. He felt for the little roll of money that was to take him

+home, first in his vest pocket, then in his trousers. Then, while an

+expression of bewilderment came over his face, he searched hurriedly

+in every pocket he possessed. The conductor came and waited patiently.

+Jack seized his valise and began to unstrap it. Then he paused and

+glanced uneasily at the conductor.

+

+"I can't find my money," he said. "If you'll just give me a minute or

+two--" The other nodded and passed on down the car. Jack opened the

+valise and feverishly searched it. But when it was thoroughly upset

+he was forced to acknowledge with a sinking heart that the money was

+not there. He had taken it out of the trunk; he remembered doing that

+perfectly; he had meant to put it into his vest pocket. But it was not

+there.

+

+He stared blankly out of the window, still searching his clothes

+hopelessly. Well, he was not going home after all. Fate had intervened.

+Disappointed and chagrined, he counted the few coins in his trouser's

+pocket and found that while they would pay his way to the next station

+they would not serve to take him back to Centerport. He blinked his

+eyes to keep back the tears. Tears, he reflected miserably, were always

+trying to crawl out nowadays. And then--

+

+"What's wrong, Weatherby?" asked a voice over his shoulder, and Jack

+looked up with startled eyes into the face of Professor White.

+

+[Illustration: "What's wrong, Weatherby?"]

+

+For a moment his surprise kept him silent. And in that moment he saw

+in the professor's face a kindliness that he had never before noticed.

+The professor's brown eyes were plainly sympathetic and the professor's

+lips held a little reassuring smile at their corners. And Jack,

+wondering more, found his tongue.

+

+"Well, that is hard luck," said the professor when he had heard the

+story. "And you're going home, you say? How much money will it take?"

+

+"About ten dollars," answered Jack. The other shook his head.

+

+"That's not much," he replied, "but I'm sorry to say that it's more

+than I've got with me. You see, I'm only going to Hampden, three

+stations up the line, and so didn't bring much. But wouldn't it do if

+you got off at the next station and went back and got your money? Would

+the delay matter? How long leave have you got?"

+

+The conductor came back and smiled questioningly at the pair. Jack

+shook his head.

+

+"I've got to go on," he muttered.

+

+"Well, here now, I'll pay your way to Hampden, anyhow. That will give

+us time to consider things. Here you are, conductor."

+

+When the change had been made and the professor was in possession of an

+elaborate rebate slip, the conductor went off and the professor removed

+Jack's valise from the seat and sat down at the boy's side.

+

+"How long are you going to be gone?" he asked pleasantly.

+

+Jack hesitated. Then--

+

+"I'm not coming back," he answered defiantly.

+

+"What? Leaving college?"

+

+Jack nodded.

+

+"Why, how's that? What's the trouble?" questioned the professor kindly.

+"Nothing wrong at home, I hope?"

+

+"No, sir."

+

+"Then what is it?"

+

+Jack was silent, looking scowlingly out of the window at the flying

+landscape of freshly green hills and meadows with an occasional glimpse

+of the sparkling river. He would accept the other's help as far as

+Hampden, he decided; from there he would work his way home somehow;

+perhaps he could steal a ride now and then on the trains.

+

+"You don't want to tell me, I see," said Professor White. "And I

+dare say that's natural, Weatherby. You and I have had a couple

+of unpleasant conversations, and I suppose the experience doesn't

+recommend me as a confident. But you're in some sort of trouble and I

+think you'd better make a clean breast of it and let me help you if I

+can.

+

+"And while we're speaking of former encounters, Weatherby, I want to

+tell you that I made a mistake that day down at the coal wharf. I've

+got lots of faults, and one of the worst of them is an inclination to

+judge hastily. I accused you of cowardice that day, and I've regretted

+it very often since. I can understand how it might be possible for you

+to have hesitated about going into the river and yet not be guilty of

+cowardice in the strict sense. You see, I've given some thought to the

+matter, after it was a bit too late. I've been watching you since that

+day, and I think I made a mistake; I'm certain I did. And I want you to

+forgive me for the injustice I did you and for the hurt I inflicted.

+Will you?"

+

+"It doesn't matter," answered Jack drearily. "You only said what all

+the others thought. I guess it did hurt, but I don't mind now; you see,

+there's been a lot worse since then."

+

+"Ah!" said the other comprehendingly. "I understand. Don't you think

+you might tell me something about it, Weatherby?"

+

+And after a doubtful glance at the professor's face, in which he read

+only sympathy, Jack told him. He spoke bitterly, giving free rein to

+the pent-up anger and indignation of the past month; and, perhaps,

+he may be forgiven if unconsciously he exaggerated the tale of his

+troubles. When he had finished Professor White nodded gravely, and

+then, after a momentary silence, asked:

+

+"How old are you, Weatherby?"

+

+"Seventeen. I'll be eighteen in July."

+

+"Well, I'm not going to tell you that the thing is trivial, nor that

+were you older it would appear less tragic. Nothing is trivial that

+influences our lives, no matter how small it looks; and it is just the

+things that happen to us when we are young and receptive that are most

+important. I said I would help you if I could, and I'm going to. But in

+order to do it I must first convince you that I am your friend, and I

+fear that's going to be difficult. And," he added, as the train slowed

+down for the second station, "what's more, I haven't much time to do

+it."

+

+"Friends," said Jack sagely, "always advise you to do things you don't

+want to."

+

+"Yes, I guess that's so," answered the professor, smiling. "And I think

+what I'm going to advise will prove me your friend."

+

+Jack watched the coming and going on the station platform for a minute,

+then, as the train began to move again, he asked:

+

+"Would you mind telling me--what it is, sir?"

+

+"No; it's this." He laid a hand on the boy's shoulder and spoke

+earnestly. "Come back, Weatherby, and have another try. Wait," he

+continued, as the other started to speak, "let me finish first. I'm

+not going to belittle your trouble; it's a big one and it's hard to

+bear. But you've borne it for a month and more. You can bear it longer,

+if you try. Make up your mind to it and you'll do it. From what I can

+see, Weatherby, you've given up the fight just on the verge of victory.

+A while back you had the whole college against you; now there is but

+one fellow actively opposed to you. From what you have told me I can

+see that Tidball believes in you, and Perkins, and King. They are all

+men of prominence and their views have weight. Hold on a little while

+longer and you'll find that the college has come around to their way

+of thinking. If you give up now you're losing a year of your life that

+you can't catch up with again if you live to be a hundred. Stick it out

+and you're a year nearer your degree. Besides, there are your parents,

+Weatherby; what are they going to think about it? Maybe they'll say

+you've done right in leaving, but down in their hearts they are going

+to be disappointed over this wasted year."

+

+Jack stared dumbly at his hands, and presently the other went on.

+

+"Come back, and I'll do everything I can to help you, my boy. Just what

+that will be or what it will amount to, I can't say at this moment; but

+what assistance I can give you may be certain of having. You won't find

+it an empty promise."

+

+He paused, and Jack looked up.

+

+"I wish I'd--wish I might have talked to you before," he said.

+

+"So do I, Weatherby; but it isn't too late now. I have a suspicion that

+you've come away without signing off. You needn't tell me whether I'm

+right or wrong. But you may rest assured that there'll be no trouble

+about it. To-morrow you and I'll go back together and try it over."

+

+"But what--where am I going to go now?" asked Jack dismally.

+

+"Why, you'll come home with me, of course," replied the professor. "No

+one need ever know but that you and I came off together. We'll have to

+take a pretty early train back in the morning, but I guess you won't

+mind that. My mother and sister will be very glad to see you, and--

+Hello, here we are! Grab your bag, Weatherby, and come along."

+

+"But--" stammered the boy.

+

+"All right; you can tell me about that when you get outside. Besides,"

+he laughed, "you've got to get off here, anyhow; your fare is only paid

+this far. Hurry up, or we'll both get left!"

+

+A moment later Jack found himself out on a sunny platform, dodging a

+baggage-truck and following his hurrying guide through the throng.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XI

+

+ANTHONY MAKES A STATEMENT

+

+

+The morning after Jack's departure Anthony turned in through the

+little gate at Mrs. Dorlon's and strode quickly up the short path.

+The time was but a quarter before eight. The sun was out, but was

+hidden behind a low-lying bank of mist, through which it glowed

+wanly. In the elms along the street the sparrows were chattering and

+scolding until one would have thought that every family circle was in

+the midst of domestic strife, possible because of overlate worms or

+underdone beetles. It was a tepid sort of morning; the bricks in the

+pavement were wet with the fog and the air was warm. Anthony wore his

+coat-collar turned up, not to protect his throat, but to hide the fact

+that there was no other collar beneath. In his hand he carried a can

+of condensed milk and a little paper bag of coffee. He had been upset

+by the events of the preceding day and had neglected to replenish his

+provision cupboard; hence a postprandial journey to Main Street.

+

+As he climbed the stairs and caught sight of the half-opened door of

+Jack's room, recollection of that youth returned to him and he sighed

+as he crossed the little hall and thrust his own door open. Then

+he stopped short and gave vent to an exclamation of surprise. The

+condensed milk dropped with a thud and rolled under the cot-bed. Jack,

+nodding drowsily in the rocker, opened his eyes and jumped to his feet.

+Then he grinned sheepishly.

+

+"I--I've come back," he muttered.

+

+He partly extended his hand, thinking Anthony would take it. But the

+latter, after a moment of silent surprise, only said:

+

+"Well! I'm glad to see you." He crawled awkwardly under the cot and

+recovered the milk. "Changed your mind, eh?" he asked, as he emerged.

+

+His voice was hearty enough, and he smiled behind his spectacles as

+though pleased, yet Jack felt a chill of disappointment and answered

+soberly:

+

+"Yes, I changed my mind. I came back on an early train. You weren't in

+and so I sat down to wait for you; I guess I must have come pretty near

+to falling asleep. Well, I must go to breakfast."

+

+Anthony fought for a moment against the restraint which gripped him.

+When he spoke his tones held the old warmth.

+

+"Nonsense, Jack, stay here and have some with me. I haven't any fatted

+calf to kill for you, but I can fry a couple of eggs and give you some

+good coffee, and----"

+

+"I can't drink coffee," Jack answered, "but if you really want me to

+stay, I'll be glad to. I--I'd rather not go to training-table this

+morning."

+

+"Course I want you to," answered Anthony. "Why can't you drink coffee,

+though?"

+

+"Training."

+

+"What? Why, coffee never hurt any one; best thing in the world, coffee;

+strengthening, elevating, enlarging; good for body and brain. But tell

+me all about your vacation."

+

+And while Anthony bustled about over his little stove, handling pots

+and pans with a deftness remarkable in a person usually so awkward,

+Jack recounted his experiences rather shamefacedly.

+

+"Right about the professor, wasn't I?" interrupted Anthony once.

+

+"Yes, you were. He's mighty good, Anthony. He treated me as though I

+was the President; and so did his mother and sister. I had a bully

+little room with an open fireplace in it and blue roses all over the

+walls and all sorts of easy chairs made out of rattan stuff; and the

+sun just flooded in the window this morning. My, but I wish I lived

+there all the time!"

+

+"Sounds fine," answered Anthony. "All aboard, now; draw up to the table

+and wade in. Guess you'll have to use the rocker, unless you'd rather

+have this. Here's the sugar. How about-- Pshaw, you're not going to

+drink coffee, are you? Have some water in the toothbrush mug? No? All

+right. Have an egg; that's right, just slide it off. These rolls are

+good; I sprinkle the tops with water and heat 'em up on the stove.

+Sorry I haven't more to offer you, though. Well, Jack, I'm glad you ran

+across White and came back. You'd been sorry--afterward--if you'd gone

+home; and so would I. And, by the way, what was it that set you going?

+What happened at the table yesterday morning? Your note was lacking in

+details."

+

+Jack told about Gilberth's behavior and Anthony's eyes darkened behind

+his spectacles.

+

+"Ugly brute!" he muttered. "Ought to be spanked. But-- Look here, don't

+mind him, Jack; I don't think he's going to trouble you much after

+this. Just keep out of his way."

+

+"I'll try to. If--if he was a freshman, or even a soph, I'd fight him;

+but I can't fight a senior!"

+

+"Huh! You won't have to; he's going to behave himself after this," said

+Anthony grimly.

+

+"Well, I don't know; anyhow, I'm going to stick it out now, no matter

+what happens," Jack said stoutly. "That's my last try at running away.

+If it hadn't been for forgetting my money, I guess I'd have gone. Funny

+how it happened, wasn't it? The worst of it is, I thought I'd left the

+money in my trunk, but I've looked and it isn't there; I can't find it

+anywhere. It was about all I had. I guess dad will be madder than a

+hatter when I write home for more."

+

+"That's too bad," said Anthony. "If you want a little--a dollar or two,

+you know--to go on until you hear from home, I can let you have it as

+well as not."

+

+"You're awfully good," answered Jack gratefully. "But it would be a

+nice thing for me to borrow from you, wouldn't it? Don't you think I

+know how hard up you are?"

+

+"Oh, well, you could pay it back, you know. If you'd rather, you could

+give me a mortgage on your clothes," he added, smiling.

+

+"Then, if my money didn't come, you might for-clothes," laughed Jack.

+

+"Running away from school seems to sharpen your wits," said Anthony.

+"Have another egg? Won't take a minute. Good; I like my guests to have

+appetites."

+

+"You'd have one yourself if you'd been hauled out of a nice, soft bed

+at half-past six!"

+

+"Guess I would; but I wouldn't make bad puns."

+

+Presently, while the egg was sputtering in the pan, Jack asked, with a

+trace of embarrassment:

+

+"Did you--get that watch-charm?"

+

+"Yes; much obliged," was the answer. "Guess I'd better give it back

+now. Won't need it to remember you by if you're in the same hut with

+me, eh?"

+

+"I--I'd rather you did keep it, though, and wear it, if you don't mind.

+Did you put it on your chain?"

+

+The fork fell into the pan, and Anthony fished it out with much

+muttering before he answered. Then--

+

+"Why, no, I didn't, Jack. You see----"

+

+"I know; it isn't very beautiful; just one I had."

+

+"That isn't the reason," said Anthony without turning around. "Fact is,

+I'm not wearing my watch just now."

+

+"Oh, aren't you? Why--what----"

+

+"Well, a fellow can't have money to lend and a gold watch at the same

+time. Just at present I'm a moneylender."

+

+"Oh, I see," Jack replied. But, nevertheless, he didn't look satisfied

+with the explanation, and when Anthony returned to the breakfast-table

+with the egg he had been frying the two finished the meal almost in

+silence.

+

+Thanks to the secrecy of the three persons who alone knew of Jack's

+absence from Centerport, his return to the training-table at lunch-time

+occasioned no surprise. Joe Perkins looked bewildered for a moment,

+but said nothing. King called across the board and asked Jack where

+he'd been since the day before, and Jack calmly replied that he'd been

+home with Professor White overnight. Several pairs of eyebrows went up

+incredulously, but no one voiced his doubts. Gilberth took absolutely

+no notice of Jack, and, at least in so far as the latter was concerned,

+the meal went off pleasantly. He had expected to be called to account

+by the trainer, but Simson had eyes of his own and said nothing as

+long as luncheon was in progress. When it was over he questioned the

+captain. After a moment of hesitation, Joe told the trainer the facts

+of Jack's absence as he knew them.

+

+"I think," he said, "that the best thing to do is to take no notice

+this time. Weatherby may turn out a good man for us if he can get his

+mind on his work. But if this badgering continues he won't be worth a

+continental; he's all up in the air. Maybe you can give him a good word

+now and then, 'Baldy'; the poor dub needs it all right."

+

+"Sure, I can," answered the trainer. "Give the lad a chance; why not? I

+doubt he's varsity material, cap, but he's a decent spoken lad enough."

+

+Tracy Gilberth walked back to his room after luncheon feeling very

+dissatisfied with life. He had not yet forgiven Joe for the lecture

+which the latter had delivered to him the day before. Tracy felt deeply

+wronged. He really believed that when he had publicly affronted Jack

+Weatherby that he had been performing a service to the college; that

+it was his duty to protest against the presence at the university of a

+fellow who had shown himself to be a coward. Tracy had a rather good

+opinion of himself and of his importance, and had never doubted that,

+since others had failed to act in the matter, it was his place to step

+to the front. The wigging he had received from Joe had surprised as

+well as disgruntled him, and his vanity still smarted.

+

+And what increased his annoyance was the fact that he had been "called

+down" by the one fellow of all whom Tracy really held in affection,

+and who, or so Tracy argued, should have been the very last to oppose

+him. Never before had the two, whose friendship dated back from their

+sophomore year, come so near to quarreling as they had yesterday.

+Differences of opinion they frequently had, but Tracy always retired

+from whatever position he held at the first sign of displeasure on the

+part of the other. But yesterday Tracy's backdown had been incomplete;

+to-day he was not decided whether to do as Joe wanted him to and leave

+the obnoxious Weatherby strictly alone or to show his resentment by

+continuing his righteous persecution of that youth with some more than

+usually severe affront. In fact, Tracy hovered on the verge of open

+mutiny when, after climbing the first flight of stairs in Grace Hall,

+he turned to the left down the broad corridor and kicked open the

+unlatched door of his study.

+

+"Hello!" he exclaimed.

+

+"Hello!" was the response from the depths of a big leather armchair,

+and Anthony, who had been reclining with widely stretched legs

+and reading a magazine, placed the latter back on the mahogany

+writing-table and calmly faced his host. The two knew each other well

+enough to nod in passing, but never before had Anthony paid Tracy a

+visit, and the latter's evident surprise was natural enough.

+

+"Found your door open," explained Anthony, "so I came in and waited.

+Wanted to see you a minute or two, Gilberth."

+

+"That's all right; glad you made yourself comfortable," answered the

+other.

+

+"Nice rooms you've got," continued the visitor.

+

+"Oh, they do well enough," Tracy replied carelessly.

+

+As a matter of fact they were the handsomest in college, and he knew

+it and was proud of it. The study was furnished throughout in mahogany

+upholstered in light-green leather, a combination of colors at first

+glance a trifle disconcerting, but which, when viewed in connection

+with the walls and draperies, was quite harmonious. The walls were

+covered to the height of five feet with denim of dark green. Above

+this a mahogany plate-rail ran about the apartment and held a few old

+pewter platters and tankards, some good pieces of luster-ware and a

+half-dozen bowls and pitchers of Japanese glaze. Above the shelf,

+buckram of a dull shade of mahogany red continued to the ceiling, where

+it gave way to cartridge-paper of a still lighter shade. The draperies

+at doors and windows were of the prevailing tones. The effect of the

+whole was one of cheerful dignity. The room was not overcrowded with

+furniture and the walls held a few pictures, and those of the best.

+There was a refreshing absence of small photographs and knickknacks.

+Tracy was proud of his taste in the matter of decoration and furnishing

+and proud of the result as here shown. Anthony liked the room without

+understanding it. Perhaps the little whimsical smile that curved his

+lips was summoned by a mental comparison of the present apartment and

+his own chamber with its cracked and stained whitewashed walls and

+povern fittings.

+

+"You wanted to see me, you said?" prompted Tracy.

+

+"Yes," answered the visitor. "Maybe it will simplify matters if I start

+out by telling you that Jack Weatherby's a particular friend of mine."

+

+"Oh," said Tracy. "Well?"

+

+"Well, don't you think you've bothered him enough, Gilberth?"

+

+"Look here, Tidball, I don't like your tone," said Tracy with asperity.

+

+"Can't help it," answered Anthony. "I don't like the way you've been

+hazing Weatherby. Now we know each other's grievance."

+

+"What I've done to Weatherby doesn't concern you," said Tracy hotly.

+"And I'm not to be dictated to. The fellow's a coward and a bounder."

+

+"Don't know what bounder is," answered the other dryly. "Doesn't sound

+nice, though. Suppose we stop calling names? I might lose my temper

+and call you something, and you mightn't like it, either. But I didn't

+come up here to quarrel with you; don't like to quarrel with a man in

+his room; doesn't seem polite, does it? What I came to say is this,

+Gilberth: leave Weatherby alone or you'll have me to deal with."

+

+"Is that a threat?"

+

+"No, I guess not; just a statement of fact."

+

+"Do you think I'm afraid of you?" demanded Tracy angrily.

+

+"Guess not; keep on tormenting Weatherby and I'll know you're not."

+

+"Now, look here, Tidball, if you want a row, you can have it right off.

+You don't need to wait and see what happens to your precious friend.

