diff options
Diffstat (limited to '76800-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 76800-0.txt | 7214 |
1 files changed, 7214 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/76800-0.txt b/76800-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1699b82 --- /dev/null +++ b/76800-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7214 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76800 *** + + + + + + BASES FULL! + + + + +By RALPH HENRY BARBOUR + + +_Yardley Hall Series_ + + FOURTH DOWN + FORWARD PASS + DOUBLE PLAY + WINNING HIS Y + GUARDING THE GOAL + FOR YARDLEY + AROUND THE END + CHANGE SIGNALS + + +_Purple Pennant Series_ + + THE LUCKY SEVENTH + THE SECRET PLAY + THE PURPLE PENNANT + + +_Hilton Series_ + + THE HALF-BACK + FOR THE HONOR OF THE SCHOOL + CAPTAIN OF THE CREW + + +_Erskine Series_ + + BEHIND THE LINE + WEATHERBY’S INNING + ON YOUR MARK + + +_The “Big Four” Series_ + + FOUR IN CAMP + FOUR AFOOT + FOUR AFLOAT + + +_The Grafton Series_ + + RIVALS FOR THE TEAM + HITTING THE LINE + WINNING HIS GAME + + +_North Bank Series_ + + THREE BASE BENSON + KICK FORMATION + COXSWAIN OF THE EIGHT + + +_Wyndham Series_ + + THE FIGHTING SCRUB + BASES FULL + HOLD ’EM, WYNDHAM! + + +_Books Not In Series_ + + THE LOST DIRIGIBLE + FOR THE FREEDOM OF THE SEAS + KEEPING HIS COURSE + THE BROTHER OF A HERO + FINKLER’S FIELD + DANFORTH PLAYS THE GAME + THE ARRIVAL OF JIMPSON + FOR THE GOOD OF THE TEAM + UNDER THE YANKEE ENSIGN + BENTON’S VENTURE + THE JUNIOR TROPHY + THE NEW BOY AT HILLTOP + THE SPIRIT OF THE SCHOOL + THE PLAY THAT WON + INFIELD RIVALS + FOLLOW THE BALL + + + + +[Illustration: JEFF WOUND UP AND PITCHED] + + + + + BASES FULL! + + BY + RALPH HENRY BARBOUR + AUTHOR OF “THE FIGHTING SCRUB,” “INFIELD RIVALS,” ETC. + + + [Illustration] + + + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + NEW YORK :: 1925 :: LONDON + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY + + + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + + + CONTENTS + + + PAGE + I. THE WINNING GOAL 1 + II. THE TRIUMVIRATE 11 + III. CANDIDATES FOR THE NINE 24 + IV. MR. BINGHAM ENTERTAINS 36 + V. TOM CONFIDES 48 + VI. PSYCHOLOGY 59 + VII. A STRANGER LOOKS ON 72 + VIII. VACATION VISITS 85 + IX. “THE OLD WILL POWER” 99 + X. “FIGHT! FIGHT!” 112 + XI. TOM HITS A “JOLLY CRASH” 122 + XII. THE BATTLING FLIVVER 134 + XIII. TOM PAYS A CALL 146 + XIV. INSIDE STUFF 158 + XV. WATTLES IS CARELESS 168 + XVI. A DOUBLE DEFEAT 179 + XVII. LORING GOES SCOUTING 190 + XVIII. WYNDHAM WINS 204 + XIX. WALKING PAPERS 214 + XX. CLIF GETS AN ERROR 232 + XXI. WATTLES INTERVENES 243 + XXII. THE FINAL GAME 254 + XXIII. BASES FULL! 262 + + + + + BASES FULL! + + + + + CHAPTER I + + THE WINNING GOAL + + +“_Shoot! Shoot!_” + +The Wyndham forwards had swept down the rink, successfully eluding +Wolcott’s defense, and now Captain Cooper slid the puck gently to the +left as the enemy point checked desperately, and from the audience, for +the moment forgetting chilled feet and numbed fingers, the shout came +exultantly, imploringly: + +“Shoot! Shoot!” + +Ogden took the pass, but a Wolcott wing slashed wildly at his stick and +the defending cover point dashed back to the beleaguered goal and the +chance was gone. Ogden did shoot, but the puck struck the end of the +net and a Wolcott skater hooked it to him and, pursued by Ogden, swept +behind the goal. A fracas in the further corner followed and then a +brown-legged player was off down the rink and Wyndham hastened to cover. + +It was the last period and only a few minutes remained. The score was +still a tie at 6 to 6. The visiting team had started the game in +whirlwind fashion, scoring twice before the Blue had found its pace. +Then Wyndham had tallied on a lift from near the center of the rink by +Raiford, and that lucky shot had nerved the home team to faster play. +Wolcott had scored a third tally from a furious mix-up in front of goal +when the rubber had slid from some one’s skate and edged past a corner +of the net. At 3 to 1 the game had stayed until, close to the end of +the period, Wyndham, using a five-man attack, had overwhelmed the +adversary and netted a clean shot from directly in front of the goal. +Captain Cooper, Wyndham’s right wing, had put that in. + +After the intermission Wolcott had again forced the fighting, and +Craigie, goal keeper for the home team, had been fairly battered with +the puck until at last it got by him for Wolcott’s fourth score. Coach +Hilliard had substituted Cowden for Jensen at cover point then, and +subsequently the enemy had experienced more difficulty in reaching +shooting distance. Cowden had proved himself more alert than his +predecessor on attack, as well, and Wyndham’s next tally was a result +of his “get away” followed by a quick backward pass to Raiford and a +sizzling shot from a hard angle. Wyndham had again scored less than +a minute later when Captain Cooper had taken the puck into enemy +territory, skating along the boards, and, after bowling over the outer +defense, passed to Raiford in front of point and then, when the center +slid it back to him, slipped it craftily past the goal keeper’s feet +with a mere flick of his stick. + +From 4 to 4 the score had leaped quickly to 6 to 6, each team winning +alternate goals. Couch, Wyndham’s point, had been sent off for illegal +checking and a Wolcott forward for loafing off-side. Jeff Adams, who +had taken Couch’s position, had proved an improvement, for, although +light, he had broken up several attacks. Still later Coles had relieved +Cragie at goal. Now, with the score still even and only a handful +of minutes to play, all indications pointed toward an extra period. +Wyndham wanted to win to-day’s contest, for it was the deciding test in +the three-game series with her old rival――Wolcott Academy. Wyndham had +lost the first, played on her home rink, but had romped off with the +second, played at Cotterville. So far this school year the Dark Blue +had proved supreme in football and had been defeated in basket ball; +the deciding contest of the latter sport was still only a week old. A +victory in hockey would atone for the basket ball repulse; indeed, more +than atone, since at both Wyndham and Wolcott hockey was a major sport +and basket ball a minor. Besides, Wolcott had carried off the hockey +palm last winter, and while that fact might be forgotten by many of the +onlookers it was well remembered by the players. + +Sitting on the bench, sweatered and blanketed, Clifton Bingham +cast increasingly anxious glances toward the coach. Clif was only a +substitute left wing; whether a first or second substitute he had +never been able to determine; but he had taken his place in four of +the eleven games played since ice had formed on the little pond and +hadn’t done so badly. That was Clif’s opinion, at least. It was also +the opinion, perhaps, not wholly unprejudiced, of Messrs. Kemble +and Deane, who, with Clif, constituted what they themselves termed +“The Triumvirate,” an offensive and defensive coalition of a month’s +standing. It was undoubtedly natural that Messrs. Kemble and Deane +should think well of their comrade’s hockey and that they should say +so, and it was just as natural that Clif who, in spite of inherent +modesty, liked to think well of himself and his deeds, should be +impressed by their judgment. But what bothered Clif sometimes was +that admiration for his hockey playing seemed not to extend to the +coach. The coach was “Pinky” Hilliard, instructor in modern languages +and Junior English. “Pinky” was new at this job. As an assistant +football coach he had made good for several years, but not until last +December had he been selected by a puzzled Athletic Committee to take +charge of the hockey team. Good hockey coaches, unlike football or +baseball coaches, don’t grow on every bush! But Mr. Hilliard had done +well. There was no doubt as to that. After a poor start, the team had +entered the third week in January and a winning streak simultaneously, +and since the Lovell game, the third consecutive defeat, had come +triumphantly through seven contests, losing only the first game +with Wolcott. Just the same, in Clif’s opinion at least, Pinky was +handicapped by one fault: he was blind――or perhaps near-sighted――to +the abilities of Clifton Cobb Bingham, Third Class. Not that Pinky +hadn’t used Clif, for he had; there had been the Horner game in which +Clif had, miraculously as it seemed to him, shot a clean goal from a +forty-degree angle just before the enemy point had sent him rolling +over on the ice. And two or three other games, as well, in one of which +he had also scored, although less spectacularly. But here it was the +last contest of the year, the biggest game of the big games, and the +time was almost up! And Ogden was still playing left wing and Clif +Bingham was still huddling on the bench with his skates in a snowbank +and his stick clasped by gloved but slowly congealing fingers. Clif, +hazarding another glance at the coach’s rapt but calm countenance, +reflected that the other two members of the Triumvirate were going +to be seriously displeased with Pinky if he didn’t soon recall the +existence of a certain substitute! + +Play stopped while the Wolcott cover point and captain recovered from +the effects of a violent collision with the boards and the Wyndham +team gathered panting about Captain Cooper and indulged in hurried, +low-voiced conversation. Clif watched and speculated and hoped that +Cooper would notice him; and then, lest he might seem to be courting +recognition, relapsed against the back of the bench, partly obscuring +himself behind Joe Hanbury’s broad bulk. Some one further along the +bench asked about the time and Mr. McKnight, timekeeper, responded +callously with “Four minutes and twenty seconds!” Gee only four +minutes! Clif leaned forward again into sight. So did at least five +other youths. This was no time for reticence! Captain Cooper pushed +from the group and skated toward the barrier. Planting his stick in +the bank of snow beyond it, he leaned forward and spoke to Pinky. Clif +couldn’t hear what he said, but when the captain’s eyes swept along +the huddled, blanketed line on the bench he met them squarely. Perhaps +Cooper had been seeking some one beyond Clif, but his gaze stopped. For +an instant he stared back at Clif, still talking. Then he smiled very +suddenly and nodded. Ever after that Clif insisted that Cooper had the +most wonderful smile in all the world! Coach Hilliard leaned forward +and his gaze, too, rested on Clif. Then he said something else to +Cooper and waved a hand, and Clif, arising suddenly, tripped over his +stick and fell across the barrier. Both Cooper and Pinky were grinning +when Clif reached them, although they pretended they weren’t. + +“Left wing, Bingham,” said the coach. “Watch Houston and cover him +close every minute. Go in and see if you can beat him. Don’t be afraid +of smashing into him. He can’t hurt you. All right, Ogden! That’s +enough!” + +Clif was over the boards in record time, shorn of his blanket but still +battling with a reluctant sweater. A kind-hearted schoolmate reached +across the barrier and helped him out of it; Clif panted “Thanks!” +and swung off, tapping his stick, trying hard to get his cold muscles +limbered up in the brief moments remaining. Afraid of Houston! Where +did Pinky get that stuff, he wondered. He wasn’t afraid of the whole +Wolcott team. Of course they might be better than he; skate better, +handle their sticks better, shoot better; but they couldn’t any of them +_try_ harder! + +The Wolcott captain, once more on his skates, ambled groggily about, +watched anxiously by his team mates, and at last signified his desire +to continue hostilities. The referee skated away from the boards and +lifted his whistle. Players hurried to positions. There was a shrill +twe-e-et and the battle went on. Wolcott snared the puck from the +face-off and shot along the ice, forming quick formation. Cover point +went over to the left, tried desperately to stop the hurtling disk and +found himself passed. The attack swept into goal. Clif hovered about +Houston, but the puck went across to the other side and there was a +quick shot. Coles slipped to the right and the disk bounded away +from a leg guard. Clif pushed toward it, but Raiford swung past and +hooked it. A Wolcott player challenged him and Raiford fed the puck +down the rink. Skates ground and clanged as the teams sped in pursuit. +The audience, mostly home-team sympathizers, yelled continuously. The +puck shot hither and yon, back and forth, banged against the boards, +flew through the air, skimmed the ice, yet remained safely away from +both nets. Precious moments sped. Time and again overeagerness brought +the shrill whistle for off-side. Both Blue and Brown were striving +desperately now, sacrificing science for main force. The playing grew +more and more ragged as it became harder. Teamwork almost disappeared, +in spite of the captains’ frantic appeals, and individual effort, save +for brief flashes of cohesion, took the place of formation play. One +minute passed and another. The period entered its final two and still +the game was undecided and, from all indications, likely to remain so +until an extra “sudden-death” period arrived. + +Clif had followed instructions implicitly, holding to the tall, +fast-skating and elusive Houston like a limpet. The big brown-hosed +right wing had more than once showed impatience and more than once +vented his wrath by ungentle administrations of his stick against +Clif’s legs. But Clif didn’t feel the blows; at least not then. He +continued to dog Houston’s every move, and such covering, while it +mitigated against Clif’s usefulness as an attacking player, certainly +mitigated quite as much against Houston’s value in a similar capacity. +Twice at least Clif was able to tell himself with grim satisfaction +that his close attention to the big Wolcott chap had prevented a shot. + +Captain Cooper stole the puck close to the Wolcott goal and set off +with it, alone for the moment and unaided, while shrill shouts and +yells of triumph hailed his progress. Dodging right and left, skating +from side to side of the rink, he eluded the enemy defenders until, at +last, he had an unchallenged shot. Just before a Wolcott man plunged +at him he slammed the puck viciously at the net. But the Brown’s goal +keeper threw himself in front of it and it rebounded, and before a +second Wyndham player could reach it the Wolcott point had whipped the +disk to the boards and another attempt had failed. + +There was a frantic struggle for possession in the corner and then +the disk went flying back up the rink to be knocked down by Cowden +who, in spite of a hundred protests, fed it back to the forwards. It +was Houston who tried for the puck, touched but missed it and put +Clif on-side. Clif hooked the rubber from just in front of Houston’s +reaching blade, slid it to the right for a team mate to take, saw to +his consternation that no team mate was there and so went after it +again himself. Houston was beside him, very free with his stick, but +Clif only blinked when the blows met his shin guards, and pulled the +puck toward him. + +What happened after that will always remain a great mystery to Clif. +To his surprise the puck was in front of him, traveling right, left, +straight ahead, at the direction of his stick. But surprise lasted +only an instant. Then came chaos. He was threatened in front and from +the right, forced to the boards, forced away from them, half checked +once. Yet by some marvelous chance the little hard-rubber disk lay +always right at the tip of his stick. Somehow he kept his feet, he who +had so often fallen ingloriously with far less excuse, and somehow he +wormed and dodged and battered his way to the Wolcott goal. At the +last moment, when cries from Cooper and from Raiford imploringly urged +him to pass, he slid the puck a yard to the left, staggered under the +impact of the point’s desperate check, whirled precariously around on +one skate and, the goal keeper’s scowling countenance looming large and +close, made a despairing sweep with his stick. After that he crashed +against an iron of the net, rebounded, and slid across the ice in a +sitting position until brought up by the boards. But the goal umpire +had flung up a hand, Wyndham was shrieking like mad and to Clif, still +dazed, came the sweet knowledge that the puck had been caged and that +the Dark Blue team had won! + + + + + CHAPTER II + + THE TRIUMVIRATE + + +As though realizing that, with the end of the hockey schedule, his +services were no longer needed, King Frost retired three days after +the Wolcott game. Wyndham awoke to find a warm sun in full command and +the earth exceedingly moist and squishy. Little rills flowed along the +edges of the paths, water dripped from the roofs, and from all sides, +if one listened, came the chuckling murmur of awakening spring. That +evening, after supper, the Triumvirate assembled in a first floor room +of East Hall. There was nothing unusual in this, however, since the +Triumvirate did the same thing almost every evening. There was a full +attendance, not a member being absent. Had the secretary――supposing +there was one――called the roll it would have gone like this: + +“Clifton Cobb Bingham.” + +“Here!” + +“Loring Deane.” + +“Here!” + +“Thomas Ackerman Kemble.” + +“Uh-huh!” + +But there wasn’t any secretary. Nor any other officers. Nor, for that +matter, any organization. One evening shortly after the holidays, Tom, +commenting on the unfailing regularity with which he and Clif adjourned +from Dining Hall to Loring’s room, added: “Anybody would think this was +a sewing circle or a club or something.” + +“Let’s have it a club,” suggested Clif. “The East Hall Literary and +Recreation Club.” + +“I’d like to know what’s literary about it,” Tom objected. + +“I am. You and Loring play chess and I read his books. Well, if you +don’t like that, how about making it a secret organization? Call it the +D. K. B.” + +“What’s that stand for?” asked Tom suspiciously. “Don’t Kome Back or――” + +“Those are our initials, dumb-bell.” + +“Oh! Well, that sounds all right, but――” + +“We might call it the Club of Three,” offered Loring. “Or――wait a +minute! What’s the word for three? Trio? No, tri――triumvirate! The +Triumvirate! What’s wrong with that?” + +“Great! It sounds important,” said Tom. “Only, before I accept +membership I want to ask one simple question. Are there any dues?” + +“No dues, no initiation fee! A strictly fraternal, non-partisan, +offensive and defensive alliance! ‘One for all and all for one!’” + +“That’s in _The Three Muskeneers_,” said Tom. + +“The Three――_what_?” asked Clif. + +Tom repeated the information. “You know, the story about the three +guys――only there were four of ’em――who――” + +“_The Three Guardsmen_,” interrupted Loring gravely. + +“Well, I’ve always heard it called _The Three Muskeneers_. A fellow +named Dumas wrote it. That the same one?” + +“Quite,” said Loring, and Clif said: “I like your title better, though, +Tom.” + +“What’s the matter with it? If you’re so smart I can show you the book +in the library. I’ve got it at home, too. I guess I know!” + +“Sure it isn’t ‘_Musketeers_’ instead of ‘_Muskeneers_’?” + +“Huh? Is it? Heck, I always did wonder what a muskeneer was! Well――” +Tom leaned back, grinning――“I never was much on literature! If you +don’t believe me, ask Mr. Wyatt!” + +So that is how the Triumvirate started. It was a sonorous, mouth-filling +word, and they liked it. Of course, it was only a joke, yet after a week +or two they began to sort of believe in it and lost the habit of smiling +when they spoke of it. In some manner it came to be accepted that the +borrowed slogan of “One for all, all for one!” meant what it said, +and while no opportunity had yet presented that called on them +metaphorically to draw swords from scabbards and stand shoulder to +shoulder against a common enemy, still the spirit was there. + +This evening, which, to be quite exact, was the evening of the +twenty-sixth day of February, Tom, noting that the chessboard had not +been set out, looked an inquiry and Loring smiled apologetically. +“Let’s not play to-night, Tom,” he said, “if you don’t mind. Wattles +beat me just before supper, and now I’d rather do something I’ve got +a show at; such as talk. You know they say that conversation is fast +becoming a lost art.” + +“Heck,” said Tom, “I haven’t noticed it. And you wouldn’t think so +if you’d heard ‘Alick’ chewing the rag to me this afternoon. Gosh, +I’ll bet that guy invented conversation! He knows more words than the +dictionary, and he sure can string them together!” + +“What,” inquired Clif, smiling, “was the subject of Mr. Wyatt’s talk?” + +“Aw, shut up,” growled Tom. “Say, honest, fellows, what’s the good of +learning about a lot of queers that died a hundred years ago? This +Washington Irving, for one. What did he ever do for the Republican +Party?” + +“Don’t you like his stuff?” asked Clif maliciously. “Why, I’m getting +an awful kick out of it!” + +Tom said “Humph!” disgustedly and Loring chuckled. “Tom’s what you +might call a Modernist,” said the latter. “He prefers his literature +fresh, like his rolls. He finds no pleasure in stale bread.” + +“I’ll say I don’t,” concurred Tom heartily. “Of course some of +the old-timers weren’t so punk. That guy Dumas, for instance. And +Shakespeare. Shakespeare’s stuff has a lot of punch generally, but +you’ve got to buckle down to it. Gosh, they must have had a heap of +time in those days, the way they spread the words around!” + +“Probably got paid by the word,” suggested Clif. + +“Some of them must have made a pile of dough, then! Alick would have +been rich, too, if he’d lived in Shakespeare’s time. I’ll bet that, at +five cents a word, he touched me for a hundred dollars this afternoon!” + +“Why don’t you study your English Lit,” asked Clif, “and not have to +listen to Mr. Wyatt’s homilies?” + +“Study! Heck, I do study! I read all the stuff he tells us to, but it +doesn’t _mean_ anything. I had a hunch the first time I set eyes on +that chap that I wasn’t going to like him.” + +“That’s a whopper,” said Clif. “You do like him, Tom. What you don’t +like is his line.” + +“Same thing,” grumbled Tom. “I wish I’d been born a Frenchman or a +Slovak or――or something so I wouldn’t have to dig through all this rot.” + +“Well, you take my advice, Tom, and get cozy with Alick before you try +baseball. Remember what happened last November!” + +“I’m not likely to forget,” answered the other moodily. “That doddering +Ancient Mariner almost queered me for football. If it hadn’t been +for you fellows――” Tom stopped and shook his head eloquently. “That +experience absolutely soured me on sailors, and I’ve never been able to +cheer for the president since.” + +“The president?” asked Loring, puzzled. + +“He’s got the name wrong,” laughed Clif. “Coleridge, Tom, and not +Coolidge wrote _The Ancient Mariner_.” + +“Coleridge? Well, I guess it’s the same name, only spelled differently.” + +“What I don’t understand,” said Clif, “is how you manage to get good +marks in your other courses and fall down flat in English.” + +“Because there’s some sense to the other stuff, you poor prune! Any one +can see that he’s got to know math and history and――well, yes, even +Latin, although I’m not strong for it. But, man to man, Loring, what’s +it going to get me to know about a loony old guy like that ‘Ancient +Mariner’ or read this _Sketch Book_ twaddle by Irving? Why didn’t he +stick to acting instead of――” + +“Tom, you’ll be the death of me yet!” gasped Clif. + +“What did I say then?” demanded Tom indignantly. “You give me a pain, +both of you!” But he grinned as though to signify that the pain wasn’t +acute. + +When he had stopped laughing Loring said: “Speaking of baseball, +doesn’t practice start this week?” + +“Thursday,” agreed Clif. + +“Are you going out?” + +“Yes. So is Tom.” + +“I don’t know yet if I am or not,” said Tom. “What’s the good of it +if I get in wrong with Alick and have to quit when the season’s half +through?” + +“Don’t get in wrong,” advised Clif cheerfully. + +“Huh, that’s easy enough to say!” + +“You’d better,” said Loring. “Clif can’t be the whole team, you know.” + +“I’ll be lucky if I get a place,” said Clif; “any sort of a place. I’ve +played some, but I’m not really much good, and I guess I’m likely to +find myself in fast company here.” + +“Heck,” said Tom, “I guess the bunch isn’t so wonderful. I notice that +they got a lot of wallopings last spring. I may not try for their old +team, but if I do try you can bet I’ll make it.” + +“Modest, shrinking little violet, isn’t he?” asked Clif of Loring. +“Hates himself to death, eh?” + +“That’s all right,” said Tom, “but I’ve seen some of the guys who +made the nine last year, and if I can’t play as good ball as they can +I’ll――I’ll――” + +“Quit?” suggested Clif. “Well, I haven’t your confidence, old son, and +if Mr. Connover lets me stick around on the second I’ll say ‘Thank +you.’” + +“I’ve heard,” remarked Loring, “that ‘Steve’ is a pretty good coach.” + +“I guess he is,” said Tom. “Anyway, he made a mighty good football +coach last fall when ‘Cocky’ went to the first. If he can coach +the nine as well as he coached the old Fighting Scrub he will be a +humdinger. Steve didn’t know an awful lot of football, but you wouldn’t +have suspected it, eh, Clif?” + +“He knew enough,” answered Clif. “If I had my way I’d wait a couple of +weeks before reporting for practice; cut out the gym stuff; swinging +clubs and all that; but they say he doesn’t like you to report late.” + +“I guess the gym stuff’s good for you,” said Tom. “Loosens up the old +muscles, you know. Me, I’ll be there for the whole awful program.” + +“Thought you said you didn’t know,” Clif chuckled. + +“Well,” answered Tom with entire composure, “I make up my mind quick. +I’ve decided to play since I said that. I’m going to try for second +base.” + +“I shall like that,” remarked Clif. “You’ll be where I can look out for +you while I’m pitching. I’d hate to have you in the outfield, Tom. No +telling what awful things you’d do.” + +“But you’re not going to try――” began Loring incredulously. + +“Him?” jeered Tom. “He couldn’t pitch down Oak Street without breaking +a window!” + +“Exaggerated, Tom, but containing a modicum of truth,” acknowledged +Clif. “But let me tell you, old son, that I’ve got as good a show to +pitch for Wyndham as you have to play second base!” + +“Is that so? Well, you just wait and see. Listen――” + +And while they listen let’s look them over, since for the next +four months we are going to see a good deal of them. Clifton +Bingham――introductions demand formality――was sixteen years of age――an +age which, by the way, was that of the other two occupants of the room, +although Tom was close to seventeen and Loring was Clif’s senior by +three months. Clif was tall for sixteen――sixteen and a half, to be more +exact――and rather slender. You wouldn’t have called him thin, though. +He had the appearance of being well-conditioned and looked as though he +might be fast; which he was. Good-looking without calling for the word +handsome――a word which fellows of his age detest when applied to one of +their sex――he owed his attractiveness more to expression than features. +The latter were clean-cut but a critical eye could have found fault +with them. He looked alert and he had a smile that you would have liked +immensely. He had made right end on the school team late in the season. +Like the other members of the Triumvirate, he had entered Wyndham last +September and was in the third class. + +Mr. Thomas Ackerman Kemble was also a football player and had captained +last fall’s scrub before he had been elevated, like Clif at the last +moment, to a half-back’s position on the big team. He was very good +looking; I had almost said handsome before I had thought; with the +sort of skin from which the tan never quite goes, very dark gray +eyes and brown hair that verged closely on the copper. In height he +was half an inch, perhaps, shorter than Clif, and he was perceptibly +heavier without being large. That half inch was not apparent since he +was extraordinarily straight of body and carried himself so that he +could have spared another half inch and still seemed as tall as the +other. Tom’s chin was rather assertive, but in spite of that he was +as good-natured and big-hearted as a mastiff; and, like a good many +good-natured fellows, he could be extremely stubborn. + +I have left Loring Deane to the last, which, since he happens to be the +host, is scarcely polite. But Loring requires rather more description +than his friends, and one is likely to postpone the larger task. It +seems almost necessary at last to make use of that proscribed word, +but I shan’t do it. I shall avoid it by saying that Loring was awfully +good looking, with the sort of features one associates with the Greek +heroes. He had hair that barely escaped being black and he brushed +it straight back from a high, broad forehead. His eyes were just as +dark as his hair, and they always had a sparkle in them. His skin was +fairer than that of his companions but it showed plenty of healthy +color. In fact, perfect health was perhaps the first thing you thought +of in connection with Loring, and perfect health is the one thing he +possessed to a lesser extent than any of the three. + +Health means bodily soundness, and Loring’s body was not sound. Under +the light rug which covered him from the waist down was a pair of legs +that just couldn’t be depended on to perform the ordinary functions +of legs. They looked all right, too, except that the muscles were +not as well developed as they should have been in a boy of his age. +The trouble was in the bones which, instead of building themselves +up as bones normally do, had gone in too heavily for lime. In short, +Loring’s legs suffered from calcification, which is the scientific way +of saying that the bones held too much chalk. Different doctors――and +Loring’s father, who was a very wealthy man, had employed many――had +different names for the boy’s trouble, names varying in spelling and +length but all meaning about the same thing. Loring spent his days +in a wheel chair, and, while the physician who at present had him in +charge and who once every two or three months journeyed to Freeburg in +an eight thousand dollar car spoke hopefully of ultimate betterment +or even complete recovery, the probabilities were that Loring would +never get beyond crutches. The fact that he had always been as he +was now undoubtedly helped him to accept his fate with cheerfulness. +Perhaps at night, after the faithful Wattles had finished his careful +massaging of the refractory members and the lights were out, Loring +may have been visited by dark and rebellious thoughts, but if so, none +would have surmised it. To Clif and Tom, as well as to all others who +were intimate with him, his good spirits and patience were things to +marvel at. Wyndham was proud of Loring Deane. Proud because, as the son +of Sanford Deane, one of the country’s wealthiest and most prominent +citizens, he lent a certain cachet to the school, but prouder because +he had so many qualities that boys whole-heartedly admire wherever +found; pluck in adversity, cheerfulness, determination to accept no +favors based on his disability and, finally, a keen mind. + +To obviate the difficulty of stairs Loring had been given a room on +the first corridor of East Hall, next to the office of Mr. Clendennin, +Head of the Junior School. Because it would have been awkward for him +to sit at the table in Dining Hall his meals were served to him in his +room by his attendant, the aforementioned Wattles. Save in these two +particulars, however, Loring received no favors, nor sought any. In +studies he was brilliant, although he spent no more time in preparation +than did Tom. He was an ardent football lover and, in fact, an +enthusiast on every sort of sport. And as for chess――well, Wattles +had finally progressed to a point where he could occasionally win, +but when Loring really put his mind on the game he could beat any one +in school. He had even bested “The Turk” recently, and “The Turk,” by +which impolite name Mr. Way, the mathematics instructor, was known, was +an old, old hand at the game! + +Having proved at some length, and conclusively in his own opinion, +why it was imperative for the nine to give him the position of second +baseman, Tom brought his remarks to a triumphant end. Whereupon two +things happened almost simultaneously. The gong out in the corridor +clanged, giving notice that study hour in assembly hall was imminent, +and the door of Loring’s room opened and Wattles appeared. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + CANDIDATES FOR THE NINE + + +Rather hard luck for you, after listening to prosy descriptions of +Clif, Tom and Loring, to have Wattles come on the scene! But Wattles +may be disposed of more briefly. Wattles was about thirty, tall, rather +lacking in flesh, with pale brown eyes――a sort of parchment brown they +were――a long nose and a retiring chin. Wattles was English. That is to +say he had been born in England, and, although he had spent the last +ten years in this country and no longer owed allegiance to the King, he +was still――and always would be――English in everything save the right +to vote! Wattles acted as nurse, valet, companion, secretary and in +numerous other capacities for Loring. He was so eminently respectable +that Tom, when in his society, felt positively raffish. Wattles wore +black on all occasions and never appeared without his square-crowned +black derby. When he walked to church in the village on Sunday +morning he encased his capable hands in dark-gray gloves, carried his +prayerbook and hymnal and looked far more sacerdotal than the minister +himself. Tom frequently declared that Wattles was “a scream and a +bully sort.” As to that the reader may judge for himself later. + +Wattles’ present return was to prepare Loring for study hour, and after +the visitors had hurried away to their respective rooms for their books +he proceeded methodically to his task. Loring was carefully lifted +from the arm chair in which he had been seated to the wheel chair. +Then Wattles selected the proper books from the table, together with a +scratch pad and a fountain pen, and laid them on a shelf that stretched +in front of Loring from one arm of the chair to the other. The rug was +laid across the boy’s knees and lightly tucked into place. After which, +with a final glance around, Wattles said: “Right, sir?” + +“Right-o,” replied Loring, and Wattles laid hold of the handle-bar +across the back and propelled the chair through the door and along the +corridor to where, at the farther end, wide portals gave a glimpse +of the big hall. En route Loring said: “Wattles, I wish you’d look +around when you go back to the library and see what you can find about +baseball. There are probably some books there. Bring what you can, will +you?” + +“Baseball, Mr. Loring. Right, sir.” + +“Yes. I suppose you don’t know much about that game, do you, Wattles?” + +“I am not, Mr. Loring, what you might call well informed on the +subject. I have, though, witnessed several contests of professional +baseball and observed it closely, and while there are numerous points――” + +“I get you. Well, we’ll have to send for some books, I guess. You see, +Wattles, we’re going to play the game this spring.” + +“We, sir?” asked Wattles with a trace of surprise. + +“Oh, well, I mean Clif and Tom. You and I are going to look on, though, +and so it’s up to us to study the game thoroughly and get so we +understand the――the fine points, eh?” + +“Undoubtedly,” agreed Wattles. “A most interesting pastime, I’ve no +doubt, if one possesses a thorough knowledge of the intricacies.” + +“Sure! Don’t forget those books from the library.” + +Wattles looked almost pained as he pushed the chair to its customary +location at one side of the doorway and retired. Wattles never forgot. + +Two days later candidates for the Wyndham School Baseball Team +assembled in the gymnasium. While the rest of the school was contained +under one roof, with East, Middle and West Halls forming three sides +of a quadrangle, the gymnasium, new and well appointed, was set at a +little distance behind East Hall, with which it was connected by a +covered walk. This afternoon, since it was raining with the dogged +persistence of February rains in the Connecticut hills, the roofed +passage was much in vogue. Clif and Tom made use of it, as, a little +later, did Loring and Wattles. The candidates gathered in the baseball +cage on the ground floor, a big, well-lighted inclosure in which almost +any feat of the game might be accomplished save the hitting of anything +better than a single. Since the furnishings of the cage were meager, +consisting as they did of three backless benches along one side, most +of the fellows who had responded to the call stood either inside the +cage or in the corridor that bordered it, and conversed with such sang +froid as their relations with the team warranted. New candidates spoke +in low tones, or not at all, while they viewed curiously and sometimes +enviously the veterans of last year’s nine. Loring didn’t arrive until +Mr. Connover had made his appearance and was addressing the assembled +throng. The partition between cage and corridor was a wall, well padded +on the inner side, to a height of three and a half feet. Above that +a strong wire netting continued to the high ceiling. By sitting very +erect in his wheel chair and stretching just a little Loring could see +over the wall. Having set the chair in an inconspicuous place near +one corner of the cage, Wattles removed his black derby, wiped the +sweat-band with an immaculate handkerchief, returned the hat to his +head and the handkerchief to a pocket and set himself to a grave and +intent study of the proceedings. + +Mr. Connover said nothing particularly new nor inspiring. He dwelt +rather strongly on the fact that the candidates were due for a +fortnight or so of somewhat drudging drill and suggested that any +who wanted to withdraw had best do so before the squad reassembled. +“If,” proceeded the coach, “I find you here to-morrow I shall expect +you to stick for the duration. Last year we were fortunate enough to +get outdoors on the twentieth of March. This year it may be later, or +earlier. There’s no way of telling. But it’s safe to say that you’ve +got a good three weeks of indoor work ahead of you, and any of you who +can’t stomach that had better quit to-day.” + +Mr. Connover was not a large man, nor was he particularly impressive +in any way as viewed this afternoon. He had donned an old suit of blue +serge and a pair of stained white sneakers. “Steve” in charge of a +physics class and “Steve” speaking to a bunch of baseball candidates +were different persons. With the single exception of “Lovey” McKnight, +chemistry instructor, Mr. Connover was the youngest member of the +faculty, being twenty-nine. He had coached the baseball teams for two +years before this and had turned out at least average good teams. The +fact that only one of them had managed to secure the best two out of +three games with Wolcott was no reflection on the coach. + +“We have arranged a schedule for this spring that is two games longer +than last year’s,” Mr. Connover was saying now. “It’s a mighty good +schedule, and Manager Longwell and his assistants deserve praise for +working it up.” There was a faint, repressed cheer, and “Bi” Longwell, +hugging a large pad of paper to him on a bench, grinned. “We’re down +to meet some good teams, fellows, and we’ve simply got to play real +ball right from the start if we’re to make a decent showing by the end +of the season. Of course, it’s the Wolcott series we’re after, but we +aren’t going to throw any games away before we get to the big ones. I’d +like to see this spring a Wyndham team that will take three-fourths +of its games. We’ve got twenty-two scheduled. Probably four at least +won’t be played, because of weather conditions. I want this team to end +the season with fourteen victories, and if it doesn’t I’m going to be +disappointed in it. + +“We’ve got a lot of good material left over from last year to build +on, and we’ve got a fine captain.” There was a real cheer this time. +“Captain Leland is going to say a few words to you presently, and I +want you to give him strict attention. And we’ve got, I am sure, a +fine lot of new material to build with. So there’s no reason why we +shouldn’t get off to a running start and find our stride early. One +thing I must caution you about, fellows, and I say this earnestly. +Don’t think because you’re busy with baseball that you can neglect your +studies. The surest way to prove to me that you aren’t deserving of a +position on the team is to let down in class. If you do that you can’t +be depended on to finish out the season, and there’s no use wasting +time now on fellows who aren’t going to last and who won’t be on hand +when they’re needed most. Now, fellows, Captain Leland.” + +Leland, already standing, wrapped his hands more tightly in the hem of +an old gray sweat-shirt and faced the forty-odd boys while the chorus +of “A-a-ay!” died away. He was plainly embarrassed, but “Hurry”――he +had been christened Horace――wasn’t the sort to allow embarrassment to +keep him from doing what he had to do. Nor even to make him hesitate. +He began speaking before the shout of recognition and approval had +quite ceased, and Loring, listening and watching from beyond the wire +screening, lost the first few words. + +“――A few things I’d like to tell you about what we intend to do this +year. Coach Connover has spoken of the schedule and said that it’s +good. And it is. But it’s hard, too. We’ve got teams like Toll’s and +Broadmoor this year to buck against, and they’re good. And plenty +of hard teams that we’ve played before: Murray, Hoskins, Horner, +Cupples. We’re playing two games with Horner, and two with Highland and +Freeburg. And maybe only two with Wolcott, if we fight hard!” + +That called for applause and it was forthcoming. Hurry didn’t look at +first glance like a captain of baseball, or, for that matter, any +sort of a captain. He was of medium height, rather thin, with very +light-brown hair and a somewhat colorless complexion. Rather a wisp +of a chap as athletes go. But a moment’s observation corrected first +judgment. His steel-blue eyes were keen, his mouth was determined and +his countenance as a whole was, save when he smiled that infrequent +and oddly crooked smile of his, seriously intent. His movements were +abrupt, and when he started away his head always dropped until his chin +nearly rested on his chest. Some one had once said that Hurry did that +to decrease resistance to the wind! As a matter of fact, he was of the +nervous, quick-thinking and quick-acting type, a fellow who went into a +thing with, as the expression is, “all four feet,” and the lowered head +merely indicated that Hurry, having started for some other place, was +earnestly concentrating on how to get there as speedily as possible and +what to do when he arrived. + +“We’ve got thirteen home games and nine away, and some of the visits +are going to keep us busy! But that doesn’t matter. I mean it isn’t +going to matter if we just make up our minds to one thing; to be the +best baseball team that ever trained on the Wyndham field. Coach has +talked sense about――I mean――well, he always talks sense, of course――” +Hurry’s one-sided grin appeared momentarily, while the audience +laughed――“but he said a mouthful when he spoke about keeping in right +with faculty. I’ve been here three years, fellows, and I’ve seen teams +hurt more than once because some poor prune who should have known +better got in wrong at the Office and wasn’t there when he was needed. +Coach says we don’t want fellows with us who won’t study and keep their +end up in class, and that goes for me, too. + +“About this indoor stuff, now. Well, it won’t hurt you a bit, and I’d +hate to see any of you duck just because there’ll be a couple of weeks +of calisthenics. You won’t have to work any harder than Mr. Babcock +makes you work in gym class. And it’s necessary, too. I don’t want to +see any of you fellows quit without getting a fair try-out. Some of you +will quit later, because there’s only two teams to fill, but you leave +that to Coach Connover. He’ll tell you quick enough when he’s through +with you! Well, I guess that’s everything,” ended Hurry as the audience +chuckled in appreciation of the dry jest. “Just stick as long as you’re +needed, fellows; and do your best for the Team and the School. I know +your best will be good enough!” + +Somewhat to the surprise of the candidates, Mr. Connover announced that +nothing more was required of them that day. “Be sure to give your names +to the Manager before you go,” he added. “And that means all of you, +old or new. To-morrow we’ll meet on the floor at four-thirty.” + +Returning to West Hall, Tom remarked: “I wonder how Leland and I will +get on together around second. You know, Clif, second baseman and +shortstop have simply got to work together smoothly, and that guy +doesn’t look like a fellow who would take kindly to advice.” + +“From you?” jeered Clif. “I should hope not! Anyway, you and Hurry +Leland aren’t likely to see much of each other. He’s on the first, you +know.” + +“Meaning that I’ll only make the second, eh?” + +“Meaning you’ll be plaguy lucky if you make the bench! Say, I was sort +of looking around back there,” continued Clif as he followed Tom into +Number 34, “and I’ll bet there were twenty last year fellows on hand.” + +“What of it?” asked Tom, plumping himself into a chair. + +“What of it? Well, what chance have a couple of dunderheads like you +and me got, I’d like to know.” + +“Dunderhead yourself,” responded Tom, unruffled. “Dunderhead, me no +dunderhead, young feller. Listen. I’m an experienced ball player. I was +even a captain once.” + +“Who else was on the team?” laughed Clif. “Your old nurse?” + +“Well, of course, that was some time ago; when I was a mere lad of +twelve. Just the same we weren’t so rotten. We had a pitcher who could +strike out fellows weighing twenty pounds less than he did!” + +“What’s weight got to do with it?” asked Clif, puzzled. + +“I’m just telling you.” Tom chuckled. “We used to call him ‘Skel’; +short for Skeleton, you know. He was about ten years old, I guess, and +when he came on the field you couldn’t tell for sure whether he was +walking forwards or backwards. He was the same all round. And round is +just the word, too!” + +“And what did you play on the ‘Morristown Giants’?” + +“Wrong. We were the ‘Red Sox.’ I played catcher sometimes, and +sometimes I played third base and sometimes――” + +“You picked up bats. I know. Well, all that’s mighty interesting, Tom, +but I can’t just see it helping you much in the present crisis. Of +course you might tell it to Steve, but he’s sort of hard-boiled and――” + +“No, sir,” interrupted Tom determinedly, “I won’t attempt to influence +him. I propose to win the honor of playing second base by working up +from the ranks, like the rest of you.” + +“Very high-minded,” said Clif approvingly. “And, speaking of ranks, +I’ll bet you’ll be ranker than any.” + +“Say, joking aside, Clif, we _have_ got rather a cheek to try for that +team and hope to get anywhere. I didn’t see more than five or six other +third class fellows there.” + +“Glad you acknowledge it. Still, it isn’t going to do us any harm to +make a stab at it. We might cop something. You, anyway. You’ve played +more than I have.” + +“Well, heck, nothing venture, you know. Cheer up, old timer. You never +can tell. One of us may be saving the day yet with a timely clout. +Speaking of timely clouts, when I captained the old Red Sox――” + +“Brakes!” said Clif rudely. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + MR. BINGHAM ENTERTAINS + + +Well, that first fortnight of work for the baseball candidates _was_ +a good deal like drudgery. As Tom said, it wasn’t so hard, but it was +blamed monotonous. Led by Coach Connover, or sometimes by Captain +Leland, they went through a daily program of calisthenics that seemed +designed to acquaint them with the possession of muscles they had never +before even suspected. The ordinary setting-up exercises, amended to +suit the coach’s notions, began the session. After that they swung +clubs――at first in imminent danger from each other――and went through +strange exercises with dumb-bells, the latter to limber up wrist and +forearm muscles. Toward the latter part of the fortnight the day’s +program ended with instructions on holding and swinging the bat, but it +was not until the beginning of the third week that they abandoned the +gymnasium floor and moved into the cage. + +There were then forty-six candidates; not so many for a school which +held that term one hundred and eighty-four students. Still, as some +eighty of the latter number were either Junior School pupils or members +of the fourth class, and in both cases ineligible for school teams, +perhaps the showing wasn’t so bad, after all. Of the forty-six, eleven +had played with last season’s first team at one time or another, +although only five had taken part in the Wolcott series, and seven +more had been second team members. Most of the rest had had more or +less experience playing scrub baseball or, like Clif and Tom, were +newcomers at Wyndham. A number had won fame in other sports, for the +squad included nearly a dozen football players, several of the recently +disbanded basket ball team, several track men and three fellows who had +aided in the defeat of Wolcott on the ice. The latter were, besides +Clif, Raiford and Coles. In spite of the monotony, those drills usually +provided some amusement before they were over, and, on the whole, it +was all pretty good fun. + +Encouragingly, winter withdrew over the blue hills to the north during +the first week of March, and, while it took many mild days to thaw the +ground out, by the middle of the month word came that, barring more +rain or snow, the baseball candidates could count on getting out of +doors by the nineteenth. That announcement was cheering, for, although +in lieu of the diamond the cage provided a fine practice space, every +one longed to feel the spring of the turf under his feet and the wind +in his face. It was evident that the latter longing was due to be +satisfied, for no windier March ever visited Freeburg than this one. +But, since neither rain nor snow intervened before the anxiously +awaited Wednesday, the wind proved a friend rather than a foe, ably +aiding the sun to dry the already greening sod of the field. And on +Wednesday, in the face of a tearing westerly gale, but under the bluest +of blue skies, the Wyndham baseball squad romped out of the locker room +and across to the practice diamond as gayly as a lot of colts turned +out to pasture. + +I would like to be able to narrate that Clif and Tom had applied +themselves so diligently to the work in hand and showed such aptitude +for baseball that they were now marked members of the squad. But I +can’t. Their diligence had been――well, let us say normal. At times +it had been plainly in evidence; at other times it had waned. Indoor +practice doesn’t arouse enthusiasm, as a rule, after the novelty has +worn off. In short, when the squad went out to the field that Wednesday +afternoon Clif and Tom were just two possibilities amongst two score. + +The coach didn’t seem to take practice very seriously to-day. A number +of balls were given out and for twenty minutes or so these were tossed +about from one player to another, usually for a distance of no more +than twenty feet. A simple, easy appearing pastime, this, but one +which nevertheless, if correctly indulged in, called nearly every +muscle of the body into play and speedily warmed one up to the point +of perspiration――or beyond. In tossing as a preliminary to real work, +the ball, as Clif soon discovered, was not delivered you where you +could reach it the easiest but where you had to exert yourself to get +it; at one side, overhead, shoe-high; in brief, anywhere save where you +might reasonably expect it. Having caught it――or missed it――your play +was to snap it back as soon as possible in the general direction of +the next catcher; and the more general the direction the better. For +awhile this sort of thing seems real fun, and there is much laughter, +much shouting and many gymnastic performances, but after, say, ten +minutes the laughter subsides, suppressed groans succeed the shouts +and extraordinary attempts to capture the ball become fewer and fewer. +And by this time your body is in a healthy glow, you are probably +perspiring from every pore and you wish to goodness that Coach would +think up a new stunt! + +And presently he did. The candidates for pitcher went off by +themselves; Jeff Ogden, last season’s ace, Bud Moore, Erlingby, Frost. +With them went two others to catch their easy offerings. Manager +Longwell hit slow bunts to a selected few. For the rest there was +labor on the diamond or at the plate. With five men playing infield +and six sharing the further territory, with Pat Tyson in the box and +Assistant Manager Cotter behind him to feed the balls to him, the +remaining candidates took turns with the bat. They were warned against +slugging the ball, and it was infrequent that it went beyond the +infield. Long or fast throws were prohibited by the fielders and more +than once a too-energetic or too-ambitious player was reprimanded. The +outfielders caught or chased flies sent up by Gus Risley, but they +were not allowed to return the ball all the way to him in the air, and +when one committed that breach of the law he was fiercely called to +order by Jimmy Cunningham, catching for Gus. Jimmy was Second Assistant +Manager and fully aware of the dignity and authority connected with his +position. Frequent changes were made, and in the course of a half-hour +every one made the journey to the plate twice. When practice ended, +which it did very early, there were many tired youths among those who, +obeying instructions, trotted all the way back to the gymnasium; and, +despite that preliminary work indoors, there were many, many sore +muscles. + +By Saturday outdoor conditions were better. The turf lost its +sogginess, the base paths hardened and a chill wind no longer +endangered overheated bodies. By Saturday, too, most of the restrictions +had been removed and practice looked more like the genuine article. +There was even a three-inning game that afternoon between the newly +formed first and second squads, and, while no score was kept, there was +plenty of hard playing. Tod Raiford, outfield candidate playing with the +first squad, landed against one of Frost’s straight ones and hit it +almost to the center of the football field for four bases. To be sure, +second-squad members protested loudly that it had fallen foul, but since +the foul-line flags had not yet been put into place they couldn’t prove +it and Tod was given the benefit of the doubt. “Bi” Longwell, +officiating as umpire from behind the pitcher, gravely proclaimed it +fair, although since he had not left his position to judge its flight +there were those impolite enough to say that he didn’t know anything +about it. Cooper, catching for the second squad, good-naturedly offered +to settle the question after practice, with or without gloves, but Bi +threatened to fine him and Cooper subsided. + +Clif and Tom were allowed a few minutes of participation in that brief +contest, but their appearance with the second, Clif in left field and +Tom on third base, could not truthfully be said to add perceptible +strength to the team. Of the two only Tom went to bat, and the best +he could do was pop an easy foul to Catcher Cobham. Clif failed to +distinguish himself by even that much, since the first team batsmen +thoughtlessly failed to hit the ball anywhere near his position. +Nevertheless both boys ended that week with increased ambition and +enthusiasm. Also, it must be added, with decreased expectations of +winning renown on the diamond. There was no doubt but that, viewed +without prejudice, they were pretty small fry in the baseball sea. Tom +pretended, however, to believe that as the season progressed those in +command would discover his now concealed talent and install him at +some post of honor on the big team, preferably second base. Clif, on +the other hand, might easily have lost courage about that time and +modestly withdrawn from competition had it not been for Tom and Loring. +Tom’s argument was that you never could tell what was going to happen +and that an epidemic or an earthquake or something equally devastating +might any day wipe out a couple of handfulls of Clif’s rivals. “Then,” +added Tom reasonably enough, “you’d be mighty sorry you didn’t stick!” +Loring’s argument was that it would be the part of wisdom to stay with +the squad just as long as he was allowed to stay and learn all he could +so that next year, if not this, he would be all set to accept the +captaincy or any other little job that might be lying around! Perhaps +Clif’s own inclinations weighed more than advice, though, for, although +he was frequently discouraged by his own ineptitude and certain that +he wouldn’t survive the final cut in the squad, he had always believed +in finishing what he started. Not a bad belief to hold, that, for +persistence has often won where courage has failed. + +Clif’s father made one of his frequent visits to school the following +Sunday. Clif’s mother was dead, and he was the only child. In +consequence he and his father had been pretty close for many years, +and, until weather conditions had prevented during late January and +early February, Mr. Bingham had averaged two trips a month from +Providence by automobile. The present visit was the first for over +three weeks, and Clif forgot the self-consciousness that was likely +to assail him at such times and squeezed his father’s hand so hard +that Mr. Bingham flinched perceptibly. He rolled up to the Inn shortly +before church time, the blue car well spattered with mud, and Clif +didn’t have much time for conversation then. A few questions and +replies, an appointment for dinner at one――to be kept, however, as +soon as church was over, and accompanied by Tom――and Clif had to hurry +back to school. As the Freeburg Inn was only a block from the school +entrance he was able to make the journey in three minutes flat. + +Usually Clif made up a quartet for dinner at the Inn by inviting two of +his friends, generally Tom and Walter Treat. Walter was Clif’s roommate +in Number 17 West Hall, a quiet, studious, rather self-contained youth +of seventeen. Clif liked him thoroughly, although not so well as Tom, +and Clif’s father had long since fallen victim to his attractions, +the greatest of which, in Mr. Bingham’s judgment, being an ability to +converse intelligently on subjects other than school athletics. To-day, +however, as frequently happened, Walter’s own folks were visiting +school, and while Clif would have liked to have had Loring to dinner in +Walter’s place, Loring wouldn’t be persuaded. Not generally sensitive +about his condition, Loring disliked displaying his infirmity in +public dining rooms. So when at a few minutes past one Mr. Bingham’s +party seated itself at table it consisted only of the host, Tom +and Clif. Whatever was to be said of the Inn’s Sunday dinners――and +much that was complimentary might have been said――they could not be +criticized on the score of astounding originality. You always knew just +what to expect. To-day’s dish of olives and pickles looked exactly +like last Sunday’s, the cream of tomato with rice tasted exactly like +the soup of a week ago, and so it went right down the menu, through +the fish and the broiled milk-fed chicken and the three vegetables and +the combination salad and the harlequin ice-cream to the demi-tasse +and the far too pliable crackers, which, aided by a square of yellow +cheese, ended the banquet. But it was good, that dinner, and especially +toothsome to fellows who for nearly a month had subsisted on a possibly +more appropriate but far plainer diet. Tom, as always, lost no time +in approaching the task at hand, nor wasted strength on conversation. +Where dining was concerned Tom’s was a one-track mind! + +Clif and his father, however, found leisure for talking; leisure, too, +to regard the other occupants of the big, sunny room and to exchange +bows with a few of them. At a near-by table Walter Treat, his father +and mother and a kid brother were dining. Several others of Clif’s +acquaintances were also on hand, while, over by an open window, a +thin, somewhat sallow-looking man who ate alone glanced up and nodded +as he encountered Mr. Bingham’s eyes. “Rather an interesting chap I +ran into this morning,” said Mr. Bingham, responding to Clif’s mute +inquiry. “Cooper, I think his name is.” + +“There’s a Cooper on the scrub team,” answered Clif. “Jack Cooper. +Maybe his father. Doesn’t look like Jack much, though.” + +“Probably is, however. At least, I gathered that he’s staying at the +Inn more or less permanently. For that matter, son, you don’t look an +awful lot like your dad.” + +“I don’t suppose I do,” said Clif. “I favor mother more, don’t I?” + +Mr. Bingham nodded, thoughtfully studying his son’s face. Tom, +supposedly deaf, burst into speech. “Heck, Clif, you and your father +are dead ringers, only you’ll never be as good looking as he is.” + +Mr. Bingham laughed. “Thanks, Tom,” he said. “I appreciate that even +though I recognize it as rank flattery. When you reach forty you become +grateful for any kind word.” + +“’S all right,” replied Tom stoutly. “I know what I’m talking about. +When we came in here all the girls, and the old dames, too, began to +sit up and take notice, and I’ll bet it wasn’t Clif that made ’em do +it, nor me either!” + +Well, Mr. Bingham _was_ a fine-looking man, and if he was forty――or +nearly forty――you’d never have suspected it. Clif was very proud of his +father, and Tom’s compliment, even if a bit crude, pleased him. Looking +about the room he saw that Mr. Cooper’s gaze was directed toward their +table. The gaze was courteously but unhurriedly withdrawn the next +instant, and Clif tried to discover a resemblance between the lean, +pleasantly grave countenance and the round, freckled face of the second +nine catcher, and failed. Probably Jack Cooper, too, took after his +mother, he reflected. + +After dinner, while Mr. Bingham smoked a short cigar on the porch +before taking his guests to ride, Walter Treat brought his father +and mother up and there were introductions all around. When they had +presently departed Mr. Bingham looked about searchingly. “Wonder where +that Cooper chap is,” he said. “Told him I’d like to have him meet you, +son, and he seemed quite anxious to. But he doesn’t appear to be about.” + +“Maybe,” responded Clif, “he will be around when we get back, dad.” He +was far more concerned with the approaching automobile ride than with +meeting strangers, no matter how interesting the latter might seem to +his father. Tom, tilted back in a porch chair, was somnolent, but Clif +watched his father’s cigar and reflected that he had never seen one +which diminished more slowly. Eventually, though, Mr. Bingham arose +with a sigh and dropped the cigar over the railing. + +“Well, boys, let’s go,” he said. “What part of the world do you want to +see to-day?” + +It was after four when they returned to the Inn. The elusive Mr. +Cooper was not in sight, and presently Mr. Bingham said good-by and +sped away, the boys waving him out of sight before turning their steps +toward school. With a long sigh for the departed glories of the day, +Tom thrust an inquiring finger under his belt, “That was a great feed, +Clif,” he murmured. + + + + + CHAPTER V + + TOM CONFIDES + + +After that, while they walked up the curving drive, between rows of +leafless trees, Tom was unusually silent. Nearing West Hall, Clif +suggested continuing on and paying a call on Loring, but Tom shook his +head. “Let’s go up to your room,” he said. + +Number 17 looked out on the court formed by the old building, known as +Middle Hall, and the two wings, East and West, and even at midday was +none too well lighted. Now, at half-past four, it was decidedly gloomy, +and Clif would have turned on the light had not Tom protested. “Lights +hurt a fellow’s eyes,” he said. “Besides, I like twilight, anyway.” + +“Sounds so,” said Clif. “You’re as cheerful as an undertaker!” Walter +was still absent and the window-seat and the floor beside it were +littered with Sunday newspapers. Tom swept them from the cushion and +stretched himself out and Clif drew up a chair so that he might rest +his feet beside Tom’s. Across the court, the wall of East Hall was in +purple shadow. On the slates of the roof three pigeons walked pompously +to and fro, cooing softly, while below, in the shrubbery, sparrows +chirped in noisy argument. + +“Fathers,” observed Tom after a moment, “are a great institution, +aren’t they?” + +“Yes, I suppose so,” answered Clif. “But how do you mean?” + +Tom didn’t elucidate. Instead: “Say, remember how mad you were with me +the day you came?” he asked. “You were saying good-by to your father +down there at the car and I was sitting on the steps. Remember? You +wanted to fight.” + +“Why not?” inquired Clif warmly. “You sat there, grinning like a Hindoo +idol, and told me to go and have a cry and I’d feel better. Of course I +wanted to fight!” + +“Sure,” said Tom soberly. “I don’t blame you. I did act sort of rotten.” + +“You sure did,” agreed Clif, but without animus. “And I certainly did +dislike you a lot. But, of course, you were funking a date with Alick, +who was going to tell you whether you were to beat it back home or +stick around awhile――” + +“Yes, but that wasn’t the reason I was nasty,” interrupted Tom. “I +said, that night in recreation room, that maybe I’d tell you about it +some time, and I guess I’d like to do it now. I feel sort of melancholy +and――and confiding. Maybe I’ve got a touch of indigestion. Or maybe +it’s the effect of the twilight.” + +“Let’s light up and forget it,” offered Clif cheerfully. + +“No, I want to talk. Listen, Clif. The real reason I was nasty that +time was because I was――was――heck, I don’t know just how to put it. +Guess I was sort of jealous.” + +“Jealous!” echoed Clif. + +“Well, envious then. I could see what corking pals you and your dad +were, and what a lot you thought of each other and how you were both +kind of choked up about saying good-by, and it made me feel like the +dickens. You see, I never had any father, Clif.” + +“Never had――” gasped Clif. + +“None that I can remember,” said Tom gloomily. “He――went away when I +was five years old.” + +“Oh,” murmured Clif. “I wondered. You never spoke of him, although you +did tell me that your mother was dead and that you had a guardian.” + +“Mother died when I was about ten. From what I can make out we’re a +queer lot, us Kembles. As far as I know I haven’t a relation living, +and about all I’ve learned of the family is what old Winslow has told +me; and he’s not much of a talker. He’s a lawyer; one of the sort who +hates to say anything unless you pay ’im a fee first. But I do know +that my mother was born in this country and my father in England. He +met her over here and they were married. He had something to do with +cotton; represented an English firm and traveled around for them. +Mother traveled with him. I was born in Mobile, Alabama. Then, five +years later, my dad up and beat it. Of course I don’t know the rights +of it, Clif. Mother never spoke of him more than a couple of times that +I can remember, and Winslow didn’t know him. I suppose he was a rotter. +Still――” + +Tom relapsed into silence. Then, after a moment or two he went on. “I +was pretty fond of my mother, Clif, although I was only a kid when she +died, but when I look back and remember things it seems to me that +perhaps it wasn’t all his fault; my father’s I mean. A fellow hates +like the dickens to say anything against his mother, and――well, I’m +not going to. She was always a corker to me. But what I mean is――well, +father might have found her trying. Heck, I don’t know! I ought to hate +him, and sometimes I do, but maybe he had some excuse for lighting out.” + +“He never came back?” asked Clif. + +“No. I don’t know whether mother ever heard from him again, but Winslow +says he provided decently for her and me. Put some money in a bank, +you know, and mother received so much every month. She was sort of +extravagant, though, I guess, because a couple of years before she died +she tried to get hold of the――whatyoucallit――principal. That’s when +old Winslow came into it. She got him to try to get the money for her. +He didn’t succeed, but he kept on trying, and he was still at it when +mother died. That’s how she came to make him my guardian. She thought +he was the eel’s whiskers.” + +“I’ve heard,” said Clif when Tom had been silent a space, “that the +English are great folks for traveling about. Englishmen especially. +Maybe your father was like that, Tom. Wasn’t contented to stay put, you +know.” + +“I’m pretty sure of it,” answered Tom. “I’m that way myself, worse +luck. I can’t hear a train whistle or a steamship toot without getting +a thrill, I can be happy for hours looking at a map and I never see a +road that I don’t feel my feet itching to find out what’s at the end of +it. Ever feel that way? Well, I guess I get all that from my father. +Oh, I could forgive him for leaving my mother, because, as I’ve told +you, there might have been some excuse, but what I can’t forgive him +is not showing up or sending some word after she died. You’d think he +might be at least faintly interested in me, Clif. That’s what I’ve got +in for him, and I’d like mighty well to see him some day just long +enough to tell him what I think of him!” + +“But, Tom, doesn’t it seem probable that――that he’s dead? It’s――how +long?――eleven years, isn’t it, since he went off?” + +“Yes, he may be dead. I suppose he is. That is, sometimes I do, and +other times I’m plumb certain he isn’t. Winslow wanted to spend a lot +of money and find out about him; who he was and what had become of +him; but I wouldn’t let him. Told him if he did he’d have to spend his +own money. He wasn’t keen for that. Oh, I don’t really care now. I’ve +got along without a father for nearly twelve years and I guess I can +keep on. Only――only sometimes――when I see other fellows with theirs――” + +Tom relapsed into silence. Clif, searching for words that would express +the sympathy he felt without offending the other’s pride, said nothing. +Presently Tom broke the silence with: “Well, that’s that. Sorry to +have bored you, old scout, but I rather wanted you to know the real +reason why I acted so like a bounder that day. I’ve wanted to tell you +ever since, but a fellow sort of hesitates to talk about his private +affairs.” + +“I’m very glad you did tell me,” answered Clif through the dusk. He +wanted to say more, but again the right words eluded him. After a +moment or two Tom swung his feet to the floor with a bang. + +“Heck, let’s have some light,” he exclaimed. “This is enough to give a +fellow the willies!” + +On Tuesday the second team came into official existence, and Mr. +Wadleigh took charge as coach. Mr. Wadleigh lived in Greenville, some +twenty miles distant, and made the daily pilgrimage to Freeburg in a +dilapidated Ford car whose mudguards were so loose that they flapped +up and down like wings and gave the battered vehicle the appearance +of flying. As Mr. Wadleigh seldom drove under thirty-five miles an +hour――his record between the two villages was alleged to be thirty-two +minutes――the illusion was enhanced. Many years before he had played +baseball on the Wyndham team. No one could discover that he had +distinguished himself, however. He was in business of some sort in +Greenville――real estate, rumor had it, and for several years past had +donated his services to his old school, doubtless at some sacrifice. He +was a tall, awkward-looking man of perhaps thirty-three or -four years +with a very prominent nose set in a long face. He was rather bald, a +fact especially noticeable because he was never seen wearing a hat. +Some held that the hair had been blown from the front and top of his +head by the wind during his wild, careening flights over the road. He +constantly wore an amiable smile which exposed a number of long teeth +below a ragged mustache of a faded brown. That smile, however, was +not to be taken――no pun is intended――at its face value. It persisted +even when “Tusks” was not pleased with things. The nickname implied no +disrespect, for, while Mr. Wadleigh was not beautiful to look upon, nor +possessed graces of manner, he was, in school parlance, “a wow of a +coach.” + +Tusks took over twenty-four candidates from Coach Connover, conducted +them to the second-team diamond, looked them over in thoughtful, if +smiling, silence and set them to work. Three days later, still smiling +amiably, he dismissed seven of the twenty-four. Through some, to them, +inexplicable miracle, Clif and Tom survived the cut. The next day, +Saturday, the second shortened practice and watched the first play six +innings of its game with the local High School nine. The day was a +miserable one from a baseball viewpoint, with cloudy skies and a brisk +north wind, a day far too chill to permit of good playing had either +of the contesting teams been capable of it, which they apparently were +not. The five pitchers, of which three wore the dark blue of Wyndham, +were hit hard at all times, and hits coupled with numerous errors and +many misplays which didn’t appear in the error column fattened the +score of each side. The bulk of the audience survived the last of the +seventh inning, by which time the home team had a five-run lead, but +after that it disintegrated rapidly. When, in the first half of the +ninth, High School staged a rally only a corporal’s guard of devoted +adherents remained in the stand to witness it. + +Erlingby, who had taken Ogden’s place in the box for Wyndham at +the beginning of the eighth inning, started out with a pass to the +visitor’s third baseman. He followed that with a wild throw in an +effort to catch the runner off the bag, and the High School player +went all the way to third. That worried Erlingby and heartened the +visitors. The next man up laid a slow bunt down on the first base line +and Erlingby handled it. The man on third faked a dash to the plate, +delaying the pitcher just long enough to make his hurried throw to Van +Dyke, at first, too late. The High School left fielder hit to short +right and scored the first runner, the latter beating Coles’ shot to +the plate by an eyelash. A pinch hitter batted for the next on the +list and cracked the first ball pitched into deep left. Talbott made +a pretty running catch, but another run tallied. The enemy’s catcher +fouled off four balls before he straightened one out right across +second base. That brought in the third score of the inning. In trying +to reach second on Greene’s peg to the rubber, however, the Freeburg +catcher was caught a yard off the cushion, and, with two down and the +pitcher up, Wyndham breathed with relief. A second pinch hitter took +the pitcher’s place, though, and several bad moments ensued. Erlingby +failed twice to cut the corners and then scored a strike on a long +foul down the left base-line. Another ball, and then a fast one across +the platter and a second foul-strike. A third foul, back of the plate, +just escaped Cobham’s glove. Then the batsman crashed against the next +delivery and drove it high and far into left field. Once again Sid +Talbott won applause from the remaining handful of spectators, this +time by sprinting far to his right and getting under the ball just as +it came to earth, foul by more than a yard. + +That ended the rally and the game, giving Wyndham the contest, 13 to 11. + +The following Monday the second team faced the first and wallowed +through five innings of horrible baseball. Mr. Wadleigh smiled through +it all, but none of his charges labored under the mistaken assumption +that his smile denoted approval. About every second nine player made +at least one error that afternoon. Burden, playing third base through +three of the chapters, made four! Jones, who succeeded him, did a +little better, although he managed to make himself accountable for one +of the nine runs accumulated by the enemy. The one thing that kept +the first from piling up twice nine runs was their inability to run +bases. They had no difficulty in hitting Frost and Purdy, but, once on +first, they didn’t seem to know what to do. Purdy caught runners off +five times, and in the fourth inning Leland and Raiford couldn’t decide +which of them was entitled to possession of second base, and pending +a decision Carr tagged them both and then, to make certain, threw to +third. Twice, too, headless running spelled disaster for the first, +once when Al Greene sought to score from third on a bunt to pitcher and +once when Pat Tyson, a slow runner, tried to stretch his single into a +double and was caught ten feet from second. + +Neither of the second team’s pitchers showed anything that day but +willingness. Frost, a left-hander, went well for one inning and then +became wild, allowing four hits, passing one man and landing the +sphere against Cobham’s ribs. Purdy, who took over the job with two +on bases, retired the side without further damage, but Billy only +possessed a couple of good curves and a slow ball and after the first +team batters got acquainted with him in the fourth inning he was hit +hard. + +Tusks tried out most of his talent before the fifth inning was over, +and both Clif and Tom saw service. Tom played second base for half an +inning and Clif center field. Tom made a good stop of a hard bounder +and then fumbled it long enough to let the runner reach first safely. +Clif had no chances. Neither of the two reached the plate with a bat. +Afterwards, in the gymnasium, Mr. Wadleigh astounded all hands by +smilingly remarking that although they needed practice they had the +making of a fine team. At first they suspected him of bitter sarcasm, +but later they agreed that he had meant just what he had said, and they +hoped hard that he was right! + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + PSYCHOLOGY + + +By Wednesday the second――or the “Tuskers,” as the first surreptitiously +called it――was doing rather better. Neither Frost nor Purdy yet had +anything much to offer, and they yielded hits continuously, but the +infield pulled itself together and here and there an individual shone +brightly. “Slim” Scott, at first base, for instance, began to show +rather a talent for his work. Slim was tall and long of arm, and, while +somewhat deliberate, was also dependably steady. Connell, shortstop, +who had recently been chosen captain, was another high spot. And then +there was Jack Cooper, first choice catcher, hard-working and plucky, +who handled the pitchers nicely and could peg a good throw to second. +As for the others, they were so far no more than promises, and as for +batting, well, the second hadn’t yet discovered just what that was, but +it was learning. Tusks put the team through a solid hour of practice +every afternoon before he led it across to oppose the first, and +batting in front of the net consumed the major portion of the period. +Clif began to show promise as a hitter, although there were plenty who +bettered him at it daily, while Tom, with more playing experience, was +making slow progress. Perhaps this was partly because Tom had much to +unlearn. Tusks had ideas of his own on batting form and was quite out +of sympathy with individual eccentricities. A few of the second-nine +candidates who had undergone instruction at his hands before got along +very well during that first fortnight, but the rest were continually +being reminded to stand up to the plate, which, with Billy Purdy in one +of his erratic moods, was something requiring real physical courage. +Nevertheless, Tusks required that the batters should fairly toe the +rubber. “If you can’t get out of the way of a ball before it hits you,” +he said, “you’re too slow to bat at all.” + +He was also down on “swings.” If you wanted to please Tusks you held +the bat a foot from the end and never, never let it get behind your +shoulder. Many of the fellows had their own particular idols and tried +to copy their styles; there were at least half a dozen imaginary Ruths +in the second squad, but this course was speedily discouraged by the +coach. “After you’re playing ball for half a dozen years,” he said +one day to Evans, “you can stand any way you like and swing any way +you like, and walk to first on your hands, if you fancy doing it, but +there’s only one way to learn to bat, and that way’s the _right_ way. +And when you fellows spread your feet all over the box or start your +swing from somewhere around the back of your necks you’re all wrong. +If I want to hit a nail on the head with a hammer I don’t hold the +hammer off at arm’s length. I hold it a foot or so away, and when I +strike I hit the nail and not my thumb. In other words, fellows, the +longer the swing the less accuracy. Now try it again, Evans. Shorten +your grip. That’s better. Now, watch the ball and meet it square.” + +One of Mr. Wadleigh’s favorite slogans was “Hit with your eyes!” +Elaborated, that meant that you were to watch the pitcher from the +instant you stepped into the box until the ball left his hand. After +that you were to watch the ball. “Sometimes you can learn by watching +the pitcher what sort of a ball he’s going to offer you. Very few +pitchers that you’ll face can throw a curve with the same motion they +throw a straight ball. Learn to note the difference. Study the pitcher, +even when you’re on the bench. When he pitches glue your eyes to the +ball and watch it until you’ve hit it or it’s gone by you. You’ll +learn after a while to detect the wide ones and let them alone. The +trouble with most of you right now is that you’re afraid to have a +strike called on you, and you go after the ball no matter where it is. +Remember that it’s only the third strike that carries a sting. That’s +the one you must be ready for. It’s only weak batters who worry when +the count’s against them. The experienced batters realize that if the +pitcher has pinned two strikes on them the law of average is against +his getting a third one over. Learn to let the ‘teasers’ alone and +concentrate on the good ones. Hit with your eyes!” + +Clif, having played but little ball before this spring, had fewer +mistakes to correct than many of the others and followed Tusks’ +instructions without questioning them. He began by standing up to the +plate, keeping his feet together――the coach wasn’t insistent on that, +but advised it――and confining his efforts to hitting the ball at no +more than a half swing. Of course he developed faults, such as pulling +away as he struck, but they were corrected before they had time to +become habits. Tom, on the other hand, was prone to crouch as the ball +sped toward him and straighten up as he swung, and, for this reason +or some other, invariably hit, when he did hit, into the air. He was +willing enough to substitute the coach’s methods for his own, but he +found difficulty in doing it. + +There was much discussion between Tom and Clif――yes, and Loring, +too――on the subject of batting. Tom invariably instanced the phenomenal +hitting of one “Clouter” Hearn, who played on one of the New Jersey +State League teams, when either of the other members of the Triumvirate +tactfully questioned the efficacy of his style. Clouter, it appeared, +had never batted for less than .368, and Tom’s form was molded closely +on Clouter’s. “Of course,” he said one evening in Loring’s room, “I +don’t say that Tusks doesn’t know his business or that his dope isn’t +right, but just the same I believe I can get a heap better results +batting my own way than his. I could most always get a couple of good +whangs off Purdy when I was doing the way I’m used to doing, but now, +since I’ve been standing like a wooden soldier and sort of pecking at +the ball, I don’t do a blame thing but fan!” + +“I noticed, though,” remarked Loring, “that you generally hit flies, +Tom.” + +“Well, I hit! And that’s more than I can do now.” + +“You’ll get onto it,” soothed Clif. “It takes time.” + +“Just the same, I still think Tusks ought to let us hit the way it’s +easiest for us to hit,” said Tom doggedly. “After all, it’s results +that count, isn’t it? Sure! Well, then!” + +“Probably Mr. Wadleigh thinks the results will be better when you +thoroughly learn his way of batting,” said Loring. “I notice that men +like Baker and Cobb hit about the way Mr. Wadleigh is teaching.” + +“Back numbers!” snorted Tom. “Now this guy Clouter Hearn――” + +“All right,” agreed Loring imperturbably, “let’s take some who aren’t. +Sisler or Speaker, for example――” + +“But, heck, I don’t know how those fellows bat,” protested Tom, “and +you don’t either. You say――” + +“But I do know,” answered Loring, smilingly. “I never saw them play, +but I’ve got pictures of them at bat.” + +“Pictures!” grumbled Tom. “Well, I guess I could find plenty of guys +who hit over three hundred and don’t do it the way Tusks wants us to. I +say every man for himself when it comes to hitting the old pill. It’s +hits that count, no matter whether you get ’em standing on your two +feet or on your left ear, by heck!” + +“Right,” laughed Loring, “but the trouble is, Tom, that you can’t get +them standing on your left ear, nor your right ear. As I understand it, +and I’ve been out to most every practice, as you know, Tusks has to +teach one method to all you fellows alike, and he’s teaching the one he +considers to be the best. Isn’t that the way you understand it?” + +“The weak point about Tusks,” remarked Clif regretfully, “is that he +never saw Clouter Hearn play!” + +“Shut up,” said Tom, grinning. “Oh, I don’t say Tusks isn’t all right, +Loring. And I suppose he does have to teach one style to the lot of us. +And I’m willing enough to bat the way he says, even if I still think I +can do better batting my own way, but, Sacred Ibis of the River Nile, +fellows, I can’t get the hang of his way! I start all right and then +Purdy or Frosty gets my goat and I forget all about acting pretty and +Tusks is on my neck again. But, heck, what’s the use of worrying about +it, anyway? I’ve got as much chance of making the big team as a pig has +to fly. Why should I lose weight over my batting?” + +“What’s the matter,” asked Clif mildly, “with playing on the second? We +can’t all be heroes, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got a lot +of fun out of it, Tom. Besides, as Mr. Babcock told us last fall when +we were on the scrub eleven, it’s the lowly second team that teaches +the first how to play! He also serves, you know, who only sits and――” + +“Plays the goat,” aided Tom. “Well, that’s all right, too, but it +doesn’t look to me as if I’d even get a place on the second. Tusks will +only keep, maybe, a dozen fellows, besides the pitchers, and I saw him +looking at me just this afternoon in a way I didn’t like at all. He had +a sort of ‘Fe fi, fo, fum’ expression! I’ll bet the next time there’s a +decrease in the squad, I’ll be one of the decreasees!” + +“No, you won’t,” said Loring confidently, “and I’ll tell you why. I’ve +been watching, Tom, and I know for a fact that there are at least four +other fellows on the squad now who play considerably worse than you do.” + +“Of which I’m one,” said Clif sadly. + +“No, you’re not. I could tell you their names, but I’m not going to. +Mr. Wadleigh has cut the squad to seventeen already, fellows, and he +can’t drop more than three more.” + +“Oh, yes, he can,” contradicted Tom. “Because Steve will be letting +four or five go pretty quick, and they’ll drop back into our gang.” + +“Well, even so,” Loring replied, “I still think your chance of staying +is good, Tom. And Clif’s, too. And, what’s more, I want you to stay, +both of you. I’m getting interested in baseball, and I want some one I +know to watch. I can’t play myself, but I can follow your fortunes and +feel almost as if I were. And now here’s where the Triumvirate gets +busy and does its stuff. There are three of us, and there’s only one +Mr. Wadleigh, and if we can’t convince him, between us, that you and +Clif are necessary to the team, why, we――we’re a punk Triumvirate!” + +“Sounds fair enough,” said Tom, “but just how are we going to do it?” + +“Well, I don’t quite know――yet,” confessed Loring, “but I believe +there’s a way. Do you know anything about psychology?” + +“Not much. I had one a couple of years ago, but I ran it against an +ice-wagon.” + +“Cut out the comedy,” said Clif severely. “Loring’s got a scheme. Let’s +hear it.” + +“Well, I suppose it is just an idea so far. But here’s the way it looks +to me, Clif. Suppose you and Tom make up your minds firmly to play +good ball and make the second. And suppose I make up my mind just as +earnestly to do everything I can to help you. That makes three of us, +all――all concentrating on one purpose, one result, doesn’t it?” + +“Your arithmetic is perfect,” said Tom gravely. + +“Well, there must be something in this psychology stuff,” continued +Loring. “I mean in the mastery of the will and――and mental suggestion +and all that. You read of all sorts of cases where the thing’s been +done. Some of them must be true, don’t you think?” + +“You mean,” asked Clif, “that we are to will ourselves onto the second +team?” + +“Not exactly that. I mean you are to start right now with the +determination to make the team and work as hard as you know how; make +up your minds to play better every day――” + +“Every day in every play I’m getting――” + +“Shut up, Tom!” said Clif. “While we’re trying to make the team we’re +to keep telling ourselves that we’re _going_ to. Is that it, Loring?” + +“Yes. Suppose the fellows who are after the positions you want play +hard but don’t keep their minds on what they’re after, don’t use their +wills; and suppose you play just as hard and never lose sight of why +you’re doing it, of what you’re going after, and use all your will +power. Isn’t it fair to assume that you’ll have the edge on the other +chaps?” + +“Y-yes,” assented Clif. “I see what you mean.” + +“So do I,” said Tom, “but what I’d like to know is what’s to prevent +those other guys trying the psychology stunt too!” + +“Nothing, but they just won’t think of it. You hadn’t, had you?” + +“I’ll say I hadn’t! Heck, I never took much stock in this mental +suggestion stuff, Loring. It always sounds nutty to me.” + +“I don’t think it’s nutty,” said Loring. “Doesn’t it stand to reason +that your chance of getting a thing is better if you bend all your +energies to getting it? And a fellow’s energies aren’t wholly physical, +are they? His mind――” + +“That’s all right, but this thing of ‘willing’ something to happen, +now; that’s different from just _wanting_ it to, isn’t it?” + +“Yes, it is. You can want anything a whole lot and yet not set your +mental energies to the job of going after it. That’s the point I’m +trying to make. Look here, Tom, have you ever watched a pole-vaulter at +work? Do you suppose that he’s thinking about what he’s going to have +for supper or――or some fool thing like that? He isn’t. He’s saying to +himself, _hard_: ‘I’m going to do it! I’m going over! This time I’m +going to _make_ it!’ And he isn’t thinking about a thing in the world +but just getting up there and straightening his body out right and +clearing that bar! And if he didn’t _think_ he was going to do it, if +he didn’t use his will as well as his body, he never would do it!” + +“Keno!” said Tom. “I get you, old scout. Like when Clif made that last +goal in the hockey game awhile back. I’ll bet it was just his _will_ +that shot that puck in, for, goodness knows, he didn’t have any command +over the rest of him!” + +Clif laughed, but Loring went on, still seriously. “‘Work and Will’ is +the slogan, fellows. But we don’t have to stop there. Remember that +it’s ‘one for all and all for one.’ Each of us helps the others every +chance he gets.” + +“Such as how?” asked Clif. + +“Well, if you see Tom doing something the wrong way you’ll tell him. +If Tom sees you making mistakes he will tell you. If I see either of +you missing an opportunity I’ll put my oar in. Being on the side-lines, +so to speak, I might, you know. Then there’s propaganda. Whenever any +of us sees a chance to speak a good word for another we’ll do it. And +there may be other ways, too. The main thing is to be looking for them +and to use them. Now what do you say? Remember it’s three to one, and +that’s a sure thing in any fight!” + +“Looks to me,” objected Tom, “more like three to two. Suppose I want to +play second base. I’ve got ‘Stu’ Evans against me, for one, and Coach +Connover for another. Stu wants to keep the job and Steve wants him to.” + +“Mr. Connover won’t want him to if you show you’re as good as Evans. +But, for the sake of argument, call it three to two, Tom. That’s still +a big margin.” + +“It might be if Steve didn’t have a whole lot more to say than the +whole bunch of us!” + +“That’s the point. It’s up to us to see that Steve says what we want +him to! That’s where our wills get in their work. He may have more +authority than you, or the three of us together, Tom, but your _will_ +is just as strong as his is!” + +“Is it?” asked Tom startledly. “What do you know about that?” + +“Of course it is. And you can make it stronger all the time by using +it. In many of us the will power is merely dormant until we begin to +exercise it.” + +“Well, it’s all sort of mixed-up to me,” said Tom. “Guess I’ll never +quite get the rights of it. But I’m willing to try the gag. What do I +do first?” + +“Quit joshing and talk sense,” advised Clif impatiently. “Loring’s got +a good scheme, and it won’t hurt us a bit to try it. Even if it doesn’t +get us anything it’ll be sort of fun, sort of interesting.” + +“Joshing!” exclaimed Tom in hurt tones. “I wasn’t joshing. I’m just as +dead serious as the rest of you, but I’ve got to know what I’m to do +before I do it, haven’t I?” + +“You’ve got to do what we’ve all got to do,” answered Loring. “Tell +yourself over and over that you’re going to make an infield position on +the second nine――” + +“But I don’t want just _any_ position,” interrupted Tom anxiously; “I +want to play second base!” + +“And keep on telling yourself that until you believe it. When you +believe it others will. Work as hard as you can for that position. Keep +in mind that Clif and I are thinking and believing and working with you +every minute. Work and will, Tom. Let’s go then! ‘One for all and――’” + +“All for fun,” said the irrepressible Tom. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + A STRANGER LOOKS ON + + +The first team defeated Granleigh High School in a slow game marked +by many errors on both sides and then played Murray School and lost, +7 to 2. Murray had a field day with the Wyndham pitchers, knocking +Jeff Ogden out of the box in the third, by which time four markers +had been put on the scoreboard, and hitting Sam Erlingby so hard that +he, too, was wisely retired in the seventh. Although Murray made only +three runs off Sam, he yielded six hits and three passes and was only +saved from a worse fate by some really fast fielding at times. Sam was +a right-hander and had been offered on the supposition that, since +the enemy had severely punished Ogden, a left-hander, it would find a +starboard artist more difficult. But Murray showed that he could hit +them all, right or left, and gathered in thirteen hits in the process. +Bud Moore, who pitched the game out, didn’t escape unscathed, but he +managed to keep the clouts scattered and witnessed no tallies. Wyndham +looked feeble that afternoon as an offensive team, making but five hits +off the opposing pitcher, two of which were credited to Captain Leland. +Of Wyndham’s brace of runs, one was put across in the second inning +as a result of Wink Coles’ single, an error by shortstop and Hurry +Leland’s two bagger into right. The other tally didn’t materialize +until the ninth, when the home team attempted a rally and, after +Raiford had been thrown out at first, got Talbott and Van Dyke on +second and first. Cobham, the Blue’s catcher, bunted along the first +base line and made the second out, advancing the runners, however. +Pierce, batting for Bud Moore, drove a liner at second baseman, who +fumbled long enough for Talbott to score. Van Dyke, though, was beaten +by a few inches in his race for the plate, and the rally flivvered. + +It was on the Monday following the Murray game that the second took +the first into camp in a six-inning contest by a score of 6 to 5. +The first’s line-up was rather patched and was subjected to frequent +alterations, but still it was the first team just the same and the +second derived much satisfaction from that victory. Frost pitched for +the scrub and did a good job, getting into many bad holes only to pull +himself out by cool-headedness and canny judgment. Every one on Mr. +Wadleigh’s roster got into action at one time or another, and Clif made +his first hit against an opposing team in the eighth when he smashed +a red-hot liner past Tyson, at third. Tom was again tried at the last +corner and made two assists, but his only trip to the plate resulted in +a fly-out to shortstop. Needless to say, he forgot all that Tusks had +tried to teach him as soon as the first ball had been pitched to him +and his batting form reverted to his famous imitation of Clouter Hearn. + +Reminded of this by his fellow members of the Triumvirate that evening, +Tom was at first impatient and then dejected. “It’s no use,” he +declared finally in extenuation. “I mean well, but I just can’t get the +hang of it.” + +“But you don’t remember,” said Clif. “You start all right, and then you +forget and back away and crouch. You don’t keep your mind on the job, +Tom.” + +“Well, why won’t he let me hit the way I want to? Heck, if I ever coach +a baseball team――” + +“That’s got nothing to do with it,” interrupted Clif. “Tusks may be all +wrong, but he’s the boss and it’s up to you to do what he tells you to +do.” + +“But I forget!” + +“You mustn’t forget,” Loring assured him earnestly. “When you forget +it’s because you’re not doing as you agreed to do. You’re not putting +your mind to work. Now what were you thinking about when you were at +bat this afternoon?” + +“Thinking about?” Tom ran his fingers through his hair in puzzlement. +“Why, part of the time I was wondering what Moore was going to shoot at +me, and part of the time I was wondering if I could hit it, and part +of――” + +“There! That’s just it! You had the wrong thoughts all the while. You +should have been concentrating on the thought: I am going to hit it! +You shouldn’t have wondered about anything. Wonder means doubt, and you +don’t doubt, you _know_!” + +“Oh, I do, do I? Is that so? Well, let me tell you I didn’t know! +And you wouldn’t have known, either. That guy’s got a mean hook, and +if you don’t know when it’s coming you’re a gone coon! Besides that, +suppose I’d done all that concentrating you talk about; all that +‘I-know-I’m-going-to-hit-it’ stuff; how would that have helped me to +stand up-close to the plate and put my feet together and all the rest +of it? Huh?” + +Tom was a dull student, and frequently very trying to Loring and +Clif. Much valuable time was spent in pounding the philosophy of the +“Work and Will” idea into his marble dome. To-night, as on several +preceding occasions, Tom agreed to mend his ways and promised to “trot +out the old Will Power.” So far no appreciable results had accrued to +the Triumvirate from its campaign of “Work and Will,” but, as Loring +pointed out, a week was too short a time to prove anything. Besides, +it was probable that none of them was yet concentrating and willing as +effectively as he might with more practice. It doubtless took some time +to warm up a fellow’s will power and get it “hitting on all six.” + +Loring attended practice nearly every day. With the excellent Wattles +as chauffeur, the chair was wheeled across to the second team diamond +and installed in a sunny corner near the end of the stand and about +opposite first base. It was a location from which Loring could watch +the plate and the infield equally well, and its one disadvantage was +due to the frequency with which foul balls invaded it. Loring himself +was not at all troubled by that disadvantage, but Wattles was on +tenterhooks constantly. Wattles was almost certain that he could catch +a baseball if it came within reach, and there were moments when he +would have welcomed a chance to prove his ability. But there were many +more moments when he devoutly prayed that no such opportunity would +be afforded him. Wattles was a dignified person, and the fear that he +might, in spite of what was almost a conviction to the contrary, fail +to make the catch and thus lose his dignity and become a laughing stock +filled him with dread. Every time a ball glanced from a bat Wattles +shot a hand to the brim of his black derby, stiffened with suspense and +prepared to sell his life dearly. + +During practice Loring had many visitors. He was well liked and +thoroughly respected. There was, however, in spite of his friendly +countenance, something about him that deterred merely casual +acquaintances from claiming the privileges of friendship. Mr. Wadleigh +always walked over and talked a moment, and so did several of the +others from the bench. Frequently one or more friends would occupy the +bench at his elbow and keep him company during part of the practice. +Later, when he and Wattles followed the second team to the first team +diamond, Coach Connover approached for a few words, or Hurry Leland or +Pat Tyson paused a moment coming off the field. To-day, the Thursday +after the Murray game, a warm, sparkling mid-April afternoon, a +stranger to Loring seated himself a few feet away on the first row of +the stand. He was a fairly tall, bonily-thin man attired in a loose +suit of gray tweed that had undoubtedly seen service and seemed somehow +to have gained honor and distinction in the process. Loring’s glance of +uninterested inquiry became a somewhat prolonged study. The stranger’s +face, like his body, was thin, with high cheek bones and a rather more +than adequate nose. The skin was sallow, pronouncedly so, yet did not +suggest unhealthiness. Nor did the many tiny wrinkles about the eyes +and around the corners of the mouth suggest age. The stranger was, +Loring decided, no more than thirty-six, or, well, thirty-eight at +the most. It was difficult to guess with certainty the age of those +wiry, thin men. This particular specimen looked as if he had seen a +good deal with those bright, brown, half-veiled eyes, and Loring could +imagine him looking quite as much at home on the back of a swaying +camel or huddled in an Arctic shelter as he did here, leaning forward, +slowly revolving a cane between his knees with thin, brown hands and +gravely surveying the efforts of Jack Cooper to get a hit. The stranger +interested Loring from the first glance, and he found himself hoping +that the other would presently offer an excuse for conversation. But +that hope seemed due to frustration, for the minutes passed and the +sallow man watched the scene in silence. More than once, after that +first look, Loring stole glances at his neighbor, something which, +since the neighbor was looking away from him, was possible without +detection. After one such glance Loring turned back puzzled by the +absurd thought that, despite utter dissimilarity, there was――was――well, +there was something about the stranger that reminded Loring of Wattles! + +Of course it was absurd, for when he stole a look at Wattles there was +no single feature of the latter which in the slightest manner suggested +any feature about the stranger on the stand; and Loring’s fancy was +dissipated. But three minutes later, the stranger proving more of an +attraction for him than batting practice at the net, and, Loring having +stolen another surreptitious glance out of the corners of his eyes, the +fancy returned with full force. Yes, sir, while you couldn’t put your +finger on the point of resemblance――although resemblance was too strong +a word for it――you just couldn’t look at the stranger without recalling +Wattles! It was mighty funny! + +Presently the second was called across to the other field, and Wattles +folded up the seat which he had occupied, hung it on the handle-bar of +the chair and followed sedately with his charge. The stranger arose, +paused to fill a pipe with tobacco and made his way from the stand in +the wake of the wheel chair. Once out of his hearing, Loring spoke +eagerly to Wattles. + +“Did you notice the man sitting near us, Wattles?” + +“Yes, sir,” replied Wattles. + +“Do you know who he is?” + +“No, Mr. Loring, I can’t say that I do.” + +“You can’t say? Well, geewhillikins, Wattles, you either know him or +you don’t know him! Which is it?” + +Wattles cleared his throat deprecatively. “Beg pardon, sir. What I +meant to convey was that I do not know the gentleman’s identity but +that it’s barely possible I’ve seen him before, sir.” + +“You have? Where?” + +“That’s just it, Mr. Loring. I can’t seem to recall the occasion.” + +“You’ve probably seen him around here then.” + +“Quite likely, sir,” agreed Wattles obligingly. + +“Well, but――but do you think you did see him here? Or was it somewheres +else?” + +“I fancy it might have been somewheres else, sir.” + +“Wattles, you certainly are the prize package!” + +“Thank you, sir.” + +The subject of this discourse chose a seat high in the third base +stand, and Loring’s opportunities for further observation were few +since Loring and Wattles were well beyond first base and across the +diamond. In the course of the five innings that ensued――the game went +only to five since the first had a batting fest in the fourth and +delayed matters――Loring forgot the interesting stranger. Recalling him +again during supper, he decided to ask information of Tom and Clif, but +other matters sidetracked his curiosity. + +On Friday the stranger again made his way along the length of the stand +and again established himself close to where Loring’s chair was placed +on the grass. Again, save for a gravely smiling glance of recognition +on the stranger’s part, nothing passed between them. The man seemed +to like to watch the practice, and yet Loring would have sworn that +he was fairly ignorant of baseball; little puzzled frowns, momentary +expressions of blankness convinced him of that. Once Loring caught +Wattles observing their neighbor intently, and later he asked: “Well, +solved the mystery, Wattles?” + +Wattles shook his head. “No, sir.” + +“Still think you’ve seen him before, though?” + +Wattles hesitated. Then he answered evasively: “Well, Mr. Loring, it’s +hard to say. One encounters so many persons, sir. And sometimes a +likeness deceives one, sir. Oh, very frequently.” + +“What I like especially in you, Wattles,” said Loring dryly, “is your +frankness of speech, your――your communicativeness, I might say. One has +only to suggest a subject to you, and you fairly burst into artless +prattle. Nothing――er――secretive about you, eh, Wattles?” + +Wattles merely coughed. + +On Saturday rain descended in torrents from eight in the morning until +well after eleven, and the first team’s trip to Minster to play the +Minster High School team was abandoned. Although the rain ceased before +noon the field was too wet for practice, and so first and second team +players found themselves with an unexpected holiday confronting them. +A few scrub nines did slip and paddle around on the diamonds that +afternoon, but the regulars sought other forms of recreation. There was +a Douglas Fairbanks picture at the movie theater, and, after Tom had +excitedly broached the scheme, he and Clif and Loring――without Wattles +in attendance――went. Tom pushed the wheel chair, and, fearing to be +late, whizzed Loring along at a reckless clip, with Clif reminding +him of the existence of such things as speed laws. Loring might well +have experienced nervousness during that journey had it not been +that the sidewalks for most of the way were practically deserted. In +fact, the only person encountered between the entrance of East Hall +and what Tom called “the heart of the metropolis” was Loring’s sallow +and fascinating stranger. They passed him near the Inn, strolling +imperturbably along with pipe in mouth, swinging his crook-handled +cane. That tweed suit looked baggier about the knees than ever, but +it still challenged criticism. As he passed he darted a twinkle of +recognition at Loring before his gaze moved on to Tom, but made no +other sign. For an instant Loring thought he was going to speak or at +least nod, and he was disappointed when he didn’t. He turned eagerly +to Clif for information, and Clif, who had recognized the passer-by, +supplied what he could. + +“That’s Mr. Cooper,” said Clif. “Jack Cooper’s father. You know Jack.” + +Loring found the information disappointing, and his interest in the +stranger waned. One simply couldn’t associate romance with the second +nine’s catcher, round-faced, freckled and eminently commonplace. After +a moment he asked: “Is he living here?” + +“Must be,” was the answer. “I saw him dining at the Inn more than a +week ago.” + +“Oh,” said Tom, “is that the man your father pointed out? I remember +him. But, listen, why doesn’t Jack look after him? I’ve seen him +mooning around alone two or three times. He passed me on the drive the +other day, and blamed if he didn’t look like he was downright lonesome!” + +Further pursuit of the subject was prevented by their arrival at the +theater, but that evening, recalling it, Loring announced to Wattles: +“Well, another mystery is solved, Wattles. That man we were wondering +about turns out to be the father of one of the fellows, the heavy chap +who plays catcher for the second team, Jack Cooper.” + +Wattles paused in the act of smoothing Loring’s light coat preparatory +to putting it away and turned an expressionless countenance to the +speaker. “He might be, sir,” he said after a space. + +“Might be! Hang it, Wattles, I’m telling you he is.” + +“Very good, sir.” + +Monday turned out to be no sort of day on which to watch practice +inactively, and Loring remained indoors save for a brief journey to +the post office to mail some letters. By Tuesday noon, however, the +chill east wind of the previous day had departed, and the wheel chair +was rolled again to the second team field, being overtaken and passed +on the way by a violently careening Ford from the seat of which Mr. +Wadleigh waved a greeting. Practice was well along when Loring, from +his accustomed place behind first base, saw Mr. Cooper enter the stand +and, although row after row of empty benches intervened, make his way +to a seat some two yards distant from the chair. Loring experienced a +return of the former interest, despite the fact that the stranger was +no longer a mystery, and quite brazenly smiled a greeting. Mr. Cooper +smiled back and nodded. No, it was more than a nod, it was a very +courteous bow. But the gentleman didn’t speak, and Loring, regretting +his overture, turned his gaze hastily away. Some minutes passed +during which the rap of bat against ball and the cries of the players +constituted the only sound. Then, at last, a pleasant voice came from +beyond the railing. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + VACATION VISITS + + +Across the diamond, Clif and Jack Cooper stood together in a group of +five fellows waiting to bat, and Clif, turning his gaze away from a +moment’s contemplation of Loring and Mr. Cooper conversing together, +remarked: “Your father seems to like to watch practice, Jack.” + +The catcher turned an unapprehending face. “What did you say?” he +asked. Clif repeated the observation and indicated the reason for it by +a nod toward the first base stand. Jack’s gaze followed the direction +of the nod, but still he seemed unable to grasp the significance of the +remark. “My father?” he asked rather blankly. + +“Yes.” Clif was patient with him. “He’s over there talking to Loring +Deane. Can’t you see him?” + +“Oh!” Jack looked again. Then he turned a puzzled regard on Clif. +“That’s my father over there, is it?” + +“Well, isn’t it?” asked Clif in surprise. + +“Don’t recognize him, Clif.” Jack was grinning broadly. “But then +he’s gone and lost about sixty pounds, if it is he, and it’s made a +terrible difference in him!” + +“You mean Mr. Cooper isn’t――isn’t your father?” + +“Sure, Mr. Cooper’s my father, but I never saw that wampus before in my +life! Go on and bat.” + +A few minutes later Jack sought Clif to ask: “Say, how’d you get it +into your bean that that guy was my father?” + +Clif had to think a moment before he replied. Then: “I thought some one +told me he was, but maybe I just faked it myself. You see, his name’s +Cooper, and he’s staying at the Inn, and I thought of course――” + +“I’d like you to see my old man,” laughed Jack. “Just for the fun of +it. He weighs close to two hundred, Clif.” + +“That’s mighty funny,” muttered the other. He was thinking of his +mistake, but Jack misunderstood. + +“I don’t see anything very funny in it,” he answered. “He takes after +me.” + +Meanwhile Mr. Cooper and Loring were getting quite well acquainted over +there. Mr. Cooper’s introductory remark had been a question revealing +his colossal ignorance of the intricacies of the national pastime, +and Loring had secretly thought it strange that Cooper had allowed +his father to remain so unenlightened. But he was glad to supply the +desired information, and explained not only the point then puzzling +Mr. Cooper but several others which arose later. Mr. Cooper moved +nearer and leaned his arms on the railing. In doing so he brought +Wattles into direct range and included him in the friendly smile which +accompanied his next remark. Watching, Loring was then and there +convinced of one thing. If Wattles recognized Mr. Cooper as some one he +had seen before, Mr. Cooper certainly had no recollection of Wattles. +He had a rather deep voice which, however, encompassed several tones. +The end of a remark might and frequently did end half a dozen notes +higher than where it had begun, a feature that Loring found both odd +and interesting. He spoke somewhat deliberately but without any drawl; +in fact, although uttered slowly, his words were distinct and crisp. He +was, Loring presently decided, undoubtedly an American, but an American +who had traveled much and whose speech and manner of speaking had been +borrowed from many lands. + +The conversation ranged from baseball to the school, and about the +latter Mr. Cooper was frankly curious. He had not, it appeared, seen +any of the buildings save from the outside. “Why,” exclaimed Loring, +“haven’t you even been up to Cooper’s――I mean your son’s room, sir?” + +“My son’s room?” repeated the other, almost startedly. + +“Yes, sir,” said Loring uncertainly. “I thought――some one said―― +Aren’t you Jack Cooper’s father, sir?” + +The gentleman shook his head. “Really, no,” he answered. “Who, if you +don’t mind, is Jack Cooper?” + +Loring, in some confusion, pointed him out――Jack’s face at the moment +was pretty well hidden behind the catcher’s mask――and the man who +wasn’t his father looked at him for several moments. Then: “Fine +looking chap,” he said, “but we’re not related. Sorry.” + +“But you are Mr. Cooper, aren’t you?” + +“Yes, but apparently not the right one.” He smiled deprecatingly while +Loring said hastily: “I guess it was Clif Bingham who told me you were +Cooper’s father. That was Saturday. I――we passed you on the street, +sir.” + +“I remember. Bingham is the boy who was at the helm that day?” + +“The helm? Oh, no, sir, that was Tom Kemble. Clif was the other.” + +“I thought I recognized them both here a bit ago. Isn’t that Kemble +standing by the cage thing?” + +“Yes, sir, and Clif Bingham’s playing out in the field; the middle one +of the three.” + +“Playing center field, I believe.” The statement was made questioningly, +and Mr. Cooper looked quite pleased when Loring’s nod indicated that he +had named the position correctly. “I’m rather a duffer about this game,” +he went on. “Haven’t seen much of it, you know.” His tone was +apologetic, and Loring, smiling, answered: “I’ll just bet, though, you +know plenty of other games, Mr. Cooper.” + +“Not so many. Golf, of course, and polo. I’ve played that a goodish +bit.” + +“Really?” exclaimed Loring. “I say, that must be corking! I’m going to +get dad to take me to the games next summer. You know, when the English +team comes across. Are you――do you play on one of our teams, sir?” + +“Oh, no. Most of my playing has been over in India and around there. +I’m really not much good at it.” + +“I’ll bet you are, just the same,” declared Loring, sweeping the lean +figure with his gaze. “And I guess you play a corking game of golf, +sir!” + +Mr. Cooper appeared pleased and somewhat embarrassed. “Why, thanks,” +he replied. “But corking’s hardly the word for the sort of game I +play nowadays. I dare say you, now, could give me――” Then he stopped +abruptly, with a sudden contraction of his brows, and: “By Jove, that +was stupid of me!” he added remorsefully. “Look here, I’m beastly +sorry, my boy!” + +But Loring was chuckling. “Please don’t apologize, sir! Why, I like +being――I like folks to forget. It’s almost as if I really could do +things like――other fellows, sir. You see, Mr. Cooper, if I was able +to I’d do everything of that sort. I mean play golf and baseball and +football and――I think, though, I’d rather play football than anything +else. Do you like football, sir? Did you use to play it?” + +“No, I never played football, Deane. Your name is Deane, I think?” + +“Yes, sir, but――I’m generally called Loring by my friends,” said the +boy a little shyly. + +“Thank you,” said the other gravely. “I see that you really have +forgiven me. I was going to say that I do like to watch a good football +game, but I’ve been knocking about a goodish bit and I don’t recall +when I saw the last one. I think it was in France, though; and that was +nine――no, say eight years ago.” + +“During the War?” asked Loring. + +“Yes, the Tommies played quite a bit, and so did the Yanks. Not the +same game, though.” + +“You were in the War, weren’t you, sir?” + +Mr. Cooper nodded. “Yes,” he said. Loring waited for more, but no more +came; and something in the man’s expression told him that another +subject would be preferred. A silence followed in which Mr. Cooper +watched the players, and Loring, appearing to do the same, really saw +very little of what was going on. He was thinking about the stranger, +reviewing the conversation and wondering if it would be permissible to +invite the other to his room. Although Loring had yielded thoroughly +to Mr. Cooper’s attractions he was aware that one member of the +trio had accepted that gentleman with reservations. Loring couldn’t +see Wattles without turning his head, and he hadn’t turned his head +once since Mr. Cooper had broken the ice, but he knew without seeing +that Wattles was not wholly approving. Perhaps that knowledge would +eventually have strengthened his determination to issue the invitation, +but just at the moment it caused hesitation, and before the hesitation +had ended the second team took its bats and traipsed away to the other +diamond and Mr. Cooper arose, said: “Good afternoon,” smiled and went +away, too. + +Loring rather unjustly blamed Wattles. “Look here,” he charged, “you +were beastly uncivil, Wattles, and I don’t like it.” + +“But I never said a word, Mr. Loring,” Wattles protested. + +“And I never said you did. But I’ll bet you looked as sour as a lime. +Don’t think I don’t know that――that frozen face of yours by this time! +Look here, what have you got against Mr. Cooper, anyway? You know +perfectly well that stuff about having seen him before is absolute +piffle!” + +“No, sir,” replied Wattles firmly. “Asking your pardon, Mr. Loring, I +am perfectly certain that I have encountered the gentleman previously.” + +“Where, then? And what of it? It wasn’t in prison, was it?” + +“I have never been in prison, Mr. Loring,” stated Wattles with hurt +dignity. + +“Oh, well, hang it, I didn’t say you had. Don’t be an ass, Wattles. If +you don’t remember where you met him, you can’t have anything against +him. And I could tell that he had never seen you in his life; at +least, doesn’t remember it if he has! I’m going to ask him to call the +next time I meet him, and I won’t have you looking the way you looked +to-day.” + +“Very good, sir.” + +Presently, trundling across the grass, Loring said: “Sorry I spoke +crossly, Wattles.” + +“Thank you, sir,” replied Wattles. “I regret having given offense, Mr. +Loring.” + +“You didn’t, really,” laughed the boy. “It was just my rotten temper.” + +Wednesday, however, Mr. Cooper was not at the field, and on Thursday +it rained, and as a consequence Loring didn’t meet Mr. Cooper again +for almost a fortnight. There was no practice for the second nine on +Friday, for Spring Recess commenced that day after the last recitation. +Only those living a considerable distance from school were permitted +to leave before Saturday morning, however, and the Triumvirate spent +Friday evening discussing their plans for vacation. Tom was to be +Clif’s guest until the following Saturday. Then he and Clif were to go +to Tom’s home in New Jersey, stopping in New York on the way to take +luncheon and go to a theater with Loring. Tom declared that he was +mighty glad he hadn’t made the first team, after all, since if he had +done so he would have had to remain at school. The first played four +games during recess, the first one at home and the others away. Clif +said he thought taking the spring trip with the nine would be more fun +than going home. Loring agreed with him, and so, perhaps, did Tom, +although he refused to acknowledge it. Loring introduced Mr. Cooper +again as a subject of discourse, but the others were rather fed up on +that gentleman and side-stepped. + +Loring went off soon after breakfast in a big, shining limousine, a car +of the make that Tom called a “Rolled Rice,” with a liveried chauffeur +in front and Wattles, immaculate in a silk-faced black overcoat and his +famous black derby, sitting beside the boy, an impressive picture of +Respectability. Wattles unbent for an instant as the automobile rolled +away and lifted his hat to the group on the steps of East Hall while +Loring waved his farewell. Wattles’ lapse from his standard of decorum +was induced by Tom’s parting hail of “Toodle-oo, Wattles, old top!” + +Mr. Bingham arrived an hour later, and Clif and Tom piled their bags +into the back of the old blue car and then crowded into the front with +the driver. The blue car wasn’t a “Rolled Rice,” but it refused to +take any one’s dust――not that there was any dust to-day, however――and +slipped across country to Hartford, the luncheon stop, and then on to +Providence quite as expeditiously and probably just as comfortably as +the other could have done. Clif took the wheel after lunch and Mr. +Bingham retired to the rear seat to smoke several long cigars. + +The week simply whisked itself away, and on Saturday the two boys +said good-by to Mr. Bingham and boarded the train for New York. There +Loring and Wattles awaited them at the station, and they were borne +away to a big house uptown and a cordial welcome from Loring’s father +and mother. Mr. Deane was a pink-cheeked, military-looking gentleman +who, in spite of his great wealth, seemed to have very little to do +and enjoyed doing it hugely. He and the visitors were already good +friends and shared a number of small jokes between them. Mrs. Deane +was, according to Tom’s frequently expressed judgment, a “pippin’.” +Clif, for his part, had more than half fallen in love with her at first +meeting, and still adored her shyly. That was a wonderful luncheon +partly because it consisted of just the beautiful indigestible things +that boys crave after a strict régime of school and partly because they +were tremendously hungry. After luncheon there was a quick drive down +the asphalt surface of the avenue, a breath-taking lurch into a side +street and a hurried alighting before the theater. And they just made +it! Loring, borne by Wattles, had scarcely been seated in his chair +in the front of the box when the curtain rolled up and the darkened +house became a glow of golden radiance. After that, save for brief +interludes, Clif forgot that he was in New York and that the time was +the humdrum twentieth century. He was in Old France where a gallant +gentleman with a stupendous nose made Romance real at last and defeated +his enemies――all save one!――with flashing blade or nimble wit. Clif was +half-way to Morristown in the train before he finally emerged from the +glamour cast upon him by the play. + +Tom’s guardian, Mr. Winslow, lived in a modest frame house fronted by a +few square yards of greening turf and two leafless, contorted mulberry +trees. After the Deane mansion, Tom’s home was a come-down, a thought +occurring to both boys but uttered only by Tom. “Rather a hovel,” he +said as they alighted from a taxi, “but I warned you of that, Clif.” +Tom had a big room, sparingly furnished, at the top of the house, and +Clif was to share it with him. It was chill and damp up there, for +spring had not yet ousted winter from the walls of the old structure. + +Clif declared that the room was very jolly and that everything was +perfectly corking, but secretly he was pleased that there were but two +nights to spend there. Mr. Winslow, who appeared at supper time, proved +to be a square-set gentleman of some fifty years, with an outward +affability that didn’t survive Tom’s first night at home. The evening +proved rather a dull one, and, since Clif was thoroughly tired, he +suggested bed quite early. Tom seconded the motion, but his guardian +expressed a desire to talk with him and Clif ascended the stairs alone. +Afterward, although he tightly closed the chamber door, the voices of +Mr. Winslow and Tom floated up to him for the better part of an hour, +and it was evident to the listener that all was not peace and amity +below stairs. Tom finally appeared, sullenly angry, bitter of speech. +Clif learned that Mr. Winslow was not pleased with the reports received +from Wyndham, especially those having to do with Tom’s work in his +English course, and had been particularly nasty about it. “Says if I +don’t do better,” growled Tom, casting a shoe noisily to the floor, +“he’s going to take me out of school! All right, let him! If he does +I’ll beat it away from here mighty quick. _He_ won’t see me, that’s a +cinch! I’ll go right from Freeburg to New York and get into the Navy!” + +“The Navy won’t take you without his assent, Tom. You’re only sixteen.” + +“I’ll be seventeen next month, won’t I? Well, then! And whose money +is it, anyhow? You’d think, the way he goes on, he was paying for my +schooling and everything! I’ll bet he gets his share, the old grafter!” + +“Don’t call names,” said Clif quietly. “As Cocky used to tell us last +fall, ‘Fight, but keep your mouth closed!’” + +Tom eventually calmed down and retired for the night in fair temper, +but the incident didn’t increase Clif’s pleasure in the visit. + +Mr. Winslow retained an elderly woman of good family and former +affluence, who had lost husband and affluence――with Mr. Winslow’s +assistance, Tom stoutly declared――at the same time, to keep house +for him. She was no addition to domestic cheerfulness, although she +did make an excellent dried-apple pie, her meager conversation being +confined to what Tom called “post mortems.” Recollection of the years +before poverty had come to her invariably induced sniffles. Clif was +rather sorry for her, but he did wish she would use a handkerchief more +often! + +On Sunday morning Mr. Winslow, Mrs. Pelton――the housekeeper――Clif and +Tom seated themselves in a small automobile of a rare vintage and +rolled decorously to an ivy-covered church. Clif had Mrs. Pelton on his +left and suffered a good deal when, he having found the hymn for her, +she lifted her voice in song. He was heartily relieved when the sermon +began. Sunday dinner was a somewhat solemn meal and certainly none +too appetizing. Clif never had liked roast lamb much, anyway, and this +particular roast had a “wooly” flavor which did nothing to increase his +liking. The dinner accomplished one beneficent end, though; it sent +Mr. Winslow to sleep in the parlor. With sighs of relief the boys let +themselves out of the house and sallied forth in quest of adventure. +They didn’t find adventure, but they had a good walk and returned to +supper in better spirits. Tom rebelled against church in the evening, +and his guardian, although disapproving, forebore to press the point +and went off alone. Eventually bedtime came. + +Very early in the morning they started back to Freeburg. Clif wondered +if he would ever again be so glad to return to school as he was to-day! + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + “THE OLD WILL POWER” + + +They reached school well before Loring. He didn’t return until nearly +four, revealing that even a “Rolled Rice” can have tire troubles. After +greetings and a few questions had been exchanged, Loring asked: “Look +here, fellows, have you heard about Evans and Cox?” + +Clif shook his head, while Tom said: “Sounds like a good ticket. I’ll +vote for ’em. Who are they?” + +Loring, though, was too much in earnest to appreciate persiflage. +“Don’t you read the papers?” he demanded. “The _Times_ had it yesterday +morning.” + +“Do you mean Stu Evans?” asked Clif. + +“Yes! He and Cox; Harold Cox, isn’t it? They got banged up over on Long +Island Saturday afternoon. They were in Cox’s car, and a truck shoved +them out of the road, and they went down into a ditch. Evans broke a +couple of ribs, the paper said, and Cox got cut up sort of badly and +hurt an arm!” + +“Gosh!” said Tom. “Cox is the fellow with the long neck and whitish +hair, isn’t he? Say, that’s too bad.” + +“Have they come back?” asked Clif. + +“Here? No, indeed. They were taken to a hospital and then to Cox’s +home. They won’t be back for a couple of weeks at least, I fancy.” + +“Too bad,” said Tom again, but he said it more slowly, and an +expression of uneasiness came into his face. + +“That surely ought to put you on second,” said Clif. + +Tom nodded, but he looked troubled. “Look here,” he exclaimed, “I don’t +like it! I wasn’t keen about that will power business when we started +it, and after this I’m off it for life!” + +“But, Great Scott――” began Clif. + +“If it’s going to get fellows into trouble I’m through with it,” +declared Tom emphatically. + +“But you don’t mean that you think _we_ had anything to do with it!” +gasped Loring. + +“Sure, I do! Why not? Weren’t we all putting our minds on getting on +the team? You and Clif and me? Well, look what happens! Stu Evans gets +laid up so he can’t play! If that isn’t up to us and――and our ‘Work +and Will’ stuff, I’ll eat my hat! And that guy Cox was an outfielder, +wasn’t he? Huh?” + +“I don’t know what he was,” replied Clif, frowning. “He never played +much, I guess. He was generally on the bench. Anyway, you can’t say +his accident helps me any! And, as for the other――” + +“Sure, it helps you! You’ve got one less fellow to fight, haven’t you? +How do you know Tusks didn’t have Cox in mind for one of the outfield +jobs? No, sir, I’m through. There are some things――forces, or whatever +you want to call them――that we don’t understand, and it’s a mighty safe +thing to let them alone!” + +“But, Tom, for the love of limes,” exclaimed Loring, “think a minute! +We didn’t put our minds on Evans and Cox. We were willing Mr. Wadleigh +to――” + +“It doesn’t matter,” interrupted Tom stoutly. “The thing got away from +us, I suppose. It didn’t stop at Tusks. It went on and slammed those +two fellows into a ditch. Why, heck, there’s no telling what it might +do next! First thing we knew there might be an influx, or whatever you +call it, of measles or――or typhoid or something and the whole blamed +batting-list would be nix!” + +By degrees they argued him away from his conviction, but it required +time and eloquence, and even after they had succeeded it was evident +that Tom retained mental reservations and was only partly reconciled +with the psychology program. A few days later it was learned that +neither of the absent players had been seriously hurt, but the fact +remained that they were both lost to the second team for several +weeks. On Tuesday Tusks tried both Roe and Tom at second, and each +showed so poorly, Roe at fielding and Tom at batting, that there was +little to choose between them. When the second met the first Roe scored +two errors, one a fumble of an easy liner and the other a wild throw +over Scott’s head. For his part, Tom accepted five chances well but was +a miserable failure on his two trips to the plate. + +The first team had met with two reverses during the recess, having been +beaten by Hoskins and Goodwin. The two remaining contests had been +won from Grayhold and Highland. So far, out of seven games, Wyndham +had won four and lost three. Coach Connover, none too well satisfied, +tried several new combinations in his infield during the week following +vacation and, on Thursday, drafted Frost from the second to strengthen +his pitching staff. The loss of Frosty left Mr. Wadleigh in something +of a hole, for he had left only Purdy and a third-rate twirler named +Ferry. Ferry usually played left field and confined his pitching to +serving them up to the net in practice. Since the second had three +games of her own scheduled for later on, Tusks began to look about +for new talent, while the members of his team set up a loud howl of +protest. None of them begrudged Frosty his good fortune, but they did +wish he might have been left to the second. A boy named Fawkes, who +had been pitching on one of the scrub nines, was given a try-out, but +he showed small promise and was soon released. After that Ferry was +taken in hand and groomed as an alternate for Billy Purdy. And Ferry, +to the surprise of all and sundry, responded remarkably to the call to +service. Relieved of the drudgery of pitching to the net every day, he +remembered two or three tricky curves with which he had started out +three years before to become a great twirler, brushed the cobwebs off +them and, with Purdy standing by with advice, managed to make something +of them. Ferry had no speed, but he had his curves and a fair degree of +control, and on the first occasion of meeting with the big team puzzled +the rival batsmen through three innings. The first got just four hits +in those chapters. In the fourth, though, Van Dyke met one of Ferry’s +curves and slammed it for three bases, and after that Ferry went from +bad to worse and gave way to Purdy in the fifth. + +That afternoon Clif played a whole game through at center field. He +made one difficult catch, misjudged another rather badly and, toward +the end of the one-sided contest, heaved a fine throw from short center +to Jack Cooper in time to catch a runner at the plate and retire the +side. At bat Clif had no luck that day, knocking a short fly to third +baseman his first time up, striking out the next time and hitting into +a double the next. He would have come to bat again in the eighth, but +there were two away and Connell was on second and Tusks sent Pringle +in to pinch-hit. Clif somehow couldn’t feel very sorry when Pringle hit +at the first delivery and dropped a fly into the hands of Greene in +center field. + +By that time――the spring term was eight days old――Tom was established +on second, for the present at least. Neither he nor the other members +of the Triumvirate really expected him to retain his position after +Evans’ return, although they pretended to, for Stu not only fielded +well but had a mighty good batting record besides. Tom’s batting was +still negligible; and that is speaking charitably. Once on base――and he +did have a lucky faculty for getting to first by one means or another +other than by hitting the ball safely――he was a fast runner and a +heady one, and the number of runs credited to him after a fortnight’s +steady playing was quite out of proportion to his total of hits. On +second base Tom played a snappy game, covering a good deal of ground +and throwing well. He even enveloped himself in brief glory on two +occasions, once by running well into right field for a Texas Leaguer +that looked impossible and once by a sliding stop of a hard liner which +he tossed over his head to Connell, covering the bag, and which Connell +sped to first for a double play. He made errors frequently, but, as +Loring pointed out, it was because he took so many chances. + +Horner Academy was beaten, 4 to 2, in a well-played game, Ogden going +the whole length in the box, and on the following Saturday Tollington +High School was defeated in a contest requiring the services of Ogden, +Frost and Erlingby. Frosty made his first appearance with the big team +that afternoon and lasted only one and two-thirds innings, after going +to the relief of Ogden