+I'll fight you any time you like. Do you want a fight?"

+

+"No, not particularly," answered Anthony, with his most exasperating

+drawl. "Never fought any one in my life. Wouldn't know how to go about

+it, I guess. Even----"

+

+"Well, you'll know all about it mighty soon if you don't get out of

+here!"

+

+"Don't think I shall. Haven't any intention of fighting."

+

+"Haven't you, indeed? Well, what, I'd like to know, are you hinting at?"

+

+"Not hinting at all. You leave Weatherby alone or I'll catch you in the

+yard and wallop you with a trunk-strap; but," he added grimly, "there

+won't be any fighting."

+

+He drew his long length out of the chair and took up his hat. Tracy,

+pale with anger, eyed him silently a moment. Then he leaped forward and

+sent him spinning back against the chair with a blow on the shoulder.

+The next moment he felt himself lifted bodily from his feet, turned

+head over heels, and deposited in that inglorious position on the broad

+leather couch. When things stopped revolving he saw Tidball's calm face

+bending over him and felt his wrists held tightly together by fingers

+that grasped them like steel bands. He struggled violently until his

+opponent placed a bony knee on his chest. Then he subsided.

+

+"Now keep still and listen to me," said Tidball in quiet, undisturbed

+tones. "I'm a peaceable fellow, and don't fight. But if you don't

+remember what I've told you, I'm going to grab you just like this some

+day--and it'll be when there are plenty of men looking on, too--and I'm

+going to spank you with a trunk-strap. If you don't believe me," he

+added with a slight grin, "I'll show you the strap!"

+

+"I'll--I'll kill----"

+

+"No, you won't do a thing," the other interrupted sternly. "You'll stay

+just where you are and behave yourself. If you don't, I'll lock you up

+in your bedroom; and that's a liberty I don't want to take."

+

+He released Tracy and stepped back. Tracy leaped to his feet, but

+something in the look of the eyes behind the steel-bowed spectacles

+persuaded him to keep his distance. Anthony picked up his hat from the

+floor, dusted it tenderly with his elbow, and walked to the door.

+

+"Sorry there was any trouble, Gilberth," he said soberly. "Maybe I

+lost my temper; it's a mean one sometimes. Think over what I said." He

+closed the door noiselessly behind him, and Tracy, shaking and choking

+with wrath, groaned futilely.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XII

+

+A FLY TO LEFT-FIELDER

+

+

+Jack sat on the players' bench, chin in hands, elbows on knees, and

+watched Centerport High School go down in defeat. It was the first

+game of the season for the varsity, and, judged by high standards,

+it wasn't anything to be proud of. At the end of the sixth inning

+the score was 9--0 in Erskine's favor, and not one of the nine runs

+had been earned. The error column on the score-sheet was so filled

+with little round dots that, from where Jack sat, it looked as though

+some one had sprinkled it with pepper. If, so far, there had been any

+encouraging features they were undoubtedly Joe Perkins's catching of

+Gilberth's erratic curves and Knox's work at shortstop. The outfield

+had conscientiously muffed every fly that had come its way, and only

+the quick recovery of the ball had, on several occasions, prevented

+High School from scoring.

+

+Joe Perkins looked disgusted whenever he walked to the bench, and the

+expression on the countenance of Hanson, the head coach, was one of

+bewilderment. "It's simply wonderful!" Jack heard him confide to Joe.

+"I don't see how they do it. I can understand how they can muff every

+other ball, say; but the whole-souled manner in which they let every

+one slide through their fingers is marvelous!" And Joe had smiled

+weakly and turned away.

+

+When the men trotted out for the beginning of the seventh, Jack slid

+along the bench to where Patterson, the team's manager, was scowling

+over the score-book. Jack had never spoken to Patterson, and a week ago

+he would have hesitated a long while before risking a snub by doing

+so. But since his return from his "visit" with Professor White the

+treatment he had received from the other members of the team had been

+so decent that he was ceasing to look upon himself as a Pariah and

+was regaining some degree of assurance. He studied the book over the

+manager's shoulder a moment. Then he asked:

+

+"Pretty poor, isn't it? Do you think Perkins will put any more subs in?"

+

+Patterson glanced around with a flicker of surprise in his eyes. But

+his answer was friendly enough:

+

+"I don't know what he'll do. But if the subs can play any better than

+the men he's got in there he'd better give 'em a chance. Where do you

+play?"

+

+"Almost anywhere, I guess. They've had me at left-field, right-field,

+and second base. I guess I'll be in the outfield if I get in at all."

+

+"You'd better go out there and help Northup," said the manager, as he

+credited Motter, at first base, with his third error. "I don't suppose

+it matters much whether High School scores or not; only I would like to

+see Erskine have a clean record this year. And to get scored on in the

+first game looks pretty rotten. Who made that assist?"

+

+"Stiles. Can't Gilberth pitch better than he's doing to-day?"

+

+"Of course he can. He's all right when he tries; he evidently thinks

+this game isn't worth while. But I'll wager that Hanson will have

+something to say to him afterward. Side's out. Stiles at bat!"

+

+Erskine managed to find High School's pitcher to good effect in the

+last of the seventh and piled up four more runs, two of them fairly

+earned. When Erskine trotted into the field again Hanson and Perkins

+had materially altered her batting list. King, who had been playing

+in left-field, went into the pitcher's box, and Jack was sent out to

+left-field. Griffin succeeded Joe as catcher, Mears took Motter's place

+at first, and Smith went in at shortstop.

+

+Jack watched events from his position over near the rail fence and was

+never once disturbed; for King retired the opposing batsmen in one,

+two, three order, and the sides again changed places. Jack didn't have

+a chance to show what he could do with the stick, for High School,

+following Erskine's lead, put a new man into the box, and the new man

+puzzled the batsmen so that only one reached first, and was left there

+when Billings, third-baseman, popped a short fly into the hands of High

+School's shortstop. Jack trotted back to the rail fence very disgusted.

+

+It was the last inning. The sun was getting low and the chill of early

+evening caused Jack to swing his arms and prance around to keep the

+blood circulating. Over by the bench he could see them packing the bats

+away, and a little stream of spectators was filling around behind the

+back fence toward the gate. High School had reached the tail-end of

+her batting list again, and, to all appearances, the game was as good

+as finished. But last innings can't always be depended upon to behave

+as expected. The present one proved this. High School's first man at

+bat heroically tried to smash a long fly into outfield and, all by

+good luck, bunted the ball into the dust at his feet. After a moment

+of bewilderment, he put out for first and reached it at the same time

+as the ball. High School's noisy supporters took new courage and awoke

+the echoes with their fantastic war-whoop. King looked bothered for an

+instant, and in that instant struck the next batsman on the elbow. The

+latter, rubbing the bruise and grinning joyfully, trotted to first and

+the man ahead took second.

+

+"Huh," muttered Jack, rubbing his chilled hands together, "something

+doing, after all."

+

+But King settled down then, and, after three attempts to catch the High

+School runner napping at second base, struck out the next man very

+nicely. The succeeding one, finding a straight ball, bunted it toward

+first, and, while he was tagged out by King, advanced the runners. High

+School's supporters, gathered into a little bunch on the stand, waved

+their flags and ribbons, and shouted frantically. For surely, with men

+on third and second and their best batter selecting his stick, a run

+was not unlikely. Hanson shouted a command and King, repeating it,

+motioned the fielders in. Jack obeyed, doubtingly, for he had watched

+the present player and believed him capable of hitting hard. And so,

+although he made pretense of shortening field, he remained pretty much

+where he had been. And a moment later he was heartily glad of it.

+

+For the High School batsman, a tall, lanky, but very determined-looking

+youth, found King's first delivery and raced for first. Along the

+base-lines the coaches were shouting unintelligible things and

+flourishing their caps. The runners on third and second were running

+home. In the outfield Bissell, center-fielder, was speeding back,

+cutting over into Jack's territory as he went. Jack, too, was going up

+the field, yet cautiously, for the shadows were gathering and it was

+hard to tell where the little black speck up there against the purple

+sky was going to fall. Yet when, with a final glance over his shoulder,

+he took up his position, and heard Bissell, panting from his run, cry:

+"All yours, Weatherby!" he never doubted that he would catch it. To

+Jack a fly was merely a baseball that required catching; and he was

+there to catch it. So he took a step or two forward, put up his hands,

+and pulled it down. Then he threw it to second-baseman and trotted in.

+

+When he reached the plate the applause had died away and the remainder

+of the audience was hurrying off the field. The players were finding

+sweaters and, having thrown them over their shoulders, were hurrying

+across to the locker-house. Jack, searching for his own, heard Hanson's

+voice behind him:

+

+"Well, Joe, we've got one man who can catch a ball, eh?"

+

+Jack knew that he wasn't supposed to hear that remark, and so he took

+his time at pulling his white sweater out of the pile. When he turned,

+the head coach and captain were walking away. Jack followed, feeling

+very thankful that he had not missed his one chance of the game. As he

+entered the door he almost ran against the coach. Hanson smiled into

+his face as he stepped aside.

+

+"That was a very fair catch, Weatherby," he said.

+

+And a moment later, when, wrapped only in a big bath-towel, he was

+hurrying to the shower-room, "Baldy" Simson clapped him on the back

+with a big hand.

+

+"That's the lad now," he cried heartily, adding then his invariable

+caution: "Easy with the hot water, and don't go to sleep!"

+

+At dinner-table Jack thought the other fellows looked at him with

+something like respect. And all, he reflected, because he had caught a

+ball he couldn't help catching!

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIII

+

+JOE IS PESSIMISTIC

+

+

+"Have you seen the editorial in the Purple?" asked King.

+

+Joe Perkins, who had pushed his book away as the other entered his

+study, swung around in his chair and shook his head.

+

+"About the mass-meeting?" he asked. "No, I haven't seen the paper yet.

+What does it say?"

+

+Gregory King leaned over the table until the inky-smelling sheets of

+the college weekly were under the green glass shade of the student-lamp.

+

+"Listen, then, benighted one! 'It is to be hoped that every student who

+can possibly do so will attend the mass-meeting to be held on Wednesday

+evening next in Grace Hall for the purpose of raising money for the

+expenses of the University baseball team. A victory over Robinson this

+spring decisive enough to obliterate----'"

+

+"Hear! hear!" cried Joe.

+

+"Yes, elegant word, isn't it?" grinned the other. "'To obliterate the

+stigma of last year's defeat is what every friend of the college hopes

+for and expects. But unless enough money is placed at the disposal

+of the management, to meet the expenses of the team, such a victory

+can not be secured. The nine has never been self-supporting and every

+spring it has started in with a deficit of from fifty to a hundred and

+fifty dollars, which has been paid by the Athletic Committee from the

+general fund. Heretofore the Committee has, besides making good the

+deficit, paid over to the baseball management sufficient money to carry

+the team through the first half of the season. This spring, however,

+the Committee is unable to do this. The football receipts last fall

+were scarcely more than half as large as usual, while the expenses were

+much greater. As a result, the sum at the disposal of the baseball

+team, the track team, and the crew is extremely small, and the former

+has received as its share the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars

+only--a sum not nearly sufficient to carry it through the first half of

+the season.

+

+"'It becomes necessary, therefore, to secure funds from some other

+source. Subscriptions have been invited from the alumni, but the result

+of this step is uncertain. A popular subscription is necessary and will

+be asked at the meeting on Wednesday. The amount required to insure

+the success of the nine is not large, and it is the duty of the student

+body to see that it is raised before the meeting is adjourned. Manager

+Patterson will make a statement of the association's condition, and

+there will be addresses by Dean Levatt, Professor Nast, Coach Hanson,

+Captain Perkins, A. Z. Tidball, '04, and others. It is to be hoped that

+the meeting will be attended by every member of the university.'"

+

+"Not bad," commented Joe. "But whether Patterson has made a mistake by

+stating frankly that the meeting is called to secure money remains to

+be seen."

+

+"What else could he say? The fellows aren't going to be gulled into

+thinking that they're invited to a mass-meeting to play ping-pong!"

+

+"I know, but there are lots of fellows who won't come if they know

+they're to be asked to dive into their pockets."

+

+"Then let them stay away," answered King forcibly. "Any chap that isn't

+willing to give a dollar or two to beat Robinson isn't worth bothering

+with!"

+

+"I dare say; but we've got to have a lot of money, and if every fellow

+of that sort stays away--" He shook his head doubtfully.

+

+"Oh, get out! You're pessimistic this evening. Cheer up; the tide's

+coming in! We'll get all the money we need, and lots more besides.

+You'll see."

+

+"Hope so. Fact is, Greg, I'm a bit down in the mouth over the showing

+we made Saturday. If we don't do better Wednesday I sha'n't blame the

+fellows if they refuse to pony up for us. A nine that plays ball like a

+lot of girls doesn't deserve support."

+

+"Well, we were pretty rotten Saturday, Joe, and that's the truth. But

+we'll stand by you better next time. We'll give a good exhibition of

+union-made, hand-sewn baseball on Wednesday that'll tickle the college

+to death. By the way, there's a long fairy tale from Collegetown here

+in the Purple about Robinson's team. To read it you'd think they

+expected to walk all over us and everybody else. They're talking about

+beating Artmouth next week! How's that for immortal cheek?"

+

+"Oh, they've got a good nine, Greg, and they know it. And you and I

+know it. We might as well face it, too."

+

+"Well, what if they have? Great Scott, man, haven't they had good nines

+lots of times before and been beaten out of their boots? What do we

+care for their old Voses and Condits and 'Hard-hitting Hopkinses'?

+Maybe we've got a good battery ourselves, and a man or two who can slug

+the ball!"

+

+"Maybe we have," answered Joe dryly, "but you couldn't just name them,

+could you?"

+

+"Certainly I can name them! You're just as good a catcher as that

+Condit wonder of theirs. And Gilberth can pitch all around Vose, when

+he wants to. And----"

+

+"Yes, when he wants to," said Joe significantly.

+

+"Well, he will want to when it comes to Robinson," said King.

+

+"Perhaps. And how about the hard sluggers?"

+

+"Oh, well, there's Motter, and Billings, and----"

+

+"Yourself; you're a better batsman than either of them, Greg. But

+there's no use in running down Hopkins; he's a wonder at the bat; and

+we've got to get busy and turn out a few fellows like him. Saturday

+there wasn't more than three decent hits made in the whole idiotic

+game."

+

+"My cheerless friend, please forget Saturday," begged King. "It wasn't

+nice, I know, but it showed up the weak spots, and that's something to

+be thankful for."

+

+"Not when there's nothing but spots," lamented Joe.

+

+"Besides, we kept them from scoring; and for a while it looked as

+though we couldn't."

+

+"And even that was just a piece of good luck."

+

+"Good luck? Why, it didn't seem so to me. I never saw a fielder look

+more certain of making a catch than Weatherby did. And the way he

+pulled down that ball was mighty pretty, too."

+

+"I don't mean that it was luck for him; I mean that it was just by luck

+that I put him in your place when you went into the box; I almost sent

+Lowe out there. If I had it's dollars to cents he wouldn't have judged

+that ball so as to have caught it."

+

+"Well, all's well that ends well, old chap. Cheer up! By the way, I was

+mighty glad Weatherby made that catch and kept our slate clean; for his

+sake, I mean. I've noticed that yesterday and to-day the fellows at the

+table have been very decent to him. I guess he rather made a hit with

+them Saturday."

+

+"I'm glad of that," Joe responded heartily. "To tell the truth, Greg,

+Weatherby's been bothering me a good deal; Hanson and I picked him

+out for a good man, and I think he is, but all this badgering by the

+fellows has made him pretty near worthless. I hope to goodness it's

+done with now."

+

+"It's been Tracy more than any one else," said King. "He's rather

+overdone it, I think."

+

+"I should say so! The trouble with Tracy is that he gets it into his

+thick head that he's a sort of public conscience, and you can't get it

+out. I don't think he really intends to be mean; I've known him to do

+several mighty decent things--kind-hearted, you know."

+

+"Seems as though his sense of proportion was out of gear; and you can't

+faze him, either."

+

+"Well, I don't know; sometimes I manage to jar him a bit. I got at him

+last week and asked him to go easy on Weatherby, and so far he's done

+it. I put it to him on the score of justice and that sort of thing,

+you know. I've noticed, by the way, that you've been kind of taking

+Weatherby's part lately. Do you like him?"

+

+"I don't know whether I do or don't," answered King slowly. "I think

+maybe I could like him very well if he'd give me a chance, but the

+trouble is he won't let you get near him. He's the most independent,

+stand-offish sort of chap ever."

+

+"I know. It's rather against him, that kind of thing. But I fancy,

+Greg, that that manner of his is sort of defensive; I don't believe

+he's really so independent as he is--well, shy. He thinks fellows don't

+care to know him and so puts on that let-me-alone air just to hide the

+fact that he's downhearted."

+

+"Do you? Well, maybe you're right. It never occurred to me."

+

+"Yes; and something Professor White said the other day bears me out.

+He came up to see me about Weatherby. It seems he's taken rather a

+shine to him, and had him home with him overnight last week. He says

+that Weatherby's frightfully cut up over the way the fellows have been

+treating him; thinks no one wants to have anything to do with him on

+account of that affair down at the river, you know, and is just about

+ready to throw up the sponge and light out. In fact--" Joe stopped,

+remembering that Anthony had requested him not to talk of Jack's

+flight. "Anyhow, it seems rather a shame, don't you think? The chap's

+a nice-looking, gentlemanly sort, and apparently has lots of pluck, in

+spite of what happened at the wharf that day."

+

+"That's what I think. I believe the truth of that business is that

+Weatherby doesn't know how to swim, Joe."

+

+"Really? Did he ever say so?"

+

+"Oh, thunder, no! He never's talked about it to me; I'd be scared to

+death to ask him. But that seems a reasonable sort of explanation,

+doesn't it?"

+

+"Yes, it does. And it's funny that it never occurred to me. Somehow,

+you take it for granted here that every fellow knows how to swim; we're

+such a lot of water-rats, you know. I believe you've hit it, Greg. But

+if that's the case, why didn't he out and say so?"

+

+"Well, I don't know. Maybe we didn't give him a chance at first, and

+then, when he did have a show, maybe he got spunky and wouldn't. It's

+the sort of thing I could understand his doing."

+

+"Yes, it is. Well, anyhow, he's cut up more rumpus and made more worry

+than any freshie I ever knew. And I hope to goodness it's over. I want

+him to play ball. Going? Don't forget to drum up the meeting. Bring a

+crowd with you and start the enthusiasm early in the game. And, by the

+way, if you ever have a chance, you might just try and find out about

+Weatherby; whether he can swim, you know. So long, Greg."

+

+Jack would have been distinctly surprised had he known that he was the

+subject of so much discussion. He was beginning to congratulate himself

+that the men with whom he associated seemed to have forgotten the

+unpleasant incident, and were, in a manner, making his acquaintance all

+over again. There was no denying the fact that since his performance

+of Saturday on the diamond the fellows at the training-table had shown

+themselves very friendly toward him. Of old he had usually eaten his

+meals in silence, save for an occasional word with Joe or King or

+the trainer. Nowadays the fellows greeted him as one of themselves,

+included him in their conversation, and even asked his opinion

+sometimes. And unconsciously he was bidding for their friendship. He

+no longer answered all inquiries with monosyllables, but forgot his

+role of injured innocence and entered into the talk with sprightliness

+and interest. Once he had even made a joke. It was a good joke, but its

+effect was embarrassing. Every one was so surprised that for a full

+quarter of a minute not a sound greeted it. Then the table broke into

+laughter. But by that time Jack was all self-consciousness once more,

+and for the rest of the meal ate in silence.

+

+But his shyness wore off again, and by the middle of the week his

+companions had adopted a way of listening when he spoke as though what

+he had to say was worth hearing. The effect of this was like a tonic to

+Jack's vanity. He began to recover his naturally good spirits and the

+change in him was noticeable. Anthony saw and was delighted.

+

+The friendship between him and the younger boy had worked back into its

+old lines. Sometimes, more and more infrequently as time passed, Jack

+thought he could detect a difference in Anthony's attitude toward him;

+fancied that the other was reserved in manner. But the difference, if

+difference there was, was slight and did not seriously impair Jack's

+enjoyment of Anthony's friendship.

+

+Anthony himself in those days was not aware that he showed at times

+any of the doubts that assailed him. He did not mean to. He had argued

+with himself over the matter of the lost watch and had at length

+practically convinced himself that, despite all evidences against his

+friend, Jack was not guilty of theft. It is probable that even had

+Anthony detected Jack in the act of stealing he would still have kept

+much of his liking for the boy, even while detesting his offense.

+Anthony was big enough morally to view wrong-doing with pity as well

+as disfavor, and his affection for Jack--a big-hearted, generous

+affection--would have weighed in the boy's favor.

+

+But Anthony had made up his mind to believe in the other's innocence,

+and believe he did. Sometimes the doubts would creep back despite him,

+and it was at such times that Jack believed he detected a difference

+in Anthony's manner toward him. Meanwhile, Anthony had purchased a

+wonderful alarm-clock for the sum of eighty-five cents; wonderful for

+the reason that it gained an hour each day as long as it stood on its

+feet, and lost twenty minutes each day if laid comfortably on its back.

+Anthony corrected it every evening by Jack's watch, and persevered in

+his efforts to lead it back into a life of veracity and usefulness.

+

+"There's some position," he declared, "in which that thing will keep

+exact time. 'Tisn't on its feet, and 'tisn't on its back; it's

+somewhere between. Patience and study will find the solution."

+

+So he propped it at various angles with his books, and even laid it

+on its head, but whether the numerals XII pointed toward the floor,

+the ceiling, or the dormer-window the result was always surprising

+and never satisfactory. And finally, after he had once awakened and

+prepared his breakfast before discovering that the alarm had gone off

+at five instead of half-past six, he gave up the struggle, settled the

+timepiece firmly on its little legs, and accustomed himself to being

+always one hour ahead of the rest of the world.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIV

+

+THE MASS-MEETING

+

+

+On the Wednesday for which the mass-meeting was called Jack returned

+to the house at quarter after five, and, as was his custom, stopped

+in at Anthony's room to spend half an hour before dinner. Anthony

+had improvised a window-seat out of a packing-case, covering it with

+an old red table-cloth and installing upon it his one cushion, a not

+over-soft and very flamboyant creation in purple and white. When Jack

+entered he found Anthony perched thereon before the open casement. The

+seat was not very long and so the occupant was obliged to either let

+his legs hang over the edge or fold them up beneath him. At present he

+had adopted the latter tactics, and a ludicrous figure he presented.

+Jack subsided on to the edge of the bed and giggled with delight until

+Anthony tossed the book he was studying at his head.

+

+"What are you crying about?" he demanded.

+

+"I'm not cr--crying," gurgled Jack. "I'm la--laughing at you."

+

+"What's the matter with me?"

+

+"You look so--so funny!"

+

+"Do I?" Anthony grinned and unfolded himself. "I was thinking a while

+ago that I was like a pair of scissors I saw once. The blades tucked

+back against the handles. How'd the game come out?"

+

+"Pretty well; seven to nothing. Millport came pretty near getting a

+run in the fourth, but after that she didn't have a ghost of a show.

+I didn't, either. I didn't get in for a minute; just sat on that old

+bench and looked on and nearly froze to death."

+

+"Too bad," sympathized Anthony.

+

+"Wasn't it? However, I don't care very much. Hanson sat with me a while

+and we had a long talk. He knows a whole lot about baseball; stuff I

+never thought of; scientific part of the game, you know."

+

+"Hanged if I do!" answered Anthony. "I don't know a baseball from a

+longstop."

+

+"A what?" gasped Jack.

+

+"Longstop; isn't that it?"

+

+"Shortstop, you mean."

+

+"Well, knew it was some kind of a stop. Might as well call it one thing

+as the other, I guess."

+

+"Why don't you come out and see a game some day?"

+

+"Going to some afternoon, when I've nothing to do."

+

+"Huh! I guess you'll never come, then. You're always grinding."

+

+"Oh, I'll take a vacation some Saturday and go and watch you play."

+

+"Don't know whether you will or not," said Jack dolefully. "King played

+in left-field all the game to-day. Pretty nearly every sub except me

+went in. I wish they'd give me a place to try for and let me see if

+I can't make it. I hope, though, they don't put me out in the field.

+Perkins told me yesterday that there's no use in my trying for pitcher

+this year, and I guess he's right. Gilberth played a great game to-day;

+struck seven men out and gave only two bases."

+

+"How are you and he getting on nowadays?" Anthony asked.

+

+"All right. He never has anything to say to me, and I let him alone."

+

+"Guess he won't trouble you any more," said Anthony.

+

+"Perhaps not. Sometimes, though, I think he's saving up for something

+particularly unpleasant. I don't care, though. He can go hang."

+

+Anthony closed the window, drew down the stained green shade, and

+lighted the gas-stove. Jack lay back on the bed for a time and watched

+the dinner preparations in silence.

+

+"What's the _piece de resistance_ to-night?" he finally asked, as there

+came a sputtering from the pan.

+

+"Hamburger steak with onions," answered Anthony.

+

+"Ugh!"

+

+"Don't you like it?" asked his host in surprise.

+

+"Not a bit; and I don't like the beastly smell, either. So I'm going

+home." He stretched his arms luxuriously and sat up. Then, "Did you

+ever wish you were rich, Anthony?" he asked.

+

+Anthony paused a moment with fork outstretched, and looked thoughtfully

+across the room. Finally, he shook his head.

+

+"No, I don't believe I ever did. What's the use?"

+

+"No use, I suppose. But I have, often. I wish so now. Do you know what

+I'd do if I had fifty thousand dollars?"

+

+"No; but something silly, I guess," answered the other, prodding the

+steak till it sizzled.

+

+"Well, I'd throw that foolish, lying clock out of the window and get

+your watch back. Then I'd take you to--to--Boston, I guess, and buy

+you a ripping good dinner for once in your life. We'd have quail and

+asparagus, and-- Do you like chocolate eclairs?"

+

+"Don't know; never ate any. What are they like?"

+

+"Well, we'd have them, anyway. Wish I had one now. And-- But I'm

+getting hungry, myself."

+

+"Better stay and have some Hamburger and onions," advised Anthony, with

+a smile. But Jack fled toward the door, ostentatiously holding his nose.

+

+At half past seven they set out for the mass-meeting together. When

+they had crossed the Common and had entered the yard they found

+themselves in one of a number of little eddies of laughing, chattering

+fellows that flowed across the campus and merged in front of Grace Hall

+into a stream that filled the doorway and staircase from side to side.

+

+"Going to have a full house," observed Anthony.

+

+At the door of the meeting-room they ran into Joe Perkins. He grabbed

+Anthony and sent him, under charge of Patterson, the manager, to a seat

+on the platform. Then he put a detaining hand on Jack's arm.

+

+"Cheer like everything, Weatherby!" he whispered.

+

+Then a six-foot sophomore, leading a flying wedge consisting of a

+handful of his classmates, bucked Jack between the shoulders and he

+went rushing up the aisle, tossing the crowd to either side, until

+he managed to avoid the men behind by slipping into a vacant seat.

+The big sophomore banged him on the shoulder as he charged on. "Bully

+interference!" he cried. Followed by his companions, he leaped over the

+intervening row of occupied seats and subsided in a heap among a little

+throng of delighted friends. "Down here!" he yelled. Some one imitated

+a referee's whistle and a falsetto voice called: "Third down and a yard

+to gain!"

+

+Jack found himself seated next to a group of second-nine men. The

+little freshman Clover was his immediate neighbor, and beyond that

+youth sat Showell, the fellow whom Jack had fooled with his pitching on

+that first day of outdoor practise. They had met but seldom since then,

+but Showell had never missed an opportunity to annoy Jack, if possible,

+or, failing that, to show his dislike. His annoyances usually took the

+form of allusions to the incident at the river, plain enough, yet so

+petty that Jack never regarded them as worth noticing. Clover greeted

+Jack with evident pleasure. The latter returned his greeting and then

+nodded to the fellows farther along. Only Showell failed to respond.

+Turning to the man on the other side of him he asked:

+

+"Been down to the river lately?"

+

+"Oh, cut it out," growled his neighbor, scowling at him.

+

+"Cut what out?" asked Showell, pretending great bewilderment. "The

+river?"

+

+"Let him alone, can't you?" whispered the other.

+

+"If you can't, take your old jokes somewhere else," advised Clover.

+Jack had not missed any of it, and for the first time Showell's

+pleasantries aroused his anger.

+

+"What's the matter with you dubs?" Showell asked, grinning. "Can't I

+talk about the river? All right, then, I'll talk about the weather.

+Nice, dry evening, isn't it? Any of you fellows get your feet wet?"

+

+Jack touched Clover on the shoulder. "Do you mind changing seats with

+me?" he asked. Clover looked doubtful a moment; then he got up and Jack

+slipped along into his place. Showell watched the proceedings with

+surprise, and when he found Jack beside him turned his gaze uneasily

+ahead and for the rest of the evening attempted to look unconscious of

+the other's presence. But, what with the grins and whispering of his

+friends, it is doubtful if he enjoyed himself.

+

+The senior president made his little speech and introduced the dean.

+The latter, who never was much of an orator, said just what everybody

+knew he would say, and was succeeded by Patterson, the manager.

+Patterson explained the needs of the Baseball Association, and

+Professor Nast, chairman of the Athletic Committee, followed and urged

+the students to come to the support of the team. Neither his remarks

+nor Patterson's awakened any enthusiasm, and the cheers which followed

+were plainly to order. Some one at the rear of the hall started a

+football song and one by one the audience took up the refrain. Perkins,

+who had stepped to the front of the platform, paused and glanced

+inquiringly at the head coach. The latter shook his head and Joe turned

+away again.

+

+"Let them sing," whispered Hanson. "It'll warm them up."

+

+But as soon as it was discovered that there was no opposition the

+singing died away. King was on his feet then, calling for cheers for

+Captain Perkins. They were given loudly enough, but lacked spontaneity.

+Joe's speech was short, but had the right ring, and several allusions

+to past successes of the nine and future victories awakened applause.

+But when he had taken his seat again and the cheering, in spite of

+the efforts of King and Bissell and others of the team, had ceased,

+it was evident that the meeting was bound to be a flat failure unless

+something was done to wake it up.

+

+Hanson, who was down as the next speaker, called Joe to him, and for a

+minute they whispered together. Then Joe crossed the stage and spoke to

+Anthony. At the back of the room there was a perceptible impatience;

+several fellows had already tiptoed out, and there was much scraping of

+feet. Joe heard it and held up his hand. Then Anthony lifted himself

+up out of the ridiculously small chair in which he had been seated and

+moved awkwardly to the front of the platform. Instantly there was the

+sound of clapping, succeeded by the cry of "A--a--ay, Tidball!" Anthony

+settled his spectacles on his nose and thrust his big hands into his

+trouser's pockets.

+

+"Good old Tidball!" cried some one; the remark summoned laughter and

+clapping; men on their feet and edging toward the door paused and

+turned back; those who had kept their seats settled themselves more

+comfortably and looked expectant. The senior class president jumped to

+his feet and called for a cheer, and the response was encouragingly

+hearty. Joe threw a satisfied glance at Hanson and the latter nodded.

+The tumult died down and Anthony, who had been facing the gathering

+with calm and serious countenance, began to speak.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XV

+

+ANTHONY ON BASEBALL

+

+

+"Well," commenced Anthony, in his even, deliberate drawl, "you had your

+chance to get out, and didn't take it. I guess you're in for it. I've

+been requested to speak to you about baseball. I told Captain Perkins

+that I didn't know a baseball from a frozen turnip, but he said that

+made it all the better; that if I didn't know what I was talking about

+you would realize that I was absolutely unprejudiced and my words would

+carry more weight. I said, 'How are you going to get the fellows to

+listen to me?' He said, 'We'll lock the doors.' I guess they're locked."

+

+Half his audience turned to look, and the rest laughed.

+

+"Anyhow," Anthony continued, "he kept his part of the agreement, and

+so I'll have to keep mine. I've said frankly that I know nothing about

+baseball, and I hope that you will all pardon any mistakes I may

+make in discussing the subject. I never saw but one game, and after

+it was over I knew less about it than I did before. A fellow I knew

+played--well, I don't know just what he did play; most of the time he

+danced around a bag of salt or something that some one had left out on

+the grass. There were three of those bags, and his was the one on the

+southeast corner. When the game was over he asked me how I liked it. I

+said, 'It looks to me like a good game for a lunatic asylum.' He said

+I showed ignorance; that it was the best game in the world, and just

+full up and slopping over with science. I didn't argue with him. But

+I've always thought that if I had to play baseball I'd choose to be the

+fellow that wears a black alpaca coat and does the talking. Seems to me

+he's the only one that remains sane. I asked my friend if he was the

+keeper; he said no, he was the umpire."

+

+By this time the laughter was almost continuous, but Anthony's

+expression of calm gravity remained unbroken. At times he appeared

+surprised and disturbed by the bursts of laughter; and a small freshman

+in the front row toppled out of his seat and had to be thumped on the

+back. Even the dean was chuckling.

+

+"Well, science has always been a weak point with me, and I guess that's

+why I'm not able to understand the science of hitting a ball with a

+wagon-spoke and running over salt-bags. But I'm not so narrow-minded

+as to affirm that because I can't see the science it isn't there.

+You've all heard about Abraham Lincoln and the book-agent, I guess.

+The book-agent wanted him to write a testimonial for his book. Lincoln

+wrote it. It ran something like this: 'Any person who likes this kind

+of a book will find this just the kind of a book he likes.' Well,

+that's about my idea of baseball; anybody who likes that kind of a game

+will find baseball just the kind of a game he likes.

+

+"Now, they tell me that down at Robinson they've found an old

+wagon-wheel, cut the fingers off a pair of kid gloves, bought a wire

+bird-cage, and started a baseball club. All right. Let 'em. There are

+other wheels and more gloves and another bird-cage, I guess. Captain

+Perkins says he has a club, too. I've never seen it, but I don't doubt

+his word; any man with Titian hair tells the truth. He says he keeps it

+out at the field. From what I've seen of baseball clubs I think that's

+a good, safe place. I hope, however, that he locks the gates when he

+leaves 'em. But Captain Perkins tells me that he has the finest kind of

+a baseball club that ever gibbered, and he offers to bet me a suspender

+buckle against a pants button that his club can knock the spots off of

+any other club, and especially the Robinson club. I'm not a betting

+man, and so I let him boast.

+

+"And after he'd boasted until he'd tired himself out he went on to say

+that baseball clubs were like any other aggregation of mortals; that

+they have to be clothed and fed, and, moreover, when they go away to

+mingle with other clubs they have to have their railway fare paid.

+Captain Perkins, as I've said once already, is a truthful man, and so

+I don't see but that we've got to believe him. He says that his club

+hasn't any money; that if it doesn't get some money it will grow pale

+and thin and emaciated, and won't be able to run around the salt-bags

+as violently as the Robinson club; in which case the keeper--I mean the

+umpire--will give the game to Robinson. Well, now, what's to be done?

+Are we to stand idly by with our hands in our pockets and see Robinson

+walk off with a game that is really our property? Or are we to take

+our hands out of our pockets, with the fingers closed, and jingle some

+coins into the collection-box?

+

+"I'm not a baseball enthusiast, as I've acknowledged, but I am an

+Erskine enthusiast, fellows. Perkins says we ought to beat Robinson at

+baseball. I say let's do it! I say let's beat Robinson at everything.

+If anybody will start a parchesi club I'll go along and stand by and

+yell while they down the Robinson parchesi club. That's what Providence

+made Robinson for--to be beaten. Providence looked over the situation

+and said: 'There's Erskine, with nothing to beat.' Then Providence made

+Robinson. And we started in and beat her. And we've been beating her

+ever since--when she hasn't beaten us.

+

+"I've done a whole lot of talking here this evening, and I guess you're

+all tired of it." (There was loud and continued dissent at this point,

+interspersed with cries of "Good old Tidball!") "But I promised to

+talk, and I like to give good measure. But the time for talking is

+about up. Mr. Hanson has something to say to you, and as he knows what

+he's going to talk about, whereas I don't know what I'm talking about,

+I guess I'd better stop and give him a show. But before I stop I want

+to point out a self-evident fact, fellows. You can't win from Robinson

+without a baseball team, and you can't have a baseball team unless

+you dig down in your pockets and pay up. Manager Patterson says the

+Baseball Association needs the sum of six hundred dollars. Well, let's

+give it to 'em. Any fellow here to-night who thinks a victory over

+Robinson isn't worth six hundred dollars is invited to stand up and

+walk out; we'll unlock the door for him. Six hundred dollars means only

+about one dollar for each fellow. I am requested to state that after

+Mr. Hanson has spoken his piece a few of the best-looking men among us

+will pass through the audience with small cards upon which every man

+is asked to write his name and the amount he is willing to contribute

+to secure a victory over Robinson that will make last year's score

+look like an infinitesimal fraction. If some one will go through the

+motions, I'd like to propose three long Erskines, three times three and

+three long Erskines for the nine."

+

+Anthony bowed and sat down. The senior class president sprang to his

+feet, and the next moment the hall was thunderous with the mighty

+cheers that followed his "One, two, three!" Then came calls of

+"Tidball! Tidball!" and again the slogan was taken up. It was fully

+five minutes ere the head coach arose. And when he in turn stood at the

+platform's edge the cheers began once more, for enthusiasm reigned at

+last.

+

+Hanson realized that further speechmaking was idle and confined his

+remarks to an indorsement of what Anthony had said. The distribution

+of blank slips of paper had already begun and his audience paid but

+little attention to his words, although it applauded good-naturedly.

+When he had ended, promising on behalf of the team, and in return for

+the support of the college, the best efforts of players and coaches,

+confusion reigned supreme. Pencils and fountain pens were passed hither

+and thither, jokes were bandied, songs were sung, and the tumult

+increased with the pushing aside of chairs and the scraping of feet as

+the meeting began to break up. But, though some left as soon as they

+had filled out their pledges, the greater number flocked into noisy

+groups and awaited the announcement of the result.

+

+At length, Professor Nast accepted the slip of paper handed him by

+Patterson and advanced to the edge of the platform. There, he raised

+a hand for attention, and at the same time glanced at the figures.

+An expression of incredulity overspread his face, and he turned an

+inquiring look upon the manager. The latter smiled and nodded, as

+though to dispel the professor's doubts. The hubbub died away, and the

+professor faced the meeting again.

+

+"I am asked," he said, "to announce the result of the--ah--subscription.

+Where every one has responded so promptly and so heartily to the appeal

+in behalf of the association, it would be, perhaps, unfair to give the

+names of any who have been exceptionally generous. But without doing

+so it remains a pleasant--ah--privilege to state that among the

+subscriptions there is one of fifty dollars----"

+

+Loud applause greeted this announcement, and fellows of notoriously

+empty pocket-books were accused by their friends of being the unnamed

+benefactor, and invariably acknowledged the impeachment with profuse

+expressions of modesty.

+

+"Three of twenty-five dollars," continued the professor, "six of ten

+dollars, seventeen of five dollars, and many of two dollars and over.

+The total subscription, strange as it may seem, reaches the sum of five

+hundred and ninety-nine dollars, one dollar less than the amount asked

+for!"

+

+There was a moment of silent surprise. Then, from somewhere at the left

+of the room, a voice cried: "Here you are, then!" and something went

+spinning through the air. The head coach leaped forward, caught it

+deftly, and held it aloft. It was a shining silver dollar.

+

+"Thank you," he said.

+

+The incident tickled the throng, and cheers and laughter struggled for

+supremacy. Jack pushed his way to the door, and remained there waiting

+for Anthony, one hand groping lonesomely in a trouser pocket where a

+minute or two before had snuggled his last coin.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVI

+

+JACK COURTS THE MUSE

+

+

+April passed into May, and uncertain skies gave way to placid expanses

+of blue, whereon soft fluffs of white moved slowly, blown by warm and

+gentle winds. Down at the boat-house, bare-legged and bare-headed, men

+filed across the floats, bearing the slender, glinting shells, or,

+with hands on oars, bent and unbent in unison to the sharp commands of

+important and diminutive coxswains; on the newly rolled cinder-track

+other men sped or jogged, heads well back and knees high, with white

+trunks fluttering in the breeze; in front of the stand the jumpers and

+pole-vaulters plumped themselves into the freshly spaded loam; on the

+diamond, brilliantly green in its carpet of carefully tended turf, the

+players darted hither and thither amid the crack of batted ball and the

+cries of coaches.