in the fifth. Frosty seemed to have nothing on +the ball, and he was hit to all corners of the field for two runs. Only +some smart fielding and the fact that several of the batters hit flies +to the outfield saved him from a worse fate. Sam Erlingby finished out +and held the rampaging visitors to five more hits and two more runs. +As Wyndham had started by stowing five runs away in her locker and had +accumulated an average of one more for every succeeding inning, she +escaped disaster, winning by 13 to 10. + +If Tom’s position on the second nine was precarious, Clif’s was much +more so. In fact, Clif could hardly be said to have a position. +Ferry’s withdrawal from left field to pitcher’s box had resulted in +the transference of Marler from center to left and the trying of +various players in the middle garden. Burke, Deeker and Clif were +experimented with. Deeker was eliminated in short order, leaving +Burke and Clif to fight it out. There didn’t seem much choice. Burke +was as good a fielder as Clif; had played on the second last season +and in consequence was ahead in experience; was equally as certain +a hitter. Usually Coach Wadleigh started one and finished with the +other. Infrequently one of the rivals played a practice game through. +Clif, in spite of psychology, had a sneaking suspicion that Burke +would eventually land the position. Of course when the old will power +was working just right he could vision himself holding down the job +unchallenged, but the old will power had a mean habit of developing +engine trouble at times! + +Shortly after the beginning of the new term Clif and Tom arrived at +Loring’s room one evening after supper to find another visitor ahead +of them. The host, rather proudly as it seemed, introduced them to Mr. +Cooper. Mr. Cooper appeared a trifle embarrassed as he shook hands, and +for the succeeding ten or fifteen minutes had very little to say. Clif, +recalling his father’s indorsement of Mr. Cooper, was very friendly. +Tom, however, perhaps because he had tired before this of Loring’s +frequent allusions to the gentleman, was less gracious. Without being +in the least impolite, he nevertheless managed to suggest that he +resented the presence of the outsider. Doubtless Mr. Cooper caught +the suggestion, for more than once Clif found him observing Tom with +studious intentness. Conversation limped for awhile. Even Tom was too +courteous to introduce or pursue a subject which the stranger could not +participate in or at least comprehend. Finally it was a chance word +of Loring’s that removed the restraint. Searching for a fresh line of +conversation, Loring asked: “How did psychology work to-day, Clif?” +Clif shook his head. That afternoon Burke had had rather the better of +it. Then he turned to Mr. Cooper to ask: “I wonder if you believe in +that stuff, sir?” + +“Psychology?” said the man inquiringly. + +Clif explained. “Yes, sir. Loring thinks you can get what you want by +setting your mind on it and willing it to――to happen. You know, sort +of out-thinking the other chap; making your will stronger than his +and――that sort of thing.” + +“You ask if I believe in it? Why, yes, I do. After all, Mr. Bingham, +there’s nothing new in it, you know. History’s full of it.” + +“Well,” pursued Clif, “now here’s a case, sir. Suppose you’ve got one +person set on doing a certain thing a certain way and you’ve got three +other fel――persons set on having him do it another way. Do you think +that the three can make the first fellow do it their way by――by mental +suggestion, or whatever you call it? I guess that’s sort of mixed-up, +the way I put it, but maybe you understand what I’m getting at.” + +“Yes, I understand, but I can’t say yes or no to it. You see, it +might depend on several things. First of all, I dare say, on whether +what the three wanted was something very much opposed to the one +man’s――er――inclinations, something that in the natural order of events +he wouldn’t consider doing. For instance, there are three of you +chaps. I might get out of this chair with the intention of walking to +the door and going back to the Inn. If you three willed that instead +of walking to the door I should crawl on my hands and knees you’d +doubtless lose out for the simple reason that I am not accustomed to +taking my departure in that fashion and would consider it――er――both +uncomfortable and lacking in dignity. In that case a contest of wills +would result in a victory for the minority.” + +“Yes, I see that,” said Clif. “But suppose we just willed you to――let +me see――to drop your hat and pick it up on the way to the door?” + +“The odds would be shorter,” replied Mr. Cooper, smiling. “I frequently +do drop my hat, or my stick, or my gloves. In that case the result +would probably depend on how strong your wills were. You might win if +only because I, not knowing what was up, wouldn’t actively oppose you. +Care to try it?” + +“Heck,” said Tom, “you’d _know_, and of course we couldn’t do it!” + +“Yet I might,” responded the other soberly. “I’ve seen several cases +where mental suggestion, for want of a better name, has seemingly done +strange things. I’ll tell you of one, if you like.” + +“Yes, sir, please!” said Clif and Loring in chorus. Tom remained +silent, but he looked as interested as the others. Perhaps Mr. Cooper +had determined to overcome the slight antagonism still entertained by +Tom, for all along he had seemed to address himself to Tom rather than +to the others, and he continued to as he went on. + +“This happened several years ago at a place called Canghall in the +north of Scotland. A lot of us were stationed there after the War. We +had a golf course of sorts near the garrison and played a good deal. +Our best man was a chap named Brosser, a Major. He could wallop any +of us, which wasn’t so bad, but he got himself eternally hated by +always reminding us of it. As a soldier he was a fine fellow, but as a +sportsman he was a rank outsider. If you took him on he not only beat +you hard but he kept bragging about it, before, during and after. I +guess he was the most thoroughly detested player who ever sank a putt. +It got so, finally, that no one would play with the swanker, and he had +to offer all sorts of handicaps and odds to get a game. Things went +on like that for a year or more. Then a few of us saw that something +had to be done. One of the mess knew a young chap named Bedford who +was then on leave of absence down in Kent. This Bedford, a subaltern, +was a good golfer, but just how good we didn’t know. Just the same, we +decided to have a try with him. Well, we wrote to him and told him the +lay and called on him in the name of all that was holy to come up for a +week and slay the dragon. + +“He came, and I liked his looks from the first. Rather a wispy lad, +he was; long-limbed and awkward until you put a club in his hands. +Very modest, too, and not at all sure he could turn the trick for us, +but willing to try. It didn’t take more than five minutes to arrange +the match. The Major was tickled to death and went around telling +what he would do to the youngster. Bedford played the course two or +three times and then the match was on. The whole garrison turned out +to see it. I don’t suppose, unless it was his caddie, the Major had a +‘rooter’ in the crowd. But that didn’t bother him a bit. I fancy he +preferred things that way. Bedford didn’t get his stride until they’d +played four holes, and by that time the Major had him two down. Bedford +wasn’t in the Major’s class with the driver, but he was a wizard with +an iron, and not far behind the other on his putts. He got into his +swing after a while and at the end of nine holes he was even up. From +there on it was a ding-dong battle. They were both playing wonderfully +good golf. If the Major won one hole Bedford won the next, and so it +went to the fifteenth. Bedford won that. They halved the sixteenth. +The seventeenth was long but not hard if you kept in the fairway. Your +first shot laid you down in the narrows, as we called it. There was a +point of forest coming in on your right and some ugly ground on the +left, rocks and gorse. The Major had sailed through there a hundred +times without trouble, and we all knew it. But we hoped. Afterwards, +talking it over, we found that every last one of us had prayed that +the Major would slice into the woods. You see, the rough on the other +side wouldn’t have done so well. With luck you could wangle out of +there and be not much the worse for it. We’d all of us seen the Major +get in there with a bad lie and still reach the green in par. So we all +put our minds on the woods, and, since there wasn’t a sound when the +Major laid his brassie behind his ball, I fancy there was a deal of +mental suggestion going on. Bedford had shot clean and sweet over the +rise, and we knew he was all right. The Major looked a bit grim as he +prepared to swing, but he didn’t show any nerves. And then he hit.” + +“Well――well――” stammered Clif eagerly when the narrator stopped, “what +happened, sir?” + +“Why,” answered Mr. Cooper, smiling, “what could happen? There was only +one of the Major and a whole rabble of us. He sliced into the trees, +lost ball, stroke, hole and match, two down and one to play!” + +“Great!” approved Clif. + +“And do you really think, sir,” asked Loring, “that mental suggestion +did it?” + +“You’ll have to decide that for yourself. That is, _I_ think so, but +the Major doesn’t. He says he took his eye off the ball!” + + + + + CHAPTER X + + “FIGHT! FIGHT!” + + +The gong warning them of study hour rang and Clif and Tom departed. +Somewhat more than an hour later, however, they were back again. +Naturally Mr. Cooper was the subject of conversation for awhile. Clif, +too, had now fallen victim to the attractions of the gentleman, and he +and Loring ventured numerous theories regarding him. “I’ll bet,” Clif +declared, “he’s seen a lot. He reminds you of one of those explorer +chaps you read about and see pictures of, doesn’t he? Look at the way +he’s all tanned up.” + +“I don’t believe that’s tan,” said Tom. “I think his liver’s on the +fritz. Well, maybe some of it’s tan, but――” + +“I guess he must have lived in India,” remarked Loring. “I met a man +who lived there for a long time; represented an American oil company; +and he had just the same sort of skin.” + +“How come he was in the English Army, though, if he’s an American?” +asked Clif. + +“I don’t believe he’s an American at all,” scoffed Tom. + +“I do! Look at the way he talks. Not all the time, but usually. He +doesn’t talk a bit like Wattles.” + +“I think,” said Loring gravely, “he’s a Cosmopolite.” + +Tom was evidently in doubt as to what that was, but before he could +ask enlightenment Clif exclaimed: “Well, whatever he is, he’s a mighty +nice sort. I like him. I suppose he’s really quite old, but he doesn’t +seem so, does he? Do you suppose he’s going to stay here right along, +Loring?” + +Tom made no objections to the recent guest as a topic of conversation, +and even expressed an opinion himself now and then, but it was plain to +be seen that he did not share the other boys’ enthusiasm for Mr. Cooper. + +The first nine began its mid-week games the following Wednesday, +playing High Point School to an eleven-innings tie. Jeff Ogden was +at his best that afternoon and went through eight frames without +allowing a real hit. He was rather liberal with passes, but those, like +Wyndham’s errors, were scattered, and the opponent never got a man past +second while he was on the mound. High Point’s twirler was touched up +for five hits in the same period, but none of the hits led to runs. +There was some poor base running on Wyndham’s part, and that, coupled +with smart fielding by the invader, kept the home team scoreless to the +tenth. Bud Moore, who succeeded Ogden, was hit more freely, and in the +ninth two hits and an error by Captain Leland let in the first tally +of the game and seemed to spell disaster for Wyndham. But the latter +rallied in the last half of the inning and, through Raiford’s double, +Talbott’s out to left fielder and a sacrifice fly by Van Dyke, evened +up the score. Moore tightened in the tenth and held the enemy hitless, +and after Wyndham had gone out in one, two, three order the game was +called so that the visitors could catch a train. + +With the first playing two games a week, the second nine met the big +team only on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays. There was never any game +on Monday since Coach Connover devoted that day to furbishing up on the +rudiments. On Wednesdays the second was generally released in time to +witness the last four or five innings of the first’s game, if played at +home. On Saturdays, by the time May was half gone, the second held no +practice at all. In consequence, when, three days after the High Point +game, the first journeyed to Greenville, twenty miles distant, to meet +Greenville Academy, most of the scrubs went along. Of the number were +Clif and Tom. + +Wyndham started Frosty in the box, and Greenville, by reputation a +hard-hitting lot, took to his offerings with much enthusiasm. The +visitor’s outfielders nearly ran their legs off during that first +inning and by the time the last man had flied out to Greene, in center +field, four runs had crossed the plate. The Greenville rooters loudly +demanded the removal of Frost and did a good deal of jeering, and +Frosty was evidently far from happy during that opening. Nevertheless +Steve sent him out again for the second inning, in spite of the fact +that Wyndham had failed to even reach first base, and, after passing +the first batsman, he settled down somewhat and pitched fairly good +ball. With two out a long fly into left field escaped Talbott and the +runner went all the way to third. He scored a minute or two later when +Wink Coles juggled the ball long enough to let the batter reach first. +After that Frosty worked the next man for two strikes on wide curves, +pitched him two balls and then fooled him on a slow one. + +The game went at 5 to 0 until the fourth. Wyndham was finding the +Greenville left-hander a tough proposition, but in the fourth two +singles together put Hurry Leland on second with one away and when +Raiford was safe on first on a close decision the bags were all +occupied. Talbott, however, failed to come through and made the second +out, second baseman to first, and it was up to Van Dyke. Van found +himself in the hole after three deliveries and then watched the fourth +go past for a second ball. He spoiled the next by fouling it into the +stand. Then he swung and hit cleanly into short right, scoring Hurry +and Pat Tyson. When, however, he started to steal second a moment +later the signals went wrong and a quick peg to third caught Raiford +flat-footed. + +Greenville added two more runs to her score in the fifth, although the +one hit she made, a hard liner that Coles allowed to get through him, +came with two down. The runner made second without trouble and went to +third when Frost pitched his first delivery over Cobham’s head. Frosty +cracked badly then and passed the next batsman, who promptly stole to +second. When he had tossed three balls and no strikes to the following +player he was retired in favor of Erlingby. But Sam couldn’t keep the +bases from filling, and when Van Dyke failed to get a liner just inside +of first two runs crossed. Sam struck out the Greenville pitcher, and a +bad inning was over. + +In the seventh Wyndham got two on after Cobham had fouled out and +Erlingby had fanned, but they died when Captain Leland proved an easy +out at first. Greenville added her eighth and last tally in her half of +the inning, and Wyndham tried desperately to stage a rally in the first +of the next chapter, and did get one lone run after Raiford had bunted, +Talbott had sacrificed and Van Dyke had hit a short fly back of third. +In the ninth, although Steve introduced a pinch hitter for Coles, who +had had no luck at all against the Greenville left-hand artist, not a +man reached first, and the Dark Blue went home tagged with her fourth +defeat. + +Clif and Tom had not found the game much to their liking and were +rather disgruntled when they left the stand with some three score of +their schoolmates. So, when a loud-mouthed youth carrying a green +megaphone and wearing a funny green-and-white skullcap forced himself +on Tom’s attention, Tom edged out of the throng and sought adventure. +Although the Greenville partisan was a hunk of a boy and was well +surrounded by friends, Tom displayed no hesitation. He walked up to +the youth, seized the inadequate visor of his funny cap and pulled it +down on his nose, stepped on his toe and said: “Is that _so_?” in a +truly insulting manner. Clif and Jack Cooper reached their compatriot +the next instant and strove to lead him back into the crowd, but Tom +wouldn’t budge. Greenville congregated rapidly. Innocent non-partisans +were shoved and elbowed. In a moment Tom, Clif and Jack were hemmed in +very solidly. Acrimonious debate began. The youth in the skullcap was +outraged and said so loudly. Clif and Jack ingratiatingly apologized +for Tom’s hasty behavior, and Tom promptly declined to be apologized +for. The enemy said something extremely uncomplimentary to Tom and +accompanied it with a quick blow which, intended for Tom’s head, landed +on his neck. + +After that events were very confusing. Clif found himself wedged +against a painfully sharp plank, connected in some minor capacity with +the grandstand, while a large, burly youth threatened him with a vague +but awful fate if he didn’t keep still. “You keep out of it,” advised +the big fellow. “Let your friend get what’s coming to him.” He grinned +widely and appeared to bear no malice. Between the heads and over the +shoulders of boys in front of him Clif could catch momentary glimpses +of Tom and his adversary exchanging earnest blows. A few feet away Jack +Cooper was trying hard to plow through the ring of observers, whether +to take part in the fight or merely to secure an unimpeded view Clif +couldn’t tell. Farther away Clif saw the crowd become denser every +moment. Cries of “Fight! Fight!” arose, and the efforts of those on +the outside to get nearer were now seriously incommoding the battlers. +“Keep back!” shouted the fortunate possessors of ring-side positions. +“Don’t crowd! Give ’em room!” Clif had a brief vision of Tom, smiling +grimly, taking a wallop on one ear. Then, quite as if by magic, Tom +disappeared and a roar of applause told the story. Clif struggled +forward, now but half-heartedly restrained by the burly youth, and +found himself able to see over a shoulder. Tom was getting up from +the ground very slowly, very cautiously, his head guarded, and Clif +sighed vastly with relief. The Greenville champion showed wear, but was +evidently all for seeing it through. Tom was on his feet again, had +rushed. There were sounds of blows. Clif couldn’t see for a moment. +Then he did see. The two were clinched, both raining ineffectual +blows. A man, doubtless a self-constituted referee, forced them apart. +Tom retreated. His opponent followed, feinting. Close to Clif’s ear a +voice bellowed: “Bore into him, Tom! Don’t let him swing that right on +you!” + +The voice was Jack Cooper’s. Maybe, above the many other voices, Tom +heard it. At all events, he sprang forward, took a blow on his head +and landed once, twice on the body. Green gave back and Blue followed. +Tom ducked a wide swing and darted a straight right to the chin. It +was short and they clinched again. Once more the referee parted them. +Tom didn’t retreat this time. He took punishment and gave it. Green +left a wide opening and Blue shot a short jab to the face, ducked and +planted a hard one on Green’s ribs. Green faltered, looked worried, +dropped his right for an instant and then it was all over. Tom swung up +with his left, there was a sound like “_Ugh!_” and the referee jumped +forward, an outstretched arm motioning Tom back. But Tom knew that his +job was finished, and, while the audience still retained its attitude +of neutrality, still shouted applause for the victor, he dived into the +line where Clif and Jack were. + +“Come on,” he panted. “Let’s beat it before they get sore!” + +“I’ll say so!” agreed Jack, put his shoulder against a neighbor and +led the way. No one tried to detain them, although many stared and +some applauded, and a moment later they were outside the crowd and the +village street lay before them. Behind them the crowd was dissolving, +still ahum with excitement. Small boys, surmising the identity of the +hatless youth with the red, contused countenance, proclaimed their +discovery loudly. Disapproving looks from scandalized but lingering +citizens marked their hasty retreat. The bodyguard of urchins increased +embarrassingly, and Jack threatened the leaders with dire things if +they didn’t “beat it.” But that didn’t prevail against the youthful +hero-worshipers. They went ahead and behind and alongside, noisily +discussing the event and the hero’s personal appearance, the latter +not always flatteringly. The trio walked as fast as they could, but +the spectators of the recent fray had sighted them and set forth in +pursuit. Clif looked back. + +“There’s a bunch of them,” he announced uneasily. “They’re running now. +Gosh, we can’t fight them all!” + +“I guess they won’t trouble us,” said Jack. But his tone lacked +conviction. + +Tom drew a swollen hand from a pocket, turned and viewed the situation +appraisingly. “If they don’t make trouble they’ll razz us like the +dickens. How far’s the station, Clif?” + +“About four or five blocks, I think. Let’s run, Tom.” + +“Aw, what for?” Jack protested. “I’m not afraid of that gang.” + +“You,” replied Tom, “stay here and tell ’em about it. I’m off!” And so +was Clif, and, after an instant, so, too, was Jack! + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + TOM HITS A “JOLLY CRASH” + + +They tried to give the appearance of persons hurrying to the station +to catch a train, but, since Tom was hatless and frequently applied a +handkerchief to his flushed face, the imitation was far from perfect. +When their course took them from the main thoroughfare Clif cast a look +behind and announced that the pursuit had ceased, and they slowed to a +walk, Tom puffing considerably. The station was in sight, a short two +blocks distant, and as there was plenty of time they proceeded slowly, +striving to regain composure before facing the eyes of their fellows. + +“Say,” asked Clif while Tom paused to examine his countenance in a +window, “what the dickens did you do that for, anyway?” + +“It was a patriotic duty,” replied Tom. “Didn’t you hear the nasty +cracks that goof was making? Besides, I’ve always hated those idiotic +caps that stick on the back of your head like a plaster!” + +“Well, if you’re going to light into every fellow who criticizes our +team,” Clif grumbled, “you’ll have to travel alone. Gosh, you might +have started a regular riot!” + +“Well, I didn’t. And anyway that hunk of cheese will keep his thoughts +to himself for awhile, I guess.” + +On the train Tom sought a water cooler and performed first aid to his +face. But he did not, of course, escape observation, and, while he was +reticent and Clif vague, Jack, not having been bound to secrecy, gladly +entertained an enthralled audience with a dramatic and highly colored +narrative. Regret at having missed the event was loudly expressed on +all sides. Pat Tyson, of the first team, was plunged into a dejection +that lasted all the way home. Admiring friends clustered about Tom and +gloated over the evidence displayed by his battered face, and a few +were inclined to be rather peevish because he had not tipped them off +to the fracas beforehand. It was generally conceded that it would be an +excellent plan for him to remain out of sight of Mr. Connover, who, if +a coach, was also a faculty member, and so Tom settled himself as far +as possible from that gentleman, with his back turned, and played it +safe. Yet luck was against him, for when the hour’s journey was almost +over Steve arose and strolled to the water cooler at the rear of the +car. There, having appeased his thirst and exchanged a few words with +Al Greene, across the aisle, his glance wandered to Tom. Tom was gazing +absorbedly from the window, and continued to so gaze until, thinking +that the coach had returned to his seat, he glanced about to make +certain. Whereupon Mr. Connover spoke solicitously. + +“What’s the matter with your face, Kemble?” he asked. + +Tom feigned surprise and passed an inquiring hand over it. “Must be +dirt, sir.” + +“It doesn’t look like dirt.” Mr. Connover shook his head slowly. +“Rather looks as if you’d had some sort of an accident.” Clif, at Tom’s +side, gazed steadily at the brass knob on the car door. + +“Oh!” said Tom, enlightenment in his voice. “That, you mean? Yes, sir, +I――I did have an accident, sort of.” + +“Ran into something, perhaps?” asked the coach gravely. + +“Yes, sir, I――ran into――something.” + +“Hm, something rather hard, too, I’d say. Perhaps you turned a corner +too soon. If I were you, Kemble, I’d go to my room at once and fix that +up. You’ll find arnica helpful. And it might be a good idea to use some +talcum before going to supper.” + +“He’s a good scout,” muttered Tom as the coach retired. + +Although he followed the advice carefully, the result was not all +he had hoped for, and whenever during supper he glanced up――which +was infrequently, since he kept his head well down most of the +time――he invariably encountered winks and grins. Also, he was made +uncomfortable by the certainty that Old Brad, the Greek and Latin +instructor, presiding at Table 13, was studying him with a suspicious +eye. However, all’s well that ends well, and nothing unpleasant +came of his indiscretion. By the next morning, save for an area of +discoloration which no amount of powder would hide, his face was +normal. As for the similar spots on his ribs, those fortunately didn’t +show! + +By the middle of the following week Mr. Cooper had become a frequent +caller on Loring after supper time. It became quite the usual thing +to find him there when Clif and Tom went over from dining hall, and +Clif, for one, was disappointed when he wasn’t there. Sometimes he +played chess with Loring or Tom, but he was no master of the game, +and generally the hour or more between supper and study hour was +spent in talk. Mr. Cooper still remained something of a mystery, for +none of the Triumvirate was rude enough to ask questions. They did +learn quite a little about him, but their information came to them +in unrelated fragments. They learned, for instance, that he had been +in many countries in many capacities; in South America, at Bahia and +Pernambuco; in India at Bombay and as far north as Kashmir; in Italy at +towns they had never before heard the names of; in England and France +and Germany and other countries as well. Once――that was before the +World War――he had served in Algiers with the French Armée Coloniale. +After the War, as he had told them earlier, he had been in the English +Army in Scotland. What had gone between they didn’t discover then, +although they knew he had seen service. Lately, how lately was not +established, he had been in British Columbia; he referred to it as +“B.C.” and confused Tom horribly. These facts appeared casually in the +course of reminiscences. He never appeared to be trying to impress +them with his experiences. Something reminded him of an incident, and +he told it carelessly but always interestingly. His very manner of +dismissing a whole glamorous land with a word or a phrase was in itself +fascinating to the audience. But he was not always reciting yarns. +More frequently he was listening to the doings of the boys, chuckling +over the funny happenings of the day or giving grave attention to +their problems. He showed no preference for any one of them, although +he and Loring, seeing each other nearly every day at the field, had +attained to an intimacy not wholly shared by Tom or Clif. Sometimes +Clif received the impression that Mr. Cooper laid more store by Tom’s +interest or applause than on his or Loring’s; but that was probably +because Tom had shown himself more difficult. That Tom was gradually +growing to share his companions’ hearty liking for Mr. Cooper was soon +apparent. And that respect went with liking was proved by something +which happened one evening that week. + +Tom had played a very good game at second base that afternoon, which, +since the former incumbent of the position, Stu Evans, had returned +to school two days before, was considered most fortunate. Stu wasn’t +yet in condition to play baseball, but he soon would be according to +report, and the Triumvirate were hoping――and willing――that Tom would +meanwhile prove his right to retain the position. But they realized +that he wouldn’t do so unless he improved his hitting considerably. +That was dwelt on this evening, and Tom grew quite pathetic over his +inability to get a hit off the first team pitchers. “That’s what’s +going to queer me,” he said sadly. “That fellow Evans doesn’t have to +play second any better than I do, because he’s got the edge on me when +it comes to batting.” + +“What I can’t understand,” said Clif rather hopelessly, “is why you +don’t get onto yourself. Tusks shows you how to bat his way and you say +‘Yes, sir,’ and then go right on giving your famous impersonation of +Clouter Hogan, or whatever his silly name is!” + +“My sainted Aunt Jerusha!” exclaimed Tom despairingly. “Haven’t I been +telling you that I’m mighty near worn out trying to remember to do like +Tusks says? I just can’t, that’s all! I get so balled up trying to +think what it is he wants that I can’t hit the ball, and then I forget +his way and swing like I’m used to swinging, and still I don’t hit it! +Heck, I’d――I’d do it if I could!” + +Mr. Cooper said, in his quiet way: “Kemble, if I were you I’d stop +thinking about it entirely, and when it came my turn to bat to-morrow +I’d just step up and do it.” + +“Huh?” ejaculated Tom. + +Mr. Cooper smiled. “The quickest way to do a thing is to――_do_ it. Try +it to-morrow.” + +Tom opened his mouth, closed it again, cast an inquiring glance at +Loring and relapsed into thoughtful, somewhat puzzled, silence. Loring +swung the conversation to another channel, and baseball was not +mentioned again that evening. During the quarter of an hour or so that +passed before the gong rang Tom was noticeably detached. + +The next afternoon, at the field, Wattles said: “Mr. Kemble certainly +hit it on the nose that time, didn’t he, sir?” Wattles was acquiring +quite a baseball vocabulary. Loring started and looked around. + +“What did you say about Tom?” he asked. + +Wattles repeated his observation with relish, adding: “I fancy you +didn’t see it, sir. He took quite the approved stance and gave the ball +a jolly crash, Mr. Loring.” + +“Probably you mean smash, Wattles. No, I didn’t see it, but I’m glad to +hear it. Do you mean that he stood up to the plate, like the others, +and didn’t crouch?” + +“Absolutely, sir. I was quite surprised!” + +Loring chuckled. “So I’d have been if I’d seen it. I was wondering +what’s happened to Mr. Cooper to-day. He has seemed so interested +in Tom’s try for second that I was sure he’d be out this afternoon. +Perhaps he thought it was going to rain. It did look like it awhile +back, but――――” + +Loring’s ruminative flow was abruptly checked. Slim Scott had knocked a +foul into the air, and the descending ball was making straight for the +wheelchair. There was a desperate ejaculation from Wattles, his stool +fell backward and there was a loud _smack_ as the sphere struck his +cupped hands and――marvel of marvels――stayed there! + +“Fine work!” exclaimed Loring gleefully. An audience of two score on +field and stand laughingly applauded, and Wattles, his long countenance +expressing mingled surprise and triumph, stepped forward and with a +sweep of his arm bowled the ball toward the pitcher. There was a sharp +exclamation of dismay from that youth as he sprang nimbly aside, and +the bounding missile sped on into the outfield. + +“Well bowled, sir!” shouted Tom from the bench, joyously. “Oh, very +well bowled, sir!” + +Wattles resumed his seat with dignity, resettled his disturbed derby, +wiped his hands with a handkerchief and tried very hard to look as if +nothing had happened. But he didn’t succeed, for the feat had left a +glow of exaltation on his countenance. He had faced the oft threatened +crisis, had met it, had won! There was, in fact, a new and strange +light in his eyes as he rubbed his tingling palms gently together, such +a light as may perhaps have shone in the eyes of Columbus as he first +sighted the shore of a new continent! + +“Gee,” said Loring enviously, “I wish I could have caught that, +Wattles! Say, I’ll bet it felt good, didn’t it?” + +Wattles cleared his throat. “Er――yes, sir, I think I may say that the +sensation was surprisingly agreeable.” + +After that whenever a ball was pitched to a batsman in front of the net +Wattles became tense and expectant. But although fouls were frequent +they usually struck the hood of the net and not again was Wattles +allowed to experience the agreeable sensation. + +When Tom made his second trip to the net Loring was sorrier than ever +that Mr. Cooper wasn’t on hand, for Tom behaved most remarkably. +Instead of standing away, with widespread feet, and crouching, he stood +straight, almost toeing the rubber. And instead of waving his bat +around continuously he kept it almost still. Doubtless Clouter Hearn +would have wept or gnashed his teeth had he been there to see! Having +disdainfully allowed the first offering to pass him, Tom met the next +one and hit it straight over second. A moment later he lifted a fly to +short left, and then, to complete a perfect exhibition, bunted nicely. + +Scarcely crediting his eyes, Loring shouted his delight so loudly that +even Tom, making his way back from the plate, heard and waved. “What +do you think of that?” Loring demanded of Wattles. “He hasn’t hit like +that all season! Wasn’t that corking, Wattles?” + +“Oh, quite, sir,” replied Wattles warmly. “He certainly poked out a +remarkably nice bingle, Mr. Loring.” + +There was great rejoicing amongst the Triumvirate that evening, and +Clif spoke for all when he said: “Gee, I wish Mr. Cooper was here +with us!” But Mr. Cooper didn’t appear and so didn’t hear Tom’s frank +acknowledgment of indebtedness to him. + +“You see,” he explained earnestly, “I got to thinking over what he said +last night; about the right way to do a thing being to _do_ it, you +know. Say, there’s a whole lot in that, fellows. He said a mouthful! +Well, I got to thinking about it, as I said before, and I just made up +my mind that I’d quit all the funny business, all the psychology stuff +and the ‘I-Will’ rot, and――” + +“Do you mean,” demanded Loring in pained tones, “that you didn’t――didn’t +have your mind on――” + +“You bet I didn’t,” answered Tom triumphantly. “I didn’t use my mind +at all. I didn’t think about anything! I just stepped out there and +walloped the old apple!” + +“But you must have subconsciously determined――” + +“I didn’t even think of the old subconscious,” declared Tom brutally. +“I tell you I kept clear of all that stuff. I――” + +“Hold on a minute,” laughed Clif. “Just awhile ago you said you ‘made +up your mind to quit all the funny business.’” + +“Huh?” said Tom blankly. “Well, but, hang it, that was last night! +To-day I didn’t make up my mind to anything! I didn’t have any mind! +That’s why I came across, I’m telling you.” + +But Loring was smiling again. “It’s perfectly simple,” he explained. +“You made up your mind last night what you were going to do to-day. So, +of course, you didn’t have to think any more about it this afternoon. +See what I mean? You’ve got your will power working so perfectly now +that it’s good for twenty-four hours, Tom!” + +“I have?” Tom looked startled at first, and then very proud. “Is that +how it was? Just like a clock, eh? I wind it up to-night and it runs +until to-morrow night? Say, that’s great! I always suspected I had a +grand little mind!” + +“Never mind your grand little mind,” said Clif. “What we want to know +is whether you can keep it up. Hitting the ball, I mean, and hitting it +the right way.” + +“Sure, I can! Heck, there’s no trick to it after you learn how.” + +“Still, I noticed you got only one hit off Sam Erlingby in three times +up.” + +“What of it? That hit was a humdinger, wasn’t it? Tyson didn’t get +within three feet of it! The other times Sam fooled me with a slow one +once when I was up, and then Tusks told me to bunt and Sam kept them +all low the next time. Heck, that’s no――no criticism!” + +“You mean criterion, I suppose,” said Clif, “but never mind. Just you +keep it up, Tom, and Stu Evans will have to whistle for his job. I +don’t care an awful lot for that chap, anyway. It was sort of hard +luck, his getting banged up like that, but he shouldn’t have been +joy-riding with Cox. Any one could see that Cox couldn’t drive a car! +You keep right on winding up the old will power every night, Tom, and +you’ll be a ball player yet!” + +“Is that _so_?” asked Tom with stinging sarcasm. + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + THE BATTLING FLIVVER + + +Tom roomed with Billy Desmond, a second class fellow. Billy was both a +football and crew man, this spring rowing at four on the School eight. +The baseball team played away from home on Saturday, meeting Peebles +School at Clear Lake, and after what had happened last week neither +Tom nor Clif was enthusiastic about going along. Still, they probably +would have gone if the crews hadn’t offered an attraction nearer home. +First and second eights were to do battle over the short course against +similar crews from Highland School, and, since Billy was to row in the +first boat, Tom proposed attending the races rather than the baseball +game. Clif was agreeable, but mentioned the fact dubiously that Double +Lake was nearly four miles away from the entrance of West Hall. + +“Heck, I’m not suggesting that we tramp it!” said Tom. “Far, far from +such, old scout. There’s a fellow in the village who’s got a beautiful +flivver, and I’m pretty sure I can get him to take us over and back for +a couple of dollars.” + +“You mean that chap who drives the ‘The Wreck of the Hesperus’?” +exclaimed Clif, outraged. + +“Sure. Why not? The thing goes all right, so what do you care how it +looks?” + +“We-ell, but you’re sure we can’t hook a ride with one of the crews. +Those busses hold――” + +“I know how many they hold, but there isn’t a chance. I asked Billy if +he couldn’t smuggle us aboard, and he said nothing doing. Say, if it’s +the dollar that’s worrying you, cheer up. I’m flush, boy!” + +“No, I’m not worrying about the dollar, I’m worrying about my +self-respect,” answered Clif. “All right, though. I’ll sacrifice even +that for you, Tom. Hold on, though! Say, I wonder if Loring would go.” + +“Loring? Gosh, I don’t believe so. Still, he might. That would mean +taking Wattles, too, though.” + +“Leave Wattles at home. As long as the car held together Loring would +be all right. Let’s ask him.” + +They did, and on Saturday afternoon “The Wreck of the Hesperus” rolled +away from West Hall amidst the loud cheers of a hastily assembled +audience. Wattles watched the departure with very evident disapproval +and anxiety. In his opinion “The Wreck” was not a seemly conveyance for +the son and heir of Mr. Sanford Deane to be observed in. And, besides, +the contraption appeared to be on the verge of dissolution. No anxiety +troubled the occupants of the ancient and dilapidated Ford, however, +as it fled down the driveway and lurched, with a convulsive shudder, +into Oak Street. The driver and owner, one Augustus Meggs, otherwise +Gussie, was employed at a local garage as a mechanic. Gussie was about +twenty, was long and angular, had a freckled face and remarkably +prominent ears and chewed gum as a life work. He was always willing +to tell how he had bought the car for eighty-two dollars three years +before and had “remodeled her, by crickey” with such odds and ends as +were to be found from time to time around the garage. Tom referred to +Gussie as the “Skipper” and conversed in nautical terms with him all +the way to the Lake. Gussie didn’t understand him much of the time, +and was fully aware that his employer was having fun with him, but he +didn’t mind. He had held out for three dollars and got it, and for +three dollars any one could make fun of Gussie as much as he pleased. +Secretly Gussie was of the opinion that the joke, if there was one, was +on the passengers! + +They made Double Lake without misadventure, the skipper of “The +Wreck” taking things sort of easy after it had been explained to him +that the boy who had been carried to the car was so brittle that he +would fall to pieces if bounced around too hard. In fact, the skipper +drove so cautiously that by the time the old Ford wheezed down to the +boathouse landing the junior crews were already up at the start. It +was a warm but blowy afternoon, and the blue waters of the lake were +tipped with whitecaps. About fifty Wyndham youths, congregated around +the boathouse, were cheering themselves red in the face, and after +finding Billy Desmond and assuring him of their support, Clif and Tom +returned to “The Wreck of the Hesperus” and bade the skipper warp his +craft closer to the cheering section. Its arrival there met with loud +acclaim, even the crews being for the moment forgotten by the cheerers. +Gussie received the applause modestly, found a fresh piece of gum in a +pocket of his flannel shirt and substituted it for the wad which had +done such good service on the trip out, placed a stone under one of the +back wheels――the brakes didn’t work very well, he explained――and joined +the crowd. And just then the report of a pistol half a mile distant +came faintly, and the cheering section broke into a confused medley of +incoherent entreaties: “Come on, Wyndham!... Row, you dumb-bells!... +Hooray! Hooray!... Hit it up! Hit it up!... Wyndham! Wyndham!... Come +on! Come o-o-o-on!” + +Wyndham was not looking for victory to-day. Until last year she had +always put four-oared crews on the water and had won her share of +triumphs. Last year, however, a generous graduate had given the school +two new eight-oared shells, thereby somewhat complicating Wyndham +rowing affairs. Horner Academy, the Dark Blue’s chief rival on the +water, was still sticking to fours, and it was therefore necessary +either to give up Horner that spring or to let the new shells lie on +the racks. Horner practically promised to have at least one eight-oared +crew ready for the following season, and so, partly for that reason +and partly because it would have looked like base ingratitude not to +use the gifts, Wyndham changed from fours to eights, muddled through +the early season without a race and finally entered her first crew in +a three-cornered event on the Housatonic River and finished third only +because there was no fourth entry. One of the Wyndham rooters declared +bitterly that, after the winning crew crossed the line, he ate three +hot dogs before the dark blue oars came into sight! Still later that +spring Highland, which had been boating eights for several years, came +down to Double Lake and inflicted a second defeat. But Wyndham rowed a +better race that day and made the opponent hustle to show a length and +a half of water at the finish. The Dark Blue had learned much since +then, but graduation had taken her best oarsmen, and to-day, in the +first boat, only Captain Badger, at stroke, and Billy Desmond remained +of those who had trailed Highland. As for the second crew, well, it was +hoped that a few of them would still be pulling when the shell reached +the finish――always supposing, that is, it ever did reach it! + +But the eight occupants of the second boat――nine if we include young +Carter, the cox――thought better of themselves than that. They seemed +to have an idea that if they kept on digging their blue-tipped sweeps +into the water long enough they could win the race. Of course, since +only half of them had ever rowed in a shell before, this was a most +astounding idea; so astounding that even Mr. McKnight, chemistry +instructor and assistant rowing coach, who had charge of them, stared +unbelievably from the launch when the two slim craft ahead passed the +half-way flag apparently even. “Lovey” passed a hand over his eyes and +looked again. There was no doubt about it, though; the stern of the +Wyndham boat was not a yard behind the stern of the Highland shell. Not +only that, but Wyndham was rowing as steadily as her rival, putting a +lot of power into a twenty-eight stroke! About that time Lovey McKnight +forgot his dignity, both the dignity befitting a faculty member and the +dignity becoming to a coach, and was heard by other occupants of the +Wyndham launch to babble wildly. + +Over on the shore, the group by the landing had broken up. Its members +were sprinting along the edge of the lake, waving whatever they could +find to wave, shouting at the top of their lungs. Not all of them, +though, for a handfull elected to see the finish from the landing, +and among these were Tom and Clif and, of necessity, Loring. They had +a clear view, but the angle kept them in uncertainty of the boats’ +relative positions. Once it seemed that Wyndham had put a half-length +between her and her rival, but a moment later they concluded that the +boats were still practically side by side. The distance was a mile +and a half, and at the mile flag both crews began to show the strain. +Wyndham was splashing a good deal, and Number 6 in the Highland boat +was rowing late and short. The Dark Blue hit up the stroke to thirty, +to