+

+By the beginning of the second week in May, baseball affairs had

+assumed a more encouraging look. The training-table had taken on

+six more men--among them Showell and Clover--and the unsuccessful

+candidates had gone to the freshmen team or found other branches

+of athletics to interest them. Erskine had played eight games, had

+won six, tied one, and lost one. What was practically a preliminary

+season was well-nigh over and with the middle of the month the serious

+contests would begin.

+

+Meanwhile, Jack had found himself. After a vicarious existence as

+a general outfield substitute, he had settled down as substitute

+second-baseman, a position which he had never attempted hitherto, but

+one which he took to in a way that vindicated his right to it. He

+showed that he possessed the three essentials of a good second-baseman:

+coolness, quickness, and judgment. With the exception of third base,

+second is the most difficult of the infield positions; it has been

+called the "keystone of the infield," and that very aptly. So far

+as handling the ball is concerned--that is, catching, stopping,

+or throwing--second-baseman has no harder work than shortstop or

+third-baseman; it is in studying the batsman that he encounters his

+difficulties.

+

+Jack started in with a good knowledge of the fundamentals of baseball

+and took kindly to coaching. Gradually he acquired the intuitive sense

+which enabled him to tell where the ball was going before it had left

+the bat, and to govern himself accordingly. He learned that a nine's

+success depends upon team-work and not upon individual brilliancy, and

+to control his zeal; to anticipate the shortstop's movements and to

+know, without looking, where that player and the third-baseman were;

+to keep always in mind that the best policy is to put out the runner

+nearest home; and much more besides.

+

+With a definite position to try for, Jack found it much easier to put

+every effort into playing. Even the fact that "Wally" Stiles, the first

+choice for second-baseman, would in all likelihood play out the big

+games, those with Harvard, Artmouth, and Robinson, did not trouble him.

+There would be other games which, if less important, were well worth

+winning, and in those he would probably take part.

+

+So Jack put his whole mind into learning his position, studying its

+possibilities, developing an eighth sense, which enabled him time and

+again to judge almost with exactitude in what direction, and how far,

+the ball, scarcely away from the bat, was going, and learning, too,

+to "size up" a batsman's prowess from the way he stood and looked and

+swung his stick. I have said that he possessed a good knowledge of

+the fundamentals of the game when he started in; but there were still

+things to learn which his baseball education had not taught, such

+little niceties as stopping grounders with his feet together so that,

+in case of a miss, the ball could not go between his legs, and, after

+catching or stopping a ball, to start at once toward the point whither

+the ball was to be thrown instead of standing still, so that by the

+time he had gathered himself for the throw the distance for the ball to

+travel had been lessened; little things these, but of the sort that win

+or lose a game.

+

+One thing that had a deal to do with Jack's ability to put his heart

+into his work on the diamond was the attitude of the other players

+toward him. Had the old scarcely concealed contempt and dislike been

+manifested he could never have shown up as varsity material. But that

+was past. In the minds of most of the fellows time had dimmed the

+memory of the incident at the river, now nearly three months ago, and

+Jack's attitude and behavior of late had aided.

+

+For a while the neutrality observed by Gilberth made him suspicious

+that the pitcher was only husbanding his powers of annoyance in order

+to indulge in some more than usually brutal expression of contempt.

+But, as time went by, Jack was forced to conclude that hostilities from

+that source were over. At length, the neutrality was succeeded by a

+show of friendliness. It was impossible to practise together day after

+day without an occasional word or two, and Jack and Tracy soon found

+themselves in the habit of greeting each other when they met, very

+ceremoniously, to be sure, and of sometimes exchanging observations

+on the bench much after the manner of slight acquaintances who find

+themselves thrown together at a party. Jack was very glad. The old

+thirst for vengeance on his enemies had wasted perceptibly under the

+influence of congenial companionship, and he was ready to cry quits.

+Just what Tracy's sentiments were at this time it is hard to say; it is

+doubtful if he knew himself.

+

+He had made up his mind to let Jack alone, and was doing it. Only one

+thing troubled him, and that was the fear that Anthony Tidball might

+think that his course was the result of the other's threats. And it is

+only fair to state on behalf of Tracy's physical courage that such was

+not the case. Joe Perkins's remonstrances had borne weight, and when,

+shortly after Anthony's visit, Professor White had added his request,

+Tracy had decided that, after all, he had possibly mistaken the

+sentiment of the college. Professor White had said to him very much the

+same things that Joe had said, but he had put them more convincingly.

+He knew Tracy, and did not make the mistake of ruffling his temper; on

+the contrary, when he had left, Tracy felt that there was one person at

+Erskine who understood him. And for the sake of that person and of Joe

+he would do as they asked him.

+

+Professor White's efforts in Jack's behalf were not limited to the

+talk with Tracy. He saw Joe Perkins and Hanson and King and several

+others with whom Jack came in daily contact and asked for the boy fair

+treatment. And he encouraged Jack to visit him and, when the latter did

+so, used every effort to hearten him. On the whole, it is safe to say

+that to the professor belonged a greater part of the credit for the

+betterment of the boy's condition. Such was the state of affairs when,

+on a certain Saturday evening, about the middle of the month, Jack and

+Anthony sat talking on the edge of Mrs. Dorlon's porch.

+

+Anthony had washed up his supper dishes and Jack had just strolled

+back from dinner at the training-table. The moon, well into its first

+quarter, was sailing in a clear sky over the tops of the elms in the

+yard. The evening was musical with the hum and whirr of early insects

+and the varied sounds from open windows. Somewhere farther up the curve

+of Elm Street an uncertain hand was coaxing the strains of Mandalay

+from a guitar, and now and then the faint music of a piano floated

+across from Walton Hall. Anthony had lighted his pipe and, with its

+bowl aglow in the dusk, was leaning against a pillar, one knee tucked

+up under his chin. Jack sat a yard away, his hands in his pockets,

+staring up at the moon.

+

+"Did you ever write poetry, Anthony?" he asked suddenly.

+

+"No." Anthony sucked reflectively at the pipe and shook his head

+slowly. "No, I've had the measles and whooping-cough and scarlatina,

+but I've never had poetry yet. Of course, I've tried my hand at blank

+verse in Latin, but it wasn't poetry; even the instructor acknowledged

+that."

+

+"Oh, I meant just plain every-day poetry, you know," Jack explained. "I

+thought if you had you could tell me something about it."

+

+"Well, I didn't say that I didn't know poetry when I saw it," answered

+Anthony. "I've read a good deal of it, you see. What do you want to

+know?"

+

+"I want to know whether you have to have all your lines rhyme."

+

+"Depends, I guess. What are you going to do, anyway, turn into a poet?"

+

+"No, only I thought I'd try my hand at writing some verses for the

+fellows to sing at the games, you know. The Purple says we ought to

+have some new songs for the Robinson game."

+

+"Oh. Well, now, from what I've seen of such things it doesn't matter

+any whether lines rhyme or don't rhyme, I should say. As long as the

+words fit the music the rhymes just hump along as best they can. Have

+you written anything yet?"

+

+"N--no, not exactly," answered Jack cautiously. "I've got an idea, but

+I didn't quite know about rhyming. Of course, all the poetry you read

+rhymes all through, like Tennyson, or else it doesn't rhyme at all,

+like Milton. What I was wondering was whether it was all right to just

+rhyme now and then, you know, when you could, and not bother about it

+when you--you can't. What do you think?"

+

+"Oh, I'd just do the best I could and not worry," answered the other

+gravely. "The--hum--sentiment seems to be the most important thing

+about college songs."

+

+"Yes, I suppose so. It's funny how few rhymes there are when you come

+to look for them," said Jack thoughtfully. "Now there's 'purple'; I

+can't find anything to rhyme with that."

+

+"Purple? Now that does sound difficult. Let's see; I guess 'turtle'

+wouldn't do, eh?"

+

+"I'm afraid not. I've tried everything. I thought maybe it wouldn't

+matter if it didn't rhyme."

+

+"Don't believe it will. Let's hear what you got."

+

+"Oh, it isn't anything much," answered Jack modestly. "It--it goes to

+the tune of 'Hail, Columbia!' you know."

+

+"All right; sing it if you'd rather."

+

+"I can't sing; I'll just say it. It--it begins like this:

+

+    Hail to Erskine, conq'ring band!

+    Firm together we will stand!

+    While the battle rages high

+    We will fight until the last!

+    Underneath the purple banner we

+    Will live or die for victory!

+

+What--what do you think of it?"

+

+"Well, if you want my honest opinion," replied Anthony, "I think it's

+too classic, Jack. Seems to me what you want in those kind of songs is

+a lot of 'rah, rah, hullabaloo!' And I don't believe 'Hail, Columbia!'

+is a good tune; seems too jerky. Course, I'm not an authority, and

+maybe I'm mistaken. But if I were you I'd try again; get more swing

+into it. I've always thought 'John Brown's Body' was the best tune to

+set football songs and such things to. Of course, it's older than the

+hills and has been used by every college from Maine to Mexico, but that

+doesn't matter if you get some good words. I'd forget about the rhymes

+at first; just find some lines that'll swing along, you know; kind of

+sing themselves; afterward, you can go back and tuck a rhyme in here

+and there. Try it."

+

+"I guess I will. I wasn't just satisfied with that 'Hail, Columbia!'

+one, but I didn't know what ailed it. I thought maybe it was because I

+couldn't find a rhyme for 'high.' There was 'die,' but I'd used that in

+the last line, you see."

+

+"I see." Anthony knocked the ashes from his pipe and stretched himself.

+"Guess I'll have to go up and do some studying," he said.

+

+"Wait a minute," Jack pleaded. "There's another thing I wanted to ask

+about. Is it hard to learn to swim?"

+

+"Never learned, Jack, and can't say from experience. But from what I've

+seen I'd say it was blamed hard."

+

+"Never learned! But I thought----"

+

+"It was like this with me. When I was about knee high to a grasshopper

+I went in wading and saw my daddy out in a dory about fifty feet from

+shore. So I went out to him. They say I didn't have much breath left

+when they pulled me in; I don't remember. I guess I swam, though; if I

+didn't I don't know how I got there. Anyhow, after that I knew how all

+right."

+

+"Just imagine," mused Jack. "I know I couldn't do that, but I do want

+to learn. Do you think I could?"

+

+"Course you could, but I guess it would take time. If you want me to

+help, I'll do it."

+

+"Will you, really?" exclaimed the other. "Glory! that will be fine! I

+wanted to ask you, but didn't quite like to; I've been so much of a

+bother to you already."

+

+"Oh, get out. We'll go down to the river and find a place where it's

+not too deep; I think I know of one. The water'll be plaguy cold,

+though, this early. Want to wait a while longer?"

+

+"No, I want to begin right off--before my courage fails me; you know,

+I'm an awful fool about water, Anthony."

+

+"Because you don't understand it. Water won't hurt you if you know what

+to do."

+

+"And you won't mind if--if I'm a bit scary at first?"

+

+"No, I won't mind. If you say you want me to teach you to swim, I'll do

+it if I have to throw you in the water and hold you there. Do you?"

+

+Jack took a long breath and looked hard at Anthony's face in the

+moonlight. What he saw evidently reassured him, for after a pause he

+said faintly:

+

+"Y--yes!"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVII

+

+ERSKINE _VS._ HARVARD

+

+

+The nine took its first long trip when it journeyed to Cambridge

+and played Harvard in a warm drizzle of rain that made the ball

+slippery and hard to hold, and set the players to steaming like so

+many tea-kettles. Erskine met her second defeat of the season that

+afternoon. She had an attack of the stage-fright usual to the teams of

+lesser colleges when confronting those of the "big four," and it lasted

+until the fifth inning, when, with the score 9 to 0 in her favor,

+Harvard's pitcher slumped and allowed the bases to fill for the first

+time during the contest.

+

+Erskine awakened, then, to the fact that her opponents were only human

+beings, after all, and not supernatural personages protected by the

+gods, a fact which Hanson had been seeking to convince them of all day

+long, but without success. With bases full, one man out, and Bissell at

+bat, there seemed no reason why the Purple should not place a tally

+in her empty column. This was evidently the view that Bissell himself

+took, for after having two strikes and two balls called on him, he

+found what he wanted and drove it hard and straight between first and

+second. Gilberth scored, but Billings was caught out at the plate.

+Motter reached third and Bissell went to second. Hanson whispered to

+Lowe as he selected his bat. Harvard shortened field.

+

+"Last man!" called the crimson-legged first-baseman.

+

+"Last man!" echoed the shortstop.

+

+Lowe's first attempt at a bunt missed fire and the umpire called a

+strike on him. Then came two balls, each an enticing and deceptive

+drop. Lowe was the last man on the batting list, but if he wasn't much

+of a hitter he at least was capable of obeying orders. He watched

+the balls go by in a disinterested manner that was beautiful to see.

+Then came another strike, and for an instant his round, freckled face

+expressed uneasiness. The Harvard pitcher decided to end the half, and

+threw straight over base. Lowe shortened his bat a trifle and found the

+ball, and the next moment both were going toward first base, the ball

+very slowly, Lowe about as rapidly as he ever moved in his life.

+

+It was the pitcher's ball, and the pitcher ran for it. Motter, at

+third, started pell-mell for home, only to stop as suddenly and dive

+back to the bag. But the pitcher knew better than to throw there, and

+as soon as Motter had turned he sped the ball to first. But he had

+delayed an instant too long, and the umpire dropped his hand in the

+direction of Lowe, who, with both feet planted firmly on the bag, was

+obeying Perkins's repeated command to "Hold it, Ted!" It was a close

+decision, but there was no reason to judge it as unfair, and the game

+went on with the bases again filled and Erskine's heavy batters up.

+

+Joe Perkins stepped to the plate, gripped his bat, and looked over

+the field. Shortstop was covering second, and the infield was playing

+close. Out toward the corner of the Carey building the right-fielder

+was stepping back. Erskine's captain had already sent two long flies

+into his territory, and it wouldn't do to take risks. Joe looked with

+longing eyes upon a stretch of undefended territory behind first base

+and out of reach of right-fielder. If he could bring a low fly down

+there it was safe for another tally. But the pitcher had himself in

+hand again. He was more than usually deliberate and the first delivery

+didn't lend encouragement to Joe's hopes, for although that youth,

+staggering away from the base, sought to impress the umpire with the

+fact that the ball had gone well inside of the plate, that astute,

+black-capped person called "Strike!"

+

+The three or four hundred students who, with raincoats and umbrellas,

+were braving the discomforting drizzle, applauded. Jack, huddled

+between Clover and Northup on the bench in the lee of the west stand,

+sighed and took his hand from the folds of his sweater to beat them

+anxiously on his knees. Clover wiped the rain from his cheek and turned.

+

+"We could use a home run, couldn't we?"

+

+"You might as well talk about winning the game," growled Northup, who

+had overheard. "That pitcher hasn't given any one a home run yet this

+season, and you can bet he isn't going to present us with one."

+

+"Ball!" droned the umpire.

+

+"Well, I'll be satisfied with a hit," sighed Jack.

+

+"You're wise," Northup answered with a grin. "There it is again," he

+muttered then, as Joe, reaching for an outshoot, swung in the air and

+stepped back to tap the plate with his bat and look exasperated.

+

+"Say, doesn't that make you mad," asked Clover, "to reach for something

+when you know you shouldn't, and then get fooled? I'll bet Cap could

+bite nails now!"

+

+But Joe got over his annoyance the next instant, and gave his attention

+to the ball. When it had passed he sighed with relief and silently

+gave thanks to the little red-faced umpire. It was now two strikes and

+two balls. Back of first and third King and Gilberth were coaching

+frantically:

+

+"Two out, Ted! Play off! Play away off!"

+

+"Run on anything, Teddy! Two gone! Now! _Now!_ NOW!"

+

+"With two Teds on bases," said Northup, "it seems as though something

+might happen."

+

+"Two? Is Lowe's name Ted?"

+

+"Yes, Theodore Coveney Lowe, Esquire, is the gentleman's full-- _Hey!_"

+Northup was on his feet, and a second later the bench was empty. Ten

+purple-stockinged maniacs danced and shrieked over the sopping turf,

+waving sweaters and caps. Motter and Bissell and Lowe were racing home

+almost in a bunch. Joe Perkins was speeding for second. He had put the

+ball where he wanted it, well over first-baseman's head, and yards and

+yards in front of right-fielder; had placed it there as carefully as

+though he had walked across the diamond and dropped it exactly in the

+middle of the uncovered territory.

+

+First-baseman started back for it, and the pitcher ran to cover first.

+But right-field was racing in, and it was that player who reached

+the ball first and fielded it home just too late to catch Lowe at the

+plate. Then the sphere flew back to second, but Joe, hearkening to the

+coaching, slid across the brown mud and got his fingers on a corner of

+the bag in plenty of time.

+

+There followed a pause in the progress of the game while Harvard's

+pitcher and her captain tried to convince the umpire that Lowe had not

+touched second base in his journey toward home. In that interim the

+little band of Erskine players and substitutes gathered together and

+cheered, with the rain falling into their wide-open mouths, until the

+Harvard stand applauded vigorously.

+

+"Four to nine!" yelled Knox. "We can beat them yet!"

+

+But King, with desperate purpose written eloquently over his face, went

+to bat and ingloriously fouled out to third-baseman, and the half was

+over. Erskine never came near to scoring again, although, now that the

+ice was broken, every man felt capable of doing wonderful things, and

+tried his best to accomplish them. The difficulty was with the Harvard

+team, and notably the Harvard pitcher; they objected. But if Erskine

+was not able to add further tallies to her score, she, at least, held

+her opponents down to two more runs, Gilberth pitching a remarkable

+game, and what had looked for a time like an overwhelming defeat

+resolved itself into a creditable showing for the Purple.

+

+Jack didn't get into the game for an instant, nor, in fact, did any of

+the substitutes. But, as he had scarcely hoped to do so, he was not

+greatly disappointed. After the game was over the team went back to

+Boston inside and outside a stage-coach, laughing, joking, cheering now

+and then, and, on the whole, very well pleased with themselves. Hanson

+didn't see fit to dampen their enthusiasm by reminding them of the

+faults which had been plentifully in evidence, but reserved his cold

+water for the next day. They had dinner at a hotel. In the course of

+the meal, King called across the table to Joe:

+

+"I say, we've got old Tidball to thank for this feed, haven't we? If it

+hadn't been for that speech of his we'd never have had enough money in

+the treasury to buy sandwiches."

+

+"I guess that's so," answered the captain.

+

+"You fellows needn't think, though," cautioned Patterson, "that you're

+going to get this sort of thing every trip."

+

+There was a groan.

+

+"Put him out!" called Gilberth.

+

+"Down with the manager!" cried King.

+

+"I wish," said Jack to Motter, who sat at his left, "that I could take

+some of this dinner back to Tidball. I don't believe he ever had a real

+good dinner in all his life!"

+

+"Guess you're right," Motter laughed. "Anyway, he doesn't look as

+though he ever had!"

+

+Patterson distributed tickets to one of the theaters, and the men were

+cautioned to be back at the hotel promptly at eleven in order to take

+the midnight train for home.

+

+"The management doesn't pay for these, does it?" Jack asked.

+

+"Thunder, no!" answered Motter. "The theater gives them to us, and

+advertises the fact that we're going to be there; calls it 'Erskine

+night.' We're on show, as it were. Some of the Harvard team are going,

+too. You needn't fear that Patterson's going to buy theater seats for

+us; you're lucky if you get him to pay your car-fare to the station!"

+

+Jack's experience of theaters was extremely limited, and he enjoyed

+himself thoroughly all the evening. The team occupied two big boxes at

+the left of the stage, while across the house the corresponding boxes

+were filled with members of the Harvard team. There was some cheering

+on the part of the Purple's supporters, but neither Hanson nor Joe

+encouraged it.

+

+"Shut that up," begged the latter, once. "They'll think we're a prep.

+school!"

+

+At half past eleven they got into a train at North Station and went

+promptly to sleep, two in a berth, and knew little of events until they

+were roused out in the early morning at Centerport.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XVIII

+

+JACK AT SECOND

+

+

+Half a mile beyond Warrener's Grove, the wooded bluff at the end of

+Murdoch Street, the river makes in the shore an indentation which is

+known as the Cove. It is not an attractive body of water. At some time

+in the past there was a brick-yard there, and even yet the remains of

+two weather-beaten sheds and a couple of high troughs in which the clay

+was mixed may be seen. During a spring freshet the river went over its

+banks and flowed into the pits left by the excavations. Later, the

+water and the frost connected the stagnant pond with the river; rushes

+gained foothold in the clay bottom and the old quarry took on the

+appearance of a natural cove. Save in one or two places the depth is

+but slight, and, in consequence, the Cove offers warmer bathing in the

+spring than does the river. On the side nearest the railroad there is a

+stretch of gradually shallowing water that answers all the purposes of

+a beach. It was here, then, that Anthony and Jack, during the latter

+part of May, came almost every morning, and, exchanging their clothes

+for gymnasium trunks, played the parts of teacher and pupil.

+

+The first time that Jack found the cold water lapping his knees he went

+pale with terror, and would have fled ignominiously had not Anthony

+seized and encouraged him. In the end, he allowed the other to persuade

+him to remain where he was and, after gingerly splashing himself with

+water, watch his teacher a few yards beyond illustrate the method of

+swimming. Anthony realized that he had a task before him that required

+a deal of diplomacy, and he carefully avoided saying or doing anything

+to increase Jack's dread of the water.

+

+After four lessons Jack had gone the length of immersing himself and,

+held tightly by Anthony, had essayed a few wild strokes with arms and

+legs. Anthony strove to teach confidence first of all, and it was not

+until Jack could allow him away from his side that Anthony set about

+the easier part of his task. As soon as Jack could struggle for a few

+strokes through the water Anthony taught him to float. And it was not

+until Jack could float in every possible position that the swimming

+lessons were resumed. Then progress was rapid. By the middle of June

+Jack could swim out to a rush-covered raft which had been anchored

+about a hundred feet from shore by enterprising duck-hunters. At first

+Anthony kept beside him; later, they had races in which Anthony left

+Jack half-way to the goal; in the end, Jack found courage to swim to

+the raft and back by himself. But, as I have said, that was not until

+June was half over, and before that other things had happened.

+

+It was on the fourth of the month, a Wednesday, that Jack, for the

+first time, played a game through as second-baseman. Erskine's

+opponents were the Dexter nine, a hard-hitting aggregation of

+preparatory schoolboys, and to meet them Hanson and Perkins put in a

+team largely composed of substitutes. This team, in batting order, was

+as follows:

+

+    Perkins, catcher.

+    King, pitcher.

+    Northup, right-field.

+    Mears, first base.

+    Weatherby, second base.

+    Smith, third base.

+    Clover, shortstop.

+    Lowe, left-field.

+    Riseman, center-field.

+

+The last six, with the exception of Lowe, were substitutes, and before

+the game was over Lowe, too, had been replaced, Showell going in for

+him. Jack's playing that afternoon raised his stock fully a hundred

+per cent. He was in fine fettle--he had never felt better in his life

+than he had since he began his morning dips in the cold waters of the

+Cove--and covered the second of what Anthony had called the salt-bags

+in a manner that opened the eyes of his companions and caused "Wally"

+Styles much uneasiness. His batting, too, was as good as his fielding;

+he had the honor of making the first hit and the first run for Erskine,

+and was the only man on the team that afternoon, with the exception

+of Perkins, who knocked out a home run in the sixth, able to hit

+the Dexter pitcher for more than one base. In the fifth inning his

+three-bagger was clean and timely, bringing in two runs and placing him

+where he was able to score a minute after on a passed ball.

+

+Dexter made things extremely interesting for a while in the seventh

+inning, getting in two runs and filling the bases again directly

+afterward. It was Jack, then, who, in a measure, saved the day. With

+the bags all occupied, Dexter's catcher went to bat and lined out a hot

+ball just to the right of King. There was one out. King got one hand

+on the ball, but failed to stop it. Jack, who had run forward to back

+him up, found the ball in the air and threw quickly and true to the

+plate in time to put out the runner. Then Perkins, without more than a

+second's pause, returned it to Jack, who was again covering second, and

+Jack found the Dexter catcher two feet off base.

+

+The game ended with the score 5 to 2, and of those five tallies two

+were opposite Jack's name. The other three belonged to Perkins and

+Northup. Jack's record that day included four put-outs and five

+assists, and held no errors. Perhaps it was the consciousness of having

+done a good afternoon's work that put him in such a state of elation

+that composing verse alone seemed to satisfy him. When half past

+seven arrived and he had not appeared in Anthony's room, Anthony went

+in search of him and discovered him curled up in a ball on his bed,

+laboring with pencil and pad and flushed cheeks.

+

+"I've got it!" cried Jack.

+

+"Got what?" asked Anthony.

+

+"The song! Listen!" Jack squirmed about on the creaking cot until he

+had his back against the wall. Then he waved his pad triumphantly over

+his head. "It goes to the tune of 'John Brown's Body'; you suggested

+that, you know; and I didn't have any trouble at all; and the rhymes

+are all right, too, I think! Now, then!" And Jack, beating time with

+his pencil, recited sonorously his verses:

+

+    "Robinson is wavering, her pride's about to fall;

+     Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;

+     Erskine is the winner, for her team's the best of all;

+           Oh, poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!

+

+    "Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;

+     Purple are the banners that the conq'ring heroes wave;

+     Purple are the violets above the lonely grave

+           Of poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!"

+

+"Fine!" cried Anthony. "That's the sort of thing! Let's see it." He

+took the paper and, turning it to the light, began to hum, then sing

+the words to the old marching song, nodding his head in time to the

+music. Anthony had about as much melody in his voice as a raven, but

+Jack, watching and listening eagerly from the bed, thought he sang

+beautifully, and was enormously pleased with the production. When the

+final refrain was reached he joined his own voice, rocking back and

+forth in ecstasy, and the concert ended in a final triumphant burst of

+mel-- Well, no, not melody; let us say sound.

+

+"Do you like it?" Jack asked, as eager for praise of his lines as any

+poet.

+

+"Great!" Anthony answered. "And I should think it would do for a

+football song, too, wouldn't it?"

+

+"Would it?" cried Jack. "Yes, I believe it would! That's fine, isn't

+it? Of course, I don't want you to think I'm stuck up, Anthony, but I

+really think it's better than any that the Purple has published yet.

+What do you say?"

+

+"Well, I haven't read many of 'em; should think it might be, though.

+Better send it in right off, so it'll be in time for the next issue,

+eh?"

+

+"Yes, I'm going to mail it to-night; as soon as I make a good copy."

+Then, after a moment's hesitation: "I say, Anthony, would you mind

+copying it off for me? I write such an awful fist, you know."

+

+So they adjourned to Anthony's room, and Jack leaned anxiously over

+his friend's shoulder while the lines were copied in the most careful

+of copperplate chirography, folded, sealed, and addressed. Then Jack

+bought a one-cent stamp from Anthony and took the letter to the

+post-office, marching back through the warm June evening humming "Glory

+to the Purple," and in imagination leading the cheering section at the

+Robinson game.

+

+After he had gone to sleep he dreamed that he had been appointed

+poet-laureate of Erskine College, and was being driven along Main

+Street in Gilberth's automobile between serried ranks of applauding

+students and townfolk, his brow adorned with a golden fillet of

+laurel-leaves. The automobile was extremely spacious, since it held

+besides himself not only the faculty, but Anthony and Joe Perkins and

+the entire baseball team. When he acknowledged the plaudits of the

+multitude he had to hold his laurel wreath on with one hand, which

+annoyed him a great deal. In the end the president solved the problem

+by tying it on with a red silk handkerchief. Then, at the moment of his

+greatest triumph, Showell arose from somewhere and shouted in a voice

+that drowned the cheers: "He didn't compose it! The writing was Anthony

+Tidball's! I saw it!" Jack tried to deny the awful slander, but none

+would listen to him, and he awoke breathless and despairing, to find

+the sunlight streaming in the end window and the robins singing matins

+to the early day.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XIX

+

+ANTHONY TELLS A SECRET

+

+

+"I wish I'd never taken the captaincy," said Joe Perkins.

+

+"Oh, rot! What's the good of talking that way?" asked Tracy Gilberth.

+"The nine's coming along all right. What if Artmouth did rub it into

+us? We had an off day; every team's liable to have them. Look at last

+year."

+

+"I know," answered Joe, "we had plenty of them then, and see what

+happened! We lost to Robinson, seven to nothing; we scarcely made

+a hit! If I thought--if I thought we were going to lose this year,

+I'd--I'd cut and run; honest, Tracy, I would!"

+

+"That'd be a nice thing to do, wouldn't it?" asked the other

+disgustedly. "Fellows would be proud of you, wouldn't they?"

+

+"It would be better than losing again," muttered Joe.

+

+"Oh, get out, Joe! Brace up; you're off your feed, that's what's the

+matter with you. I heard 'Baldy' telling Hanson yesterday that you were

+going stale. He didn't mean me to hear it; but I couldn't very well

+help it. That's why you're out here with me in my 'bubble' instead of

+taking batting practise this morning."

+

+"Oh, I know all that. A trainer doesn't send a fellow out for rides

+on Saturday mornings unless he's gone stale or has something else the

+matter. I suppose I am out of sorts, Tracy. And I guess I'd rather stay

+and take a licking like a little man than run away, but--" He stopped

+and scowled ahead of him at the dusty road. Then, "It's all well enough

+to talk about 'honorable defeat,' and all that, but it's mighty hard

+to lose your big game when you're captain and have worked hard and put

+your whole heart into it."

+

+"Of course it is; I know that," answered Tracy soothingly. "But you're

+not going to lose. You're going to win. So buck up, old chap!"

+

+"And there's poor old Tom Higgins," Joe continued dispiritedly. "What

+will he say? I promised him I'd win this year. He's coming up next

+week, if he can, to coach for a few days; I told you, didn't I? What'll

+he think when he sees how things are going?"

+

+"Oh, Tom Higgins be blowed!" cried Tracy. "He couldn't win himself,

+and I'd like to know what business he has finding fault with you if you

+don't win, either?"

+

+"But I promised him----"

+

+"Well, supposing you did? If you can't win, you can't, and that's all

+there is to it. Every fellow on the team is going to work as hard as

+he knows how; every fellow is going to stand by you until the last

+man's out. If we lose, it'll be simply because Robinson's got a better

+baseball nine. Cheer up, now, Joe, or I'll run this machine into the

+ditch there and send you out on your silly old nut."

+

+The two were speeding comfortably along River Street in Tracy's

+automobile. It was ten o'clock of a fresh morning in the first week of

+June. They had left the village a half mile behind and were _chugging_

+along over a somewhat dusty country road with green hillsides to the

+right and the gleaming river to the left. Occasionally the fragrant air

+was sullied with the smell of gasoline, and Joe sniffed disapprovingly

+and made uncomplimentary remarks about motor vehicles in general, and

+Tracy's in particular. But Tracy, who had had his orders from Simson

+to cheer Joe up and bring him home in good spirits, refused to take

+umbrage, and declared that gasoline had a rather pleasant odor.

+

+Joe was certainly suffering from nerves, and had been ever since the

+disastrous game with Artmouth, two days before, when Erskine had

+gone down ingloriously to the tune of 17 to 1, the 1 being the result

+of good fortune rather than good playing. Perhaps, as Tracy put it,

+the team had merely had an off day; at all events its performance had

+been anything but encouraging to the supporters of the Purple, and

+had thrown Joe into the depths of despair. With the final game of the

+season, the contest with Robinson, but two weeks distant, he saw only

+defeat ahead.

+

+They were in sight of the Cove now, and Tracy suddenly pointed ahead.

+"What in thunder's that, Joe?" he asked. Joe roused himself from

+unprofitable thoughts and looked toward the point indicated by his

+friend's finger.

+

+"Must be a duck," he said finally.

+

+"Duck be blowed! There aren't any ducks around here at this time of

+year. Perhaps-- I tell you what it is, Joe, it's a man's head! See?

+Some one's in swimming."

+

+"Queer place to swim, among all those rushes," Joe responded. "But I

+guess you're right. We can tell for sure farther on."

+

+"Yes. Look; there he comes out. There's a sort of beach there,

+remember? He's walking out, and----"

+

+"If it doesn't look like Jack Weatherby, I'll eat my hat!" Joe

+interrupted.

+

+"Weatherby!" echoed Tracy. "What's he doing down here? He's at

+practise."

+

+"No, only the first squad from ten until eleven; he's in the second.

+That's who it is, Jack Weatherby."

+

+"Rot! It doesn't look the least bit like Weatherby to me. I tell you

+what, we'll go over and see."

+

+"Can you get there in this tea-kettle?" asked Joe doubtfully.

+

+"Sure; run in where the old bridge used to be; it's just a nice little

+jounce."

+

+"All right, only remember that I'm not made of india-rubber."

+

+That is why Jack, when he rejoined Anthony in the shade of the old shed

+near-by, reported uneasily that an automobile, with two occupants, was

+crossing the clay field from the road, and that it must be Gilberth's.

+Anthony finished dressing and then went to investigate. As he turned

+the corner a voice hailed him.

+

+"Hello, Tidball! Was that you, for goodness' sake?"

+

+"Hello!" answered Anthony. "Was what me?"

+

+"The chap we saw in the water a minute ago. I could have sworn it was

+Weatherby," Joe replied.

+

+"I was in there," Anthony said. "Water's nice and warm down here."

+

+"Well, but how did you get dressed so quickly?" Joe went on,

+suspiciously. "Oh, you be blowed! It wasn't you we saw. It was Jack

+Weatherby, wasn't it?"

+

+"Maybe it was. He's just dressing himself around the corner there."

+Anthony saw that further attempt at concealing Jack's identity was

+idle. During the conversation Tracy and Anthony had not noticed each

+other's presence save by perfunctory nods.

+

+"Going back?" asked Joe.

+

+"Yes, as soon as Jack gets his clothes on."

+

+"Well, get in here and go with us, can't you? There's lots of room, eh,

+Tracy?"

+

+Tracy nodded. He had not told Joe of Anthony's call, and his friend

+was unaware that relations between the two were somewhat strained. Joe

+wondered at the lack of hospitality displayed.

+

+"Oh, I guess we'd rather walk," Anthony answered, smiling a bit behind

+his spectacles.

+

+"Nonsense, you'll get in here, both of you, and Tracy will show you

+what he calls 'squirting through space.' Hello, Jack!"

+

+Jack came into sight carrying the bathing-suits and towels and somewhat

+red of face. He feared that Joe and Gilberth had guessed his secret.

+

+"Hello!" he answered. "Hello, Gilberth!" The latter returned his

+salutation affably enough and Joe exclaimed:

+

+"You're a couple of nice mud-hens, aren't you? Why don't you pick out a

+decent place when you want to bathe? Come on and get in; we'll take you

+back."

+

+Jack hesitated and looked inquiringly at Anthony. The latter's

+expression gave no clue to his wishes, and so, in the end, Jack

+assented, and the two crowded into the carriage, and Tracy started back

+across the field toward the road. Joe seemed to have forgotten his

+troubles for the while, and the talk, ranging from baseball to final

+examinations, grew lively, even Gilberth finding his tongue at last.

+There was no hurry about getting back, he said, and so they crossed

+westward to the turnpike, and there, with a hard, safe road underneath,

+sped homeward at a rate that took Jack's breath away and made Anthony

+hold tightly to so much of the seat as he could find. They turned

+into Main Street at the Observatory just as the clock in the tower

+of College Hall, glimpsed over the tree-tops, indicated a quarter of

+eleven.

+

+"I guess I'd better get out at William Street," said Jack, "or I'll be

+late at the field. Will you come along, Anthony?"

+

+"Can't. I've got a recitation and I've already cut once this week."

+

+"Once?" cried Gilberth. "Great Scott, I've cut four times!"

+

+"Well, you'd better quit it, Tracy," Joe remonstrated, "or they'll be

+putting you on probation, and then we'll be beaten, sure as fate!" He

+turned to Jack. "Come to the room with me and then I'll go out with

+you."

+

+"You're not allowed out there this morning," cried Tracy. "Hanson said

+I was to keep you away until the game."

+

+"You can't," Joe replied quietly. "Besides, I'm feeling fine now, and

+it would give me the horrors to have to mope around the college while

+you fellows were enjoying yourselves."

+

+"Enjoying ourselves!" Tracy grumbled. "You've got a queer notion of

+enjoyment. If you think I'm happy when Hanson is throwing it into me

+because I don't hold my bat the way they did when he was a boy, you're

+away off, Joe."

+

+"Well, I'm going out, anyhow," Joe answered. Suddenly, just as they

+reached the corner of the yard, he turned to Anthony. "I say, Tidball,

+I wish you'd tell me what you two were doing at the Cove. I--I've got a

+reason for wanting to know."

+

+Jack shot an admonitory glance at his friend, but Anthony didn't

+see it; perhaps he didn't want to. He looked gravely back at Joe and

+replied:

+

+"All right, Perkins, I'll tell you. I was teaching Jack how to swim."

+

+"Anthony!" cried Jack, the color flooding into his cheeks. "You

+promised!"

+

+"No, I didn't promise, Jack," he answered calmly. "I know you didn't

+want me to tell, but I think the thing's been a secret long enough."

+

+Gilberth was frowning intensely and studying the clear road ahead,

+as though he expected a stone wall to rise out of the ground at any

+instant and bar his progress. Joe was looking curiously at Jack's

+averted face.

+

+"King was right," he said softly. Then, "Why in blazes didn't you

+explain, Jack? Why didn't you tell the fellows you couldn't swim?"

+

+But Jack only shook his head without turning.

+

+"Pride," said Anthony. "Jack's full of it. I wanted to tell what the

+trouble was the next day, but he wouldn't listen to it." He reached

+around and placed one big, ungainly hand on Jack's shoulder. "He's an

+idiot, Jack is, but he's _all right_!"

+

+Gilberth swung the machine over to the sidewalk, and stopped it in

+front of the north gate.

+

+"You'll have to get out here," he said gruffly. "I've got to take this

+thing down to the stable. You might as well stay in, though, Tidball;

+I'm going your way. So long, you fellows."

+

+The automobile whizzed off again down Main Street, and disappeared

+around the corner of College Place. Joe and Jack watched it out of

+sight and then turned together and passed through the gate, bending

+their steps toward Sessons Hall at the upper end of the quadrangle. For

+the first part of the way neither spoke. Then Joe put his hand through

+the other's arm and bent forward smilingly until he could see Jack's

+flushed face.

+

+"You're an awful fool, Jack," he said affectionately.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XX

+

+STOLEN PROPERTY

+

+

+Erskine met with defeat that afternoon.

+

+Arrowden did pretty much as she pleased; base-hits were as plentiful

+as errors; the former were to the credit of the visitors, the latter

+were the property of the home team. When it was over, and the audience

+had clambered soberly down from the stands to shake their heads

+disappointedly over the showing of the Purple as they tramped through

+the golden evening back to the town and the college, Patterson, the

+manager, slipped his pencil back into his pocket and softly closed the

+score-book to shut from sight the obnoxious figures, 15--3. It had been

+a veritable Waterloo.

+

+In the locker-house little was said. Every one realized that the

+team had taken a slump. Hanson stood aside, and "Baldy" Simson

+became the man of the hour. His was the task of getting the men back

+into condition, a task requiring patience and vigilance and all the

+knowledge that many years of experience had brought him. This was

+no time for fault-finding; on the contrary, Hanson was silent, and

+"Baldy's" tone was cheerful and soothing.

+

+The news of Erskine's trouncing brought delight to the hearts of the

+Robinson players and coaches. Down there at Collegetown they had been

+having troubles of their own of late. The brown-stockinged team was

+inferior to its last year's predecessor, and its coaches believed that

+if Erskine came to Collegetown in two weeks with a nine equal to that

+of the previous season she would win the dual championship. So it was

+that Erskine's defeat by Arrowden brought encouragement to Robinson;

+for Robinson had met Arrowden ten days before and had shut her out to

+the tune of 5 to 0. What pleased Robinson worried Erskine. The college

+at large, with last year's overthrow in memory, scented defeat. Hanson

+wrote four telegrams on Sunday. The tenor of all was the same; that to

+Thomas G. Higgins, captain of the defeated nine of the spring previous,

+read as follows:

+

+"Need you badly. Come at once. Wire when."

+

+Joe Perkins dropped a pound of weight every day until the middle of the

+week. Examinations were imminent, and this fact, with his own condition

+to think of and the worry caused by the general slump, came very near

+to making him quite useless on the diamond or in class-room. There was

+no practise on Monday for those who had played against Arrowden. They

+were told to stay away from the field and rest. Joe moped in his room

+until Tracy called for him and again took him out in the automobile.