thirty-four, and seemed to gain for a time, but the Blue-and-White +answered the challenge and eventually evened matters again. After that, +to the watchers by the landing, it was anybody’s race right to the +finish. They saw Wyndham pulling fast and hard and raggedly, Highland +desperately rowing a stroke of thirty-six or better. Saw the boats +shoot in front of the farther flag, saw the oars trail and tired forms +in each shell slump in their places, saw the following launches slow +and turn; and still they were in doubt. It was not until the Wyndham +launch had started back that Clif uttered a yell of triumph. + +“We won!” he shouted. “We won! Look at those fellows!” + +“Those fellows,” by which Clif meant the launch’s occupants, were, +indeed, acting very much as though pleased at the result. One or two, +Mr. McKnight and Weldon, manager and first class member, perhaps, were +behaving decorously enough, but there were at least six others there +and these latter were performing antics that threatened to take them +overboard! + +“My Sainted Aunt Jerusha!” howled Tom. “We sure did! We beat ’em, +Loring! What do you know about that? Are we the eel’s whiskers or +aren’t we? I’ll say we are! I’ll tell the world――” + +“Shut up!” some one begged. “They’re trying to tell us!” + +A blue megaphone was pointing their way from the bow of the approaching +launch. “Wyndham won,” came the hoarse bellow. “By about a third of a +length! A-a-ay!” + +“A-a-ay yourself!” yelled Tom. “Wait till you see what happens to ’em +in the next race!” + +But something happened before the next race, happened almost while Tom +was still shouting through his funneled hands. He and Clif and the +dozen or so others who had remained about the boathouse had clustered +either on the float or along the edge of the water to get the message +from the launch. Loring, in the back seat of the automobile, had been +left alone in his glory a matter of ten yards up the little grassed +slope. Perhaps in his delight over the victory he stirred himself +enough to jar the car, for there was a _snap_ as the emergency brake +released and a jolt as a rear wheel went over the inadequate stone +placed before it. It was then that Loring’s shout of alarm reached the +others. Perhaps it would be nearer the truth to say that it reached +Tom, for many voices were raised and through the babel Loring’s voice +carried no message to most of the group. But Tom heard, looked and +realized. The crazy vehicle was rolling slowly down the slope, heading +for the edge of the lake. With an able-bodied boy in it, Tom would +probably have remained where he was and laughed himself to death, for +the automobile, after pitching a bit over a few loose rocks near the +margin, would doubtless drop comfortably over the two-foot wall and +come to a stop with the water no higher than its floor-boards, and even +if its occupant had elected to stand by the ship no harm could come to +him. + +But it was a different story with Loring in the car, and Tom didn’t +stop to laugh. He made a flying leap from the float to the low wall, +hurling an inoffending youth head-over-heels in his flight, and charged +up the slope. “The Wreck of the Hesperus” had started what she may +have intended for her final voyage slowly and demurely, but with every +foot traversed she had gathered speed, and when Tom reached her she +was coming at a determined pace. He went up the slope with a yell +that brought every head around, and on the instant other feet pounded +behind his. But he couldn’t wait for help, and he knew it. Nor did he +dare to try to reach the brakes. All that he could do was charge into +the little car, head down and shoulders hunched, just as he might have +charged into an opposing lineman. There were no falderals on “The +Wreck,” no bumper to keep Tom from coming to close grips. He crouched +and met the radiator with his left shoulder, digging his shoes into the +sod. + +But even as light a car as “The Wreck,” when it has an occupant and has +made a fair start downgrade, is not to be stopped in any such manner. +Car and shoulder came together with a force that made every bolt and +rivet rattle and that hurled Tom a foot away and almost lost him his +footing. But he staggered back to the fray, charged again, putting +every ounce of strength and weight into the effort, and won a momentary +victory. The car didn’t stop, but it did pause for an instant before +pushing this strange obstacle before it again, and in that instant it +lost some of its headway. And before it could gather speed again Tom +had plenty of help. + +One oversanguine youth seized “The Wreck” by a mudguard and promptly +measured his length, the mudguard clattering about him. But others were +more practical. Several joined Tom at the front while another leaped to +the running board, slid into the car and applied brakes. “The Wreck” +protested, bucked and abandoned her contemplated suicide. Gussie, his +freckled countenance pale with emotion, swallowed his gum and came very +near to strangling during the succeeding confusion. Clif had been too +far distant to reach the car in time to be of use, but it was Clif who +planted the first stone――no mere inconsiderable pebble this time――under +a wheel and then jumped to the running board and anxiously faced a +white but smiling Loring. + +“Are you all right?” demanded Clif anxiously. + +Loring nodded. He could smile, but he wasn’t ready for conversation +yet. He pulled the discarded rug back over his knees first, and by that +time Gussie had recovered from his choking and the crowd was clustering +thick about the back seat, laughing, though rather nervously, and +plying Loring with questions. Tom was conscious of two things just +then. One was that his shoulder hurt horribly and the other was that +he wanted above all things to beat Gussie to a pulp. He showed a +fine determination to perform this feat, using one arm only, when +peace-makers interfered and the alarmed Gussie was rescued. One of the +fellows who claimed a knowledge of Fords started the car, and, with the +others ready to leap upon it and throttle it if it showed a continued +tendency to go into the lake, maneuvered it up the declivity and onto +level ground. Gussie had forgivingly offered his services, but Tom had +refused to trust him. By this time the launch had joined the waiting +Wyndham first crew and together they were going down to the starting +boats, and the episode of the runaway Ford was forgotten by the throng, +now enlarged by the return of many who had followed the first race +alongshore. + +“Guess we’d better go home,” said Tom, scowling blackly at Gussie. “You +must be all in, Loring.” + +“I’m not, really, Tom. And I want to see the other race. But perhaps +we’d better go so you can have your arm attended to. It must be awfully +bruised up.” + +“Heck, it doesn’t bother me. What do you say, Clif?” + +In the end they decided to wait for the final event, but a quarter of +an hour later they regretted not having gone when Tom proposed going, +for the Dark Blue’s first crew, after getting the better of the start, +was headed in the first quarter-mile by a smooth and powerful adversary +and rowed off her feet――if the phrase is allowable here――before the +mile was reached. After that, although Wyndham hung on doggedly, +Highland opened water with every stroke and finished almost ten lengths +ahead. “The Wreck of the Hesperus” returned to Freeburg at a slow and +mournful pace, the apologetic but unforgiven Gussie very low of spirit. +He had swallowed his last piece of gum. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + TOM PAYS A CALL + + +By general consent Wattles was not informed of the incident of the +suicidal Ford. It would, as Loring pointed out, only upset him to learn +of it. Loring tried very hard to thank Tom for his part in the affair, +but Tom refused to be thanked and ridiculed Loring’s efforts. “What’s +it all about?” demanded Tom. “What are you trying to do, josh me? Make +him be good, Clif, won’t you? I’m sensitive and get hurt feelings +awfully easy!” + +Tom’s hurt feelings were really in the shoulder which had borne the +brunt of “The Wreck’s” charge down the hill, and his left arm wasn’t of +any use to him at all the next day, and of very little use on Monday, +by which time it looked, according to Billy Desmond’s description, +like “one of those Italian sunsets painted by that――what’s his name, +now?――Turner!” During practice on Monday Tom lacked so much snap that, +to his alarm, Roe was sent to second in his stead when the scrub +played the first. Stuart Evans was out that afternoon, although not in +togs, and seemed rather pleased when Tom was relegated to the bench. +Across the diamond Loring and Wattles were occupying their usual +position beyond the first base stand. Loring had bought a score-book +and was learning the science of scoring. Cotter, one of the first team +managers, had brought him the batting orders and was now leaning over +the wheel chair, explaining something. Tom, watching rather moodily, +noted that Mr. Cooper was not to be seen and recalled the fact that +that gentleman had not been around for three days. Maybe he had taken +his departure from Freeburg. Well, Tom couldn’t blame him for that, +but, just the same, he’d be sort of sorry if he had. Of course he +wasn’t nutty about Mr. Cooper, like Loring, but he did sort of like the +old goof. Funny he wouldn’t have come around and said good-by first, +though. Well, folks were like that. Friendly enough when it pleased +’em, but―― + +Tom’s morose meditation was interrupted by Pringle, a not very +promising understudy for Slim Scott. Pringle moved up from further +along the bench and squeezed down beside Tom. “Say, did you hear about +Wattles, Tom?” he asked, grinning. + +“Wattles?” + +“Yes, Loring Deane’s man there.” Pringle nodded toward the other side +of the diamond. “Say, it was funny!” + +“It must have been,” said Tom dryly. “Or maybe it’s just the humorous +way you tell it.” + +“No, listen. Saturday Linton and Cox and I took a walk and went over +beyond town where the High School fellows play. Well, there was a +game going on and we stopped to watch it. It was just sort of a scrub +affair, you know. Some of the fellows who work in the stores. There was +the guy who clerks at the Inn and the red-headed chap from the drug +store――Burger’s, you know――and a dozen others. I guess High School was +playing away somewhere. Anyhow, these guys were having a great time, +most of them playing in their shirt-sleeves. I wish you could have seen +the fellow who was pitching! Honest, he was a scream. Well, presently +Lin says ‘Who’s the tall whatsthis playing out in left? Don’t he look +like that Wattles fellow?’ Well, sir, it _was_ Wattles! He――” + +“You’re crazy,” said Tom. “_Wattles!_” + +“Cross my heart, Tom! Why, we stayed there and watched, I tell you. He +had his coat and vest off, and, of course, that trick derby of his, and +just at first I wasn’t sure about him. He looks different without the +old bean-pot. But it was him――I mean he, all right. He had on a pair of +violet suspenders――” + +“Not Wattles,” corrected Tom gravely. “Wattles wears braces.” + +“Huh? Well, braces then. Ever see him with his vest off? Honest, Tom, +his trousers come almost to his shoulders in the back. Funniest looking +sight you ever saw! Well, we watched him awhile and it was good as +a circus. Every little while some guy would knock a ball his way and +Wattles would hold up his hands. Then he’d find out that the ball +wasn’t coming where he was, and he’d start to run, still holding his +hands out, mind you! Funny? Boy, it was a scream!” + +“Did he catch anything?” asked Tom, chuckling. + +“Well, yes, he did get one fly, and it wasn’t so rotten, either. But +generally he just ran around out there, always yards away from the old +pill when it lighted. He was so red in the face he looked like he was +going to bust. And he was so blamed solemn all the time! Like he was +performing――a――awhatyoucallit――rite!” + +“It’s a good story,” said Tom approvingly, “but of course you’re +lying, Pringle. Old Wattles would no more slip out of his coat and +chase around in his shirt-sleeves than――than――well, he just wouldn’t +do it, Pringle. Mind, I don’t say the fellow didn’t look like Wattles. +He probably did, although, at that, Wattles has a peculiar and quite +uncommon style of beauty――” + +“Chase yourself,” advised Pringle disgustedly. “It _was_ Wattles. If +you don’t believe me ask the others. There’s Cox right over there. +Think I don’t know what I see when I see it? Listen, Tom, honest it was +Wattles!” + +“Naughty boy,” admonished Tom, smiling. “Mustn’t tell fibs. Papa spank +terrifically.” + +“Aw, you make me sick,” said Pringle, getting up in disgust. “I don’t +care whether you believe it or not, you old piece of cheese!” + +Tom smiled at the other’s retreating form and then looked across the +diamond to where Wattles, the very picture of dignity, sat beside +Loring with a hand laid precisely on each knee and his back as straight +as a ramrod. “Oh, Wattles, how could you!” murmured Tom delightedly. +“If I’d only been there to cheer you on!” + +Of course Tom confided the news to Clif as soon as the game was over, +and after supper they hurried to Loring’s room to share the glad +tidings. Fortunately Wattles had gone off with Loring’s supper tray, +and, watching the door apprehensively, Tom related the yarn told by +Pringle. Loring’s eyes grew round and a wide smile spread over his +face as he listened. And finally: “It’s absolutely right!” he declared +ecstatically. + +“You mean you knew about it?” demanded Tom disappointedly. + +“No, but when Wattles came back Saturday afternoon, about an hour after +I did, he looked mighty funny. He looked――well, I don’t know just how +he looked, Tom, but sort of like the cat after he’d eaten the canary. +He had a lot of red in his cheeks and a kind of――of unholy gleam in his +eyes, and he was flustered. Got in his own way and fell over things and +was all fussed up about something. And every now and then I’d see him +doing this to one of his fingers; sort of working it around and pulling +at it, you know. I didn’t think much about it, but I did ask him if +he’d hurt his hand, and he acted sort of confused and said: ‘No, sir’ +first and then ‘Yes, sir,’ and finally said that he’d struck it against +something and kind of numbed it. But he didn’t supply any particulars. +Of course what did happen is that he hurt that finger trying to catch a +ball! What do you know about Wattles falling for the national pastime, +fellows?” + +“Shows he’s human,” said Clif. “I’d like to have seen him, though.” + +“I’d give a lot to see him,” sighed Tom. “I guess what started him was +catching that foul the other day. That and reading those ‘How to Play +Baseball’ books you’ve had around here.” + +“That was just it,” mused Loring, his eyes dancing. “Listen, Tom, do +you know what I think? Well, I think that Wattles has made up his mind +to be a Big League player! Honest I do. The other evening while he was +giving me my rub he said, ‘Mr. Loring, is it a fact that professional +baseball players receive immense salaries?’ I told him it was and asked +what he had on his mind, and it seemed that he’d been reading one of +those books over there and had come across something about one player +getting twenty thousand dollars a year, or some such figure. After +that he asked if baseball was something one had to learn in one’s +youth, and I told him it certainly was. He was very subdued after that. +I suspect I discouraged him. But maybe he’s got over it now and is +starting on his career!” + +“Well,” laughed Clif, “what I want to know is do we dare josh him. Fact +is, Loring, I find our friend Wattles a bit aweing, and I don’t suppose +I’d have the courage to――” + +“For the love of limes,” protested Tom, “don’t spoil it by letting him +know we’re on! If we make fun of him he’s sure to quit. Keep mum, I +say, and some day we’ll have a chance of seeing him in action. After +that I shan’t care what Fate hands me, fellows. I shall have had my +Great Moment.” + +“I guess Tom’s right,” said Loring to Clif. “I dare say Wattles is +getting quite a kick out of it, and it would be a low-down trick to +spoil his fun. He’s a good sort, old Wattles.” + +“None better,” agreed Tom feelingly. “Gentlemen, a toast! I give you +Wattles and His Majesty the King!” + +Loring laughed, but he said: “Wattles wouldn’t appreciate that joke, +Tom. He wants you to thoroughly understand that he’s an American. +He’s the only one I ever heard of who can recite the Declaration of +Independence and make you weep!” + +They discussed Mr. Cooper’s absence presently, Tom pessimistically +offering his theory to the effect that the entertaining gentleman +had gone his way. “He never did say why he was here or how long he +meant to stay,” said Tom. “I guess he got bored and beat it back to +civilization――or Timbuctoo.” + +“He wouldn’t go without saying good-by to us,” declared Loring firmly. +“Probably he’s just off for a few days. He’s bound to show up again.” + +“Well, if he doesn’t, what of it?” asked Tom. “He’s all right, but we’d +manage somehow without him, I guess.” + +“He may be sick or something,” suggested Clif. “How would it do to +’phone over to the Inn and find out if he’s still there?” + +“Oh, forget it,” said Tom. “You fellows take on about that guy as if he +was a long-lost uncle or something. What’s the idea? Heck, you don’t +even know who he is. For all you know he may be a bootlegger or a――a +confidence man!” + +“Oh, come on down, Tom! You know you like him just as well as Loring +and I do. If he’s a confidence man you’re Babe Ruth!” + +“Is that _so_? Well, let me tell you that I may not be batting as well +as Babe Ruth does just now, but I’m right after that guy. Yes, sir! And +the last picture I saw of him showed him looking mighty worried, too!” + +The subject of Mr. Cooper was not revived that evening, and the plan of +telephoning to the Inn was not pursued. But the next morning Tom made a +visit to the Inn. + +He didn’t start out for the Inn; or at least that is what he told +himself. Having an hour between classes, he decided to take a walk; and +what could be more natural than turning his steps toward the village +rather than toward the country? It was a partly cloudy morning, warm +and damp; there had been several days of just such weather. Spring was +in full command now and trees were leaved and meadows were green. Tom +didn’t walk very fast. It was the time of year, and the sort of day in +that time of year, when a fellow doesn’t hurry unless he has to. And +Tom didn’t have to. He was just out to get the air. He might go all the +way to the village or he might not. Perhaps he’d only go as far as the +Inn before turning back. + +When he had reached the Inn he told himself that, since he still had +forty-odd minutes to waste, just to prove to the others that he was +right about Mr. Cooper he would stop in and inquire at the desk. Of +course, way down deep somewhere Tom knew perfectly well that ever since +he had got out of bed that morning he had intended to go to the Inn and +discover what had become of Mr. Cooper, but it pleased him to pretend +that the call was unpremeditated. + +“Mr. Cooper?” asked the clerk. “Yes, sir, I think you’ll find him in +his room, Number 4. Do you know where it is?” + +“I can find it, I guess.” Tom turned toward the stairway and ascended. +The Inn held only half a dozen sleeping rooms and so Number 4 was not +far to seek. Outside the closed door, however, Tom hesitated. The fact +that Mr. Cooper was still in town and hadn’t been around to see them +for several days might very easily mean that he had tired of their +society, and in that case―― + +But having come thus far, Tom decided to go through with the business, +and knocked. There was an instant response and he went in. Mr. Cooper, +wearing a rather dingy dressing robe, was sitting by an open window, +and had evidently been reading. At sight of the visitor, however, +he dropped his book and got to his feet; not, it seemed, without an +effort. “Tom!” he exclaimed with such evident pleasure that the boy’s +suspicions fled on the instant. He came forward limpingly to rest his +one hand on the table and extend the other to the visitor. “Why,―― By +jove, this is awfully decent of you!” The pleasure expressed by voice, +look and hearty handclasp left Tom tongue-tied, vaguely embarrassed; +and the feeling of embarrassment was not decreased by the sudden +knowledge that he was sharing the other’s delight to a surprising +extent. Mr. Cooper pulled a chair forward and went back to his own seat. + +“Well, how are you?” he asked. “I haven’t seen any of you for a long +while. By the way, I hope you didn’t mind my calling you Tom. Surprise +rather got the better of formality.” + +Tom smiled and shook his head. “It’s all right with me, sir. I’m fine. +We all are, only we were wondering last night why――that is what had +become of you. You haven’t been ill, sir?” + +“Oh, no, it’s just this leg. It has a mean way of getting stiff in damp +weather. It’s better to-day, though, and I was expecting to get around +to watch practice this afternoon.” + +“Rheumatism, sir?” asked Tom. + +“I fancy so. Something of the sort. I got a piece of shrapnel in it +about seven years ago, and it’s been cranky ever since. Well, how is +the Triumvirate getting along? And how are you――er――hitting them?” + +Tom answered both questions fully, dwelling at some length on his +batting. “I followed your advice, Mr. Cooper,” he explained. “You know, +you said I wasn’t to think about what I was going to do, but just go +ahead and do it. Well, that’s what I did. I really think I’ve got +the knack of it now, and I’m sure hitting them, sir! You’ll see this +afternoon.” + +The visit lasted only a little more than half an hour, but in that +time Tom managed to do most of the talking, encouraged by his host, +and to confide a good deal of his private history. For instance, Mr. +Cooper learned that Tom’s mother was dead and that a certain Mr. +Winslow was his guardian; that Mr. Winslow was a “pill” in Tom’s +estimation and that as soon as the latter had finished school he was +going to get away; probably enter the Navy, although he might be an +explorer instead. “You see,” said Tom, “I like to move around and see +places. I mean I _would_ like to. I never have much, not since I can +remember. It must be great to travel around like you do, sir. Gosh, I’d +like that! India and China and Africa and everywhere!” Doubtless Mr. +Cooper inferred that Tom’s father, too, was dead. At least, Tom made +no mention of him. Returning to school, Tom’s pace was accelerated by +two things: a certain excitement generated by the recent conversation +and the fact that his next recitation was due in four minutes. Rather +oddly, it didn’t occur to him that he had been unusually confiding in +telling to an acquaintance of a few weeks things he had not revealed to +Clif until he had known that youth six months. It had seemed, somehow, +very easy, very natural to talk to Mr. Cooper. + +He didn’t speak to Clif or Loring of his call at the Inn, but Mr. +Cooper alluded to it that evening when, bearing somewhat heavily on his +cane, he paid his after supper visit to East Hall, and Tom was made to +feel the weight of his friends’ displeasure. But he didn’t seem to mind +it. He was in very good spirits to-night. + +Perhaps he had a right to be. For one thing, he had been promoted to +the first team. + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + INSIDE STUFF + + +The first hadn’t been getting along very well of late. It had lost to +Greenville, won from Cupples and then, last Saturday, had been again +defeated, at Clear Lake, by Peebles School. Peebles was not considered +strong, yet Wyndham had made but six scattered hits during the contest +and had failed to score a run. And Peebles had tallied thrice in the +early innings, off Moore, and had fairly walloped Jeff Ogden in the +eighth and added four more runs. The Wyndham infield had cracked wide +open in that fatal eighth. Coles had accumulated two errors and Tyson +and Leland one each. But it was in batting that Wyndham was showing up +weakest, and no amount of switching about of the players on the batting +order seemed to remedy the weakness. Perhaps Coach Connover took Tom +over to the first as a mere gesture of threat, thinking that Tom’s +presence on the bench might induce Wink Coles and Pat Tyson to greater +efforts, for Tom had been performing in very good style on the second +and it had occurred to others beside Steve that he might very well be +fitted into the first team’s infield. Tom’s batting was no longer a +joke, for he had recently been hitting hard and clean, and, having +found himself, might be expected to improve. Then, too, he had the +habit of getting to first even when he didn’t hit safely. In practice +games he was a thorn in the side of Sam Erlingby, working that twirler +for pass after pass even in the days when he was notoriously weak at +the bat. Once on first, Tom had speed and a certain daring that usually +carried him around. At fielding he had become easily the second’s star +sackman, covering a surprising amount of ground, trying for anything +and everything and, in the words of the disgruntled and deposed Evans, +“getting away with murder.” + +Tom joined the big team on Tuesday and replaced Coles for the last +three innings of a slow, poorly played contest with the second. On the +whole, he was disappointing that day, but he had an alibi in the fact +that he was in strange company. He did hit a single that accounted for +two runs for his side, however. On Wednesday he saw the Toll’s Academy +game from the bench. Wyndham experienced a good deal of difficulty in +losing that game, but she finally managed it in the ninth when, after +carrying it along from the fifth at 5 to 5, Sam Erlingby grooved a +ball to the Toll’s batsman with two out. Sam had two strikes and two +balls on the enemy, and he meant that fast one for a third strike. But +the batter laid against it hard and landed it beyond the center of the +gridiron and went to third. Even then the game might have gone to +extra innings, but Coles, who took the throw-in from Al Greene, thought +he saw a chance of nailing the runner at third and made a hurried peg. +Perhaps Tyson might have tried harder for that ball, but――well, anyway, +it went over his head and the Toll’s runner ambled home, and the score +was no longer tied. Steve sent in two pinch hitters in the last half, +but, although Risley poked out a two bagger and eventually reached +third on Greene’s out at first, nothing came of it. + +On Thursday Tom played second in practice and in the seven-inning game, +batting fifth in the list. If he had experienced diffidence on Tuesday +he was bravely over it to-day. To the surprise of his former teammates +he appeared not only self-possessed but even self-assured. Getting +into fast company seemed to be what he needed. He set a fast pace, and +even Hurry Leland was forced to hustle more than once to keep up with +him. The first won by a wide margin that afternoon, and while it would +be absurd to say that Tom’s presence accomplished the victory yet it +is certain that it contributed generously to that result. Tom was at +the starter’s end of two double plays, fielded his position without +an error, made a spectacular catch of a short fly well behind first +base and, when Greene and Tyson were on second and third with two out, +brought in two runs with a smashing hit through the box that Billy +Purdy knew enough to let well alone. On the whole Tom spent a busy, +pleasant and profitable afternoon; profitable because it won him beyond +the shadow of a doubt the right to the position of second base on the +first. + +“Now,” said Loring triumphantly that evening, “now I guess you’ll admit +that there’s something in will power!” + +“Well, maybe,” answered Tom cautiously. “But tell me this. You knew +mighty well that Clif’s a better willer than I am. How come, then, that +I made the first and he didn’t? Run that down!” + +“Easy,” said Loring. “You started with an advantage. Clif hasn’t played +as much as you have; before this spring I mean. He probably won’t make +the first for another week. Maybe two.” + +Mr. Cooper chuckled and Clif laughed loudly. “You mean two years,” said +the latter. “I’ve got as much chance――” + +“Hold on!” warned Loring. “That’s the wrong thought, Clif. Just +remember this. When we started this――this campaign neither you nor Tom +had much idea of even making the second. Now Tom’s gone up to the first +and you’ve licked Burke for center fielder. There’s three weeks yet, +and if we all carry on and concentrate hard――” + +“And play hard,” interpolated Mr. Cooper quietly. + +“Yes, and play hard, there’s no telling what may happen. Mr. Connover +still needs fellows on his team who can make hits, Clif, and if you +keep on swatting the way you have been, and we all put our thoughts on +it, I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Connover took you over, too.” + +Clif stared incredulously. “You’re nutty, Loring,” he sighed. “It’s a +shame, too, for you gave promise of becoming a brilliant guy some day. +I guess you’re one of those――those monomaniacs you read about.” + +“Seems to me,” observed Tom, “you and Steve are getting sort of thick, +Loring. It looked this afternoon as if you were telling him how to run +the team.” + +“Not exactly,” laughed Loring, “but we were having a rather hot +argument.” + +“For Pete’s sake! What about?” + +“Oh, I don’t mean a violent argument. Perhaps discussion would be +better. You remember when first had Raiford on third and Talbott on +second with two out in the fourth inning? The second team infield +played back to get the runner at first base. Well, Mr. Connover told +Cobham to hit it out. His thought was, of course, that if Cob hit +safely those two runs would come across. What Cob did do was fly out +to Slim Scott about ten feet back of the base path. I wanted to get at +Mr. Connover’s reasoning and so I asked him. He told me that Cob was +ordinarily a long hitter, when he did hit, and that as those two runs +were badly needed he thought the best play was to let Cob soak the +ball.” + +“And why wasn’t it?” asked Clif. “Cob has got some long hits off Purdy +before to-day.” + +“Perhaps it was,” answered Loring. “But it didn’t seem so to me. That’s +what led to the discussion.” + +“You think Cob should have bunted, eh?” asked Tom. + +“Yes, because the infielders were playing too far back to handle a bunt +to first base in time. Cob’s a left-handed batter. If he had laid a +bunt down the first base line Raiford would have scored, Talbott would +have reached third and Cob would have been safe.” + +“And there’d have been one run in instead of two,” objected Tom. + +“But still only two down. Cob could have stolen second on the first +pitch, and the situation would have been just as it was before, except +that the infield might have played short, expecting the next man would +also bunt, and in that case any sort of a hit past the infield would +have scored again. What really happened――” + +“Sure. Cob flied out because he picked a bad one,” said Tom. “But if he +had hit safe――” + +“Oh, I know it all depends on the ‘ifs,’” laughed Loring, “but I still +think the situation called for a bunt.” + +“Well, but Billy wasn’t pitching high ones, maybe, and not one fellow +in twenty can bunt a low delivery.” + +“But Billy _was_ pitching high ones,” said Loring. “He was putting them +over the corners, or trying to, just under Cob’s arms. He wanted Cob to +hit the ball on the ground.” + +“But,” asked Tom, “how the dickens was Steve to know beforehand that +Billy would pitch ’em high?” + +“Perhaps he couldn’t have known, but he might have guessed that Billy +wouldn’t feed low ones, because Cob likes that kind and might easily +have sent a long fly into the outfield where it couldn’t have been +handled. If I’d been Cobham I’d have done this, Tom. I’d have waited +for a couple of deliveries to see what the pitcher had on his mind. +Then if he was offering high ones I’d have bunted, or tried to. If I +saw he wasn’t going to let me bunt I’d have faked a bunt in hopes that +the infield would come in at least halfway. If it did I’d have tried to +drop a hit just behind it.” + +“Help!” exclaimed Tom. “The old bean’s getting groggy, son! Say, +where’d you get all this inside stuff? Not just reading those books?” + +“Well, I suppose I’ve got some of my theories from the books and +some from watching play. Probably I’m cheeky to put out such a line, +considering I’ve never played. It’s a wonder Coach didn’t tell me to +shut up, but he didn’t. He argued it out just as though I had some +sense. He was mighty decent.” + +“Well,” asked Mr. Cooper interestedly, “how was it decided?” + +“It wasn’t,” laughed Loring. “Six rounds, no decision.” + +“At that,” said Tom reflectively, “I think you were right, old son. +Cob’s a pretty good bunter. Of course, the bunt might have gone foul or +been too hard or――” + +“Or Cob might have stubbed his toe,” interrupted Clif. “You don’t +either of you know what you’re talking about. I’m for Loring keeping +out of it and letting Steve run his gang the way he thinks best so we +can continue to beat you fellows, Tom, two or three times a week, for +the good of your souls.” + +The first went to Wessex two days later and played Broadmoor, and while +they were once more defeated, they won honor nevertheless. The final +score, reached in the twelfth inning, was 9 to 8. Good pitching by both +sides, clean fielding and bunched hits were the rule, and Wyndham’s +final overthrow was entirely a one-man result. + +A pass in the last half of the twelfth put a Broadmoor runner on first. +A strike-out followed and then Cobham’s throw to Captain Leland, +covering second, was just wide enough to allow the runner to slide +into the bag. The incident perhaps unsteadied Ogden, for he slid his +next offering along the groove and it found the bat in front of it. +The ball went toward center field and fell in No Man’s Land. Al Greene +ran in and Tom ran out, and the ball landed between them, a half-dozen +strides from Al. The runner, chancing a double play for the sake of +a winning tally, had sped away from second while the ball was still +in air, and when Greene scooped the ball from the ground was already +rounding third. Al performed a bit of quick reasoning then that cost +his team the game. He decided that the runner was bluffing and had no +real intention of going on to the plate. If so a fast throw to third +might catch him before he could double back. So Al threw to Tyson. It +was a good heave and reached Pat on a straight, fast bound, and had the +runner meant to play safe and wait on third for a hit to get home on +he might have been tagged out. But by the time Tyson had the ball in +his hands the runner, who had not even hesitated at the corner sack, +was hitting the home-stretch. Pat’s peg was a bit high, and by the time +Cobham had caught, taken one stride and swept his hand down the runner +was scraping a dusty shoe across the rubber and Broadmoor was shouting +jubilantly. + +Disappointment lasted but a short time, however, for, all in all, +Wyndham had played a better game from every angle than she had played +all season. Manager Longwell exhibited the score book, and that told +the tale. Al Greene was disconsolate for a space, but found comfort +in the fact that the error column held no figures opposite his name. +Fortunately, perhaps, errors of judgment do not find their way into the +box scores. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + WATTLES IS CARELESS + + +The Broadmoor game brought the first week of June to an end. Extremely +warm weather held New England, and warm weather, as usual, produced +a let-up of scholastic ambition in many cases. Tom, for one, found +studying more difficult than ever, and for the third time that +year received a grave warning from Mr. Wyatt, the English teacher. +Remembering only too well what had occurred on one previous occasion, +Tom braced up for several days and, with many protests and groans, +labored back into Alick’s good graces. But it required the assistance +and encouragement of Clif and Loring to get him there, and it was the +Triumvirate rather than Tom who succeeded. With final examinations +impending, it was no time, as Loring pointed out, to get penalized. + +Loring was getting a great deal of enjoyment out of life those days. +That discussion with Coach Connover had led to others. Steve, although +he was perhaps never swayed by Loring’s views, seemed to find the +boy’s theories and judgments interesting. It was at his suggestion +that Loring’s chair was rolled to the end of the players’ bench of an +afternoon, and frequently the coach slipped into the seat beside him +and conversed. He was genuinely surprised when Loring confessed to +having witnessed but four baseball games previous to this spring and +to having obtained what knowledge of the game he possessed from the +perusal of every book on the subject that he had been able to lay hands +on and from watching the practice. In defense Loring said one day: + +“Of course, Mr. Connover, I understand that I don’t really know much +about the game. A fellow can’t, I guess, unless he plays it. All I’ve +got is a lot of theoretical stuff. It――it’s mighty good of you not to +laugh at me, sir.” + +“Laugh at you? Nonsense, Deane. What you call theoretical stuff is +perfectly sound, and I find it remarkable that you have absorbed so +much of it without――how shall I put it?――without more incentive. Here +you are, physically barred from playing, with a full knowledge of +baseball, and all around us are fellows actually engaged in playing +who don’t know the rules of the game, to say nothing of the strategy. +No, you don’t owe any one an apology for being able to talk baseball +intelligently, Deane, and if I don’t always agree with you it isn’t +because your theories are wrong but because no theory――no baseball +theory, at least――is always applicable in practice. A certain situation +may call for one procedure to-day and a different procedure to-morrow, +and that is largely because theories do not take into consideration +the personal equation. I am not, of course, speaking now of the few +hard and fast――er――tenets of the game; laws firmly established by +experience; but of the more hypothetical theories that we call ‘inside +stuff.’ Given a certain situation, Deane, the coach or the captain +has to measure the book theory against all sorts of conditions; the +opposing team’s reactions to certain moves, the abilities of his own +players to perform those moves, many things. A play that might succeed +in the early innings would fail in the later for any one of a number +of reasons. Even weather is a factor, and as for psychology――” Steve +sighed――“once a coach starts on psychology he’s lost!” + +“I’m afraid I don’t understand that,” said Loring. + +“Well, what I meant is that it’s so plaguy easy to overdo that part of +it, Deane, so easy to let psychology take the place of common sense. +Besides, what does any one know about it, after all? As a practical +aid to winning ball games it’s been a good deal overrated, I think. +Baseball writers like to use the phrase ‘the psychology of the game,’ +but more than likely what they call a psychological manifestation――or +whatever they _do_ call it――if tracked down will resolve into some such +chance happening as a ball hitting a pebble and bounding wrong or a +pitcher having a twinge in his elbow as he lets the ball go. All the +psychology in the world won’t win a ball game, Deane, or lose one; not +unless we call psychology by a shorter name.” + +“You mean――luck, sir?” + +“Chance,” said Mr. Connover. “Chance, the finest baseball and football +general in the histories of the games!” + +Wattles, seated slightly behind the wheel chair, listened in rapt +attention to the talks and discussions. There were times during a +debate on the proper play with which to meet a situation when Wattles +allowed himself a slight compression of the lips or a faintly eloquent +elevation of the eyebrows. Occasionally Wattles might express agreement +of a hearty character by placing an immaculate handkerchief to his +nose and trumpeting loudly. But he knew his place, did Wattles, and no +matter how vehemently he might agree or disagree with the contentions +of either the coach or Loring he kept his mouth tight. Perhaps it was +not easy, either, for Wattles, too, had delved into baseball lore, +reading word for word with Loring, and had formed opinions. Then, too, +Wattles had one advantage over Loring. Wattles had played the game! + +He had never mentioned that lapse from dignity, nor had Loring ever +questioned. Wattles had had more than thirty minutes of thrills that +Saturday afternoon when, jokingly invited by the boy who clerked in +Burger’s drug store, he had cast discretion to the winds, removed part +of his apparel and chased about over a dusty field in pursuit of an +elusive ball. Afterwards he had regretted the affair. Or had he? He +was never quite certain as to that. Certain it was, however, that the +memory of those wild moments still brought a glow; and certain it was, +although Wattles sternly refused to acknowledge it, that if a like +opportunity occurred again he would once more forget his dignity and +his derby! + +The first team was now down to seventeen members, its roster +including Ogden, Moore, Erlingby and Frost, pitchers; Cobham and +Risley, catchers; Van Dyke, Kemble, Tyson, Leland, Coles and Jackson, +infielders; Raiford, Greene, Talbott, Pierce and Lester, outfielders. +Two or three players who had survived the middle of the season had gone +to the second, displacing others or, after a brief test, retiring to +private life. The second kept sixteen men. On the Saturday afternoon +that the first had journeyed away to play Broadmoor the second had met +Freeburg High School in the first contest of its three game schedule +with outside teams and had met with a sound drubbing. The second was +woefully weak in its pitching department, and the opponent had batted +Purdy from the mound in the fourth inning and treated his successor no +more kindly. The only thing that prevented Coach Wadleigh from putting +in a third twirler in the seventh was the fact that there wasn’t any +third. Clif had a busy afternoon, running after balls until he quite +lost his breath in the seventh inning. He had six chances during the +engagement and accepted them all. If he could have done as well at bat +he would have completed a very satisfactory day’s work, but he didn’t +have much luck against the High School pitcher, getting but one hit, +a two-bagger. The other three times at the plate he struck out. Some +of his companions saw nothing deceptive in the pitcher’s offerings and +found them frequently, but he remained an enigma to Clif all through +the game except in the third when the latter managed to connect with a +fast one. Freeburg won in the end by the lop-sided score of 11 to 4. + +During practice these days Clif was utterly deserted by his fellow +members of the Triumvirate, for Tom had long since departed to the +other diamond and now Loring, facetiously termed by Clif the Advisory +Council, spent his afternoons hobnobbing with Coach Connover. Even Mr. +Cooper’s lean brown face was no longer to be seen above the rail of +the first base stand, for he, too, had found the attractions of the +big team superior. Or perhaps it was his interest in Tom which caused +him to desert his old friends, for there was no blinking the fact that +he and Tom were getting to be as thick as thieves. Clif resented that +a little. It really didn’t make a bit of difference in the relations +between Tom and him, for the companionship Mr. Cooper offered was that +of an older person and didn’t in the least endanger Tom’s regard for +Clif, but the latter couldn’t help feeling a trifle jealous at times. +Why, it had got so of late that Tom went over to the Inn three or four +mornings a week! Clif didn’t like Mr. Cooper any the less, however; +indeed, those pangs of resentment were neither frequent nor profound, +and he did his best to discourage them. Bit by bit they were learning +more of Mr. Cooper. They knew now that he had served in the English +Army during the War, had been invalided twice, once for wounds and once +for gassing, and had been discharged with the rank of lieutenant. This +information came from Tom and was the result of his visits to the Inn. +Tom declared, also, that he was plumb certain Mr. Cooper had all sorts +of decorations, although he had neither heard of nor seen any of them. +As an indication of how the gentleman stood with Loring and Clif, it +may be mentioned that neither of them doubted for a moment that Tom was +correct in his surmise. + +Mr. Cooper had made other friends and acquaintances beside the members +of the Triumvirate and had become a familiar figure about the school. +Mr. Clendennin, head of the Junior School, and “Lovey” McKnight, who +was the chemistry instructor and, incidentally, Clif’s advisor, were +among Mr. Cooper’s growing circle of intimates, while, to the surprise +of the Triumvirate, he was discovered by them one evening at supper +with Doctor Wyatt. That in itself was not so astounding, since “J. W.” +frequently acted as host to school visitors, but the fact that Mr. +Cooper had made no mention of the incident to them and went through +with it so casually perplexed the boys. Later, apprised by Tom that he +had been seen in dining hall, he merely said: “Oh, really? I thought +the food remarkably good.” + +Curiosity prompted Clif to seek information of Mr. McKnight one +evening, and so, after the instructor’s opinion had been obtained on +a matter regarding the approaching examinations, Clif introduced the +subject of Mr. Cooper. “You know, sir, we like him a lot,” said Clif. +“It’s funny, but he doesn’t seem much older than we are. I mean he +isn’t――isn’t stodgy a bit; doesn’t try to make a chap realize that he’s +just a kid and doesn’t know much of anything. You know, some men _are_ +like that!” + +The last sentence was added defensively in response to Lovey’s smile. + +“Yes, I guess they are,” Lovey agreed. “And I can easily see that +Cooper wouldn’t be. I found him very interesting and likable, too, +Clif.” + +“Yes, sir.” Clif hesitated. “He didn’t tell you―― I mean, you don’t +happen to know why he’s here, sir?” + +“Here? In Freeburg? Why, no, he didn’t say. And I didn’t ask him. In +fact, it didn’t occur to me, Clif. But why shouldn’t he be here?” + +“I suppose there isn’t any reason why he shouldn’t,” laughed Clif, +“only it seems sort of a dead place to _live_ in. I mean to say, if you +hadn’t some _reason_ for doing it, sir, you wouldn’t hit on this place +as a――a residence, now would you?” + +“I wouldn’t,” agreed the instructor, “but another man might. I could +imagine a chap who was looking for the quiet life in an attractive +village being quite satisfied with Freeburg. The Inn isn’t so bad, +Clif, and you’ve got to own that this part of the country is mighty +pretty in spring. Perhaps Mr. Cooper is doing some writing or――well, +reading. I understand there are still a few in this country who +sometimes read.” + +“I don’t think it’s that, though,” pondered Clif. “Tom goes to see him +pretty often, sir, and he says Mr. Cooper hasn’t many books in his +room. Awhile ago he borrowed one from Loring Deane, a book on baseball.” + +“Well, he will doubtless tell us if he wants us to know, Clif. After +all,” he added with a twinkle, “it’s rather more his affair than ours.” + +“Yes, of course,” Clif flushed slightly. “I guess you think I’m sort of +cheeky, sir, but――” + +“No,” Mr. McKnight laughed, “I just think that you’re a whole lot like +the rest of us, Clif; that is, extremely curious about things that +don’t really concern us. That is a lamentable feature, old chap, of our +national character.” + +So Clif departed better informed on the national character, but with +no new information regarding Mr. Cooper. + +Yet new information was forthcoming. From Mr. McKnight’s study in West +Hall Clif made his way, through the dim corridor of Middle, to East +and down the stairs to Loring’s room on the first floor. Mr. Cooper, +Tom, Loring and Wattles were on hand when he entered in the middle of a +debate on Wyndham’s chance to win from Horner Academy in the boat races +to be held a few days later. Wattles, of course, was not taking part +in the discussion, being busy in a corner of the room with a bottle of +odorless cleanser and a couple of dozen of Loring’s neckties, but he +looked as if ready to supply an opinion if it was asked for. Wattles in +the past eight months had become an ardent Wyndhamian and was firmly +convinced that the Dark Blue could whip anything on land or water; or, +discounting the future, in the air, for that matter! + +This was an election year, and the newspapers were giving much space to +the impending national conventions. Loring was greatly interested in +politics, a subject which bored Tom supremely, and after the boat races +had been exhausted Loring asked: “Who are you going to vote for for +President, Mr. Cooper?” + +Mr. Cooper smiled a little. “I can tell you which of the candidates I +fancy I’d vote for if I were going to vote,” he replied. + +“If you were going―― But do you mean that you aren’t, sir?” Loring +sounded outraged. “Why, don’t you think that every citizen――” + +“Absolutely, Loring! But, you see, I’m not a citizen.” + +“How do you mean, sir?” asked Tom. + +“I mean that I’m not an American citizen. I thought you chaps knew.” + +“Why, no, sir!” exclaimed Tom. “I thought of course you were. Heck, +that’s a blow! May I ask why you aren’t? I mean, what――” + +Mr. Cooper chuckled. “I was born in Derbyshire, England, Tom. And +although I’ve lived over here a good part of my life, and in other +countries another good part, I’m still a subject of His Majesty King +George.” + +There was a suppressed exclamation from Wattles in the corner of the +room, followed by the thud of the bottle of cleansing fluid against the +carpet and the _glug-glug_ of its wasting contents. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + A DOUBLE DEFEAT + + +Highland School was defeated, 6 to 4, at Highland, on Wednesday, in a +loosely played game in which errors on both sides accounted for most +of the tallies. Frost was in the box for Wyndham and might have stayed +through the whole contest had he had good backing. As it was, miscues +in the sixth inning let in three Highland runs, and Frosty got wobbly +and was relieved by Erlingby. Tom helped pile up the Dark Blue’s total +of three errors, contributing an unfortunate fumble which, like most +of his errors, was due to over-eagerness. Highland got no more tallies +after Erlingby’s arrival on the mound, and, in the eighth, Wyndham +combined a hit, a sacrifice and a stolen base with a Highland error and +put two more runs across, bringing the score to 6 to 4, at which it +remained. Catcher Cobham emerged from the battle with a split finger on +his throwing hand, an injury destined to keep him out of baseball for +nearly two weeks. Gus Risley, who had taken Cob’s place in the seventh +inning, was a far less dependable backstop although a distinct addition +to the batting strength of the team. + +On Saturday Horner Academy came over from across the New York border to +prove her superiority in both rowing and baseball. The enemy’s colors +were so much in evidence that forenoon that Freeburg took on a most +festive appearance. Every one who could went over to the lake shortly +after noon and witnessed the visitor capture the lion’s share of the +water contest. Loring’s father and mother arrived in the car, and he +and Wattles and one of the Junior School boys motored over. Mr. Bingham +also came up that morning, unexpectedly, and filled his car with Clif, +Walter Treat and three others. Tom couldn’t go, for the first team +players were to have an hour’s practice before the game. + +The junior eight’s contest was held first, and once more the second +crew showed their gameness. In spite of their showing against Highland, +they were not looked on as winners to-day, and so it was a distinct +surprise when the dark blue oars flashed into the lead at the start, +held the lead to the quarter flag, lost it just beyond, though by no +more than a few yards, and recovered it before the half-way marker. +That was a pretty race all the way, for, while Wyndham was never +headed, Horner rowed desperately and was no more than a boat’s length +behind when the final quarter began. For a space a gallant rally +carried her to almost even terms, but Wyndham also hit up her stroke +and maintained it to the line, something Horner was incapable of, and +shot across, to the shrieks of her adherents, not quite two lengths +ahead. + +Wyndham accepted that result as a good augury for the big event, but +the latter, which started at two-thirty, proved a reversal of fortune. +It was Horner who got away to a fine start this time and Wyndham +who trailed all the way to the finish. Billy Desmond and his seven +companions in the Dark Blue’s shell rowed themselves out before the +distance was three-fourths covered, went on heroically but raggedly and +fairly collapsed with the coxswain’s shout of “Let her run!” Horner had +showed a generous six lengths of water behind her boat at the finish. + +Wyndham had to be satisfied with the minor victory of the junior eight +as she hustled back to school for the ball game. Mr. Cooper joined Clif +and his father and Walter Treat and the quartet witnessed this contest +from seats behind third base. Mr. Cooper and Mr. Bingham, it must be +acknowledged, failed to manifest unflagging interest. They seemed to +find a number of subjects more interesting than baseball, and there +were moments when Clif was rather impatient with his father because the +latter allowed his attention to wander. Walter was a nice chap, and +Clif liked him a lot, but Walter was no baseball fan and displayed at +times the crassest ignorance. + +The game was well played and almost every inning supplied a thrill, +but after the fourth frame only the most optimistic of Wyndham rooters +dared predict a victory for the home team. The Wyndham infield was +playing together like a well-oiled machine, Jeff Ogden was holding the +visitors to a few scattered hits and Fortune remained impartial. But +while Horner had failed during four innings to get a man as far as +third base, Wyndham had failed to get one to first! It was plain enough +to be seen that Horner’s aggressive batters were destined to come into +their own ultimately, and when that happened the boy at the score board +was going to stop hanging up goose eggs! + +It happened in the first half of the fifth inning. The Horner +shortstop, second man on the list, hit safely past Captain Leland and +went to second on a sacrifice out, Tom to Van Dyke. The visitor’s third +baseman fell on one of Ogden’s curves and poled out a two-bagger into +left field, scoring the first run of the game. Hurry handled the next +out, an easy grounder, throwing to first. A sharp liner through the +box scored the second tally. On an attempted steal the last hitter was +pegged out at second by Risley. + +For Wyndham, Raiford fouled out to third baseman, Tom flied out to +first and Talbott fanned. There was no more scoring until the eighth. +Then Horner sent her third tally over the plate on a hit, a sacrifice +and a long fly-out to left fielder. Yet every inning between had seen +men on bases and runs apparently imminent. Even Wyndham revived the +hopes of her supporters in the seventh by getting Tyson as far as third +on a scratch hit, a sacrifice bunt by Captain Leland and an out. Risley +went to bat amidst loud acclaim. Clif, red-faced from recent vocal +exertions, begged Gus to “make it a homer!” But the best the substitute +catcher could do was arch a tremendously long fly into the outfield +where, having been warned of Risley’s batting prowess, the Horner +center fielder was playing well back toward the running track and had +only to step a few yards to his left to make the catch. + +Horner failed to threaten in the first half of the ninth, and Wyndham +went to bat with the Blue’s adherents imploring a victory. But although +Tom started things going, after Raiford had fouled out, with a hot +liner through shortstop’s legs and got to second when Talbott hit along +the base path and was safe when the baseman juggled the hurried throw, +nothing came of the rally. Van Dyke struck out, and Jackson, batting +for Jeff Ogden, lifted a high fly to shortstop, and the game was over, +the score 3 to 0. + +Wyndham had played an errorless game, had made five hits and had been +defeated. Horner had made two errors, batted safely ten times and had +won. From which it was fairly adjudged by a somewhat indignant student +body that what the home team needed were a few fellows who could hit +the pellet! That was also the decision arrived at that evening when Mr. +Bingham and Mr. Cooper played hosts to the Triumvirate at the Inn. Tom, +who had made one of the Wyndham hits, attempted a rather vague excuse +for the first team but was squelched by Clif and Loring. He finally +confessed that something ought to be done, adding brightly: “We might +put our thoughts on ’em, Loring. Maybe we could will a bunch of bingles +the next time, eh? What price psychology?” + +Clif begged him not to be a giddy ass. + +“I don’t suppose,” acknowledged Loring, “that it’s quite practical to +work mental suggestion on a whole baseball team but we might pick out a +few of the worst batters and try it on them.” + +The idea seemed to amuse Mr. Bingham immensely, and he chuckled and +chuckled over it, the glowing end of his cigar waggling up and down +in the darkness of the porch. Clif said, almost accusingly: “I don’t +see that psychology has done me a whole lot of good. I’m still on the +scrub!” + +“But,” responded Tom gently, “think where you’d be without it! Playing +with the West Hall Terriers, probably.” + +“I didn’t know that you were keen about promotion,” said Mr. Bingham. +“Thought you were doing pretty well where you are and quite satisfied, +son.” + +“Oh, well,” said Clif, “I’d rather make the first, of course. Any +fellow would, I guess. Besides, if Tom gets on I don’t see why I can’t. +Every one knows I’m far superior to him.” + +“My Sainted Aunt Jerusha!” breathed Tom in awe. “Hear that boy talk! +Mr. Bingham, I used to be known as ‘the King of the Diamond’ when Clif +was in rompers!” + +“Let’s see,” chuckled Mr. Bingham, “what’s the difference in your ages, +Tom?” + +“More than five months,” replied Tom impressively. + +“In whose favor?” asked Mr. Cooper innocently, and brought a laugh. + +“Anyway,” said Tom, returning to gravity, “our gang’s got to learn to +hit better than it’s been hitting before next Saturday or we’ll be gone +coons. Wolcott’s been swatting the old apple hard all the season. Look +what she did a week ago Saturday. Got fourteen hits off that Goodwin +pitcher, what’shisname!” + +“Deering,” said Loring. “But he’s nothing much.” + +“Just the same, we couldn’t hit him when we played there during +vacation. Well, maybe our fellows did touch him up a bit, but we didn’t +get anything like fourteen off him, and we lost the game.” + +“You play Wolcott next Saturday?” asked Mr. Bingham. “Does Wolcott come +here, or――” + +“Yes, sir,” answered Clif. “That’s the first game. We go to +Cotterville Tuesday for the second and then play here again Wednesday +in case of a tie.” + +“There won’t be any game next Wednesday,” declared Tom pessimistically. +“If we can’t hit a poor fish like that fellow who pitched against us +to-day we certainly can’t touch that left-hander of theirs, Osterman; +or Rice either. Those guys are _good_! And I guess that fast ball +artist of theirs isn’t much worse.” + +“I don’t believe that Osterman is a bit better than Jeff Ogden,” +said Loring stoutly. “And here’s another thing, Tom. We’ve got three +left-hand pitchers to Wolcott’s two.” + +“What of it? They’ve got a second-string outfield of left-hand batters!” + +“Where do you get all this dope?” asked Clif. + +“I read the papers, son. Wolcott had five out of nine fellows in her +batting-list hitting left-handed a couple of weeks ago against Brown +Prep. Brown put in a left-hand twirler, and Wolcott switched half her +gang and punched out enough hits to win. I call that strategy, what?” + +“Gosh,” said Clif, “the trouble with our team is that there aren’t five +on it who can hit right-handed, to say nothing of left! Just the same, +I’ll bet we cop the first game anyway, and if we lose the second we’ve +still got a chance in the third; and playing on your own field, with a +lot of fellows cheering you and every one pulling your way, is bound to +help.” + +“Sure, and we’re going to need that help,” said Tom grimly. “I wish +Steve would change the batting order and see how it would go. Greene +isn’t any good as a lead-off man. Hurry would be a lot better. If the +first fellow up doesn’t draw his base one way or another, what good +is he? And Al Greene’s got his base when he’s led off just about once +since I joined the team.” + +“I’d like to see Coach try you there,” observed Loring. + +“Me?” Tom sounded a trifle startled. “Well, at that I’ll bet I’d get my +base oftener than Greene does. I may not be any――any――” + +“Clouter Hearn,” offered Clif. + +“Shut up! What I mean is, I――I――well, call it luck if you like――” + +“What else could it be?” chuckled Clif. + +Tom aimed a kick at him, missed by inches and subsided. + +“Well,” declared Loring with conviction, “you chaps are going to see a +big improvement in our team’s hitting next Saturday. You may depend on +that.” + +“Is that _so_?” inquired Tom. “You and Steve have got it all settled, +eh? I suppose Miller Huggins is going to loan us Babe Ruth for the +afternoon!” + +“Maybe, but I haven’t heard of it. No, what I mean is just this, Tom. +There isn’t a fellow on the team who can’t hit if he wants to; I mean +there isn’t one who hasn’t the ability to hit. You fellows have got +in a slump, that’s your trouble. You started out pretty well and went +along all right until about the sixth week of the season. It was the +Greenville game that started you on the down grade. Ever since then +you’ve been off your game. Including the Greenville game, you’ve lost +five and won two, I think.” + +“Your statistics are absolutely correct,” said Tom, “only I object to +the――the inference you suggest.” + +“What inference?” asked Loring. + +“That the blamed old team was getting along all right until I joined +it!” + +“Facts speak for themselves,” said Clif. + +“All right, then. Facts narrate that Wyndham won six games, lost three +and tied one before she played Greenville. I’m just telling you this to +prove that I wasn’t the hoodoo. I didn’t go to the first until after +the Peebles game.” + +“Since when,” remarked Clif maliciously, “we’ve been licked four times.” + +“Just how many games have been won and how many lost?” asked Mr. +Bingham, lighting a fresh cigar. + +“It’s pretty bad, Mr. Bingham,” said Loring. “We’ve won eight, lost +eight and tied one. If we win all the remaining games we can’t finish +with better than eleven victories. I remember that Mr. Connover said +that first day in the cage, Clif, that he expected the team to win at +least fourteen out of twenty-two.” + +“That was bluff,” said Tom. “Coaches always make cracks like that at +the start of the season.” + +“Well, then, what about your enemy?” asked Mr. Bingham. “What has +Wolcott been doing?” + +“I don’t know exactly, sir,” Loring replied, “but I think she has won +about two-thirds of her schedule so far. Oh, she’s made a much better +showing than we have, there’s no doubt of that!” + +“Mustn’t think about that,” murmured Mr. Cooper. “Always start a scrap +with the conviction that you’re better than the other chap.” + +“That’s right,” agreed Loring; and, + +“Yeah, psychology,” grunted Tom. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + LORING GOES SCOUTING + + +Monday found the school deep in examinations, with anxious countenances +everywhere in evidence. Practice didn’t commence until four o’clock, +and games with the second were canceled for the rest of the season. The +second team played two games that week, one with Granleigh High School +on Tuesday, which went to only five innings, and one with Waterside +on Thursday. The latter spread over seven good, fast innings and was +captured by the home team in the sixth. The Granleigh contest resulted +in a 4 to 4 tie. On Wednesday the first played its second game with +Freeburg and won it, 8 to 2. There was only time for six innings, but +those six showed Wyndham’s superiority to the High School and brought +back a glimmer of hope to the Dark Blue’s supporters. The Freeburg +pitchers were not difficult, perhaps, but eleven hits in six frames, +even against mediocre twirlers, was held to be encouraging. And with +the first Wolcott contest but three days distant a little encouragement +went a long way! + +Tom was not enjoying himself very much those days. He expressed the +conviction, a rather faint conviction, that he would get good enough +marks in his studies to pass, but since by Wednesday he had accumulated +nothing better than _D’s_ his friends weren’t so sanguine. “Of course +I’ll flop in English,” he explained resignedly, “but I ought to get a +_B_ in Hygiene and a _C_ in History, and if I do I’ll pull through. +Anyhow, if I don’t I should worry. Old Winslow says I can’t come back +if I don’t pass, and I’m not letting that trouble me, either. I don’t +believe he has any notion of letting me go to college, so why kill +myself getting through here?” + +“But you’d rather come back next year than not, I fancy,” said Mr. +Cooper. They were sitting in the stand while the rest of the team +gathered for practice. + +“Oh, well, I don’t know,” replied Tom carelessly. “I guess I’d rather +go into the Navy or something. I’d like to see the world, Mr. Cooper.” + +“Of course, but there’d be time enough after college. Or you could do a +bit of travel in summer.” + +“Swell chance with old Winslow holding the purse strings!” + +“Really? But he wouldn’t object to your going across now and then, +would he?” + +“He’d object if I wanted to cross the Hudson River,” said Tom. “Oh, I +suppose there isn’t much money in the old sock. He never will tell me +how much I’ve got. When I ask him he just hems and haws and shakes his +head and looks like a dying fish. He seems to think I ought to earn a +scholarship. Can’t you see me doing it?” Tom grinned at his companion. +“His idea is that unless I get swell marks here there’s no use in my +staying. He’s going to throw a fit when he sees what I get in finals!” + +“If you fail to pass I dare say you could do a bit of tutoring this +summer and get back again, eh?” + +“Oh, sure, I could, but―― Well, Mr. Cooper, it’s like this. I’ve sort +of made up my mind that if I don’t pass I’ll just take a sneak. Honest, +there’s not much fun at home in the summer. Mr. Winslow sticks there +all through the hot weather, and if I want to go anywhere for more than +a day he blame near faints. By gosh, I’d just like to know how much +money my mother did leave me!” + +“Well, Tom,” said Mr. Cooper, tapping the ashes from his pipe, “I’d +rather like to see you go through here at Wyndham. I have a fancy that +Winslow will――I mean to say that you’ll get to college all right, old +chap. Fact is, I’d really appreciate it if you’d try real hard to pass +these examinations, Tom. Might consider it as a sort of favor to me.” + +Tom looked a little surprised, but a little pleased, too. He turned his +gaze to Pat Tyson, who was doing a juggling act with four baseballs for +the benefit of a group of early arrivals down by the bench, and after +a moment said: “All right, sir. Sure, I’ll do my best, only――only I +wouldn’t think it would make much difference to you, sir.” + +“Why not?” asked Mr. Cooper quietly. “You and I―― Well, to be frank, +Tom, I’ve got to liking you. Quite a lot. I hope you don’t mind me +saying that.” Mr. Cooper reddened and his voice held embarrassment. + +“No, sir, I don’t,” replied Tom stoutly. He still stared into the +diamond, though. “I――I like it.” He turned and gave the man a brief +glance and then, with a little nervous laugh, added: “It’s fifty-fifty, +sir.” + +“Honestly, old chap?” Mr. Cooper’s tone was so eager, so pleased, so +almost anxious as well, that Tom wondered and felt his own cheeks +reddening. He didn’t like to be embarrassed. So he only nodded. After +a pause Mr. Cooper said: “That’s the coach, isn’t it?” Rather a silly +question when you came to think of it, for Mr. Connover, who was no +more than forty paces distant, didn’t resemble any one but himself. +But Tom answered: “Yes, sir,” seriously enough and pulled himself up +preparatory to vaulting the rail. Then, rather diffidently, he said: +“Don’t you worry about me passing, Mr. Cooper. I’ll skin through +somehow!” + +As usual, Loring had Wattles push his chair to the end of the players’ +bench, and as usual most of the fellows came to him sooner or later for +a word or a chat. His score book, a leather-covered affair, lay on his +knees, and a well-sharpened pencil protruded from a pocket. Learning to +keep a score correctly was, he had discovered, not so easy, and he was +still obliged to call on the official scorer for assistance. To-day he +meant to go across to the other field after awhile and watch the second +team’s game with Waterside and fill one more page of his book with +neat little figures and symbols. As it turned out, however, he didn’t +do just that, for by the time the second and its opponent had finished +warming up and were ready to begin their delayed struggle Loring found +himself in converse with Coach Connover and too interested to leave. +Steve never appeared discomposed or even anxious, yet to-day Loring +thought he could detect an undercurrent of concern in the coach’s +casual discussion of the players and their work. But before that Steve +made a suggestion that captured Loring’s interest at once. + +“Deane, you have two more years here, haven’t you?” asked the coach. “I +thought so. Well, why don’t you compete next year for a manager’s job? +It’s something you could easily attend to, and you’d like it, I know. +Better consider it.” + +“Why, do you think――do you think I could, Mr. Connover?” gasped the +boy. “You know I can’t get around very――very fast!” + +“Fast enough, I guess. You’ve got executive ability, Deane; plenty of +it; which is more than most managers have. Of course the position of +manager or assistant doesn’t earn a great deal of glory; you don’t +stand in the limelight much; but it’s a lot more important than most +folks believe, and a good manager is worth a lot to his team. Well, I +think you could be a good manager, and I’d certainly like to see you +try for it. I believe that right now you know a lot more baseball than +any of the three fellows who are holding down the jobs this spring.” + +“Why, thanks,” murmured Loring, “but――gee, I don’t know! I couldn’t be +better than an assistant year after next, could I?” + +“No, not in the ordinary course of events,” was the reply. “But an +assistant, if he’s capable and has a head on him, is frequently of +more real value than the manager himself. In fact, Deane, as you may +have noticed, it’s the assistants who do most of the work! I wish I’d +thought of it before, so you could have competed this year. But I +didn’t know you so well, you see.” + +“I’d like awfully to try it,” said Loring eagerly. “You see, sir, there +isn’t very much that I can do here; a fellow has to be able to get +around a good deal, of course, if he tries for――for things; but if you +think I’d be able to do that, supposing I succeeded in getting by, I’d +love to try it.” + +“Oh, you’d get by, and you’d be able to handle the job when you got it. +And it might just happen that for some reason you could land something +better than an assistant’s job. You never can tell a year ahead what’s +going to happen. Fellows drop out of school or resign, you know. Think +it over, anyhow.” + +Mr. Connover arose and went out to the pitcher’s box, and the practice, +which had slowed up in the last few minutes, took on new vigor. +Loring remained silent several minutes, thinking over what the coach +had said. It would be really wonderful if he could make good Mr. +Connover’s prediction, if he could be of use in the school. Why, being +an assistant baseball manager would be almost like playing the game! He +turned suddenly to the silent Wattles. + +“Did you hear what Mr. Connover was saying, Wattles?” he asked. + +“Yes, sir, perfectly.” + +“Well, what do you think? Do you believe I could do it?” + +“Oh, very easily, sir. The position of manager doesn’t strike me, Mr. +Loring, as being a very arduous one, although there may be more to it +than――er――strikes the eye.” + +“Well, I do think I could do the――the work,” replied Loring. “What +I meant was would I――could we get around as we’d have to? Out here +every day, and away with the team on its trips, I suppose, and running +around to see different fellows. It would take quite a lot of pushing, +Wattles!” + +“We could do it, sir. I’ve no doubt the young gentlemen would make it +as easy as possible for you, Mr. Loring.” + +“But that’s just it, Wattles. I wouldn’t want any favors, and I’m +afraid I couldn’t――couldn’t fill the bill without them.” + +“I think you could, sir.” Wattles became suddenly apprehensively alert +as a ball arched into the air behind the catcher, but it descended a +good twenty feet away and Wattles relaxed again. “Mr. Loring, I’ve +been thinking for some time that if we had wider tires on the chair it +would be a deal better. These are quite satisfactory indoors, sir, but +they do go a bit hard on the turf. Now, if you see what I mean, sir, +a――er――wider traction――I think traction is the word――” + +“It is, Wattles, and I do see what you mean. I don’t see why one of +us didn’t think of it long ago. Why, with wider tires it wouldn’t be +half the work, would it? Especially when the ground’s soft in the early +spring, or after a rain! I say, that’s a corking brain wave, old scout!” + +Wattles coughed modestly, but looked quite pleased in his solemn +manner. Mr. Connover returned to his seat on the end of the bench just +then and further discussion of the brilliant scheme was postponed. “You +don’t happen to know where I can get hold of a couple of good hitters +for the Wolcott series, do you?” he asked smilingly as he sat down. “I +could do with a couple, Deane.” + +“They should be left-handers, too, shouldn’t they?” Loring asked +lightly. + +“Bless us, yes! But almost any sort would do. Just so long as they +could hit the ball at least once in three times up! I don’t hesitate +to tell you, Deane, that unless this bunch finds its batting eye next +Saturday we’re going to look pretty small.” + +“And they’re doing so well otherwise,” said Loring. “It does seem too +bad that they aren’t hitting better.” + +“Well, you never can tell what a team will do when it has to do it, +and I’m hoping that some of those chaps will come across day after +to-morrow. I’ve seen it happen often enough.” He told of a case in +point, but Loring didn’t pay very close attention, for he was thinking +of the coach’s opening remark. When the brief instance had been brought +to a convincing close Loring said: + +“You asked if I knew where you could get two hitters, sir. I don’t, but +I do know――at least――” Then he paused, in doubt. + +“Well, don’t leave me in suspense,” prompted the coach, smiling. “What +did you start to say?” + +“I’m wondering whether I ought to say it,” answered the boy, frowning +perplexedly. “You see, he’s a particular friend of mine, sir, and it +may be that I’m――that he isn’t as good as I think he is. I wouldn’t +want you to suppose that I was just trying to put something over on +you.” + +“Don’t trouble. I’ll look after myself, Deane. Who have you in mind? +Can he hit? Why haven’t I seen him?” + +“Oh, you’ve seen him all right,” said Loring. “That’s what makes me +think he can’t be as good as he seems to me. It’s Clif Bingham I’m +talking about, sir.” + +“Bingham?” echoed Steve. “Why, yes, I’ve seen Bingham often enough. +He never struck me as being an exceptional hitter. He’s still on the +scrub, isn’t he?” + +“Yes, sir. I don’t know whether you’d call him an exceptional hitter or +not, Mr. Connover, but he’s really done pretty well lately, and he’s a +left-hand batter.” + +“Hm. An outfielder, eh?” + +“Centerfielder, sir.” + +“You say he’s been hitting? Any idea what average he’s made with the +scrub?” + +“No, sir, not much. About two seventy-five, I’d say. Maybe better +lately. It wouldn’t do any harm to――to have a look at him, would it? I +guess――” Loring laughed――“I guess I could say more for him if he wasn’t +a particular chum of mine!” + +Mr. Connover smiled, but absently. “Bingham,” he muttered. “I remember +him. Played good football last fall, didn’t he? An outfielder, eh? Held +his position regularly, Deane?” + +“Well, for several weeks, sir. He beat out a fellow named Burke.” + +“I see.” Mr. Connover’s gaze strayed to the second diamond. “Look here, +Deane, I can’t leave this job. I wish you’d go over there and see what +Bingham does and let me know later. Tell me how he batted and fielded; +give me the full dope on him. Do you mind doing a bit of scouting?” + +“No, sir, I’ll be glad to. I meant to go over, anyway.” + +“Good! Don’t be too optimistic, though. I doubt if Bingham can be used +this year. But bring me a report on him just the same. Thanks. By the +way, Deane, this is rather like assistant manager stuff, eh?” + +When Loring reached the second team diamond, the game was already in +its second inning, and the visitors had just annexed their first tally. +Clif, however, fifth on the batting list, had still to make his initial +trip to the plate, and when, after the enemy had been retired without +further scoring, the second began to swing bats, Loring was conscious +of a nervous anxiety that evidently communicated itself to Wattles. +Wattles was breathing heavily, and, although he maintained his correct +attitude throughout the succeeding six innings, there were moments +when excitement threatened to upset it. Wattles liked Clif very much, +but even if he hadn’t Loring’s attachment for the boy would have been +sufficient to assure Wattles’ loyalty. + +Clif’s first trip to the plate ended in fiasco, for after he had +refused a delivery that the umpire called a strike and had allowed two +balls to go past him he bit at an in-curve and the sphere dribbled +half-way to the pitcher’s box and was sped quickly to first for the +second out of the inning. Having retired from a useless effort to reach +base ahead of the ball, he came across to where Loring sat, grinning +ruefully. “Rotten, wasn’t it?” he asked. “That curve fooled me all +right! Got it half-way up my bat. He doesn’t seem very hard, either. +Bet you I smash one the next time! What do you say? Drinks at Burger’s!” + +“You’re on,” said Loring eagerly. “And, listen, Clif, don’t forget the +thought business! You know, the old will power. Now’s the chance to use +it, old chap.” + +“Gee, you seem awfully keen about this game! Got any money on it?” +Clif laughed and then became puzzled by Loring’s serious countenance. +“What’s up?” he asked, scowling. His gaze shot to Wattles’ face. +Wattles looked more solemn than ever! + +“There’s more than money up,” replied Loring gravely. He wished that he +might tell Clif just what was up, but he thought it might not be fair. +Before Clif could ask the meaning of the cryptic statement he went +on, smiling to prove that he hadn’t meant a thing by it. “I want you +fellows to win your last game, naturally,” he said. “And I want you to +fatten your batting and fielding record, you chump. This is the last +chance you’ll get this year, isn’t it?” + +“Sure is. All right, you watch me. I’ll throw my thought on that +pitcher the next time and make him give me what I want! And if he does, +just watch it travel!” + +“I hope it does, Clif! And I hope you’ll hit every time you’re up!” + +“Thanks for your good wishes,” answered the other carelessly as he +sauntered off toward the outfield. “We’ll strive not to disappoint you.” + +They didn’t, and after Loring was back in his room Wattles set forth +for Number 21 West Hall bearing a slip of paper. On it in Loring’s neat +writing was this mysterious inscription: + +“A.B. 4; R. 1; 1B. 2; S.B. 1; S.H. 1; P.O. 2; A. 2; E. 0.” + +Coach Connover must have been able to translate that code and to +approve its meaning, for the next forenoon Bi Longwell knocked at +Number 17 West Hall and, finding the room empty, tore a leaf from a +pocket memorandum book, scrawled on it with his fountain pen and set +it prominently against the base of the electric lamp on the study +table. And there Clif found it a half-hour later. After having perused +its brief message twice, the first time with utter incredulity, the +second time with amazed delight, he laid it reverently down on the +table, thrust both hands into the pockets of his capacious knickers and +grinned expansively about the room. Then he said “_Gosh!_” very softly, +almost reverently. “_What do you know?_” + +Finally he picked up the slip of paper again and bore it to the window +and, after viewing it back and front, read the words once more. +“Bingham: Report to Coach Connover at 4. Longwell.” + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + WYNDHAM WINS + + +Possibly the school janitor remained behind in Cotterville that +Saturday, but certainly every one else connected with Wolcott Academy +made the journey to Freeburg. Oh, well, of course the Principal didn’t +come, and a few of the other members of the faculty may have been +absent, but no one missed them. The invading horde arrived by train +and by motor, flaunting brown banners bearing the white Old English W, +brown arm-bands, brown megaphones and brown ties. It took possession +of the town’s few lunch rooms and overflowed from the Inn. It wandered +about the streets and over the school grounds in bunches of two or +more, slightly patronizing, high-spirited and extremely confident. +And at two o’clock it filled the third base stand and ran over onto +the turf where it occupied a few settees filched from the gymnasium +or disposed itself on the ground. By that time eight pitchers had +warmed up in spite of the well-known fact that Ogden, for Wyndham, +and Osterman, for Wolcott, were to start the engagement. When, at a +few minutes after two of a cloudy, somewhat muggy afternoon, the Dark +Blue trotted into the field Jeff Ogden went to the mound and the +other three Wyndham pitchers retired to the bench. Save that Risley +was catching, the Wyndham team was the same aggregation that had been +beaten a week before by Horner. One Clifton Bingham, recently recruited +member of the squad, sat very comfortably in the shade of the first +base stand and had nothing to do save look on and enjoy the game. +In view of which it may seem strange that his countenance expressed +nothing that looked like appreciation! + +Considering that that contest was a pitcher’s battle from beginning to +end, and that just one run was scored, it would be futile for me to +pretend that it was, as some games are, a breathless, nerve-wracking +affair. Of course, if you are extremely partisan and somewhat emotional +you can derive excitement from almost any contest in which your team +takes part, and the audience to-day must have been both, for it +shouted, sang, howled, waved flags, megaphones, hats and score sheets +and acted decidedly concerned during nine innings. And since, as +already hinted, the afternoon was one of those afternoons when just to +turn around induces perspiration, some eight or nine hundred spectators +were reduced to a breathless, wilted mass long before the last man was +retired. + +Because in a series of two-out-of-three the capture of the first game +brings a distinct advantage to the victor, both teams wanted to-day’s +contest hard and went after it. Each started its best pitcher and +strongest batting list. Both Ogden and Osterman were left-handers, +but the similarity went little further. Jeff was a sizeable youth, +but Osterman was all of six feet tall, big-boned, lanky, long-armed, +awkward in everything save pitching. He was held to be Ogden’s superior +as a twirler, and his record showed it. He was a fast-ball artist first +and foremost, but he owned a few good curves. Like most left-hand +pitchers he could on occasion become exceedingly wild. + +Wolcott’s first batsman reached first when Van Dyke fumbled Tyson’s peg +across the diamond. The ball trickled toward the stand, and the runner +made the mistake of trying to get to second. Van recovered in time to +throw him out to Hurry. A hit to left field followed, and when Risley +threw to second to head off a steal Tom let the ball get through him +and the runner went on to third and Wolcott howled gleefully. The third +batsman flied out to Hurry. Jeff Ogden landed the ball against the next +man’s shoulder and he went to first. When he started for second Risley +threw to shortstop and Hurry made a wonderful return to the plate in +time to cut off the runner from third. One hit, two errors, no runs. + +For Wyndham, Pat Tyson hit between first and second and stole a minute +later. Greene struck out and so did Hurry Leland. Returning the +compliment, Osterman put the ball against Gus Risley’s ribs, and he +took his base. With two down and two on, the best Raiford could do was +foul out to Van Dyke. One hit, no errors, no runs. + +Again Wolcott’s first batter hit safely, although Hurry made a gallant +try. The runner went no further than first, however, for succeeding men +were disposed of by left fielder, third baseman――Tyson ran far for that +foul――and pitcher. That was Jeff’s first strike-out. Wyndham went out +in one-two-three order, Osterman fanning Tom and Van Dyke, and Talbott +hitting straight into first baseman’s hands. + +Tom made a neat capture of a grounder in the third and assisted at +the first out. Foul catches by Van Dyke and Risley retired the enemy +side. For Wyndham Ogden struck out on three pitched balls and Tyson +flied to left field. Greene got the first pass of the game and went +to third when Captain Leland singled across that bag. Wyndham shouted +imploringly for a score. Risley hit to shortstop and the latter cut off +Greene at the plate. + +Wolcott opened the fourth in a manner that caused the home team +supporters extreme distress. The first batter, after Jeff had got into +a hole, landed on a straight ball and drove it over Talbott’s head for +three bags. Had the runner been a bit faster that hit might have become +a home-run, and, even as it was, many questioned the wisdom of the +coacher on third when he held up the runner there. Ogden struck out the +next ambitious youth, but the subsequent batsman drove a hot one to +Van Dyke. Van made a neat stop and pegged to the plate, and Wolcott’s +hope was shattered. Risley blocked the runner cleverly. A minute later +Gus again earned a cheer when he threw down to Tom and spoiled the +steal. Wyndham expressed relief by prolonged cheering. + +The Dark Blue was also due with a sensation in that inning, for +after Raiford had gone out at first, first baseman to pitcher, Tom +came across with an exact duplicate of the enemy’s shot into left, +landing much tuckered on third base. But――and the game was duplicating +oddly――he, too, failed to score, since Talbott hit a fly to first +baseman and Van Dyke’s effort to center was an easy catch. + +Ogden fielded to Van Dyke for the first Wolcott out in the fifth, the +next batsman hit to left and later stole second cleverly, and the next +fell victim to Jeff’s curves. A hit would still have meant a tally, +but a long fly to right field ended the suspense. It was in the last +of the fifth that Wyndham broke through the Brown’s defense at last, +and it was Ogden who paved the way. Jeff wasn’t a hitter――few pitchers +are, of course――and Osterman had disposed of him with ridiculous ease +before. But this time Jeff laid back and wouldn’t be coaxed to swing +at the wide ones, with the result that before any one quite realized +it Osterman had wasted three balls and had but one strike on Jeff. +Jeff may not have had much hope of hitting the next offer, but it +was straight and fast and he swung. The ball arched into left field +and put Jeff on second, quite a bit surprised, probably! Pat Tyson +landed on the first offering and slammed it at Osterman who knocked +it down and fielded it to first for the out. But Ogden was by that +time safe on third, and Wyndham was making Rome howl. The coachers +behind first and third shouted and cavorted, the crowd on each side of +the diamond yelled and the Wolcott players babbled. And, apparently, +the temperature shot up from around eight-four to somewhere around a +hundred-and-four! + +A sacrifice fly would go a long way toward winning that game, and +doubtless the thought occurred to Coach Connover. Al Greene was the +next man on the Wyndham list, and Al had not yet touched the ball +with his bat, even to make a foul. The best he had done was to draw a +pass on the occasion of his last appearance. So right there Greene’s +connection with the team was temporarily severed, and a rather nervous +youth selected a bat, listened to Steve’s instructions and stepped +to the plate. The umpire waved his mask in a request for silence and +announced: + +“For Wyndham, Bingham batting in place of Greene!” + +I’ve stated that Clif was nervous, and so he was, but he tried very +hard not to let the enemy battery surmise the fact, and he succeeded. +First of all, after carefully annexing a sufficient amount of loam to +his hands, he bid for the catcher’s respect by moving his bat behind +him in a way to suggest that the catcher had best move back a couple +of inches. The catcher accepted the suggestion and wondered what +this unknown would like to have served to him. Having no dope on any +one named Bingham, he had to stop wondering and call for a couple of +inquiries. The first inquiry was an in-curve, and Clif looked it over +attentively and retired a foot from the plate to let it by. The next +was a high ball on the outside, and Clif let that alone, too, the +umpire indorsing his judgment. Then Osterman let go with a fast one, +knee high, and the count was two and one. The next was much the same +and had little on it except a slight drop. Clif liked it and swung +his bat against it and sped to first. Out in center field a youth +with brown sleeves ran in a few yards, pulled the ball to him, set +himself quickly and pegged to second baseman. And second baseman threw +desperately home. But no one save a one-legged man with inflammatory +rheumatism could have failed to score on that play, and Jeff, while +his arm might be slightly weary by now, had full use of his legs. Long +before the ball had settled into center fielder’s hands the Wyndham +rooters were on their feet――or their neighbors’――hailing the tally! Jeff +romped across the plate yards ahead of the ball and somewhat more than +half the audience went stark, staring mad! + +Then Captain Leland did just what Clif had done, sending a long fly to +center fielder, and the fifth, the wonderful fifth inning was over. And +Wyndham was one beautiful big run to the good! + +Well, so far as scoring was concerned that ended the game, for although +there were anxious moments during the succeeding four innings, never +again did either contestant get a man as far as third base. Both Ogden +and Osterman tightened up and pitched headier