+

+Jack went to second base that afternoon, and during the hour and

+a half's practise made a good showing. His throwing to first and

+to the plate pleased Hanson vastly. On Tuesday the first nine was

+still largely composed of substitutes. Joe and Tracy remained out

+and the battery was Knox and Griffin. "Wally" Stiles, the regular

+second-baseman, was out, but as he wore his every-day clothes Jack knew

+that the second bag was his for the afternoon.

+

+Showell played Bissell's place at center-field during the fielding

+practise, and later, when base-running began, was selected to start the

+procession. He played well off of first in obedience to Hanson, and

+when Mears cracked a short grounder toward third base he was able to

+reach second with time to spare. Jack was standing just in front of the

+base-line, arms outstretched toward third-baseman, and Showell saw his

+opportunity to get even for the uncomfortable position in which Jack

+had placed him on the occasion of the mass-meeting. Lunging out of the

+base-line he struck Jack in the back with his left shoulder with all

+the force he could summon. Jack pitched forward on to his face, rolled

+over, and lay there, feebly kicking the turf with his heels, and

+Showell flung himself on to the bag.

+

+The nearest players ran to Jack's assistance and found him, white of

+face, gasping painfully for breath. "Baldy" reached his side almost

+with the first, and, kneeling above his head, he took his arms and

+"pumped" them until the air was forced back into his lungs. After a

+liberal dousing with water, Jack sat up, gasping, and looked about

+him. His eyes fell on Showell, who was sitting on the bag watching

+proceedings disinterestedly, and a wave of color swept into his face.

+"Baldy" lifted him and supported him for a moment while he tried his

+feet. Jack was angry clear through and wished that he and Showell were

+alone that he might have it out with him. But he said nothing, and only

+two or three near-by players knew that the affair was not an accident.

+

+"Are you all right?" asked "Baldy."

+

+"Yes," Jack answered. Knox handed him his gray cap and he pulled it

+down over his forehead again and went back to the bag. Showell eyed him

+sharply, evidently on the lookout for retaliation.

+

+"You want to get out of the way," he blustered.

+

+"You'd better keep out of my way," Jack replied grimly.

+

+"Why, what would you do?" growled the other.

+

+But Jack made no answer, save for a glance of contempt that brought an

+angry flush into the somewhat sallow face of the other, and the game

+went on.

+

+After he had cooled off a little, Jack was heartily glad that he had

+not got into a fuss with Showell, for Hanson hated any approach to

+disagreement during practise, and was quick to show his displeasure by

+putting the offenders on to the bench for long terms of idleness. But

+Jack had the satisfaction of twice putting Showell out, once between

+first and second, and once between second and third, and of knowing

+that when the runner was replaced by another he had not made any too

+good a showing. In the locker-house Showell kept his eye on Jack, still

+not quite satisfied that the latter did not mean to resort to his

+fists to even the score, and saw Jack go out accompanied by Clover and

+Northup with feelings of relief.

+

+The next day, Wednesday, Erskine played State University with a team

+still largely made up of substitutes. Joe Perkins was back behind

+the plate and Gilberth went into left-field, King occupying the box.

+But Motter's place at first was taken by Mears, and Jack again held

+down second. Knox was back at shortstop, but the outfield, aside from

+Gilberth, was made up of substitutes. The most encouraging feature of

+the contest was the improved condition and hard, sharp playing of

+Joe. The rest, in spite of the fact that he had fretted continually

+under the enforced idleness, had done him lots of good. Erskine won,

+5 to 0, and the students strolled back to the college talking more

+encouragingly of the nine's chances.

+

+On Friday "Wally" Stiles got back into the practise and Jack, greatly

+to his disgust, retired again to the bench, or, to be more exact, to

+the net where Bissell was coaching a squad in bunting. Saturday's game

+was with Erstham, and before it was half over Jack was morally certain

+that unless Stiles improved greatly during the next few days the

+second-baseman in the Robinson game would be one Jack Weatherby.

+

+Stiles, unlike most of the other players, had not recovered from the

+slump, and his playing that afternoon was deplorable. Yet, since

+Erskine took the lead in the second inning and held it throughout the

+contest, he was not replaced, Hanson hoping that he would find his pace

+before the last man was out. But he didn't, even for a moment. The

+team, as a whole, showed up strongly, and Erstham went home with a 10

+to 2 score against her.

+

+Jack was sorry for Stiles, really and truly sorry, he told himself; yet

+he would have been less than human had he not experienced a feeling of

+delight in the thought that, after all, it was not improbable that he

+would get into the Robinson game. There was no certainty about it, of

+course, he reflected, for Stiles might, in fact probably would, take a

+brace on Monday, and, during the five days that would then intervene

+before the last contest, win back his title to the position. But there

+was ground for hope, and since Jack had hitherto never for a moment

+really expected to have a chance in the big game, that slender hope

+brought happiness. He went back to Elm Street and the sympathetic and

+patient Anthony, whistling merrily or humming "Down with Robinson,"

+much out of tune.

+

+His poetical production had duly appeared, among many others, in

+the Purple, and for several days he had been highly delighted. Each

+contribution had been signed with the author's name, and Jack had

+experienced not a little good-natured teasing by his friends. But there

+had been praise also, for his verses were better than the rest, and

+even Professor White had congratulated him.

+

+Jack was discovering that he had a good many friends. Not many were

+intimate, to be sure, but all were apparently genuine. Joe Perkins had

+promptly spread the story of Jack's swimming lessons, and at last the

+true reason for the latter's failure to distinguish himself in the role

+of life-saver had become generally known. If the college had been quick

+to condemn, it was equally prompt to acknowledge its mistake, and

+while few fellows made mention of the matter to Jack, yet many of them

+went out of their way to show him courtesy and kindness.

+

+Tracy Gilberth had never mentioned the subject to any one since the

+truth had come out, not even to Joe. But Jack was aware that the

+varsity pitcher very frequently sought his companionship nowadays and

+seemed intent upon making up for the injustice he had done him. Jack

+willingly met him half-way, his olden longings for revenge forgotten in

+his present content. Nor, as has been said, was Tracy the only one who

+sought to ease his conscience by paying little attentions to the fellow

+he had formerly despised. From an object of scorn and derision Jack had

+changed into something approaching a hero.

+

+On the Sunday succeeding the Erstham game Jack and Anthony were seated

+in the latter's room shortly after noon when Mrs. Dorlon knocked on the

+door and announced a caller, presently ushering in with many excited

+sniffles Professor White. The professor carried a newspaper in one hand

+and his immaculate silk hat in the other. He greeted the two and took

+the chair that Anthony promptly pushed forward. But remarks on the

+beauty and seasonableness of the weather seemed to interest him but

+little, and as soon as politeness would permit he plunged into the

+subject which had brought him.

+

+"Do you own a watch, Tidball?" he asked.

+

+Anthony stared, shot a glance at Jack, and after a moment of hesitation

+answered: "Yes, that is--well, in a way."

+

+"You have it now?" the professor went on. Jack scented mystery, and

+listened attentively, wondering the while why Anthony looked so

+uncomfortable. Surely it was no disgrace to borrow money on one's own

+property! Anthony hesitated again, then answered "No."

+

+"Was it stolen?" continued the professor.

+

+"Stolen? Well, now-- But, look here, professor, suppose you tell me why

+you want to know?"

+

+"Perhaps I had better," responded the other. "You're probably thinking

+me pretty cheeky and inquisitive. But I was reading the paper a few

+minutes ago, and saw that they'd arrested a tramp over in Gerrydale,

+and had found a lot of pawn-tickets on him. When they visited the

+pawn-shop and recovered the property they found among other jewelry

+a watch with the inscription--let me see." He found the place in the

+paper he held and read: "'Gold watch and chain; former inscribed

+Anthony Z. Tidball, from Henry Wright Porter--July, 1902.' That's your

+name, and I thought perhaps the watch was yours. Is it?"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXI

+

+OFF TO COLLEGETOWN

+

+

+Ere Professor White had finished Anthony was on his feet with hands

+stretching forth for the paper. The look of delight which he had

+flashed across at Jack and which still illumined his face caused that

+youth much wonderment.

+

+"Guess it's mine, all right," Anthony cried. The professor yielded the

+paper, and Anthony read the article through in silence. When he handed

+it back his eyes were dancing behind the lenses of his spectacles.

+"It's mine, sir; no doubt about it! The paper says all I need do is

+prove my ownership, and I can do that easily enough, for I have the

+number of the watch!"

+

+"But, Anthony," Jack objected, "you said that you'd----"

+

+"I'll go over to Gerrydale in the morning," Anthony interrupted

+hurriedly, shooting a warning glance at his friend. "I'm much obliged

+to you, sir; if you hadn't seen that and told me I don't believe I'd

+ever have got it back; I don't read the papers very often myself."

+

+"Well, I'm glad I saw it, Tidball. When was it stolen?"

+

+"About a month ago," answered Anthony somewhat vaguely. "I left it in

+my room, and when I came back for it it was gone. Of course I never

+knew who'd taken it. But--I'm plaguy glad to find it again."

+

+"Of course, especially since it was presented to you. What is the

+story, Tidball?"

+

+So Anthony told the professor about the rescue at Jonesboro, making it

+sound very casual and far from thrilling. But neither of his hearers

+was deceived, and insistent questioning and cross-examining finally

+gave the incident a different aspect.

+

+"Well, yes," Anthony acknowledged, "there was quite a sea running--

+Danger? Nothing to speak of if you knew how to manage a dory-- The kid?

+Oh, he came round all right after a while; pretty near thing, though;

+another second or two would have finished him, likely. Father of the

+boy wanted me to take some money, but I wouldn't; a fellow doesn't take

+money for saving a life. So after he got home he sent me the watch.

+That's all. Good deal of fuss about it."

+

+After the professor had taken his departure, insisting, for some

+reason, on shaking hands with the tall, ungainly junior, Jack turned

+upon Anthony and began his questions.

+

+"I didn't come right out, Jack, and say I'd pawned the watch," Anthony

+explained, "but I gave you to understand that. The fact is I didn't

+know what had become of it, and there wasn't any use saying it had been

+stolen as long as I wasn't certain about it. I left it in the room one

+morning when I went to recitation. I missed it in class, and came back,

+and couldn't find it. I guess the tramp found the door open and walked

+in."

+

+"When was it?" asked Jack.

+

+"Oh, well, about a month ago."

+

+Jack looked thoughtful, and Anthony eyed him uneasily. At last Jack

+brought one fist into the palm of his other hand and jumped up.

+

+"Anthony! Was it the morning I went off?"

+

+Anthony hesitated; but the boy's face showed that he had no suspicion

+that Anthony had for a while connected him with the missing article.

+

+"Why, yes, it was," replied Anthony.

+

+"I thought so!" Jack cried. "I remember now that I saw a

+trampish-looking fellow on the street when I came from breakfast. I

+passed him. I didn't pay much attention, though, because I was--feeling

+sort of knocked out. But once I heard a noise in the entry here while

+I was packing. I'll bet it was the tramp. And I remember seeing your

+watch on the table in your room, Anthony, when I took that note in

+there, and--why, come to think of it, I put the note under the watch!"

+

+"He followed you in, I guess," said Anthony.

+

+"That's just what he did. And when I went out he was in your room, I'll

+bet. And--and he took my money, too, don't you suppose? I must have

+left it out somewhere!"

+

+"That's about what happened," Anthony replied, grinning jovially. "I

+wish you could get your money back; but I guess that's too much to hope

+for."

+

+"I suppose so. Oh, I don't care now. But I am glad you're going to

+recover your watch, Anthony. Wouldn't it have been funny if I'd gone

+back into your room again and found him there?"

+

+"Yes, but you might have got laid out!"

+

+"Laid out nothing! I'll bet I could have whipped that chap. And I would

+have saved your watch, and----"

+

+"Missed your train!"

+

+"Yes, so I would have. I wonder if it would have made any difference? I

+fancy it's best the way it all happened." He considered the subject for

+a moment in silence. Anthony beamed across at him happily. He was glad

+he was to get his watch back, but gladder still that the last doubt as

+to Jack's honesty was dispelled; and, oh, so very glad that Jack knew

+nothing of his idiotic suspicions!

+

+"There's something I ought to tell you, Anthony," said Jack suddenly.

+He looked rather ashamed and apologetic and very serious. "I've thought

+of owning up several times, but--I never did," he continued.

+

+"Owning up? Well--what is it, Jack? Murder?"

+

+"No, it's--it's robbery!" Anthony stared.

+

+"That morning I went away," he continued, "I--I took something of yours

+with me. It wasn't much, but I shouldn't have taken it."

+

+"Why, what was it?" Anthony asked wonderingly. "I haven't missed

+anything."

+

+"No; but then, I put it back afterward. It was a pencil."

+

+"A pencil!"

+

+"Yes, the green one with the rubber tip; the one you used to have

+on your desk. I--I wanted something to remember you by," he added

+shamefacedly. "And so I took that. I thought you wouldn't care. I was

+going to write and tell you when I got home."

+

+"Well, I'll be jiggered!" exclaimed Anthony. "I missed that pencil for

+two or three days, and then one morning it turned up again on the desk.

+But, hang it, Jack, you were welcome to the old thing, of course! I'm

+glad you took it--glad you cared to remember such a silly old codger as

+I! Why, that was nothing; not worth mentioning. Besides, you gave me

+that charm, and fair exchange is no robbery!"

+

+"I'm glad you don't mind now that you know," said Jack simply. And,

+after a moment: "When you get your watch back again you can wear that

+bean, can't you?" he asked.

+

+"Well, I should say so!" replied Anthony with much decision. "And

+what's more, Jack, I'll wear it as long as the chain holds together!"

+

+There was no difficulty the next day in recovering the watch. Anthony

+gave a detailed description of it, and explained the circumstances of

+the robbery, and his property was handed over to him at once. But it

+is needless to say that Jack's roll of money was not among the objects

+recovered from the pawn-shop, nor was it found on the prisoner. Anthony

+was told that it might become necessary for him to attend the trial and

+give evidence. But he begged off very eloquently, and in the end the

+police decided that perhaps there would be evidence enough to convict

+the thief without calling upon Anthony. And, as it turned out, the

+decision was correct.

+

+Jack never learned that Anthony had for a while suspected him of

+the theft of the watch; and it was better so. For while Anthony's

+suspicions were certainly justified by circumstances, yet Jack could

+never have seen the matter in the same light, and would have been

+greatly hurt had he ever learned of it.

+

+In the second week of June two things began simultaneously, final

+examinations and morning baseball practise. Naturally, the first

+seriously interfered with the second, and it was only by the most

+complicated arrangement on the part of Hanson that the players were

+able to report at the nets during the forenoons for batting practise.

+Three assistant coaches had put in appearance in response to his

+telegrams, among them the captain of the unsuccessful nine of the year

+before. Higgins was a good player and turned out to be as good a coach.

+His heart was set on witnessing a victory over the Brown and he worked

+enthusiastically and tirelessly. Afternoon practise began every day

+at three-thirty, and never let up as long as there was a ray of light

+left. The slump was a thing of the past, and every man responded well

+to the demands of the coaches. Stiles gradually recovered his form,

+and in the last game before the final contest--played on Thursday with

+Harwich Academy--he superseded Jack at second, and Jack, his hopes

+dead, sat on the bench and tried to be philosophic.

+

+That Thursday game attracted the biggest audience of any thus far

+played; not because the Academy team was strong enough to promise a

+hard-fought battle, but for the reason that it was given out that the

+Erskine nine was to play just as it would in the game at Collegetown

+the next day but one. The batting list was as follows:

+

+    Perkins, catcher.

+    Gilberth, pitcher.

+    Motter, first base.

+    Bissell, center-field.

+    Stiles, second base.

+    Knox, shortstop.

+    Billings, third base.

+    King, left-field.

+    Northup, right-field.

+

+Allowing for the fact that every man had been worked hard all the week

+up to the very beginning of the game, and that examinations were in

+progress, the exhibition of ball-playing made by them was decidedly

+encouraging. The cheering was a notable part of the contest. Led by the

+senior class president and five assistants, the stands did heroic work,

+and cheers and songs thundered forth unceasingly.

+

+Jack, sitting forlornly on the bench, wedged in between other

+substitutes quite as forlorn, found balm for his disappointed hopes in

+the fact that the song that went the best of any, and the one which was

+most often sung, was his. The way in which the throng emphasized the

+"Poor old Robinson!" was good to hear.

+

+When the game was at an end--it was almost dark by then--the spectators

+marched back down William Street to the college, cheering and singing

+all the way. Jack, trotting over to the locker-house in the wake of

+the other players, heard from down the street the refrain arising

+splendidly to the summer sky:

+

+    "Purple is the color of the stalwart and the brave;

+     Purple are the banners that the conq'ring heroes wave;

+     Purple are the violets above the lonely grave

+           Of poor old Robinson!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+               Glory, glory to the Purple!

+                   And down with Robinson!"

+

+The enthusiasm didn't cease until late at night. After dinner the

+fellows thronged the yard in front of Walton and the cheers and songs

+were gone through with again and again.

+

+There was little work the following day for the players. Morning

+practise was omitted, and in the afternoon a little running and

+throwing to bases constituted the program. In the evening there was

+a reception to the nine and substitutes in Brown Hall, and again

+enthusiasm was rampant. The Glee Club sang, the college band played,

+the fellows cheered, the dean and Professor Nast and the coaches and

+Captain Joseph Perkins made speeches, and there was a grand hullabaloo

+until half past nine.

+

+Jack bade good-by to Anthony that night, for the nine and substitutes

+were to go to Collegetown in the morning on a train that left at half

+past six. The supporters were to follow on a later train, but Anthony

+was not to be among them.

+

+"I wish I were going," he said, "but I just can't afford it, Jack. But

+I'll be down on the street in the afternoon, and while you're knocking

+base runs and such things you'll know that I'm flinging my cap for you

+here at home."

+

+"It's little chance I've got," said Jack sadly. "But I may get on for a

+while, Anthony. Anyhow, I wish you were going along."

+

+"So do I. Good night, Jack, and good luck to you and the nine and old

+Erskine. You'll play, of course; they can't win without you, Jack! Good

+night!"

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXII

+

+AT THE END OF THE SIXTH

+

+

+If you are so fortunate as to be occupying a seat in the stand running

+parallel with the line to first base, and if you are about midway

+between that base and the home plate, you may congratulate yourself

+upon being in the best place of all from which to watch the game.

+Under ordinary conditions you have a clear view of every player, the

+batsman, unless he is left-handed, is facing you, and the run to first

+base is made directly in front of you. Make yourself as comfortable as

+the narrow board seat and uncompromising back will permit, be grateful

+for the clear sky and warm sunlight, which, if it beats a little too

+ardently upon your cheek, makes up for it by limbering the joints and

+muscles of the players and urging them to their best efforts, and

+watch the game, prepared to applaud good work, joyfully if performed

+by your side, ungrudgingly if by the other, and to accept victory with

+gratitude and defeat with equanimity.

+

+From where you sit you see first the Erskine players on their bench at

+the foot of the sloping stand, their purple caps thrust back on their

+heads or held in their hands. You can't see their faces, but their

+broad shoulders suggest the best of physical condition. Beyond them

+to the right a white deal table is occupied by four men who are busy

+writing the history of the contest.

+

+At the feet of the players the field begins, a level expanse of closely

+cropped turf, which stretches away for a quarter of a mile like a great

+green carpet. Beyond the field is a thicket of trees, elms, chestnuts,

+and maples. Beyond that, again, the warmly red roof of the gymnasium

+peers forth, the forerunner of many other roofs and turrets and towers

+set sparsely at first amid the foliage, but quickly grouping together

+about the campus. There lies Robinson College. To the left, where the

+white spire pierces the tree-tops and glistens against the blue sky,

+the village of Collegetown commences and straggles away to a tiny

+river, no wave or ripple of which is from here visible.

+

+But you have wandered far afield. About you the tiers are gay with

+purple flags and ribbons, but farther along to your left the purple

+gives place grudgingly to brown, and from there on in a long sweep of

+color the brown holds sway even beyond third base. Four hundred among

+four thousand is as a drop in a bucket. Yet the four hundred is massed

+closely together, and every unit of it flaunts a purple banner, and is

+tireless in cheering and in song. Across the diamond the Robinson band

+plays lustily between the innings; you can see the leader swinging his

+little black wand, the cornetist's cheeks rising and falling like a

+pair of red bellows, the player of the base drum thumping away with his

+padded stick; but you hear nothing--nothing save an occasional muffled

+boom from the big drum; how can you when all about you cheers are

+thundering forth for "_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_" Your throat is dry

+and parched, the perspiration is trickling down your cheek, and your

+eyes are dazzled with the sunlight; but you're as happy as a clam at

+high tide, for the sixth inning has begun, neither side has yet scored,

+Erskine is at bat, and your heart's in your mouth!