ball than they had been +pitching, and both infields played better. Wyndham got three more +scattered hits and Wolcott four――including a scratch――but not one led +to a tally. Neither Tom nor Clif hit again. Tom twice lifted flies to +the outfield, and Clif, up but once more, in the seventh, was an easy +out, pitcher to first base. It was in the first of the seventh that +Wolcott made her biggest threat. Then her first man hit past Tyson for +one and took second on a sacrifice out. Tom’s fast handling of a liner +killed him at third. Tom also had the honor of bringing the game to +a joyful close when he ran well into the outfield and caught a Texas +Leaguer. + +Loring’s score book showed, when it was all over and the tumult and +the shouting had died, that Wyndham had made seven hits to Wolcott’s +eight and three errors to the opponent’s two. But it also showed that +she had won the game. A comparison of the rival pitchers showed that +Osterman had struck out five men to Ogden’s four, had issued two passes +to Ogden’s one and, like the latter, had hit one batsman. At the bat, +however, Jeff had had far the best of the encounter, since, while +Osterman had made no hits at all, Jeff had slammed out a two-bagger and +subsequently scored the only run. + +All this was discussed and rediscussed that evening wherever two or +more delighted Wyndham fellows came together. And with it was discussed +also the outlook for the next contest. For instance, Loring is holding +forth to an audience composed of Tom, Clif and Mr. Cooper: “Tuesday’s +game will be a lot different. In the first place both teams will have +to put in pitchers not so good as to-day’s. I guess Mr. Connover will +start with Moore. Moore’s a left-hander, too, and he will probably +argue that if Wolcott couldn’t hit a left-hander to-day she won’t be +able to do much better Tuesday. Still, he might start Erlingby. In +any case, our pitcher’s going to be hit a heap harder than he was +to-day, for those fellows are batters! And we’ll be hitting more, +too, probably, for whoever Wolcott puts in against us will be easier +pickings than Osterman. We didn’t do badly to-day, I’ll say, for +Osterman’s a mighty good twirler. Anyhow, Tuesday’s game will be a +batting fest, and the side which bats the hardest will win. We will +be on the other fellow’s field, too, and that’s against us somewhat. +I don’t know how Tuesday’s game is going to come out, but I do know +that it’s going to be a harder game to score than to-day’s was! You’re +going, aren’t you, Mr. Cooper?” + +Mr. Cooper nodded, and the many little wrinkles about his eyes danced. +“Try to keep me away,” he answered. + + + + + CHAPTER XIX + + WALKING PAPERS + + +The Triumvirate were seated under the maples on the lawn. It was Sunday +afternoon, and the hot weather continued, although there was rather +more life in the air than there had been yesterday. Clif and Tom had +discarded coats, an example set them by numerous other youths who +dotted the shaded expanse beyond East Hall. Mr. Cooper, strolling over +from the Inn, found them there and joined the small circle. Loring and +Clif were attempting to arrange a meeting in France or Switzerland +in the summer, and Mr. Cooper, having seated himself on the grass, +leisurely filled his pipe and listened, with only an occasional word of +comment. Loring’s family would be abroad all summer, while Clif and his +father had only some six weeks to spend on the other side; facts which +made it difficult for the two boys to agree on a place and time of +meeting. Tom had nothing to say until, presently, Mr. Cooper remarked: +“I fancy you’d like a bit of that, Tom.” + +Tom shrugged. “Oh, no, I’d hate it! I couldn’t be happy outside the +dear old State of New Jersey.” + +“You’re out of it now,” said Clif. + +“And no better off,” answered Tom. “New Jersey――Connecticut――what’s the +diff?” + +“I wish you could be over there, too,” said Loring with evident +sincerity. “Say, wouldn’t we have a corking time, the three of us?” + +“The Triumvirate in the Alps,” mused Clif. “Sounds like a story, +doesn’t it? Gee, I wish you could make it, too, Tom. No hope, I +suppose? I mean you couldn’t possibly persuade Mr. Whatshisname that he +needs a vacation?” + +“If I could he’d take it at Asbury Park,” replied Tom disconsolately. +“Heck, I don’t believe he even knows there _is_ such a place as Europe!” + +“You might try the ‘old will power,’” suggested Mr. Cooper. “After what +it’s done here, you know, eh?” + +“I’d like to see any one will that guardian of mine to do anything he +didn’t want to!” said Tom bitterly. “Anyway, I’ve about decided that +that psychology stuff is the bunk. I don’t believe it had anything to +do with our making the first team, and I don’t believe Clif thinks it +did, either.” + +“Well, I do think so,” declared Clif stoutly. “Why, look here, Tom, +when I started out I had just about as much chance of making the nine +as――as I have of finding my name down in the First Ten to-morrow! And +then, all of a sudden, Steve grabs me! If it wasn’t because we fellows +kept thinking and willing, what was it because of?” + +Tom laughed jeeringly. “Don’t credit me with any of it, Clif, for I +haven’t done a nickel’s worth of willing for more than a week. I just +haven’t had time to think about it. Sorry, old chap, but you might as +well have the truth. I’ve been too busy to put my mind on your affairs. +Now let’s hear from Loring.” + +“I’m going to disappoint you,” said Loring. “I haven’t quit, Tom. The +old will power’s still working sixteen hours a day. One for all, you +know, and all for one!” + +“Well, I sort of forgot,” muttered Tom. “You fellows must have done it +single――no, double-handed.” + +“It’s sort of funny about that,” confessed Clif. “Fact is, I don’t +believe I’ve done much――much concentrating myself lately. That is, not +consciously. I suppose what happened was that I’d got sort of in the +habit of doing it and――and just did it without realizing.” + +Tom sniffed skeptically, but Loring said gravely, “That must be it, +Clif.” He had not told Clif of that talk with the coach and the +subsequent “scouting,” nor did he tell him about it until many weeks +later. Mr. Cooper broke in on the momentary silence. + +“If I were you, Tom,” he said, “I’d keep it up. The will power stuff, +I mean; concentration and all that, eh? No harm in trying, you know. +Wouldn’t be a bit surprised to run across the whole lot of you over +there later on.” + +“Well, _I’d_ be surprised if you did, mightily surprised!” retorted +Tom. “Unless ‘over there’ means Asbury Park!” + +“Oh, no,” replied Mr. Cooper seriously, “Switzerland. You never can +tell.” + +Tom looked at him incredulously, opened his lips to speak, thought +better of it and subsided. + +“Gosh,” sighed Clif, “it’s hard to realize that we’ll be all through +here Wednesday! That I’ll be having lunch at home the next day! And +taking in a ball game in the afternoon, maybe, and going to a movie in +the evening!” + +“I suppose you’ve got through finals all right, Loring,” said Tom. “It +must be funny not to have to worry any about them.” + +“Yes, I’m fairly certain of passing,” replied Loring. “How about you?” + +“Me? Oh, I’ll get by,” answered Tom doggedly. “Somehow. I can’t just +figure it out, but I have a hunch that I’ll make it. Got to if I want +to come back next year.” + +Tom’s hunch proved correct, thanks to a fortunate and, to him, quite +inexplicable _B_ in Hygiene. Loring’s name was on the list in the +First Ten of the third class, and Clif barely failed of winning that +distinction. Although Tom had professed his certainty of passing, the +news that he had scraped through appeared to bring him a vast relief +and a noticeable elevation of spirits. He felt so good all the forenoon +that it required earnest efforts on the part of Clif and Billy Desmond +to keep him from breaking a window as a testimonial of joy. Dissuaded +from this course, he set out for the Inn to announce the glad tidings +to Mr. Cooper. The latter seemed quite as pleased as Tom. + +“Of course,” Tom acknowledged, “I haven’t got much to boast of. If +‘Cocky’ hadn’t given me that _B_ in Hygiene I’d have failed. The +only thing I’m afraid of is that he made a mistake and will find it +out before Wednesday! Alick was pretty good to me, too; better than +I thought he would be. I’ve been a good deal of a trial to him all +year, and he might have socked me an awful wallop if he’d wanted to. +He’s a pretty square old guy, Alick! I guess Mr. Winslow will cut up +a bit when he sees my marks, but he can’t say I didn’t pass.” Tom was +frowningly thoughtful a moment. “Something tells me he’s going to be +disappointed. I have an idea he’d be glad of an excuse to take me away +from here. He’s always reminding me of how much it costs. Well, I +fooled him this time!” + +“Can’t you stay and have lunch with me?” asked Mr. Cooper a few minutes +later. + +“Thanks, but I can’t, sir. You see, I’m at training table now, and +Steve makes us all toe the mark. Sorry, sir. I’d like to.” + +Practice was called for two-thirty, since there were no more classes, +and, having nothing particular to do after dinner, Tom went over to the +gymnasium at a few minutes before two. He had lost track of Clif and +expected to find him in the locker room. Whether Clif was there Tom +didn’t discover, for, he didn’t reach the locker room until very much +later. Fate ordained that he should encounter Coles just short of the +entrance, and in ordaining that Fate played a scurvy trick on Tom. + +Ever since he had been deposed from second base by Tom, Wink Coles had +nursed a grievance. He hadn’t shown the fact to any extent, and the +friendly relations between the two had not been noticeably affected. +They had never been very close, even in the fall, when both had played +on the Fighting Scrub, as last season’s second eleven had been dubbed. +Wink had fully expected to play second base throughout the spring, +and he had been sadly disappointed when Tom had been elevated from +the scrub nine and he, Wink, had been relegated to the position of an +infield substitute. Only a few hours before the encounter with Tom he +had learned that in two studies in which he had fully expected _B’s_ he +had been awarded _C’s_. He had passed, but he had done it by a margin +not very much wider than Tom’s, and he was still disgruntled. In short, +Wink Coles was in a state of mind hardly to be classed as genial, and +it was unfortunate that Tom, still in an expansive mood, should have +chosen that particular opportunity to be affable. + +“Hello, Wink!” he greeted, refusing to be satisfied with the nod and +grunt they usually exchanged on meeting. “How’d you come out?” + +“All right,” replied Wink gloomily, continuing to lean against the wall +and stare into the sunlit distance. “How’d you?” + +It was plainly to be understood that he didn’t care a continental about +Tom’s fate, but Tom was not critical of tones. He answered smilingly +and flippantly. + +“Great! In the First Ten――counting from the bottom! I’m still wondering +how it happened.” + +“You’re a lucky dub, anyhow,” replied Wink unflatteringly. + +“I was lucky this time,” agreed Tom, with what may have seemed to +the other a distinctly irritating laugh. That would have ended the +conversation if Tom hadn’t remembered that he had lots of time on his +hands. He didn’t particularly care for Wink, but he wanted to talk to +some one and, failing another, Wink would answer. “They say it’s better +to be born lucky than rich,” Tom went on. + +“I guess it is,” said Wink. “And I’ll say you’re sure lucky!” At last +it dawned on Tom that the other was not in absolute sympathy. In fact, +Wink’s tone of voice had been a trifle――well, a trifle mean! Tom became +inquiring in look and speech. + +“Sounds like a nasty crack, Wink,” he said less genially. “What’s on +your mind?” + +“Well,” answered Wink, eying him coldly, “I guess you were pretty lucky +to land on the nine, weren’t you?” + +“Oh! That’s what’s eating you, eh? Yes, I guess there was some luck in +that, but I wouldn’t say it was all luck. Sorry I crowded you, Wink, +but I couldn’t help it, you know. Fortunes of war, and all that, eh?” + +“Oh, sure!” replied Wink sarcastically. “Fortunes of war and a lot of +luck, Kemble.” + +Tom frowned. “Heck, what are you so sore about? You didn’t own that +position, did you? Anyway, why don’t you tell your stuff to Steve? +What’s the idea of blaming it all on me?” + +“Who said I was blaming you?” asked Wink. “And I guess you’re right, +at that. Luck’s pretty good, but standing in with the coach is a blame +sight better, I guess.” + +“Is that _so_?” inquired Tom. “Meaning I swiped for that job, eh? +You’ve got a crust!” + +“Oh, I’m not saying you swiped.” Wink laughed annoyingly. “You didn’t +have to, I guess. Steve has his friends, and ever since last fall +you’ve been one of them. Lots of fellows thought it was mighty funny +when he jumped you from the scrub, Kemble.” + +Tom smiled. If Wink had known him a good deal better he would have +recognized that particular kind of a smile as a danger signal. “Coles,” +said Tom gently, “those cracks about me don’t bother me a mite, +but when you say that Steve Connover isn’t straight you’ve started +something. Listen to this, and get it. You’re a dirty pup.” + +Wink struck swiftly, but Tom was ready. He stepped back quickly and +held up a hand. “Cut it out!” he said. “I’m not going to be fired on +account of you. I’ll fight you all right, but we’ll fight regularly +to-morrow morning.” + +“You’ll fight now!” gasped Wink. “You called me a pup, you――you rotten +swiper!” He struck again and landed glancingly on Tom’s neck. Tom +backed away, shooting a hasty glance about. Fortunately, although there +were a score or more of fellows over on the scrub diamond, no one was +apparently looking toward the gymnasium steps. Wink was following, +eloquent on the subject of Tom’s character. Tom shrugged. + +“All right,” he said grimly. “I’ll fight now, but not here. Come around +the corner.” + +“You bet you’ll fight!” raged Wink Coles, following the other. “You’ll +fight or I’ll chase you all over the lot!” + +“Save your breath,” advised Tom, and went down the steps, slipping out +of his coat as he went. + +Five minutes later a scandalized first classman hurried over from the +tennis courts, followed by a squad of interested schoolmates, and +hurled the combatants apart. Even Wink realized authority when he met +it, and if he hadn’t there were enough assistant peace-makers to quell +him. The first classman delivered a scorching oration, declared that it +was his duty to report the offenders at once, made it plain that he had +no intention of doing any such thing and finally calmed down enough to +offer advice. + +“You fellows cut in there before any one else sees you and get Dan to +fix you up. You’re disgusting, both of you! You ought to know better +than pull this stuff. Shut up!” This to Wink, attempting a defense +through one side――the unbattered side――of his mouth. “I don’t want to +hear anything about it! Get in there, I tell you. And if you want my +advice I’ll tell you you’d better keep away from the faculty the rest +of the day!” + +Some fifteen minutes later Mr. Connover stopped in front of Wink Coles +and gazed at him in surprise. Wink looked extremely disreputable. Steve +hesitated, walked on, turned back and spoke. “Who did that to you, +Coles?” he asked. Wink looked away, encountered the amused faces of +his mates and muttered unintelligibly. Steve frowned. As a member of +the faculty it was his duty to report for discipline any infraction +of the rules, and there was a stern injunction against fighting save +at a certain place and under established regulations. The regulations +provided that an affair of honor must be laid before a member of +the upper class whose duty it was to inquire thoroughly into the +merits of the matter and, if in his judgment a meeting was advisable, +appoint a referee and set the time of the combat. Then, each principal +having selected a second, the affair was pulled off with as little +publicity as possible and under prize-ring rules behind the stable. +These meetings were held in the early morning, and Mr. Connover had +only to view Wink’s countenance to know that its unlovely appearance +was of short standing. Still, members of the faculty were permitted +discretion, and sometimes it was considered unwise to pursue researches +too far. Mr. Connover viewed the embarrassed Wink a moment longer, as +though lending full consideration to that muttered explanation, and +then said briefly: “You’re excused for the day, Coles.” + +And that was that. And just when the incident was losing savor for +the players, and Dan, the trainer, was emptying the baseballs out on +the turf, a new sensation arrived in the person of Tom. If Wink was +disreputable, Tom was unfit for publication! And he knew it. Hurrying +so as not to be late, he yet tried very hard to reach his goal without +notice, and with the latter desire uppermost in his mind, he skirted +the first base stand and attempted to slip into the throng as modestly +as possible. But when you have two areas of plaster decorating your +face and a strip of the same glaring material across the knuckles of +one hand your chance of attaining obscurity is slim. There arose a +delighted if restrained cheer from his teammates as Tom, affecting +nonchalance, stepped into the shadow of Cobham and tried the experiment +of fitting a left-hand glove over a painful right. Having recognized +the futility of that attempt, Tom picked up a trickling ball, turned +his back toward the coach and wandered down the line. Surreptitious +remarks greeted him, but Tom appeared too intent on duty for mere +persiflage. He didn’t really have much hope of escaping the vigilant +eye of Mr. Connover, but at least he could postpone the evil moment he +thought. If only the coach would send the first team into the field―― + +“Kemble!” + +Tom stopped as though shot, hesitated and turned innocently toward +the speaker. The coach had trailed him along the base line, almost to +first, and he looked very angry. Tom’s heart sank, but he attempted a +blithe smile, which hurt him considerably, and responded: “Yeth, thir?” + +“So you’ve been fighting again, have you?” demanded Steve in a voice +that reminded Tom of a blue chisel. “Getting to be rather a habit with +you, isn’t it?” + +“Yeth――_no_, thir!” Tom wished he didn’t have to lisp like that. It +sounded so silly! But the inside of his mouth was very sore, and +his cheek and his tongue and his lower lip got in each other’s way +horribly. He was well aware that he presented a lamentable, even a +humorous appearance, and he looked hopefully at the coach, thinking +that either sympathy or amusement would break the glacial set of +the latter’s features. But Mr. Connover had been presented with one +too many incapacitated players this afternoon, and neither pity nor +amusement swayed him. + +“I’ve sent Coles off for the day,” said the coach, “and you may go, +too. Only you needn’t come back, Kemble. I shan’t need you any more +this season.” + +Tom was stunned. There was one awful instant of silence and then he +broke into protests. “Honeth, Mither Connover, ’twath’nt my fault! I――I +didn’t mean――” + +“You got into a fight at Greenville,” said the coach coldly. “I let +that go. But this time I’m through. I’m forced to the conclusion that +you’re simply a trouble-maker, Kemble. I don’t want your sort on the +nine. I ought to report you at the Office. That is my duty as a faculty +member. But I’m going to deal with you merely as a coach. Possibly the +loss of your place on the team will be enough to show you――” + +“I with you’d let me tell you, pleathe, thir! Honeth, I didn’t thtart +it, thir. You thee――” + +“That will do, Kemble. I don’t want your excuses. You’ve been fighting +with Coles, contrary to school regulations, and I’m letting you off +pretty easy with the loss of your place on the squad. There’s no more +to be said. I want you to leave the field this instant.” + +“Yeth, thir.” Tom attained a certain dignity then, not an easy thing to +do under the circumstances. “I’m thorry, Mither Connover.” + +“So am I, Kemble.” The tone was not quite so hard, but Tom didn’t make +the mistake of thinking that it presaged relenting. “Mither Connover” +turned away and strode back to his duties, and Tom, trying hard to keep +his eyes clear of tears, went straight for the gymnasium. Before he +had reached it self-pity gave way to anger against Coles. He would, he +concluded, get his togs off and go in search of Wink. And when he found +him he would start where he had left off and finish the job! No, sir, +it didn’t make a bit of difference to him whether he got fired or not +now. If he couldn’t play any more baseball what use was there sticking +around the rotten hole? Something had told him long ago that he wasn’t +going to like Wyndham, and now he hated it! + +He wondered where Wink Coles could be found. Probably in his room. Tom +managed a crooked smile at the thought of how that room would look +when he was through with Wink. Then the smile faded before a look of +exasperation, for he couldn’t for the life of him remember where Wink +roomed! Well, he could find out. Loring had a catalogue. He had seen +it on the lower shelf of the bookcase only last evening. And Loring +would be out, for Tom had glimpsed him at the far end of the bench +when he had slipped past the end of the stand. Yes, and Mr. Cooper had +been there, too; sitting back of third base; seeing the whole rotten +business. That was tough! He wished Mr. Cooper hadn’t witnessed his +degradation. Mr. Cooper was――well, Tom thought a good deal of Mr. +Cooper and valued his respect. And that reminded him that Mr. Cooper +had wanted so much to have him pass, and had shown such pleasure +just that morning when he had heard the news. And now, Tom reflected +uneasily, he was going to get himself fired out of school, and Mr. +Cooper would be horribly disappointed in him. Somehow the idea of +beating up Wink Coles some more lost its appeal. Besides, come to think +of it, Wink had done a lot more beating up than he had! Wink was a year +older and about twelve pounds heavier and no dumb-bell when it came to +the wallops! Tom acknowledged a grudging respect for Wink. Still, that +didn’t cut any ice. Even if he got licked good and plenty, he would +manage to make Wink look a lot worse than he did now before he was +through! Only there was Mr. Cooper, and Mr. Cooper was a corking chap, +and―― + +And just then Tom reached the silent locker room, and there was Wink, +sitting on a bench, his legs sprawled before him and his gaze fixed +disconsolately on space. But he looked around when Tom clumped in on +his spikes, and the two stared at each other for a brief moment without +speech. Then each averted his gaze and Tom pulled open the door of his +locker and began to unlace a shoe. Silence was heavy. Tom wondered why +he didn’t go across and challenge the foe to a renewal of hostilities. +They’d probably have the place to themselves long enough to reach a +decision. It wasn’t that he was afraid――although, to be quite frank, +the passing thought of having to hit anything with his bruised hand +again was distinctly unpleasant――but the savor seemed to have gone out +of the project. Tom kicked the first shoe off and started on the other. +Then Wink’s voice sounded hollowly in the room. + +“Think he will let us back to-morrow?” asked Wink. + +“You,” growled Tom. “Not me. I’m fired. For keeps.” + +There was a long moment of silence. Then: + +“How does he get that way?” demanded Wink indignantly. “He didn’t tell +me I was fired. He just said I was excused for to-day. How come he +socks you like that?” + +Tom gave up trying to undo an obdurate knot and faced his recent +antagonist. “Says I’m a trouble-maker. I had a bit of a rumpus with +a guy over in Greenville the day we played there, and Steve got onto +it and was mighty decent. Then, to-day――oh, I suppose he couldn’t help +thinking I was a rough-neck. Said fighting was a habit with me and he +didn’t want any of my kind on the team.” + +Another silence broken finally with: “That’s not fair, Tom. It was my +fault. You didn’t want to fight me then. I made you.” + +“Oh, well.” Tom shrugged. “I didn’t have to, I guess.” + +“Sure, you had to! Say, you needn’t believe it if you don’t want to, +but I’m mighty sorry. Tell you what I’ll do――” + +“You’ll do nothing,” replied Tom emphatically. “One of us is enough. +Oh, heck, I guess I deserve what I got. It was a fool stunt!” + +“Sure was,” agreed Wink sadly. + +“Well, what in time did you go and start it for?” demanded Tom with +pardonable asperity. “I don’t see yet what you had to get so blamed +nasty about!” + +“I know,” acknowledged Wink humbly. “It was pretty rotten. I was sore, +that’s all. About losing my place on the team, and not getting better +marks after I’d worked like the dickens all spring; and you being so +thundering pleased with yourself and――and everything! I sort of went +flooey. I’m awfully sorry, Tom. Honest!” + +“All right,” answered the other hurriedly. “Guess I know how you felt. +Just rotten luck, that’s all. Forget it, Wink.” + +“I wish you’d let me tell Steve just what happened; how it started and +all.” + +“Swell scheme!” jeered Tom. “Tell him you said he was playing +favorites, eh? You’d make a hit with him!” + +“I wouldn’t care,” muttered Wink. “Besides, I was only talking. I know +Steve’s square just as well as you do.” + +“You do!” Tom stared in amazement. “Well, I’ll be switched! Then +why――what――” + +Wink shrugged disconsolately. “I just wanted to make you mad, I +suppose.” + +“Huh! Well, you did it! But you keep away from Steve!” + + + + + CHAPTER XX + + CLIF GETS AN ERROR + + +The gathering of the Triumvirate in Loring’s room that Monday evening +was rather gloomy for awhile. Tom’s news affected them all. Loring +was so disturbed by it that presently Tom was forced to assume a +cheerfulness he was far from feeling in order to rescue the other from +the dumps. “Oh, well,” said Tom, grinning heroically, “I did better +than I expected to, anyway. When I started out in February I didn’t +really have any hope of making the first team, but I did make it and I +played in several games, and so it isn’t so bad, eh?” + +“Where you made your big mistake,” said Clif, “was in going over to the +field after that scrap. Why didn’t you send word that you were sick or +something and ask for a cut?” + +“Yes, I guess I pulled a boner there, Clif. But you know how Steve is +about missing practice. He’d have been around to see me this evening, +probably, and I’d have been just as bad off. You see,” concluded Tom +ingenuously, “I thought maybe he wouldn’t notice anything.” + +That naïve statement brought the first laugh of the evening. The idea +of any one short of a blind man failing to notice Tom’s plastered and +discolored face was certainly amusing! Mr. Cooper, rather to Tom’s +relief, seemed less inclined to blame the latter for that set-to with +Coles than did the others. Of course neither Clif nor Loring bore down +heavily on that phase of the disaster, but Tom knew very well that +they considered him culpable. Mr. Cooper seemed to be more interested +in the fact that Tom had fought in defense of Mr. Connover than in the +fact that he had transgressed school regulations. He even suggested +tentatively that possibly Mr. Connover, could the whole story be laid +before him, might be moved to leniency. But Tom rejected the idea. +“That would be just like swiping,” he said. “Wink wanted to go and tell +Steve that stuff, but I said he shouldn’t. Besides, I’m not so certain +I fought Wink because he dragged Steve in. Maybe it was just because he +got me good and mad.” + +Mr. Cooper refused that theory with a shake of his head, but Clif, not +yet won to sympathy, muttered: “You’re always going off half-cocked, +you crazy coot!” + +Presently the talk turned to the morrow’s game once more, and Tom +discovered that, even though he must witness it from the stand instead +of the diamond, he could find interest in speculation and discussion. +Loring, Mr. Cooper and Wattles were to make the trip to Cotterville, +which was some twenty-six miles distant, in a hired automobile, and +now it was arranged that Tom should make a fourth in the party. Clif +would, of course, go with the players in one of the motor buses. +Whether he would start the game in the outfield was another subject for +speculation. Clif thought it would depend on whether Wolcott used a +left-hand or right-hand pitcher. + +“He had Greene playing center most of the time to-day,” he said, “and +that looks as if Al was the favorite. Say, Tom, you and Coles certainly +put Steve on his ear to-day. He was sure grouchy!” + +“I don’t see that you can blame him,” observed Loring. “Saturday he had +a nice infield that worked together like the insides of a clock. Now +he’s got to put Coles in at second base, and he hasn’t played there +regularly for weeks! Why shouldn’t he get peeved? It’s enough to make +any coach mad!” + +“I guess that’s right,” sighed Clif. “I guess he has a hunch that we’re +going to get smeared to-morrow.” + +“Heck, why should we?” demanded Tom. “Didn’t we beat them Saturday? Why +can’t we do it again?” + +“For several reasons,” answered Clif tartly. “One of ’em is that you’ve +spilled the beans, you poor fish!” + +“Aw, shut up,” growled Tom unhappily. + +There had been talk of Cobham behind the plate for Wyndham in +Tuesday’s game, but evidently Cob wasn’t quite ready for duty again +since it was Gus Risley who donned the mask when the last half of the +first inning began that afternoon at Cotterville. But Gus had done a +good job before, and if Wyndham was to meet with defeat it probably +wouldn’t be due to the catcher. The Dark Blue had sent but three men +to bat in the first of the inning and Rice, the Wolcott left-hander, +had disposed of them easily. Sam Erlingby was in the points for +Wyndham. Sam was a right-hander, but as Wolcott had touched up Ogden, +who pitched from the port side, pretty frequently on Saturday it was +thought that Sam would prove as effective as either of Wyndham’s +remaining possibilities, Moore and Frost. Sam started off badly with a +pass, but after that he settled down and soon had the side out. + +Clif was in center field, rather to his surprise, and, although he +didn’t know it yet, was in for a busy afternoon. His first chance came +in the second when, after Talbott had been retired, pitcher to first +base, for Wyndham’s third out, the Wolcott shortstop, first up, lifted +a fly to the outfield. Both Clif and Raiford made for it, for the ball +was hit to short field and might have been ticketed for either of +them. Clif, however, had started quicker than the right fielder, and +Captain Leland’s cry of “Bingham! Bingham!” caused Raiford to slacken. +Clif hardly dared hope to make that catch, but he did, picking it at +last with his knuckles almost scraping the turf. Of course, he went +headlong, but he held tightly to the ball and scrambled back to his +feet to the sound of wild cheering from the Wyndham side of the field. +Wyndham had come to Cotterville with the fine determination to grab +off this contest and settle the series here and now. Not more than +a handful of fellows had remained behind, the cheer leaders were on +their feet constantly and the Dark Blue’s rooters were enthusiastically +responsive to demands. They seemed to have made up their minds that if +the victory depended on noise it was to be theirs! + +There was no scoring until the fifth. Then, after Clif had just failed +to beat the ball to first――he had struck out abjectly his first time +up――and Talbott had popped a weak fly to third baseman, Van Dyke +whacked a hard one over first base and got to second by a hair’s +breadth. Sam Erlingby got into the hole and then waited for the pitcher +to even the score. Then he swung mightily at what was meant for a third +strike, and the ball glanced off his bat and went bounding toward +third base. Third baseman came in hard, sought to scoop the ball up +one-handed, missed it and both runners were safe. It remained for Pat +Tyson to produce a score, and Pat came across with a clean hit into +left that sent Van Dyke scampering across the plate with the initial +tally of the game. But that ended the scoring for another inning, +for Erlingby was out at third when Raiford hit to shortstop, and +Wolcott, although she got a runner to second, was not yet able to solve +Erlingby’s slants. + +Wyndham went down expeditiously in the sixth and the audience began +to wonder if this was to be another 1 to 0 game. Wolcott answered the +question speedily, however, for the sixth was the Brown’s big inning. +Rice, the pitcher, started the trouble with a short fly that Wink Coles +was unable to capture, although he made a gallant attempt. A sacrifice +put Rice on second. Then Erlingby let down and, presto, the three bags +were occupied, there was but one man away and the Wolcott shortstop, +a hard hitter, was up. Erlingby pitched two balls without getting a +strike across, and then a halt was called and Sam retired, cheered by +his schoolmates but looking rather dejected. Coach Connover selected +Bud Moore to carry on the game. To some it seemed that Jeff Ogden +might have been his choice, but since Jeff would be called on to pitch +to-morrow it was doubtless the part of wisdom to give him the benefit +of another day’s rest. Bud faced a hard task and began it none too well +when the best he could do was put one strike over and then pitch two +more balls, forcing in the tying run. + +A liner to Coles was knocked down, but he messed up the recovery of the +ball and the runner from third was safe at the plate by inches only. +However, Risley’s quick throw to third got the next runner for the +second out. A long fly to left field was misjudged by Talbott, and a +third tally came in. Another fly, this time to center field, sent Clif +speeding back and back until it seemed to him that he must presently +crash into the wall of the dormitory there. But he didn’t get quite to +the building, and when the ball came down he was luckily under it, and +the big inning came to an end right then. + +But three to one looked bad when the seventh inning began, and no +better when the first half of it was over. Hurry got a hit, but Risley, +Coles and Clif went out miserably. Wolcott took to the foe’s new +twirler enthusiastically in the last of the inning but hit safely only +once. Clif had two easy flies for the second and third outs. Wyndham +shouted hoarsely, imploringly, for runs when the eighth started, +and Pat Tyson, head of the Dark Blue’s batting list, stepped to the +plate. But the best Pat could do was a foul to first baseman. Raiford, +however, brought joy and hope with a long single to right field, and +Captain Leland’s bunt along first base line, after being allowed plenty +of time to roll foul, decided to remain fair, and there were two on. +Wyndham went quite crazy with delight and blue pennants waved mightily. + +Gus Risley was not a certain hitter, but he was capable of sending a +ball far when he connected with it. On the present occasion, though, +Gus was much too eager to hit, and in the end a fly to right field +sent him back to the bench and the runners to second and third. Wink +Coles was derricked in favor of a pinch hitter, Sim Jackson. Sim was +canny and waited while Rice delivered a ball, a strike and a second +ball. Then he tried at one and missed it. Rice sent a third ball over +and then, while Sim watched operations narrowly, pitched into the dirt +for the fourth ball. Wyndham again rose to unprecedented heights of +sound! Three on, two down! Clif, whose turn it was, looked questionably +at Mr. Connover. It seemed to Clif that right here was an excellent +spot into which to insert another pinch hitter. But the coach only +nodded and didn’t even give him instructions, and Clif went out to the +plate feeling horribly anxious and impotent. But the Wolcott pitcher +helped vastly to restore his equanimity by sending over something +so wide of the rubber that only a marvellous acrobatic stunt by the +catcher prevented a wild pitch. After that, amidst the delighted booing +of the visitors, Rice offered another ball, and the Wolcott coach +signaled from the bench and the Brown changed pitchers. + +Dobbel, the succeeding artist, was a right-hander, and was said to +have nothing very much except a good out-curve and a slow ball with a +considerable break. He started out by fooling Clif on a curve and then +tried the same thing again and heard the umpire call it a ball. He +looked pained and pitched a straight one. At least, it looked straight +until Clif swung at it. Clif missed it by inches, it seemed. The next +one had to be good, and Clif kept his eyes glued fast on the pitcher +and then on the oncoming sphere. Then he swung and hit and raced for +first. Second baseman made a wild stab for the flying ball but missed +it. Clif stopped at first. The ball came back from right fielder and +was relayed home by the pitcher, but Raiford and Leland were safe +and the score was tied! And then, before any one quite knew what was +happening, Sim was being run down between second and third! Clif, +half-way to second, scuttled back, but he might as well have kept on, +for Jackson finally dashed for third and was tagged. + +Then came the last of the eighth, with Wyndham and Wolcott both +shouting wildly and very, very hoarsely, with blue and brown pennants +swirling and with Fortune still impartial. And in the last of the +eighth the Wyndham infield, which had gone along well enough so far, +cracked wide open! + +Captain Leland made the first miscue when he took an easy bounder and +snapped it across the diamond well over Van’s head. The runner went on +to second without having to slide. A minute later Pat Tyson fumbled +and there were two on. Out in center field Clif watched miserably +and chewed grass stalks as fast as he could pluck them. Then came a +chance for a double, Leland to Coles to Van Dyke, and this time it was +Wink who spilled the beans. He made the out at second but threw so +far to the left of first that Van Dyke had to go off his bag for the +ball. There were runners now on first and third with only one down. A +well-timed steal put the second runner on the middle sack. Then the +batter found something of Moore’s that he liked the looks of and there +was a mighty _crack_. On bases the brown-legged runners poised, ready +for their sprints, while the ball arched far into center field. Clif +turned and ran out to the left a few yards, judged the ball again +and stepped back. It would be an easy catch, he knew, and yet the +proceedings so far in that inning had given him a troubled mind, and +now, as the ball came dropping slowly toward him, he became obsessed +with a sudden foreboding of failure. He tried to thrust it away from +him in the brief moment that remained, but it clung. Then his hands +went up and the ball slapped into his glove and a great relief flooded +him as he stepped forward for the throw and swung his hand back. And +then the thing happened. For an instant he had held the ball securely, +it had seemed, yet when he threw his arm backward it was no longer in +his hand! + +He saw it at his feet an instant later, seized it and, raging at +himself, sped it to Coles. But the deed was done by the time Wink got +the ball. Two more runs had been scored, there was a man on first and +there was still but one out. Wyndham sat down again, comparatively +silent for once, and pondered defeat. Out in center field a miserable +youth stared fixedly at the diamond, unheeding Sid Talbott’s “Hard +luck, Clif!”, calling himself all the uncomplimentary things his mind +could think of and wishing very, very hard that he didn’t have to walk +in there presently and face that crowded stand. + +Yet the actuality wasn’t nearly so bad as the anticipation, for none +of his teammates showed by word or look that he had failed them, while +the audience, having witnessed a smart double play by Moore, Leland and +Van Dyke, had for the time forgotten that fiasco of his. But Tom didn’t +forget it. He watched gloomily while Talbott fanned, Van Dyke bunted +to third baseman and was thrown out and Bud Moore popped an easy fly +to shortstop. Then he listened gloomily while the defeat was discussed +from every angle in the dressing room. And finally he sat, moody and +disconsolate, in the bus and rattled and swayed back to Freeburg. He +found no relief from the knowledge of defeat, as did the others, in +talking largely of what would happen to-morrow. In fact, he was pretty +certain that he would have no share in the morrow’s happenings! + + + + + CHAPTER XXI + + WATTLES INTERVENES + + +Returning from Cotterville, Tom alone of the four occupants of the car +was downcast. Loring had discounted the defeat, Mr. Cooper accepted it +with cheerful philosophy and Wattles maintained a thoughtful silence +that, unnoted by the others, was at moments slightly perturbed, even +anxious. He listened to the discussion, which lasted most of the way to +Freeburg, but volunteered speech only once. Then he inquired of Loring: +“If Mr. Tom had taken part, sir, we might have won, do you think?” + +Loring said “Yes,” and Tom grunted. “I might have been worse than any +of them,” he said. “You can’t tell. One fellow slips up and then the +whole infield goes on the blink. It’s catching!” + +“Just the same,” replied Loring, “I wish you were going to be in there +to-morrow!” + +After the school had been reached, Wattles attended to Loring’s comfort +and then with a cough said: “If you’ll not be needing me for a short +time, sir, there’s a small matter I’d like to attend to.” + +Loring, studying the score he had kept of the afternoon’s game, nodded +absently. “I’m all right. Don’t hurry back, Wattles.” + +“Thank you, sir.” Wattles set his black derby very carefully in place +and departed. + +Mr. Connover lived in Number 21 West Hall, and thither Wattles made +his way. His knock on the door brought a faint invitation to enter, +and when he had done so a voice proceeding from the bathroom called, +“Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a minute.” Wattles sat down in +a chair, placed his derby crosswise on his knees and placed a hand on +each end of the brim, quite as though he feared a strong gust of wind +might whisk the precious hat away. The minute became several minutes, +and then the baseball coach emerged from the bedroom, tying the cords +of his bath-robe and looking very clean and cheerful. + +“Ah, it’s Wattles,” he said. + +“Yes, sir.” Wattles arose to make the admission. + +“Well, sit down. What can I do for you? Or, I suppose, Mr. Deane.” + +“I took the liberty of coming on my own account, sir,” replied Wattles +a trifle nervously. + +“Oh! Well, glad to see you. Just what――ah――” + +“Mr. Connover, I witnessed the game this afternoon, and I saw how +things are going. Our infield, sir, is not――” Wattles hesitated and +shook his head gently――“is not what it should be.” + +Steve looked distinctly surprised. “I didn’t know you were a fan, +Wattles. However, what you say is absolutely true. Our infield leaves +much to be desired. Or it did this afternoon.” + +“Yes, sir, and that’s why I took the liberty of coming. I’d like to +speak to you about Mr. Tom, sir.” + +“Who’s Mr. Tom, Wattles?” + +“Mr. Kemble, sir, I should say.” + +“Oh, I see. Well, frankly, Wattles, I wouldn’t bother. That incident is +closed. I don’t think there is anything you could say that would help +Kemble to get his position back, and that, I imagine, is what you are +here for. I appreciate your interest, Wattles, but really it’s no good.” + +“Very well, sir. Then may I tell you what I learned about the young +gentleman simply as a――simply as a matter of interest? That is, sir, if +I’m not taking your time from more important affairs.” + +“That part’s all right. I’ve nothing to do until supper time, but―― Oh, +all right, Wattles, shoot!” + +So Wattles shot. He made rather a long story of it, choosing his words +very carefully as was proper when conversing with a member of the +faculty. And when he had finally finished Mr. Connover asked: “Wattles, +are you quite sure you’ve got that right?” + +“Oh, absolutely, sir. I was in Mr. Loring’s room when Mr. Tom told +about it. The facts are just as I’ve stated them, sir.” + +“Hm.” Mr. Connover shook his head in smiling exasperation. “It would +have been a lot simpler if you hadn’t told me this, Wattles. Of course, +I didn’t know that Kemble had taken up arms on my account, and I’ll +not deny that it makes a difference in my personal feelings toward the +boy. But, Wattles, it doesn’t affect the fact that Kemble disobeyed the +regulations flagrantly. I was obliged to discipline him, and even so I +let him off a good deal easier than I might have――possibly should have! +The deuce of it is that, having learned this, I’m bound to feel rather +a blighter for having punished him!” + +“Well, sir, you didn’t know,” reminded Wattles. + +“No, and now that I do know I’m afraid it can’t alter things any. You +understand that, Wattles?” + +“Well, sir, asking your pardon,” replied Wattles, “I’d like to say +that, as I understand it, the law recognizes mitigating circumstances. +I’ve been reading a bit of law, sir, this winter,” he added +apologetically. + +“Granted, but the judge should also be unswayed by personal――er――feelings. +The fact that Kemble disobeyed the rules out of――well, let us say +loyalty to me, Wattles, ought not to affect my decision.” + +“Oh, absolutely not, sir!” + +“Well, then, there we are.” Mr. Connover smiled gently. + +“Quite so, sir. When I suggested mitigating circumstances I had in +mind the fact that Mr. Tom had the――the quarrel forced on him, Mr. +Connover. He refused to engage with the other gentleman at that time +and place, sir. It was not until the other young gentleman insisted and +struck him, sir, that Mr. Tom――er――consented.” + +“Oh,” said Mr. Connover, and then: “Oh, I see,” he added thoughtfully. +“Hm. Yes, there’s that, isn’t there?” And, after another pause: “Look +here, Wattles, if I were you I’d keep on reading law,” he said. “I +honestly would!” + +“Thank you, sir. I’ve been considering the study of it.” + +“Fine! Now suppose you go on with the case. Suppose you were in my +place, Wattles, eh?” + +“It’s very kind of you, sir, to give――to receive my――” + +“Not at all. What is your idea of the situation that exists at present? +Frankly, after what you’ve told me I’d be mighty glad to reverse my +decision if I could see an honest way to do it.” + +“Well, Mr. Connover, as I look at it, it’s the other young gentleman +who should bear the――the brunt of the punishment.” + +“Well, yes, it does look that way. In other words, I should have +excused Kemble for the day and dropped Coles from the squad. I’m +afraid I didn’t give either of them a fair chance to explain what +had occurred. Not, however, that Coles appeared anxious to do any +explaining. Of course, if I did drop Coles now it would look a +bit――well, odd. Belated justice, eh?” + +“Yes, sir. And to-morrow being the last day of school, sir――” + +“True.” Mr. Connover’s eyes twinkled, and he seemed to be enjoying +himself hugely. “On the other hand, Wattles, there’s no reason why +I shouldn’t, considering the mitigating circumstances, reduce the +sentence inflicted on Kemble, which I now see was excessive, to――well, +to forty-eight hours――or thereabouts. Does that sound correct?” + +“Oh, absolutely, sir,” replied Wattles gravely. + +“Then,” went on the coach, pursuing his thoughts, “with both Kemble and +Coles in good standing on the team it only remains to determine which +of the two in my humble opinion is likely to best fill the position +of second baseman. Wattles, you have cleared up a difficult position +beautifully, and if we should be fortunate enough to win to-morrow you +may take a large share of the credit to yourself. In fact, Wattles, to +use an expression current about the campus, I’ve got to hand it to you!” + +Mr. Connover arose and held out his hand. Wattles, seriously +embarrassed, took it. + +After supper the Triumvirate met as usual, and, as usual, Mr. Cooper +joined the gathering before long. Clif arrived still depressed, +although a hearty supper had somewhat leavened his woe. Before long he +was taking a far less tragic view of his guilt, for Tom and Loring +went to some pains to prove that, even if he had erred, he was not +chargeable with the loss of the game. + +“Suppose you’d caught the ball,” said Loring. “That would have made +only the second out, and one of those runs would have crossed in any +case; probably both of them, for those guys reached the plate only +about four yards apart. But even if your throw-in had nabbed the +second, Wolcott would still have beaten us by one run.” + +“As far as that goes,” declared Tom, “if the infield hadn’t gone flooey +those runners would never have been on bases! You should worry over +dropping a fly after three infield errors had been chalked up!” + +“Still, it was an awful thing to do,” said Clif rather more cheerfully. +“I――I don’t know yet how it happened. I _caught_ the ball all right, +but, gee, somehow――” + +“You were too anxious to make the throw,” said Tom. “I’ve seen the same +thing happen lots of times. Forget it, old son, and make up for it +to-morrow.” + +“I will if I get the chance,” sighed Clif, “but I guess Steve isn’t +likely to let me play to-morrow.” + +“Oh, I don’t know. He needs hitters, Clif, and you’re certainly hitting +better than Al Greene.” + +“I didn’t do much yesterday except for that one single.” + +“Say, how do you get that way?” demanded Tom. “My Sainted Aunt Jerusha, +didn’t that hit send in two runs? You’re cuckoo!” + +Wattles, who was already sorting out Loring’s wardrobe for packing on +the morrow, said no word when, later, Tom remarked dolefully: “Heck, I +wish I were going to be in that rumpus to-morrow. I’ll just bet I could +knock the tar out of that Osterman guy! I’ll bet I’ve got his number +all right now!” + +There was no study hour these evenings, and the conclave in Loring’s +room continued almost to bedtime, and as often as the talk wandered +away from the final game with Wolcott just so often it switched back +again before many minutes. That game was the principal subject of +debate that evening all through the school, and even the enthralling +occupation of packing up for departure Thursday morning was everywhere +interrupted while the question of whether Steve would pitch Ogden or +Frost or whether Cobham would be back of the plate was thrashed out. + +While Wattles was massaging Loring that night the latter emerged from a +period of silent abstraction to say: “Wattles, you said once you were +pretty sure you had seen Mr. Cooper before. Remember?