+

+Five innings without a tally doesn't sound exciting, and yet, if

+we except the second, every one of those five innings had kept the

+audience on the edges of the seats. In every inning save the second

+Robinson had placed men on bases, and at the end of each the supporters

+of the Purple had heaved sighs of heartfelt relief, finding sufficient

+satisfaction in the fact that the Brown had not scored. Only once

+had Erskine dared hope for a tally. That was in the third. The tally

+didn't come. It had been a pitcher's battle, and the palm had gone to

+Vose, the tall, thin fellow whose spindle-shanks were encased in brown

+stockings. Not a single hit had been made off him, while Gilberth had

+been struck freely, yet had frequently managed to puzzle the batsman

+when a single would have brought in a run, or possibly two. When summed

+up it came to this: Erskine had been outplayed, and that Robinson did

+not now lead by several tallies was due to her inability to make her

+hits at the right time. The players of each college, in batting order,

+were as follows:

+

+        ERSKINE

+    Perkins, catcher, captain.

+    Motter, first base.

+    Gilberth, pitcher.

+    Bissell, center-field.

+    Knox, shortstop.

+    King, left-field.

+    Northup, right-field.

+    Stiles, second base.

+    Billings, third base.

+

+        ROBINSON

+    Cox, first base.

+    Condit, catcher.

+    Hopkins, third base.

+    Morgan, shortstop.

+    Devlin, left-field.

+    Wood, center-field, captain.

+    Richman, second base.

+    Regan, right-field.

+    Vose, pitcher.

+

+

+At the beginning of the sixth inning it was anybody's game. Billings,

+the tag-ender, went to bat. On the Erskine stand the cheering died

+away and the purple flags ceased waving and fluttering in the still

+afternoon air. Across the diamond the band laid aside its instruments,

+and the shadow of the western stand crept along the turf until its

+edge touched the line of white that marked the coacher's box. On the

+players' benches the men leaned forward anxiously and watched Billings

+thrust his cap back and grip his bat determinedly.

+

+But it was soon evident to the watchers that Erskine was not to score.

+Billings hit a short grounder to first-baseman who scooped it up and

+tagged the bag before the batsman was half-way toward it. Joe Perkins

+had two strikes called on him ere he found the ball, and sent a high

+foul into the hands of left-fielder. He tossed aside the bat with a

+look of disgust and paused on his way back to the bench to whisper

+into the ear of Motter, the next victim to the deceptive curves of the

+merciless Vose. Joe crowded into a space between Billings and Tracy

+Gilberth.

+

+"_I_ can't find him," he sighed.

+

+"No, hang him," growled Tracy, "he's too much for any of us. But I'll

+bet he'll let down before the game's over; and then--well, then we want

+to be ready, Joe!"

+

+"Do you think he will? It doesn't look like it."

+

+Tracy nodded knowingly.

+

+"His arm's getting stiff. I know the signs. So's mine, for that matter,

+and I've pitched perfectly rotten ball, Joe!"

+

+"Nonsense, you've done good work. But let me know as soon as you want

+to quit, Tracy. How about the next inning?"

+

+"That's for you to say," answered Tracy. "But I guess I can hold out

+through the seventh, if you don't mind."

+

+"All right; I'll put King in for the eighth. Oh, hang! Come on,

+fellows! Out on the run!"

+

+Motter had struck out, and was trotting to his position at first,

+drawing on his glove and looking wofully sad. The Robinson band struck

+up again, and the Erskine contingent, not to be outdone, started the

+cheers once more, while the purple-sleeved players spread out over the

+diamond.

+

+Joe thumped his big mitten and Tracy picked up the ball. The umpire,

+a rotund little man in a navy-blue blouse shirt, ran nimbly to his

+position.

+

+"First man!" cried Joe confidently.

+

+The batsman was the Robinson captain and center-fielder, Wood. Tracy

+was not greatly afraid of Wood, and so saved his arm by pitching a

+few slow balls, none of which the Robinson captain was able to touch.

+When he struck out the Erskine cheers rang across the field. Richman

+came next. He was the first of the Brown's tail-enders on the batting

+list, and he followed the way of his captain, while the purple flags

+fluttered joyously.

+

+Perhaps Tracy was overconfident, for when Regan, the enemy's

+right-fielder, stepped to the plate, he shook his head at Joe's signal

+for an outshoot, and sent a straight, slow ball over the corner of the

+base. And Regan got it on his bat and sent it arching in easy flight

+toward second, and raced for the bag.

+

+"Mine!" called Stiles.

+

+"Take it!" shouted little Knox, backing him up.

+

+But Stiles didn't take it. Instead he let it slip through his fingers,

+and so when Knox had recovered and fielded it to Motter the runner was

+safe.

+

+"Twenty minutes!" yelled the Robinson coach derisively. Then he began a

+desperate effort to rattle Gilberth. "On your toes!" he shrieked. "Go

+on, go on! He daren't throw it! Way off now! I'll look out for you! Way

+off! Now! _Now!_ NOW!"

+

+Tracy was disgusted because he had allowed Regan to hit him, and the

+shrieks of the coacher annoyed him. Earlier in the game he would not

+have minded twenty coachers, but now his arm was aching and growing

+stiff and tired and his temper and nerves were not so well in command.

+The next batsman was Vose, the Robinson pitcher. Vose was the poorest

+performer with the stick of any of his team, and in the natural order

+of things should have been struck out without difficulty. But this

+time he found the second ball that came to him and hit it safely into

+right-field, and Regan took second. Then came Cox, the head of the

+batting list, and swung his ash wickedly while he waited.

+

+There were coaches behind both first and third now, and their shrieks

+hurtled back and forth across the diamond. Tracy looked bothered, and

+Joe strove to hide his anxiety under a show of confidence.

+

+"Next man, fellows!" he called cheerily. Motter took his cue from him

+and added his voice. "He's a goner, Tracy! Strike him out, old man!"

+

+And for a while it seemed that Tracy would do it. But when the little

+fat umpire had called two strikes and two balls on him Cox managed to

+find something that suited him, and cracked it out past shortstop.

+Regan reached third, and, with two out, the bases were full. Joe and

+Tracy had a whispered consultation, while the Robinson stands hooted

+derisively, and then took their places again. Condit, the Brown's

+catcher, and one of the best batters, tapped the plate and looked as

+though he meant to bring in a run. The coachers kept up their medley of

+taunts and warnings, but Tracy had found his head again and paid not

+the slightest attention.

+

+The first ball went wide, and Joe's brilliant stop brought forth a

+burst of applause. Tracy hurried up, apologetic, keeping an eye on the

+bases. "Sorry, Joe," he said.

+

+"All right, old man," answered the captain cheerfully. "Now let's put

+him out."

+

+Two strikes followed.

+

+"Good eye, Tracy!" "Fine work, old man!" "That's the pitching!"

+encouraged the infielders. Then the batsman elicited laughter and

+applause from his supporters by crossing the plate and suddenly

+becoming a left-handed batter. Tracy looked surprised, and his next two

+efforts were pronounced balls. Joe leaned far to the left and squeezed

+his hands between his knees. Tracy nodded. But the batsman was an

+old hand, and was not deceived by the inshoot that followed. "Three

+balls!" cried the umpire. Everything depended on the next pitch. Tracy

+straightened his arms, swung his foot, and hurled a straight ball waist

+high for the plate. Condit met it with his bat, but failed to hit it

+squarely, and it went high into the air, and the men on bases raced

+toward home.

+

+When the sphere came down it was undeniably second-baseman's ball, and

+Stiles stood ready for it. Regan reached home, and the next man, Vose,

+swung around third. Suddenly a shout of joy burst from the Robinson

+stands and the coachers were screaming like mad. Stiles had muffed!

+

+Vose, with a coacher racing along beside him, sped for home. But Knox

+had seized the ball almost before it had touched the ground, and now

+he threw it straight and sure toward the plate. Vose hurled himself

+forward when fully ten feet distant, and slid for his goal, but the

+ball was there before him, and Joe's right hand swept down and tagged

+him. The side was out. The Erskine players hurried in to the bench, and

+Gilberth picked out his bat.

+

+It was the beginning of the seventh inning, but the score was no longer

+a blank; Robinson led 1 to 0. The band played wildly. Jack Weatherby,

+on the bench, felt a hand on his shoulder, and looked up to find Hanson

+speaking.

+

+"You cover second, Weatherby," said the coach.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXIII

+

+A TRIPLE PLAY

+

+

+The seventh inning began with Tracy Gilberth at bat. He watched Vose

+with interest while that lanky youth settled himself to his task,

+hopeful that at last Robinson's star player was weary enough to allow

+the opponents to hit him. But Tracy was doomed to disappointment.

+Vose's arm was tired, beyond a doubt, but he only took more time at

+his work, his curves remaining as puzzling as ever. Tracy struck out

+ingloriously, just as he had done pretty much all through the game.

+Vose was still on his mettle.

+

+Bissell's fate was the same, while as for Knox, although he managed, by

+good judgment, to get three balls to his credit, yet in the end he too

+tossed aside his bat in deep disgust; and the nines again changed sides.

+

+Robinson's first man up was the redoubtable Hopkins; he had gained

+the sobriquet of "Hard-hitting Hopkins" last season. So far to-day,

+while he had managed to find Tracy rather frequently, his hits had

+netted little. But Tracy judged discretion the better part of valor,

+and deliberately gave Hopkins his base, while the purple-decked stands

+hooted loudly. Having given the other his base, Tracy next tried to

+take it away from him, but Hopkins was quick on his feet and time and

+again Motter got the ball too late to tag him out. Tracy gave it up

+finally, and turned his attention to the next batsman, Morgan.

+

+Morgan popped a foul to the foot of the stand, and Joe, hurling aside

+his mask, got it after a brilliant sprint of twenty yards. Devlin

+struck out and Hopkins stole second. The Brown's captain came to the

+plate with determination to do great deeds written large on his face.

+After getting two strikes on him, Tracy couldn't put the ball over the

+base, and Wood walked to first.

+

+Then, with two on bases, Robinson saw visions of another tally. But

+Tracy settled down again and struck out the third man, Richman, and

+again the Erskine contingent sighed with relief and cheered gleefully.

+

+Jack, who during the inning had had nothing to do, trotted in and

+examined the score-book over Patterson's shoulder. He found that he

+would be the third man at bat, and wondered a bit nervously whether

+he would have any better success with the mighty Vose's curves than

+had his predecessor, who was now sitting weary and dispirited on the

+bench. King, who during the first half of the previous inning had been

+limbering up his arm, was put in for Tracy, and Lowe took his place in

+left-field. Tracy sprawled himself down on the grass beside Jack with a

+sigh.

+

+"I wish to thunder I'd been able to hit that dub Vose just one!" he

+growled.

+

+"What's he like?" Jack asked.

+

+"Like a Chinese puzzle," Tracy replied grimly. "When you try him,

+Weatherby, look out for his drops; they're the worst; they come

+straight to about four feet from the plate, then they go down so fast

+that you can't see 'em. His inshoots are simple compared with those

+drops. Watch for fast balls, and when you see one coming, slug it! Make

+him think you can't bat, Weatherby; it's your first time up, and maybe

+you can fool him."

+

+"I'll try," Jack answered dubiously. "_Good work, King!_"

+

+King was speeding to first, having made a clean hit to the outfield

+just over shortstop's head. The Erskine stand burst into wild and

+confused cheering. Northup selected his bat and went to the plate,

+and Joe Perkins, after whispering directions into his ear, ran to the

+white line back of first base and began coaching King at the top of his

+lungs. Vose settled the ball in his hands, tapped the earth with his

+brass-toed shoe, and glanced sharply toward the runner.

+

+"Play off, Greg!" shouted Joe. "He won't throw! He's too tired! Now,

+now, now! This time! _Look out!_"

+

+King scuttled around back of the bag and reached it before the baseman

+swung at him with the ball.

+

+"Hold it, he's got the ball!" cautioned Joe. "All right, now; on your

+toes. Down with his arm! He won't throw again!"

+

+Vose looked as though he intended to, then turned quickly and pitched.

+The ball went wide, and had it not struck Northup on the hip would

+have given King two bases, since the Robinson catcher would never have

+stopped it. As it was, King, who was almost to second, trotted back and

+tagged base. The umpire waved his hand to Northup, and the latter went

+limping to first. King jogged to second, and the Erskine cheers drowned

+every sound for several minutes. Two on bases and none out! It looked

+like a tally.

+

+Joe yielded his place to Motter, sent Bissell to coach King from third,

+and caught Jack on his way to the plate. He had to put his mouth to

+Jack's ear in order to make himself heard above the shouting.

+

+"We've got to advance King, Jack," he said. "Wait for a good one, and

+make a slow bunt toward third; you know the way, old man. Swipe at

+the first ball as though you were going to knock it over the fence!

+Then wait for what you want. Keep steady, Jack!" He clapped him on the

+shoulder encouragingly and sped back to first.

+

+Jack's hope of rapping out a two-bagger was gone. Joe's directions were

+not to be disregarded, and it was a case of substituting team-play

+for ambition. He settled his cap, wiped his perspiring hands on his

+trousers, and gripped his bat. When he faced Vose he found that person

+eying him intently, appraising his ability as a batsman. Jack smiled

+easily--despite that he felt terribly nervous, and that the muscles at

+the back of his legs were twitching--and waved his bat forward and back

+a couple of times as though to say: "Right there, please, and I'll show

+you how it's done!"

+

+Vose looked about the bases very deliberately, and then offered Jack

+an outshoot. Jack was glad that he had been told to hit at the first

+delivery, for the mere act of swinging his stick fiercely through the

+air eased his nerves. He struck at least a foot too late, and the

+Robinsonians laughed and jeered. Vose thought he knew his man then,

+and tried the same ball again, and the umpire shook his head and waved

+his left hand. Jack waited; two balls; strike two; then he saw what he

+wanted, turned a trifle to the left, brought his bat around quickly

+and easily, and, as he ran to first, knew that he had succeeded.

+

+The sphere, a new and very white one it was, went rolling toward third

+base just inside the line. King was making for that base, too, and the

+baseman indulged in just that instant of hesitation that is fatal. The

+ball was his to field, yet he feared that if he left his bag none would

+cover it. When he finally got the ball, reaching it a second before

+Vose, King was safe on third, Northup was sliding for second, and Jack

+had crossed first. He tossed the sphere to the pitcher, and the latter

+went back to the box scowling wrathfully. The Erskine stand was a bank

+of purple. The senior class president, bareheaded, wilted of collar and

+crimson of face, was standing on a seat leading the singing:

+

+    "Robinson is wavering, her pride's about to fall;

+     Robinson is wavering, she can not hit the ball;

+     Erskine is the winner, for her team's the best of all;

+           _Oh, poor old Robinson!_"

+

+Billings went to bat. Motter was whispering instructions to Jack on

+first. Vose, calm of face, looked about the bases, while his support

+called encouragingly to him. Then, before his arm was well back, Jack

+had started like an express-train toward second. At the same instant

+King made as though to dash home, and Northup played off half-way to

+third. The delivery was a poor one, but Condit stopped it, threw off

+his mask, and, bewildered, threw to second.

+

+It was a costly mistake, for King was sliding across the plate before

+second-baseman had received the ball, and the Erskine fellows were

+hugging each other uproariously. Jack had flown back toward first, but

+half-way there he paused. Northup was caught on his way to third, and

+now was dancing back and forth with the ball crossing and recrossing

+above his head, and shortstop and third-baseman closing in on him every

+second. Then he stumbled and shortstop was on him like a flash, and he

+crawled to his feet to dust the loam from his shirt and trot off the

+field. Meanwhile Jack had made a good slide for second, and had beaten

+the ball.

+

+The score was tied, there was but one out, and a man on second! Is it

+any wonder that Erskine's supporters went mad with delight and danced

+and shouted and threw flags and caps into the air?

+

+When things had settled down once more Billings stepped back into the

+box. From behind him came imperative demands for a home run. Billings

+tried his best to accommodate his friends the next instant, for there

+was a loud _crack_, and the ball went arching high and far toward

+right-field. But when it descended the Robinson fielder was under it,

+and Billings stopped his journey around the bases and came back. The

+left-fielder sped the ball home quickly, but not soon enough to keep

+Jack from reaching third.

+

+The Robinson band had started bravely to work once more, but across the

+diamond the Erskine leaders had brought order out of chaos, and four

+hundred purple-flaunting enthusiasts were again cheering slowly and in

+unison:

+

+"_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah, rah! Rah, rah,

+rah! Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_"

+

+And the cheers took on new force when it was seen that the Purple's

+captain was the next batsman. Joe had given a message to King, and

+now King was imparting it to Jack down at third base, and Jack was

+nodding back to Joe. Robinson's catcher, Condit, was badly rattled,

+and Joe knew it and was planning accordingly. The stands settled down

+into comparative quietude, and Vose, still calm and confident-looking,

+pitching the game of his life, faced his new opponent. The outfield

+came in a bit.

+

+Vose's first delivery was easily a ball, and his second was undeniably

+a strike. Then followed an outshoot and a drop, neither of which did

+Joe take to. Back went the ball to Vose, and, with King shouting

+weirdly at third, he shot his arms overhead and sped it again toward

+the plate. Then an odd thing happened.

+

+The ball was a drop. Joe struck at it hard, dropped his bat, and flew

+toward base. The catcher, who had stopped the ball on the ground,

+stood up, glared bewilderedly, and then, concluding that it had been

+the third strike, threw to first-baseman, Vose shouting warnings which

+he did not hear. Jack, the moment Joe had struck, had started warily

+toward home, and although first-baseman caught the ball and hurled it

+back to the plate in the next instant, he was lying above the base in a

+cloud of dust ere the catcher tagged him. Again pandemonium broke lose

+on the Erskine stand. The Purple was one run ahead.

+

+Joe trotted back to the plate and picked up his bat, and Jack went to

+the bench, dusty, panting, and happy, to be hugged and slapped by the

+delighted occupants. There followed a pause in the game's progress

+during which Robinson's captain sought to find a rule that would

+put Jack back on third. But Joe's strategy was within the law, and

+presently the Robinson catcher picked up his mask miserably and the

+captain, disgruntled, went slowly back to his position in center-field.

+

+The incident appeared to have discouraged both the battery and the

+support. Vose took up his work listlessly, and in a moment Joe was

+walking to first on four balls. A minute later he had stolen second.

+Motter bunted toward first, and beat the ball to base. Joe took third.

+Vose was now plainly rattled, and a wild pitch became a passed ball,

+and Motter went to second, Joe, however, fearing to attempt to score.

+Then Lowe took up the stick.

+

+Lowe bided his time, and had two strikes called on him before he swung

+his bat. When he did he found the ball fairly, and drove a terrific

+grounder into outfield between first and second bases. Joe jogged home

+from third, and Motter, his legs making a purple streak, sped like the

+wind to third. Lowe sat down on first and tied his shoe. Bissell went

+to bat, and was deceived by a drop that absolutely hit the plate. And

+right there the half ended, for Lowe tried to steal second, and was put

+out four feet from the bag.

+

+There was joy in the Erskine camp. The score stood now 3 to 1. If her

+players could hold Robinson from further scoring the day was won. And,

+with King in the pitcher's box, it seemed that it might be done. Regan

+went to bat for Robinson, and stood there idly swinging his stick while

+the umpire sang: "Strike one!... Strike two!... Striker's out!" And

+then, to fill Erskine's cup overflowing with delight, King struck out

+Vose and Cox in just the same way; and the cheering broke forth anew,

+loudly, triumphantly. And the ninth and last inning began with little

+Knox at the bat.

+

+It would be pleasant to relate how Knox knocked a home run and how

+Erskine continued the performance inaugurated in the preceding inning.