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Well, did you ever happen to remember about it?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“You did! Well, why the dickens didn’t you tell me?” + +“Possibly the opportunity didn’t occur, Mr. Loring.” + +“Opportunity my eye! You’ve had heaps of opportunities. I say, don’t +bear down so plaguy hard! Where was it you saw him, Wattles, and how’d +you happen to remember?” + +“It came to me one evening, sir, when I was cleaning some of your +cravats. Mr. Cooper said he wasn’t an American, if you’ll remember, but +an Englishman.” + +“Sure, I remember that, and how surprised I was.” + +“Yes, sir, so was I, for if I may say so the gentleman wouldn’t strike +one as a Britisher, doubtless owning to his having been away from +England so much, sir. It was when he said that that I remembered the +occasion of our former――that is to say, the occasion when I had seen +him before.” + +“Really?” asked Loring interestedly. “Go on, Wattles. Shoot the works.” + +“I beg pardon, sir?” said Wattles startledly. + +“Meaning tell the whole story,” laughed Loring. + +“Very good, sir, though there’s not much to tell. I may not have +mentioned it to you before, Mr. Loring, but the reason I came to this +country was the War.” + +“The War! No, you never told me that, Wattles.” + +“Yes, sir. You see, they wouldn’t have me on account of my eyes. Myopia +they called it. I tried to get in twice, Mr. Loring, but I couldn’t +wangle it. I don’t think folks were so unreasonable on this side, +sir, but over there in England they made it frightfully uncomfortable +for chaps like me. Slackers they called us, and worse than that, Mr. +Loring. I couldn’t stand it after a bit, and I came over here. But +that’s got nothing to do with what I started to tell you. After I’d +been here about three years I happened down the avenue in New York, +sir, and there was a gentleman, a British officer in uniform, making a +speech from a platform. In Madison Square it was, I believe. Well, sir, +I listened to him for quite a while. He spoke well. Told about what +the Tommies and the others had to go through in the trenches, and put +it fairly strong, sir. You understand, Mr. Loring, he was speaking for +one of the Liberty Bond drives, as they called them. Well, sir, he put +it over nicely, and there was a lot that heard him that dug right down +on the spot. I remember there was a placard behind him that said ‘Give +Till It Hurts!’ and he turned to it and said, ‘That’s the idea, men! +Give till it hurts! Not you, mind! It’s not you it will hurt! It’s the +enemy! Every dollar you loan to your Government hurts him! And you’ve +got to go on hurting him until he can’t stand it any longer! Give till +it hurts!’ Well, sir, maybe those weren’t his exact words, but they’re +like what he said, and they hit hard, Mr. Loring. I’d bought two bonds, +but I stepped up and I took another one, sir!” + +“And that was Mr. Cooper!” exclaimed Loring. + +“Yes, sir, that was him. A fine looking soldier he looked, too, Mr. +Loring, and not till he’d finished his speech did I see that he had to +use a crutch to walk back to the chair, sir.” + +“He’d been wounded, eh? Gee, that’s interesting! And I’m sort of +relieved, Wattles, because I rather gathered from the way you spoke +that when you saw him before he wasn’t――well, that there was something +a bit off-color about him.” + +“Yes, Mr. Loring, I felt that way about it myself; rather as if the +gentleman was connected with some unpleasant incident. Memory’s a very +odd thing, sir. You see, I didn’t want to buy that bond; leastways, +I did and I didn’t, Mr. Loring, if you understand me. I thought I +couldn’t afford it, sir, but then, talking like he did, I couldn’t help +buying it. Maybe I had that in my mind, do you see? Not wanting to buy +that bond and him just making me! Likely, Mr. Loring, that was where +the unpleasantness――er――came into it!” + +“Wattles,” chuckled Loring, “you’re a scream.” + +“Yes, sir,” replied Wattles. “The other leg, please, sir.” + + + + + CHAPTER XXII + + THE FINAL GAME + + +Graduation Day was all that it should have been as regarded weather. +The morning was warm, but there was a fresh breeze from the southwest +that stirred the maples along the village streets. Long before the +exercises commenced the vicinity of the school was thick with cars, +the Inn overflowed with visitors, and the little town had assumed the +festal look that it wore once each year in June. The day belonged, of +course, to the first class fellows, and they were much in evidence, +some thirty-two in all, looking usually a bit self-conscious, sometimes +rather self-important. The exercises were held out of doors on the +lawn, the platform set against a background of trees, the settees +ranged in semicircles before it. The scene was a fair one, colorful +with the dresses of mothers and sisters and aunts dotting a lawn of +emerald, with the bluest of blue skies above. One by one the graduates +stepped to the platform and received their diplomas from Doctor +Wyndham, shook the Doctor’s hand and turned to face a salvo of cheers +from their fellows. An orchestra, hidden by the branches, played +softly. The Doctor made his address, and Mr. Clendennin, Head of the +Junior School, spoke. Then came the announcement of the prize winners, +and finally a prayer. Clif, who had volunteered as a “roustabout,” +hurried away to help a score or so of other boys prepare the assembly +hall for the buffet luncheon to be served to the guests. There were +long trestles to be set up, settees to be borne back from the lawn, a +dozen other duties to be performed. + +After luncheon the Doctor held a reception that lasted until half-past +two, but Clif had nothing to do with that and set forth in search of +Tom. The latter, though, was not to be found. Clif suspected that he +had gone back to the Inn with Mr. Cooper after the exercises and had +taken lunch there. He gave over the search at last and went up to +his room and spent half an hour packing, he and Walter Treat getting +horribly in each other’s way during the operation. At two he made his +way to the gymnasium, decorated with gay bunting and flowers for the +school entertainment and dance to be held that evening, and found the +elusive Tom in the locker room getting into baseball togs. + +Clif stared a moment in surprise. Then he gave a shout of joy that +brought inquiring looks from the few other early arrivals. “You’re +going to play!” he cried. “Say, that’s great! How’d it happen? Gee――” + +“Let go of me and shut up,” said Tom, grinning. “Some one went and +spilled an earful to Steve. I don’t know who it was. I thought it +might be Wink, but he swears it wasn’t. Anyway, Steve said he’d been +a bit too rough, and he guessed I’d been punished enough and told me +to report for practice. He didn’t say he was going to let me play, but +Wink thinks he is. Tough on Wink, but he acted mighty decent about it. +Says he’s only getting what’s coming to him. A pretty nice guy, that +fellow, Clif.” + +Further remarks were prevented by the arrival of Hurry Leland. He had +to shake hands with Tom earnestly, clap him on the back and punch him +playfully in the ribs. “The million dollar infield again, Tom!” he +chortled. “There’s nothing to it, fellows! It’s all Dark Blue!” + +The rest of the team drifted in, heard the news and acclaimed it +loudly. A quarter of an hour later they were out on the scrub diamond +beginning an easy practice. Wolcott was already in evidence and the +nearer stand had a brown tinge, although the game was not to start +until three. After twenty minutes of work Coach Connover led the squad +to a corner of the second team stand and talked to them a few minutes. +Finally he read the batting-list: Tyson, 3B; Raiford, R.F.; Leland, +S.S.; Bingham, C.F.; Talbott, L.F.; Kemble, 2B; Van Dyke, 1B; Cobham, +C; Ogden, P. + +“Let’s play this game steady, fellows,” ended the coach. “Make +everything sure. Squeeze the ball every time you get it. If you do +that, and hit the way you can hit when you make up your minds to, +you’ll get the game, the series and the championship. No cheers, +fellows. Let’s go.” + +Wolcott retired from the first team diamond, and Wyndham took +possession for five minutes amidst the wild applause of the crowded +stand. In practice the “million dollar infield” showed wonderful form, +and more than once Captain Leland, Tyson, Van Dyke or Tom pulled stunts +that brought approval from the spectators. There was plenty of speed +and vim to-day. Finally a short man in the traditional blue serge of +his profession waved his mask and addressed the stands. + +“La――dies ’n gen’mun! Batteries for the game! For Wolcott, Osterman ’n +Bailey! For Wyndham, Ogden ’n Cobham! Play ball!” + +It was the Wolcott captain and center fielder who started the scoring, +in the first half of the second, with a clean hit past Hurry. He was +advanced on a sacrifice, pitcher to first baseman, took third on a +sacrifice fly to left field and scored on a hit over second. Wyndham +tied the game up in the same inning, however. Clif, first of the Dark +Blue to face Osterman in that frame, hit to third baseman who fumbled +badly. With three balls and one strike on Tom, Clif got the signal and +set out for second. Tom swung, but missed, and Bailey, the Brown’s +catcher, pegged to the base. Clif slid under the ball safely. Tom +struck out on the next delivery. + +Talbott, following Tom at bat, reached first on an error, this time by +second baseman, and on the throw to first Clif scuttled to third. The +Wolcott infield appeared pretty well demoralized then. Talbott made an +easy pilfer of second, the catcher making a short throw in hopes that +Clif would try to score. But there was only one away and Clif hugged +the bag. Van Dyke, after getting in the hole, began lifting fouls, and +when he had sent right fielder twice across the line after them he +managed to put the next fly fair. Clif brought in the tying run while +the ball was being relayed to the plate. Cobham ended the inning with a +strike-out. + +In the next inning Ogden passed the third Wolcott batsman, but with +two down he wasn’t risking much. The subsequent man flied out to +Tom. Wyndham proved that she had lost her awe of Osterman by getting +two hits in her half. Pat Tyson made the first, after Jeff Ogden had +fanned, and stole second on the next pitch. Raiford flied to short +center and made the second out. Captain Leland advanced Tyson to third +and went to first on a hit through the box. Clif, however, had no luck +this time, and his easy grounder to Osterman was fielded for the third +out. + +Clif got his first chance in the field when Wolcott’s shortstop +selected Ogden’s first offering in the fourth and crashed it well +toward the running track. Clif had determined to follow Mr. Connover’s +instructions and “squeeze them” to-day, and when this ball landed in +his hands he did his best to push it out of shape before he returned +it to the infield. The previous batter had hit to first baseman for an +easy out, and now, with two away, the next man secured Wolcott’s third +bingle by poling a fast one into left field. When, however, he tried to +go down to second Cobham’s perfect throw caught him standing up. + +Talbott got his first hit in the last of the fourth, a Texas Leaguer +back of shortstop, but he, too, was caught stealing. Tom hit a long +fly to right for the second out, and Van Dyke fouled to first baseman. +The game was going fast and honors were so far about even. Each team +had scored once and each had three hits to its credit. Only in the +matter of errors did Wyndham have the better of the argument, for the +Dark Blue still had a clean slate while Wolcott had two miscues scored +against her. There were thrills in every inning, and excitement was +more intense than at either of the previous contests. Loring, seated +to-day in the stand between Mr. Cooper and Wattles, had a simply +frightful time with his scoring. Scoring calls for a steady hand and a +cool head, and to-day Loring possessed neither! + +But three men faced Ogden in the fifth, and but three faced Osterman. +Each pitcher accumulated a strike-out, Jeff his first one of the game. +In the sixth Wolcott started with the head of her list at bat. Ogden +fanned him, however. The Wolcott left fielder smashed one at Tom and +Tom tried hard to get it. He failed to reach it, though, by somewhat +less than a foot and the ball traveled out to Raiford for a hit. Tom +pulled down an easy fly and Talbott got under another. + +Raiford swung hard at Osterman’s first delivery but missed it. Osterman +coaxed him with two wide ones and then sent one about waist-high, and +Raiford shortened his grip and laid down a pretty bunt that placed him +on first by the skin of his teeth. Hurry sacrificed with a slow one to +shortstop. As Raiford had started for second with a big lead he was +safe before second baseman was in position to take a toss and the ball +went to first for the out. Clif found his batting eye and smashed out +a pretty liner to left field for two bases, scoring Raiford. On Tom’s +out, second to first, Clif went to third and tallied when Talbott got +his first hit which bounced off second baseman’s shins. Talbott himself +was thrown out when he tried to steal. + +Wyndham celebrated those two runs with some of the loudest, most +riotous shouting ever heard on the field. With a two-run lead it seemed +that the game was as good as won! And Wolcott offered nothing in her +half of the seventh to throw doubt on the assumption. The “million +dollar infield” disposed expeditiously of the first two batsmen and +Raiford of the third. Wyndham arose for the lucky seventh, cheered, +stretched and remained standing while Van Dyke went out; first +baseman to pitcher, Cobham lost his race to the bag by inches against +shortstop’s peg and Ogden lifted a fly to center fielder. Wyndham sat +down again only mildly disappointed. Two runs was two runs! + +Wolcott threw a scare into the Dark Blue’s camp in the first half of +the eighth when, with one down, Osterman seemingly decided to do his +bit toward winning the game. The Wolcott pitcher had been at bat twice +before, and had been thrown out at first each time. Now, however, he +let Ogden get himself in the hole and then straightened out the fifth +delivery for a two-bagger into right field. Had Osterman been satisfied +with two bases the final score might have been different, but he rashly +tried to stretch what was a generous two base hit into a skimpy three +with the result that Raiford’s throw to Hurry Leland and Hurry’s fast +peg to Tyson landed the ball at third while the Wolcott pitcher was +still a yard from his goal. Wyndham breathed deeply with relief and +yelled uproariously. The third man was an easy out, Hurry to Van Dyke. + +Wyndham again failed to hit in her portion of the inning, Tyson, +Raiford and Leland falling victims to the infield. Then Wolcott went +to bat in what was presumably to be the final inning, Wyndham took +the field confidently and cheerfully and the less enthusiastic fans +prepared to depart. + + + + + CHAPTER XXIII + + BASES FULL! + + +“First man!” shouted Hurry. + +“First man!” echoed Van. “Let’s get him, gang!” + +“No one reaches first!” proclaimed Pat Tyson. “Go after him, Jeff!” + +So Jeff nodded, wound up and pitched, and the Wolcott left fielder +met the ball with his bat and sent it right back over Jeff’s head and +the trouble began. A reddish-haired lad named Quinn, who officiated +at third base for the visitors, conferred with the Wolcott coach and +advanced to the plate. He was evidently determined to make a sacrifice +bunt and so Cobham signaled for low ones. With a strike and a ball +scored, Quinn lifted one behind Van Dyke and just inside the foul line. +Before the excitement was over there was a runner on second and a +runner on first and no one was out! + +Mr. Connover signaled along the bench and Erlingby and Frost pulled on +their gloves and, followed by Gus Risley, retired behind the stand. The +next man hit the ball across the diamond to Hurry, who, finding it too +late for a play at second, sped the sphere to Van Dyke for the first +out. A third hit followed, though, and the runners from third and +second scored the tying runs! + +Ogden threw out the next batsman at first, passed the subsequent one +and then, while Wolcott still cheered and shouted and waved, made the +third man raise an easy fly to Hurry Leland, bringing to an end a +painful session! + +Wyndham came in and went into conference about the coach. The score was +3 to 3. One run would settle the matter here and now, but whether that +one run could be produced, and how, was a subject for thought. Clif +was first up, and, after listening intently to words of wisdom from +Coach Connover, faced an extremely composed looking Osterman. Steve had +told Clif to wait for a pass and this he proceeded to do. But Osterman +wasn’t issuing passes yet, and after two strikes had been called +against him and only two balls had been wasted by the pitcher Clif knew +it was up to him to watch his step. The next delivery might have been +intended for a drop, but it held pretty level and Clif got it fairly. +The ball shot across the diamond a few feet to the left of the middle +bag, and Clif was safe on first. + +Tom Kemble, due for a sacrifice, had been told to hit it out, and he +proceeded to do so. He let Osterman put the first delivery over for a +strike and the second for a ball. Then he selected the next and whanged +it down the third base line. There was a good deal of luck in that +hit, but it served its purpose, which was to put Clif on second and Tom +on first. In fact, Clif might have gone to third on it, and was well on +his way when the coacher turned him back. + +Talbott tried hard to get his second hit of the day then, but, although +he fouled the ball all over the place, escaping being caught out by so +many miracles, his final effort was a bounder to third baseman, and +his heroic race to the bag failed of success. Van Dyke, who followed, +was wildly implored to hit a home-run――although a single would have +answered quite as well――and seemed willing to oblige. But Osterman for +once failed to find the plate. Perhaps it was time he let down a bit, +for he had pitched fine ball for eight innings. Two balls, a strike +and two more balls, pitched while the Wyndham stand yelled and jeered +in the universal manner of baseball crowds, sent Van to first and the +bases were full! + +Bases full and only one away! A hit would win the game and the +championship! Coach Connover nodded to Sim Jackson and the umpire +announced the substitution impressively. Sim looked decidedly nervous +as he swung his bat and awaited the first offering, but determination +shone through the nervousness, and after Osterman had twice missed the +plate he took courage. Osterman worked a pretty drop over for a strike +and duplicated the proceeding a moment later. Evidently the booing and +shouting from the Wyndham stand were no more than music to his ears! +Then Sim hit. The ball rose in a weak infield fly that dropped fairly +into the third baseman’s glove, while all three runners hurried back +to their bases. Sim went back to the bench looking very woebegone. Two +away now! + +“Risley batting for Ogden!” shouted the umpire. + +Gus could hit, and the Wyndham supporters took hope once more. But Gus +could not, it appeared, hit to-day. Osterman fooled him badly on an +out-curve, offered him a palpable ball that Gus almost went after in +his anxiety and then scored again with a drop. As Gus recovered his +balance after whirling around on one foot, Captain Leland, coaching at +third, stooped and patted both palms against the sod. Clif took a deep +breath, edged another foot from the bag, another―― + +Osterman was smiling a bit disdainfully as he took a short wind-up for +the fourth delivery, but the smile faded abruptly. Along the path from +third base a blue-stockinged form was speeding as though shot from +a cannon. Cries of shrill warning sounded above the unceasing noise +from the stands. Osterman stepped forward and shot the ball toward the +plate, every ounce of strength behind it. Bedlam broke loose as runner +and ball raced for victory. Bailey dropped despairingly, but the ball +hit the dust in front of the rubber, struck his mitt and caromed off it +just as Clif hurtled to the plate in a “fallaway” slide, an eager foot +reaching for its goal! + +The umpire, a squat figure in a cloud of yellow dust, held his hands +down just as Bailey found that he was sitting on the ball. Clif +struggled to his feet to discover himself in a mob of maniacal youths +seemingly bent on his destruction. But they only shoved and tugged and +boosted at him until he was swaying dizzily, and certainly insecurely, +above the rabble. There was a fearsome din and lots of dust, and his +captors, red-faced youths with wide-open mouths, seemed content to just +mill around in the center of that increasing mob. But Clif was not the +only one who was viewing the scene from above, for there was Captain +Leland and Van Dyke and Tom, and every moment some other hero was +lifted in air. Clif tried to wriggle loose, but his bearers only held +him the tighter. Cheering began. Clif relaxed and grinned. It came to +him that all this was eminently proper after all. They had won a mighty +victory. + + * * * * * + +Tom had received a letter from his guardian that forenoon, but as it +had reached him almost simultaneously with his restoration to the +baseball squad he had not even opened it. Now, in Loring’s room after +supper, the talk finally veered from the afternoon’s victory and Loring +asked: “Your father isn’t coming for you, is he, Clif?” + +“No,” was the answer. “He’s in Chicago and doesn’t get back until +to-morrow evening. He’s sending the car by a man from the garage. I’m +going to drive it back, though!” + +“Trust you!” said Tom. “What time do we start along, Loring?” + +“Father said they’d get up here by eleven. That’s about as early as +they can make it. We’ll stop for lunch somewhere, I suppose.” + +“Sure I won’t be in the way?” + +“Of course you won’t. The car seats seven, and Wattles will sit in +front. There’ll be just the four of us behind. How about your trunk? +Want Wattles to look after that in the morning? We’re sending our stuff +by express.” + +“Suits me. It’s mighty nice of you to take me along, and the best of it +is that I’ll be ahead the price of the railway fare, and when you don’t +get much coin, anyway――” Tom stopped abruptly and slapped his pockets. +“Heck, I almost forgot the old coot’s letter! Came this morning and +I stuffed it away―― Here it is. Mind if I see how much he’s made the +check for?” + +“Go ahead,” said Loring. “Hope he’s been generous.” + +“If he has,” murmured Tom, “it’s the first time――” He relapsed +into silence, a slip of buff paper dangling from one hand and the +accompanying letter in the other. Loring and Clif resumed conversation +quietly. Suddenly there was an exclamation of dismay from Tom. “Well, +what do you know?” he gasped. “The blamed old fish says I can’t come +back!” + +“Come back?” echoed Clif. “Do you mean _here_?” + +Tom crumpled the letter savagely. “Yes! He’s had my report, and he +says―― Oh, what’s it matter what he says? The main thing is I’m +through!” + +“But――but that’s crazy!” Loring protested. “You passed! He’s just +trying to throw a scare into you, I guess. He’s bound to come around +before fall, Tom.” + +“Is he?” growled Tom. “You don’t know him! It’s the money he’s thinking +of, the――the blamed old miser! Says it would be wasting money for me to +return, that I’m getting no results for what it’s costing. And it’s my +money, too! All right, all _right_! But he needn’t think I’m going to +clerk in a store, or something like that, by heck! I’m――I’ll run away +first! I don’t care what――” + +Tom’s angry voice was stilled by a gentle tap on the door. The breeze +had died away and the door had been left well ajar for the admittance +of any stray breath of air stirring in the corridor. Before Loring +could answer, the tip of a cane came into view, the door opened wider +and Mr. Cooper entered. He was in dress clothes, and Clif’s first +thought was one of envy. Clif had viewed his own evening regalia in +the mirror half an hour since and had been rather well pleased with +what he had seen, but now he realized that dress clothes alone were not +enough; it was the manner of wearing them that counted most! Even Tom +forgot his wrath for a moment in approving appraisal of the newcomer, +and Loring spoke his mind frankly. + +“Gee, Mr. Cooper, you’re some sheik!” he exclaimed. + +Mr. Cooper smiled as he laid hat and stick on the foot of Loring’s bed. +“Thanks,” he answered. “Fact is, fellows, I haven’t had these togs +on for so long that they feel deuced strange. You chaps look rather +sheikish yourselves, it seems to me!” He took his accustomed chair +and viewed Tom’s lowering countenance inquiringly. “What’s this about +running away, old chap?” he asked. + +“I forgot the door was open,” muttered Tom. “It’s Mr. Winslow, sir. He +doesn’t like the marks I got and says I can’t come back in the fall.” + +Mr. Cooper’s brows raised. “Really! Why, that _is_ bad news, isn’t it?” + +“Rotten!” declared Clif. “We had it all fixed to room together, sir.” + +“Tom says it’s the expense that’s worrying the guardian,” said Loring. +“And it’s Tom’s money, too.” + +“And so you’re going to run away,” mused Mr. Cooper. + +“I’m going in the Navy,” declared Tom defiantly. + +“Well, now look here, Tom. Just put the matter out of your mind. +Perhaps I don’t rate very high with you chaps as a prophet, but I’m +really quite a remarkable one, and I prophesy, Tom, that you’ll be back +here in September. And the September after that again.” + +Tom stared doubtfully. Then he grinned. “I’d like to know where you get +your dope,” he muttered. + +Mr. Cooper waved a thin brown hand. “We prophets don’t give ourselves +away, old chap. But――” and he spoke so gravely that even Tom was +impressed――“I give you my word that I know what I’m talking about and +that it’ll be just as I say. How about it?” + +Tom laughed doubtfully. “I don’t see how―― But, heck, sir, you make it +sound real!” + +“It is real. You’ve got nothing to worry about. Mr. Winslow is――er――Mr. +Winslow is mistaken.” + +“I hope he finds it out!” said Tom. + +“I’m quite certain he will. You may count on――” + +“I beg pardon!” The interruption came from the doorway where a tall, +heavily-built gentleman stood half revealed. “I see that I’m wrong. +But you will kindly tell me where I can find Mr. Clendennin? I was +directed, I thought, to this room, but――” The intruder’s gaze traveled +from one to the other of the four occupants and came to rest on Mr. +Cooper. It was then that his apologetic explanation ceased abruptly +and a look of great surprise came into his face. He pushed the door +wider and took a step into the room. “By the Great Horn Spoon!” he +shouted. “Jack Kemble!” + +Mr. Cooper arose and stepped forward with outstretched hand. “Hello, +Dick,” he replied quietly but with evident pleasure. “No idea you were +about.” Very gently he urged the other back to the threshold. + +“But what the dickens,” went on the visitor, still pumping the hand +he held, “are you doing here? I say, Ellen, you’ve heard me speak of +Captain Kemble a hundred times. Jack, shake hands with my wife.” To the +bewildered trio in the room a momentary vision of a blue-gowned figure +showed behind the men. “The last I heard of you――” + +The door swung slowly shut and only a murmur of voices came from the +corridor. The three boys stared at each other in puzzlement. Then +Clif sank back into his chair, and Tom followed suit more slowly. The +silence lasted a full minute. Then Loring said: “What did he call him, +Clif? I thought he said――” + +“He did!” burst out Tom. “‘Jack Kemble’! What’s it mean? Did he get our +names mixed, do you suppose? But I never saw him before!” + +“I have,” said Clif. “I saw him this morning. His name’s Murdock. He’s +got a boy in the Junior School, a sort of fat kid――” + +“But he called Mr. Cooper ‘Jack Kemble’!” persisted Tom. “I――I don’t +like it! It’s spooky! That was my――my――” + +The door opened again and Mr. Cooper reëntered. He was smiling faintly, +but the smile was different, and he avoided Tom’s troubled eyes as he +went back to his chair. “Dick Murdock,” he explained apologetically. +“We were together for a time during the War. I hadn’t seen him for a +number of years. Hope we didn’t――er――startle you.” + +“No, sir, not a bit,” murmured Loring. + +“What did he call you?” demanded Tom a trifle shrilly. + +“Oh, that!” Mr. Cooper laughed lightly. “That _was_ startling, wasn’t +it? Murdock was always a perfect ass when it came to remembering names. +By the way, just what did he call me?” + +“Kemble, sir,” answered Clif. + +“I thought it sounded like that, too. Odd, eh? I mean, a bit of a +coincidence, wasn’t it?” + +Tom was leaning forward in his chair, staring frowningly. “I don’t +believe that!” he broke forth harshly. “What _is_ your name? You’ve got +to tell us!” + +The half smile left the man’s face. For a long moment he stared at the +floor. Then he lifted his gaze to Tom’s, met it squarely and answered. + +“John Middenwill Cooper-Kemble,” he said. + +There was another moment of silence in the room, broken at last by +Tom’s voice, low and trembling. + +“What――what are you to――me?” he faltered. + +The half smile returned to the man’s face, but it held no suggestion of +amusement. It seemed, rather, the smile of one ruefully contemplating +his own perplexities. But his eyes never left Tom’s as he replied. + +“I regret that this has had to happen just now,” he said quietly. “I +hadn’t meant it to. But you’ve a right to know.” His voice fell to a +gentler tone and he added deprecatingly, “I am your father.” + + * * * * * + +“Of course,” said Loring a few minutes later, when he and Clif were +alone, “we ought to have guessed it long ago. After all, they’re +ridiculously alike, Clif.” + +“Alike? Gosh, I can’t see that! And I don’t see how any one could have +guessed――” + +“I don’t mean in looks, but in――in ways. Think, Clif. Forget their +looks. Shucks, put another twenty years on Tom, and give him four +of them in the War, and he’d be Mr. Cooper――I mean Mr. Kemble――Mr. +Cooper-Kemble――all over again.” + +“Do you think so?” asked Clif thoughtfully. “Yes, they are alike some +ways. But I’d never have guessed they were father and son. And Tom +told me about his dad, too, months ago. Gosh, I wonder――” Clif looked +slightly alarmed. + +“What?” + +“He said he was going to tell his father what he thought about him if +he ever found him, Loring! Do you suppose he will?” + +Loring laughed. “I don’t think you need worry about that. Tom’s crazy +about him, Clif. Has been for a month!” + +Wattles entered, bearing a huge kit-bag from the storeroom. + +“Look here,” announced Loring, fearsomely, “you’re not going to do any +more packing to-night, Wattles. You’re going over to the gym and see +the show and have a good time. By the way, what time is it? We’ve got +to be―― Oh, I say, Wattles, here’s a stunner! Who do you suppose Mr. +Cooper is?” + +“Mr. Cooper, sir?” Wattles set the bag down, dusted his hands carefully +and allowed himself something that was almost a smile. “Mr. Cooper is +Mr. Tom’s father, Mr. Loring.” + +“_Wha-at!_ How the dickens did _you_ ever hear it?” + +“I didn’t exactly hear it, sir. I――er――I came to the conclusion by +observation. Perhaps, sir, you’ll recall Mr. Cooper leaving a leather +cigar case behind him one afternoon.” + +“No, I don’t, but what about it?” + +“I took the liberty, sir, of examining it. Not from any desire +to――er――pry into the gentleman’s affairs, sir, but merely because I +have a――a weakness, as you might say, for leather articles――” + +“That’s all right! Get on, Wattles, for Pete’s sake!” + +“Yes, sir. Well, Mr. Loring, there was a name printed under the flap; +in gold letters, sir: ‘J. M. Cooper-Kemble’ it was.” + +“For the love of lemons!” sighed Loring. “How long ago was this, +Wattles?” + +“Perhaps a fortnight, sir.” + +“And you never said a word!” + +Wattles drew himself up slightly. “I am not the sort, Mr. Loring, to +violate a gentleman’s confidence,” he replied with dignity. + +Loring threw up his hands. “You’ll do, Wattles! Here, get me over to +the gym. It’s eight o’clock already!” + + * * * * * + +It was nearly three hours later when Clif found Tom again. He might +not have found him then if he had not withdrawn from the gymnasium for +a breath of air. Tom was sitting alone on a step at the bottom of the +flight. Clif called to him and he turned and answered dreamily: “Oh, +that you, Clif? Great night, isn’t it?” + +“Yes.” Clif went down and seated himself at Tom’s side. After a moment, +during which Tom seemed to have forgotten his chum’s presence in silent +contemplation of a shining half moon Clif asked diffidently: “Is +everything all right, Tom?” + +“Eh? What did you―― Oh, you bet! Listen, I’m to come back next fall, +Clif, and right along until I’m finished, no matter if it takes ten +years! He said so. And I’m to go to college, too! And next summer―― +Say, it wasn’t bunk at all, about us getting together in Switzerland! +It’s real! We’re going to do it, Clif! I’m going abroad with him; +for all summer; France, Germany, Switzerland――hundreds of places! +Gosh, isn’t that wonderful? Why, this morning I never expected to see +anything all my life but just New Jersey!” + +“Gee, that’s simply corking!” cried Clif, thrilled. “And, I say, Tom, +you didn’t――didn’t talk to him like you said you were going to, did +you?” + +Tom shook his head. “I couldn’t do it. I don’t know just how it was +when I was a kid and he went away, but he told me a little. You see, +his father died――I forgot to tell you we’re pretty well off, he and +I, Clif!――and he had to go across; back to England; and mother――well, +she didn’t want to go; anyway, she wouldn’t. And father sent for her +and――and she still wouldn’t go to him――I suppose folks don’t all get +along very well together, even if they are married, Clif. Anyway, +father didn’t see her again. He meant to. He meant to come back, but +he went to Africa, and then the War broke out. Oh, I guess he was to +blame, all right, but――well, a fellow doesn’t want to say anything +against his mother, especially when she’s dead, Clif. And she was a +mighty fine mother to me; and he says she was fine, too. Only――well, +they didn’t seem to get along. He didn’t know she had died until a +whole year after. And when he tried to find me he couldn’t for a long +time. He wasn’t going to tell me about being my father yet, he says. +He wanted to――to make sure that――that I wanted him, you see. He said +to-night that it needn’t make any difference. That if I wasn’t ready to +have him for a father he’d leave me alone until I was.” + +Tom paused and the music from the dance floor came out in a sudden +flood of melody. The white moon, momentarily hidden by a fleecy purple +cloud, sailed forth again. + +“What did you tell him, Tom?” asked Clif anxiously. + +Tom, staring up at the moon, grinned almost embarrassedly. + +“I told him,” he answered, “that he’d better stick around!” + + + THE END + + + + + BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR + + + _North Bank Series_ + +Three Base Benson + +How an ungainly youth outlived the jeering of his school mates and won +their respect with his presence of mind, and how he made the nine and +gained a nickname by his prowess at bat. + + +Kick Formation + +Jerry Benson, after establishing himself as a baseball player, turns +to football. Once more he uses his head, and it is his resourcefulness +more than any other quality which makes him a hero. + + +Coxswain of the Eight + +The trials of a young fellow who is too small for the athletic teams, +but who longs to put his school spirit in action. He finds his +opportunity in trying out for coxswain. + + + _Some Books Not in Series_ + +For the Good of the Team + +A prep school football story, telling of a brilliant player who proved +a failure as captain, but who finally pocketed his pride and worked +heartily for the good of the team. + + +The Fighting Scrub + +Gives proper credit, at last, to the hard-used scrubs. Describes a +season in which the fighting spirit of the scrub team and the part +played by a crippled onlooker were the features. + + +Follow the Ball + +Describes a boy’s full year, telling of athletics and other activities +and of the events of the vacation season as well. + + _Each $1.75_ + + + _The Grafton Series_ + + _These are stories of life at Grafton School. They are full + of sport and games, and will interest any boy who likes the + rivalry of contests._ + +Rivals for the Team + +Hugh Ordway comes to America from England. His room-mate, star +half-back of the team, gets him started in football, and on the eve of +the great contest they find themselves rivals for the same position. + + +Winning His Game + +The day of the game between Grafton and Mount Morris arrives and Bud +Baker and Jimmy Logan, two important players, are missing. A search +reveals that they have missed the train. And then――well, read the story. + + +Hitting the Line + +Monty Grail comes East from Wyoming to enter Mount Morris School. At +the Grand Central Terminal he meets two prominent students of Grafton +who induce him to enter their school instead. In the end he is not +sorry he changed his mind. + + + _The Purple Pennant Series_ + + _In these books Mr. Barbour tells of life in the overage high + school. Each book is a thriller._ + +The Lucky Seventh + +Gordon Merrick, with Dick Lovering, forms a ball team of the remnants +of the High School nine and challenges the boys of the summer colony. + + +The Secret Play + +Clearfield High School loses her football coach, and against much +criticism, Dick Lovering, a cripple, coaches the team. When the day of +the big match comes, some unexpected things happen. + + +The Purple Pennant + +An athletic meet in which the boys have running races, hurdling, +pole-vaulting and hammer throwing, is the climax of this story. The +book tells the story of the purple pennant and how it came into being. + + + _Hilton Series_ + +The Half Back + +The young hero of this story is carried through preparatory school and +the freshman year at Harvard. The story closes with an account of a +Yale-Harvard game. + + +For the Honor of the School + +The excitement of a cross country run, training for track athletics, +with a glimpse of football are all to be found in this school story. +The hero is both an athlete and a scholar. + + +Captain of the Crew + +“Captain of the Crew” follows “For the Honor of the School” but is in +every sense a complete story. The author is concerned both with school +athletics and with the influences that build character. + + + _Erskine Series_ + +Behind the Line + +A story of life at a preparatory school with the chief interest +centering around football. The author gives an intimate view of the +preparation and training necessary for a big game. + + +Weatherby’s Inning + +A story of a young man’s struggle against untoward circumstances in +a small New England college. Baseball furnishes the chief athletic +interest. + + +On Your Mark + +Track work furnishes the athletic interest in this story of school life. + + + _Yardley Hall Series_ + +Forward Pass + +The boy who likes football will find a good technical description of +the game in this book as well as a fine story showing how the newest +tactics work out in practice. + + +Double Play + +A story to follow “Forward Pass,” relating new adventures in the life +of the hero. Baseball has a large place in the story, but other school +events are entertainingly described. + + +Winning His “Y” + +“Money-bags” and “Miss Nancy” are two nicknames given Gerald Pennimore +when he arrives at Yardley, due to his father’s millions. How he lives +them both down and wins his “Y” make an exciting story. + + +For Yardley + +Another Yardley story with Gerald Pennimore well to the fore among +the characters. Why Gerald was put on probation and how he bore his +punishment are the chief matters of interest. + + +Change Signals + +Kendall Burtis comes from the country and this is the story of how he +develops into a star kicker and the hero of the big game of the season. + + +Around the End + +Kendall Burtis has developed into a star player, when suddenly it is +discovered that someone has turned traitor and sold the team’s signals +to Broadwood. Kendall is accused, and the outcome is a surprise to +everyone. + + + These Are Appleton Books + + D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, New York + + + * * * * * + + + Transcriber’s Notes: + + ――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). + + ――Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. + + ――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. + + ――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76800 *** |