+Unfortunately, that is impossible. Knox was struck out, King was thrown

+out at first, Northup made a base hit, but was left there a minute

+later when Jack flied out miserably to Vose. The stands were emptying

+themselves of their throngs and supporters of the rival colleges

+crowded along the base-lines cheering doggedly or ecstatically, as the

+case might be. King picked up the ball, Joe donned his mask, Motter

+thumped his mit, and Jack, at second, danced about from one foot to

+the other out of sheer joy. Near at hand Knox was grinning like a

+schoolboy, and calling shrilly to King to "Eat 'em up, Greg!"

+

+"First man, fellows!" cried Joe cheerfully.

+

+Condit stepped to the plate. He was pale, and looked an easy victim.

+But luck turned its back upon the Purple, for at his second delivery

+King struck the Robinson catcher on the elbow, and the latter took his

+base. Robinson's friends took courage, and their cheers thundered over

+the field. Then came Hopkins, the "hard-hitter," and swung his bat

+knowingly. King realized that here was foeman worthy of steel, and was

+accordingly careful.

+

+But Hopkins was desperate. He found the second ball, and it went flying

+toward center-field. Bissell failed to reach it in time to get his

+hands on it before it struck the ground, and Hopkins gained second,

+Condit going to third. Morgan followed with a slow grounder toward

+King. King fielded it to first too late, after making sure that Condit

+was not trying to score, and the bases were full. A home run would win

+for Robinson! A two-base hit would tie the score!

+

+The brown banners flaunted and gyrated in the air, throwing strange

+dancing silhouettes upon the turf. The shadow of the western stand had

+lengthened across the infield. Back of the stand the sky was aglow with

+orange, while toward the village a golden haze filled the air.

+

+The throng at large was silent, intense, expectant. Yet here and there

+sections of the throng still shouted, and back of the dense wall of

+spectators on the Robinson side of the field the band was playing.

+A cheer, undismayed yet faint, ran along the ranks of the Erskine

+supporters. It is hard to shout when your heart is throbbing away up in

+your throat. Devlin went to bat, his determined chin thrust forth and

+his sharp eyes sparkling from between half-closed lids as he watched

+the pitcher. Joe Perkins half knelt behind him and held a big mitten

+invitingly open on his left knee.

+

+"Steady, fellows!" he called cheerfully. "Play for the plate!"

+

+His voice rang true, with never a quiver in it. Yet now and then his

+heart raced and thumped for an instant in a way that turned him half

+faint. Despite the tiny beads of perspiration that trickled down his

+face, he was livid, and the fingers in the hot leathern mit trembled

+and twitched. If he could keep those brown-legged players from crossing

+the plate the game was won for Erskine and his labors and hopes were

+crowned with success. If! He groaned as he thought of all that might

+happen ere the third man was put out. For the first time during the

+contest he was nervous; for the first time almost in memory he was

+frightened through and through. Then his gaze swept over the field and

+he saw Motter at first carelessly flipping a pebble across the grass,

+Weatherby alert and impatient at second, Northup shading his eyes with

+his hand as he stood motionless in right-field, Knox calling blithely

+to King as he slapped his hands together, and beyond, Bissell and Lowe,

+their figures throwing long, slanting shadows across the turf. Then

+King's left hand wandered carelessly across his forehead, his arms shot

+up, and Joe, reaching out, drew in the first delivery.

+

+"Strike," droned the umpire.

+

+Joe's fright passed with the settling of the sphere in his hands. The

+blood crept back into his cheeks and courage into his heart. Returning

+the ball, he eased his mask, thumped his hands together, and called

+confidently to King.

+

+"That's the eye, Greg; once more!"

+

+Erskine applauded grandly. Then followed two balls. The coaches were

+shouting like maniacs and the runners were set, like sprinters on the

+mark, ready to spring into flight on the instant. Joe signaled a drop.

+It came, and Devlin tried and missed.

+

+"Strike two," droned the little umpire.

+

+Again the supporters of the Purple shouted and waved their colors

+against the evening sky. King swept a glance about the bases, unmindful

+of the coachers' taunts, settled himself once more, and pitched.

+Devlin's body moved quickly forward, ball and bat met squarely, Devlin

+raced toward first, and the runners on the bases sprang away.

+

+Out by second, Jack, on his toes, alert and ready for anything, heard

+the _crack_ of bat against ball, and instinctively ran toward base.

+Hopkins, head down, started like a flash toward third. Then Jack's

+eyes found the ball. It was speeding toward him, straight, swift and

+well over his head. He stopped in his tracks a foot or two behind the

+base-line, threw his hands high into the air, put his weight on to his

+toes, and then sprang straight upward until there was a good two feet

+between him and the turf. To the excited watchers it seemed that for

+an instant he hung there suspended, a lithe, slim figure against the

+golden sunset haze. Then the ball stung his hands, the throng broke

+into confused shouting, and--

+

+[Illustration: Weatherby sprang straight upward, two feet above the

+turf.]

+

+"Back! Back!" shrieked the coaches.

+

+The runners turned in their tracks and scuttled for the bases they had

+left like rabbits for their burrows. Jack, the ball securely clutched,

+reached second in two strides, and then, with a lightning survey of

+the situation, threw straight and sure to Billings at third. Condit,

+arrested ten feet from the plate by the coaches' warnings, had doubled

+back, and now was racing desperately for third base and safety. Six

+feet from the bag he launched himself forward, arms outstretched. A

+trailing cloud of red dust arose into the still air, and the ball

+thumped into the baseman's hands. The little fat umpire swung his hand

+circling toward the bases.

+

+"Game!" he said.

+

+The long ranks broke like waves, and the players were engulfed, then

+caught and tossed to the surface. Jack, rocking perilously about on the

+shoulders of comrades, looked dazedly yet happily down over a sea of

+waving purple banners and upraised, excited faces, while against his

+ears beat the thunderous refrain of "_Erskine! Erskine! Erskine!_"

+

+ ----------------------------------+----------------------------------

+    ERSKINE.        R. H. P. A. E. |   ROBINSON.       R. H. P. A. E.

+                                   |

+  Perkins, c.       1  1  8  2  0  | Cox, 1b.          0  3  9  0  0

+  Motter, 1b.       0  1  8  0  1  | Condit, c.        0  1 13  1  1

+  Gilberth, p.      0  0  1  2  1  | Hopkins, 3b.      0  2  0  3  0

+  Bissell, cf.      0  0  2  0  1  | Morgan, ss.       0  0  1  3  0

+  Knox, ss.         0  1  0  0  0  | Devlin, lf.       0  0  1  0  0

+  King, lf., p.     1  2  2  0  1  | Wood, cf.         0  0  0  1  0

+  Lowe, lf.         0  1  0  0  0  | Richman, 2b.      0  1  1  2  1

+  Northup, rf.      0  1  1  0  0  | Regan, rf.        1  0  1  0  0

+  Stiles, 2b.       0  0  2  1  2  | Vose, p.          0  1  1  2  1

+  Weatherby, 2b.    1  1  2  1  0  |                  -- -- -- -- --

+  Billings, 3b.     0  0  1  1  0  |   Totals          1  8 27 12  3

+                   -- -- -- -- --  |

+    Totals          3  8 27  7  6  |

+ ----------------------------------+----------------------------------

+         Erskine               0  0  0  0  0  0  0  3  0  --3

+         Robinson              0  0  0  0  0  1  0  0  0  --1

+

+    Two-Base Hits--Wood, Hopkins. Triple Play--Weatherby to

+    Billings. Bases on Balls--Off Gilberth, 3; Off Vose, 2; Off

+    King, 1. Hit by Pitched Ball--Northup (2), Condit. Struck

+    Out--By Gilberth, 8; By King, 3; By Vose, 13. Sacrifice

+    Hits--Knox, Richman, Regan. Umpire--Cantrell. Time of

+    Game--2.40. Attendance--4,000.

+

+

+

+

+CHAPTER XXIV

+

+WEATHERBY'S INNING

+

+

+"Good morning, Mr. Tidball!"

+

+Anthony, making his way briskly down Main Street, raised his head

+at the greeting, and glanced across the street. Professor White,

+immaculate in his Sunday attire of black frock coat, gray trousers,

+and silk hat, was picking his way gingerly between the little puddles

+left by the night's shower. Anthony returned the salutation, and waited

+for the other to join him. Then they went on together down the quiet

+street in the shade of the elms. The village seemed deserted. It was an

+hour after noon, and staid, respectable Centerport was dining on all

+the indigestible luxuries that comprise the New England Sunday dinner.

+As for the college--well, the college was at the depot awaiting the

+arrival of the 2.12 train.

+

+"Going down to welcome the victors?" asked the professor gaily.

+

+"Yes," answered Anthony. "And I guess you are too. Sort of late, aren't

+we?"

+

+He produced his big gold watch, removed it tenderly from its pouch,

+and saw that it announced eight minutes after the hour. The professor

+nodded, and they mended their pace.

+

+"You didn't go down, did you?" asked the latter.

+

+"No, I wanted to, but couldn't afford it. But we got the news at

+Butler's by innings. We had quite a celebration all to ourselves before

+the rest of you got home."

+

+"Didn't keep you from taking a hand in the bonfire last night, though,

+did it?" laughed the professor.

+

+"No, I guess every one went out to the field. It must have been an

+interesting game, professor."

+

+"It was. But it was rather conducive to heart-disease toward the end.

+We came pretty near to being outplayed, and a good deal nearer to

+being beaten. When Robinson had the bases full in the ninth and their

+left-fielder rapped out that liner--well, I shut my eyes and held my

+breath! I didn't see Weatherby make his catch; when I looked he was

+throwing to third. Well, it was great, simply great!"

+

+"Yes, but I didn't quite understand what it was Jack did. If he hadn't

+caught the ball the other chaps would have made three runs, isn't that

+it?"

+

+"Well, two runs anyway, three probably; you see, the bases were full,

+and that hit was good for a two-bagger, I think, if Weatherby hadn't

+got his hands on it. It was a hot one, too, and 'way over his head.

+As it was, he put out the batsman by catching the ball, tagged second

+before the runner from that base could get back, and then threw to

+third and put out the man there. You see, a runner is required to hold

+his base until a fly has either been caught or has touched the ground.

+Well, Robinson thought Devlin's hit was a safe one; it surely looked

+like it; and every one ran. Then when Weatherby caught it they had to

+get back to their bases; but they couldn't. Condit was almost home. It

+was very pretty. Triple plays like that have been made before, but they

+don't happen very often. And then the difficulty of Weatherby's catch

+added to the brilliancy of the thing. Well, he'll be a hero now as long

+as yesterday's game is remembered."

+

+"I'm mighty glad," said Anthony quietly. "Jack's had sort of a hard

+time of it, take it all 'round. I'm glad things look better for next

+year."

+

+"Oh, he can have pretty near anything he wants after this," laughed

+the professor. "I'm quite as well pleased as you are, Tidball. There's

+one thing, however--" He hesitated. "We can't get around the fact that

+Weatherby's been largely to blame for his own unhappiness, Tidball.

+We're both friends of his, and we can afford to recognize the truth. It

+was his duty, to himself and more especially to others, to put himself

+right. He should have explained why he apparently made no effort to

+go to the rescue of that boy in the river. It looked bad; I saw the

+whole thing, and to all appearances it was just a case of cowardice.

+I was mistaken; and I said what was in my mind, which was a still

+greater mistake. But don't you see, Tidball, he should have spoken up

+and said that he couldn't swim. None would have blamed him then. He

+had no right to allow others to misjudge him. Then, too, his attitude

+wasn't of the kind to attract friends to him. From what I can make out

+he appears to have taken umbrage because the fellows didn't seek him

+and make his acquaintance when he first came, and subsequently repelled

+every advance by his apparent indifference and self-sufficiency. It

+was--unfortunate."

+

+"Yes, I guess you're right. But I can't altogether blame Jack, for I

+know just how sensitive he is. Sometime he'll get over it, but it's

+something you can't change at once. Wasn't that the whistle?"

+

+"I didn't hear anything, but if you like we'll sprint a bit."

+

+And they did, reaching the station just as the train rolled in, and

+the victorious baseball team and attendants descended into the dense

+throng of students to an accompaniment of wild cheers. For a moment

+the players were swallowed from sight. Then they came into view again

+on the shoulders of privileged friends, and were borne to the three

+hacks that were to take them in triumph up to the college. Jack caught

+a brief glimpse of Anthony's tall form as he was borne, swaying and

+bobbing, across the platform, and waved a hand to him. Then, with the

+cheering crowd jostling and shoving about the carriages, the journey

+was begun.

+

+Jack found himself in the second of the hacks, sandwiched between

+Billings and Knox. Facing them, on the front seat, sat King, Motter,

+and Showell. As they turned into the Square, the horses prancing

+excitedly because of the crowd and the noise, Jack caught a glimpse

+of the carriage ahead and of Joe Perkins leaning out to shake hands

+with the nearest of his admirers. There was no attempt at conversation

+between Jack and his companions. Even had the tumult allowed it they

+were all too sleepy and tired to talk much.

+

+Training had ended for the season with the ending of the game. They had

+remained in Collegetown as Robinson's guests, and had been dined, and,

+later, had attended a performance at the little Opera House in company

+with their hosts. After that they had returned to the hotel, assembled

+in Joe's room, and chosen a new captain. The honor had fallen to King.

+There had been no dissenting voice. King, although only a junior next

+year, was already a veteran player, having captained his school team

+before coming to Erskine, and having played two years with the varsity.

+Jack was pleased. He liked King better than any of the fellows who

+would be eligible for the next year's nine. And King, he believed,

+liked him.

+

+Jack forgot the cheers and the singing and the enthusiastic throngs

+that filled the sidewalks and almost surrounded the carriage, and

+closing his eyes, leaned back and gave himself over to thought. In

+three days the term would come to an end, and he would go home for the

+summer, a summer which promised to be one of the pleasantest of his

+life. Anthony was to visit him in July for a week, and later, if all

+went well, he was to spend a few days in Jonesboro, and finish his

+natational education with surf bathing. Then, in September, Erskine

+once more. But what a difference there would be! He would return to

+college to find fellows not merely willing but eager to claim his

+acquaintance, to call him friend. The stigma of cowardice would no

+longer be placed upon him; rather he would be looked upon as a hero,

+as the one who had saved the college from defeat.

+

+Already he had tasted the intoxicating draft of popularity. Ever since

+the crowd had poured on to the field the day before he had never for an

+instant been allowed to forget that the college looked upon him as one

+whom it was a pleasure to honor. The time when he had read "Coward!" in

+each averted face seemed very dim and far. And yet the vindication of

+which he had dreamed then, a vindication of his physical courage, had

+not come. Well, perhaps next year----

+

+He came to earth with a start. King had leaped to his feet, and was

+staring excitedly down the street. The tumult had changed from joyous

+cheers to cries of alarm. The crowd about the carriage was frantically

+struggling toward the sidewalks and above its voice sounded the

+pounding of hoofs on the hard road. Jack turned and looked. Behind

+them, sweeping down the narrow street between the fleeing throngs,

+swayed the third hack, the horses, frightened beyond control, plunging

+forward with outstretched heads. On the box the driver tugged vainly

+at the lines and shouted warnings to the crowd. A moment or two and a

+collision was inevitable.

+

+Their own driver had heard and seen; the hack sprang forward, and King

+tumbled into Jack's arms. At the same instant Showell struggled to his

+feet with pale, drawn face, and, with an inarticulate groan of terror,

+threw open the carriage door and leaped blindly into the road. Over and

+over he rolled in the path of the oncoming team. Jack pushed King from

+him, and in a moment was balancing himself on the sill, clinging to

+the woodwork beside him. Some one strove to get by him, and he pushed

+him back.

+

+"Stay where you are," he shouted.

+

+Then he jumped.

+

+As he did so he saw dimly the crowd crushing back against the shops,

+panic-stricken, struggling for safety. He landed and kept his feet, and

+even before the momentum had passed had swung himself about, and was

+racing back down the street toward the motionless form of Showell and

+the plunging horses. As he ran there was no fear in his heart; rather

+an exultant consciousness of power; here was the opportunity to wipe

+out forever the stigma of cowardice.

+

+"It's my inning at last!" he thought gladly.

+

+If it has taken long in the telling, yet in the doing it was the matter

+of a moment. He reached the inert body of Showell, and, with desperate

+strength, sent it rolling toward the sidewalk. Then the horses were

+upon him. With a gasp for breath he leaped forward, arms outstretched,

+as it seemed into the path of death.

+

+[Illustration: With a gasp for breath he leaped forward.]

+

+But brief as had been his moment of preparation, he had not misjudged.

+His clutching hands caught at rein and mane, and he was swept off his

+feet and borne onward. Then his left hand found a place beside the

+right, and with all his weight back of the bit and the horse's hoofs

+grazing his legs at every plunge, he clung there desperately with

+closed eyes. For an instant there was no diminishment of the pace; then

+the horse's head came down, and Jack's feet again touched earth. Plunge

+after plunge followed; a confusion of cries and cheers filled his ears;

+the team veered to the left, and his feet felt the sidewalk beneath

+them. There was a crash as the heavy pole splintered against one of

+the granite posts of the college fence, and Jack, striking violently

+against something that drove the last breath from his body, loosed his

+hold and fell backward into darkness.

+

+       *       *       *       *       *

+

+When he opened his eyes again, a minute later, he was lying, weak,

+shaken, and gasping, just inside the fence, his swimming head supported

+on the knee of Professor White. About him excited yet kindly faces

+looked down, while on the sidewalk the trembling horses were being

+unharnessed from the carriage. He strove to sit up, but the professor

+restrained him.

+

+"Hurt, Weatherby?" he asked.

+

+Jack stretched himself carefully, shook his head, and struggled into a

+sitting posture.

+

+"No," he gasped, "all right; breath--knocked out--that's all."

+

+"Well, sit still a minute." Jack obeyed, and closed his eyes. About

+him were low voices and whispers, and his name being repeated over and

+over. Then he became aware of a sudden commotion, and opened his eyes

+to see Anthony pushing his way through the ring.

+

+"I found him," he gasped. "He's coming right over. How is he?" He

+dropped to his knees at Jack's side, sending an anxious glance at the

+professor.

+

+"Nothing broken; just out of breath."

+

+Anthony seized Jack's hand and held it tightly, his broad mouth working

+yet unable to voice his words. Jack grinned up into his face.

+

+"You're a sight, Anthony," he said. "You've gone and lost your specs.

+Help me up." The professor nodded. Anthony seized him about the

+shoulders and lifted him to his feet. Jack tried his legs tentatively,

+and found them apparently sound. Then he turned to Anthony.

+

+"Showell?" he asked anxiously.

+

+"He's all right, Jack; just stunned a bit from the fall."

+

+"Take him over to his room, Tidball," said Professor White. "I'll send

+the doctor when he comes."

+

+The throng made way for them. As they passed through, Anthony

+supporting Jack as carefully as though the latter were a basket of

+eggs, the crowd found its voice. Jack glanced into some of the faces

+and read therein a new respect and liking. He dropped his eyes, the

+color flooding into his cheeks, and hurried on. The throng grew

+momentarily. In front it broke and parted, and Joe Perkins and Tracy

+Gilberth confronted them.

+

+"All right, Jack?" panted Joe.

+

+"Of course I am," Jack muttered sheepishly.

+

+"All right, then. Up you go, old man!" Before he could resist he found

+himself on the shoulders of Anthony and Joe, with Tracy supporting him

+behind.

+

+"Let me down, you idiots!" he pleaded.

+

+But they paid no heed. The individual voicing of approval suddenly

+merged into a confused cheering that grew and grew in volume until

+Jack's remonstrances were drowned beneath it. He clung to Anthony's

+head, and tried to look as though he didn't mind, and only succeeded

+in looking like a thief on the way to the stocks. Of late, he silently

+marveled, he seemed to be continually swaying about on fellows'

+shoulders!

+

+Near the museum the chaos of sound took form and substance, and Jack,

+still somewhat confused and dizzy, found that he was bobbing along in

+time to the loud, deep, and measured refrain of "_Weatherby! Weatherby!

+Weatherby!_"

+

+

+THE END

+

+

+

+

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+

+

+

+

+ Transcriber's Notes:

+

+ --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).

+

+ --Except for the frontispiece, illustrations have been moved to

+   follow the text that they illustrate, so the page number of the

+   illustration may not match the page number in the List of

+   Illustrations.

+

+ --Printer, punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently

+   corrected.

+

+ --Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.

+

+ --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.

+

+ --The Author's em-dash and long dash styles have been retained.

+

+

+

+

+

+

+End of Project Gutenberg's Weatherby's Inning, by Ralph Henry Barbour

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